Chapter 76 Ch. 46
He wasn't sure how long the fall lasted, but he was well aware of the wind screaming eerily into his ears and the excruciating pain that shot through his body the moment he hit solid ground. He groaned, rolling on the cold marble floor, and then opened his eyes, blinking.
It was completely different from what he remembered.
"You remodeled." He looked around the space. What had been antique and pure brown wood, with green vines hanging around was now replaced with dark marble, giving the space a gothic appearance.
"I've been obsessed with being a villain lately," she said airily as she walked down the stairs, a staff in hand, and her long black dress trailing behind her. Her voice was like a breeze.
"You look different too."
"Hm," she hummed, her judgmental eyes taking in his haphazard outer appearance. Her nose turned up at him. "You are dripping all over my floor, Matteo."
"The rain," Dylan said. "And Dylan."
"I don't care what new name you have picked out with the humans now, Matteo," she sighed. She sat on a chair, one leg crossed over the other, and then, she set her cane down. "What brings you here?"
"You invited me. Your raven..."
"My raven only gives permission. You have been wanting to come, but fear keeps you away."
"How is she?" Dylan questioned, running a hand through his wet hair.
"Well, I stole her from a morgue, like you wanted."
"Well, yes. Because you owe me. And I wanted her stolen because... I... She can still live... You can do something, can't you?"
"You expect me to snatch a soul back from Azrith? I don't think the God of Death would take kindly to that."
"She... She wasn't gone. She was still a wandering soul... Did you not do something? Did you wait until her soul was finally taken away from this world?"
"I let her soul be where it is supposed to be."
Dylan's fingertips turned cold.
"Follow me, Matteo." She stood up and smoothed the matte black dress that clung to her slender frame. Her silver curly hair framed her face and she bent to pick up the cane she did not need.
"You're taking your cosplay seriously," Dylan snorted.
"Careful... The way you speak to me."
Dylan said nothing but continued behind her. The staircase led to a large empty expanse with doors everywhere. She led him to one and opened it slowly.
Ivanna lay in the center of the room, on a bed above a boiling cauldron. Her face was as white as the sheets, blending in almost seamlessly. Her blonde hair, however, contrasted sharply.
Dylan moved closer, a strange feeling he couldn't explain settling in the pit of his stomach. His eyes traveled to her arms and then upward, where an IV-like tube was strapped to her wrist. The bag had no liquid or blood, but a grayish mist swirled inside and through the tube.
He stepped closer to her and reached out, locking his fingers in her clammy ones. It was cold... But sweaty. The heat from the cauldron was powerful enough to make him move back, and the smell should have made him spill his guts, but everything in the room had disappeared. He could only see Ivanna.
He needed just one sign of life.
But there was none.
No pulse. No breathing... Nothing. Just stillness.
"Come here," Imogen said. She had her back turned to him and was opening a box with sharp tools. She picked up a sharp, long blade and then sighed. "Wash your arm. You're filthy. Grieving someone you love doesn't mean you abandon yourself."
He washed his hands by the sink at the corner of the room and then went back to her. Her fingers were covered with blue gloves, and very carefully, she wiped his wrist and then cut.
Dylan flinched as the blade sliced through his skin. He watched as the dark liquid gushed out into a petri dish, and then by the command of her voice, whispering a spell, the bleeding stopped.
She picked it up and examined it in the light, then carefully she began to mix various powders while chanting.
"All done," Imogen said, a smile spreading across her features. She walked towards Ivanna, carefully lifting her arm. "Bite her."
"What?"
"We have thirty minutes before her soul stops wandering. Would you prefer her soul to be commended to Azrith?"
"No." He took her arm very carefully, feeling uneasy at the coldness and stiffness of it. Slowly, he bent, his fangs grazing the pit of her elbow before sinking into the vein. Slowly, he pulled back and looked at the spot. No blood, just a slightly pink stain.
"There. Wasn't so hard now, was it?" Imogen moved forward with the petri dish and rubbed the wound with the contents. Then, she forced Ivanna's mouth open and poured the contents into her.
"So?"
"I'm done with you. You can leave," she smiled.
"You... Turned her? She's already dead... Not dying... She can't be—she didn't even have blood in her... Turning won't work. Do you think I didn't think of that when Lorenzo drained her?"
"Within the next twenty-four hours, you will feel shortness of breath, dizziness, chest pain, and multiple tremors," said Imogen, ignoring Dylan's statement. "I'll advise you not to go out."
"Huh?"
"And now she's bonded to you, Matteo. Be careful. You die, she dies. I know you want to get revenge on Lorenzo, but is it really worth putting her at risk?"
"If he so much as knows she's alive... She's already at risk," Dylan remarked, shrugging. "He'll see the constellations. He'll know."
"Then be careful on your pursuit of revenge."
"How long till she... Wakes up?"
"I already told you to leave, didn't I?" She lifted her brows.
"Yeah, I know, I just have a few questions to..." The words died on his tongue. He was outside the cottage once more, his boots digging into the mud.
"Well, shit, we've got to hurr—" the rest of her sentence remained incomplete. "Are those cops?"
"I guess," shrugged Zara, squinting. Two students, girls, were being escorted by police officers into a van. "I'm sure they have a few questions for her friends."
"I don't understand." Prunella was fidgety, sweat gathering on her brows. "I thought they talked to them yesterday... I thought their stories checked out? I thought they concluded it was a serial killer."
"Hey... It's okay... They probably just have a few more unanswered questions... Maybe about the guy she was to meet."
Prunella swallowed hard, taking a step backward as a finger pointed toward her. Alexa was saying something to the cops, something she couldn't hear. But with a finger pointed at her...
The cop nodded to whatever was being discussed and then began walking towards them. "Prunella?"
"Yeah?" Her voice came out as a whimper.
"We'd like you to follow us to the station to answer a few questions." He stopped a few meters away from her. He was a tall, lanky man, with skin dotted with freckles. His long hair framed his face. "I'm Officer Marcus."
Zara glanced towards Prunella, who was probably paler than she had ever seen her. "You can't... You don't have a... An arrest warrant."
"I don't need an arrest warrant because I'm not arresting her," he replied evenly, giving her a pointed look. "And there will be no need for an arrest warrant unless your friend has done something questionable... Like conspiring to kill another student?"
"That's ridiculous." Zara looked appalled. "You can't be serious."
"Hey, it's just a speculation. I'm not making accusations." His tone softened a bit. "We just need to talk to you."
"Why, I wasn't friends with her?" Prunella responded, her voice sounding calmer.
"You hated her."
"I..."
"Look, Officer." Zara stepped in front of Prunella protectively. She wasn't even sure why that instinct kicked in. "Prunella has been a victim of bullying by Yvette. She can't even stand up to her, and you think she could have conspired? You sound fucking ridiculous."
"Look, Miss... I'm not... Accusing her of anything yet..."
"Yet? You can't be serious! A serial killer is on the loose and you are questioning students?"
"Maybe a student has a connection with them," he shrugged. "She may not have the heart to do it. But what if someone cares enough to do it for her?"
Zara's eyes furrowed. "You're grasping at straws."
"Excuse me?" He looked at her with indignation.
"You're desperate to find a killer... To pin someone, and she's the closest thing you can think of because her and Yvette had a hatred thing going on."
"I'm not sure what you're accusing me of."
"Someone you know was killed by this serial killer... Someone who meant something to you. You could not make any plausible connections from the first two murders," Zara paused and heaved. "So now you're desperate?"
"First death. A motel room staff? Second, a journalist who was investigating the case. That's the only connection, but there are no traces. No eyewitnesses or they all have solid alibis."
"I don't see where you're going, Miss."
"Now, you have people whose alibis you've not established. So you're trying to find all means to dig into anyone who would want Yvette dead because then, you may have a link to the killer who killed someone who mattered to you."
Marcus's jaw tightened. "Your theory is wild."
"I guess it's the journalist," Zara sighed. "If she's following, I'm coming along."
"I'll be fine, Zara, you don't have to."
"You don't know much about me, Prunella, but here's one thing you should know now... I never listen to anyone."
They followed him to the van. From her peripheral vision, she could see Ethan jogging up to her, trying to weave through the crowd of students that were gathering to gossip and talk more about the students being taken for questioning.
"Zara." He grabbed her arm as she lifted one foot to step into the van. "Why? You shouldn't..."
"I'm not leaving her to be ravaged by cops."
"She'll be in the interrogation room alone either way," Ethan said quietly. "You're going to be fine, right?" he asked, eyes drifting to Prunella's.
Prunella said nothing but stared at him. Zara's eyes flickered to Ethan's, and for a split second, she could have sworn she saw something flash in them. Fear? Suspicion? Skepticism? Recognition? Empathy?
She wasn't sure.
"Can I come with?" Ethan asked the officer who was speaking with his colleague.
"No," Marcus said firmly. He looked between Zara and Ethan. "If it's because of your girlfriend, you can tell her not to tag along. She's not useful."
"What if I am?" Ethan asked.
"He and Yvette have history. They screwed each other... Toxic-ass relationship last year," it was Alexa that had spoken up, bitterness evident in her tone.
"Yeah," Miranda concurred. "Maybe that's an angle you'd like to start with, Officer Marcus."