The Dark Heroine by Abigail Gibbs

Author:Abigail Gibbs
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2012-09-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Forty-three

VIOLET

THE KETTLE WHISTLED as I settled gingerly onto a bar stool, letting my head fall into my hands. I was shattered, overwhelmed, and the shrill whistling echoed painfully in my head, filling the room with the jingling of the pans hanging on the walls.

Shuddering, but not from the cold, I heard the sound of the gas being killed and felt the steam rising as the water stewed, the vapor tickling the tip of my nose.

Raising myself up onto my elbows, I watched as Kaspar ducked down beneath the counter, rummaging in a cupboard for a second, cursing, and then mumbling that he would be back in a minute.

Resting my head back on my arms, I listened to the gentle rise of my chest in the unnatural silence, the occasional wisp of steam escaping from the kettle—the only other sound that my hearing didn’t filter out.

The sound of another’s breath joined mine and I peered through my curtain of hair in time to see Kaspar returning, a dusty bottle of liquor cradled in his arms.

“Finest scotch whisky, 1993, and the last bottle in the cellar so don’t tell Father; he’s rather fond of his spirits.”

And there was me thinking they keep coffins in the wine cellar.

In one fluid moment he unscrewed the cap and took a swig, gulping a ridiculous amount down that would have a human on the floor in seconds—to a vampire it was about as intoxicating as lemonade.

“I said tea! Not whisky,” I said, sounding weaker than I had hoped.

He set the bottle down with a clap, eyeing me the whole time. Not bothering to add milk or sugar, he passed me the steaming mug, sliding it across the counter that separated us. In a blink he was by my side, bottle in hand and taking the mug straight back from me.

“Trust me, after the day you’ve had, you need a shot of this,” he said, pouring a copious amount into my tea while I watched dubiously. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. And it tastes fine; stop looking so disgusted.”

I took it hesitantly. Taking a large mouthful, I almost spat it back out it; it was smoky and, combined with the herbal taste of the tea, just plain disgusting. It left my mouth dry as I forced myself to swallow, and within seconds I felt burning down my throat, which I was sure had nothing to do with the heat of the tea. The room did a somersault, and to stop myself from swaying, I focused on Kaspar, who was knocking back the remainder of the bottle while settling onto a stool and watching me with vague concern.

I set the almost-full mug down, still feeling like I was spinning. “I think I’m just going to leave the rest of that.” As I slid around to face him, our knees brushing, it didn’t feel like the potent stuff had done Kaspar’s intended job. I rested my chin on my hands, closing my eyes and willing tears not to fall as they stung and threatened to leak, almost beyond my control.

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