Lysander’s hardened gaze and harsh words made him hesitate. Although he looked close to Avrum’s age of one and twenty, Lysander was one of the oldest creatures to live under Lord Henri. Even after a year of knowing him, Avrum knew nothing of his past, and Lysander seemed determined to keep it that way.
The music ceased and Avrum looked at the top of the stairs again. Two human male servants opened the doors, and a wave of apprehension went down his spine. A current of energy shot through the invisible tie he and his maker shared. Henri was coming.
Avrum bowed low, excitement causing his normally settled heart to beat wild in his chest. Around him, he could feel the others in the room do the same. Lysander only dipped his head.
His gaze lifting, Avrum saw Lord Henri appear. He wore a coal suit jacket with a silver vest around his tall, slender frame. The white shirt underneath remained unbuttoned at the neck, exposing more of his smooth pale skin. His black hair fell neatly over one arched brow and rested on his pulled-back shoulders. His small, dark eyes looked over his guests, and he gestured for all of them to straighten again. Henri then extended his hand to the side.
A woman stepped forward into the golden light. Dark chestnut curls were pinned in a cloud about her head. Some stubborn pieces had escaped and framed her heart-shaped face. Two pink lips hugged each other and a blush stained the ivory skin on her cheeks. Her eyes, as striking and as blue as the sapphire necklace around her throat, stared straight ahead. It was her eyes that jolted Avrum’s memory.
“Haven...”
“The factory girl?” Lysander replied.
Avrum’s stomach dropped. Had he said her name out loud? He forced himself to nod, but he did not take his eyes off of her. Could this be the same young woman Henri had found sleeping in an abandoned factory building in town and had brought to live with them two nights ago? Avrum had first seen her that night, her hair knotted with mud, her cloth dress soiled and torn, her face smeared with tears and dirt. It had to be. Never before had he seen eyes such a color. They were difficult to forget.
And she was beautiful.
The sweet scent of human blood was the first to reach Avrum’s nose. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to swallow the knot in his throat. He hated the effect humans had on him still―even after a year of being changed.
“Does she bear a family name? Her father’s name?”
Shaking his head clear, Avrum glanced back to Lysander. “I do not believe so. At least Lord Henri did not speak of it.”
“I suppose, since she was found in the gutter, her family name must not hold any importance.”
His comment struck Avrum. Before Lord Henri, Avrum’s family name didn’t hold much worth either. Before the fire and the death of his mother and brother, those in Brenin family were always farmers and stable hands. There was nothing noble about his blood.
A pleased grin lifted Henri’s thin lips as he linked arms with Haven, revealing perfect, straight white teeth. Avrum stood very still, his skin prickling with heat as he watched them descend the stairs together. Haven’s silver gown shimmered with her every move. Henri seemed pleased to have her by his side, but Haven remained timid and reserved.
“Avrum,” Henri began when they finally stood before him, “what a marvelous little gathering you have thrown here.”
Avrum’s chest inflated with pride and he pulled back his shoulders. “Thank you, my lord.” He glanced at Haven, whose attention dropped to the mosaic floor at their feet. The swell of her full breasts rose and fell with each of her shallow breaths drawing in Avrum’s attention. A band clenched underneath her bosom, at the most narrow part of her, before the many folds of cloth came out and fell to the floor in elegant swoops and pickups. Similar to the sapphire necklace that hugged her throat, an assortment of bracelets decorated both her wrists. The jewels glittered underneath the grand chandelier. Being this close to her, Avrum could see that she was more of a woman than a young girl. She could be no younger than nineteen.
“Miss Haven,” he greeted with a small dip of his head.
The muscles in her jaw worked as she ground her teeth.
“Haven, don’t be rude.” Henri’s voice was like silk as he patted her slender arm.
Her body tensed. “It is a pleasure to see you gentlemen again.”
Lysander chuckled, his laughter quick and false. “I am sure it is.”
Henri gave them each an apologetic smile. “Haven still is not used to formalities, but she is learning,” he said. “Excuse me, gentlemen. I must make my way around to my guests and introduce them to my newest treasure.” Before he turned around to leave them, he stopped himself. “Oh, Avrum. It almost slipped my mind. I am afraid I must ask one more thing of you.”
“Anything, my lord.”
“Since Haven is new to our family, she may still be a little confused as to how things are managed here.” Henri glanced down at her. “I would like you to watch over her. Make sure she is safe.”
Something inside Avrum fluttered awake. “Yes, my lord.”
Haven’s eyes widened.
“She will be safe as long as she stays within Greystone Manor and on the grounds. I will not have her gallivanting where she can be harmed or lost again to England’s poverty,” Henri said.
“What?” Haven snapped at him. “Lost again?”
Her outburst caught Avrum off guard, but Henri remained calm.
“Yes, lost,” he answered. He turned back to Avrum. “As I said before, she may still be a bit confused. It’s to be expected for a woman in her situation. She will understand in time that I only mean to help her. I need you to protect her until then. Can you do that for me, Avrum?”
“Of course, my lord.”
“Excellent. Now, I must introduce her to this new life. If you’ll excuse me.” Henri nodded once and led Haven away from them across the floor. The music began again, and the dancing couples resumed their places.
“It is difficult to believe she is the same girl Henri rescued a few nights ago,” Avrum said once they were alone again. His gaze lingered across the room where Henri guided Haven around the room. He laughed and smiled at others, but her demeanor read as tense and angry. How strange.
As if sensing his stare, Haven glanced over her shoulder. Avrum rolled his eyes to the chandelier instead. Its many candles flickered like stars above them.
“I am not sure if ‘rescued’ is the correct term to use,” Lysander replied.
“What do you mean? Lord Henri saved her, just as he saved me, you, and all the others living here. He has given us another chance.”
In response, Lysander only lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug.
“Do you think Henri will turn her? Make her like us?” Avrum asked.
“It is possible.”
Avrum thought back to his turning—the extensive pain of his body dying, his heart stopping, the seeping coldness—and then there was the flooding warmth of life again and the thirst. The cravings had been the worst for him. The need to kill and consume blood were overwhelming. Henri’s cellar stock of animal blood had saved him from losing control that first month. He wasn’t sure if he wanted Haven to go through the same struggles. She seemed too frail, but Avrum doubted Henri would let Haven stay in Greystone Manor without being turned. He gave everyone he saved immortality.
“So, you seem to have a charge now.” Lysander leaned against the banister.
Avrum cleared his throat. “I do...”
“Do you think you will be able to handle such a task?”
“You make it sound like it will be a challenge.”
Lysander gestured across the room. Avrum squinted to see what he was pointing to. Past the swirling and dancing bodies on the dance floor, he could just make out Lord Henri standing against one of the large arch windows, deep in conversation with an unknown man.
“What is it?” Avrum asked.
Lysander grabbed Avrum’s two shoulders and jerked him to stand where he was. When a dancing couple glided past, he coul
d see what Lysander was referring to. Henri and the man were the only ones there. Haven was no longer beside them.
Avrum’s stomach flipped. She was gone.
* * *
The storm had worsened. Even the warm glow from the street lamps struggled to penetrate the sheets of rain falling from the night sky. The cold water clung to the naked skin on her arms and face, and Haven shivered as the wind rushed past. A part of her wished she had stayed at the party where so many people were gathered, warm and dry, but she knew she didn’t belong there. Henri had made her follow him around like his little pet all night, nodding at strangers and pretending to be interested in their petty talk. She had waited until they all were too engrossed in their merriment before slipping away. There was no way she was going to let him keep her in that place like a prisoner. She was born on these Birmingham streets. She knew how to survive and how to get around without being noticed.
With the sounds of the band and the bright lights of the ballroom far behind her, she hugged her arms tighter around her bare shoulders and trudged on through the dark city streets. Her dress clung to her body like another layer of skin, and her pointed-heel boots clicked against the cobblestone streets. The many pins holding up her curls made her head pound and the heavy-stoned necklace around her throat and wrists made her feel heavy. She broke into a run down Smallbrook Street. Her hands fiddled with the ribbon behind her neck. Haven pulled it loose, but hesitated for a moment when it fell into her palm. If she saved the necklace and bracelets, she could use them to trade for food—a good amount of food. She could sell them and use the money to get herself and her father whatever he needed. But that small spark of hope soon extinguished. A woman alone in this area was dangerous enough. A woman alone and decorated in priceless jewelry was prey for ruthless thieves and murderers. She was lucky for the storm. It was the only reason she had made it this far without encountering any of them.
Another thought came to her. Did she really want something to remind her of that terrible place? Accepting Henri’s gifts would be a way of admitting she needed him. Haven wanted nothing from Henri. She could take care of herself and her father. She had done it this long.
Making up her mind, Haven let the necklace clatter onto the ground. The bracelets came next. One by one she yanked them from her wrists and let them go. She plucked the pins out of her hair and tossed them away. Her wet locks tumbled past her shoulders and were picked up by the wind and tossed around in their freedom.
She smiled.
Haven turned down a narrow alleyway and continued on until she reached the abandoned factory building she and her father had called home since her mother had died five years ago. With doors boarded and its gray-brick face crumbling, windows broken and glass littering the ground, finally she knew she was safe.
Haven’s nose burned with the sharp smell of urine and rotting waste. Rats scampered around her feet in search of a hiding place, and somewhere in the distance a hungry cat whined. When she stood underneath the small window with the circular frame and chipped stain glass, she felt her chest warm despite the cold.
A light came through the window, piercing the darkness. Someone had lit a candle, and her heart fluttered knowing it was her father inside. She tried to picture his face―the soft wrinkles that appeared above his brow when he was thinking, the lines at the corners of his blue eyes when he smiled, the redness of his round cheeks and the slight dip in his chin. It was that face that she used to see every night before she went to sleep. It was those always smiling lips that would hum to her when she was remembering her mother and crying.
He must have thought her dead now. It had been days since Henri had taken her away in exchange for her father’s life. When Henri discovered that she had run off, this would be the first place he would send that man for her. The one with the soft brown eyes, long russet-colored hair tied back to rest at the nape of his neck, and the golden tint to his skin. He had broad shoulders and thick arms, suggesting that he was used to hard work. His name came back to her suddenly—Avrum. When she had first seen him tonight, she thought he was like her, human, but she soon discovered that he was not. He was like Henri, handsome but dangerous with an unnatural gleam of hunger in his eyes. Henri had given him orders to keep her in the manor. He might have orders to kill her father this time too. She had broken their agreement by returning.
Haven’s vision blurred, tears fighting for release. She pressed her fingertips to the brick building and closed her eyes. It felt cool on her skin and only made her heart ache more. The hot tears fell then, warming her cheeks before they slid off her chin and mixed with the rain. Why had she left? She put both her father’s life and her own in danger. If she went back now, maybe she could slip back into the party before anyone realized she was gone.
The wound marks on her neck stung, her legs throbbed, and the scars on her wrists itched. Henri tried to hide the truth with gaudy jewelry and gowns, but she was permanently marked by him. She did not know what he or the other people at Greystone Manor were, but they were not human. They were demons of some kind, devils in disguise.
She was not going back. Even though she was risking their lives, she couldn’t go back to live under those monsters. Maybe if she spoke to her father, she could convince him to leave Birmingham with her. They could go to another city or another country and live without fear again. Then they could leave this nightmare behind. They could be free.
* * *
Avrum walked through the flooded streets, his footsteps heavy and noisy, especially for him, but they matched his rage. He was wet to the bone. His once impressive navy suit was now tight and clinging to him.
Thunder clapped above him, loud and threatening. He moved a little faster, heading to the neglected part of the industrial city where the older factories and buildings had been abandoned for something faster, larger, and newer. The storm was at its peak, and Avrum could feel the intensity in the air. He had to be quick, get Haven and leave before the weather got too dangerous―even for an immortal.
Why hadn’t she just stayed?
Avrum lifted his nose towards the wind. Many scents hit him at once. The strongest was urine. It burned the inside of his nostrils. Even though the factory buildings didn’t seem to be in use anymore, there were still the lingering smells of smoke, manure, and sweat surrounding them. He inhaled again, but this time, he caught a hint of something sweet. Sweet and alive.
As he took a step forward, a crunching sound under his shoe made him lift his foot again. Avrum looked down. The object caught the streetlamps’ dull light and flashed its blue color at him. He bent down and picked it up. He knew what it was the moment the cool silver laid in his palm. It was the sapphire necklace Haven had been wearing.
Fear gripped him. Could she be hurt? She was alone and only human, and this storm was growing too dangerous to travel through. Avrum looked out into the darkness. A few steps away, something else glistened, and not too far from it, another. Her bracelets.
Avrum shoved the necklace into his jacket’s breast pocket and followed the trail of fallen jewelry and more pleasant smells. They led him through a narrow alley and left him in front of a derelict building with boarded doors and broken windows. When he moved to the side of the building, he saw her right away. She stood underneath one of the only untouched, stained-glass windows, leaning her forehead against the wall. Her beautiful gown was drenched by the constant wind and rain, and the hem was ruined with mud. Avrum stepped toward her as lightning flashed, illuminating the alley and her pearl white skin. For that second, Avrum could see the sadness in her face. Thunder rumbled again, but she did not even flinch at the sound. She looked like a fallen angel, standing there with her soiled elegant dressings and beautiful face—so out of place in this darkness and gloom.
Any anger that had been building in him drained away as he looked upon her. Her overwhelming grief engulfed the cramped lane and suffocated him. He could feel her sorrow seeping into his pores.
He remembered his
promise to Lord Henri. He had to gather himself. Haven was his charge, his responsibility. She was only safe at Greystone. Why she would want to return to this disheartening place was a mystery to him. There were such wondrous things waiting for her thanks to Lord Henri. Surely she wasn’t that ungrateful.
The rain pounded on the roof tops on neighboring buildings, sounding like an energetic roll of drums.
“Miss Haven!” Avrum called out into the wrath of the elements. “I’m here to take you back.”
Haven’s head turned, and she looked over her shoulder at him. He could see her expression now―eyes half closed but swollen with tears and lips parted. Her dark curls stuck to her cheeks.
“Leave me alone,” she responded in a weak whisper.
Avrum fought the pity once again. “Please, Miss Haven,” he continued, “you are safer at Greystone with—” Me? That thought surprised him. “Lord Henri,” he finished instead and cleared his throat.
With the mention of the lord’s name, Haven turned and walked to him. She glared at him through thick, dark lashes and tucked a piece of wet hair behind her ear in one angry swipe.
“I will go with you,” she said, “if you promise to continue to leave my father alone.”
Avrum paused. “Your father?” He glanced back at the window. He had assumed she had been orphaned like him. Lord Henri had never mentioned that she had a father.
The defeated drop of her shoulders told him she was not lying. “I’ll go with you. I am sorry for leaving.” Haven walked past him, head down.
He cursed under his breath and followed after her. If she had a parent, why had Lord Henri chosen to bring her to Greystone? There had to be a reason he did not know of. He would ask about it when he saw the lord again. Maybe then he could make Haven understand why she was better off with them.
When they reached the street, Avrum came to walk beside her. He itched to know more about her, her father, and the life she lived before Lord Henri. He didn’t understand why, but he wanted to help her too.
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