by Jay Kristoff
“‘All this.’ The girl waved about us. ‘The same old people having the same old conversations. It’s just the same as it was last year. And the year before.’ She watched me through long dark lashes. ‘Except for you, of course.’
“I proffered my tray. ‘May I offer you a drink, mademoiselle?’
“The girl took a glass, but raised one brow. ‘Come now. You’re no more a servant than I. You arrived with Aaron and those others earlier today. The sour-faced man, and the thin one with the oily moustache. Who are you?’
“I was wondering the same of her, but turned my eyes to the floorboards as a good servant might. ‘Nobody of consequence, mademoiselle.’
“‘Hmm.’ She sniffed. ‘I’ll be the judge of that.’
“With one more glance for me, the young lady turned on polished heels and drifted into the throng. I shook my head, eyes returning to the crowd. Baron de Coste’s ballroom was full of folk like that, all of the cut and color I’d expected—the blushing ingénue, the handsome rake. The drunken lord and the smiling snake. My hand drifted to an inner pocket of my doublet, right over my heart, to the saintsday gift folded there. The portrait Astrid had drawn me. I was surrounded by beauties in old velvet and satin, corsets of whalebone and necklets of gold. And the only girl I found myself thinking of wore simple novice white.
“I missed her.
“The feast was done, the revels begun, couples sweeping about the dance floor to beautiful song. The Baron de Coste sat among his lords, barks of laughter cutting the air like rusty knives. Hours had passed and still, not a hint of our quarry. But now, looking across the room, I realized I might have trouble of a different flavor.
“The Baronne de Coste stood among a bouquet of highborn dames holding court. Aaron had found his way free of his mother’s side, and was now sitting at a round table, surrounded by beautiful young women. They flocked to him, silken and smiling, spellbound by the return of the handsome golden-haired lordling. But looking at the flush in his cheeks as he downed another goblet, there was no doubt about it.
“De Coste was getting shitfaced.
“I couldn’t fucking believe it. Here and now? Spitting a soft curse, I walked across the dancefloor to hover beside his table, silent and glowering.
“‘Ah, splendid.’ One of the demoiselles raided my tray, taking all the remaining drinks and nodding toward the kitchens. ‘Fetch more, garçon. And be swift about it.’
“De Coste looked up at me and smiled. ‘You heard Mlle Monique, Peasant.’
“I’d half a mind to drag the spoiled shit someplace private and kick some sense into him. But for all the apparent futility of it, we were still at Hunt. And so, instead of making a scene, I gave the silken gathering my best courtly bow—which isn’t all that courtly, mind—and my best crooked smile, which I’m assured is crooked as an Ossian tax collector.
“‘Pardon, mesdemoiselles. But I have a message for Lord de Coste from the Baron.’
“The ladies looked to Aaron in question, and after a dramatic roll of his baby blues, the lordling begged leave and sent them away. I waited ’til the flock was out of earshot, then sat beside him, a polite smile painted on my face as I spat like I’d a mouthful of piss.
“‘Have you taken leave of your fucking senses?’
“Aaron gulped another mouthful. ‘What troubles, frailblood?’
“‘We’re at Hunt, and you’re so sodden you can barely stand!’
“‘The hour grows late, and still no sign of Luncóit. Methinks the viper smelled the hounds on her tail. So, oui, I’m having a fucking drink.’ Aaron’s eyes roamed the revelers about us, then sidelong to me. ‘You look ridiculous in those stockings, by the way.’
“‘Sweet of you to notice, shitheel.’
“His sneer widened. ‘If it’s of comfort, my cousin noticed too.’
“I followed Aaron’s eyeline, noting a clutch of pretty young femmes watching me over their fluttering fans. Among them, I saw that autumn-haired girl again, gazing at me with careful blue eyes. Looking about the room, I saw others staring at us too—the predator in our blood ever drawing attentions toward us. These folk knew not what we were, but something in their hearts told us we were not their kind.
“‘Véronique has been gawping at your shapely calves all evening.’ Aaron raised his goblet, and the autumn-haired girl raised hers in kind, smiling sweet. ‘Expect a proposition when her father gets too drunk to notice. I adore the little bitch. Famille is famille. But her sort do so enjoy tumbling with the help.’
“‘Her sort?’
“‘Poor little rich girl.’ Aaron sighed and glanced about. ‘All of them. Such clichés.’
“I gritted my teeth as de Coste finished his wine, eyes on his stepfather. The Baron de Coste was regaling his lords with a bawdy tale, and the noblemen roared with laughter on cue, like trained pups. Aaron shook his head in disgust.
“‘Especially him.’
“‘I’ve no wish to cause alarm.’ I nodded to de Coste’s empty goblet. ‘But from my vantage, you and your stepfather strike an awfully similar pose.’
“‘Careful, frailblood.’ Aaron glanced at me, his voice dark with malice. ‘You’ve no idea what it was to grow up under that bastard’s roof.’
“‘Silk sheets. Servants hand and foot. I’m sure it was pure torture.’
“‘Know me so well, do you?’
“‘I know you exact, de Coste. You spit at these folk behind their backs, and yet you’re worst of the lot. The nobleborn bratling, above everyone and everything. The only folk you treat worse than the ones around you are the ones beneath you.’
“‘Would it shock you to learn, then, that my first love was a commoner like you?’
“‘Talk about fucking clichés,’ I scoffed. ‘Just because you decided to slum it wi—’
“‘Watch your mouth,’ Aaron slurred, slamming his fist down.
“A few of the gentry turned to stare as the glassware on the table jumped. Aaron gave them a princely smile and raised his glass until they turned back to their own business.
“‘I loved Sacha,’ he hissed. ‘As the ocean loves the sky.’ His gaze returned to the Baron, glittering with rage. ‘And one night my noble stepfather caught us together when he was in his cups. And in his rage at finding me trysting with some lowborn trollop, he took up his tankard and beat me almost to death. But there was no almost for Sacha.’
“I looked to the Baron, aghast. ‘… He killed her?’
“‘I might’ve died too, if not for the blood in my veins. That was the night Mama told me what I was. So don’t you dare compare me to that bastard, de León. Ever.’
“I stared at Aaron; this jealous highborn prick I so despised. I thought we’d nothing in common save the paleblood curse. And yet it seemed, in one more way, that Aaron and I were of accord: we both hated the men who’d raised us.
“Still, I could find little compassion for him. This prick had gotten Sister Aoife murdered for his jealousies. Instead of sympathy, I felt only fury at his hypocrisy.
“‘Be that as it may, de Coste, if Greyhand comes in here and sees you getting ratarsed, he’ll knock you out of your fucking shoes.’
“‘So concerned for my well-being?’ Aaron reached for another goblet. ‘I’m touched.’
“I snatched the wine away. ‘I give no fucks for your well-being, you stuck-up prick. But we’re at Hunt here. Your clumsiness could spell the death of me.’
“‘Oh no. Wouldn’t that be just terrible.’
“‘You’d like that, eh? If our prey saved you the trouble? I know your mind, bastard.’
“Aaron rolled his eyes. ‘God, what are you bleating about now?’
“I hissed, the accusation slipping loose before I could stop it. ‘I saw you.’
“‘Saw me what?’
“Again, I knew it was foolish to unearth this trouble now. But I was furious. And if this cur had it in for me, I wanted to know it for certain. For him to know I knew.
“‘The night I was attacked in the stables by La Cour and those wretched,’ I spat. ‘The night Aoife was murdered. I saw you sneaking out of the Armory like a fucking thief. The same Armory that La Cour escaped from moments later. Coincidence?’
“I saw my words strike home, a sliver of perfect rage piercing Aaron’s eyes. For a moment, I honestly thought he might reach for the silversteel knife in his doublet. I could see it on his face then, sure as God was my witness.
“This bastard wanted to murder me.
“But then …
“Then …
“We felt her.”
IV
RAVEN CHILD
“IT CREPT ON me like sleep at the end of a quiet day. A chill prickling the back of my neck. Aaron felt it too, looking toward that passel of demoiselles. And among them, a figure stood now where none had before, as if conjured from the shadows themselves.
“She was silence. She was dead leaves fallen. She was a blood-red stain, spilling slow across the dance floor and making my heart fall still. The drip of hot wax upon your naked skin. The first flicker of a lover’s tongue into your open, wanting mouth.
“She wore crimson. A long and sweeping gown of lace and corsetry, like a bride all dipped in blood. Her skin wasn’t just painted pale like the women about her, but white and smooth as finest alabaster. Her hair was the red of burning flame, flowing over her bare shoulders and past her slender waist. And she looked about the dancers on the edge of the ballroom’s flickering light, and her eyes were black as the pits of hell.
“‘Almighty God…’ I breathed.
“I’d seen highbloods before, oui. But never the like of her. She drifted among the revelers, bewitching those she turned her attentions upon, passing through others like smoke. Nobody had announced her arrival, and I was struck with the notion that perhaps she’d always been there, waiting, watching. It was impossible to look away from her, but dread filled my belly even as I stared. This thing looked at the folk about her with the dispassion and cruelty that only the understanding of ‘forever’ can bring.
“When she saw us, she didn’t see people. She saw food.
“‘And I beheld a pale maiden,’ came a murmur behind us. ‘Her eyes were black as midnight and her skin as cold as winter, and in her arms, she bore the nightmares of every sleeping babe, every shivering child, come ripe and fulsome unto the waking world.’
“‘And her name was Death,’ Aaron whispered.
“I glanced to Greyhand in the shadows behind us. His pale green eyes were fixed on the newcomer, flooded red by the pipe of sanctus he’d apparently already smoked. ‘The Book of Laments hardly does her justice, does it?’
“‘Nor the tales we’d heard on the road.’ I glanced back to the vampire, my mouth dry as ash. ‘Great Redeemer, I’ve never seen the like.’
“‘Ancien.’ Greyhand nodded. ‘No quarry under heaven more dangerous.’
“Silently, we watched the monster seeping through the crowd, and all the world about her seemed colorless. A pretty fop dropped into a bow before her; a fly inviting a spider to dance. The vampire laughed, allowed the gent to sweep her out onto the floor, utterly oblivious to the peril he was in. Not just his flesh, but his very soul.
“Aaron and I rose to our feet as Talon joined us. The seraph’s cheeks were flushed as he watched the vampire dance, his eyes also blood-red. ‘Almighty God, what a monster.’
“‘Forcing confrontation here…’ Aaron gazed around the ballroom, looking first to his pretty cousin, then to his fair mama. ‘We put every person in this room in danger.’
“‘They are already in danger,’ I replied, eyes still on our quarry.
“‘De Coste is right,’ Talon said, breathing quick. ‘Now I lay eyes upon her … we can provoke no fray here. To dance with such a devil in a crowded hall invites massacre.’
“‘What plan then, Seraph?’ Greyhand asked.
“‘Our Marianne is here to hunt,’ Talon replied, blood-red eyes still on the vampire. ‘We wait. We watch. And when the spider chooses her victim, we follow her back to wherever she spins her web and fall like hammers of God when the sun rises.’
“I frowned at that. ‘We just let her … take one of the guests? Is that not a sin?’
“Greyhand glanced around us, uneasy. ‘De León raises a point, Seraph.’
“‘A good hunter uses the appetites of his prey against them. Want is a weakness. Look at her, Greyhand. This monster is too dangerous to confront in the dark.’
“‘She’ll be less dangerous if we drive her to bed hungry, surely?’ I asked.
“‘Showing our hand here puts everyone at risk, shitblood,’ Talon spat. ‘We must not miss when we strike this blow. Losing one sheep tonight will spare the lives of thousands later. Almighty God will forgive us our trespass.’
“I glanced to Greyhand and saw the notion sat just as ill with my master as it did with me. But Talon was a seraph in the Ordo’s hierarchy, and Greyhand only a frère.
“‘Master…’
“‘The seraph has spoken. You will do as commanded, Initiate.’
“I could taste iron in my mouth. Cold dread pooling in my belly. But I’d disobeyed Greyhand on the Hunt once already, in Skyefall. I dared not do it again. ‘Oui, Master.’
“‘Do you think she’s marked us?’ Aaron asked.
“‘Not yet,’ Greyhand murmured. ‘But standing here like flies around a corpse only invites it. De Coste, head outside where the footmen gather. The coldblood arrived in a hand carriage hauled by one of her thralls—an Ossian fellow with a dark beard. Turn on those Ilon charms of yours and see if you can glean the location of their abode. Press soft. If they know we’ve sniffed them out, they’ll not return home.’
“Aaron nodded, his tongue still slightly slurred. ‘Gentle as lambs, Master.’
“‘De León, watch near the entrance. The seraph and I shall mark the flanks.’
“Talon grabbed my arm as I moved away. ‘Remember, mongrel, this thing is an elder Ironheart. If she even looks your way, mind the lessons I taught you. Think of toil, of tired feet and a domestic’s drudgery. Build a wall of it and hide your secrets within.’
“‘By the Blood, Seraph.’
“I slipped off through the crowd, carrying my empty tray. In truth, I felt sick to my heart. I knew this creature was deadlier than any foe I’d faced; that if we struck at night when she was strongest, she could butcher us all. But the idea that we were baiting our snare with one of these poor painted fools was a stone in my belly.
“I watched the coldblood circle the room, enchanting all about her. These folk had no knowing of the evil among them, instead, drawn toward it like moths to flame. But standing watch by the entrance, I noted another, surveying the ballroom just as I did. A dark-haired youth, a few years younger than I in appearance, clad in black velvet and pearl thread. The one who posed as Marianne’s son, I realized.
“Adrien.
“He was beautiful. Timeless. And as our eyes met, I felt the press of his mind into mine, gentle as a first kiss. It was the strangest sensation—as if cold fingertips brushed my scalp, pushing through the jelly-soft dome of my skull. I crowded my thoughts as Talon had taught me, throwing up complaints about sore feet and the boorish manners of the nobleborn. But the thing’s eyes flickered to my doublet, the weapons beneath. It could tell something was amiss—perhaps not what I was, but certainly that I was no mere sheep.
“He looked to the dance floor, dark eyes fixed on the one who’d made him. And though Marianne Luncóit’s demeanor changed not at all, I saw her exchange a swift glance with her spawn. Something passed between them, and her black eyes fell on me, and I felt her see me, as if I were stripped naked and bare before God Himself.
“Without a word, Adrien was gone, slipping off through the crowd like a knife. I looked to Greyhand, to Seraph Talon, not knowing whether to pursue or stand my ground. Marianne was moving now, a young girl spellbound on her arm, sweeping toward the doors as the guests parted b
efore her like water.
“My master had told me to do nothing but watch. Talon had given express order to follow our quarry to ground. I wanted to prove myself worthy. I wanted to be a brother of the Silver Order, and I knew after my disobedience in Skyefall, the revelation of my strange bloodgifts, I was already dancing on a precipice. But I watched this monster approach, and I saw the lass in her embrace had hair the gold of autumn leaves.
“Aaron’s cousin. Véronique.
“I thought of my sister Amélie then. Of my vow to Astrid that if I could spare one more mother the pain of what mine had suffered, I’d do it gladly. I didn’t want to be a hero. Nor a fool. But neither did I want to become as monstrous as these things we hunted.
“Véronique was barely fifteen. Amélie would have been that age now. Perhaps I could’ve turned away, done what I was fucking told just once if I didn’t know her damned name. But this girl’s whole life lay ahead of her. Or no life at all.
“‘Help me, God,’ I whispered. ‘Help me, please.’
“I felt a heat then, burning and silvered in my hand and upon my chest. And looking down at my palm, I saw my sevenstar had begun to glow. I clung to that spreading warmth, filling my head with prayers to the Almighty. The leech drew closer, and I knew if I stood in her way, she’d shatter me like ice. But I could feel the breath of God upon my neck, silver burning in my skin. Reaching into my doublet, I drew my silversteel dagger, loosed my collar. And I stepped into the vampire’s path, palm out, burning with cold, blue-white light.
“‘Stop. In the Almighty’s name.’
“‘De León!’ Talon roared. ‘Damn you, boy!’
“The vampire narrowed her eyes. The music failed, folk about me gasping. In the pale light blazing from my hand, at my throat, Luncóit somehow seemed not so beautiful anymore. The monster spoke, and I was unsure if her voice rang only in my mind.
“‘No power hath thy Almighty over me, child.’
“Where before I’d felt the soft press of the boything in my mind, now I felt a hammerblow, rummaging in my thoughts. I pushed back, trying to force her out as Greyhand and Talon came on through the crowd. The vampire took one step toward me, and the light in my palm flared so bright it made her flinch. Véronique blinked hard, the spell over her eyes burned away as she shrank in the monster’s iron grip.