Page 137 of Tainted Souls
“What’s inside?” I ask, lifting the cup to my nose, trying to discern the blend—sage… elderberry… something else, maybe valerian root?
It’s hard to tell, but definitely something earthy.
“Withania somnifera, to alleviate discomfort inflicted by wood.”
Ashwagandha.
“Artemisia vulgaris, to dull the searing ache of tungsten.”
Mugwort.
“Actaea racemosa, to mitigate the ravaging scourge of lumenite.”
Black Cohosh.
“And Atropa belladonna, to blunt the allergic blight of gardenia.”
Black, no—deadly nightshade.
“That’s toxic to humans,” I say, narrowing my eyes.
“I know, which is why I only added a tiny, carefully measured dose in yours.” She lifts her own cup and drains it in one long swallow, a faint grimace crossing her features before she sets it down. “It’s safe, don’t worry. I use the same recipe for your brother all the time.”
The steam curls around my face, carrying the slight sting of heat. If they were trying to harm me here, they wouldn’t need to do it through poisoning.
“We do not have any citrus on hand right now, but I normally add a dash of it to make up for the lack of Calendula officinalis,” she says, “which protects against brief sun exposure—something you and your brother don’t need.”
Marigold.
Hearing Irene ramble about culinary fervors is strangely endearing, as if measuring out deadly nightshade and mixing in herbal substitutes are as ordinary as sprinkling salt on a stew. I suppose even they need to have hobbies and routines beyond the work they do.
I simply nod, the barest hint of a smile tugging at my lips. The tea is bitter but I force it down, feeling its warmth spread through my chest as I watch the Ravens prepare around me. Vitaed clothing is stripped off and replaced with new garments that won’t hinder their movement. Reece flexes his arms after pulling on a dark, fitted shirt, while Palina secures her hair in a tight bun. Kale steps up behind her, his long fingers brushingher shoulder as he helps twist the loose strands into place, his movements precise, as if they’ve done this countless times before.
My gaze drifts across the vault, eventually settling on Ace. He stands with his back to me, pulling a fresh shirt over his head. I’ve never seen him without the careful layers of clothing he uses as armor, making me curious about the things he chooses not to reveal. Does he even know who he is without them?
His back and arms are a map of lean muscle, a testament to strength etched in flesh. The defined ridges of his shoulders taper to a narrow waist, his body honed like a weapon through what must be relentless training, fighting, and surviving.
He turns around, catching my stare. I don’t look away fast enough, and something like amusement flickers in his eyes, an acknowledgment that I’ve been caught. He slides his arms into a loose-fitted jacket and reaches for his mask, the final piece of his identity he’ll don before we leave.
“Finish your tea,” he says, his voice carrying through the chamber. “We move in five.”
I drain the cup, studying the others as they stretch, testing limbs and muscles for readiness, and I suddenly understand.
They are not just predators relying on their supernatural strength; they are warriors who have trained their bodies to perfect their natural advantages. No wonder they’ve survived this long.
“This way,” Kale says, walking over to a section of wall that looks no different from the rest. He pulls a lever cleverly built into a torch.
A seam appears, widening into a narrow passage.
One by one, we file into the tunnel. It’s tight and damp, the ceiling so low that we even have to duck in places.
The walls glisten with moisture, the only sound our breathing and the occasional drip of water from above.
After what feels like an eternity of walking, the tunnel widens into a small chamber. Another door stands before us, this one reinforced with steel, carved with symbols similar to those on the vault entrance. Kale places his hand on the lock the same way he did before, making it open silently.
Beyond lies not the open air I expected, but another chamber, this one filled with dozens of bloodmaids huddled together with frightened eyes.
I spot Oliver, Sophia, but not Lily.
