Sebastian nods. "Agreed. I'll put the Memory Catcher in our safe. It's immaterial at any rate. But we still need to have these letters analyzed. We need to figure out who wrote them and when."
Elijah steps forward. "Then you'll be needing my assistance."
Sebastian hands them to his brother. Elijah glances at them, then looks at me. "It is too late in the evening for a visit to my contact. But Eve, would you like to join me tomorrow night? It could be educational for you."
"Yes, I would love that, if I'm not needed elsewhere?" I look around, not entirely sure who I'm supposed to get permission or direction from.
Derek speaks first. "That's an excellent idea. You should spend time with each of us, in order to get a complete picture of what we do and what the Otherworld is like. For now, let us all make our way to dinner and then prepare for a good day's rest."
"Where's Dracula?" I ask, as I follow the brothers to the dining room.
"Did he not meet you at his house?" Derek asks.
"No," Sebastian says. "It was just the butler."
"And the cat," I say, with a smile.
Sebastian holds my gaze a moment, then smiles. "And the cat. Eve has quite a way with the felines it seems."
"Speaking of cats," Lily says, coming down the hall towards us, "this little guy has been missing you."
I squeal and hold out my hands for Moon, who nuzzles against me, purring the moment I have him in hand.
"You're not going to bring him to dinner, are you?" Elijah asks, with a frown.
"He needs to eat, too, don't you, little guy?" I say, nuzzling his nose. "Besides, he misses me."
Dinner is a quiet affair. Only Lily, Matilda, and I eat food. The brothers, of course, feast on blood, and Moon enjoys his cat food on a small plate by my feet. No one is much in the mood for talking, though Liam keeps casting suspicions glances at me, for reasons I do not understood. I'm relieved when dinner ends and I retire quickly to my room, exhausted and with much weighing on my mind.
Moon curls up on my lap as I sit in front of the fire with my eyes closed. The heat warms my face and hands, which are perpetually cold from the drafts in the castle. In the distance, I hear the music of a violin playing a haunting melody. My skin buzzes with my flash as the music slides into me, calling me.
Even my kitten takes notice, jumping off my lap and stalking to the door in curiosity.
I stand, wrapping myself in the knit blanket from my chair, and follow the notes through the halls. I feel a presence behind me and turn, expecting to see Lily or Matilda, but no one is there.
I keep walking, and again, I feel like I'm being watched, or followed. I turn again and catch the hint of a white dress turning the corner. I follow it, calling out, but when I look, no one is there.
Perplexed, I resume my hunt for the beautiful music and find myself before a heavy door that is slightly ajar. I knock softly, though I am loathe to interrupt the masterful playing.
The door creaks open just enough for me to see inside.
I am stunned to see the man behind the magical music is none other than the hot-headed Liam Night, bane of my existence and perpetual pain in my neck…literally.
Emotions of irritation and admiration war in me as his music sucks me in. His body sways in time to the melody, his eyes are closed, his concentration solely on his instrument. He is naked and his muscular upper body glints in the silver light of the Dragon's Breath shining through the large window that he is silhouetted against. He works his violin like a true master, coaxing each note out like a lover bringing his partner to climax.
I want to turn away and leave, to put as much distance between me and this arrogant bastard as possible, but his music has paralyzed me. I feel rooted in place, transfixed by the complex emotions this unfamiliar piece evokes.
When the song ends, the silence comes slowly as the last notes fades into nothing. I'm brought back to myself and flush a scarlet red as I turn to leave, but I am not fast enough.
He opens his eyes and sees me before I can make my escape.
"Stop. Why are you here?" he growls, holding his violin in his left hand, the bow in his right, as he stalks over to me. He seems unconcerned with his nudity, but I don't know where to let my eyes land.
I know where they want to land.
"I heard someone playing and wanted to be closer to the music," I say, hating how dwarfed I feel by him.
He doesn't seem to know what to do with that answer, so he turns away.
That just gives me another enticing view I shouldn't be noticing.
"What piece was that?" I ask, not sure why I want to continue this conversation as I force my eyes to stay on his upper back and no lower.
"Something I wrote," he says reluctantly, and my heart thumps loudly in my chest at this unexpected tenderness that arises in him when he plays.
"It's beautiful," I tell him honestly. "I'm sorry to bother you. I'll leave you be."
"Wait," he says, turning. He frowns, staring at me. "Do you really not know?"
"Not know what?" I ask.
"What you are?"
I gulp, unhappy with the direction this conversation is taking. "I'm human. A mundane, as you call it. Haven't I been reminded of that often enough?"
"But you aren't really, are you? At least not fully. You could read our ad."
"Yes. That's been established."
He puts his violin on its stand and hangs the bow, then turns and walks towards me. My kitten meows and hides behind my legs as Liam comes so close I can feel his breath on my face. His body emanates heat and his eyes burn with barely contained passions, though for pleasure or pain it's hard to tell. I've only experienced pain from him thus far.
"You could not have read our ad as a mundane. I do not know why you smell like one," he says, leaning in to inhale my neck, his mouth a hair's width from the vein pulsing in my neck. "But I have tasted you, Eve Oliver. You are no human. There is power in you. Deep and dark and wild. You are dangerous," he says, his voice a low growl. "Who sent you?"
"Who sent me?" I ask, repeating his question. "No one. You did. I don't know. Fate, if you will."
He steps back, his eyes narrowing on me suspiciously. "You confound me. And I do not like to be confounded."
"I don't like to be bitten against my will. I guess life is just rough sometimes, isn't it?" The sass is back in my voice, naturally. Because that's never made a problem worse.
"You are guileless. Which makes you innocent of your own heritage. Or extremely well-trained in the art of subterfuge." His golden eyes bore into mine as if trying to read my soul.
"Um, I'm gonna go with guileless, I think. That seems the safest bet." I bite my lip as something comes to me. "How do you know I'm not mundane? Because you drank me? How did that tell you anything? What do you think I am, if you don't believe me?"
"You are nothing I have tasted before, so I cannot give you a name. But I know power when I taste it. I have been feeling it within me since that moment. And it is showing no signs of fading. If other vampires knew what effect you could have on them, you would be served up as the appetizer and main course at an all-you-can-eat vampire buffet. There wouldn't be enough left of you to identify."
His words send shivers up my spine, and I steel myself against the implied threat, but he's not finished yet.
"You need to figure out who you are before someone else figures it out first. The Otherworld isn't a safe place for someone who tastes like you. Watch your back."
"Yeah, well, thanks for the warning, I guess. I'll be sure to keep an eye out for hordes of vampires wanting to drain me. I'm sure that heads up will be all I need to rise victorious over beings that much stronger, faster and more powerful than me." The sarcasm drips from my voice, and though I am grateful for the warning and knowledge, I'm annoyed at how useless it is. If vampires want me, at the end of the day—or night, rather—there's not much I can do to stop them.
At least…nothing I know of. But what if there are more things I don't
know? Because that's absolutely true. There's a shit ton I don't know and that lack of knowledge could get me killed.
I know who I have to talk to.
Liam has already turned his back on me as he picks up his violin and prepares to play again—still naked as the day he was born. Vampires clearly have no modesty. Or this one doesn't, at any rate.
I avert my eyes and slink out of the room closing the door firmly behind me before his music pulls me back.
I search deep within myself for a pulse or flash of some kind to help me figure out where I can find Grandmother Matilda. But it turns out, I don't need a flash. Moon is already on the trail, and so I follow the tiny thing until we reach the old woman's suite. I knock once and the door opens of its own will.
Matilda is leaning over the fire, stirring something in an iron pot. "Come in, and close the door, my dear. The hallways are always so drafty. I keep telling the boys to upgrade the ventilation system, but they are always too busy."
She speaks as she stirs, and Moon and I walk over to her. "I'm sorry to bother so late, but—"
"You have questions," she says, standing and turning, wiping her hands on a black apron around her waist. "So many questions, buzzing around in your mind like a swarm of wasps."
She gets two soup bowls with handles and fills them both, handing one to me. I sniff it and smile. "Apple cider?"
She nods and sits in one of the chairs before the fire, gesturing for me to do the same.
Her suite is one very large room, where her desk, bookshelves, work shelves, bed, wardrobe, small dining table and chairs all share space.
"Take a seat, dear. It's time we talked."
I do as I'm instructed and sip on the cider, enjoying the sweet, earthy taste of it.
"When Liam bit me, he said he could tell that I'm not entirely human, but he doesn't know what I am. Do you?"
Matilda stares into the fire, as if it holds the answers to all the questions. The fire makes me think of Liam, of the warmth of his body, the way his muscles moved as he played his violin in an almost feverish trance.
When she speaks again, it is with a different voice. Matilda but not Matilda. A prophetic voice. A voice that gives me chills. A voice I know will haunt my dreams.
Her eyes are alight with the flames of the fires as she says, "Beneath the silence of the golden bell the wolf will hunt the lamb and the stones will feed on the blood that freely flows."
The Ex
like a black rose, her darkness was beautifully fatal.
~ e. corona
Matilda and I sit in silence, drinking our cider, for a long while. I think over her words but cannot put voice to the many questions running through me. I'm too tired. Too weary of the way everyone speaks in puzzles. I'm not even sure they realize they're doing it. To them, this is how one communicates. To me, it's utterly maddening.
When I return to my room, I intend to go straight to sleep, but the image of Liam playing the violin has me enthralled. Blood rises to my cheeks as I remember him as he looked, standing against the lights of the Dragon's Breath, his full body on display.
I can't get him out of my head, so I pull out my sketchbook and begin to draw.
I use shading and smudging to capture the contoured muscles of his chest and the movement of his body as he allows the music to consume him. I draw with intricate detail, with thought to motion and sound. His power, his rage, his fire and passion, all captured in the intensity of his expression and the way he holds his instrument, as if speaking through his music, pouring parts of himself into it.
I study it once it's complete, sucking in my breath. I can practically hear his music as I look at the drawing.
Once the image is out of my system, I crash into bed and sleep restlessly, haunted by dreams and visions and voices of doom. I rise several hours later with bags under my eyes and knots in my hair from tossing and turning.
There is a hot bath drawn for me when I rise, filled with the same scented oils I used before. Once again, I'm perplexed. I locked my door. No one could have gotten in.
This castle is starting to creep me out.
I'm not hungry, so instead of going to the kitchen after bathing, I head to the library and retrieve the letters we found in Mary's room. We never asked Dracula about them and going on a gut instinct and a bit of my flash, I decide it's best I talk to him alone.
His relationship with the brothers is too complicated. None of them are seeing each other clearly.
I remember the suite Matilda was preparing for Dracula's arrival, and I head there, my hands sweating from nerves.
I find the legendary vampire sitting before a grand piano, his long, tapered fingers gliding over the keys, playing a sad, melancholy song in a minor key. It's haunting, and I pause, not wanting to disturb him. When he finishes, his shoulders slump forward and he seems lost in his own grief. I knock gently, and he turns sharply, all signs of sadness gone. In its place is a cold curiosity as he studies me.
"Miss Oliver, do come in. I had hoped we would have a moment alone together at some point."
I pause, momentarily regretting my impulsiveness in coming here alone. But then I force myself to step forward. After Jerry, I vowed to myself I'd never let another man intimidate me again.
That includes Dracula.
Smiling, I take a seat in a comfortable chair by the fire. He sits across from me and pours himself a goblet of blood. "I would offer you something to drink, but… "
"I'm good," I say, wrinkling my nose. "I just had a question for you, if you don't mind."
"By all means," he says, leaning back elegantly as he sips at his drink.
He has a regal stillness about him that sets my nerves on edge. I pull out the letters and place them before him. "Have you ever seen these?" I ask.
He takes them and studies them, frowning as he does. "No. Why? Where did you get them?"
I gulp, nervous about his response. "From Mary's room."
He sets the papers down and stares into the fire, saying nothing, offering nothing.
"Do you think Mary was cheating on you?" I ask outright.
His response surprises me. "I am not an easy man to love. I know this. Especially for one such as Mary."
"What do you mean, one such as her? A human?"
He steers his gaze towards me. "Yes. Being human is part of it. Humans have a different moral compass than those of us who are immortal. Life has a different flavor when it only lasts a few short years. To us, time is immaterial. But more than that, Mary was a sensitive soul. She could not always handle the peril inherent in the Otherworld."
"Did you never think to turn her?" I ask.
"Of course. She was the love of my life. But we wanted a child together," he says. "If she were vampire, we would not be able to have one. I was going to turn her after our son was born. We would have spent eternity together."
His voice cracks at the end of that, and he turns away, schooling his face into something unreadable.
"I'm so sorry for your loss," I say, standing. "I'll leave you in peace. Thank you for answering my questions."
He doesn't speak again as I leave the room and head downstairs in search of Elijah. We're meant to see his contact tonight about the letters. Hopefully they can shed more light on the mystery or at least turn us towards another potential suspect. Reasonable doubt. Even in the Otherworld, that's all we need.
Derek joins me as I look over the other paperwork we have on the case.
"Anything come to you?" he asks.
I tell him about my conversation with Dracula and he frowns. "That was risky, but brave. And useful, I suppose. He doesn't talk very openly to us."
Matilda comes in, interrupting us. "You have a visitor. The prosecution is here with a settlement offer. In the sitting room."
My heart thumps against my chest as I follow Derek down the hall.
I haven’t heard anything about the prosecution yet, and I have no idea what to expect. Another type creature I’ve yet to meet?
<
br /> I'm imagining all manner of creature. Gnomes. Giants. Sprites and fairies.
I'm not expecting a beautiful tall blond woman. Her hair is perfectly kept; not a single strand out of place. So, too, is the rest of her; from her makeup to her nails to her perfectly schooled expression of irritation for the job she's come to do. Unlike most women that I've seen in the Otherworld, she's wearing a style more suited to the men. Trousers and a cloak. She nods to Derek and then glances at me with a frown.
"Moira, this is Eve Oliver, our Managing Director. Eve, this is Moira Van Helsing, lead prosecutor on Vlad's case," Derek says, by way of introduction.
"Van Helsing?" I say. "As in the Van Helsings?"
"Yes," Moira says, with such force it feels like a slap. "Now, if we can get onto business? Derek, I come with an offer. A generous one, I might add," she says, with clear distaste.
"I take it this wasn't your idea," Derek replies, with a chuckle.
She glares at him. "You know it wasn't. But I'm forced to make the offer. If Dracula pleads guilty and surrenders his holdings to the council, his punishment will be reduced to ten thousand years underground rather than all of eternity.”
Derek laughs sarcastically. "Only ten thousand years. How truly generous. You know my client will never agree to it."
"I hope he doesn't," she says, "because we've got him by the balls and I'd personally like to see him pay."
"I'll relay the offer at any rate," Derek says, ignoring her last comment. "Is there anything else?"
"No, that was all. You have until tomorrow to accept."
"Duly noted," he says. "May I escort you out?"
"I can find my own way," she says, stalking out of the sitting room and heading straight for the front door.
Once she's gone, I turn to face Derek as we head back to the library. "Maybe we should advise him to take it," I say reluctantly.
He raises an eyebrow. "You don't think we can win?"
"With what we currently have? I'm not confident."
He smiles. "Maybe this will boost your confidence, then. We've received word from Vlad's ex-wife. She's agreed to meet with us. Vlad is sure she'll be an excellent character witness."
I Am the Wild (The Night Firm Book 1) Page 14