by Am Hudson
I knew they’d be well hidden. I knew he would never want me to read them—it was the ultimate invasion of privacy. But too bad. I would love for him to come in here and stop me. Besides, he changed, right? So what could it hurt to read about a man he no longer was?
Okay, I thought, as I ducked and leaned to read spines on books around the room, I’m justifying the invasion of privacy. But what else am I supposed to do tonight? I need to wait until everyone is asleep so I can locate Jason’s old room and get his journals, so that hopefully his past-self can help me figure out how to use my telekinesis for more than just pie throwing. I mean, I’m sure apple pie can be brutal when made by the wrong person, namely me, but not enough to kill a vampire. Kill some tastebuds, maybe.
As I sunk onto my hands and knees and angled my head to look under the bed, the chamber door swung open again and a petite young girl with mousy brown hair stepped in, carrying a tray of something that smelled delicious.
“Hello,” I said, springing to my feet with a little too much enthusiasm.
She stopped dead and her pale blue eyes moved up quickly to my face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.”
I offered a friendly smile. “I’m invisible usually,” I joked. She didn’t get it.
“I’m Fanny.” She curtsied, then cast her eyes downward and rested the tray on the chest of drawers. “I guess this supper must be for you, Miss. I hope it’s to your liking.”
“What is it?”
“Beef and red wine casserole with garlic potatoes.”
“That sounds great.”
“You can sit down,” she offered. “I’ll bring it to you.”
I sat on the armchair by the fire and Fanny positioned the tray on the small round table.
“Is that jelly?” I asked.
“Jelly?” She frowned at the tray then at me.
“Oh, right… um, jello?” I corrected, pointing to the bowl of dessert.
“It is, Miss. Do you not like jello?”
“Not really. You can have it if you like.”
“I…” She shuffled her feet nervously. “Vampires don’t eat human food so often, Miss—”
“Oh. Right. Sorry.” I shook my head at myself, wondering then how offended she’d be if I asked for a bite out of her arm. Human food wasn’t really going to satisfy the beast in me tonight.
“I’ll just take this back down the kitchen for you.” She picked up the bowl of wobbly red stuff. “Can I bring you something else for dessert?”
“Do you have chocolate down there?”
Fanny smiled. “We do. I’ll be back soon.”
“Thanks.” I leaned slightly back to get comfortable and took the plate with me, resting it on top of Bump. I’d seen my mum do it hundreds of times when she was pregnant with Harry, except her bump was big enough to do it without the plate tipping downward. I was starting to think mine would never get that big.
Bump and I enjoyed the succulent beef as it broke apart in my mouth and filled my stomach, while the fire crackled pleasantly in front of me, pinching my face with its persistent heat. I finished quickly and laid the plate aside, looking then at the chair opposite me, imagining David sitting here—as he might have if he’d turned me into a vampire and brought me here to live among his Set. So many things would’ve been different. He would’ve been different. Maybe he’d have quit being a Set leader. Maybe he’d have brought me back here and continued his duty—talking to me at the end of the day about the torture he inflicted on his accused.
I could imagine this whole life we might have had, and none of it would’ve been bad. As long as we were together. I might have sat here on my first night and asked him about the painting—about who painted it and what that image of a house by a lake meant to him. I gathered, from a very small fragment of memory, that the little house with the tilted picket fence was the home he and Jason grew up in with Arietta before she died. The place she died. The place David found her that day. Perhaps Jason painted it to bring David fond memories of better times. Perhaps he painted it to taunt him. I knew very little of the complexities of their relationship after the death of Rochelle and before the revenge. But I also knew they weren’t always hateful. I knew they loved each other despite everything.
The clock on the mantle kept time for my wandering thoughts, and the deeper in thought I travelled, the heavier my eyelids became. They drooped and opened and fluttered as I fought off the call for sleep, but the warmth of the fire mixed with the excitement of the day and they both took my hand and led me away from the room and into the world of dreams.
***
An icy cold breath expanded my lungs. I jolted forward in the darkness, my heart racing, the echo of a shrill scream ringing in my ears before… nothing. Silence. Dead silence.
The fire had burned out and the nastiness of winter sneaking over autumn numbed the tips of my toes. Beside me the tray of leftovers had gone stale and stuck to the plate, and the last candle in the iron chandelier clung for life, raging and squirming as the flame touched the wax.
I scrambled up out of the chair and tiptoed to the door, placing my ear against it. All sounded perfectly still out there. No footsteps, no running, no swords.
No rescue.
Those were not screams from sleeping vampires, surprised by a sudden attack.
A part of me, I realised as I stepped away from the door, kind of wished David had stormed the castle to rescue me. That would ruin my plan to kill Drake, of course, but it would just be so good to hold him right now. After everything that happened with Arthur, I wasn’t sure if the fear in my gut was because I had to kill Drake and just felt a little out of my league, or if maybe a part of me feared that David would never touch me again. I needed reassurance. I needed it from him.
Across the room, the windows had blown open somehow, the curtains wavering apart every now and then with the cool breeze. And in the air the smell of mystery and death tarnished the sweet apple and cinnamon scent of fall.
Drake said the vampires here kill in the daylight hours as well as night, but old habits clearly meant that most of that killing occurred at night.
My mind did a quick count of the number of missing persons per year that were ever actually found—whose killers were ever actually charged—and a new agenda fuelled my blood. As soon as my people reinstated me, I would force the Pledge down everyone’s throats. Like it or not. No more killing.
Then again, that would never stick. As much as boys would be boys, the same could be said for vampires.
Perhaps we could come to some arrangement with the human government: they could sell us their terrorists and murderers and child molesters and we could do with them what we pleased.
I nodded, satisfied with that little arrangement. That way, everyone would be happy—vampires could kill; good humans would be safe, and we could rid the world of the bad people, not the innocent.
***
Drake sent a note to my room on a silver tray with a butler I hadn’t yet seen. He requested my presence at breakfast and asked that I dress for a meal with the King.
I screwed the note up, tossed it onto the fire and put some jeans on.
He needed to be reminded that he was dining with the Queen. The only true monarch.
“Amara.” He opened his arms, rising from his seat as I descended into the dining hall.
It was a grand space, with a double staircase, two chandeliers hanging above a long wooden table, a fireplace on each end, and large paintings of evil-looking men. One of them was Arthur, and another a man that I assumed, from the resemblance, might have been a family member. Maybe even his father.
“Perhaps you did not understand my request.” He appraised my attire.
I avoided his welcoming embrace and walked right past him. “Oh, I understood it all right. And you need to understand that I’m a guest here. Not a prisoner, and I’ll wear what I want.”
His jaw tightened as he sat down, his hateful eyes betraying the smile on his face. “Then perha
ps I should clear out your wardrobe and remove all unsatisfactory garments.”
“You could do that,” I said, laying a napkin on my lap. “But then I’ll find your room and clear out all your stupid capes.”
“It’s a cloak.” He sat a little taller and ran a thumb down the shoulder of his gown. “And I like my cloaks.”
“I know.” I reached across the table and grabbed the sugar bowl. “They make you feel like a powerful little vampire, don’t they?”
Drake snickered, and a big part of me knew I was pushing it. Were it not for the fact that I was carrying the child he wanted, he’d have knocked me flat on my back in one strike. His pinkie was even twitching.
“Gosh,” I said, raising my brows playfully at him. “I’m joking, Drake. Haven’t you ever joked around with someone before?”
“I avoid playful relationships,” he said, stiff hands unfolding his own napkin. “They incite disrespect.”
“Well, among equals, respect is earned. Not forced.”
“Then, I must request, kindly, that we dine in appropriate attire henceforth.” He bowed his head. “If it pleases Her Majesty.”
I bowed my head in return. “Consider it my pleasure.”
“Much appreciated. Now—” He motioned to a plate in front of me. “Eat. Before it gets cold.”
I helped myself to a slice of toast, drawing a nice refreshing breath through my nose as I chose its topping: conserves, fruit, butter, eggs, bacon… just to name a few.
“Are you hungry for blood?” Drake asked. “I have a vampire on standby.”
My tongue moved involuntarily out over my lips as if the sweet, milky substance were against them now.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Drake raised a hand and motioned to the corner, where a person I hadn’t seen before moved, and a door opened to allow a man entry.
His modern attire, slightly stained with blood and dirt, gave me the instant impression that he was a man of the current world—perhaps worked a regular job and mingled with humans. His gait and stride matched that of a confident human with a slight timid pace as if he were walking into a situation that requires either great reverence or perhaps fear. He clasped a straw fedora between his hands, taking a sneaky look at me before lowering his eyes to his bare feet.
“Trey,” Drake said with a circular wave of his hand, “you will kneel beside our guest and give your life.”
“Yes, my King.”
My jaw dropped as Trey bowed and walked toward me without even a hint of fear.
“Wait.” I shuffled uncomfortably in my seat. “He doesn’t have to die. I can—”
“He will die,” Drake said absently, looking at a newspaper. “He is prepared.”
“But…” I leaned away from the man as he knelt and angled his head, exposing his neck. The pulsing vein there bulged, though, and suddenly I didn’t much care for his life. I just wanted his blood—all of it. Yet, if I killed him, I knew I’d wear the guilt for the rest of my days. “Why don’t I keep him?”
Drake looked up from the paper. “Excuse me?”
“I could keep him—for the duration of my stay—feed on him when I get hungry.”
This piqued his interest. “Like a pet?”
My eyes shifted sideways to see what Trey thought of that; he gave no indication of his desires either way. “I guess,” I said.
Drake looked at Trey, then at me, then back down at his paper. “Very well. But he is to be chained up in your quarters—preferably in the cellar. Am I clear?”
“Why?”
“He is a criminal.”
“What did he do wrong?”
“Robbed a bank.” Drake sounded bored with this conversation. “Got himself arrested by human law enforcement.”
“Oh.” I looked back at the criminal. “Why did you rob a bank?”
He looked at Drake, as if waiting for permission to speak.
“We do not care for the whys and wherefores of crimes, Amara,” Drake said flatly. “He is guilty, and he can either accept death by venom or fifty years supreme torture.”
The man physically cringed. My guess: he had a low pain threshold. “Well, then I’ll be sure to kill him when I’m finished with him.”
“I’m sure you will,” Drake said, eyes on the newspaper, voice intoned with disbelief. “Now are you going to eat from him, or shall I have him sent to your room for later?”
My mouth went completely dry as I considered my options. I wanted it bad, but blood drinking was just too private an act to perform at the dining table, so I asked Drake to send my blood-on-demand away.
We ate in silence then, the unfamiliar sounds of an old castle still settling into its soil keeping my ears and thoughts everywhere but breakfast, until Drake quietly said, “I have a hearing to attend today.”
“Oh?” I said after he added nothing else.
“I’ll be in the southern wing for most of the afternoon. And tonight we have a tour bus coming in.” He looked up from his paper. “Perhaps you’d like to mingle with the humans—as a tourist. You might enjoy the theatre show.”
I shook my head fiercely, straightening my already straight napkin. “I can’t go to the southern wing.”
I felt his gaze on me for a while. “Very well then. I’m sure you can find something to amuse yourself today.”
“I plan to invade David’s privacy while sitting under a tree in the courtyard.”
“Invade his privacy?” he asked, with a hint of humour in his voice.
“Mm-hm.” I nodded, smiling. “I’m gonna read his journals. If I can find them.”
Drake had a glint in his eye then. “Are you certain that’s a good idea?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
He didn’t respond. He just pushed his black brows up his head and sipped his coffee, shaking his head.
“Any clues as to where they might be?” I asked. “The journals, that is.”
At first I thought he didn’t hear me, or perhaps wasn’t going to answer, but it seemed more like he was just not a morning person—kind of like me—and did not appreciate so much talking before he finished his coffee.
He closed the newspaper, laid it and his hands on the table, pushing his chair out. “In the interests of keeping you busy and therefore not focusing on all your worldly problems I will tell you only this—” He leaned down and whispered, “All in David’s chambers is not what it seems. Where there is darkness you may find light; where there is a dead end you may find passage.”
My whole face slipped off my bones, leaving behind a cheap yellow circle with two black eyes and a small lopsided line for a mouth.
Drake laughed. “The confusion will do you good. It will keep your mind alert.”
“Thanks,” I said, rolling my eyes into my coffee cup. “I appreciate it.”
***
My skinny arms flexed as I tugged the small black ring to open the trapdoor again. It squealed and groaned, finally giving way, and the light of a new and sunny day tumbled down onto the wooden steps. This was the only dead end or dark place in here that I could think of. It also happened to contain a very juicy vampire for me to feed on.
“Hello?” I called into the darkness.
“Who… who’s there?” Trey said nervously.
“It’s just me. Ara.”
“Who are you?” I heard chains rattling. “What do you want with me?”
I ducked down as I came to the last step and peered into the cellar, finding my blood-on-demand seated in the dirt, both hands chained up beside his head. “We met downstairs, remember? I’m supposed to kill you.”
“Oh god.” He cried, resting his head back on the wall. “I knew he’d choose death. I don’t want to die. I don’t—”
“Wait, don’t you remember meeting me at breakfast?” I walked over and sat cross-legged in front of him, mindful of the dirt blackening my jeans. “I decided not to kill you—that I’d just feed on you.”
He lifted his head and one eye popped open. “You did?”
I nodded, crossing my heart.
His head went back against the wall again, this time in relief. “Thank God. I… I have a family—a human family. They need me. We… we have no money, I—”
“So that’s why you robbed the bank,” I said with a nod.
“No one was supposed to know. I was gonna be in and out before anyone came. But… the manger… she… there was a group of them. Too many to kill. And I couldn’t let them know what I was, so I had to let myself get arrested.”
“Where’s your family—do they know?”
He shook his head. “No one in the vampire community knows I have a family. So there’s no one to tell them where I’ve gone. They’ll think I… that I…”
“That you left them?”
He sobbed loudly then, his shoulders shaking. “Their father ran off when they were young—too young to know any better. I’m all they’ve ever known, and…” He wiped his eye on his shoulder. “Their mom, she can’t work now—she has this human condition that put her in a wheelchair. I was doing my best to support them, but the taxes—the King’s taxes. I just…”
“Couldn’t keep up.”
He turned his head and cried into his arm for a moment. He was young—maybe about twenty-six—and quite nice looking if you could see past the dirt and blood clumping his shaggy brown hair into mats. “You’ve been beaten,” I said, getting up onto my knees.
“Severely.”
“Why?”
He tried to shrug. “I spoke up to the guard—called him a fat cock.”
Very carefully, with a touch as delicate as a butterfly kiss, I moved his hair from the cut in his eye. They were a pretty pale blue, and I could see why a human would fall for him. That vampire charm and allure, combined with naturally good human looks would be enough to sway any girl. “I’m going to try to help you, okay? And get you back to your family.”
“Drake will never set me free.” His face sunk then and his eyes turned down on the corners. “They’ll end up on the streets now—without me. I let them down in the worst possible way.”
