by Lana Sky
Sighing, I held the receiver to my ear, prepared to humor her. “I hope the test results came back conclusive this time—”
“Hello?” someone replied and I nearly dropped the handset in response. He was… Well, he was male. “May I speak to Ms. Gray?”
I held my breath, my fingers tightening over the rim of a nearby table as a single thought set in. Not him. I was still sane enough to know that much.
This caller wasn’t an ageless figure with a musical baritone and a laugh like the devil. Considering I wasn’t the type to get phone calls from strange men, there was only one explanation for this occurrence.
“I’m sorry,” I stammered. “Georgie isn’t here. However, I could take a message if you’d like.” Though only God knew when she might receive it.
“I beg your pardon,” the man replied. “But I’m looking for Eleanor Gray.”
My eyes narrowed. “Why?” Rudeness, aside, it was a valid question. No one ever asked for me. Certainly not by name. Unless, of course, they had souls to buy and sell.
Or money for whoring themselves to an heiress.
“My name is Gabriel Lanic.” His suave tone betrayed him as someone used to schmoozing with the upper class. “I’m the chairman of the board of directors at St. Mary’s—”
“Oh, y-yes,” I croaked, fighting to stamp the suspicion from my tone. “How can I help you?”
“I heard from one of our doctors that you were interested in becoming a core donor?”
Color me impressed; despite such a bold assumption, Mr. Gabriel Lanic managed to sound more charming than money hungry.
“Um, I was,” I admitted. “To be honest, I was more interested in learning more about the board members—”
“I’m afraid that I wouldn’t be able to divulge much out of respect for privacy.”
“Oh, I see—”
“To the typical donor, anyway,” he added, before my disappointment could solidify. “Frankly, Ms. Gray, your family name carries a prestige I cannot deny. While I may not be able to divulge much, no one could blame me if a few details managed to slip over dinner. How does eight o’clock sound?”
“D-Dinner?” I gagged at the thought of food, smelling it, seeing it. However, the promise of answers was more than enough to combat the nausea. For now. As long as Mr. Lanic proved my hunch once and for all, he could set a meeting wherever he damn well pleased. “That sounds fine. I mean, y-yes. I mean…”
“I hope you are partial to Italian. The Maria is excellent,” he said.
Thick red sauce came to mind and I cringed at the imagery. Still, I managed to choke out, “Wonderful. See you there.”
Four hours later, I left the house looking somewhat presentable. For the first time in days, I’d brushed my hair. I even put on a dress, a demure black one my mother had picked out, complete with a modest neckline. When I joined François in the Rolls, I almost felt…at ease?
My stomach was in knots during the quick trip into the city, but for an entirely different reason than usual. Excitement? Hope? Who knew. The only thing I was sure of, as the car pulled up before an exclusive restaurant downtown, was that if Mr. Lanic could give me the answer I wanted, then he could slap his name on Gray Manor for all I cared.
Two words. That’s all he had to say. A name. Validation of my paranoid delusion. Evidence to out the man so proud of his own damn mystery that he’d never see me coming.
My blood hummed as I stepped from the car and approached the restaurant’s gleaming front. A tendril of unease raced down my spine though I couldn’t explain why. It was beyond breathtaking as far as venues went. Glass doors revealed a posh interior, but a man appeared to block my path before I could even make it inside. A professional black suit and tie separated him from the wealthy patrons mingling within the establishment behind him. Given how he cocked his head toward the earpiece tucked inconspicuously behind his ear, I suspected he had been sent to escort me personally.
“Ms. Gray, I presume?” he asked, proving my suspicion correct. “Your companion is waiting. May I show you to your table?”
I nodded, following him inside. A spacious lobby opened onto an intimate space beyond the main dining room with bold burgundy walls and polished floors. Such an obscene display of wealth. My mother would faint at the sight.
Mr. Lanic had gone all out in the hopes of impressing his prey—only one table had been set, strategically placed in the center of the room. No other patrons were dining nearby.
We were alone.
My chest tightened as I spotted the lone creature waiting for me in the center of the room. His back was to me, his build impressive. His hair…black? Not golden.
Disappointment fluttered through my chest as his voice reached back to me.
“Ms. Gray.” He turned in a display of poise, flashing a gallant smile no vampire would ever be able to imitate. “I am Gabriel Lanic. Pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise,” I croaked, regaining control of my senses.
So, he wasn’t Dublin Helos, mysterious benefactor extraordinaire, though he rivaled him in charm. A warm smile offset his handsome Roman features. Dressed to the nines in a tailored gray suit, he didn’t seem like the type who’d sold his soul for money and prestige, either. I sensed no air of ice, and the hand he extended for me to shake was warm.
As far as my past year was concerned, he was a rare entity—a handsome, rich human.
“Care to join me?” He nodded toward the table.
Silently, I took the seat across from him, and he offered me a business card laden with his personal information.
“Shall we begin?” He’d come prepared, apparently, armed with enough history on the hospital and its various charity enterprises to charm a room full of donors into emptying their pockets. Never once did he mention trading in souls or the like. Instead, he listed target figures and waxed ad nauseam as to the reputation of my family.
So generous we were.
So honorable.
Lies, but delivered so expertly I almost believed them.
“I would be more than honored to receive your investment, Ms. Gray,” he concluded. “I would hate to seem forward, but have I managed to woo you?”
He winked, and like a good wealthy checkbook, I reached into my purse on command. It was only as my fingers ran over a brittle piece of parchment that I remembered the question that had brought me here in the first place.
“Your donor list,” I blurted, brandishing my brochure opened to the right page. “There’s one figure listed by only his initials. Can you tell me his name?”
He leaned forward and brushed his hand over mine while he read. “Why, I believe that is Donald Hildrand,” he said with a pleasant laugh, sitting back. “He tends to be too mysterious for his own good. I could arrange for you to meet him if that would put you at ease, though I would be loath to share your company—”
“No.” I shook my head and swallowed down the lump that had risen in my throat. “That’s not necessary.”
Somehow, I had known, even before he’d delivered his answer, that it wouldn’t be what I wanted to hear. No, perhaps wanted was too strong a word. What I needed to hear. That was how paranoid delusions tended to work out, didn’t they?
One healthy dose of reality could make it all fall apart.
“Have I disappointed you, Ms. Gray?” Mr. Lanic wondered. He reached out, his fingertips sweeping upward to bat a loose strand of hair from my face. He must have misjudged the distance, because the tip of his thumb grazed my throat instead.
I flinched back, shaking my head. “No. In fact—” I withdrew my checkbook and scribbled a one in the farthest corner of the amount line. Meeting Mr. Lanic’s inquiring gaze, I pushed the check toward him. “Forget I asked. All that matters now is…how many zeros should I add onto this figure?”
Once the poor man returned his eyes back to his skull, I wrote the amount he requested without a second thought. After all, if I were dying, at least my family’s name might grace some bench or fo
untain at St. Mary’s to commemorate our benevolent nature. I choked out a laugh, picturing it. It was the only legacy my family could hope I’d pass on. No children or heirs to carry on the name, but an inscription: From the gracious Gray Family to the whole of the city…
“Ms. Gray? Are you all right?”
“Huh?” I looked up to find Mr. Lanic staring at the pristine tablecloth in front of me.
Or, at least it had been pristine. Three ruby drops now decorated the space beside my plate.
“I’m f-fine.” I scrambled to my feet, snatching my checkbook from the table. “I should go—”
“What on Earth?” Lanic frowned, his gaze on something behind me. “I apologize. I insisted upon privacy.”
“What?” I turned, catching a glimpse of an intruder, who was already storming out through the doorway, their posture more confident than the average server. Bolder. Not to mention that they allowed the door to slam in their wake, which rattled the wooden frame. Perhaps the restaurant owner coming to bill me for the damage?
No. What little of his features I saw were too impressive for the average man. A luxury suit. Golden hair. Skin like ivory. And a spicy, wintry scent that lingered in the air, tainting my every breath. Either tall, blond men in Armani were becoming a regular occurrence or…
God, it was too dangerous a word to process at the moment. Or.
“I was assured this was a premier venue,” Lanic groused. “I can have the manager move us to a more private—”
“I-I have to go.” I lunged for the door, aware of movement behind me.
“Ms. Gray?” From the corner of my eye, I saw Gabriel start to stand. “Wait!”
I was already in the lobby within seconds, gasping for air. My rib cage had a vise grip on my lungs. My legs were jelly. I almost turned back in search of a chair before I made a fool of myself and fainted.
Obviously, I’d hallucinated.
As if to challenge that thought, the sound of a slamming car door brought my attention to the valet out front. A man was climbing into a car: black, sleek, imported, and most definitely expensive. I couldn’t see the owner’s face through the tinted windows as I staggered from The Maria’s entrance. He drove off, and I had only enough sense to race toward my own vehicle, parked paces away.
“Ms. Gray?” François gaped as I clambered into the front seat.
Then I spit out the most words I’d spoken to him since the day he’d been hired. “Follow that damn car or I will drive this thing myself!”
Already, our quarry had pulled off and woven through traffic nearly a block ahead.
“Okay.” François wrenched on the wheel, launching into a pursuit. For all his politeness, my new driver must have driven more than spoiled heiresses in his day. People who valued reckless speed. He tore through alleys and side streets, easily narrowing the distance between us and our prey.
But even he wasn’t fast enough.
“Damn!” He slapped the wheel as the other car sped off through an intersection before we could follow. “I’m sorry, miss. Let me try to—”
“Let me out.” I tugged on the door handle only to find it locked. “Let me out!”
I slapped the window until he finally unlocked the doors. Even as my heart raced, my strength failed me. It took everything I had to shoulder the door open and climb out. While I staggered down the deserted block, François resisted the flow of traffic to keep pace.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” I called back, putting all my focus into walking. Moving. You can do this, Ellie. You’ve come too far, now. “Go—please! I’ll…I’ll find my own way back.”
I didn’t look to see if he obeyed my instructions. I simply urged my body forward through sheer force of will. Step by step. Sidewalk square by sidewalk square.
How ironic. I knew this part of the city—a rarity for me, despite having lived here my whole life. For instance, this road was one of the few I’d driven on myself. I knew the darkened park to my left. And I especially knew the cathedral looming above.
In the darkness, it watched my approach like a disapproving remnant from a past life. The life of a girl who consorted with vampires. Who’d sold her virginity to one. Who’d let herself be poisoned, tricked, and humiliated by one.
The stupid, foolish woman who might have even trusted one.
I shook off the thought as blurriness disrupted my vision and the gothic structure split into two. With every step, my body swayed, tossing my shadow over the path beside me. My breaths grated on the air, noisy and useless. I was weightless. My trembling hands grasped at my sides, desperate for stability.
By the time I reached the cathedral proper, the grounds were deserted. A lone streetlamp cast the only light to see by as I approached the mouth of the structure. The door remained closed, the sign still nailed to it. When I traced my fingers over its surface, they came away gritty with dust.
Well, you were wrong, a part of me hissed as I slumped forward, pressing my sweaty forehead against the wood. You chased a shadow.
But the funny thing about shadows was that they couldn’t be stopped by something as mundane as a wooden door. A door that budged the slightest inch beneath my weight…
The wind picked up, tossing my hair around as if in warning, before I even palmed the wrought-iron handle. I pushed once, expecting to find resistance.
It opened easily, issuing a weary creak as if mourning its failure.
One peek over the threshold revealed an empty, cavernous interior with abandoned pews. Some entity took care to preserve the space, however. When I placed my foot on the wooden floor, my shoe didn’t slide over a coating of dust.
Someone had been here.
Yet every ounce of sanity I still possessed warned me to turn back. To not push the door open wider or inch my way inside.
To run.
Because I had nothing to prove. And even more harrowing to admit—I had nothing to gain. Just more questions with no fitting answers. Like, if Dublin Helos was lurking within the city, then why wait so long to come collecting?
I owned part of his life, after all. Ten whole years. The devil himself shouldn’t have been playing hide-and-seek while waiting for me to find him.
He should have been barging into Gray Manor like he owned the place, demanding I give him what I now owned.
His goddamn soul.
Shaking the thoughts away, I took another step. Thickened air irritated my nostrils and set off the reaction instinct could not—I recoiled. Harsh, rattling coughs forced me to cling to the door. Another set robbed me of balance altogether.
Light. Dark. The conflicting shades speckled my vision as everything spun and dissipated. Twisted. Faded.
And all I saw before the world went black was vibrant, terrible gold.
A Bed of Rosary
François must have brought me home. Considering he had never been inside the house, it made sense that he wouldn’t know where my room was. The gesture was enough to earn him a raise, though—even if I still slightly hated him.
He’d chosen a decent bed at least. The mattress conformed to my limbs, far too decadent to have been purchased by my mother. Perhaps it was one Georgie had snuck in as an act of rebellion? My nostrils flared, seeking out her scent in the silky fabric, but I wound up inhaling something spicier than her rosy perfume. Something…unnatural. Familiar. Like winter in physical form.
A part of me stirred in alarm, but logic quashed any suspicions before they could form.
You’re dreaming, Ellie. Go back to bed. I rolled onto my side, fighting to return to the dreamless sleep I’d left behind. Just as my body began to relax, the bed frame jolted beneath me.
I lurched upright, my eyes flying open to a darkened room. Before I could write off the disturbance as a figment of my imagination, my straining ears picked up another alarming sign. Creaking wood. Footsteps? Heavy ones. They advanced in my direction, far too bold to be a burglar.
A list of potential visitors marc
hed across my brain. Like my sister returning on her own for once? The grim reaper?
After licking my lips, I tested one theory by calling out, “F-François?”
Through the shadows, I sensed a doorknob rattle without a word of warning from the person on the other end. That ruled him out. Unease danced down my spine as I wrestled with the prospect of real danger. Perhaps terminating my entire security team hadn’t been the best idea in retrospect? I couldn’t regret it now.
Instead, I grasped at my surroundings for a weapon, finding only a pillow. I brandished it as the door opened and moonlight spilled in from a nearby window to illuminate the intruding figure.
A gasp caught in my throat. It wasn’t a murderer or a robber—certainly not the lanky François.
He was a far worse entity.
Not real, I deduced. This apparition was just another phase in an all-too-vivid dream. But pinching my wrist didn’t jolt me awake.
The Devil stubbornly remained, dressed in his usual soul-collecting attire—a flawless ebony suit crowned with a blood-colored tie. Pale skin contrasted harshly with the shadow surrounding him as did his hair—a gleaming shade of gold the sun couldn’t outshine.
With this man’s chiseled jaw jutting in the air, not even God himself would dare challenge him.
Let alone me.
Without invitation, he entered the room, and my heart stuttered as anticipation grew with every inch he gained. Admittedly, this was far from the meticulous, sly return someone like him was capable of performing. Almost as if I wasn’t worth even a fraction of the effort. Still, I’d imagined this moment so many times, assuming what he’d say down to the last word. The general gist, at least. Do be a good girl, Eleanor, and give me my contract book back, please and thank you.
So a rebuttal was on the tip of my tongue before he even opened his perfect mouth. “You’re slacking Dublin. That was far from a dramatic entrance befitting the big bad contractor—”
“You look like hell.” He advanced another step, sweeping his gaze over me. “No wonder your doctor has been consulting experts the world over concerning your case.”