Tristan had thanked a vampire. Talking to the vampire was already bad enough, but now Tristan had also thanked him.
He hadn’t been himself ever since the vampire had donated his blood to him. Now that he thought about it, he should have expected that the blood transfusion would affect him beyond just the temporary ability to hear some of the vampire’s thoughts. Vampires could create ghouls by feeding humans their blood, so how could a transfusion not have affected Tristan in some strange way?
A powerful vampire with influential friends didn’t need Tristan’s help with anything, so what did Verner really want from him? What if the thoughts Tristan had heard—including the one about having been betrayed before—had been meant to manipulate him into trusting the vampire? Tristan had to admit to himself that he’d been incredibly foolish to agree to cooperate with Verner merely to avoid two weeks of having nothing to do. Though if he’d refused, perhaps Verner would have killed both him and the grand inquisitor. Why hadn’t Verner killed the grand inquisitor?
Tristan lacked training in mind games, and vampires were known to excel at manipulation. He didn’t understand what the vampire was doing, and he wasn’t going to understand, so all he could do for now was assume some dark long-term goal from the monster and resist his influence.
His heart raced as he thought about the possible consequences of deceiving His Eminence. He might lose the only home he’d ever known, and with it, his purpose in life. What would he be without the Inquisition?
He turned off the shower and took a few deep breaths. The vampire could hear his heartbeat, so he had to keep it steady. He couldn’t appear weak in front of the supernatural predator.
After stepping out of the shower and drying himself, he inspected the clothes provided for him and was relieved to see they weren’t particularly revealing. The black pants looked perfectly normal, and the only issue with the gray shirt was that it lacked—by design, it seemed—a few buttons at the top.
He got dressed, threw out the little card with his false name on it, and walked out of the bathroom.
Verner was lying prone on the floor, partially under his bed, the sight unexpected and bizarre. Had he found something Tristan had missed earlier, or was he looking for a button from the torn shirt?
Realizing that his eyes had lingered on the vampire’s backside, Tristan looked away, ashamed.
There was a soft bump, followed by Verner’s, “Ouch!” When Tristan returned his gaze to him, Verner was back on his feet and holding up a button.
“Got it!” he said with a grin. Why was he tidying up this place? “How are the stitches?”
“Fine,” Tristan replied. “Why are you wasting time and energy on tidying up? We won’t be staying here long.”
“Just felt like it.”
“Can you remove that door?”
Verner tilted his head. “I could do that, but what then?”
“We were supposed to find out what was happening here. We have done that, so there’s no reason to keep up this charade. Let’s get out of here and take care of those criminals. You said you could use compulsion on people. That should help us.”
“Can’t use it on that demon or fairy, though.”
“Fairy.”
Verner lifted an eyebrow. “How are you so sure? I can’t really tell myself.”
“I have a tattoo here,” Tristan said, pointing to his left hip. “All inquisitors get one. It’s black, but when I’m in close proximity to a demon, it turns red and becomes hot.”
“The Inquisition is so bloody hypocritical. That tattoo is magic, and your organization is against magic.”
Tristan frowned. “The priest who applied the tattoo called it a blessing of the Twins.”
“And how old were you when you got the tattoo?”
“Eighteen.”
“Well, you have a magic tattoo, handsome. Ask your grand inquisitor if it’s a blessing. You were most likely too young and inexperienced to be able to tell what that priest truly was.”
Tristan shook his head. “The Inquisition is against magic use.”
“Then do you believe in the Twins?”
“I—This is none of your business, vampire,” Tristan said, annoyed that his pulse was picking up. “Will you open that door or not?”
“What about your stitches?”
“They’re not your problem.”
“Not my problem? Okay, Inquisitor Starling, let me tell you something: you’re being fucking annoying.”
Tristan blinked, surprised at the vampire’s harsh tone.
“Look, I get it,” Verner said. “I’m a vampire, so you don’t trust me. And you hate hearing unpleasant truths about your precious organization. But you agreed to work together. I didn’t bloody force you to come here with me, so can’t you at least pretend that we’re a team?”
“They’re not truths.”
“Ask the grand inquisitor about that tattoo. If you get out of here alive, that is.” Without waiting for Tristan’s response, Verner turned into a blur of motion before slamming into the door and breaking it. “Let’s go.”
It took Tristan a moment to stop staring and follow him into the corridor.
Verner gave him back his knife. “I’ll be doing my monster things, so you can have it.”
Two guards came from around the corner and ran toward them. Verner became a blur again, and a moment later, he was drinking blood from one of them. Tristan forced himself to ignore it and knocked out the other guard, then the next two who appeared.
After dropping his unconscious victim on the ground, Verner licked his lips, then wiped the rest of the blood off his face with the back of his hand. “Just so you know, I didn’t do it for fun. I needed the blood.”
“So that’s what you were hiding from me. You hadn’t drunk any blood after the transfusion.”
“Yeah, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I didn’t want you to worry that I would try to drink from you again.”
“Even if I wished to argue,” Tristan said, “there is no time for it. Let’s keep going.”
Verner nodded, but Tristan hadn’t even taken two steps when Verner blocked his path with his arm. “Wait. She’s coming.”
“The fairy. She put me to sleep earlier. You might have to fight her alone.”
“Not necessarily. Do you trust me?”
Tristan gave the vampire a look that hopefully answered the question.
Verner chuckled. “Oh well. Just wanted to use that line. It often appears in books.”
Blood trickled down Tristan’s neck. He lifted a hand to the bite mark, unsure what to think, but something told him he shouldn’t be too quick to accuse the vampire of simply messing with him.
The fairy approached them and waved a hand, her gaze fixed on Tristan. She frowned when nothing happened.
“I’m sorry, lady,” Verner said, “but your magic can’t affect him right now.”
She studied Tristan for a long moment before turning to Verner. “A vampire lord? My master doesn’t know what kind of treasure he has here.”
“Are you bound to him in some way?” Verner asked her. “Because it makes no sense that a supernatural being would support what’s been happening here.”
She nodded. “My master has a lock of my hair that was dipped in my blood and his. He carries it in a locket. And I’m sorry, but I must try to stop you.” She turned invisible before reappearing behind Verner and binding him with some vines.
Verner broke free easily but was immediately attacked again, this time by some kind of blood whip that wrapped around his neck. Tristan tried to cut the whip with his knife, but since the task proved impossible, he turned his attention to the fairy herself and pushed the blade through her forearm. The whip then disappeared into her palm.
When the fairy reached for Tristan, he grabbed her wrist with his left hand and aimed the knife at her neck with his right. Her blood whip clasped around his wrist, and they found themselves at a stalemate.
“I do not wish to kill you, human,” the fairy said as vines emerged from the floor and coiled around Tristan’s legs.
Verner tried to attack her from behind, but she had predicted his move and had vines pull him back. He broke free, though, and used his superior speed to attack, pushing his clawed hand through the fairy’s stomach. The vines and the whip withdrew, and she staggered backward.
Tristan raised the knife and was about to stab the monster when something made him hesitate. He frowned when his eyes met the fairy’s big and blue and terrified ones. She stared at him with the same expression the vampire from the cathedral had right before Tristan had stabbed him.
Why was he remembering that vampire?
He took a deep breath and made to kill the fairy, but Verner stopped him with his free hand.
“And there I thought you were having a moment of epiphany,” Verner said with what sounded like mock disappointment.
“If we let her live, she’ll attack us again.”
Verner let go of Tristan’s wrist and plunged his fangs into the fairy’s neck. After drinking from her for a few seconds, he gently lowered her to the ground, unconscious.
“Let’s find her master and get that locket,” he said.
“Her master is the duke, though. Do you think you’ll be able to compel him to give up the locket and then forget about us?”
“I think so. Especially with the fairy’s blood in my system.”
Tristan nodded. “But if it doesn’t work, we’ll have to kill him.” He pressed a hand against the bite mark on his neck. “Um, could you…”
“Oh.” Verner smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, I forgot.” He stopped the bleeding and said, “Anyway, if compulsion fails, he dies. But I hope we won’t have to kill him. It would be better if we led to his arrest.”
“Agreed.”
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