The Vesper Creed

Chapter 10

Aizere's Point of View

Lilith stood up and began to sift through the rack of gowns with a new sense of purpose. She pushed aside the blues and the golds until her hand stopped on a dress that seemed to glow even in the shadows of the boutique. She pulled it out, and I caught my breath.

It was a deep, blood-red silk gown. The fabric was heavy and rich, with a low-cut back and a skirt that pooled on the floor like a circle of fire.

"Try this one," Lilith said, her eyes brightening. "It's a bold color, Aizere, but it's perfect for you. With your hair and your skin, you'll be the only person anyone sees when you walk into that room."

I took the dress from her and stepped further into the fitting room. The silk was cool as it slid over my skin, and as soon as I zipped it up and stepped in front of the mirror, I knew she was right. I looked different, not like the girl who was lost and confused, but like someone who had a place in this town. I checked my wrist under the bright lights, but the skin was clear. There was no sign of a mark or a tattoo, just the pale reflection of the red silk.

I stepped out, and Lilith let out a low whistle. "Okay, we are definitely getting that. You look incredible."

"Thanks, Lilith," I said, already starting to pull the zipper down so I could change back into my regular clothes. "But I actually have some things I need to take care of before I go home. Do you mind if we wrap this up?"

"Of course not! We got the dress, that's the hard part," she laughed, her shield spell having already faded away.

We paid for the gown, and as we walked out into the cool air of the sidewalk, I felt a strange sense of urgency. I had told Lilith I was going home, but I wasn't. Victoria had told me that the town had secrets and that my family was at the center of them. If the answers were in my memories, and my memories were locked away, I needed to find another way to look.

"I'll see you at school tomorrow?" Lilith asked as she headed toward her car.

"Definitely," I called back.

I waited until her car turned the corner before I started walking in the opposite direction. I knew there was an old bookstore a few blocks away that specialized in local history. If Caxwell had secrets that went back hundreds of years, they had to be written down somewhere. I needed a history book, not the kind they gave us in school, but something older. Something that could explain why Ezrain and his family weren't "just human" and why I was the only one who could see the truth on their skin.

I pulled my jacket tighter against the wind, my mind already racing with what I might find in the dusty aisles of the shop. I didn't tell Lilith where I was going; it wasn't that I didn't trust her, but this felt like a path I had to walk alone.

The heavy boutique bag thumping against my leg felt like a lead weight as I navigated the winding sidewalks of downtown Caxwell. I stayed in the shadows of the storefronts until I was certain Lilith's car had turned the corner and disappeared. I felt a small pang of guilt for lying to her especially after she had trusted me with the truth about her own heritage but this was a journey I had to take in silence. Victoria's words about the "wall in my mind" haunted me. If I was going to break that wall, I needed facts, and I hoped to find them in the dusty aisles of a bookstore.

I moved away from the bright, modern part of town toward the older district, where the buildings were made of dark brick and the alleyways were narrow and damp. Tucked between a closed clock shop and an old bakery was a place called The Archive. It didn't have a flashy sign, just the name etched into the glass of the door in fading gold letters that looked like they hadn't been polished in decades.

The bell chimed with a low, heavy tone as I pushed inside. The air was thick and still, smelling of vanilla, old paper, and a hint of woodsmoke. It was the kind of place where the silence felt like a physical thing pressing against your ears. An elderly man with thick glasses was hunched over a desk at the back, but he didn't look up as I moved toward the tall, cramped shelves.

I bypassed the bestsellers and the travel guides, heading straight for the very back corner where the light was dim and the dust motes danced in the air. A wooden sign hung crookedly from the ceiling: Caxwell History & Local Lore.

My fingers trailed over the spines of the books, feeling the rough texture of leather and the coldness of old cloth. I looked through books about the early settlers, the great forest fire of 1920, and the history of the local police force. None of them felt right. They were the "official" stories—the ones my dad would know. I needed the stories that weren't meant to be told.

I reached the very end of the shelf, where the books were so old they didn't even have titles on their spines. I pulled out a thin, black volume that was wedged tightly between two heavy ledgers. The cover was cold, and as I turned it toward the light of a nearby lamp, my heart stopped.

Embossed on the dark leather, almost invisible unless you held it at just the right angle, was a crescent moon wrapped in a thorny rose.

My breath hitched. I opened the book with shaking hands. The pages were yellow and brittle, covered in elegant, handwritten ink. It wasn't a history book; it was a record. As I flipped through the pages, I saw names that I recognized from school.

Mikaelson. Pierce. Blood. Black.

And Lightwood...

The book described them as ancient bloodlines, beings who were not human, tasked with standing between this world and the dark shadows that lived in the deepest parts of the Washington woods. They were the "Protectors," the shield that kept the town safe from things that crawled in the dark. I scanned the pages desperately, looking for my own name. I looked for Forbes in the lists of witches, protectors, or legends.

But as I reached the end of the records, I found the Forbes name only in the human registry. Births, deaths, sheriffs, and shopkeepers. According to every record in this book, the Forbes family was exactly what my father said we were: humans. Just people. Nothing more.

A cold breeze hit the back of my neck, even though the bookstore door hadn't opened. I realized then that I wasn't alone in the aisle.

I turned around slowly, clutching the book to my chest. Standing at the end of the shelf was a man I didn't recognize. He was tall and wore a sharp, dark suit that looked far too expensive for a small town like Caxwell. He stood perfectly still, his hands folded in front of him. But it was his eyes that made me want to scream they were a piercing, metallic silver, just like Ezrain's.

"That is a very private record, " he said. His voice was smooth and cold, like a stone at the bottom of a river. "It contains the history of the Protectors, those who hold back the shadows so that people like you can sleep peacefully at night."

"If my family is just human," I said, my voice trembling as I looked down at the book, "then why can I see the mark? Why did Victoria say I was one of you?"

The man smiled, but it was a hollow, chilling expression. "That is the question, isn't it? A simple human girl from a simple human family, yet you see through the veil as if it isn't there. You are a glitch in the design, Aizere Forbes. A human who knows too much."

He took a slow step forward, his eyes locking onto mine. "Give me the book. A human mind isn't built to hold these truths. It will only break you further."

"No," I said, backing away until my shoulders hit the shelf. "I'm tired of being the only one who doesn't know what's going on."

Just as he reached out a pale hand to take the volume, a fierce, high-pitched hiss sounded from the front of the shop. I glanced toward the window and saw Snow.

The white cat was perched on the ledge outside, her fur standing on end and her eyes glowing with an intense, golden light. She bared her teeth at the man through the glass, a low growl vibrating the windowpane.

The man froze, his gaze shifting to the cat. His lip curled in a sneer. "It seems the Mikaelson boy is more protective of his 'pet' than I thought. He even lets it wander when he's away."

He looked back at me, the cold pressure in the air slowly lifting. "Keep your book, human. But remember: being able to see the shadows doesn't mean you are strong enough to survive them. Without power of your own, you are nothing but prey."

With a flick of his coat, he turned and vanished into the shadows of the foyer. By the time I reached the end of the aisle, the bell chimed, and the shop was empty. I stood there, trembling, clutching the book that told me I was nothing special even though my eyes were telling me a completely different story.