Book 4: No Favors

Michael

Emelda silently returns to the kitchen with her tray of tonics and potions and sets them on the counter, wordlessly scribbling doses in the black leather notebook she’s been carrying around in her pocket since the night I met the witch-turned-vampire seven years ago. 

I lean against the counter, flexing my left hand and curling it into a fist over, and over, wearing a thick bandage around my wrist. 

Emelda glances at me with a sigh before dropping her gaze back to her notebook. “You’re wasting your time and energy, Michael.”

I tuck my hand behind my back on impulse. It’s not like this is some big secret. Emelda found me in the girl’s room this morning anyway, shaking me awake and hissing curses at me all the way down the hallway when I’d retreated to my own rooms. 

“She needed it. She was cold as ice and withering.”

“She’s a vampire,” she sighs with frustration lacing each word. “That’s what we’re supposed t