Page 92 of Tainted Souls
To her left walks Imposter Egon, his tawny skin and spiky hair now gone, darkened to sable and shorn close. Stretch panels span his joints and torso, further reinforced with blackened steel. To her right, the man with blond locks rolls his shoulders as if shaking off a long march. Black baggy jeans fall in heavy folds around his legs, creasing over boots tipped with small spikes. Not a single weapon hangs from their bodies, because theyarethe weapons.
The forest opens to reveal the dark silhouette of a mansion perched precariously on the edge of a peninsula, jutting into the enormous lake beyond. Its spires and turrets reach toward the stars, windows glowing with a faint amber light. We movethrough overgrown gardens where stone angels stand sentinel among wild red roses. The structure looms larger with each step, its weathered facade telling stories of decades past.
I try to reconstruct the path we took through the forest, but it’s like trying to map a dream where the trails shift and double back on themselves, landmarks appearing where none should be. The forest around the mansion is a maze, deliberately designed to confuse and disorient. Even if I managed to escape and wanted to find my way back on my own, I couldn’t. The realization settles heavily.
I’m completely dependent on Redmoore now.
CHAPTER 19
INSIDE, THE MANSION EXUDESa faded grandeur, opulent yet decaying, frozen in time like its immortal inhabitants. An ornate chandelier hangs from the soaring ceilings, its many arms bearing flickering candles that cast shadows across marble floors. Antique furniture, some pieces looking older than the vampires who own them, stands in a quiet procession along the walls. Burnt incense and aged parchment dominate, undercut by something metallic that hints at blood.
I keep my head down, acutely aware that I’m in the heart of enemy territory.
The redhead turns to Saul, gesturing toward a side door. “Get her settled in the lounge. I’ll inform him of her arrival.”
Saul nods and guides me into a room lined with bookshelves and leather furniture. This space feels warmer than the rest of the mansion, a smoldering fire crackling in a stone hearth and four settees arranged in a loose circle. The other two Ravens follow us in, taking positions near the doorway.
I sink into one of the settees, my body rigid with fatigue, each limb stiff and aching from the past week of captivity. Soft cushions embrace me like an old friend, making it hard to maintain my guard.
“How long am I supposed to stay here?” I ask my brother.
He leans against a bookshelf, arms crossed, the wood creaking softly under his weight. “Until the Veltri aren’t a threat anymore.”
“Cain?”
He lifts a brow, unimpressed. “Yes. The herbs still affecting you?”
I ignore his snide remark, prioritizing getting as much information about my enemies while I’m here. “How many clans are there?”
Saul groans under his breath, pushing a hand through his hair. “Do I really have to explain all this?”
Across the room, the blond Raven perks up from his slouch against the mantel, as if he’d been waiting for an excuse to chime in. “I can,” he offers with a smirk that’s more invitation than courtesy. “In private, if we must. Perhaps over a drink?”
Saul’s expression hardens instantly. “No, Reece.” He pushes off the bookshelf and steps forward, retrieving a silver cigarette case from his pocket and flipping it open. “I’ll do it myself.”
Reece chuckles but says nothing more, the amusement lingering in his eyes.
“Three worth mentioning,” Saul begins, his voice edged with reluctant patience. “The Veltri are radicals who believe humans should be subjugated, not coexisted with, deeming themselves the rightful rulers of this world.”
He extracts a cigarette, tapping it against the case before placing it between his lips. A small flame dances at his fingertip as he lights it, the cindered sweetness of old tobacco filling the air.
Watching him smoke still stirs something within me, no matter how many times I’ve seen it. He’s a dhampir, like me, not a vampire like the others. And yet, he’s always picked up their habits so easily.
Nicotine may temper the thirst, take the edge off without dulling the senses. A temporary fix, but useful when hunger threatens control. Saul picked it up early, like most of them do, and now he clings to it as if it’d make him one of them.
“The Malvagi prefer to hide among humans and play dollhouse,” he continues, a plume of smoke curling from his lips toward the ceiling. “The Corvi consider hunting primitive and feed instead by luring prey through carefully crafted environments or simple transactions.”
It’s a mouthful, but I guess even vampires need a brand strategy. As I’m listening, my mind latches onto every name Saul drops—Veltri, Malvagi, Corvi—cataloging them for later, their differences potential pressure points. Weaknesses I might exploit if it comes to that. What kind of environments do the Corvi craft? How do the Malvagi blend in? If the Veltri are as violent as they sound, what’s stopping them from storming this place right now?
“What about you?” I shift on the settee, trying to make sense of it all. “The Ravens.”
“We’re more of a friend group than anything.” Saul shrugs, taking another drag. “Autonomy matters to us.”
Hearing my brother speak of these creatures as kindred makes me want to set him straight with my fists, knocking the delusion out of him. “What’s the endgame?” I ask, pushing past the overwhelm and zeroing in on the answers I need. “Save Mom? Kill Cain? With a killer for a leader, that shouldn’t be too difficult.”
Saul’s eyes meet mine, and for once, there’s no mockery or challenge in them. Just cold certainty. “It’s not that simple.”He takes another drag, the ember glowing bright before fading again. “Cain is a Noble. You can’t just kill him and call it a day. He’s protected by a network that spans centuries.”
I swallow hard, a bad feeling curdling in my gut. “How exactlycanhe be killed?”
