Dark Secrets Box Set

by Angela M Hudson

  “Here, here.” Arthur rapped his knuckles on the table and stabbed a fork into his dinner.

  Slowly, everyone went about their meals, and quiet conversations started up again. Until Eric mentioned le Château de la Mort.

  “Elysium!” Arthur slammed his napkin on the table. I glanced up, shocked.

  “I’m sorry, Councilman. I meant no disrespect.” Eric looked into his plate.

  “Let it be known”—Arthur pointed at each person along the table—“this is the last time anyone will call my home such a name.”

  “Whoa, hang on.” I frowned across at him. “Isn’t that what it’s called?”

  “No.” He took his napkin up again and flipped it into his lap. “It’s not.”

  “It’s a nickname,” Morgaine advised.

  “But that’s what David always called it, too.”

  “Did he now?” Arthur’s eyes narrowed.

  “Urm… uh, maybe it wasn’t him who called it that.” I didn’t want to get him in trouble when he ‘came back to life.’ “So, what’s it really called?”

  “Le Château Elysium.”

  “Elysium? Is that like the gardens in the rivers of the Underworld—in Greek Mythology?”

  “Yes.” Arthur gave Eric a sideways glance. “When the castle was built by my ancestor—”

  “Your ancestor?” I screeched, then gulped it all back in. “I mean… sorry. Continue.”

  “Yes,” Arthur said, exhaling like an impatient but wise dragon. “The castle was commissioned by a man named John Philippe Knight—built as a home, a sanctuary—a place to end all journeys. And so, he named it after the place he believed to be the afterlife.”

  “So, why do they call it the Castle of Death?”

  “Of the Dead,” Eric corrected, becoming smaller beside Arthur.

  “Because”—Arthur drew his icy glare slowly away from Eric—“being that many deaths occurred at the castle over the centuries, and also since Elysium is a place in Greek Mythology where the dead go, vampires have quite amused themselves with this heinous nickname.”

  “Yeah, but Elysium is where the blessed dead go, right? Like Heaven?”

  “Precisely. It is a place of rest, a sanctuary. Not a tomb,” he said.

  “And it really bothers you?” I asked. “The nickname.”

  He eyed each of the faces staring back at him. “I grew up there, as a boy. It was always only a home to me. I’ll not have her name tarnished by ignorance.”

  “Okay.” I nodded. “Fine. Like Arthur said, no one calls it de la Mort again. Got it?”

  Everyone on both sides of the table nodded, mumbling to themselves.

  Arthur bowed his head, smiling softly. “Thank you for your support, Princess.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  * * *

  Petey and I lay on my bed listening to music, while my foot tapped out the beat of all my emotions. The night outside was incredibly still, slipping past my open balcony door and resting on my brow in a mist of perspiration. It made Petey’s fur stick to the back of my neck where I laid with my head on his ribs.

  “This song reminds me of her, you know—of my mom.”

  As always, Petey didn’t respond, but I told him all about her anyway: about her terrible cooking, the boyfriend who left when she fell pregnant with Harry, and the way she’d dance around the living room with me, singing into hairbrushes. And it almost felt like Petey shared my loss, like he knew her too, or at least knew what it felt like to miss somebody that much.

  When my playlist ended, I talked a while longer, letting midnight creep closer and closer, while the distant song of a cricket gave me a feeling of safety, knowing there were no evil vampires down in the garden. Not even my knights were out there. But they were right out in the corridor, guarding me from evil housekeepers and deadly dust motes.

  “I feel like a kid being punished and made to stay in her room,” I said to Petey. “I mean, I know I can leave, but I feel like Falcon’s my dad—waiting to bark at me if I come out of bed.”

  The dog’s chest sunk a little, his hot kibble breath making me cringe.

  I rolled over and looked into his pale blue eyes. “Did you just laugh, Petey?”

  Petey stared right into me, his tongue hanging out, and beyond that gaze was the kind of awareness that gave him away for an old soul. “I wonder how you became his dog, you know—Jason’s,” I said. “And I wish I could read your mind. I wish you could talk to me about him.”

  Petey edged forward and licked my nose. I giggled, pushing him away by his collar.

  “I’m okay, boy. It’s just… I don’t see him so much in my dreams now. It’s almost like I was left with a certain amount of memories, and now I’ve used them all up.” I thought about Jason’s eyes, and how I loved them in a different way to what I love David’s: like, they looked the same, but hid different truths. “It’s getting worse, you know—this… um, David just isn’t who I thought he was, and I…” I couldn’t say it to Petey, because I wasn’t sure I’d figured it out in my own head yet. “Love means loving someone no matter what, right?”

  A soft whine sounded in the back of Petey’s throat.

  “There are just so many things in David’s past that I still don’t know, and I’m starting to wonder if I would love him if I knew them all. And him not speaking to me just leaves me alone with all this in my head, and I can’t sort it out myself, Petey. I can’t. I am the worst advice-giver ever, and yet I’m the only one that can give myself advice about this.”

  The dog cocked his head. I looked down at his big heavy paws, making impressions in my white quilt, then flopped onto my back and wound my hair around my fingertip.

  “If this was Emily I was speaking to, and she said, ‘Hey, Ara, my husband was really cruel as a child and everyone who knew him as an adult cringes when they think of him,’ I’d tell her she should run, you know. That it’d only be a matter of time before that cruelty came out on her. But I love him.” I sighed, kind-of waiting for Petey to tell me what to do. “I don’t know. Maybe I just need to see him. Maybe when I look into his eyes and see the humanity I know is there, I’ll forget everything people have told me about him while I’ve been here.”

  But I wasn’t sure I would. And there was only one way to put an end to this silent confusion. I sat up and jumped off the bed.

  “I’ve had it! I’m going to see him.”

  My iPod fell off the bed with the sudden movement. I grabbed it and pressed play on the David playlist, then opened Arietta’s dresser drawer, pulled out my hairbrush, lip-gloss and a few other travel essentials, stopping when I heard a low growl from behind me.

  I spun round to Petey’s bared teeth. “What? What’s wrong?”

  He didn’t answer, so I turned back to continue gathering stuff, but the dog appeared beside me, snatching my hairbrush up in his gob.

  “Hey! Give that back.”

  He leaped over my bed and ran across the room.

  “Get back here!” I climbed over the pillowy obstacles and darted after him. “I’m going, Petey. You can’t stop me.”

  The white ball of fur dropped the brush between his paws and showed his teeth again, growling, probably attempting to look scary.

  “Argh. I’m not afraid of some overgrown marshmallow with a throat condition.” I stomped over and grabbed my hairbrush from the floor, wiping the gooey dog slime off on my shorts. “And what’s it to you, anyway? You’re a dog!”

  He sneezed at me, wiping his paw across the brow of his nose a few times.

  “Petey, I have no idea what that means.” I opened my bedroom door for him. “Now get your fluffy tail out of my room and let me pack. And don’t think I won’t lock you outside if you show me those teeth one more time, Petey.”

  He trotted off, and I looked at Falcon, who leaned back with folded arms, propping his foot on the wall under his butt. “Everything okay?”

  “Fine,” I said, and slammed the door.

  I couldn’t believe I
had to defend my plans to a canine. And what’s worse, Falcon definitely heard me say ‘pack.’ And Falcon, under orders from Mike, definitely would not let me leave the manor and drive all the way back home.

  My shoulders sunk, chest caving with a sigh as I looked at the balcony. I’d have to jump if I was going to escape. And I’d have to move fast. Falcon was not born yesterday. I probably had about three minutes to get out of here.

  I took off on my right foot, the vamp speed knocking a small side table into the corner of an armchair as I passed, and appeared in my wardrobe, still in one piece. I scanned the shelves, top to bottom, for a suitcase or even a plastic shopping bag to stuff my clothes in. A handkerchief folded around a stick would even do. But there was no need to go all Huckleberry-Finn style, since my suitcase was on the top shelf.

  I took a leap toward it with a little too much speed and hit my head on the ceiling before falling back down on my butt in a pathetic heap. “Some vampire you are, Ara,” I said to myself. “Let’s hope you can land better when you jump off the third story balcony.”

  I clambered to my feet, dusting myself off, and looked up at the top shelf again.

  “I will get you,” I said to the troublesome suitcase; it scowled back down at me. “And when I do, I’m going to stuff you so full you won’t be able to zip yourself up for a week without lubri—”

  “Need some help?” Mike asked, leaning on the doorframe with a pair of his own Falcon-style folded arms and a coy smirk.

  Petey sat by Mike’s feet, his tongue hanging out over his smug dog-grin.

  “Dibber-dobber,” I snickered at the over-protective fluff-ball—the dog, not Mike.

  “What are you doing, Ara?” Mike queried. “Aside from holding one-sided conversations with inanimate objects.”

  “I’m going to see David.”

  “Out of the question.”

  “Mike?” I slouched forward, skulking out of my wardrobe behind him. “Why?”

  “What’s the point of us trying to protect our last hope if she’s going to run off all by herself? What if Drake had a mole out there just waiting for you to do something this stupid?”

  “I don’t care. I’m still going to see David.”

  “Right. Come on.” He grabbed my arm.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “To see Morgaine.”

  “Why?”

  “So she can talk some sense into you, since you seem to listen to her.”

  * * *

  “I say let her go.” Morgaine shrugged.

  “What?” Mike and I both said at the same time with undertones of a different sentiment.

  “Mike, you heard what Arthur said yesterday,” Morg reasoned. “Drake’s not after her right now. He’s got other things going on.”

  “You talked to Arthur about Drake?” I said.

  “Yeah,” Morgaine said, as if this was old news.

  “So, what, he thinks we’re not in any danger?”

  “Not right now. Apparently Arthur’s spies have confirmed that Drake’s not even in this country.”

  “See?” I folded my arms, grinning haughtily at Mike.

  “No!” Mike pushed my arms down from their fold. “It’s not safe.”

  “Well, I don’t care what you say.” I folded them again. “You know I’ll go if I want to, and you can’t stop me.”

  “Damn it, Ara.” He slammed his fist on the table, knocking Morgaine’s card tower over.

  “Oh. Mike?” she whined.

  “Sorry, Morg.” He looked back at me. “Ara, please, please just listen to me for once in your life, girl. Just once. I’m head of security for a reason. I don’t believe it’s safe out there.”

  “Then come with me. It’s just for a few days, Mike. I just need to see him—tell him I love him.”

  Morgaine looked up at me then, her brow pulling at the center.

  I glared at her, confusion moving the muscles in my face. “What, Morg? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  She slid her fingers across the table, collecting her cards in a bunch. “No reason.”

  I sunk back on my heels a little. The stress radiating off Mike’s body made even me feel tense. And I felt a little sorry for him, standing there pinching the bridge of his nose, lacking any comprehension for my convictions. If I could just put him inside my head, he’d see why this was so important. But I couldn’t. And I couldn’t make him want to understand either.

  With a sigh, I looked past him to the night sky darkening the front of the manor. This was the first time I’d been in the Common Room, and I barely even noticed the cushy couches and the big open fireplace under the cloud of all my inner-turmoil. The décor didn’t match the Victorian style of the rest of the manor. This looked more like the lounge room at Vicki’s house, but with a dining table in the middle of the room.

  “Mike, I’m sorry you disagree with me.”

  “I just don’t see the point, Ara.” He shook his head, dropping both hands onto the table. “If I can’t make you listen to me, what’s the point?”

  “I do listen to you, Mike.” I touched his shoulder, so he shrugged me off. “But I have to go see him. He hasn’t spoken to me—said he doesn’t want to. Do you know how that feels?” I tried not to cry but my voice broke a little. “Do you have any idea at all, Mike? I can’t rule a nation if my heart is shattered.”

  He ran his hands through his hair, standing tall again.

  “Mike, please? I’m going. Please just support me.”

  “No. If you go, Ara, I—” He gave up in that breath, his fists cracking as he squeezed them tight. Then he exhaled in a groan and disappeared.

  “Well,” Morgaine chimed, setting her pile of cards aside. “That went well.”

  “It’s too bad.” I spun on my heel and headed back to the corridor. “He can’t control me all the time. I’m not a little girl anymore.”

  “No, and you’re not being truthful, either.”

  I looked away from her as she came up beside me. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Come on, Amara. Admit it. You want to see David again because you’re confused about how you feel.”

  “How I feel?”

  She blinked a few times, frowning as if concentrating. “I think you’re not sure if you love him anymore. What happened?”

  I stopped walking. “I never said that.”

  Morgaine smiled. “You don’t have to.”

  “I just—” I’d seen his face. I’d seen how he treated his brother, and he was so bitter and angry and hateful that I wasn’t sure if I could love that side of him. “I know I love him. I know I do.” I touched my chest where I could feel him. “But…”

  “Well, I’ve got bad news for you, Princess. You can’t go see him.”

  “But you just said—”

  “I was stirring Mike.” She smirked. “He rises to the occasion every time.”

  “My God, you are a torturer, aren’t you?” I shook my head, smiling.

  “It’s my job to know people’s weak spots.” She chuckled. “But it’s just a bit of fun.”

  “So, why can’t I go see him?”

  “Because he’s not there.”

  “Where is he?”

  She pressed her lips together and leaned closer. “Right now, I don’t know. But earlier today, he was here.”

  “Here? At the manor?”

  “Yep.”

  “Oh, my God.” I looked around, as if I might spot him. “Is he crazy? Why would he do that?”

  “He was just checking in on you. He does that from time to time. I cover his scent for him.”

  “Cover it? With what?”

  “Garlic.” She grinned.

  “What does that do?”

  “You really don’t know much about vampires, do you?”

  “Morg,” I huffed. “How does it work?”

  “Like a mask: it blocks the scent, leaving a rancid perfume. People will know someone’s been spraying it around but won’t know why.”
r />   “So how have I not noticed he’s been here? I’d have smelled him a mile off.”

  “Precisely why he only comes when you’re asleep.”

  “Asleep?” My jaw jutted forward. “He watches me while I sleep?”

  She laughed. “Trust me, he doesn’t like being the creepy stalker, but he said he’d go mad if he didn’t get to see you. So if sleep-time is all he gets, he said that’s better than a padded cell.”

  All the disgust blew out of me in a short huff. “Okay, that’s kind of sweet. But I’m still mad. Why didn’t he wake me—tell me he was here?”

  “He’s trying to figure things out too, Ara.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like how he feels.”

  My whole heart imploded. “He’s not sure?”

  “It’s more that he’s not sure how you feel about him. I think he can sense it, you know—your confusion.”

  “I’m not really confused,” I said.

  “Right. Of course you’re not. You never are.” She leaned on the wall. “But I think he’s wondering if maybe you’ve moved on—in your heart. Like maybe he’s not enough for you.”

  “Why would he think that? I never said or felt anything like that.”

  Morgaine cleared her throat and crossed her arms over her chest. “You know those dreams you’ve been having?”

  “Dreams?”

  “About Jason.”

  “What do you know about them? I never told you about them, did I?” I went through my conversations with her.

  “No, you didn’t,” she said. “But David saw a few.”

  “What?”

  Morgaine flicked her cherry red hair and smiled. “When you sleep, you’re not as good at that mind-block thing as when you’re awake.”

  I sunk back and leaned on the wall across from her. “What…” Wasn’t sure I wanted to know this. “What did he see?”

  “You tell me.”

  “I—his childhood?” I tried.

  She shrugged, her shoulders staying up for a second. “I don’t really know. All I know is that he’s pretty convinced you don’t love him so much now, and that if he doesn’t do something soon, he’s going to lose you forever.”