Dark Craving: A Watchers Novella by Veronica Wolff Page A

seeming to fight it for a moment, but then, with a courtly nod of concession, he returns to his desk. He begins to shuffle his papers into neat stacks, as though I’ve merely interrupted his work rather than breaking protocol in the most radical of ways. “Did Hugo help you refine that little trick?” he asks finally. “You still haven’t told me what he thinks to accomplish here.” He adds under his breath, “Only a coward sends a child to do his business.”
    “I’m the one asking questions here.” It’s not an answer, but I need to continue to play along with his suspicions. I’ll eventually run out of scrolls to burn, but if Dagursson thinks I have knowledge of treachery within the Vampire Directorate, maybe that’ll be enough to get him talking. “I’d like some information.”
    “What information could you need or understand?” His voice reeks of condescension. “You’re a child.”
    “Yeah, a child with a lighter.” I flick it again and enjoy seeing him flinch. He didn’t expect this. He thinks I fear him. He’s wrong. “ Now are you ready?”
    “You think fire will make me speak?”
    “No.” I walk toward him. I dig deep now, deeper even than before. I touch his shoulder and feel a burst of power, like a magnet jumping to meet its opposite pole. “I think I’ll make you speak.”
    He hisses in a breath, and it feels like triumph.
    I put the lighter down. “Put your hands behind your back.” I slide the urumi from around my waist, and his eyes light with recognition.
    “Charlotte’s weapon.” His smile is overly familiar.
    “Don’t say her name,” I snap.
    He watches, utterly still, as I wrap the coiled blade around his chest. It doesn’t exactly tie him to the chair, but if he tried to move, he’d certainly sever something vital. “Are you going to torture me, boy?” His voice is bland, matter-of-fact.
    “Nah.” I stroll around him. “You’d probably enjoy that, you old freak.”
    “It stands to reason, I suppose.” He shrugs, as if we’re debating music theory instead of sadism. “Hugo would be here himself if that were the intention. He’s not one to miss such spectacle.”
    “I could make this painless, Alrik. You just need to answer one question.” When I reach the front of the chair again, I lean down, staring him in the face. This close, his skin is an intricate map of creases and hollows. He is ancient…and soon he’ll be dead. “Who is this family of mine, and where do they live?”
    “Ahhhh.” He emits a slow sigh, his face parting into a lizard’s smile. “I see what this is all about.”
    “No tricks. No chatting. Let’s just get on with it, shall we?” I extend my arms, revealing the homemade stakes concealed under the sleeves of my sweater. I remove one and touch it just over his heart. “I brought more than just a lighter.”
    “An old-fashioned stake. How quaint. You made that?” He peers up and meets my blank expression. “Clever boy. I warn you, though. You must be exact. Even with your powers, such a stake will do no good unless it’s placed with absolute precision. Can you do that? Can you find my heart with absolute precision?”
    “We could find out right now,” I say, pressing harder. “Or you can play nice and tell me where my family is.”
    “You modern children, you think you can have what you want the moment you want it.”
    I press the stake deeper, until I feel the bone beneath his skin. “So you do know how to find them.”
    “I know where one family member is.” The sly, leering quirk to his mouth tells me he speaks the truth. “You can read it on your family’s scroll.” He purses his lips as if he’s trying to hide a smirk. “Didn’t you know? You have a family scroll. I hope you didn’t burn it. What delicious irony that would be.”
    “Shut up.” I glance back and scan the table, but the rolls and rolls of paper all look the same. “Which one is it?”
    “Aren’t they lovely?” he says in a marveling