Semua Bab A Vampiric Kiss : Bab 81 - Bab 86

82Sienna. I didn’t light the candles the usual way. Tonight, they needed to burn longer and steadier, so I whispered them awake, low and steady, watching the flames catch one by one across the circle in my garden.The sun had set an hour ago, and Willow Creek had gone soft and quiet in that way it always did before a storm, and not the weathered kind but the one of pressure.Magic has a way of building under your skin, like a coming fever. And lately, I’d felt it creeping in again, sharp under the surface, humming behind every breath. I couldn’t ignore it anymore.Which is why I’d sent two letters. One to Dalia. One to Margo.They were the last two witches in the region I still trusted. And even then, trust was a fragile word. Dalia brewed dreams for a living and never spoke in straight lines. Margo had banished her own sister. We weren’t exactly a cheery bunch, but they came.That’s how you know someone still cares: when they show up.“You’ve kept the place neat,” Margo said, stepp

84IsaacI’ve always been good at slipping into the background.You get used to it, being second. Second born. Second choice. Second to rise, second to speak, second to be heard. I used to think it didn’t bother me. I told myself I liked it that way. It was quieter and simpler.But lately, with Edward breathing down our necks and Noah unraveling in slow, sharp pieces, I’ve started thinking about what it means to be second, and what happens when the first falls.The apothecary bell jingled as I pushed open the door. Sienna didn’t look up from the shelf she was rearranging. Dried herbs. Something floral and bitter in the air.“You again,” she said flatly.“You sound thrilled.”“I’m vibrating with joy. What do you want?”I stepped further in, holding something behind my back. “I brought you a gift.”She squinted suspiciously. “If it’s another dead animal, I’m lighting you on fire.”“Lesson learned,” I muttered, then revealed the flower. A single flamepetal, its orange-red glow still fain

86Sienna. I found Isaac in the back of the apothecary just after dusk. He was fiddling with a jar of nightshade, the way he always does when he’s nervous, or thinking too much. I caught him before he saw me.“Pop quiz,” I said, leaning against the counter.He looked up, startled, and yanked his hand back. A drop of clear liquid landed on the wooden surface.“Nice recovery,” I said.He blinked. “Sorry.”“Are we doing this again?” I asked, voice low.He swallowed. “That fast, huh?”I folded my arms. “Spark isn’t always a fast burn. Sometimes it smolders.”He picked up the jar. “Smolder, huh?”I shrugged. “That’s not a bad start.”He set the jar down carefully. “Tea?”I shook my head. “Wine, maybe.”He laughed softly. “Make it two.”I pulled half a bottle from behind the counter. Not fancy, but enough for tonight.***We met later in the forest, two hours after sun dropped. That’s where we always sort out meaning, whether it’s good, bad, or just meaningless.He was waiting at our usual