12
SILAS
We sit in the dining room, Kain and Era on one side of the table, Draynor and me at the other, Markula stalking around Era’s chair like a hungry tiger seeking his next meal.
The glass is in the middle of the table. It glitters like garnet, like rubies — like stained glass.
Like blood — her blood.
We can all smell it, that much is obvious. None of us are trying to hide our teeth now, not the way we sometimes do around her. While she isn’t frightened of us, I don’t intend to give her any nightmare fodder, especially since we know her mother was brutally murdered in front of her by our kind.
Perhaps soon, this concern will be a thing of the past. If Era can get to the bottom of why we can’t turn her … maybe we can find a way to make her one of us. Maybe we can end this.
But Er
