Chapter 64

Elizabeth's POV

Sleeping at Chloe's house felt like pressing pause on a life that had already moved on without her.

The night stretched quietly around us, heavy and still. Vanessa and I lay on either side of Chloe, the only light coming from a small lamp on her dresser. Its glow barely touched the corners of the room, leaving shadows curled against the walls like they belonged there.

Chloe stared at the ceiling, arms folded tightly across her chest.

"I hate this," she whispered.

Vanessa turned toward her immediately. "Hate what?"

"All of it." Chloe's voice cracked despite her effort to stay composed. "The darkness. The waiting. The way time feels different now. Like the world keeps going and I'm stuck behind glass."

My throat tightened. Chloe had always been the brightest of us. The one who laughed too loudly, who danced without caring who watched, who filled silence with warmth. Seeing her like this—dimmed, restrained—felt cruel.

"I miss the sun," she said softly. "I miss walking without thinking. I miss not being hungry all the time."

Vanessa reached for her hand. "We're not letting this be your forever."

Chloe let out a small, sad smile. "You say that like you already have a plan."

Vanessa met my eyes over Chloe's head, something determined flickering between us. "We do."

⸻

Morning came too quickly.

Sunlight leaked aggressively through the edges of Chloe's curtains, forcing her to retreat deeper into the shadows while Vanessa and I got dressed. Watching her pull the blanket over her head like armor made my chest ache.

"I hate that I can't even walk you out," Chloe muttered.

"You're not missing much," I said gently. "Just us pretending we know what we're doing."

Vanessa smirked. "Speak for yourself."

Chloe smiled faintly. "Be careful."

That was the thing now. Everything required caution.

⸻

Vanessa's grandmother's house felt heavier than usual.

The air inside was thick with incense and something older—like secrets that had soaked into the walls over generations. Vanessa walked ahead of me, jaw tight, shoulders squared like she was bracing for impact.

Her grandmother stood near the kitchen table, carefully grinding herbs with slow, deliberate movements. She didn't look surprised when we entered.

"I know why you're here," she said without looking up.

Vanessa exhaled sharply. "Then you know we need your help."

Her grandmother finally turned, eyes sharp and assessing. "Your friend is already lost to the darkness."

The words landed hard, echoing in the small room.

Vanessa stiffened. "Don't say that."

"It is the truth."

"She didn't choose this!" Vanessa snapped. "She was attacked. She was murdered."

"And now she feeds," her grandmother replied calmly. "The line has been crossed."

My hands curled into fists. "There has to be something. A spell. Something to help her live a normal life without having to hide."

Her gaze shifted to me, unreadable. "This does not concern you."

Vanessa stepped closer. "It concerns us all."

Silence stretched thick between them.

Finally, her grandmother sighed. "There are daylight amulets. Very few."

Vanessa's breath hitched. "Where?"

"The Elvadores," she said, voice heavy. "Created by the first witches. Guarded by blood and legacy."

My stomach dropped.

"But I will not involve myself with them," she continued.

Vanessa's voice trembled with frustration. "You're just going to let Chloe suffer?"

Her grandmother's expression softened—just barely. "I will help you protect yourself. But the rest..." She glanced at me pointedly. "I would like time alone with my granddaughter."

The dismissal was clear.

Before Vanessa could argue, I stepped back. "It's okay."

Vanessa turned to me sharply. "Liz—"

"I'll head home," I said quietly. "You stay."

Her eyes searched mine. "Are you sure?"

I nodded, forcing calm into my voice. "Yeah."

I left with the weight of unfinished words pressing into my spine.

⸻

I didn't go home.

The French Quarter was alive with muted sounds—music drifting through alleyways, laughter echoing faintly—but the Elvadores' place felt separate from it all. Dark. Still. Like the building itself was watching me.

I hesitated before stepping inside.

"I need to see Damon," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

A familiar presence shifted behind me.

"And here I was hoping you'd given up on me."

I turned.

Damon leaned casually against the staircase, dark clothes hugging his frame, eyes sharp with amusement. His British accent wrapped around every word like a challenge.

"What do I owe this pleasure, Elizabeth?"

I squared my shoulders. "I need a daylight amulet."

His eyebrow lifted. "Straight to business. How refreshing."

"You have them," I said. "Your family."

He descended the stairs slowly, deliberately. Each step felt calculated. "And why would I give one to you?"

"You owe us," I snapped. "You destroyed my best friend's life."

He stopped a few feet away, studying me. "Fair."

"Then fix it."

His lips curved slightly. "Why should I care?"

The question wasn't cruel. It was honest.

I swallowed. "Because it's the right thing to do."

He stepped closer, invading my space. I could feel his warmth, smell something dark and clean and undeniably him.

"You're assuming I care about right and wrong," he murmured.

"You're cold," I whispered.

He tilted his head. "You're just noticing?"

My pulse hammered. "What do you want?"

His gaze dragged over me slowly—not leering, not rushed. Assessing. Curious.

"You move in with us."

I scoffed. "You're out of your mind."

"Am I?" His voice was low now. "You'd be protected."

"By you?" I shot back. "Never."

"Then your friend never sees daylight forever."

Anger flared. "You're cruel."

"I'm practical."

I stepped back, heart racing. "You're monsters."

"And yet," he said softly, "here you are."

The air between us felt charged, like a wire pulled too tight. His eyes lingered on mine, something unreadable flickering beneath the surface.

"I won't do this," I said, voice shaking.

He straightened. "Think about it."

"I won't."

He smiled faintly. "Fate seems fond of forcing your hand."

I turned and walked out before he could see how badly my resolve was cracking.