Ruler [Blood Magic, Book 3]

Chapter 28: Kiss and Tell

Leaving Arthos' apartment before he woke afforded me the luxury of slipping out of his suite without any further awkward, soul-rending conversations. The hallways swallowed me like so many red-tongued mouths as I manoeuvred through their winding expanses with no concrete destination in mind. 

Keep moving, maybe none of it will catch you.

The lies I learned to tell myself still came easily, though they failed to stick or any offer comfort.

One thing I did know: I was not going to work. I couldn't look at Keel and I didn't think he could bear to look at me either.

I figured at some point my feet would steer me home. Instead, I found myself in front of the heavy, ornate double doors of the museum. What was I doing here? What was I looking for? I raised my hand and ran my fingers along the intricate carvings, the wood felt strangely warm to the touch. An invitation? Maybe the museum could grant me peace, empty and unattended as it usually was.

I flattened my palms on one of the double doors and shoved. Once it opened enough for me to slip in sideways, I crossed the threshold and let it thud closed behind me. The overhead lights were off, but the spotlights illuminating the exhibits glowed from each of the walls, casting the aisles into murk and shadow, but brightening the edges of the room. I followed the pools of light, running my hand along each of the glass-tops displays. When I'd first come here, this whole room had been a mystery, now I knew what each of these items was and why it was here. The Nosferatu's secrets had been made my own, and yet I'd never truly be one of them, even if I relented and gave Keel his son.

I followed the bends in the room until I came to the sorcerer scalp. There, proof, I thought, adding fuel to my misery. Never mind Keel's bloodline, my people's entire history was bearing down on me. Sorcerers didn't do the things I did, and they certainly didn't have children with vampires, not even sorcerers raised by humans. I was an aberration, and even when I resisted, fate wrestled free will from me. It was too much. Much more than I could swallow and keep contained within me. 

I threw my head back and screamed. My screech echoed around the space, turning into a plaintive banshee wail, and I didn't care who heard me. Eventually my voice cracked and my throat ached and with nothing left inside to hold me up, I collapsed to my knees in front of the hair of my dead ancestor and cried. I thought I was done with tears after my day at Arthos' place, but big, ugly sobs tore through my body, threatening to topple it the rest of the way to the floor. How was it possible for everything to hurt this much? How was it possible for everything to feel so out of control? It was like reaching out and grasping for something, anything, and time after time finding nothing. 

No matter where I went, no matter what I did, someone - vampire or sorcerer - would always be hunting me.

"Was this how it was for you when you went from hunter to hunted?" I whispered at the scalp on the wall.

It hung before me silent and accusing, refusing to share my guilt. That sorcerer had been a killer of vampires, while Arthos and Keel wanted me to be mother to them. And maybe turn the king into a true monster in the process. Or keep saying no and sentence every Nosferatu who had ever been kind to me to death. Or let him do it the Nosferatu way and- The vice in my chest tightened, stifling a fresh sob in my throat. All of it was impossible.

When the doors of the museum swung inwards along with the slightest of breezes, I knew who had entered without having to get up and peer around the corner. The bond would never let him sneak up on me again.

I closed my eyes and waited for his inevitable words, when they didn't come, I blinked my lids open and looked around. It took me a few moments to spot him. He was moving in my direction carrying a wooden bench. I rose and he positioned the bench in front of the exhibit. Then he took a seat, the bones on his robe clicking like skeletal fingers as they settled on the marble floor. When I didn't move, he tapped the wood beside him. A spark of fear flickered at the base of my spine remembering the anger he'd wore like a shadow the last two days.