Page 108 of Tainted Souls
The dreaded knock finally comes, announcing Irene’s return.
“I’m here,” she calls. “Are you ready?”
I slip from the window, each movement careful and quiet, like I’m holding myself back even though no one is watching. My fingers find the edge of the door, easing it open just wide enough to pop my head through. “Hey.”
She greets me with a warm and genuine smile, almost disarmingly kind. A kindness that feels out of place for someone like her, a creature forged in shadows and secrets. It unsettles me more than I expect.
Her attire is softer than the usual harshness of the Ravens, but still carries a certain darkness. She wears a fitted plum dress, the fabric matte and heavy, falling close to her form without flair or excess. The sleeves are long but snug, ending just past her wrists, and the low neckline is plain—functional rather than decorative.
There’s no lace or embroidery, only subtle seams that hint at careful tailoring. Her coppery hair is loose, falling with defined curls below her shoulders, without the polished control she usually wears. No mask, no armor.
“You look lovely.” She gestures to my simple attire. “Sometimes less is more, don’t you think?”
I step fully into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind me. “I wasn’t exactly planning for a social calendar when I was captured.”
Her smile falters slightly. “Of course. I should’ve brought you more options.”
“It’s fine,” I say, not wanting to dwell on my circumstances. “Lead the way.”
Irene starts walking without another word. My heart pounds, each beat louder than the last, as I follow her down the candlelit corridors. Sounds of laughter, the clink of glasses, and the soft melody of a piano drift ahead. What am I doing? These people aren’t my friends.
They’re vampires—Ravens.
The very creatures I’ve spent years hunting. Their leader himself is responsible for my father’s death. I should turn around, go back to my room, and focus on finding a way out of this place.
But I’m already following Irene into the lounge.
It’s smaller than I anticipated, cozy even, with plush chairs arranged around a central fireplace. Warm light spills from antique lamps, dusty bookshelves line the walls, and a gramophone in the corner plays soft jazz. The Ravens are scattered throughout the room, the formal attire they favored for dinner replaced by a relaxed elegance that somehow feels just as commanding.
At a carved table, Saul sits opposite a noirette woman, playing what looks like chess. The Raven, whom I’ve seen multiple times now but know only as Imposter Egon, lounges on a settee, reading. The short brunette from the attack in which Mira and Henry died is lounging on a chaise. I’m suddenly convinced she and Imposter Egon are a couple.
He had called her ‘his beloved,’after all.
Reece deals cards at a nearby table, his face brightening when he sees me. “Look who decided to grace us with her presence.”
He raises his glass in greeting, drawing everyone’s attention.
“Not much else to do here,” I say, hovering in the doorway as Irene joins Reece at the table.
Imposter Egon marks his page before closing the book and setting it aside. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.” He walks up to me, his hand extended. “I’m Kale.”
I shake his hand cautiously. “Seraph.”
“I know.” His smile is kind, polite, as expected from the facade they have trained themselves to wear. “Would you like a drink? We got wine, whiskey, blood…” He winks at the last one.
Despite myself, I feel the corner of my mouth twitch. “Wine.”
As Kale pours me a glass, I take a seat near the fire, keeping a careful distance from the others. After a few sips, warmth seeps into my bones, and for the first time since arriving at this mansion, the tight tangle of tension in my chest begins to loosen, if only slightly.
Kale settles back into his seat, motioning toward the others as he introduces them one by one.
The short brunette appears to be Palina, doe-eyed and unbothered by what’s going on around her. The noirette playing chess with my brother is revealed to be Hanae, who immediately glances up from the board as her name is spoken.
“Tell me, Seraph,” Hanae calls from across the room. “What was it like growing up with this one? Was he always this brooding, or did that develop later?” She gestures toward Saul with her glass, nudging a chess piece with her other hand. “Check.”
Saul swears under his breath, studying the board with reinvigorated intensity.
“He was worse,” I say, surprising myself with how easily it rolls off my tongue. Must be the wine. “Used to follow me around like a stalker, critiquing everything I did.”
