The Blood Ruby (The Arcane Artifacts #2)

Chapter 15 - Shopping

The bed beneath me was plush fabric, not cold metal. I was surrounded by soft lighting, not harsh fluorescents. The air was warm, comfortable, not cold and sterile. I was...me. Lily Winifred Shaw. I was alive. Each breath was painless, deep, rich. A gift.

Had it been a dream? Or was this the dream? A desire so desperate, it had bled into my fitful sleep to stave off the pain? I almost didn't know.

I'd seen too much in my mind. Too much blood, fangs, feeding, sex, death. I'd made others hurt. I'd felt myself hurt, relived my pain. So much pain. Torture. My head wasn't mine anymore—or had rebelled against me. There were things in my mind, thoughts, memories that didn't belong there. Implanted like a virus. Frightening. Confusing. Strange.

I spooned another bite of chicken noodle soup into my mouth. Zola had offered to feed it to me, but I was desperate to maintain what little dignity remained. Instead, she sat beside me, rubbing my back, filling the silence with her calming voice. I needed that—more than I would admit—because the silence was where my memories lived.

"I...I don't think I can eat any more." I stared into the bowl, still only half empty.

I'd been with the witches for three days. Zola had kept the details of my "rescue" to a bare minimum. She'd promised to tell me everything that had happened once I was "better." Including why I had memories in my mind that weren't mine. They belonged to...to...I couldn't say his name. Could barely think it without hurting. But I knew they were his.

"Just a few more bites, darling," Zola cooed. She fussed. I let her, too numb to say anything, do anything. "Vittorio spent hours making this. You should have seen him. I've never seen him so focused on making something perfect. The perfect chicken noodle soup."

"Oh..." was all I could manage. Had Vittorio cared that much? I wanted to feel something, feel special, but instead...I didn't feel much at all. It's like the witches had turned everything I was into pain, stolen it, and left something empty behind.

"Oh, darling. He's been beside himself!"

"He...he has?" I pushed through my awful memories, back to that day I'd been abandoned by the vampires. The sight of Vittorio in the entry hall—he hadn't even looked at me. He certainly hadn't looked upset. Not in the slightest. Had it been...an act?

"He cares for you," Zola said, as if reading my mind. I wanted to believe her. "The moment you returned, he set about chopping and dicing. He made an entire pot of this stuff. Refused to cook anything for anyone else. Told Laurent"—my muscles jerked at the sound of his name—"that he could eat soup, or nothing."

"Oh," I said again. I sniffed, the sound watery. Why would Vittorio care? There was no reason for him to. Zola rubbed my back again.

Still, I looked down at the soup and bread, and took a few more bites. I dipped a chunk of soft sourdough into the broth, chewed, and swallowed. My stomach squirmed, already full. "You'll really let me talk to Ania?"

"Yes. I meant what I said, darling. Whatever you want, I will see that you get it."

I pressed my arms tight to my body. She'd made a lot of promises since my waking up. That she'd let me see Ania, that she'd make sure I started the Ph.D program in the fall, that she'd let me go home, have my life back, if I wanted. I'd listened intently to every word. I wasn't naive enough to believe her.

And yet...

Zola's gaze was entirely sincere. "I'm ready to call her," I said, handing her my tray. She set it aside and handed me her phone. I eyed her for a moment, waiting for her to snatch it back. She simply gazed openly at me. I knew Ania's number by heart—we'd both memorized them in case our phones ever got stolen. I pulled my knees up to my chin beneath the blankets. I hadn't moved since Zola had come—didn't have the courage to leave the bed. I clenched the phone to my ear as it began to ring.