As she reached the bottom steps, she saw them: one hundred vampires drifting, slinking, and sliding through the cellar with silent grace. No footsteps, no sighs, no rustles, no spare sounds at all. She heard only the murmur of voices.
Around the vampires, a thousand crystals danced in the light of the electric sconces that Mother had installed. Each bulb imitated a candlelike flame, waving with amber light and casting shadows that wove and writhed on the cellar walls. Swaths of black satin were draped over the beams in the ceiling, a tasteful echo of the tacky glitter lace upstairs. Tiny Christmas lights twinkled from within the satin. The floor had been cleaned and polished so it was as sharp and clear as obsidian. Pearl stepped lightly off the last step. The air nearly crackled with age and power, and she smelled jasmine and dahlias mixed with the mildew.
Flat and empty eyes fixed on her blue satin dress and painted face. She lifted her chin and adopted her favorite don’t-mess-with-me expression. Her fingers rested lightly on Jadrien’s sleeve. As her escort, he guided her across the cellar to her Family, who flanked the empty dais—the king had not yet arrived, which was a relief. Her back still remembered the feel of Minerva’s flail. His Majesty, she’d been warned, would not be so gentle with latecomers.
Jadrien bowed to Mother and Daddy and then retreated to join his Family, several tables removed from the dais, a status that undoubtedly chafed at Jadrien. Cousin Antoinette lingered to speak softly with him, while Cousin Shirley darted to the Family table.
Mother raised her eyebrows in a perfect arch at Pearl’s dress. Pearl met Mother’s eyes and didn’t flinch. She might feel guilt over a lot of things, thanks to Evan, but this dress wasn’t one of them. If she hadn’t seen how good she looked in her own reflection, she would have seen it in Evan’s eyes outside the burnt Dairy Hut.
Aunt Rose’s mouth was pressed into a thin line. Her nostrils flared, a deliberate expression of her displeasure, since she hadn’t breathed in several decades.
Aunt Lianne wore a similar look of distaste. “You wound me,” she began.
“I approve,” Mother cut in. “She’s dressed for her hunt.”
“As do I,” Daddy chimed in too. “She looks lovely.”
Uncle Felix nestled his nose in her hair. “She smells like humans.” He inhaled deeply, and Pearl scowled at him until he backed away with hands raised in surrender. “You honor us with your hunt. Tonight will be unique!”
Of all the adjectives that he could have selected, that one was apt. “A night to remember,” Pearl said. She swept her gaze across her Family and wondered if she should say something profound. Nothing came to mind. She noticed that Aunt Maria wore black lace roses clustered at her throat. Daddy looked dapper in his cravat and Dracula-esque cape. Mother, of course, was the most elegant, in a shimmering black dress that looked like a reflection of the night sky. But it seemed anticlimactic to compliment their clothes. And anything else would sound suspiciously like good-bye.
Jocelyn said, “I will record lines for posterity. And if the feast is a success, perhaps I’ll even compose a poem in your honor, Cousin Pearl.”
Shirley clapped her hands. “Ooh! But wait, what if she fails?”
“Then, a eulogy.”
Pearl tried to resist an eye roll. Obviously, Jocelyn had coached Shirley to set her up for that punch line.
Uncle Pascha favored her with a faint smile, the closest she’d ever come to affection from him. “‘Thy eternal summer shall not fade, nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st, nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade, when in eternal lines to time thou grow’st.’” Pearl recognized the quote instantly—Evan had quoted part of the same sonnet to her on the day they first met. She wondered if Evan had ever written a poem about her. She should have asked.
“Exactly,” Jocelyn said.
She wished . . . Never mind, she told herself. She was not going to launch into mushy regrets, not now and not ever.
Daddy laid his hand on Pearl’s shoulder. “We are all proud of you, and we are all glad you are here with us on this very special night.”
She managed a false smile.
Aunt Rose sniffed again but was wise enough to say nothing. Charlaine merely glared. The fake candlelight darkened her face with new shadows.
Antoinette breezed up to them. “Never fear. We rescued her, even though I didn’t dance either the Electric Slide or the Macarena.” Smiling brightly, she joined the other cousins clustered around a table that overflowed with night-blooming jasmine and black irises. Antoinette kicked Jeremiah as she squeezed herself in between Charlaine and Jocelyn. Jeremiah scurried underneath the table. He peered out from beneath the tablecloth and eyed Pearl’s leg as if it were tasty.
Pearl looked from Antoinette to Daddy. “You sent them up? To check on me?”
“It’s an important night,” Daddy said. “We wanted to be sure you were not delayed. Forgive us, but it is our last opportunity to parent you.” He assumed a fatherly expression. It didn’t quite fill his eyes. Pearl thought of Evan’s father, who leaked authentic fatherliness from his pores. “Our jewel, grown at last. You will shine the brightest of them all, fulfilling the promise of your birth.”
Pearl felt a lump in her throat, a very nonvampire reaction. She tried to swallow it down. The last thing she needed was to show human emotion. “It has been an honor to be your daughter,” Pearl said. “I will always remember your teachings.”
“See that you do,” Mother said.
Pearl wondered if these would be the last words she ever exchanged with her parents, aside from whatever insults and death threats would follow later tonight once her betrayal was discovered. If she was lucky, she’d be too far away to hear them. Most likely she’d be too dead.
Her eyes slid to the stairs. She estimated thirty vampires were between her and the ballroom upstairs, not counting her own Family. All of them were older and stronger than she was. She needed to be much closer to the stairs when the missing feast was discovered, if she was to have any chance of surviving this.
Truthfully, survival didn’t seem likely.
Surrounded by their own kind, the vampires did not need to pretend to be human. As they waited, they held themselves with a stillness that was not unlike the stone that surrounded them. All the faces were blank masks. Death masks.
Silence spread across the cellar like a blanket, muffling every murmur. If she’d closed her eyes, she would have thought she was alone. Even the younger set controlled their breath.
Opposite the dais, double doors (installed at the tunnel entrance purely for this moment—Mother loved little touches of drama) were thrown open. They made no sound as they hit the velvet that had been draped over the stone walls on either side.
At first Pearl saw only empty darkness.
One dramatic pause later, two guards marched out of the tunnel and into the cellar. Each of them wore black leather armor. Spikes protruded from their wrists and knees. They carried spears with silver points on black wood staffs—silver to cause pain and wood to kill. Red silk capes swirled behind them as they strode across the cellar toward the dais. As they passed, Pearl saw their faces were mangled with holy-water scars that twisted their cheeks and distorted their eyes. The effect was faces that were closer to monster than man, completely unreadable. Their bodies were pure muscle, each bulge visible against the body armor. Every muscle was tense. Halting at the foot of the dais, they swiveled and slammed their staffs into the floor.
Another set of guards, equal parts muscle and menace, filled the doorway. They marched across the cellar, slammed down their spears, and waited. They were joined by another set, and then another, until twelve sets of vampire guards lined the path between the doorway and the dais.
She knew there were to be twenty-four guards, but seeing them . . . That is a lot of muscles and menace, she thought. If these guards were set loose in the ballroom before the evacuation was complete . . . Not going to happen.
Without a signal that Pearl could det
ect, the guards en masse pivoted to face the audience, a barrier between the Connecticut vampires and the path to the dais. As one, the guards slapped both hands onto the spears and bent their knees, ready to defend.
This was it. No backing out now. Without thinking, Pearl sucked in oxygen. She felt as if her breath was as loud as thunder in the silent cellar. Seconds passed, and then minutes. The guards did not move. No one moved. She didn’t breathe again.
A shadow crossed the doorway, and then the vampire king swept through the door. Silence greeted him, but all eyes were riveted on him as he slid soundlessly across the black stone floor toward the dais.
As he passed by Pearl, she saw his face and nearly gasped.
In the looks department, he blew Jadrien out of the water. Despite having lived through several centuries (or more), he looked no older than seventeen. His cheeks were smooth, and his lips were full and soft. His eyes were as green and bright as emeralds. He’d slicked his black hair back, and he wore only black, a variation on the same black leather body armor that his guards wore.
He climbed onto the dais. As he turned to face the vampire assembly, Pearl saw he was scarred above his left eyebrow. It flared into five lines, as if someone had laid a burning hand on his face. Or a hand dipped in holy water. She tried to let the scar reassure her: He wasn’t invulnerable.
She didn’t feel reassured.
The king lowered himself onto the throne.
Mother bowed low. “You honor us with your presence.”
“I do,” the king said. His voice was like silk. It unfurled through the room, soft on the ears. Pearl suppressed a shudder. His voice caused her bones to ache. “I am your master, your lord, your universe.”
As one, every adult vampire chanted together, “You are ours, and we are yours.”
He said, “I am your light, your shadow, your sun, your moon.”
Again, the vampires chanted, “You are ours, and we are yours.”
He said, “I come before you to receive your pledge. You are my children, pieces of me given movement and voice.”
Again: “You are ours, and we are yours.”
The voices were swallowed by the stone.
Silence echoed. And for the first time, perhaps the first time in her entire undead life, Pearl felt terrified. She wanted to run. Or vomit. Or scream. But somehow, through sheer willpower, she managed to hold herself still and silent.
“Very well. Let us begin,” His Majesty said. “But first, one bit of business. You disappoint me.” He raised his hand and pointed at a vampire in a green cape and Victorian suit. Pearl recognized him as a member of the New London clan. One guard leveled a spear at him.
Aunt Fiona began to wail. Uncle Stefan clamped a hand firmly over her mouth.
Silent, the vampire spun and ran toward the open double doors. With a whistle, the spear flew through the air. It pierced the vampire in the back, hitting his heart. The vampire fell to his knees, and then he crumbled into black dust.
The spear clattered to the ground.
The guard crossed to it and picked it up. He returned to his position. Pearl felt her rib cage hurt as she pictured the spear sliding through her skin and finding her heart. Her fingers touched satin as she covered her heart.
No one spoke. No one moved. Even Aunt Fiona was silent.
The vampire king offered no explanation. He opened his hand toward Mother. She stepped forward. The guards permitted her to pass. She knelt before the king. “Please allow me to present your newest children.”
That was their cue. Minerva had drilled them on this a hundred times. Each young vampire left his or her Family and proceeded forward to form a line. Forcing her feet to obey, Pearl crossed the black stone floor. She assumed her spot beside Jadrien. She was conscious of his perfect stillness beside her, but she didn’t dare look at him. None of them looked at each other. All eyes were fixed on His Majesty.
One by one, Mother introduced the young vampires. As she stated their names and lineage, each vampire walked between the guards to the dais, knelt, and then retreated.
The young vampire on the other side of Jadrien proceeded forward. His toe caught the hem of his cape, and he began to stumble. He hid the mistake in a flourish of his cape and bowed. Miraculously, he returned to the line unscathed.
Beside her, Jadrien executed the maneuver flawlessly. Next, it was her turn.
She wished she’d worn the black dress. She wished she’d stayed upstairs at the prom. She wished she’d run fast and far when she’d had the chance. Stilling her breathing and blanking her expression, she drifted across the obsidian-like floor toward the dais. She knelt in one smooth movement, and then she rose and returned to the line, next to Jadrien, her eyes fixed on the floor. She did not raise her head until she was back in the line.
All of them survived the introduction.
Maybe everything will be okay, Pearl thought.
His Majesty rose from his throne. “Your youth adds to our strength. Your power increases ours. I will join you to us and bid you welcome, my children.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw each vampire tremble under his gaze. She didn’t dare turn her head. As Minerva had instructed, she stared straight ahead at the gilded throne. Beside her, she felt Jadrien quiver, and then the king’s eyes slid to meet Pearl’s.
Staring into the king’s eyes felt as if she were looking into a telescope at a distant galaxy. She heard roaring deep within her, as if she could hear the echo of that distance. He held a vastness in his eyes—a vastness of years and of power—as if he were his own galaxy. Pressure built in her head. She felt her borrowed blood hot inside of her. Suddenly, the king broke the gaze, focusing on the next vampire in the line. Despite her resolve, Pearl sagged. She heard her own breath whoosh out of her. She wished immediately she could suck it back in. Instead, she summoned her strength and straightened her shoulders. She couldn’t afford to show any weakness.
One by one, the king summoned them to the dais. The first vampire hobbled up, as awkward as a just-born foal. His knees wobbled, and his hands twitched. Pearl’s eyes flicked to him—it was Chadwick, Jadrien’s brother, the one with the bat collection and without a sense of humor. The king descended the steps of the dais.
Chadwick fell to his knees and bowed his head.
All the young vampires sucked in air. Pearl heard the collective gasp like a sigh of wind. He’d violated protocol. You were supposed to stand to donate the blood.
Gently, the king stroked Chadwick’s hair. He took his head in both hands and tilted it as if to access the boy’s neck. Then in one quick motion he twisted his neck. Pearl heard the snap. The body slumped to the floor, and a guard drove a spear into his heart. The boy disintegrated into dust.
Looking up from the pile of ash, the king said, “Lauranne Colleen, made by Evelyn Anne Vincent of Hartford, approach.”
Laurie, the girl who had been Jadrien’s fling, scooted forward. She halted just before the dais and held her head high enough to pinch her neck muscles. He swept her hair to the side and tilted her neck. She kept her hands straight by her sides. Pearl saw her hands tremble.
Leaning forward, the king plunged his fangs into Laurie’s throat. Her hands curled into fists. He drank from her for five seconds, ten seconds, thirty, one minute, one minute and a half. . . Pearl began to wonder if he intended to drain her dry. Her eyes flicked to the audience of older vampires, but she couldn’t identify Laurie’s sire. No one stepped forward to interfere. As he passed the two-minute mark, he released her. She staggered and then fell to her knees.
“The first child is now forgiven,” he said. “Return to the line.”
Laurie was unable to stand. Two guards grabbed her arms and tossed her back toward the line. She collapsed into a heap like a broken doll. Vampires could resist the venom, but lose enough blood . . . Pearl tried to remember the last time she had drunk. She’d taken two pints from the storage room the night before last. She wondered how many pints she had in her and how long she could last.
On the plus side, if the king drank deeply from her, then he would absorb more of Evan’s power. If I had any balls at all, she thought, I’d tell him to drain me.
He summoned the next vampire. This one, he drank from for only thirty seconds. He kept to that amount as he proceeded down the line. As Jadrien was summoned to the dais, Pearl risked a glance at Daddy. His eyes were on her, not the king and not Jadrien, but she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. She looked back at His Majesty and hoped Daddy would understand someday.
“Approach, Pearl Rose Sange, born daughter of Isabel Sange and Mickey Sange of Greenbridge.” His voice slid over her skin. She walked forward with the precision that Minerva had taught her. The guards permitted her to pass, and she halted at the base of the dais.
She felt the blood inside her as if it were acid beneath her skin. It burned in her veins. A weaker vampire might have broken and confessed. Not going to happen, she thought. As the blue strapless dress proved, she did have balls.
“Drink your fill, Your Majesty,” Pearl said.
He smiled with his fangs out. “How delightful.”
Leaning close to her, he cupped her elbows with his hands. His fingers felt skeletal against her skin. She smelled the leather of his armor, like spiced, rotting meat. Or perhaps that was the scent of his flesh. This close, his eyes looked like pools of liquid emerald. She kept her gaze on his until he bent his head to touch his lips to her neck.
She closed her eyes and tried not to think at all as his fangs sank deep into her skin. Pain shot through her neck into her spine, her skull, her muscles. She felt as if nails were being drawn through the inside of her body. She abandoned thinking of nothing and instead tried to cocoon her mind in thoughts, as if wrapping it in gauze. She pictured school and replayed Bethany’s tutoring lessons in her head. She imagined jogging across a field in sunlight. She thought of sitting on the roof next to Evan with the sun on her shoulders, warm instead of the cold that crept through her limbs.
Drink, Slay, Love Page 26