Passion of the Vampire King (Blood Fire Saga Book 5) by Bella Klaus (best motivational books txt) 📗

I drew back, placing my hands on her shoulders. “Never mind that—”

“No.” Beatrice pulled me toward the kitchen. “I said some horrible things and acted like you were the devil herself, when it was Lazarus who had exaggerated.”

Every butterfly in my stomach writhed against its lining, making me queasy. If Beatrice was fixated on our previous altercation and not the dramatic decline of her health, it meant that she didn’t know it was happening. Her problem had to be supernatural.

Was this the work of Lazarus? I shook my head. Vampires couldn’t affect a person’s age, no matter how much of their blood they consumed. But that didn’t stop them from hiring other supernaturals to perform curses.

I followed Beatrice into the kitchen, where she unplugged a bright red kettle and brought it to the sink. After filling it halfway she placed it on the counter and turned it on. Macavity curled around her legs, seeming to have gotten over the shock of her appearance and now trying to get her attention.

Her shoulders drooped, and she bowed her head. “I’m so sorry, Mera.”

“That doesn’t matter,” I said.

Beatrice turned around, fixing me with pained eyes. “It does. Friends don’t abandon each other when they’re going through bad patches, so let me say my piece and you can tell me what’s been happening with you.”

The red-and-white kitchen spun, and I had to brace myself on the counter to stop myself from falling. This tired-looking middle-aged woman was my best friend, who wasn’t much older than me. What had descended on Beatrice and sucked out her youth?

“Lazarus used his power to make me more receptive to all things supernatural.” She rolled her eyes. “He said he didn’t want to risk me running away screaming. Can you believe that?”

“Actually, I can.” My voice trailed off. Whatever Lazarus did to her mind didn’t matter because Valentine could fix it the moment he was restored. The damage to her body was the problem. “How are you feeling?”

Her lips thinned. “I was furious at first. Now that we’ve spent time together, I’m used to it, but Lazarus didn’t give me a chance to react like normal to the Supernatural World. Just because he can tamper with a person’s mind, it doesn’t give him free rein—”

“Physically,” I said. “You look tired.”

Her brows rose, exaggerating the wrinkles on her forehead. “Apart from not being able to shake off a cold and having trouble sleeping, I’m alright. But tell me about you. What’s the latest with Valentine? Is he still you-know-what?”

I stared down at her stockinged feet, ignoring the cat rising on his back legs to rest his paws against her legs. Even without her usual heels, it looked like she might have shrunk an inch or two. This was dire. In a few more days, whatever was eating at her would complete its task, leaving Beatrice a husk. The worst part was someone had enchanted her to be unaware of the damage.

“Let’s make a cup of tea,” I said with a sigh. “There’s a few things I need to tell you.”

Sucking in a deep breath, Beatrice placed a hand over her chest. She probably thought I was going to confide in her about Valentine. “Alright. Let me open a can of tuna for Macavity.”

I carried the tray of tea things to the living room, placed it on the coffee table, and poured Beatrice a cup.

“You still haven’t commented on what happened,” she said.

“I always knew Lazarus had done something to you, so there’s no reason to apologize.”

She finally took a sip of tea and set the cup down in the saucer. “Then why do you look so troubled? Has something happened with Valentine?”

“The reason why you can’t sleep at night is supernatural.” The words tumbled from my mouth.

Beatrice rubbed the back of her neck. “Lazarus stopped sleeping with me.” She winced. “He slumbers in the bed just fine, but—”

“I know what you mean.” If I could see what was happening to Beatrice, so could he. What I wanted to know was why he was still hanging around and hadn’t taken her to a healer. I leaned forward and took her hand. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

She nodded. “About Valentine?”

“Someone’s stolen from you.”

Her brows drew together. “What are you talking about?”

“Do you remember the woman who attacked Lazarus with her fire?”

“The older one?” she asked.

“She’s twenty-seven.”

Beatrice shook her head. “She couldn’t be.”

“Because she looks older, right?” I waited for Beatrice to nod. “She got addicted to a substance and had to pay to get it synthesized by faeries.”

“Pay with what?” She leaned forward, her brows drawing together.

“Her youth,” I replied.

“Okay.” Beatrice stared at me with curious eyes, waiting for me to get to the point.

“I don’t know what’s gotten to you, but you look as though someone’s taken away your youth.”

Her mouth went slack, and she shook her head, waving off my suggestion. “That’s impossible. I’ve got a cold. Besides, I don’t know any faeries.”

I reached across the armchair and took her hands in mine. They were thin and dry and weren’t even trembling, which confirmed that she either didn’t believe what I was saying or didn’t understand. Perhaps her mind had been altered to dismiss the damage done to her body as something minor. Whoever did this to her needed to pay.

“When did you last see Lazarus?” I asked.

“You think I did that to Beatrice?” snarled a deep voice from behind.

My heart stuttered, and I leaped off the armchair. Lazarus stood in the doorway, clad in a white shirt unbuttoned to the sternum with a fitted black blazer and matching pants. Rapid angry breaths heaved from his broad chest, and he curled his gloved hands into fists.

The golden flecks in his hazel eyes burned with hatred, and he curled his lips as though I was something that had squelched under the leather soles of his Gucci shoes.

I ground my teeth. Had the Cleopatra stone hiding my power also prevented me from sensing his?