by A. D. Winter
Dryden hit me with a bitter stare. “He’s not a serial killer.”
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. You still need my help with it though, right?”
He bit his lip in frustration.
Sophie wiped her nose. “You want to go back to the chateau?”
“No.” Dryden’s voice was gentle as he brushed back her hair. “The crazy woman is just talking.”
“Yes,” I said, ignoring Dryden. “And I want you to take us.”
“Ivy.” Dryden shot me a look.
“The chateau might be the only place where we can find the clue that’ll help us solve this whole thing,” I said. “Who knows? Maybe her family is still there.”
Sophie lifted from Dryden’s embrace, suddenly filled with hope. She wiped her tears and cleared her throat. “You can help me find my family?”
“I’m not making any promises,” I said. “But if we find a clue that’ll lead to their whereabouts, I’ll do what I can.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Dryden assured her.
It was my turn to shoot him a look.
“No,” the young princess said. “If taking you back to the chateau might help you find the rest of my family, then I’ll do it.”
Dryden sighed in defeat. “Fine. Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“Nouvelle Lumière,” he said, lifting from the couch. “It’s a gated community, a fortress protected by guards. Only elves can get in.”
I glanced back at Sophie, thinking, then grinned. “I think there might be a way around that, eh, Your Royal Highness?”
22
Ivy
I rode in the back of a stolen carriage, across from the young princess, thinking.
Why? Why had they cursed her? And why had they killed her father? These were just a few of the questions I needed answered.
I sat up as I heard Dryden’s voice. He was warning us of the gates up ahead, and I quickly straightened, anxious to see what only a lucky few had ever seen.
Nouvelle Lumière was a secret place, a hidden lair where the elves lived in luxury. It was said that the chateaus were the size of empires and that even the sun shone a shade brighter on their little golden heads.
I wouldn’t know.
Chosen weren’t allowed past their gates, nor any other creature aside from the fae, who the elves served.
Even inquisitors were not allowed. Investigations would have to be conducted at the Order, where they would request interviews with the suspects involved. As Sophie put it so bluntly, we were just dirty peasants in their eyes.
I peeked through the window of the carriage, past the golden gates, and saw the rolling green hills of the vast estates. I’d never seen anything like it. It was all so beautiful.
“My father …” Sophie began timidly. “When you found him, did he look … bad?”
“Oh yeah,” I replied, distracted by the houses in the distance. “Like a shriveled-up raisin.”
Sophie burst out crying, and I quickly turned my attention to her. Stung by the unfamiliar sense of guilt, I rushed to correct myself. “Oh, you mean your father? Oh, he looked perfectly fine.”
“He did?” she asked, wiping away her tears.
“Well, other than the fact that he’d just been sucked dry by a bunch of vampires.”
Sophie burst out crying again, and I was once again hating myself for being such an idiot.
Dryden leaned over from his seat to peek at us through the window. “Is everything all right?” he called out.
“As peaceful as a sleeping elf,” I said, using the common expression.
Unsure of what to do, I reached out a hand. It was an awkward gesture, one that I thought she needed. But she quickly pulled away, seeming insulted that I would even attempt to touch her.
“How dare you! I’m Princess Sophie Laurent, descendant of Pierre the First. I should have you arrested for being so insolent.”
“Look, I was just trying to help,” I said, throwing up my hands in surrender.
“Well, don’t,” she ordered. “I don’t need to be comforted by you or anyone else. What’s done is done. My father’s gone, and I must continue my duty as his heir.”
“Don’t forget about your mom and little brother,” I said. “There’s a good chance the bloodsuckers turned them into prunes as well.”
She burst out crying again, and I was once again berating myself for being such an idiot.
It wasn’t my fault though. As a chosen, I’d never had a mom or a dad or even siblings. She, on the other hand, had probably been pampered her entire life, served breakfast in bed by servants who feared her.
Not me.
If I’d been woken up in the morning with a kick to the head, I would’ve been thankful. Yet now that Sophie was on the verge of finding that out for herself, I couldn’t help but feel bad for her.
“Look,” I said. “I know you probably don’t like me. Heck, you’re probably disgusted with me, being a dirty peasant and all.”
She conceded with a shrug. “That is true.”
“But sometimes life sucks, right?”
“What do you mean by sometimes?” she asked.
I smiled. “Yeah, you’re right. It sucks most of the time. But we just have to grin and bear it. That shouldn’t be hard for a descendant of Pierre the First though, right?”
She wiped her nose with a handkerchief I’d stolen from the same place I’d gotten her dress from. “Sometimes I convince myself that everything’s going to be fine,” she said, “but then I remember that I’m alone now. And then I fall apart. My father would be so ashamed of me.”
“Who cares what your father thinks?” I said. “He’s gone now.”
She glared at me.
“I mean, I’m sure he was a good father,” I quickly amended. “But seriously, who cares what people think? They don’t know what you’re feeling. And I’ll tell you something else: being alone isn’t that bad.”
“It’s not?” she asked.
“Of course, not,” I said. “It’s great. You get to wake up late, do what you want, hang around in your underwear all day. What’s better than that?”
She lowered her gaze. “Well, it makes me sad, dreadfully so.”
The carriage suddenly came to a halt as we reached the gates, and the two elves guarding the entrance came out to greet us. They were tall and lean, with slim faces and pristine complexions. They actually made me feel kind of ugly, especially now that I was in a servant’s dress, with a stovepipe hat and shawl.
The guard on the left approached the carriage, eyeing the horses and the driver with suspicion. Elves usually drove in fancier carriages, and while this was the best I could steal, it was nothing compared to the finer vehicles the elves drove.
“Are you lost?” asked the guard in a French accent.
“Well, my good man, that depends on what you mean by lost,” Dryden replied, sounding like a philosopher contemplating the moon.
The elf gestured at the other guard, seeming confused, and he quickly joined him.
“Who are you?” the elf asked. “What are you doing here?”
Dryden paused a moment. “Well, my good man, I’m driving.”
“I know that you’re driving,” the guard said. “But beyond that?”
“Beyond driving?” Dryden remained contemplative, perhaps even clutching his chin as he stared up at the sky. “That, my good man, is a question for the ages.”
He was messing with them, I knew, acting like a crazy person to stall. But it was a dangerous game. Elves were the nimblest of creatures, as quick as light and as light as air. They could cross considerable distances within the blink of an eye, and slice your throat with the smoothest precision.
I stomped my foot on the floor and peeked my head out the window, clumsily adjusting my hat. “Is there a problem?” I asked.
One of the elves narrowed his eyes at me, and I could tell he liked what he saw.
“W
e are questioning your driver for his purpose,” the elf said.
“My purpose?” Dryden asked aloud. “My good man, are you in for an afternoon!”
I rolled my eyes. “Excuse our driver. We found him in the Forgotten Quarter. Apparently, they’re letting insane patients out on good behavior.”
“Is he dangerous?” the other elf asked.
Only if you’re offended by cheesiness. “No,” I assured him. “Just a bit slow.” I said it loud enough for Dryden to hear me, then fought back a grin as I imagined him pursing his lips in frustration.
“This is ridiculous.” The other elf marched around the horses to stare at me. “All of you, get out.”
I glanced at Sophie, expecting her to speak. But she was in a daze, too lost in her own grief to care about what was happening. I guess it’s up to me to get us out of this.
“What is this?” I demanded in my haughtiest voice. “What’s going on?”
“By decree of the elf faction, I’m ordering you to get down from your carriage and submit to interrogation.”
“Interrogation?” I opened my mouth in astonishment. “Why, this is ridiculous.”
Dryden joined the fray, bursting out in song—some ridiculous nursery rhyme that he’d probably learned in his childhood.
The elves began to grow nervous. They exchanged glances, and their hands tightened around their spears. This was not going right.
I was already reaching for my dagger when I was halted by a voice.
“Assez!” Enough! Sophie’s voice lifted from the carriage like an imperial command, cutting through the chaos of our exchange and causing everyone to freeze.
Dryden and I silenced at once, and the guards straightened.
With a stony expression, Sophie glared out the window at the two elves. She was definitely not happy, and the elves were painfully aware of it. They fidgeted under her glare.
“Your Royal Highness.” They bowed their heads in respect.
“Qu’est-ce que c’est?” she demanded. “Qui êtes-vous?” What is this? Who are you?
Before they could answer, she told them to shut up.
“Arrêtez ces bêtises et mettez-vous de côté, avant que je d’informer mon père de votre ineptie!” Sophie snapped. Stop this nonsense and stand aside, before I inform my father of your ineptitude!
“Nous sommes désolés, Votre Altesse Royale.” We’re sorry, Your Royal Highness.
The first elf nodded for the other to race back to the gate, which he did, and the gates quickly parted.
Dryden snapped the reins of the horses, and we slowly proceeded onto the grounds.
I sat back in relief, thankful that she’d snapped out of her malaise to rescue us. “Wow,” I said. “That was a close one. Good job.”
She inclined her head at me and forced a polite smile, a gesture she had no doubt performed countless of times over her short life.
Dryden brought the carriage to a stop as we reached what appeared to be one of the biggest estates in the quarter.
“Is this it?” I asked.
Sophie glanced out the window, and I saw a shadow of fear crossing her features. Whatever had happened in that house had left a scar on her, and now she was being forced to reopen the wound.
I stomped on the floor of the carriage. “This is it.”
Dryden turned the carriage, and we rode up the cobblestone driveway, strolling by smooth cut grass and passing under towering branches. The sky was a rich blue, and the flowers were blossoming.
The Eternal Spring, it was called, a never-ending splendor of gorgeous weather, purchased by the elves from the mages on the Isles. And it was splendid indeed.
Sophie’s chateau rose before us like a proud aristocrat. It was a wide rectangle of French design, balanced with rows of windows and accentuated with a stone fountain in the center of the courtyard.
Dryden brought the carriage to a halt as we reached the entrance, and I waited for Sophie to move.
But she didn’t.
She just sat there, staring out the window at the magnificent home like it was an executioner waiting to chop off her head.
“You can do this,” I told her.
She calmed herself with a deep breath and lifted her chin. “Of course I can.”
The door to the carriage opened, and a tall servant with a mocking grin appeared. Dryden was painfully handsome in his servant’s jacket, pants, and high boots. In fact, if I didn’t know any better, I would’ve pegged him for an elf.
He bowed deeply when he saw the young princess, tucking one hand behind his back while offering the other to Sophie. It was a sweet gesture and perfectly performed.
The princess took his hand without a second thought, graceful as she stepped down the foot iron. But when it was my turn to receive the polite treatment, I wasn’t as lucky.
He merely turned away and led Sophie toward the chateau, leaving me to idle in the doorway.
“What about me?” I called out.
“I’m sure you can manage,” Dryden replied without sparing me a glance.
Wow, what a gentleman.
I stepped down from the carriage and quickly followed.
From far away, the home looked pristine, a magnificent piece of art you could live in. But as I drew closer, I saw a different story.
The windows had been shattered, and the front door had been kicked in. Streaks of blood from the bodies that had been dragged inside stained the wooden floors of the entrance.
Dryden wrapped an arm around Sophie’s shoulders as he ushered her into the sprawling reception room. “We’ll wait here,” he said.
I nodded.
As an inquisitor, I’d been trained to investigate crime scenes. I knew what to look for. The forced entry. The clues of direction. The hints that told the story of what the criminals had done.
Yet it was strange.
Aside from the kicked-in door and broken windows, everything looked fine. As if the criminals had been invited guests.
I made my way up the red velvet stairway, past the portraits of dignified elves posing in their finest attire. They glared at me in disgust, as if I were a dirty peasant who’d broken into their home. I smiled in amusement.
It wasn’t until I reached the second level, that I stopped. Something felt … off. But what?
I pressed on, careful as I continued through the hallway. The rooms were all the same: expansive, with high ceilings framed in extravagant marbling. The beds were canopied, with thick embroidered comforters, and the chimneys were surrounded by cushy chairs, where the hosts could entertain.
It was a far cry from the hell I had grown up in: a tiny corner of a room with only a fist for a pillow.
Yet, as much as I resented these people for their extravagances, I couldn’t help but wish I’d known what it was like to live in a place like this.
I moved on, shoving the thought from my mind. I was here to investigate a massacre, not wallow in self-pity. Unfortunately, I found nothing. It was as if the home’s very soul had been snuffed out the moment the family had been taken.
It wasn’t until I reached the end of the hallway that I heard the faint sound of moaning. I stopped and looked back, listening past the pounding of my heart. What was that?
There it was again.
I closed my eyes and followed the sound. It was coming from down the hall, past the set of double doors that were staring right at me.
I hurried as fast as I could, ripping off my servant’s dress to reveal the leather pants, boots, and jacket underneath.
When I reached the door, I stood aside and sniffed the air for vampires. Come out, come out, wherever you are. But instead, I found something else. Gripping the knob, I turned and entered.
Inside was a massive banquet room. The walls were draped with high velvet curtains, and there were statues of knights along the sides. I’d barely taken a few steps when I once more heard the moan.
By Danu’s pale butt.
Across the room, hanging upside down agains
t the wall, was what looked to be a massive dwarf.
What the …?
Dwarves were from the Forged Lands, a distant section of Salvation that was ruled by harsh mountains and terrible volcanoes. Stocky warriors who liked nothing more than tossing back a couple of ales while hammering out an axe. They were my kind of people.
Unfortunately, I’d never been lucky enough to befriend one. They were a private race, brutes who preferred punching you in the face than shaking your hand, which to me was completely understandable.
But secretly, I’d always wanted to befriend one. Not because they were so cool, but for one important reason: they wielded war hammers. And there was nothing more that I wanted than to try one out. But that would have to wait.
I looked around, making sure it wasn’t a trap, then crept out slowly.
The dwarf’s wrists were bound behind his back, and his mouth had been stuffed with a ball gag. He was shirtless, revealing a muscled body that was covered with deep bites and scratches. It definitely didn’t look good.
“Who are you?” I asked, angling my head to the side.
The dwarf tried to speak, but all I heard was a muffled voice.
“Oh, sorry.” I took out the ball gag and waited for him to swallow.
“Thank you, my dear. It’s been ages since I’ve had to keep my mouth open that wide. Do me a favor and untie me, would you?” As tough as the dwarf appeared, he had an effeminate voice that was adorned with charm. Usually, I would’ve expected that type of voice to come out of a cultured aristocrat, but here it was coming out of a dwarf.
“You’re going to have to answer a couple of questions before I let you go free,” I said.
“I’m sorry, my dear, but they’re simply going to have to wait.”
“And why’s that?” I asked.
“For starters, I’m upside down. And secondly …”
I followed his gaze as he looked up at the ceiling. In that instant, my heart nearly stopped from what I saw. Dangling from its claws, its wings tight around its black body, was what appeared to be a giant bat.
