Page 53 of Fangs

My heart sinks. “So there is nothing we can do.”

He crosses to me, his hands finding my waist. He pulls me against him, and I feel the cold of his body, the solid strength of him.

“Do not worry about that now, Lucy.” His voice drops to a whisper. “I am here as a ghost. And I promise that I am bound to you in my heart, and my shadows will forever haunt you.”

The words break something inside me. I press my face against his chest, feeling the absence of a heartbeat beneath my ear.

“Forever,” I repeat. “That is a long time.”

“Not long enough.” His lips brush my hair. “Not nearly long enough.”

I wish I could believe him. But how can a ghost claim a woman meant for the living?

The only way for us to really be together is to break this goddamn curse.

Marked

The library swallows me whole.

I have spent hours here. Days. The shadows bring me food and wine, and I consume them without tasting, my eyes never leaving the pages spread across the massive oak table. Books surround me in towering stacks, their spines cracked with age, their pages yellowed and brittle. I have read about curses and bindings, about demonology and blood magic, about the nature of darkness and the power of ancient oaths.

Nothing.

Nothing in any of these texts offers a solution. Nothing explains how to break a curse that has held a three-thousand-year-old vampire-demon trapped in a portrait for two centuries.

I slam another book shut, frustration burning in my chest. Dust motes dance in the shaft of light that cuts through the library window. Outside, the sun climbs higher, and I realize with a jolt that I have been here since dawn.

Today is the last day.

My period ended yesterday. The bleeding stopped. The heat has faded. There is no reason for me to remain in this tower any longer. Lady Vesper will come this afternoon to escort me back to the manor. Back to the other girls. Back to the nightmare of the Crimson Order. I have money enough to run away and I will never see Blake again.

I press my palms to my eyes, willing the tears away. Last night, he held me in his arms, his body cold and solid against mine. We made love in the ancient bed, the shadows curling around us like a living blanket.

He whispered my name like a prayer, and I felt a current snap through my veins—a wildfire that recognized its own kin.

I can’t leave him. I will not. But I do not have a choice…

Or do I?

The thought strikes me like lightning. My hands drop from my face, and I stare at the books around me. I have been looking for answers in the wrong places. The texts are filled with spells and rituals, with complicated incantations and impossible requirements. None of them apply to Blake. None of them can break his curse.

But what if the answer is simpler?

What if love is what breaks the curse?

It is a foolish idea. Childish. The stuff of fairy tales and bedtime stories. True love’s kiss breaking the evil spell.

And yet.

I think of Blake. Of the way he looked at me when he confessed his love. Of the way he held me like I was the most precious thing in the world.

He loves me. I love him. If that means anything—if love has any power in this world of shadows and monsters—then perhaps it is enough.

I grab one of the books I discarded earlier. A thin volume with a cracked leather cover, its pages filled with instructions for mirror magic. The spell is simple, requires blood and the spoken truth of the heart, repeated three times before the portrait.

I tuck the book into my bodice and stand. My legs are stiff from hours of sitting. My back aches. But I feel lighter than I have in days because I finally have a plan.

I find the clean Crimson Order uniform that the shadows brought me days ago. It is still folded where they left it, pressed and pristine. I dress quickly, my fingers fumbling with the buttons. The fabric feels rough against my skin after the silks of the tower, but I don’t care.