Ivy: Daughter of Alice

by J. A. Armitage

  “What happened to her?” I asked.

  Raven swallowed, unable to take his eyes from the painting, though he seemed a long way away. “I was in the workshop, designing a new hat. Something special - a surprise for my mother’s birthday. I heard a scuffle downstairs. At first, I just thought it was my brothers being foolish. Then there was a scream.

  “I ran downstairs to see what had happened. I found my father, and my brothers and sisters lying on the floor. My mother was hunched over them. Blood poured from her chin. When she looked up at me, her eyes were red. All I could see were the long fangs dripping with blood.”

  I gasped. “She’d been turned into a vampire?”

  Raven nodded. “The Queen turned her. She said it was too terrible to think of my mother’s beauty fading with age. This way, she would be beautiful forever. When my mother saw me standing in the doorway, she leaped on me with a strength and speed that shocked me. Her fangs were deep into my throat before I knew what was happening.”

  “But she didn’t kill you?”

  Raven shook his head. “Maybe because her thirst was already sated on the blood of my father and my siblings. Or maybe because I’d had the foresight to grab a club as I came downstairs. In any case, I survived to become a vampire myself. While the rest of my family perished.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say. I stood, staring at the aloof beauty of the woman and wondered how long it had tortured her, knowing she’d killed her own family.

  “Does she live still?” I asked.

  Raven shook his head. “It takes a lot to kill a vampire, and it rarely happens, but it is possible.” He hesitated. “I killed her. In vengeance for what she did to the rest of my family. It took a long time for me to learn how to do it. During that time, my mother tried to apologize. She tried justifying her actions as driven by bloodlust. She tried to explain that she, herself, was tortured by the lives she’d taken. I wouldn’t hear of it. The night I killed her, I swore that I would never again drink from a human. I would neither kill them nor turn them into a vampire. He wrenched his eyes from the painting. “So, you see, Ivy, you don’t need to be afraid of me.”

  He stared at me, his eyes seemed to droop, and they’d lost their sparkle. When he looked at me, it was as though his eyes were pleading with me, vulnerable and exposed. For what? I wasn’t sure.

  I crossed my arms across my waist, hugging myself, partly to stop myself from reaching out to him to smooth the sadness from his face.

  I thought about how close I’d come to losing Pearl, and it tore strips from my heart. Raven had lost his whole family in a moment because he’d been a little too slow to react to their screams. Or perhaps it had already been too late then. How would I cope without Alice? Sure, she was busy with ruling The Forge, but she’d raised us, cared for us, and loved us. I couldn’t imagine life without her. I certainly couldn’t imagine being so angry with her that I would kill her. Then, the thoughts of Alice reminded me of why I was here.

  “You won’t harm humans, yet you’re planning to attack my mother?” I said.

  Raven’s mouth dropped open. “What? No—”

  “That’s why you wanted information about her movements. Dr. Lapin said you needed someone who was close to her, who knew her habits and her whereabouts. That’s the real reason you left me that card, isn’t it?”

  “No,” Raven said. He spoke quietly, but that one word was imbibed with so much force that I stepped back. I waited for him to say something more, but as I waited, I felt the truth of it settle in my stomach. Without knowing exactly how, I knew he was telling the truth.

  When I didn’t reply, Raven let his eyes drop from my face, and his shoulders rounded as he stared at the floor. “This is what you think of me—that I’m a bloodthirsty killer, and a black-mailer, as well?”

  My heart tugged, and before I knew it, I reached out for his elbow to stop him from moving away.

  “I’m sorry. About your family, and your mother,” I whispered. My heart hammered in my chest as I took a step closer to Raven. He lifted his head and stared at me, eyes widening in surprise.

  The vulnerability was still written all over his face, but instead of sadness, there was a sense of hope. Standing before me, he didn’t seem like a century-old vampire. He seemed like a young man, his confident demeanor stripped away, uncertain about what to do next.

  I felt a pull toward him, as though there was a tether at my chest, connecting me to him. The feeling was so strong that I could barely breathe. I took another step to stand in front of him, aware of his body so close to mine.

  I looked up, directly into his eyes, tilting my head toward his. My breath caught in my throat, as I realized I’d been in this moment before.

  In my dreams.

  I almost laughed. I’d been wrong—my dreams hadn’t been warning me of a vampire attack but preparing me for this moment.

  Without words, I knew Raven had been telling the truth—he wasn’t going to hurt me. He wasn’t trying to use me to hurt my family.

  Raven bent slowly toward me, and his fangs glinted in the light of the candlelit chandelier. This time, I wasn’t afraid of him.

  This time, I wanted him to be closer to me.

  He hesitated, barely a millimeter away from me. I yearned for the touch of his lips on mine.

  I pushed up onto my toes, closing the tiny space, to press my lips against his.

  Throne of Cards

  1

  26th August

  Candlelight flickered from the chandelier that hung above us, casting an orange light over Raven’s black hair. We sat on the couch facing each other, the fingers of my hands entwined in his, while I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his face.

  Around us, the walls were overlaid with dark wood paneling and windows obscured by heavy, embroidered curtains, as though the room was retreating to give us some privacy. Only the glowing embers in the fireplace were a sign of the passing of the night.

  He was staring at me with a sense of wonder, and the seriousness was wiped from his expression as he gave me a shy smile.

  “When I first sought you out, I assumed you were a rich, spoiled, young lady. When I started to get to know you—when I understood how wrong I’d been—I developed feelings for you, but I never dreamed you might return them.” Raven gave my fingers a squeeze as he smiled wide enough to show his fangs. A blush warmed my cheeks, and I leaned forward to lightly brush his lips with a kiss.

  “I was afraid of you,” I admitted.

  Raven chuckled. “I noticed. When did you stop feeling afraid?”

  I ran my hand over the smooth leather of the couch as I tried to remember the exact point when my feelings had changed. “I’m not sure,” I started. “I feared you, at first, then my feelings became more…complicated. I’m not sure whether I was afraid of you or afraid of my feelings when I was around you.”

  Raven ran a finger under the line of my chin, turning my face up to look at him.

  “Are you afraid of me now?”

  With my free hand, I reached forward to brush the strands of hair that fell over his temples. It was so soft, like feathers against my skin. Then, emboldened, I ran my finger across his forehead, down the side of his face, and over his lips. He opened his mouth, showing his fangs, and I touched the tip of one sharp tooth with my fingertip. The point of his fang pressed against my skin, but I didn’t push hard enough to draw blood. Raven froze and didn’t move until I removed my hand from his mouth and lay it over his cheek.

  “If you’d wanted to drink my blood, you could have done it by now,” I whispered.

  Raven reached an arm around my waist and pulled me closer. “I want you,” he said, pressing his forehead against mine and closing his eyes, “but not like that.”

  My eyes widened at his suggestion, and I sucked in a breath, finding it suddenly more difficult to breathe. Though we’d spent the night together, and into the early hours of the next morning, we’d sat close to each other, touched each other, and whispered in th
e firelight, but he’d not pushed his advantage over me. He’d been a gentleman.

  Raven chuckled. “I can hear your heart racing from here,” he whispered, his breath tickling my ear. “Thundering like the hooves of a racehorse.”

  He shifted away from me, moving only fractionally, but putting space between our bodies. “It is very late. Perhaps it is time for me to take you home. Before day breaks.”

  “Not yet,” I said, and reached out to cup his face with both of my hands. I pulled him back towards me and kissed him. Our lips touched, lightly, then I pressed toward him, taking the kiss deeper. I wrapped my arms around his neck, erasing the distance between us. I teased his lips with my teeth, then ran my tongue over the sharp edge of his fangs. He held himself back for a moment, then his hands were at my waist, pulling me closer so that I was flush against him.

  I was breathing hard, my chest heaving against my corsets. I ran my fingers through the softness of his hair. His hands moved from my waist to my arms, trailing his fingertips up them until he reached my shoulders. Then he was touching my hair and running his fingers down the length of my back.

  In the next moment, he was pulling away again. Raven stood up and moved away to stand next to the fireplace.

  “Ivy,” he said, his eyes sliding over to me, pupils dilated with desire. “I should take you home.”

  I took a deep breath, staring down at my hands as I smoothed my skirts. Then, teasing, I looked up at him under my eyelashes and bit my lip. The candles had burned down to stumps, and a slither of light peeped out of the edge of the curtains. I frowned.

  “Too late,” I whispered and felt a stab of disappointment. “The night is already over.”

  “Spades,” Raven whispered, frowning as he looked at the curtains covering the windows. He strode over to flick at the edge of the heavy fabric, making sure to stay in the shadows. “You’re right.”

  Raven held out a hand to help me to my feet. He pressed a kiss to the back of my hand. “My lady,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I regret that I must let you make your own way home.” He squeezed my hand as he looked me in the eye. “Be careful. Remember—the Queen is returning.”

  My eyes widened as I remembered why I’d come to see him in the first place. “I wanted to ask you about that. About the Hearts, the Pinnacle clock. You said it was connected—”

  “It is. The city is awaking and coming alive, like an animal, but, like my own kind, it has no beating heart. I smell the fear in this city, and not only among mortals. Even my kind is afraid, and it takes a great evil to scare a vampire.” He ran a finger underneath my chin again. “Be careful,” he murmured, then smiled. “But do not be afraid, my love. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  I bounced into Chesh’s workshop on my way home, arriving so early that I arrived before the shop was open. Chesh eyes widened in surprise, then I noticed him quickly run his gaze over me. I was smiling broadly—I’d been grinning since I’d left Raven’s house to make my way across the city towards home. When I’d rounded the corner and seen the Emporium, I’d made an impulse decision to stop by and see my friend.

  “You wore those clothes yesterday,” Chesh remarked. For once, he wasn’t smiling. “Are you alright?”

  I laughed loudly, smiling so hard that my cheeks started to hurt. “I’m wonderful. This day is wonderful. Everything is wonderful—wouldn’t you agree?”

  Chesh’s frown deepened, and he looked me over again. “Are you drunk?”

  I put my hands on my hips and good-naturedly rolled my eyes at him. “Of course, not. I’m just happy. And why shouldn’t I be?” I clasped my hands together and looked up at my oldest friend from underneath my eyelashes. “I think I’m in love.”

  He froze, staring at me with wide eyes. A hopeful expression passed over his face.

  “Ivy, I—”

  “I know, it’s too soon,” I went on. “We’ve only known each other for a week. We’ve barely spent any time together…”

  Chesh’s expression darkened. He turned back and slammed one of his tools down on the workbench.

  “But he understands me,” I continued, barely noticing Chesh’s behavior. “He understands how I feel about the aesthetic—”

  “Spades!” Chesh spun around. “Ivy, listen to yourself! Your sister is recovering from a dreadful attack, the city is in crisis, and your mother is stressed and upset. Yet, you’ve been out all night with a man, and now, you think you’re in love?”

  I blinked, surprised by Chesh’s reaction. The smile slipped from my face as his words brought back the events of the previous day. I started to shake my head when he crossed his arms over his chest and glared at me. “You’ve never spoken of this man before. Are you keeping secrets from me now? I believed I meant more to you than that?”

  My mouth fell open. “I have told you about him. Mr. Cappello, the owner of Cappello’s Finest Hats. I told you—”

  “A vampire?” Chesh’s mouth fell open. He ran a hand through his hair, making the tight curls stand up on end like the mane of a lion. “You’re not serious?” Chesh’s expression softened, and he laughed. “You’re joking.”

  I gritted my teeth. “What’s so funny?”

  “You’re not joking.” Chesh’s face fell again. “What are you thinking? You can’t really be considering a relationship with a vampire. To say nothing of the scandal it would cause for your mother and your sister, but the danger you put yourself in…”

  “Mr. Cappello is not dangerous,” I whispered.

  “He’s a vampire. He drinks blood—human blood.” Chesh turned his back to me again, shaking his head in anger and exasperation. “You told me yesterday that you’ve discovered a problem with the blood banks withholding blood from the vampire population. Where is he getting his blood from?”

  I shook my head, pressing my mouth into a thin line. The fog of a sleepless night started to close in on me, and I couldn’t think of how to answer him. Deep inside, I knew I didn’t need to be afraid of Raven, but could I deny Chesh’s statement? I remembered the reason I’d visited Raven in the first place, but I’d been distracted from finding out. Did Raven have that much power over me?

  Chesh picked up a tool from his bench. His head hung low, and his shoulders slumped. I felt deflated at the sight of him, and suddenly I just wanted to be at home. I turned towards the door and pulled it open.

  “Wait!” Chesh spun around at the tinkle of the bell over the door. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you—I’m sorry. Please, don’t go.” His footsteps came up behind me and he put a hand on my shoulder to stop me from leaving. I closed my eyes as I felt his hand on the place where Raven’s had been, so lovingly, only an hour before. I didn’t turn around, but I didn’t leave, either. “I’ve been working on something. Want to see it?”

  I took a shaky breath, fatigue folding around me like a blanket, but I didn’t want to reject his peace offering. I nodded.

  Chesh took my hand and lead me around his workshop, talking ceaselessly about the changes he’d made to his machines. We ended up at the flying machine he’d shown me the last time I’d been in his workshop. He still hadn’t been able to get it working, but he started to explain an idea he had about why it couldn’t sustain flight for more than a few seconds.

  I nodded every time he paused for breath, but barely heard a word of what he was saying.

  Chesh’s reaction at my good news had wounded me, and the heady excitement I’d felt when I’d left Raven’s place had drained away to leave me feeling low, as though I was dragging myself through a fog.

  “Ivy?” Chesh asked. He sighed when I looked up. He’d been trying to get my attention for a few moments. “May I take you to breakfast?” he asked. “You look like you’re about to faint.”

  All I wanted to go was to curl up into my bed, but I nodded, then found myself being steered out of Chesh’s workshop and towards the nearest teahouse.

  I pushed at the runny eggs on my plate with my fork, but I was so tired that my app
etite had disappeared. Chesh hadn’t stopped talking since we’d sat down at the table in the front window. It was a cozy establishment, with lights that hung low from the ceiling, casting spotlights over small tables. A small bunch of flowers in a vase decorated the table between us, and flecks of bright orange pollen dusted the tablecloth, giving off a faint smell of rot.

  As he talked, Chesh glanced at me every few moments. The smile was back on his face, but it was forced.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed every one of the places in the teahouse was occupied. Each table was laden with food, and people chatted and laughed as they ate. Several tables were being cleared, the food less than half-eaten. Every person was dressed to perfection, with matching hats, coats, gloves, and bags. Once the gloves and hats were removed, I knew they would likely be tossed into the back of the wardrobe—worn, seen, old—never to be used again.

  Were any of these people aware of the poverty underneath their city? I imagined the wasted faces of the people in the tunnels, as though they were pressed up against the windows of the teahouse, stomach’s grumbling as they saw food go to waste.

  A tinkling sound made my head snap back until I was looking at Chesh, who set down his knife and fork on the plate, which was wiped clean.

  “You’ve barely touched yours,” Chesh said. He reached over to touch my hand. I withdrew it from the table and clasped my hands in my lap. A slight frown creased his forehead. “Are you unwell?”

  “I’m just tired,” I murmured.

  Chesh leaned forward. “I would be more than happy to put myself at your disposal and assist you in cleaning your plate.” He winked.