Page 53 of Blood

The scent hits me now — iron-rich, potent. My canines don’t quite have the lethal edge Kole’s do. Thankfully, I don’t need them to now he’s opened her for me.

She raises her wrist to my mouth, and her blood drips onto my lips.

I drink, wincing at first, but then sinking into the taste of her. The feel of her blood entering my body. Her power. Her essence.

The world is sharpening around me.

Power surges, electrifying, pulling me into a heightened state of awareness.

I close my eyes, reaching out. Searching for that familiar energy.

Focus. Reach. Find.

Miranda.

There was a time when I’d need an object or something that belonged to the person in order to find them. Now, I simply picture the photograph Rev showed us before we left, and mutter her name.

Suddenly, I’m gone. Whisked away. Darkness gives way to a dim room draped in crimson, echoes of hushed conversations, and the metallic tang of blood in the air.

Eyes. I’m seeing through someone else’s. Miranda’s.

My hands – her hands – are bound, restless, nervous. Voices drift closer. The mention of a deal, the AMA, the importance of secrecy. And then... a laughter, cold, cruel, unmistakable.

A woman with long black hair flits into view. Ethereal, but with a darkness surrounding her that makes me want to scream.

I feel you. Who are you? Why are you here?

That voice.. who was that?

You are in my head. Who are you?

Holy fuck. This has never happened before. A host has never spoken to me, never acknowledged my presence. I didn’t even know this was possible.

So, you’re an empath. A powerful one, it seems.

She can hear me. My thoughts. Fuck.

Would you mind putting a cap on the curse words, my dear? I do abhor swearing.

I mutter a wordless apology and my host – Miranda – seems to relax.

Are you here to help or hinder?

Before I’ve answered, she sighs contentedly.

My niece and the professor. They sent you. Good. But I can’t tell you where I am. I have no idea. Only that Zephyra’s henchmen are the ones who took me.

Zephyra. That’s the second time I’ve heard the name.

I’ve been here three days. A train goes past every fifty minutes, which I think means I’m close to the Cambridge to London line. A dog barks incessantly. Early in the morning. And at night it’s deathly quiet.

She blinks, turning so I can see her cell. Black. Dark. Not a cell… a room. In what looks like a completely ordinary house, except for the boarded-up windows.

She turns again, and another shadow flits across the doorway.

This time, it stops and turns in our direction. A male vampire. Tall, skinny, with black veins undulating beneath his skin.

“Witch,” he says. “Are you ready for today’s session?”