"Hold still!"

"I'm trying!"

"No, you aren't. You're shaking like a leaf!"

"Well, what do you expect? I know nothing about being a vampire!" Rayne hissed, trying and failing not to fall over as she adjusted the black and crimson corset laced over her mid-section. Though she was stuck wearing a much outdated corset, she was thankful they could find a long skirt with a slit towards the top of her thigh to help with fighting so she wouldn't trip on her face. She supposed they were lucky she found the clothes in an old, abandoned boutique at all, but she wished there were more modern outfits left behind.

But the vampires loved dressing in their era, so Rayne and Jarrah would blend in much better that way.

Jarrah was in a nice suit with his hair beautifully strewn down over his shoulders. He didn't get the suffocating corset and suffocating blouse with long, slightly puffed out sleeves or a long skirt like she did. She just hoped she'd be comfortable enough to fight in it if Jarrah's glamour wore off on them.

"You'll be fine," Jarrah reassured her. His eyes lingered on her a little longer as she fixed half of her hair up into a curly up-do. She tried her best to give off a Victorian 1870s-early 1900s hairstyle, but she wasn't so sure she was doing a great job with one hair tie and one hair pin.

"I hate this," Rayne huffed, but moved her fingers away from her curls. She looked up at him expectantly. "How does it look?"

Jarrah shifted on his feet, a dark rose unfurling across his bronze cheeks when he took her completely in. Her heart stuttered in her chest at the swirl of something intoxicating in his heated gaze. Her cherry-colored lips pulled into a sweet smile and he took in a sharp gasp of air.

"Beautiful. You look beautiful," he finally whispered, clearing his throat. He removed his hands from his pockets and if Rayne didn't know any better, she would say he was nervous. "Hold still."

His fingers waved in time with the movement of his lips. A tingling sensation burned in her mouth and tugged like an ache at her teeth as she hissed, feeling her canines extract and elongate. She opened her mouth a little too fast to relieve the pressure, but in doing so, she nicked her bottom lip in the process.

Before she could complete a full 'ow' complaint aloud, Jarrah was right there with his hands cradling her face. He tilted her head back a little further and ran his thumb along her bottom lip, healing the puncture.

"Careful," he warned, and that was when she noticed the faux fangs glittering in his own mouth. She also didn't miss the way his gaze lingered curiously, hungrily, on her full lips that were barely nudged open now as he soothed her flesh with a spell. "You'll get used to them."

Rayne's breathing stuttered, her eyes blinking up at him slowly. Him touching her wasn't good. It left her mind dizzy and her soul aching for him to keep his hands on her face with his thumb stroking her healed bottom lip. Unfortunately, and thankfully, he moved backwards, dropping his hands from her cheeks.

He cleared his throat. "We should uh—find the translator now."

That dissipated her intrigue into curiosity. "Did you figure out who it is?"

Jarrah nodded. "It took awhile, but I searched through the archives in the restricted section of the library. I went to the Vital Records to check the deaths too and from what I gathered, there's only one translator still alive who could know what the passage means."

Before the two of them had gotten changed in their vampire disguise, Jarrah had gone searching for translators in abandoned libraries while Rayne searched for vampy clothes. Luckily, she was in an area of town that was completely deserted. The French Quarter had many winding streets, so it wasn't too bad to stay hidden, but she didn't know how Jarrah had gotten so lucky. She supposed magic was a tremendous advantage, but by the way he was slowly winding down, she knew he had to save as much of his strength as he could with the toll it did to his body.

But they didn't have time for a break. They needed to find the translator now when the sun was up. Not only did they need to find the translator's location, but they had to find and retrieve the elixir during daylight as well, and escape within that same time frame. They wouldn't stand a chance any other way.

"They didn't have someone guarding the library? Or the Records?"

He grimaced. "I killed them."

Rayne knew they would have to kill a few vamps along the way, but she still cringed inwardly. "Oh."

Jarrah nodded grimly and Rayne moved the conversation onto something more productive again. She didn't want him to feel worse than he probably was already feeling.

"Where can we find her?" she asked, carefully moving her mouth so she wouldn't prick herself again.

"Somewhere hidden. Sort of like a speakeasy for witches but underground."

She frowned. "Great. Will they even let us in dressed like this?"

"I'll put another glamour on us when we get there to retract the fangs," he said. "A few vamps will be out walking around, so we need to look like this for as long as possible."

"And you're sure they'll let us in?"

He shrugged. "I think I just have to perform a spell. They shouldn't be able to tell the difference once we're inside, especially with glamour on."

Rayne wasn't so sure about that, but it was the only plan they got. So, she gestured to the area in front of her and let him take the lead to wherever the speakeasy was. Just as Jarrah said, there were very few vampires milling about doing whatever they wanted under the hours of the sun. Some ignored them, some nodded at the two of them, which made Rayne tense briefly before Jarrah was quick to reassure her by wrapping his hand around hers. She almost jumped at the contact, though the strength of his large hand was oddly reassuring as he gave her fingers a squeeze.

"Slow your heartbeat," he whispered faintly. "I can't mask it if it's beating too fast."

Rayne shot him a look and did her best to control the organ.

Though it wasn't surprising, it still gave Rayne the creeps that they were walking up to an old crypt in the back of a graveyard. Jarrah did his glamour spell, just as he said he would, and much to her relief, her teeth were back to normal. He whispered to her that the glamour would make them look different to the witches' eye so their costumes wouldn't look like how it did to them. It wouldn't last longer than an hour, but they hoped that was all they needed it for.

"I hope you're right about this," she whispered, clinging to the back of him.

"So am I," he said, honestly. She shot him an incredulous look.

"Hey, don't agree with me. You're supposed to be the confident one!"

"Well, it's not like I've done this before," he hissed as they stopped in front of the crypt. The rusted tomb towered over the two of them by a solid five feet and the gate across the entrance of a stone made door was covered in what looked like mildew. A phrase in latin was engraved along the top of the entrance.

A chill climbed over Rayne's shoulders and she shuddered, clutching Jarrah's hand tighter in hers. She hated graveyards and crypts and dead things and fuck, she just wanted to get the hell out of there. Being stuck in a speakeasy full of witches did not sound the least bit fun.

"What's her name?" Rayne asked, quietly.

"Marguerite," he murmured, releasing her hand. "Okay, I need to focus."

"I'm guessing you're performing whatever's in Latin up there?"

"Yes," he agreed. Before she could ask anymore obvious questions, Jarrah started chanting under his breath, his hands moving together to create what looked like a swirling ball of magic. Rayne watched on in fascination as his hands trembled and his eyebrows furrowed to contiain the energy of such a spell in one small space between his hands. A wail of a woman's final moments screeched from the bundle of magic, causing her eyes to widen as a ghostly figure emerged from between his palms.

The figure turned out to be a woman. A woman who had a sapphire aura around her withering upper body, lingering on high cheekbones, full lips, and a scarf wrapped around her head to shield the coils underneath. Tears glistened as bright as stars down the girl's smooth brown cheeks and Rayne's heart broke at the sight of two puncture wounds on her neck. A branded R was burned into her chest just below her collarbone and though she was clearly deceased, she couldn't have been much older than them. Existing long before their time in a land of chains and anguish.

Rayne's heart lurched for the girl. Unable to help herself, she reached a hesitant hand towards the ghostly woman, eager to bring her comfort in some way. The figure watched quietly and allowed Rayne to touch a tear that felt as non-existent as a brush of air as a pitiful attempt to wipe it away, before faintly moving down and touching the terrible letter. Much to Rayne's amazement, the letter dissappeared from her skin right below her fingertips, followed by the vampire bite marks from her throat as well.

The ghostly woman relaxed as Rayne moved back and offered a beautiful grin that blinded all those in sight of it, and highlighted everything enchanting about her. The woman nodded once at her and Jarrah with an expression that could only be described as gratitude, before getting engulfed by a blinding ray of white light that blossomed out from the center of her chest. Rayne didn't even have enough time to block out the light, so she watched the girl close her eyes and vanish into thin air right before them.

The ball of magic from Jarrah's hands disappeared, along with the cease of his chanting. There was perhaps a second or two of silence before the gate around the crypt groaned open and the large stone that was once closed, now opened inwards into the dark depths of whatever awaited beyond. It was very eerie, but Rayne was too caught up in what had just happened to really focus on it. She turned to look over at Jarrah, her heart pounding wildly in her chest.

"What was that?" she finally whispered, breaking the silence. Jarrah swallowed.

"The witches chose a conjuring spell to get in. A spell only a person with magic can do," Jarrah breathed shakily, wiping his hands on his pants. His face was paler than before, possibly from using so much magic in a short amount of time, and though he seemed a little shaken, there was something different in his eyes. He was starstruck at what he had just done, in awe of something otherworldly. "Every time a conjuring spell is made, a soul trapped from this land is freed. When the damned murders someone on their sacred soil, those victims are left here for years, trapped, until someone can release them."

"Release," she repeated, her voice soft. "You released her."

Jarrah opened and closed his mouth a few times. After a second, a wide, tearful grin stretched across his face and something about his wow's expression made him look all the more beautiful. She'd never seen him look so vulnerable and elated before. "She's free."

Rayne's heart swelled. "How did you know the spell?"

"I didn't," he said, blinking. "The spell is what you see above you in Latin. I just had to repeat it."

"What does it mean?" she wondered, glancing back up at the stone.

Jarrah didn't have to look up again to know what the Latin saying was, word for word. "To live is to release. For one to move forward, you must help another find peace."

Rayne's chest warmed at that. Jarrah grabbed her hand, igniting another round of warm sparks glowing throughout her body, and tugged her forward behind him. Together, they stepped into a space unknown to them as they get one step closer to finding the lost elixir.