Vivienne Von Vexx's Arc

Chapter 7 of 21

Night settled over the chapel. Vivienne crouched near the hunter, her burned arm tucked inside her cloak. The floor between them was a smear of dried blood and mud, moss crushed where she had dragged him in. Above his head, a carved figure of a praying saint watched in stone silence, ivy curling at her feet. Then Vivienne saw it. The hunter's fist clutched something against his chest. A small glass bottle on a cord, clear liquid trembling inside. She knew that shape. Holy water, or a lover's keepsake. She could not tell which. She reached with her good hand, slow, breath held. Her fingertip brushed the glass. No burn. No hiss of skin. Just cool stone-cool liquid through thin glass. She let out a shaking breath. Then the hunter's eyes opened. He saw her hood, her white hand, the bottle in her grip. His fingers closed hard over hers, pinning her there. "Who are you?" he rasped. The bottle pressed between their palms, harmless and warm now from his sleep. Vivienne did not pull away. She had her answer about the charm. She had a worse problem instead. He was awake, and he was holding her hand, and the hood was still up — but only barely.