What was happening to me? Had I fallen so far into insanity that I was completely willing to overlook the fact that Byron was a psychopath and a murderer?
I mean, what’s a murder or ten between friends, right?
Nobody’s perfect.
I was fucking screwed.
I wish I’d never started to get these visions or messages from the other side or whatever the fuck they were. I missed the guy I used to be. He’d been sure of himself. Happy, if a little lonely, but he knew where his life was taking him. Now, I was adrift in the dark and tied to a man who looked like he wanted to eat me alive.
And I didn’t think I’d mind that.
That was the terrifying truth. IwantedByron.
I could wrap it up in lies and half-truths to try to convince myself I’d gone mad, but the reality was that Byron made me feel safe in a way no one else ever had. He’d burn the world for me and not feel a moment’s regret.
I really was fucking screwed, wasn’t I?
“Want to talk about it?” Vlad offered as he snatched a glass of white wine off a passing waiter and handed it to me.
I wasn’t sure drinking alcohol was the best thing to do right now, but I took a sip anyway hoping that it might settle the unease currently chewing through my stomach. “Not really.”
“Okay, well how about something else then? Did you hear about the wendigo?”
“What? No,” I replied, my curiosity piqued. I hadn’t heard of a wendigo being in this country for years. “Where is he?”
Vlad flicked his eyes to the basement. “In the medical bay.”
“He’s here? Aren’t you afraid he’s going to eat everyone?”
There was a disturbance in the air next to me and Acheron appeared looking like a bauble in his gold sequined jacket and trousers.
“Are you talking about our new guest?” he asked, a wicked gleam in his silver eyes. “Isn’t it exciting? An actual real-life wendigo!”
“Hush,” Vlad admonished. “We don’t want everyone to know he’s here.”
“Don’t be so droll, Vlad,” Acheron laughed. “No one would believe us, anyway. We’re talking about a fuckingwendigo!I for one, can’t wait to meet him.”
“I hope he eats you,” I said as I downed the rest of the wine.
“Rude,” Acheron quipped, but he was holding back a smile.
I don’t even know why we bickered so much but we both seemed to enjoy pissing each other off. There was something fun about seeing how much I could wind up the old charmer, especially if I could perform better magic than him, despite only being twenty-four and he was… well, I didn’t think anyone actually knew how old he was. Not even him.
“Byron found him on a job this afternoon,” Vlad said as he adjusted his tie slightly. Usually, the vampire wore practical clothing—combat trousers, tight fitting t-shirt and boots—tonight he wore a dark grey pinstripe suit and the man brushed up well. His brown hair was freshly cut, but he’d left a little stubble along his square jaw.
“The vampire hunting one?” I asked.
Vlad nodded, his mouth tight. “Yeh. Bit of a weird job, that one. Nothing went to plan—”
“Is Byron alright?” I interrupted.
Vlad’s eyebrows jumped to his hairline. “A few scratches, but he’ll live. Are you sure you’re alright? It’s not like you to ask after Byron.”
“Does anyone?” Acheron scoffed, and I had to resist the urge to zap him with some magic.
“It’s…complicated,” I managed to spit out. That was the easiest way to describe whatever this was going on between us. I was more hung up on the fact that Acheron’s offhanded comment annoyed me.
“Complicated sounds interesting,” Acheron said as he sidled closer to me. “Tell me more.”