Page 26 of Tainted Souls
Should you wish to confer upon this matter, meet me at the old clocktower in Blackham on the fifteenth day of this month. Come alone.
The letter slipped from my fingers, floating to the floor like a dead leaf. My lungs constricted, making each breath painful as wrath surged through me. How dare he? Howfuckingdare he?
I crumpled the paper in my fist, a scream building in my throat that I barely managed to contain. This was a trap, obviously. A sick game.
My mother had disappeared years ago, presumed dead by everyone except my father, who never stopped searching until he was killed by the same man who now dared to offer us ‘help.’ He had to be an utter psychopath to offer condolences for a murder he committed and dangle information about our mother like bait.
When Saul came home that night, I thrust the crumpled letter at him. “Read this,” I spat. “The nerve of this bloodsucker.”
Saul smoothed out the parchment, his eyes widening as he read. I expected him to share my outrage, to curse and rant and plan revenge with me.
Instead, he folded the letter carefully and slipped it into his pocket.
“We should hear him out,” he said quietly.
“Are you insane?” I exploded. “He killed Dad! He’s playing us!”
“He knows something about Mom,” Saul insisted, his voice taking on a raw edge I’d never heard before. “What if she’s alive? What if we could find her?”
“It’s bullshit,” I said, pacing. “Absolute bullshit. He’s lying to get us alone, to finish what he started at Redmoore.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know he’s a murderer!”
“And I know I’m tired of wondering!” Saul slammed a fist into the wall hard enough to leave a dent, silencing me. “Ten years, Seraph. Ten years without a word from her. Don’t you want answers?”
I did. Of course I did. But not fromhim.
“We’re not going,” I said with finality. “End of discussion.”
Saul’s eyes hardened. “You don’t get to decide for both of us.”
The argument escalated from there, harsh words exchanged until we were both drained and exhausted. We went to bed angry, our room seeming smaller than ever with the weight of our disagreement pressing in from all sides.
The following days we orbited each other like faraway planets, connected by gravity but never truly touching.
A few days before the 15th, on the day of our father’s funeral, Saul left a note on my bedside table.
I need answers. Don’t follow me.
He knew I was preparing to keep him from going, so he’d planned his escape before that would happen. I cursed out loud, but tried not to worry, telling myself he was capable of making his own choices, even incredibly terrible ones.
I stood alone at the headstone, placing fresh flowers against the cold granite, the empty space beside me conspicuous even to others.
Especially to others.
Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months. No word from Saul.
The academy halls of Redmoore seemed to stretch endlessly before me, each step an exercise in isolation.
Whispers followed me wherever I went. Conversations halted when I entered a room, only to resume in hushed, urgent tones once I passed. The dining hall was the worst—a sea of tables without a single welcoming face. I’d stand there, tray in hand, scanning for somewhere to sit until I’d eventually retreat to a corner alone.
The general, just Rong back then, tried to shield me from the worst of it. “Give them time,” he said, his weathered face pinched with concern. “Grief and fear makes people irrational.”
But even he didn’t know what to make out of my survival and my brother’s disappearance, evident in the way I was sidelined while the others advanced, gaining trust and privileges I was denied. Every assignment I’d hoped to earn was quietly reassigned. I was barred from meetings, left out of sensitive briefings, and never trusted with the confidential intel the others handled without a second thought.
During a particular field exercise where we were hunting a vampire in the northern woods in pairs, my partner, Ellis, was supposed to cover my flank.
