Chapter 25: Wardrobe of the Undying
Corven and Rose stepped into the tailor shop—and immediately, any expectation of elegance died a quick, unceremonious death.
The space was small, cramped even, with barely enough room to breathe let alone browse. Clothes littered the floor in tangled piles or hung haphazardly from rusted hooks above, swaying gently with each draft that snuck through unseen cracks in the walls. The air carried a thick blend of fabric dust, old smoke, and something vaguely metallic—blood, perhaps, or just imagination.
Cleanliness was debatable. Parts of the shop looked serviceable, lived-in in a rustic way... while others bordered on outright squalor.
"Fresh bloods?" drawled a voice from behind the counter.
The vampire responsible lounged lazily in a cracked leather chair, one leg slung over the other as he puffed calmly from a blackened pipe. His crimson eyes barely lifted as he spoke.
"Yeah," Rose replied, eyeing him warily. "Leywin recommended us here."
"I see..." the man groaned as he stood, the motion slow, deliberate—and punctuated by the audible pop of stiff joints cracking one by one.
He shuffled over to a nearby drawer, rummaged through it, then grabbed a dull red gemstone about the size of a plum. Without ceremony, he wiped it clean against the sleeve of his ragged coat.
Then, with a flick of the wrist, he tossed it toward them.
"That’s it," he said, collapsing back into his chair like the act had winded him. "And since that brat led you here, it’s on the house."