by Ali Winters
“Of course, you can go, Clara.” He slides off the edge of the bed and stands. “I will send you first thing in the morning. You can expect to be there within a day and a half. Mrs. Westfield will make you some food for your journey.”
It takes a minute for his words to register, but when they do, I leap off the bed and throw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his waist, and pressing my face into his chest. He stumbles back two steps before steadying himself.
“Thank you! You have no idea how much this means to me.”
At first, he doesn’t move, then slowly, he returns the hug. “I think I have some idea.”
My mind races with all the things Kitty and I will have to catch up on. I start to pull away, mentally listing everything I will need to pack, but the arm around my waist doesn’t budge.
He crushes me to his chest and dips his head, resting it in the crook of my neck.
I hold my breath, not sure what he is doing. His breath glides over my collarbone. There’s nothing possessive in him, and with each passing second, the feeling of melancholy wraps itself tighter around us. I can't put my finger on why his embrace gives me that impression—only that the longer he holds me, the more I feel as if I am losing him.
But he isn’t mine, and I am not his. You can’t lose what never belonged to you.
He is a vampire. More and more I have to remind myself of that fact, because he makes it too easy to forget.
I wrap my arms around his neck and rest my head on his shoulder.
When was the last time we were truly enemies? Though if we aren’t, I’m not entirely sure what we have become.
He is kind and gentle. Vampire or not, he means something to me…
Upon meeting, I would have gladly killed him, and though he claimed the same, I don’t think he has it in him to hate—to feel anger and pain, yes—but not hate. He is a better person than I am.
Alaric moves his head slightly, his mouth brushing across my skin. Demons and saints… I could drown in him. But I can’t allow that to happen.
His mouth hasn’t moved from my neck, and I can’t tell what he's thinking. Does he plan to bite me, ensuring I have his mark before I leave so he can force me to return?
“You promised,” I whisper.
Alaric stills. I am afraid he might still mark me… but mostly, it scares me that I’m not repulsed by the idea.
He pulls away, his face an emotionless mask. His eyes darken with what looks like hurt.
“Alaric…” I say.
“Let me look at your arms,” he says, stopping me from saying whatever excuse I would offer.
If he wanted to mark me without my permission, he would have done so already. There was no reason to mistrust him… in truth, I think I did not trust myself.
Alaric takes one of my arms and pulls up my sleeve, then the other. The marks on my skin are still bright pink and tender. The skin puckers where it has knit together. They will scar. But I am alive, so I will take it.
“They are healing nicely, but you should keep them wrapped for the next week.”
With how deep the cuts had felt and how much blood I had lost, I thought for sure it would take weeks to heal. Alaric had used all the power he could, but the magic of the night-forged silver dagger fought against his. The opposing magics made it impossible for him to heal the cuts completely.
He rebandages my arms, doing a better job than I had.
“Don’t worry,” I say, pulling my sleeves back down. “I will keep them wrapped.”
He nods once, still closed off to me. I hate it. I don’t want to leave things like this between us.
I made him feel untrusted… Demon shit. It shouldn’t bother me, but it does.
“I will have Mr. Steward include bandages and an ointment to aid healing.” Then he strides across the room and leaves without looking back.
A gentle hand rests on my shoulder, shaking me awake. I force my eyes open and blink away the blur of sleep to see Mrs. Westfield standing over me, a tallow candle set in a wrought iron holder.
“Wake up, Miss, it is almost time for you to leave.”
My eyes fly open, adjusting to the watery gray light of morning. It’s not yet dawn, but blood reds and bruising purples are smeared across the sky. Soon the sun will gild the edges of the clouds and burn away the lingering mist.
I dress quickly with Mrs. Westfield’s assistance. A simple, dark green dress with long sleeves and a modest collar, unlike the majority of the clothes I have here, designed to keep my neck exposed.
We walk down the halls of the manor. An eerie silence fills the house. It seems unusual when there is a house full of vampires and at least two demons.
The carriage waits directly in front of the steps of the manor. The driver sits on his perch, keeping his gaze straight ahead. He's unmoving as if he were carved from stone. My trunk is already tied to the back.
While I’m glad I haven’t crossed paths with the visiting vampires, I had expected Alaric to see me off. My gut clenches in disappointment.
“I have prepared a basket for you with individually wrapped meals and a few bottles of cider and water. It will be enough to get you to your destination,” Mrs. Westfield says. “Happy travels.”
Then she turns and walks away.
Alaric gave me permission to go, so why do I feel like I’m sneaking away during the middle of the night?
Pulling in a deep breath of crisp morning air, I walk down the steps toward the carriage. I don’t even know how long I have before I must return, though I assume at least a month.
My nerves hum as I lift a foot, preparing to haul myself inside. I look over my shoulder, expecting Alaric to show up any second now… but there is only the footman and myself outside at this early hour.
I don’t want to leave like this. I don’t want to leave things strained between the two of us. Guilt clings like the stench of stagnant water over what I implied last night.
I finish climbing in, resigned to waiting until after I return before setting things right.
As soon as I sit down on the cushioned bench, and look up. Alaric is standing with one hand on the open door, the other resting on the frame.
“I didn’t think you would come to see me off,” I say—my shoulders slump in relief.
He smiles at that, but there is no joy in it. I chew on the inside of my cheek. Did my implication that he would bite me without permission hurt him that much?
“I—”
He motions for me to lean forward. I do without hesitation.
Alaric places a kiss on my cheek then turns his head, brushing his lips against the shell of my ear. “Your debt to me is paid—do not return to this place.”
I suck in a breath as he pulls away. My mouth hangs open. I can’t seem to wrap my mind around what he said. I haven’t drawn a drop of blood yet, he can’t mean…
“I don’t understand,” I say.
But the carriage door slams shut. Alaric knocks twice on the side, and the horses break out into a jolting run.
I barely have time to turn and look out the window to see Alaric walking up the steps toward Lawrence waiting for him. Then the trees that line the edge of the property close in and block my view.
Chapter Nine
Clara
By the time the carriage finally comes to a halt, my back aches beyond anything I could have imagined. My bottom is sore from feeling every bump and dip along the way. But a day and a half of traveling without stopping will do that.
Once I would have thought travel like that would have been impossible. But I suspect those were not ordinary horses driving this carriage, and I am beginning to doubt the footman is just a man. How else could he have survived all night, exposed to demons as we passed through the forests?
Pulling the curtain back a sliver, I look out, then all the way to take everything in. The midday sun glares down through a gap between thick gray clouds.
I don’t know this manor. When Kitty said they were well off, I'd assumed she
meant they were middle class. This manor is considerably larger than anything I’ve seen in the central area of Littlemire. Then again, I have never been to the north end.
Even I could never manage to sneak my way into that part without being sent away by the local law enforcement, treated like the thief I was. Not that they had any proof.
This manor pales in comparison to Alaric’s, though it must be the largest in Littlemire.
Two servants—a man and a woman, both gray and older, open the front doors. Several long seconds pass before another man and woman exit the house. They are father’s age but look much more youthful in the brightness of their eyes and the way they hold themselves.
They are followed by a young man and a beautiful woman on his arm, her wavy brown hair is pulled up, and she is adorned in a long, yellow dress the color of buttercups in the spring.
Another young man follows them out, but my attention is drawn back to the girl. It takes me too long to understand that she is not just any girl—that is Kitty. She looks so vibrant and healthy. She is practically glowing.
They all stop at the top step, except for Kitty and the man, who must be the illustrious Abraham she told me about in her letter.
The footman finally descends from his seat and opens my door as Kitty and Abraham draw near.
I step down and before I adjust to the bright day, Kitty engulfs me in her arms, hugging me tightly.
“Oh, Clara, I hardly recognize you! I’ve missed you so much,” she says, pulling back to take me in.
She smells of perfumed soap. I'm suddenly aware of how I have been stuck in a carriage for nearly two days straight and am in desperate need of a bath and an unwrinkled dress.
“Me?” I say, laughing. “You are looking well. I hardly recognize you either.”
“We just got your letter this morning saying that you would be arriving, but we didn’t expect you so soon,” she says, looping her arm in mine.
Letter? I know I hadn’t thought of sending a message. Alaric must have sent one for me. I let out a stuttering breath at thinking his name.
The footman sets my trunk down and the two servants hurry to pick it up and take it into the house.
“This is Abraham,” Kitty beams up at him, “And this is my sister, Clara.”
He smiles, his deep brown eyes glinting with what I can only describe as pure happiness. There is a smattering of dark freckles along his cheeks and nose. He extends a hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Your sister has told me so much about you, I feel as though we are already family.”
The other son loops an arm around his shoulders and beams as well. He is about an inch shorter with the same dark brown skin. I blink, surprised to see twins. Unlike Abraham, he doesn’t have freckles, and his frame is leaner.
“Hello, Sister,” he says, then wraps me up in a hug, lifting me off my feet before plopping me back down.
“Watson!” Kitty admonishes. “Behave yourself. Can’t you see she has been through enough?”
“It’s fine, Kitty,” I say. Though I’m not entirely sure she hears me as she drags me up the steps to introduce me to her fiancé’s parents. The boys are a perfect match of their parents, taking their height and strong jawlines from their father, and their eyes and smile from their mother.
I am surprised at how this family welcomes me into their home… how they have welcomed Kitty. All four of them radiate love and kindness.
I am so happy for my sister. I don’t know how she managed it, but they will be a good match for her. She deserves to be part of a loving family for once in her life.
My eyes water. This is how I’ve always imagined family to be. And now Kitty will have this.
“Can you believe it, Clara?” Kitty gushes, throwing herself atop the bed of the room I will be staying in.
“The room is beautiful,” I say.
Kneeling in front of my open trunk, I pull out the last of my clothes to store in the beautifully carved armoire. I pause.
A small thin package, wrapped in thick, black velvet rests at the bottom of the trunk. I reach in and lift it—but only an inch. The weight is familiar, and I know I hadn’t packed it.
My heart jumps into my throat. Alaric must have put it in here, but I can’t imagine when.
I set it back down and close the lid. Pushing up to my feet, I walk over to the armoire and place the last dress with the others.
Kitty lifts herself up on her elbows. “No, I mean all of this? Can you believe I was able to secure such a wonderful match?”
It's strange that such a well-off family would allow their son to be seen with someone from our family. We were low, even within our own social circle. The little money I'd saved would have been decent for someone of a lower class, and she still would have been better off than we were. I don’t voice these thoughts. Instead, I lift my face and smile.
“It's everything I’ve ever wanted for you, and everything you deserve.”
Kitty stands and pulls me into another hug. “I am so glad you could be here for the wedding.” She takes both of my hands in hers and squeezes gently. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.”
I smile at her. Again. If I keep this up, she'll think I have lost my mind.
For the first time in my life, I feel like a stranger to my sister. I am lost for words. It’s as if I woke up from a dream that had been so real, so consuming… and now I am trying to remember the reality I have somehow forgotten.
“I thought that monster killed you…” Kitty doesn’t have to say, “like mother.” We are both thinking it. Then her eyes brighten. “But you look better than I have ever seen you.”
“Thank you,” I say.
Demons and saints! How did holding a conversation with my sister become so difficult?
“Clara?” her voice is soft and careful. “Are you all right? You don’t seem yourself.”
I pull my hands away as if her touch allows her to read my thoughts. I busy them by smoothing down my skirt. “I’m fine. I'm just tired. We traveled as fast as we could. I was anxious to see you again.”
She takes a step closer, her light brown eyes narrowed… looking for the lie. “That monster didn’t hurt you or…” Kitty’s words trail off, but I understand her meaning.
I feel the prickle of heat as it crawls up my chest to my neck. “No,” I say louder than intended. “He didn’t do anything to me.”
“Good,” she says.
I want to change the subject to anything other than Alaric.
“Enough about me,” I say, grabbing her by the shoulders and spinning her. “Let’s talk about your wedding. One month, and you will be a married woman. Before we know it, you will have three adorable little children…” I press a finger to my cheek, pretending to think. “One boy and two girls—one of whom you will obviously name after me.”
“You are already planning my future!” She swats playfully at my arm, laughing, and I laugh with her.
“Is he good to you?” I ask.
“Yes, he and his whole family are wonderful.”
“Do you love him?”
She blinks at me, and I freeze. I don’t know what possessed me to ask that. Kitty wrinkles her nose. “You know that love doesn’t matter when it comes to marriage.”
I do know. It has never concerned either of us before.
We sit on the edge of the bed. Kitty leans into my side and rests her head on my shoulder.
“That is very unlike you to ask, Sister.” She pokes my nose, then sighs. “But… I think in time I will. I don’t see how I couldn’t. They are nothing like Father. And he’s so kind and handsome.”
Love has never mattered… though with Xander, we had always been an exception. His family is beyond our reach, but he had believed we could circumvent his parents’ expectations if we just waited until his brothers married.
Perhaps now, with Kitty marrying into such a prominent family, it will be easier for Xander and me to finally marry.
I tug on the edges of my sleev
es, conscious of the thin wraps that cover my arms. “Have you heard anything from Xander Callowell?” I ask.
Kitty straightens and looks at me entirely bewildered. I suppose it makes sense. My relationship with Xander was the one secret I kept from her.
“Callowell? Why would you ask about the Callowell boy? You mentioned him in your letters, but I assumed it was some sort of coded message I wasn’t able to decipher.” Kitty scrunches up her mouth, but there’s more to her tone than her words imply.
My heart skips. I can’t be angry with her because I have not been entirely honest either. But this is about Xander… and my future.
I have only been away for a month and a half, not much could have changed… then again. Sitting in the Morgan’s manor, with Kitty engaged to their eldest son, is as far as we could be from the life we had before I was claimed.
Kitty gasps. “Was it code? Tell me, I must know what you meant.” She claps a hand over her mouth as if finally realizing. I like this version of her—energetic and animated. “Oh! He was one of your market friends, wasn’t he? Why didn’t you just say so?”
Market friends… she and Father both knew most days I hunted and sold the pelts of what little I caught to the butchers and clothiers in the market. Still, they both talked about it as though I worked for a reputable business. I suspect at least Father knew I picked pockets, but Kitty only ever wanted to believe the best about me.
I open my mouth to explain my relationship with Xander, to explain that the letter wasn’t written in code and that we have a relationship—but a knock on the door interrupts the moment.
The older woman from earlier, Mrs. Smithe, who I have since learned is the head housekeeper, opens the door and pokes her head in.
“Pardon my intrusion, young Miss, but the guests will be arriving in an hour.”
“Thank you,” Kitty says energetically. Her excitement at being treated as if she always belonged here is apparent.
