Grey stopped in front of a dark red door. It was ornately carved with roses and vines. The thorns looked deadly sharp and dripped a dark red liquid that drew my gaze. “Is that blood?”
“The blood of everyone who has requested services. Including ours.” He raised a hand and pierced his thumb on a thorn that wasn’t dripping. Dark blood welled, and he removed his hand. The gleaming droplet hung suspended, not falling.
I did the same, wincing slightly at the little pinch of pain. When I removed my hand, my blood hung immobile as well. Magic swirled around the door, a dark mist that traveled up the front of the three-story building. It was Tudor, like the rest, but the wooden beams surrounded red plaster instead of the usual grayish white, giving the place an ominous feel.
A moment later, a tiny hatch in the main door opened. It was about waist level, and a withered hand appeared, holding a golden goblet. Black liquid swirled within, and ornate golden rings decorated the fingers on the hand. Dark red talons tipped each withered finger, and I flashed Grey a startled look.
“What?” I mouthed.
“You are worthy.” The creaky voice intoned from behind the door, cutting off any response he might have given. “Now make your offering.”
Grey raised his thumb to his mouth and pierced with a fang, then held his hand over the cup. The wound bled freely, and he allowed a thin stream to drip into the cup.
When he finished, I raised my hand, assuming I had to go, too.
He shook his head, and I lowered my hand.
“Her, too,” the voice said.
“It is unnecessary,” he said. “I have made the offering.”
“Two wi
sh for services, two will make the offering.” The voice was firm despite its obvious age and the weakness of the speaker. The withered hand trembled as it held the glass.
“It’s fine.” I raised my hand and drew my own small knife, cutting my finger, feeling the pain pinch as the blood welled. I let it pour over the cup, dripping into the dark liquid. Only a few drops had fallen when Grey gripped my arm and withdrew it. “That’s enough.”
I pressed my thumb to the cut, staunching the flow.
The hand withdrew, and the little door slammed shut. A few moments passed, and I looked up at Grey, catching sight of something unidentifiable in his eyes. “What?”
“Would that I could heal you.” There was a slight wistfulness to his voice.
How the hell was I supposed to not fall for a guy like this?
Impossible.
“You’ll be better soon enough, your healing abilities returned.” I stared at the closed door, waiting. “What’s happening?”
“I’m not sure you want to know.”
“I do.”
Before he could answer, the main door creaked open, revealing a stunningly beautiful woman. Brilliant red hair fell down her back, and blinding green eyes glittered with life. She wore a black robe trimmed in what looked like diamonds, and it swayed around her as if blown by an impossible wind that no one else could feel.
I blinked, surprised.
Where had the crone gone? There was no way she was the same person who had stuck the goblet out of the tiny hatch.
And yet, she was holding it. Her fingers were tipped with scarlet nails and the same golden rings glinted on her fingers. Even her lips were gleaming a vibrant red. At first, I’d taken it to be lipstick.
But no, it was blood.
My blood.
This woman had drunk our blood and grown young again.
Wow.