Chapter 25

Pure exhaustion weighed on Oriel’s shoulders. Losing his fangs had depleted much of his strength, replaced by great feebleness. He felt like he was dying, which was true. But he still had strength enough to search for Cosette.

Who was nowhere to be found.

He stood at the top of the lodge stairs with horror in his eyes. A tussle had clearly happened. Broken picture frames. A crack in the wall. Chips in the wooden stairs, which indicated two vampires had tumbled down. He would have been furious if he wasn’t so exhausted and filled with worry for Cosette’s safety.

The trail continued onward as he spotted blood beside the door, and upon closer inspection, he recognized the smell belonging to Henry. Footsteps in the snow revealed he had dragged her outside. Those footsteps promptly turned into the imprints of carriage wheels. Unfortunately, the trail ended there, as the storm had covered the imprints so he couldn’t tell which way the carriage had traveled.

“Nicolae!” he shouted to the skies for the dozenth time. “Lucian! Dracula!”

No answer. He was too far from the Homeland for them to hear, and he would have materialized back to Ichor Knell if he had enough strength to do so. But he felt only strong enough for one materialization. And he wanted to save it should he find Cosette.

He transformed into a swallow once more, shuddering with the amount of effort it took him. The cold air ruffled his feathers as he flew in the stillness of the evening, the skies no longer buffeted by the unforgiving snowstorm now moving south. He searched with eyes that no longer worked as well as they should. He listened with ears that seemed as if they were clogged with cotton. And he reached out with his nose that found it difficult to discern between human and animal. What had become of him? He was almost useless in this state.

After far too long of searching and coming up with nothing, he perched on a weathervane and breathed heavily at the exertion his search had cost him. There was no sign of Cosette, to his great frustration. Henry and his men must have taken extra precaution in hiding her whereabouts. Even if he had all his senses about him, he still might have turned up with little luck.

Where are you, Cosette?

Panic started to rise within him, but he forced it back down. Being overcome with hysteria would help no one.

He tried to think back on Henry’s words. Cosette was to be sold at auction. But where? And when? Finding an underground auction would take too much time—time he didn’t have. It would necessitate inquiring of the right people in the right circumstances. The process could take days. Weeks. Months, even. Months he didn’t have, as his body was slowly deteriorating. And who knew how long Cosette had before her innocence was taken?

He ruffled the snow from his feathers as he tried to clear his foggy mind.

But then his eyes widened as he overheard a conversation in the pub just across the street. He flew down, landing on the sill of the partially open window.

“I am always suspicious of the cart whenever I see it,” a man muttered before taking a swig of his ale. “It passed through again earlier today. What if there are humans in there?”

Another man snorted. “Humans? Doubtful. More like beasts of some sort. Why else would it be barred? I’m afraid the driver will unleash the beasts on us if I inquire about it.”

The small bit of information was all Oriel needed, as it gave him a lead. With little time remaining, he didn’t bother taking the pains to hide what he was. He transformed right there and entered the window, much to the startled shock of those in the pub.

“What of this cart?” he asked, pushing away his confusion and concern when he wasn’t burned by entering the establishment without permission. It likely had to do with losing his fangs, but he didn’t have time to puzzle over it.

One of the men pointed, his eyes wide. “Y-y-you are a vampire!”

“What do you define as a vampire?”

“A beast with fangs.”

A pang hit his heart, but he tried not to let it bother him. “Then I must not be a vampire, as I do not have any fangs,” he answered. “Which way did the cart go?”

The men still stared at him with wide eyes, and a nearby soldier rested a hand on the hilt of his sword, eyeing him warily. Humans rarely trusted the very creatures that hunted them for food. He didn’t blame them. Honestly, he never understood Willow’s fascination with them. Why should she care for humans when they disliked vampires so soundly? The fact that she had mated with a human and never turned him still astounded him.

“My mate is in danger,” Oriel growled, now losing his patience. “Which way did the cart go?”

“T-t-that way,” the first human stuttered as he pointed to a road leading west.

He wasted no time as he transformed back into a swallow and left the establishment with a burst of renewed speed, heading west on his light, feathery wings.

The road proved easy to follow through the town, but it wasn’t long before the snow became too thick to see the road beneath it. He quickly found himself lost once more. Henry had planned this out perfectly. Oriel’s capture, and then Cosette’s during a raging storm. He started to lose hope he would ever find his dear Cosette. If he had been in his vampire form, he might have wept with heartache. Cosette must be so frightened. And he wasn’t there to protect her.

A scent on the wind snapped his attention back to the road. A familiar scent. It was faint. Very faint. Even fainter as his vampire senses continued to deteriorate.

On his circle back through the darkening skies, he caught the scent again, and his heart beat faster as hope rose within him. It was lavender. It smelled like lavender!

He dove downward with a tip of his wings and suppressed a groan as his transformation tore at him, feeling as if it was ripping him apart as he transformed into a vampire. His hope for Cosette turned to horror for himself. He knew he only had one more swallow transformation left before he would be unable to perform the feat. He was very much in danger of stranding himself in the snow and leaving Cosette alone to face her demons.

When he caught his breath, he bent down where he had caught the lavender scent. He brushed snow aside, and his eyes widened when he found a snow pearl coated in blood. Cosette’s blood. His first thought was she had been hurt, but upon closer inspection, he realized something important—Cosette had dropped this in the hopes of him finding her.

“There must be more,” he whispered.

Thirteen more, to be precise, if she had dropped each of her pearls.

Pain tore at him again as he transformed into a swallow, knowing he couldn’t un transform again lest he strand himself in his natural form. He darted through the skies in search of another bloodied pearl, and to his immense relief, he found it five minutes later nearly a fourth of a mile away from the first. And then another about the same distance away. The snowy countryside passed by in a blur of white as he followed the trail of bloodied pearls west.

Thank you, Cosette.

The skies became darker and brought with it a sense of foreboding. He feared he would be too late. The thought alone spurred him faster and faster, and he darted through the skies as fast as his wings allowed. Although he was a fast flyer, his strength could only last so long.

Not much time passed before his body became fatigued with immense weariness. His wings drooped, and he resorted to gliding lest he fall right out of the sky in his exhaustion.

He struggled to keep himself in the air, and he cursed his bad luck. If he hadn’t gotten defanged, he would have been able to fly for many more miles without suffering from a hint of fatigue.

His wings drooped farther, which brought him closer to the ground, and he nearly gave in to his fatigue when he caught sight of a city. A grand city. Not as large as Ironfell, the human emperor’s city, but it was large. And he knew Cosette was here. He could feel it.

With renewed energy, he swooped down low, dodging people and carts and animals in the streets as he searched for Cosette’s last pearl. He smelled it first rather than noticed it getting trampled on the ground, packed into the snow. It was a rundown part of the city, with buildings near to falling apart and peasants who looked as ragged emotionally as their clothes.

Come on, he thought desperately to himself. Just one more clue, Cosette. Just one more.

He swooped back and forth over the humans’ heads. People swatted at him as if he were a pest. But he didn’t give up his search. Not with Cosette so close.

I can’t do it, he thought, giving in to his discouraging thoughts as he landed on a signpost for “Silvia’s Trinkets.” There were no more pearls for him to follow. Cosette could be in any one of these buildings. Where would they hold an auction for vampire females?

But as long as he still lived, he refused to give up finding her.

He struggled to take breaths into his small swallow lungs. Everything inside of him ached from his lungs to his head to his heart. Was Cosette already gone to him? Was he too late?

There was no choice but to rest for a minute as he caught his breath and tried to think through his swimming thoughts. Which way had the cart gone? It was impossible to tell amidst the dozens of tracks in the compacted snow, including tracks from animals, humans, and numerous carts, carriages, and wagons.

But as fewer people littered the streets as they returned to their homes for the night, his senses weren’t quite as overwhelmed. Hope surged inside him when he once again caught the familiar scent of lavender.

He swooped down from the signpost, anticipation building inside of him as he realized the scent was stronger than the pearls. He might have found her!

But to his dismay, as he dipped around the corner, he only found a scrap of fabric on the ground. He dropped down into the snow in his swallow form and smelled the fabric. It had definitely belonged to Cosette. She had been here.

He dove into the nearby building, finding it as run down as the rest of this part of the city. It appeared as if the roof might fall in at any moment, so he took care not to fly too close to the rafters. His fluttering wings echoed across the empty space as he once again searched for any sign of Cosette.

She was not here.

He turned to fly out of the building to search elsewhere when he heard voices downstairs. Male voices. And with them, clinking coins. Even though his ears still felt stuffed with cotton, he heard them just fine.

“—fetched such a fine price. Our largest sum yet.”

“Perhaps we’ve been setting our sights too low,” another said. “What we need are more of the Three Graces. The shah’s grandson. I hear he’s living amongst humans.”

“And with an old vampire and a blood hunter. We would never get close enough to secure his capture.”

Fury rose within him at the mention of Willow’s son. These were most certainly the vampire slavers who had taken Cosette, and he would die before he let them take any more innocent vampires like Jesper or Cosette.

His fury fueled him as he swooped into view. Before the vampire slavers had a chance to react, he released his transformation mid-air and pulled the iron stake from his pocket where he had stored it earlier. His hand burned fiercely before he slammed it into the heart of a brown-haired vampire and into the neck of the second. The third vampire immediately jumped into a defensive stance, a male with a scar on his face, who promptly pulled out a dagger. It was made of steel and not iron. It couldn’t kill him.

But then again, perhaps it could without his fangs.

“Where is Cosette?” Oriel growled, still holding the iron stake in his hand in spite of the seething burn it created.

The only vampire—Scar, he decided to call him—not bleeding to death on the ground watched him warily.

“Covaci…” Scar murmured, looking him up and down. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

I very nearly feel dead.

“Which is exactly what you will be if you don’t tell me who you sold Cosette to.”

Scar widened his stance, but he didn’t attack. “I would rather you not bother my clients. It will ruin my reputation.”

He spat at Scar’s feet. “Your reputation means nothing to me next to Cosette’s innocence. I killed both of your friends here. My fangs are gone. I am not afraid to die. If you make me fight you, you will be fighting with a vampire with nothing left to lose.”

A spark of fear flashed across Scar’s eyes, but he quickly concealed it.

Still, he kept his mouth clamped shut, so Oriel lied. “Don’t make me bring Dracula into this. He’s now my kin, and I know without a doubt he will rain his vengeance upon this city should I ask it of him. Think of all your clients. Dead. What will that do to your reputation?”

The vampire snarled and threw his dagger aside. “Go, then. She is sold to a Mr. Dahl at the east end of the city. A very wealthy man. I assured him he should not be expecting any of her Dragomir family to come after her.”

“I am her family,” he snapped, acting tougher and braver than he felt. His body shivered with weakness, and he knew he stood no chance should he attempt to fight the other vampire.

Thankfully, Scar stayed put as Oriel ran up the stairs—or at least tried to run—and stumbled out into the cold night air. He swayed on his feet as he fought to maintain his balance in his fatigued state.

But he had a mate to find.

He could no longer transform into a swallow, and he still dared not use his last materialization when he still didn’t know where, exactly, Mr. Dahl lived.

With his last reserves of energy, he hurried down the beaten snowy streets, trying his best to ignore the bite of chill in his bones. He was close. So very close.

“Please,” he begged to the heavens. “Please let me not be too late.”