The Damned (The Beautiful #2)(47)

“It’s because I never go.” There is no purpose in lying to her. Any discomfort I may feel is my own fault.

“Why?”

I do not answer.

“Philomène’s forty-seventh birthday is in a few months. You will go with me this year.” She pauses. “Your mother liked gardenias. Bring them with you.”

I nod. “I promise I will.”

“Good. Promises mean something to his kind.” She nods to Arjun. “I expect the halfling to hold you to it. Now that is done, and we won’t speak of it again.”

The nutty smell of browned butter and flour suffuses the air. Though mortal food holds little appeal for me, I cannot help but appreciate the fragrance. The memories it brings. As I look around, my gaze falls on the row of ancient books stacked above the pans along the wall.

A thought takes shape in my mind. “Tía Valeria?” I ask.

“Yes?”

“Have you ever read about a warlock or a witch named Sunan?” Beside me, I hear Arjun groan.

She pauses in her stirring, her expression wary. “Why do you ask?”

I push my lips forward, mulling my response while I glare at Arjun. “It’s a name I’ve come across in my reading recently.”

“Ay, you’re an awful mentiroso.” Valeria snorts. “You need to learn to lie better.”

“I said the same thing,” Arjun says. “The damned snake is a better liar than he is.”

They share a laugh while I scowl at them.

“What do you really wish to know, Sébas?” Valeria asks. “Are you asking about who Sunan is or what he can do?”

He. Sunan is a man. That is a detail I did not have prior to this evening.

“Does he even exist?” I press.

Valeria mixes the trinity into the roux and continues stirring. “As far as I know, he lives deep in the ice forests of the Sylvan Wyld, where he has resided for eight hundred years.”

“And”—I struggle to contain my eagerness—“what kind of magic can Sunan perform?”

Sympathy ripples across Valeria’s face. “You are asking if he can unmake you.”

It’s useless for me to deny it. I nod once.

“Why do you wish to be unmade?” she asks. “Is it for your benefit, or for the benefit of someone else? And don’t lie to me, boy. I will know.”

I want to lie, nonetheless. But I want to know the truth more. “It’s both,” I admit. “I lost someone I loved when I became a vampire.”

“Do you fear being alone?”

“No.” I think of the things Kassamir said to me that night at Jacques’. “I fear a life without meaning.”

“You think this Sunan will help you find it?”

“I . . . don’t know,” I answer truthfully. “But if there is even a chance to regain a piece of my humanity, I believe I have to try.”

She hums in understanding. “I do not know if Sunan of the Wyld still exists or if the tales about his power to unmake immortals are true. Alas, you must take your request to him in person. He has not crossed a portal into the human world for more than half a century.”

My excitement vanishes like the flame of a doused candle. “Vampires are forbidden from using a tare like that to enter the Winter Court of the Sylvan Wyld.”

“They are,” Valeria agrees. “But there is no such law against traveling to the Summer Court of the Vale.” She pauses for effect. “And what you do once you’ve entered the fey realm is up to you. Enough power and influence—enough sway with those in control—can get a vampire far, I’m told.”

“And how would you suggest I go about such an endeavor?”

Valeria looks at Arjun. “That is a better question for your friend, the Shining Lord of the Vale.”

Arjun’s hazel eyes are as round as those of an owl. “You’re both daft. I can’t bring a bloody vampire into the Summer Court.”

“You’ve traveled between the worlds, haven’t you?” Valeria asks. “You know which tares will take you to the Sylvan Vale?”

“Yes.” He hesitates. “But it would be the height of foolishness for me to accompany a vampire.”

“I am not their enemy,” I say. “I have no desire to cause those in the Vale any trouble.”

Arjun’s laughter is dark and dry. “You are Nicodemus Saint Germain’s direct descendant. It was your family who led the charge against the enchantresses of the Vale. They’ll smell you the second you cross through the tare.”

My mind sifts through other possibilities. “What if I made them a promise? Offered them something of value?”

“You sound like your uncle.” Arjun’s cheeks hollow. “And not one of you has the first understanding of the Sylvan Vale. You think vampires are cruel? That wolves are quick to start a fight? At least you know who your enemies are, old chap. My mother is a huntress. One of the chosen few in the gentry who serves the Lady of the Vale directly. The Sylvan Vale is the kind of place where a smiling water nymph will offer you a fistful of gold with one hand and slice open your throat with the other. Where a hob will feed you a crust of bread that turns you into dust at their feet . . . upon which they will then delightedly dance.”