by Keary Taylor
Most of them nod, looking at me expectantly like I’m missing something important.
And then it hits me.
“But he won’t know if it’s me until I resurrect,” I say quietly. “As a vampire.”
“And he’ll do it himself,” Anna says softly.
The King will come here and kill me. I’ll come back. But he’ll kill me.
Welcome to the House of Royals.
THEY ALL BREAK OUT INTO opinions and debates and shouts. I can’t distinguish one from the other, but there’s fear and anger roiling through the room. It’s overwhelming and terrifying.
“Enough!” Jasmine bellows. She shoots to her feet, commanding the room in an instant and her eyes flare red. Every one of them falls silent and their eyes turn to her. “Alivia will have to make choices soon enough. She has a fate over her head that no one can stop. When the time comes, it will come. But for now, she’s come to us with a warning, she says.”
And I feel every one of their eyes shift to me, heavy and hot. I can’t look around at them all, I’m too scared. I can’t deny that. They are giants, and I am a tiny ant. So I just look at Jasmine. “You want me to tell you in front of everyone?”
Once again, Jasmine’s eyes grow soft and kind. The woman is hot and cold. A small smile plays on her lips. “My child, whatever warning you feel inclined to give me should be a warning for the whole House. These people are my family.”
Family. I never knew such a word could be so complicated.
I swallow once.
“I have to protect certain identities,” I start. “You have to let me do that, or I can’t say anything else.”
The look in Jasmine’s eyes tells me that she doesn’t like this. She isn’t used to bargaining and giving leeway. But this is a game of politics right now, and we both have to step carefully. “Alright. Proceed.”
My heart is threatening to beat clean out of my chest. I wipe my palms on my skirts. “There’s someone here in town who can make a toxin that is supposed to be poisonous to vampires.”
“We know about the toxin,” Markov says.
“It doesn’t feel good,” Cameron says, shaking his head. “Feels like death, a swift kick to the balls, a thousand volts of electricity all at the same time, and knocks you out for twelve hours.”
“Sadly, yes, we’ve had experience with the toxin,” Jasmine says.
I nod. “An entire cabinet of it was stolen from the maker just a few days ago. No traces of who took it, but mass amounts are gone.”
If I’m going to survive this new world I’ve been thrust into, I need to earn some allegiance points. I need a chance at loyalty and trust from these people who are currently more powerful than me.
Collectively, everyone falls silent for the count of five breaths.
Then there’s shouting and noise again.
No one notices when Jasmine stands and crosses the room to me. She takes my arm roughly and drags me to one corner of the room.
“How much of the toxin are we talking, exactly?” she demands. And I see the tips of her fangs extend behind her lips. The hint of red flares in her eyes.
I shake my head, trying not to tremble in fear. “I don’t know, I never saw how much was in the cabinet before. I only saw the aftermath of the raid. But probably fifty doses.”
Jasmine swears under her breath. Her eyes draw inward, and I can tell she’s mulling over how to deal with this threat. “And you have no idea who took it?”
I shake my head again.
She takes a few moments before she speaks again. “Thank you for warning us,” she says. And she means it, I can tell. “I really am sorry for all the fear that is happening right now. I know you didn’t ask for any of this. It will not go unnoticed that you risked much by warning us—”
Glass shatters and wood splinters bullet throughout the room. Two figures with yellow eyes explode through the boarded up window.
They both blow into something and it takes some time before I realize that they’re blow darts. Needles fly through the air, missing most, but Trinity gets caught in the leg and instantly collapses to the floor in spasms.
It was a man, a boy really, and a woman who broke into the House. And as soon as Trinity goes down, the woman flies at her, stake in hand. But Markov is already in the air. They collide. And his teeth sink into the woman’s neck. There’s a sick, wet shredding sound.
The boy leaps at Christian, and the two go down on the ground.
And I get to see, for the first time, real fangs. Long, extended, deadly sharp.
Every one of the House members has exposed teeth. Extended fangs are bared, and they all leap at the intruders with glowing red eyes. Everyone moves at impossible speeds, no more than a blur. Christian lifts the boy like he weighs nothing, pinning him against the wall.
I look back at Markov and the woman when there’s a snapping sound. There’s blood everywhere, and her arm now lies three feet from her body. He attacks her neck again, wrapping one arm and hand around her head as she frantically tries to escape. With a sickening snap, he rips her head clean off.
She flops limp to the floor and blood spills out of her wrecked body like a river.
Markov licks his lips with a smile on his bloody face.
I turn back, just in time to see a needle embed itself into Christian’s neck. He collapses back into Anna and Micah. Not wasting a second, the boy darts back for the window.
He pauses, just for a second, looking back at us with those yellow eyes. And I see something on the back of his hand. A red and angry burn—a brand. It’s the shape of a snake eating its own tail.
“Don’t let him escape!” Jasmine screams when the boy leaps from the window. With animalistic growls and hisses, Anna and Micah both fly after him into the night.
“Let’s get them to their rooms,” Jasmine commands.
There’s blood smeared all over the library, broken glass and slivers of wood line the floor. At least a dozen needles are embedded into walls and books, and roll around the floor.
The intruders had to have used up nearly a quarter of their stash in this attack, and they took down two members.
I realize something. There’s no point in simply immobilizing House members and putting them through a couple of hellish hours. You only immobilize a vampire to try and kill them.
Markov scoops Trinity up in his arms. She’s still twitching and spasming. Her eyes are screwed shut, and her teeth clench tightly. She hisses in pain. Samuel slings Christian over his shoulders. They exit the library.
“Get these needles taken care of,” Jasmine commands Cameron. “Carefully.”
He actually looks scared, but I see the terror in his eyes is directed at Trinity who is disappearing down the hallway. He’s worried about her. But he does as Jasmine says and starts collecting the needles.
Lillian squats by the woman, her hands on either side of the dismembered head. She studies her face. “I don’t recognize her. She isn’t from Silent Bend.”
My stomach turns at all the blood. It’s everywhere, seeping down into the floorboards, running in a river toward the door, in a giant pool under the dismembered body.
When my eyes shift to the severed arm, the symbol catches my attention.
“Does the snake mean anything to you?” I ask.
“Snake?” Jasmine asks.
I point to the arm, specifically, at the back of the hand. There, branded into the skin, is the same symbol of the snake eating its own tail.
Jasmine grabs the arm, which is all kinds of disturbing, and observes the brand.
“The boy who escaped, I saw the same symbol on the back of his hand,” I say. I want to go home, but suddenly, nowhere seems safe. Even a house full of Born just got broken into by a couple of Bitten.
“You’re sure?” Jasmine demands, looking sternly at me.
I nod.
“We’d be able to ask about this exact kind of thing if we had any Royal connections,” Lillian says. Not in defiance, just as a fact
. “The Royals are a worldwide network. I’m sure they would know something about this.”
Jasmine doesn’t look happy about the statement, but she doesn’t make a fuss. “Eventually, we will have that ability. But we’re resourceful. We will find out who did this.”
I shuffle into the corner of the library, feeling overwhelmed. I want to disappear. I want to go back to last month when I had no clue this dark world existed. When all I did was worry if my dough would rise right and knew that it would.
Life was so simple.
“Henry was attacked, too,” I say quietly. “That’s how he was killed. Rath was incredibly surprised by it. It seemed random, as well. But I don’t think it was.”
Everyone is quiet for a moment. What I’ve just said, it means something. Something heavy and future-altering.
“Thank you for the warning, Alivia,” Jasmine says quietly. “I think you should go home now. We will talk more later.”
And just like that, I am released.
Without a word, I turn and walk out of the library. It’s quiet in the entryway. Only a few bloody footprints lead back into the mansion. But everything else looks in place and natural. I put my hand on the rusty doorknob and pull it open.
Outside, there is one limo left, as if it’s been waiting for me this whole time.
Just as I’m about to climb inside, I see one figure racing back toward the house. Anna slows yards from me, heat and anger bright in her red eyes.
“Did you catch him?” I manage to ask.
She shakes her head as the glow starts to fade away. “I’ve never seen anyone be able to disappear like that. No smell, no traces. Just gone.” Her nostrils flare, her eyes wild. Anna isn’t one to be bested often. “Micah is insistent he’ll find him, but…” She shakes her head. “He’s gone.”
“I’m sorry for what Trinity and Christian are going through,” I say, and I mean it. It’s not a deep sympathy because well, Trinity would have probably gladly drained me earlier, but that toxin can’t be pleasant.
Anna nods her head. “You should go home now.”
I nod as well. And without another word, I climb into the limo. The driver doesn’t even look back at me as he pulls around in the driveway and heads out to the main road.
I’m numb and empty as we drive home.
I thought Ian had trained me enough, prepared me. All I was expecting was manipulation and forceful persuasion. I didn’t expect this. Attacks and death and so, so much blood. This is so much more.
We roll up the driveway to the Conrath Estate. And I’m not surprised one bit when I see the figure sitting on the top step.
I climb out and close the door behind me. The limo takes off without hesitation.
In a movie, Ian would probably launch himself off the steps, gather me in his arms, and we’d look beautiful and lovely clinging to each other in this gown and that tux. We’d be so happy and relieved that the other is safe that words wouldn’t be needed to fix the choices that have been made.
But he just sits there. With anger and fear in his eyes. And I simply, numbly walk up the stairs and sit next to him.
“You’re alive,” he observes.
“I’m alive.”
“You got blood all over your dress,” he says without looking at me.
I look down. There is blood coating the bottom of the dress, swept up from the library floor. There are also splatters of it here and there all over me. Markov is messy and crazy.
“Shit,” Ian hisses, life sparking back inside of him. “Is that one of Elle’s needles?” And he plucks one from my skirt. I didn’t even notice it there, embedded into the folds of my dress. “Liv, what happened?”
So I tell him. All of it. The story they told me, what would happen if the King came to Silent Bend. How I warned them all. And the attack.
“I’ve never heard of the snake symbol,” Ian says, shaking his head. “Some families adopt symbols. Family crests. Yours is the raven. But I’ve never heard of the snake.”
“That boy,” I say when something tickles the back of my brain. “The football player you said went missing. What did he look like?”
Ian digs into his pocket and brings out his cell phone. He takes a few seconds and then hands it to me.
“It’s him,” I immediately say. The dark, teenager-pocked skin. The almond shaped eyes. The full lips. “He’s one of the two that broke into the House.”
Ian nods. Like it’s not a surprise at all that a missing football star turns up as a Bitten vampire. “Something’s happening. Three Bitten not under control of the House. Four if you count the one who killed Henry. A very specific attack on the House. You know what that attack was?”
I shake my head. “What?”
“A declaration of war,” Ian says ominously.
“By who?”
“Don’t know yet.”
The crickets chirp, and off in the distance, I see lightning bugs dancing through the trees. The scent of the magnolias and the wisteria floats through the air.
Mississippi is beautiful. It’s old and charming and deep as it is South. But it has opened my eyes in ways I wish they could have stayed shut.
“I don’t want to be afraid of all of this,” I breathe quietly. I’m not sure Ian can hear it, and the statement was meant for me more than him.
“You should be afraid of this,” he admits. And in a surprising show of understanding, he reaches over and puts a hand on my knee.
I shake my head. “I don’t want to be afraid of all of this,” I repeat, my voice still quiet. “But tonight I am and I think it’s a good thing that I am.”
And with the admission, all my insides begin to tremble. The shakes work their way from my insides out. Ian wraps an arm around me and gathers me into his side. My head settles into the space between his cheek and his shoulder and he crushes me to him. I cling to him.
Here it is.
I will give myself this night. I will embrace the fear and the immense new world I’ve been shot into. I will let everything that’s happened in the last three weeks sink into my heart and shake it with everything that it is. If tears want to come, I will let them come.
Tonight I will be afraid.
But come morning, when the sun rises, when I can walk out into it and feel that, for now, I am human, I will dominate that fear.
I will embrace it all, and I will win.
THERE’S SOMETHING ABOUT THE PAINTING in Henry’s—my—bedroom. It’s a huge, nearly floor-to-ceiling masterpiece of a village with a river that runs through it. A still life, I suppose, a landscape? There are no people in it. Just the buildings, old, ancient. There’s a small boat tied to the side of the canal. But it isn’t the lack of life in the painting that’s bothering me.
It’s how it seems off. Not quite set right on the wall. Like it’s just barely angled away from it on the left side.
When I woke in the morning, I did feel better. But I just laid in my bed long after the sun came up, just being. Not really thinking. Not really feeling. Just existing.
I hadn’t really realized my eyes were fixed on the painting until I started to feel annoyed with it. And eventually I realized it wasn’t the painting itself that I was annoyed with.
Climbing out of bed, I pad over the wooden floors to it. Preparing myself for the heaviness it must weigh, I grab either side of the frame to straighten it.
But the second I touch that left side, it swings just slightly toward me.
All the blood in my body falls to my feet as a cold draft wafts out from behind the painting.
I pull on the left side, swinging the door wide open.
Behind the painting lies the opening of a narrow passageway.
The walls are lined with old wood and stone. There’s no light to lead the way, but what little spills in from my bedroom shows that it cuts sharply to the left and then drops.
The discovery of a hidden passageway is amazing. It’s every little kid’s dream. But I know the history of this house and what lurks
in the dark in this town. I’m both fascinated and petrified about where this passage leads to.
I grab my cell phone and turn the flash on for a light. With the cold air licking over my body, I start into the dark.
It does indeed cut immediately to my left. This wall is an outside one, with windows looking out over the river just to the side of it. It’s impressive there’s room enough to house the passage. It runs for two yards, and immediately drops down into a set of steep stairs.
Down, down, down I go. The darkness makes the stairway seem longer than I think it actually is. The air grows cooler, the moisture in the walls thicker.
I level out into a tunnel.
Dirt walls, dirt floor, and dirt ceiling make me fairly sure that I’m underground. Wooden beams brace the tunnel every ten feet or so, but they don’t look particularly stable, like they’re beginning to rot out.
When I suddenly step in a shallow puddle, I understand why.
I’m probably ten feet underground. This secret tunnel is not far from the river at all. I’d bet it floods in the winter and spring when the rains raise the level of the river.
I walk and walk. It feels like forever. A mile? Two? Maybe it’s only been a hundred yards, but in the dark, knowing how unstable this tunnel is, it feels ominous and unending.
And then I see another set of stairs, leading up, and a sliver of light.
A small wooden door covers the entrance. I have to push and shove. The sound of branches and leaves scrape from the other side, before I finally burst out and into the thorny shrubbery that waits for me.
The doorway is well hidden between two ancient and huge trees with thick underbrush growing around it. I tumble out, scraping my arm on a branch.
Climbing to my feet, I brush myself off and look around at where I am.
The fence, which serves as the border of the Conrath property, is directly behind the trees I climbed out from beneath. The tunnel leads directly from the Estate, which I can barely make out in the distance, to just outside the property line.
There’s an empty field dotted with trees between where I am and where I can see the next houses, closer to downtown, and me.