I’m dying, she thought. Huh. A laugh bubbled to her lips. As a member of the undead, she hadn’t thought much about the sensation of dying. She’d expected it to come with a stake or a shot of sunlight, something instantaneous. This was leisurely in its slowness. If it weren’t for the pain that skittered through her veins . . . Don’t think about the pain. She switched her thoughts back to Evan.
All of this was Evan’s fault. She wouldn’t be here, dying, if not for him. He’d wanted to use her. And he’d wanted to save her. She felt her muscles shake and her legs sag. The king’s hands on her elbows kept her upright.
Oh, yes, she was angry at Evan, except that she wasn’t. At any point she could have walked away. Gone to California or flown to Europe. She could have changed her identity, melted into the human world, and created a new life for herself. She could have avoided the pesky tug of her new conscience by not drinking from anyone else and survived like that for at least a few decades, even centuries if she was careful, before the Family found her. It wasn’t her responsibility to “save” other vampires. No handsome were-unicorns with luminous eyes were here now forcing her to stand still while the king slowly killed her.
“Stand still” wasn’t quite accurate anymore. As her head spun, she felt as if she were floating. She couldn’t feel her hands or her feet. Her legs felt like pools of jelly. She wondered if she had a shape anymore. She felt like a cloud, floating on red pain. It permeated her cells, yet her mind rose above it. She’d chosen this. Evan had simply shown her the choices. She thought of him lying awake all night while she’d lain in his bed. She thought of dancing with him, and how he’d tried to keep her from Jadrien. Both instances, sweet. Also stupid, which pretty much defined Evan: sweet and stupid. She hoped he didn’t feel too bad about her death.
After that her thoughts became clouded. She saw red haze and sank into the pain. It surrounded her and caressed her. Her thoughts scattered as they formed. She felt herself sinking into blackness, and then her arms were jerked backward. She felt stone scrape against the back of her legs as she was dragged from the dais. She felt her cheek hit the stone.
She wasn’t dead.
She lay there for a long while. Her arms and legs felt distant, as if her body ended at her torso. She felt heavy and empty at the same time, floating yet glued to the floor. Eventually, she heard the king speak, “My children, I bid you welcome and accept you. As you are now unto me, I will be unto you.” His voice was muffled, as if he were underwater. He repeated the ritual words in Latin.
Sideways, cheek pressed against the stone, she watched the king slice his arm. He let the blood dribble into a jeweled chalice. Royal blood, mixed with the strength of every young vampire, including her. He widened the cut, and the blood flowed out until the cup brimmed with the jewel-like red. He then pressed silk to the wound. Blood stained the silk instantly, and her fangs extended at the sight.
One of the guards accepted the chalice and carried it to the first young vampire in line. Still weak from the excessive blood loss, Laurie lay on the stone floor with the black lace and tulle of her dress piled around her like a black puddle. She lifted her head.
The guard held out the chalice at shoulder height. She strained her neck upward toward it. The gashes had begun to heal, but dried blood laced her throat. Pearl saw her arms tremble as she tried to push herself upward. The guard did not lower the chalice. He did not even move to glance down at her. Finally, Laurie’s arms collapsed under her and she sank into the stone.
The guard proceeded to the second vampire as another guard drove a spear through Laurie’s back. She crumbled to ash.
Oh, crap, Pearl thought. More vampire macho games.
She counted six vampires who had to drink before it was her turn. As the young vampires drank, she saw life rush into their skin, lighting their cheeks. The king’s blood was powerful. If she could sip it, she had a chance.
Come on, Pearl, she thought. She prided herself on being tough. She could do this! Stand up! She forced her muscles to curl her legs under her. She couldn’t feel her feet, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. Agonizingly slowly, she drew her arms in. She laid her palms flat on the stone. Push. She thought of Evan and Bethany and Sana and Tara. If she lived, she could help them. She could see this thing through. She could greet her parents in the sunlight. Blah, blah, blah, she thought. She needed real inspiration. Opening her eyes, Pearl looked across the cellar floor. She saw the hems of dresses and polished shoes. Underneath a tablecloth, Cousin Jeremiah peered out. She met his wide and crazed bloodshot eyes. He winked at her. If that crazy bastard can survive, so can you. Now, stand!
That worked.
As the guard’s polished boots stepped in front of her, Pearl pushed herself slowly, painfully to her knees. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jadrien watching her. She let that fuel her too. He would not see her weak!
She shook, she ached, but she rose. Standing, she lifted her head. The guard held the chalice to her lips and tilted it. A few drops of blood touched her tongue. They tasted like fire. She licked her lips as the flames spread through her mouth and scorched her throat. The blood touched her lungs and her heart, and then it burst outward into her body. She felt her arms and her legs again. Her muscles burst into a flare of pain, but she could feel them! She felt strength return to her body, and she smiled.
She met the king’s gaze and kept on smiling. As the chalice moved to the next vampire, the king shifted his focus to his next “child.” After all the young vampires had drunk, the guard carried the chalice to the older vampires.
One by one, they drank.
She wondered how much of the unicorn magic had touched the blood they drank. There may not have been enough time for it to disperse throughout the king’s blood. Or it could be too diluted to have any effect. There was no way to know.
She watched the progression of the chalice around the room. She saw Mother sip and then Daddy. Uncle Stefan kicked Cousin Jeremiah until he emerged from the table and sipped. Aunt Maria was next and then Uncle Felix. After them, Cousin Antoinette tossed her hair back and sipped. She then beamed a smile directly at Jadrien. Pearl didn’t bother to look at Jadrien to see his response. She could tell from the satisfied look that filled Antoinette’s face. Aunt Rose drank. Aunt Lianne. Uncle Pascha. Cousin Shirley. The chalice continued to weave through the room. Minerva drank. Jadrien’s Family. The New Haven vampires. New London. Hartford. Bridgeport. Mystic. The only sound was the footsteps of the guard who carried the chalice. From his throne, the king acknowledged each sip with a nod of his head, as if affirming his acceptance of the drinker. As the chalice progressed through the room, the guard had to tilt it higher for the vampires to drink.
At last, the final vampire drank.
The king rose from his throne. “Tonight, we are one. Let the celebration begin!”
Three vampires lifted instruments—a violin, a viola, and a cello. Softly, sweetly, a waltz drifted across the cellar. The heads of each Family bowed and curtsied to each other and then began to swirl around the room. Their footsteps were silent on the stone. Others paired up and danced. Soon the cellar was a swirl of black. No one spoke.
Pearl wove between the dancers, aiming for the wall. She’d watch from the side, a demure wallflower, and then, when all the vampires were dancing, she’d slip toward the stairs. If she was very, very lucky, she could join the exodus upstairs while the vampires celebrated.
Before she’d made it halfway across the floor, Jadrien intercepted her. Bowing, he held out his hand toward her. Oh, crap, she thought. Why couldn’t he have chosen Antoinette? From the glares that Antoinette was shooting her, Pearl knew that her cousin had expected it.
Glancing around at the waltzing vampires, she knew there was no option but to accept. Wordlessly, Pearl laid her hand in his. He placed his other hand on the small of her back.
Under his breath, intended for her ears only, he whispered, “I saw you. You were reflected.”
His voice
was soft, but his were the only words in the cellar.
Every vampire heard him.
Chapter
THIRTY
On the dais, the king raised his hand.
The music ceased, and every dancer froze. No one spoke. No one even breathed. Pearl shot a look at the stairs. She could reach them in three strides, but they might as well have been three miles away. If she ran upstairs, the vampires would follow her, and the humans would die. She couldn’t let that happen.
I’m not going to make it, she thought. She hadn’t realized until that moment how much she’d hoped to escape and survive the night. It hurt to release that hope.
“You,” the king said. He leveled his finger at Jadrien. “Speak.”
Jadrien threw himself down in a prostrate bow. His face touched the stone floor. “Your Majesty, please forgive—”
“Tell me what you said.” His voice was like molten stone, dripping and burning where it touched as it oozed across the cellar.
“She has a reflection,” Jadrien said quickly. He didn’t even hesitate before condemning her. “I saw it in the chalice. I see it now in the polished stone beneath us.” She couldn’t blame him—he’d always looked out for himself first, like any good vampire—but she still wished she could kick his ass across the cellar and pound his head against the lovely, clean stone wall.
The king fixed his burning eyes on Pearl, and Pearl was suddenly grateful that she didn’t need to breathe. She felt as if all the oxygen in her lungs had ignited. His eyes were intense enough to scald. “I drank your blood tonight,” the king said.
“Yes,” Pearl whispered. Her voice carried in the silence. She hoped the evacuation was moving fast. It was only a matter of time now. Given how quickly the king had killed when he first entered the ballroom, she estimated her life expectancy was about five seconds.
“You begged me to drink my fill. Yet you are no vampire.”
Pearl’s tongue felt thick as she tried to wrap it around her words. “Yes, I am.” Her eyes slid to Mother. His eyes followed hers.
To Mother, he said, “You allowed this . . . this abomination . . . into my Fealty Ceremony.” His voice dipped lower, slithering through the room as if it were a snake. Pearl felt her skin crawl.
“You were informed of the feast,” Mother said, her voice shockingly calm. “She is the author of it. May I present my daughter, Pearl, true child of my body and the jewel of our Family. She will bring honor to you—”
The king asked Pearl, “Child, have you seen the sunrise?”
“Yes,” she said, wishing for even a third of Mother’s poise.
Silence punctuated her answer.
“She is our miracle,” Daddy said, breaking the silence. “She has proven her worth and loyalty through the feast that she has delivered to us. Above, four hundred young bodies await us.”
“Check the upstairs,” the king ordered his guards. Two of them strode toward the stairs, so fast that the air rippled around them.
“No, wait!” Pearl said.
The king commanded, “Hold.” The two guards halted. They looked as if they’d suddenly transformed into stone. “Speak, daywalker.”
All eyes turned toward Pearl. She reeled back, the power of all those ancient eyes searing into her skull, and then she forced herself to stand straight and focus on His Majesty. “The feast . . . if we don’t spring the trap carefully, they’ll suspect. They’ll flee. If any of them escape, it will ruin us! This will only work if we catch them all.”
Mother bowed. “Of course, the insolence of her manner of speech will be punished severely, Your Majesty. But in essence, she is correct. This hunt must be executed with precision.”
Everyone watched the king while he considered it.
“I will accept this risk,” the king said. “You could be in league with the humans. Hunters could await us instead of a feast. This could be a trap. I have not lived this long by being trusting. Proceed.” He flicked his wrist, and the two guards unfroze.
Pearl sprang into action.
The other guards leaped in front of their king, but she wasn’t targeting him. She ran at the two guards on the stairs. But she was far too slow.
As the first guard opened the door, she yelled, “They’re coming!”
A unicorn horn skewered the vampire guard through the chest. He toppled backward down the stairs. Evan leaped over the vampire’s body as it disintegrated into char. He drove his horn toward the second guard as Pearl slammed into the guard’s back, forcing him onto the point of the horn. He crumbled to ash too.
“Hey,” Evan said to Pearl. “Just wondered if you’d like to finish our dance.”
“Love to,” Pearl said.
Side by side, Pearl and Evan faced the vampires below them. For an instant no one moved or spoke.
“Betrayer!” the king howled. “Punish her!” Half his guards closed ranks around him, and the rest raced for the stairs.
“Up!” Evan shouted.
Both of them pivoted and ran.
At the top of the stairs they spilled out into the ballroom. Pearl swung the door shut, and Evan’s sister Lizzie slid the bolt home. There wasn’t time to barricade the door. Oh, crap, Pearl thought. The evacuation wasn’t finished. At least half the prom-goers were still inside.
“Go, now!” Pearl shouted.
Grabbing the DJ’s microphone, Tara shouted, “Vampires, coming to suck your blood. Everyone without a death wish, out!” To the DJ, she said, “We’ll double your fee if you play along. You can fetch your gear in the morning.”
“Got it,” he said. He switched the song to “Bela Lugosi’s Dead.” Taking his microphone back, he said, “Sharpen your stakes and grab your garlic. It’s time to run for your lives!” He then abandoned his DJ station and jogged to the door, joining the press of students. A few of the students were screaming. Some were laughing, clearly still believing this was an act. Tara and the prom committee, working with the Karkadanns, shooed them toward the door.
The teachers and parents shouted for order.
Mr. Barstow commandeered the microphone. “Students, there is no need to panic. This is all part of the show! You can return inside—”
Bethany (of all people) plucked the microphone out of his hands. “I’m sorry, Mr. Barstow. Suspend me if you have to, but this is not optional. Everyone must leave now. Please, go with the other chaperones and assist the students outside.” She continued, but Pearl didn’t have the chance to listen more—the vampires were bashing at the door.
Evan’s sister Lizzie handed Pearl a sword.
Pearl swung it in a circle to flex her sword arm as the vampires continued to slam into the door. “Thanks,” she said. “How very prepared.”
“We were all Boy and Girl Scouts,” Evan said.
“Of course you were.”
“We have stakes, if you’d rather,” Lizzie said. “The sword has more range, though, and no vampire can survive a beheading.”
“I am somewhat familiar with vampire facts,” Pearl said drily.
The lock bent, and the door creaked.
Pearl glanced over her shoulder. Another hundred students had exited, but a quarter of the junior class still remained. Most faces were pale. A few were crying. Shepherded by several of the Karkadanns, they were funneling out the mansion door.
“Get ready,” Evan said.
Pearl kicked off her high heels and sliced a slit in her dress. She then lifted her sword and faced the door.
The door shattered. All the students screamed.
As the first vampire (one of the king’s guards) pushed through the broken door, a torrent of water released from a bucket suspended above. The vampire shrieked as holy water scalded his skin. He collapsed and writhed on the floor.
A few yards away, holding a rope, Matt whooped. “One down!”
Evan stabbed the guard through the heart, and he exploded in a cloud of char. The second guard met the same fate. By the third vampire, a woman from the New Haven Family, the wa
ter was a trickle. The drops scalded her cheeks, but she barreled forward. Pearl swung her sword at the vampire’s neck. The vampire dodged—directly into Evan’s horn. As the vampire disintegrated, Pearl spun around and hacked at the next vampire who tried to push through the hole. He fell back.
Matt and Zeke refilled the buckets with holy water. “Pour, pour, pour!”
Hands clawed at the door shards, trying to pry them back, to widen the hole. Pearl hacked at their hands and fingers. From below, she heard Aunt Fiona’s banshee wail. Lizzie lopped off the head of the next vampire who poked her head through the hole. Beyond her, through the press of vampires on the stairs, Pearl spotted Antoinette and Shirley. If Pearl didn’t end this soon, she’d have to fight Family.
“Leave the water,” Pearl called to Matt. “Get it lit!”
“But you guys—”
“Do it,” Evan said. “Lizzie, help them. We’ll catch up. Go!”
Pearl heard Zeke, Matt, and Lizzie run toward the door, but she didn’t dare take a second to check over her shoulder. Vampires were piling against the broken door. In concert, Pearl and Evan fought them back. But the wood splintered.
Seconds later the vampires burst through it. Pearl plunged her sword into the closest one, another royal guard. He grabbed the hilt and yanked the sword out of her hands. He pulled the sword out of his body and swung it at Pearl.
“Time to run,” Pearl said.
She grabbed Evan’s arm and spun him. Together, they raced for the door. Behind them, the vampires spilled into the ballroom with a roar like a hundred tigers. Evan and Pearl pelted across the dance floor. Ahead of them the way was clear—the humans were all outside. Yes! Pearl thought. It fueled her, and she increased speed.
Bursting outside, Pearl saw that the humans were still trickling across the yard. The trench wasn’t lit yet. She skidded to a stop. “Can’t let them out! Not yet!”
Swordless, she crouched, hands ready to strike, in front of the door.
Drink, Slay, Love Page 27