Bonds of the Vampire King (Blood Fire Saga Book 7) by Bella Klaus (romantic books to read TXT) 📗

“Sybil Kenneally,” the healer growled. “Accost my patients with your shitty offers of black magic cures one more time, and I’ll curse you with a set of teeth where the sun doesn’t shine!”

Without a word, Healer Asena stomped back into her store and slammed the door.

I jogged toward the alleyway in search of Sybil. If Kresnik was siphoning off my phoenix magic, I was going to need all the help I could get—no matter how dark.

Chapter Eighteen

I rushed around the corner into an alleyway lined on both sides with dumpsters and so strewn with litter that I could barely feel the cobblestones underfoot. Roof overhangs from both buildings blocked out the light, casting the walkway in shadow. The scent of rotting meat and putrid vegetables made my eyes water, but I charged ahead.

“Sybil?” I said into the gloom.

Whoever this woman was, she was fast and was either hiding beneath one of the huge bins or had sprinted to safety.

As I continued down the alleyway, something the size of a cat darted out from the dumpster on the left and crossed my path with the most un-feline screech. My stomach dropped, and I picked up my pace.

“Sybil,” I shouted.

Up ahead was a dead end, and the passage twisted to the left, then the right in a series of maze-like alleys that made me feel like the woman was leading me into a trap. Correction: I was doing this to myself, because Healer Asena had chased Sybil away with a warning.

I glanced over my shoulder into the dark and shuddered. If I turned around now, what if I ended up missing out on something that might sever my connection with Kresnik.

A dark figure stepped out from the shadows, followed by another. My feet ground to a halt, just as heavy footsteps hurried from behind.

Whoever stood in front of me had skin too dark to reflect in the dim light, so all I saw of him were a set of glittering eyes.

“What’s a nice girl like you doing in our domain?” a deep voice purred.

The person behind me snickered.

I rolled my eyes, my skin tightening with irritation. At this rate, these idiots would make me lose my chance of winning the war against Kresnik.

“Looking for Sybil,” I said. “Which way did she go?”

“You’re in Mustela territory now,” the man growled. “And there’s only one way out.”

“Did you see where Sybil went, or not?” I snapped.

“Looks like this little girl needs a lesson not to mess with Big Felipei.”

With a weary breath, I raised my palms and pushed out my magic, illuminating the alleyway as well as the man standing in front of me. I’d been wrong about his skin. Beneath a thicket of fur that covered him from the forehead to the collar of his cloak, I caught glimpses of flesh as pale as mine.

Big Felipei stood about five ten, with a stocky build that could well have been padding. It was hard to tell beneath the voluminous fabric he’d draped over himself like the werewolf’s answer to Zorro. He gaped down at me, slack-mouthed, and said, “Fire mage.”

“Close,” I replied. “But there’s enough magic in me to burn anyone who fails to back off.”

As though they’d synchronized the movement, the trio took several steps away from where I stood.

I nodded my approval. “Thank you. Now, who can direct me to Sybil?”

“Sybil the stoat shifter, or Syphilis Syb?”

“Um… She was here a few minutes ago. Pale blue hair, faded denim?” I asked.

“Tits down to her knees?”

The men broke out into snickering laughs, reminding me of the kind of boys in the academy who used to sit around making disparaging comments about the bodies of girls who couldn’t lash out with magic.

“What?” I snarled.

Big Felipei flinched. “Thin Jim didn’t mean nothing.”

“Where can I find her?”

He raised his broad shoulders. “If she’s not plying her trade, then she’s in her hovel.”

“Show me.”

Thin Jim backed against the wall as I followed Big Felipei through the alleyway and out into a different part of town. The roads there were more like Striga, and lined with the terraces of two-story brick dwellings, which were still better than the ones available for witches of our income bracket at home.

“Fire mage, then?” he said. “Do you know Kresnik?”

“Only from the legends and what I saw on the Supernet,” I lied.

“Right.” Big Felipei nodded as though he’d already guessed the answer to my question. “I suppose you’ve been hiding yourself until they waived the execution law against your kind.”

“That’s right.”

He stared down at me and frowned. “You look familiar. Where are you from?”

“Striga.”

Thankfully, he didn’t say much else as we continued past the houses until we reached one at the very end of the road, a one-story dwelling with a crumbling roof, boarded windows, and moss growing on its stone walls.

“That’s where you’ll find Syphilis Syb.” He pointed at a door that hung at an awkward angle, looking like it had been kicked in too many times and someone had left the wood to buckle.

“Thanks.” I bit down on my lip, trying to catch a glimpse of the interior through the gaps between the door and its warped frame. “Why do they call her that?”

He raised his shoulders. “Some of the wolf shifters say she’s diseased, but she smells alright to me.”

I pursed my lips. “Then maybe you should call her by her real name?”

“No need to be so bloody judgmental,” he muttered and skulked back toward the alleyways. “It’s not like a weasel shifter can change anything.”

My eyes narrowed, and I clenched my teeth. He made me sound like I was in the wrong for suggesting he not join in with the other shifters’ bullying. That was the trouble with most shifters—they followed the person they believed was the strongest, not the kindest or fairest or the best leader.

I rapped on the door, cringing as my knuckles sank into the damp wood.

“Who’s there?” hissed a voice from inside.

“Mera,” I said.

“What do you want?” Her voice shook.

I glanced