Chapter 215: Old Souls.
The midnight air in the capital had teeth—sharp, unforgiving, slicing straight through fabric to bare skin.
Celestine walked beside me wrapped in my coat, collar turned up against her jaw, the too-long sleeves swallowing her hands. Our footsteps echoed in crisp, lonely rhythm down streets that had emptied completely, surrendering to the night. No distant traffic. No voices. Just the two of us and the faint brush of the coat between our arms with every step.
We weren’t holding hands. We didn’t need to.
"This is insane," she said, a warm, disbelieving laugh breaking free. "I’m walking with the man I was supposed to kill the first night I met him."
"Yeah," I answered, breath fogging. "I’ve lived long enough to know plans are just pretty lies we tell ourselves."
She glanced sideways at me, a long, searching look that lingered on my profile. "You remind me of someone. You really do."
"Who?"
"I don’t know yet." Her breath clouded visibly in the cold. "That’s what’s bothering me."
"So where are we going?" I asked.
"A place I had my first date inside the walls," she said softly. "It was also my last."
"Why?"
"He was mortal." The memory dragged across her face like a shadow. She swallowed once. "That’s when I learned it doesn’t work."
"Should I guess what happened?" I sensed her drifting into dangerous water.
"Go on then."
"I think you put your teeth in him," I said. "Drained him dry."
That landed. She bumped her shoulder hard into mine, laughing outright. "You’re an idiot."
"Maybe."
"And what makes you think it was a him?" Her eyes glinted with wicked delight as she watched me process it.
I stopped dead on the pavement. She stopped too, turning to face me, barely containing her grin.
"Were you—?"
"No." Laughter spilled out of her, bright and unguarded. "He was a man. I just wanted to see your face."
I started walking again. She fell back into step beside me, still chuckling.
"But there is something about you," she said after a moment, voice quieter. "Something that makes me feel... safe. I can’t explain it."
"You’re not the first girl to tell me that," I said lightly.
She smiled, reached up without thinking, and brushed the corner of my eye with one cool fingertip, nail grazing my skin with feather-light precision.
"Tell me more about the date," I said, giving her the space to retreat if she needed it.
[You’re getting better at this. Actually, you’re getting good.]
Just watch and learn.
"I didn’t bite him," Celestine said, composing herself. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, fingers lingering a second too long. "He got into a motor accident after we said goodnight. He died."
"I’m sorry."
"It was a long time ago." Her voice steadied, but her shoulders stayed tense. "That’s when I understood—a heart is still a heart. Vampire or human. It still needs protecting."
"Yeah."
We passed under a streetlamp. Warm light washed over her face, catching the faint gleam of the green diamond still on her finger.
"How old are you?" she asked.
"Twenty."
She studied me for several long heartbeats, something unreadable flickering behind her eyes. "You have an old soul. I can sense it."
"I don’t know what that means," I said. "We’ve been walking thirty minutes. Where exactly are you taking me?"
She laughed again, the sound ringing down the empty street. "We’re close."
"Close?" I shot her a look. "You’re a vampire. First night we met, you had me in the air in seconds. Why don’t you just carry me there?"
She lost it—full, genuine laughter that bent her slightly forward, one hand pressed to her chest as she wiped at the corner of her eye. "Shut up," she managed, still chuckling.
She pointed ahead. "It’s right there."
A small café glowed behind fogged glass, warm golden light spilling onto the sidewalk like a secret.
The moment we stepped inside, the world changed. The biting cold vanished. Air thickened with the rich, comforting scent of old wood, fresh coffee, and something faintly sweet. The quiet felt deliberate—almost reverent. Only four tables. No other customers.
A woman appeared in the inner doorway. Red hair shot through with silver. Long black dress. Early fifties. A face that had witnessed decades and had long since stopped being surprised.
Her eyes narrowed the instant they found Celestine.
We approached. Celestine’s fingers brushed my arm lightly, a silent stay-close signal.
"Celestine," the woman said, tasting the name like an old rumor. "I didn’t think I’d see you again."
Celestine offered a small nod. "Mistel. An old friend." She turned slightly. "This is Abram."
Mistel’s gaze slid to me—slow, thorough, taking inventory of every detail: my posture, my hands, the way I stood half a step in front of Celestine. "A good friend," Celestine added.
"A good friend," Mistel repeated, tone dry as autumn leaves. "Nice to meet you, Abram."
"You too."
Celestine took my hand—cool fingers threading through mine—and steered me past Mistel. "We’re not here for trouble," she said quietly.
"Of course not," Mistel replied behind us, voice laced with skepticism.
The café was empty, wrapped in intimate quiet. Celestine led me to a corner table bathed in low lamplight. I pulled her chair out. She paused mid-step, visibly startled by the gesture, then sat with graceful composure. I took the seat opposite.
A date with a Vale vampire. The thought hit me again. The plains had taught me how to survive a lot of things. This wasn’t one of them.
"How do you like it?" she asked, eyes meeting mine across the small table.
"It’s good," I said, letting my gaze drift over the warm wooden walls, the soft glow, the way the entire place felt carved out of the city’s indifference.
A door at the back opened.
Electric white hair. Striking blue eyes. A face I knew instantly.
Mira Kim.
The only person outside the harem who knew I was a charger. The girl who had stood in Mary Stam’s apartment and kept my secret without a word. Last time I’d seen her, she was supposed to be in her father’s safe house.
Our eyes locked across the quiet café.
A small, knowing grin curved her lips.
Of course, I thought. Of course it’s Mira.
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