They want to feel afraid, and then triumphant.
They want victory over that fear.
I felt inexorably drawn up, up, up toward the inevitable drop off. The music rose around us, strong and pulsing, the people laughed, dancing, gyrating, their hands and mouths on each other, pressing up against each other, feeling alive as they moved together.
And I felt my heart rise into my throat as Kane held me close, as I felt the safety of the moment unraveling.
The very top of the roller coaster was reached.
The terrible thing about roller coasters?
You can’t suddenly decide “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t actually want to do this.”
So the drop will always happen.
Whether you want it to or not.
I felt a chill wisp of breeze trace past the skin of my arms and that skin slowly rose, goose bumps rippling across it as I shivered a little against Kane. I straightened, glancing up at her face, but she wasn’t looking at me.
Her mouth was in a thin, hard line, her mouth turning down at the corners, her eyes narrowed and flashing as she stared over my head at something behind me.
I couldn’t help it:
I turned and looked.
And there she was.
…Me.
Or, rather, my stolen face.
The woman who called herself Melody, who was—in fact—nothing of the sort, stood in the throng of gyrating people, and as everyone else moved around her…she stayed perfectly still. She stood, her feet a little apart, her hands curled into fists at her sides. She wore a stunning red dress, the kind with bare shoulders and shimmering blood-red sequins that made impromptu swirling patterns all over the bodice, and then miles and miles of shimmering satins and silks that built a purposefully ragged, couture skirt.
The effect was startling and mesmerizing. She looked like she should start waltzing in a ballroom to classical music, not standing here, swaying to rock music in a twinkling, low light atmosphere.
But here she was.
And she was staring, quite pointedly, at me.
She did not know, of course, that I had watched her exchange with Magdalena, that I now possessed her secret…and that Kane did, too. She was still operating under the lie that she was “Melody,” and that I had “stolen” her lover Kane.
Adding salt to the wounds on my heart, of course. I ground my teeth together, and I lifted my chin.
I shouldn’t have let her bother me.
But she did.
When she saw me glance her way, she put her head to the side, smiling a little larger and a little longer than necessary.
And she turned and faded into the crowd in a heartbeat.
Kane’s shoulders, beneath my hands, stiffened, and when I turned back around to face her, her brow was furrowed, her eyes the darkest I’d ever seen them. “I wish I knew what they had planned,” she murmured.
“It doesn’t matter what they have planned,” I promised her, standing up on my tip toes to whisper to her, too. “We’ve got this.”
Kane nodded, but when she glanced away from me, back into the room, her eyes sweeping over the assembled people…it didn’t look like she believed me.
I glanced up at Kane, and I squeezed her gently. I’d only given passing thought to what Kane must have gone through when she lost me all those years ago.
I’d been burned to death, yes. While I acknowledge that wasn’t the most pleasant way to go…she was the one who had to deal with the aftermath. I know Kane…I have lifetimes of knowledge of her, and I love her with all my heart…so I know how her heart moves.
And I know that she must have blamed herself for my death back then.
She must have stayed up many, many nights, wracking her brain, trying to figure out what she might have done that would have resulted in me still being alive…what she might have done to fix everything. She would think about it backwards and forwards, anger at herself becoming a poison deep in the pit of her belly…
And, gradually, over time, the anger transformed to a deep, abiding sadness that eventually almost drowned her.
She had to live with that “knowledge” for over a century. She had to live with her false belief that she could have saved me.
I was the one who died, yes.
But Kane was the one who lived with that.
My heart ached as I stared up at my beloved, at my beloved who now gazed around the room as if she, alone, could keep the universe from unraveling. But I wanted her to know, with every part of me, that she was not alone.
I was with her now.
And we would confront this…together.
So I stood up on my tiptoes…I was about to breathe as much into her ear, about to do my best to try and convince her that everything was going to be okay…
When I felt a tug on my elbow.
I turned and it was Bran. She was, of course, wearing the hell out of her tuxedo, with her smart bowtie practically shimmering at her neck. Her hair was gelled so not even a stiff breeze, let alone a hurricane, would be capable of moving a strand.
“Hello, lovebirds,” she said, giving us a tight, controlled smile. “You’re being closely watched…did you know that? Try to look like you’re enjoying yourselves, perhaps…we don’t want to give away that we know what they’re up to.”
Kane nodded to her and gave a tight smile in return. “That’s…a little difficult, Bran.”
“Well, I came over because I have a horrible idea.” Bran grimaced at me and gave a small shrug. “We want to smoke them out, don’t we? We want to make them believe that we think everything’s under control, so that they implement their plan, whatever it is, as soon as possible.”
Kane raised her brows. “What are you saying?”
Bran’s grimace deepened. “I’m saying that, perhaps, you should let Rose go get herself a drink if she wants it. You two need to separate so they can close in on Rose.”
“Right,” I said, and my mouth was suddenly as dry as salt. “I’m the…bait.”
Kane’s grip on me tightened so much that if I wasn’t a vampire, I would have winced. As it was, I glanced up at her, alarmed. She was holding me with a tightness that belied she would never, ever let me go.
“We have to get this show on the road, my friend,” murmured Bran, searching Kane’s face. “And Rose can do this. She is now, one of us, after all.”
Kane nodded tightly, searching my face. I knew she wanted to say something, but Bran reached out, closed her fingers over Kane’s shoulder and squeezed.
“She’s just going to get a drink,” she told Kane lightly, with a smile…though anyone who knew Bran would recognize it was a grimace, more than a happy expression. “Let her go, Kane.”
“I love you,” I told her, my head to the side, and even though my heart thundered inside of me, I stood up and brushed my mouth over Kane’s cheek.
And without another word, I turned and was swallowed by the crowd.
Gwen said she was headed to get a drink, and I was wondering if I’d run into her as I pushed my way through the folks crowded in the center of the dance floor. I smiled at them, said “excuse me” and “pardon me” about a billion times, but it was hard not to catch the infectious enthusiasm of the dancers. Everyone looked so happy, looked so alive.
I glanced past two men who were moving tightly together, and I saw Gwen holding two drinks above her head, moving toward me…
But there is pure chaos upon a dance floor so tightly packed. I could see her one moment, and the next she was swallowed by the crowd.
I tried to make progress in her direction, but there was a group of several women locked together, and there was no separating them. So I turned, tried to make my way around them.
I bumped into someone.
“Sorry,” I managed, not even looking at who it was I’d brushed so hard with my shoulder. But as fast as lightning, as a breath, that person reached out and took my wrist.
It was a solid grip, so solid that the step I’
d been about to take was called up short.
I turned.
The old woman.
The vampire—the one who’d given me back my pin at the top of the stairs this morning.
Even in the darkness of the ballroom, she had on her retro black sunglasses. Her hair was very smoothly pulled back from her head and tied in a bun, and she was wearing a broad-brimmed black hat, so it was difficult to see the color of her hair in this light. But I recognized her. I didn’t need to see her gray hair to know that this was the woman who’d smiled so eerily at me, her vampire fangs distended and visible in the broad daylight.
When I’d first seen her, gooseflesh had risen all over my arms, and it did so again as I watched her, my mouth in a thin line. She was gripping my arm so hard that her long fingernails were pricking into my skin. But I didn’t flinch.
She leaned close, her head to the side a little like a bird glimpsing something shiny. She smiled at me, and—again—her smile was much too wide.
And her fangs were visible.
“Won’t you dance with me?” she crooned, her voice sing-songy and terrifying.
But I wasn’t terrified.
I wasn’t even afraid.
I inhaled a breath of air, and then I was nodding, giving her a tight smile.
“I’d love to,” I told her.
Was this what they’d planned? Or was she simply a nice, little old lady who wanted to dance with me? How could I judge a vampire? I’d just married a vampire, and become one myself, so I was really in no position to make sweeping statements on anyone. This woman had done nothing but be kind to me—she’d been a little frightening when she returned my pin to me earlier, but what was and wasn’t frightening was subjective.
I wasn’t sure of much as her one arm encircled my waist, and the other took my hand, like we were about to begin a waltz. She was short, much shorter than I was, and she tilted her chin up to watch me, her smile deepening as I put my hand on her shoulder, took her hand, too.
“There,” she said, tilting her head to the side again, beaming. “Isn’t this nice?”
I’d once danced with my grandmother at a relative’s wedding when I was very small. That’s what this reminded me of as we moved back and forth exaggeratedly to the music. The song that was currently playing was certainly not music to waltz to, but it seemed that the woman wanted to waltz anyway. She was moving her feet in a waltz pattern, on a beat of three that I tried to follow. I’d only ever seen people waltz on old black and white movies…I certainly didn’t know how to do it myself.
I glanced down at our feet, trying to follow her pattern.
“Do you make Kane happy, dear?”
I glanced back up quickly, surprised. The woman in front of me smiled a little deeper, her head still to the side like an inquisitive bird.
It was impossible to see her eyes behind the pitch-black retro sunglasses.
I took a deep breath. I shouldn’t be surprised that guests here for the Conference would know about my relationship with Kane. It was a surprisingly new development (as of last night, this time around), but it seemed that word spread fast among the vampires.
I nodded slowly, allowing myself a soft smile. “I like to think that I do. I know that she makes me very happy. I hope I am able to return that.”
“Oh,” said the woman, tut-tutting me, “I’m sure you do, I’m sure you do. I was just wondering. You have this special glow about you tonight. And I see that you’re wearing a wedding ring?”
My back stiffened, and I tried to stay relaxed—she had her hand against my waist, after all, and I’m sure she’d be able to feel me tense. There was nothing to be tense about. It didn’t matter if this stranger knew that Kane and I were together.
“We’re…promised to each other,” I managed.
“‘Promised!’ How delightfully old fashioned! I love it!” the woman practically purred, squeezing her hand against my waist just a little tighter, as if we’d just shared a happy moment between friends. “Why, it does seem that Kane loves you very much, my dear.”
I glanced into her face, uncertain about her tone.
I felt a pricking along my side, and I winced.
She was gripping my skin beneath my dress now, digging her fingernails into me.
“If she loves you so very much,” said the woman slowly, carefully, then, “it will hurt her that much more. Lovely.”
I glanced down at her face, and I forgot to breathe for half a heartbeat.
Her smile had grown enormous. Far too large for a “normal” smile.
And all of her teeth were fangs.
She had a little veil along the edges of her hat, draping over her face—I was fairly certain that I was the only one, even on this crowded dance floor, who could see the change that had come over her.
I tried to pull away, just a little, but I couldn’t move.
Her hand gripping my hand, her hand gripping my waist…they were both as strong as iron.
I stayed still, swaying to the music along with her, acting as if everything was perfectly normal, as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.
I stared down at her, and my brow furrowed, even as my heart thundered inside of me.
I did my best to remain calm.
“Who are you?” I asked quietly.
“I’m Cindy, dear,” said the woman, shaking her head. “Just little old Cindy…that’s me!”
But the way she said it sounded like she was making an intimate joke—one I should have gotten.
“Who are you really?” I asked her then, searching her face.
She glanced down, and the glasses slid down the bridge of her nose, just a little. But when she looked up at me again, they’d moved enough that I could see her eyes now.
She had no iris, no white to her eye…the entire thing, both of her eyes, were as black as night.
Her smile deepened, and it seemed that her fangs lengthened as she gazed up at me.
“I’m Darcy, dear,” she said, and then she said slowly, as if she savored the words: “I killed Kane long ago.”
Darcy.
The vampire who’d drained Kane centuries past, who’d sent Kane’s dead body down a shaft into a dungeon to fall among countless other dead bodies. A murderer without a conscience.
Evil.
Kane had been strong.
She’d survived it.
She’d woken up again as a vampire.
But Darcy had wanted her dead…
And Kane needed revenge.
All those years ago, Kane had risen through the castle, hunting her hunter. She’d found Darcy, and she’d killed her.
Or so she’d thought.
Darcy’s grin deepened further, her mouth distended now into a rictus of a smile. It was hideous. “I’ve come to try killing Kane again,” she told me, almost conspiratorially. “Or, at the very least, I want to see her destroyed, in every sense of that word, my dear. And I’m starting with you.”
“Me?” I asked her, one brow raised. If I could keep her talking, I could keep whatever plan she was starting to put into motion from beginning…and maybe, just maybe, Kane was watching, would stop this.
Whatever “this” was.
Dangerous, I realized, as Darcy tightened her hold on my waist, as her fingernails began to dig into my skin, actually piercing it.
This was dangerous.
I didn’t cry out as Darcy’s fingernails dug deep. I didn’t cry out as her grip on my hand tightened enough to hear the joints of my fingers cracking beneath her hold. Instead, I made my face carefully neutral, and I stared the vampire down before me.
“You murdered Kane,” I said softly, and the anger I’d felt when Bran first told me the story, the anger I’d felt since, every single time I looked at Kane and knew it was only by her strength alone that she was still standing, began to billow through me.
But Darcy only smiled.
“I killed her and countless others like her. Girls who knew nothing, were nothing. They were mer
ely human,” she said softly, shaking her head. “They were worthless.” And then somehow, impossibly, her already obscene smile that was much too large…
It deepened.
“Worthless,” she breathed, “just like you.”
I realized several things in that heartbeat.
She thought I was still human.
And she planned to drink me dry.
Here, surrounded by so many people, she planned to murder me like I was nothing more than a wine stem full of cheap merlot, drinking me down until she’d taken every last drop from me.
I should have felt fear in that moment.
But I didn’t.
Instead, an inexplicable calmness unfurled itself about my shoulders, holding me close.
And I stared down at the vampire in front of me.
And I smiled, too.
“I’m not worthless,” I told her, “and no human is worthless. We’re not here for you to feed on and discard. You were human once.”
A long moment of silence passed between us as we stared each other down.
“Ah…but I got better,” purred the vampire then.
And she drew me close, like a lover, like someone who cared deeply about me…
And she buried her fangs into my neck.
I could have tried to fight her, of course. Maybe, just maybe, I could have wrenched myself from her grasp, could have folded into the crowd and found someone to help me. But I didn’t. I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt—her expression was unmistakable. She was out for blood, and she would feed in a heartbeat, whether it was on me or someone else, and there were too many humans in the room to make disentangling myself from her safe for everyone else.
So I stood there, and I felt her fangs bury themselves in my neck.
Because, of course, I knew something that Darcy did not.
Darcy was wearing gloves, so could not tell, upon touching me, that I was just as warm as she was. I would have been cold to the touch of any human…but, to any vampire, I’d be warm.
But she should have been able to tell when her mouth found my neck, when her fangs buried themselves beneath my skin, that I was warm against her.
She was either too far-gone into bloodlust to notice, or she simply couldn’t tell because of something else…
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