The Vampire And His Lady (Silver Hills #2)

Chapter 24

Henry was asleep on Jax by the time Diana returned to the cell. She didn't bother to wake him- at least in rest he wasn't tormented.

Jax's moon white eyes darted towards her suspiciously. She just shook her head and curled up in the opposite corner, out of the way of the dappled colours dancing through the stained glass window.

Would they make windows for her? Would the colours be red and white as they depicted a sainthood she never asked for?

So much waiting. That was the worst of it.

When food and drink arrived some imperceptible amount of time later, appearing from a mist on the ground, Diana didn't think twice before grabbing it. As soon as she lifted the bowl to her lips, she tasted the tang of magic on her tongue, bitter like blood, but she devoured it anyway. Her bones seemed to spark underneath her skin, ripples boiling under flesh.

How long until she was prime for the slaughter? I don't really care to know.

It wasn't long until she also felt exhaustion pulling her under. She didn't want to sleep. Every hour was precious. Diana should spend each one with Henry, but... he was unconscious. Was it so bad for her to finally have some peace?

The last thing she saw were Jax's teeth as he yawned, sharp as daggers and white as bone.

~

Diana fell into another dream; the drop through reality was ephemeral and filled with more stained-glass colours.

Eventually, she landed, feeling the world around her take shape. Dim lights filled the dark room, the scent of salt and butter surrounding her.

She let her eyes open and turned her head to see a black shoe next to her face. With a start, she sat up.

A cinema. Of all the places she'd been brought, this was perhaps the strangest, on the merit of its mundanity if nothing else.

The screen was blank and the room appeared empty beside from the owner of the shoe.

Diana looked up and felt her chest cave in.

Lord Victor Thornwood.

Fast asleep across two of the chairs, one leg dangling down and a dark heavy overcoat thrown across his body.

She reached out a finger to brush a strand of hair from his face, luxuriating in the touch of his cool skin. This was a blessing at least, to see him one last time. Even if it was like this. Possibly not real.

Real enough.

Thornwood stirred slightly, his hand flying out to touch something at his waist. Diana pulled back the coat to reveal a sword snapped at the centre made of a pale white material. For some reason, it made her feel nauseous to look at. She covered it again, feeling the sickness pass as she did.

Now what? She knelt beside him, uncertain of what to do. Even in her dream she still wore the gold dress. It made everything feel too grounded in truth. She couldn't act as she wished because she feared the consequences, even drifting through time like she was.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to him, her breath feeling shaky and unstable. "I'm sorry that I keep on dying," she choked out. "I'm sorry that I didn't remember sooner. I'm sorry I wasted what little time we had."

She couldn't help it; she leant her head again this chest. There was no rise and fall. No heart beat. Yet the deafening silence was comforting.

He didn't look so much like his father. There was a kindness in him that Rydaryth didn't have. A love in his heart she didn't believe Shadowlords were capable of.