by Ali Winters
“No matter,” Mayor Collins says, “it was all in good fun.”
As we ride back to the Morgan’s manor, everyone breaks into small groups, chatting. I linger near the rear, and once more, Kathrine rides at my side.
Other than Kitty’s presence, nothing about Littlemire feels familiar anymore. The sense of home I once had, is gone—if it had ever been there to begin with. Something I’m starting to doubt. The distance I’ve had while in Windbury has only lifted the veil over my eyes to reveal the truth.
This was never home to me. I am a stranger in my own world.
I push down the self-pitying thoughts and turn to Kathrine.
“Don’t listen to that old demon fart. Boy or girl, your children will be beautiful and perfect,” I say.
Her shoulders relax. “Thank you, Clara. I’m so glad you could be here for this.” She pauses and sniffles, eyes shining from unshed tears. “You know,” she says after a while. “When you were taken, I thought my life was over.”
Her words send a stab of pain through me and I wish she never had to experience that fear and uncertainty.
“Oh, Kathrine…”
She lifts her head and gives me one of her brightest smiles. “It was as if the Otherworld sent a miracle to make up for ripping you away from me.”
I tilt my head, not sure what she means.
“The money you left wouldn’t have made for a decent dowry, so it is a good thing our uncle heard you were claimed. Otherwise, I don’t think he would have come offering to be my benefactor—”
“What?” I blurt.
We don’t have an uncle. Both our parents were only children. I swear if some demon or vampire has tricked her into some bargain, I will hunt them down and drive the blade of my dagger through the spot where their heart should be.
“Yes, Mr. Steward—oops!” Kathrine slaps a hand over her mouth. “I wasn’t supposed to say anything…”
I gape at her, my breath hitching inside my chest.
Mr. Steward… that’s… My brain ceases to function for several heartbeats. Kathrine continues on, but I stop listening.
The only man I know by that name is Alaric’s butler. There’s no way he… unless—
My mouth goes dry.
Alaric sent his butler to Kathrine and arranged this marriage…
My stomach twists into knots. Had he compelled the family into accepting Kathrine? What exactly had he done?
Alaric had orchestrated this entire thing and had said nothing.
He deceived me. He told me it was hopeless, that I was doomed to go to Nightwich with him. And all the while, he was manufacturing the very excuse to grant my freedom.
This is what I wanted, so why lie?
My head spins trying to understand. I can’t focus on Kitty, or the horse under me—nothing besides the letter that was wrapped up with the night-forged dagger.
Why hadn’t he said anything?
Chapter Fifteen
Alaric
“Alaric,” a soft voice whispers.
My eyes flutter open. Clara stands at my bedside, hands clasped in front of her. She looks down at me with a frown on her lips and a wrinkled brow.
“Clara?” I reach out to her as I sit up, but she side-steps just out of reach. “What are you doing here?”
She doesn’t answer. Her frown transforms into a scowl, her eyes accuse me of betrayal.
She makes a movement to leave and I am on my feet in an instant.
“Wait,” I say. The word comes out somewhere between a command and begging. It is the same thing I’ve said a thousand times before.
Clara looks over her shoulder at me. Black has swallowed her irises and the whites of her eyes. “You did this to me,” she whispers. “You’ve killed me.”
And then she’s gone.
I startle awake—truly awake this time. A sliver of red light pours through a thin opening of the curtains. The sun is setting.
I sit on the edge of the mattress, resting my elbows on my knees, and let my head hang. Cherno remains sleeping on the pillow next to mine.
It is the same dream each night, with variations. It started with just her voice in the dark, then her face started to appear. There are times when her eyes are covered in the milky white film of death, others times they are encircled with a thick line of red, or entirely human and brimming with unshed tears.
Sometimes I wake upon seeing her face, other times when I reach for her. Her face and voice haunt my nights.
She's gone, but I still cannot rid myself of her presence.
I cannot help but feel as though she is sending me a message. I have betrayed her in my attempt to save her.
There is no use in trying to go back to sleep now, the others will wake soon and I will be expected to play the part of the perfect host. I stand and take my time dressing before I head to my office for an hour.
At least I will have some time to myself before the others demand my attention.
“How long will you allow yourself to mope over that human?” Lawrence’s voice mutters from the doorway of my office.
I don’t look up from my desk, though I rearrange the papers, flipping the one I was writing on so that it’s faced down.
“I’m not moping,” I say dryly.
“I never thought I’d see the day where Alaric Devereaux claimed a human… why did you claim her? It is so unlike you.”
“Isn’t that what you wanted? For me to participate in these ‘festivities’ as you called them.”
He saunters over to me and rests a hip on the edge.
I set the quill down and cross my arms and lean back in my chair. A fire snaps and pops in the hearth. Above, Cherno hangs from one of the support beams, observing.
I sigh and rub the back of my neck, desperate to change the subject. “What do you make of Mr. Connors?”
Lawrence frowns. This is clearly not the conversation he intended to have when he sought me out.
He cocks his head and arches a single golden brow. After a moment’s hesitation, he takes the bait. “What about him?”
“The last time Elizabeth made a new vampire was almost a hundred years ago. Why him? Why now?”
Lawrence waves a hand dismissively. He stands, crossing to the window. He pushes the drapes aside to stare out on the manor’s grounds below. “Who knows why she does the things she does?”
I sneer at the drive leading passed the wrought iron fence at the edge of the property and the woods beyond. A view I had once enjoyed—a view I have kept covered for the last several days.
My fingertips graze the overturned papers.
“She must see something in Victor. She wouldn’t have turned him otherwise,” he adds after a moment.
“There are twelve of us all together… There have only ever been twelve of us made by her hand for almost a hundred years now.”
There is something about this new vampire and Elizabeth’s motives that bother me. It's one thing for her to create another vampire on a whim, it is yet another to send him to do her bidding when he is still learning to control his strength, needs, desires, and his very nature.
“We know all this,” Lawrence says as he studies me from the corner of his eye. “Why are you bringing this up? It won’t do any good. We can’t even begin to guess at her reasoning—and attempting to do so is a waste of time.”
I shake my head. “I am curious, though I suppose you are right—it doesn’t matter.”
“Good,” he says.
“Except…”
Lawrence throws his hands up, allowing the curtains to drop back into place over the window. “Except what, Alaric?”
“Elizabeth is a creature of habit and Victor struggles daily to control his bloodlust. He killed a young woman that first night after I explicitly forbade any of you from harming the humans in this area. And every time we feed in town, I am almost always forced to clean up his messes.”
Clara had been too nervous, too inebriated to notice that the poor girl at Victor’s feet
was dying a slow death and begging him for it. I don’t want to think what her reaction would have been if she had realized the truth.
“It was only one—”
The excusatory behavior sets my teeth on edge. “These humans volunteer their blood and they do so with the understanding that their lives will not be in jeopardy at the hands of any vampire.”
“Who cares if a human dies every once in a while?”
“I care,” I grind out. “Do you know how many humans I had to compel into forgetting that she volunteered? I made her family think she ran away with some boy, and then compel enough of them into believing this boy existed.”
I sigh and rub my forehead, using so much power to compel so many of the villagers took its toll.
“You care so much for these humans… you and your sister. I will never understand.”
I scoff. “Is there a single one of you who would? I’m surprised Elizabeth hasn’t forced my hand before now to participate in her ridiculous claiming.”
Lawrence swivels around so fast, the rug under his boots twists from the force of it. He stomps toward the desk and splays his palms flat on the surface of the desk, looming over me. “You know why she hasn’t.”
My nostrils flare, but I say nothing.
“If you were anyone else, she would have.” Red encircles his irises. On the opposite end of the room, Arinah lets out a series of high-pitched squeaks at the sudden pull of power he draws from them. “She wants you. It's the only reason she allowed you to sire Rosalie and allowed her to lower herself to feed on animals without killing her for the insult,” he spits the words. “It is the only reason why she has never forced you to act like what you are. You are her—”
“Don’t,” I say lowly, but there is a threat in that single word. Enough for him to understand and bow to my authority.
Lawrence straightens and looks down on me with pity. “You will give in to her one of these days, and it will be sooner than you think, now that you have claimed a human.”
He turns away and walks to the fireplace, Arinah skitters over to him, crossing the mantel. He coos an apology for taking power without warning.
I lay my hand on top of the paper I had flipped over. The hidden side bares my secret—Clara’s name written across the top, followed by line after line of words I wrote and crossed out… over and over. Unable to figure out what I want, or should, say.
Nothing. I should say nothing. Writing would be pointless. I doubt she would waste her time writing a response, let alone read it.
I claimed Clara knowing neither of us had wanted it, and she had made it clear from the start that she did not want to be here.
She left, and all I had to do was say the words that granted her the freedom she desired.
I crumple the paper in my fist and fling it into the flames. It catches immediately. Lawrence and I watch it burn until there is no trace of it left.
“You let her go,” he says as he continues to stare into the flames.
It isn’t a question but a statement. One I know better than to confirm or deny.
“She will not return.” He faces me again. Arinah moves from one of his shoulders to the other, their little pink nose and long white whiskers twitching. “You know it as well as I do.”
“That remains to be seen,” I say.
He is right. I was a fool to think otherwise, to think no one would notice. Cold resolve settles in my veins. It numbs my mind, my body, my heart.
I should have compelled that command upon her, but I didn’t want my last act to be one of control. Besides, compelling her would have been pointless. Clara made it no secret in the six weeks she spent here that she wanted nothing more than to leave and return home to her sister.
She would never choose to be here.
“So, you think she will come back… even without your mark?” Lawrence asks derisively.
I nearly flinch at the question. The truth is that… no, I know Clara will not return. Though to admit that aloud—even to Lawrence—would mean a fate worse than death for her.
I remain silent for several long minutes.
“Vampires cannot simply claim a human and then release them. That isn’t how this works. She might be the first you’ve bothered to claim, but even you know Elizabeth would never allow such a thing. If not by your hand, then by another’s… that human will die, and it will not be a good death.”
If Clara lives, then she will be hunted by vampires and punished. They won't care that I set her free, only that she was claimed.
She is better off if I put her out of her misery.
I meet his gaze, unflinching. “Then perhaps I will hunt her down before we leave and kill her. I will bring Clara’s lifeless body to Nightwich and lay her at Elizabeth’s feet. Do you think that will satisfy her?”
I gave Clara back her freedom, and now I mean to take her life.
It is silent for a minute. And then Lawrence laughs, throwing his head back.
“You do not mean that, my friend,” he says when he finally calms.
My blood pulses at the notion of hunting her down, finding her… feeding on her. Even if I must deceive her in the end.
If death must come for her, then I can at least give her peace in her final moments. I can give her a clean death—one without pain or fear.
I place my palms flat on the desk, push myself up to stand, and look him dead in the eye. “Oh, my friend, but I do.”
Chapter Sixteen
Clara
Kathrine is a vision in her wedding dress. The cream-colored material covers her from her wrists to halfway up her neck, and the bell-shaped skirt flows down past her feet. Shimmering gold thread with small pearl beads in strategic places adds a soft touch. On her head, sits a crown of white rosebuds holding the veil in place.
The amount of material used in the dress, combined with the extravagance of this wedding, is a sign of the Morgan’s wealth. The money the Morgan’s spent on parties, food, and drink over the last month is beyond anything I've ever heard of in Littlemire. I wonder how much of it had been funded by Alaric.
But why go to such lengths? He could have easily married her off to someone of lesser status.
Kathrine stands before everyone with Abraham, their hands clasped as the officiant speaks.
The ceremony, once it begins, is short. Soon they race down the isle and through the halls. I hurry through the doors leading outside and run around to the front where their carriage waits for them.
Kathrine waves when she sees me and rushes over, leaving her new husband. She gathers me up into a hug. She will be gone for a week.
“I’m so glad you are back,” she says. She places a kiss on each of my cheeks then leans in close to whisper in my ear, “Perhaps uncle Steward will find you an equally suitable match.” She looks over her shoulder then laughs and adds, “I am sure he can find someone almost as good.”
I don’t want your life. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow them back down.
“I am happy for you,” I say. “Go, enjoy your trip.”
Kathrine hurries to the carriage and, with her husband’s help, climbs in. I stand there and wave alongside everyone else until the carriage disappears down the road.
Nothing about this life fits who I am, though I’m not entirely sure what does anymore. Even if Mr. Steward was our uncle, I wouldn’t want this.
With the newlyweds gone, the guests leave. Abraham’s mother, Mina, squeezes my shoulder and gives me a tight-lipped smile before following her husband and remaining sons into the house. I linger a minute longer before heading inside and going to my room.
Once the bedroom door is shut tight behind me, I strip off the uncomfortable lacy dress that Kathrine had picked out, changing into fitted trousers and a loose blouse. I grab my worn and tattered book and plop down on the bed to read.
The Morgan’s have opened their library to me, but tonight I want to find comfort in something familiar.
I suck in a sharp breath
and blink into the darkness. My book slips from my chest to the bed, thunking closed.
I wait for my eyes to adjust. The window to my right is small, the room itself is smaller than I remember… then as my hazy mind wakens fully, it comes back to me. I am in Littlemire.
A branch scrapes against my window. I slump back onto my pillows. Not a demon.
Picking up my book, I set it on the bedside table, then roll to my side and close my eyes.
Several minutes later, my eyes snap open again, unable to fall back to sleep. My pulse races, pounding with the speed of my restless thoughts.
Since returning to Littlemire, the only time I've been happy were those rare moments I spent alone with Kitty.
Kathrine will be back in seven days, and she will expect me to be here—which I assume is the only reason why the Morgan’s didn’t ask me to leave with everyone else. For the time being, I’ve accepted the hospitality of people I can’t relate to.
But eventually, I will need to go somewhere.
I have no desire to check in on Father, let alone return to that shack that holds nothing but bad memories. I’d be more at home in the forest being possessed by a particularly nasty demon. What will I do tomorrow? Or next week, or the week after that?
Kathrine is safe with a secure life ahead of her.
What was it that Lawrence said?
“If you could go anywhere, be anywhere, without obligation, where would you choose?”
His words echo in my mind. Without obligation…
I find myself in the situation he described a month ago, and I’m at a loss.
Kathrine will be taken care of, no matter what happens to me. And Xander? He and I were never going to end up together. I realize now that we were too young and naïve when we began making plans. We'd spent our childhood lying to each other and ourselves.
I'm sure that with the Morgan’s influence, I could find a match that would leave Kathrine ecstatic, but I don’t want that life.
It’s strange and freeing and terrifying all at once. I don’t know who I am without those obligations. But I can’t stay here, not in this house, and not in Littlemire.
