She wrested a piece of hair from the night breeze and tucked it behind her ear as she faced him. Even in the thin light, her signum glittered and her skin glowed. Hell. There was no denying she affected him. Who wouldn’t be affected by a beautiful woman who effervesced light and life? Except she couldn’t give him either of those things. No one could. And all he could offer her was darkness and death. Not that he was offering her anything. Or even thinking about it.
‘I might know a way to break your curse. Or at least, know someone who might know.’
‘Who?’
She crossed her arms and leaned against the rail. ‘The comarré have a kind of historian who keeps our records. The Aurelian.’
‘I don’t need a librarian.’ Books he could go through on his own. Just as he had been since he’d gotten free of the ruins and found a thread of sanity.
Chrysabelle uncrossed her arms and inched closer, one hand wrapping the railing. ‘She’s more than that. She’s an annalist, a keeper of spells, an ancient mind, a source of knowledge that goes beyond the books she keeps.’
‘A witch.’
Her face remained impassive. ‘She’s been called that.’
‘What makes you think she’d know something about what was done to me?’
‘Your legend says your second curse was placed upon you by nobility.’
‘I wasn’t aware anyone knew that.’ Maybe the source of that information was the source of his curse. Who else would know but someone connected?
She shrugged. ‘Comarré know a lot of things that aren’t common knowledge. Our scribes document anything that involves the vampire nation. And the Aurelian knows all of it.’
He snorted air through his nose. ‘Basic vampire history isn’t hard to find if you know where to look.’ And he did. Because he had.
She shook her head. ‘It’s so much more than basic vampire history. It’s legends, ancient texts, prophecies—’
‘I get it.’ He held up his palm. ‘I’ve been through all those books.’
‘No, you haven’t.’ Her hand slid toward his on the railing. ‘And those books in your room and your office are worthless.’
He scowled, then wondered if she could see his expression in the dim light.
‘Don’t look at me that way.’
Question answered. ‘What makes you think those books are worthless?’
Her eyes widened in mock disbelief as she shook her head and sighed. ‘You’re still cursed, Einstein.’
Maybe he’d just kill her a little. ‘There are some I haven’t read yet.’
‘Don’t bother. Unless you like wasting your time.’ She stepped onto the lowest rung of the railing, leaned her torso over, and inhaled with her eyes closed, as though the smell of the sea was something special. Maybe it was, but not here where the rainbow sheen of leaking oil clogged most life into a decaying mess.
‘Why would your Aurelian have anything different?’
She hopped back onto the deck. ‘There are books, scrolls really, long lost to the vampire histories.’
‘I doubt that. Vampire history goes back to the beginning of time. To the Castus Sang—’
‘Quiet. Never say that name out loud.’ Fear flared in her eyes. She glanced from side to side, as if expecting the ancient creatures to come rushing in and swoop her up.
‘I don’t think they’re much concerned with anathema these days.’
She glared at him. ‘Really? Are you willing to test that theory?’
In truth, no. ‘What about these long-lost scrolls? How does the vampire nation not have them?’
The shift in subject seemed to calm her down. She exhaled and twisted the hem of her T-shirt around her fingers. His T-shirt. The black fabric swallowed her. Like you should. ‘The vampire nation doesn’t have them, because the comarré have kept them hidden. Over the years, we’ve plucked every existing copy we could find from the libraries of our patrons.’ The hem tore in her fingers. ‘These are secrets even some lesser comarré don’t know. I shouldn’t be telling you, of all people.’
‘But you are.’
She shook her head, tucking her chin against her chest, and went quiet for a long minute. ‘Things will never be okay again, will they?’
The question threw him. He didn’t know what to say, how to answer. ‘Things change.’ Yeah, that was brilliant. A real epiphany for the ages.
‘I just wanted to be free. Now that may never happen.’ She lifted the hem to her face and wiped her eyes.
The smooth gold-inscribed expanse of her stomach distracted him, and too late he realized she was trying to hide tears. Son of a priest. ‘Look, don’t do that. Everything will be … fine.’
She tilted her head to look at him. Her eyes were round and liquid. And angry. ‘Everything will be fine?’ She stood straighter, tears forgotten. ‘I’ve been accused of murdering a high-ranking vampire and stealing a very valuable ring, neither of which I did. I’m being hunted by Nothos that will assuredly kill me when they catch me. If they don’t, then the power-hungry vampire they work for will. And my best chance of survival is a half-starved, fully mental outcast with a head full of voices who refuses to help me and, oh, might also kill me. Everything is not going to be fine.’
He stared at her for a moment, trying to deny how accurate her assessment was. ‘It’s not that—’