by J. A. London
“Be sure you stay on your side of the bed. I don’t want flannel touching me.”
I suppose with her sensitive skin, silk feels a thousand times better. “It’s soft,” I say defensively.
“Whatever.” She turns her attention back to the book.
I climb onto the bed, tuck my legs beneath me. “So what happened with you and Richard? I know you guys have a past.”
She closes the book and glares at me. “What is this—one of those girl bonding things that you humans do?”
“I’m just trying to understand what’s going on.”
“There’s nothing to understand.” She rolls over, turns down the gas lamp, and buries herself beneath the covers.
Although we have a dim light, my eyesight is sharper. I can clearly see her outline.
“Do you really like Xavier?” I ask.
“Of course not.”
“Then why dance with him?”
“Because he was our host. It would have been rude not to.”
Faith always tries to be hard and uncaring, but I sense vulnerability in her. “When we were in Los Angeles, I saw your face when Richard leapt through the window with Sin.” It was a fall from a height that would have killed a human. “You were terrified, worried about him. You have strong feelings for him.”
“Let it go, Dawn.”
But I can’t. I care about Richard. I know he’s hurting. I think Faith might be as well. “You once said something about a night you shared together . . . when was it? A hundred years ago?”
“Ninety-eight, but who’s counting?”
“Obviously you. And Richard.”
That seems to get her attention.
“When I first met him,” I say, “I was with Victor. And so much was happening in the city, and we had no idea what was going on, and Victor was planning to overthrow his father, and you know what Richard asked? He asked if you were okay.”
With a long-suffering sigh, she sits up. “You’re like a little parakeet I once had. It kept chewing on its cage, on the exact same spot, for two years. It drove me mad, so one night I opened the cage and the bird flew away. Do you know what happened next?”
“What?”
“The thing came back and kept chewing.”
I laugh a little.
“I know you care about him,” I say.
“The parakeet?”
“No. Richard.”
“Don’t be silly. I can’t. I won’t.” She studies me for a moment. “We should do something special with your hair before we go to see the Council.”
“Faith.” Reaching across, I grab her hands, feel her tense up, see her eyes widen in alarm, but I’m not going to let go.
“What are you doing?” she whispers, and I wonder if she ever lets anyone truly touch her. Not in the flirtatious way that Xavier did, but in a comforting way.
“You can confide in me,” I tell her.
“You’re human. You have emotions. You’d never understand.”
“Try me.”
“We can’t love.”
“You love Victor.”
“No. I . . . he’s my brother. I don’t want him to do something that will get him killed, that’s all.”
“Because you care about him. That’s love. What happened that night with Richard?”
She shakes her head, squeezes my hands. “He was sweet.”
“Go on,” I prod.
“We . . . he was my first. Oh, hell, he’s been my only, but don’t you dare tell him that.”
She looks totally disgruntled.
“Your secret’s safe with me,” I assure her.
“It better be. I can take you out without even mussing up my hair.”
I don’t think I’d go down that easy, but I’m not going to fall for her change in topic. “So you regret that you were together?”
“Of course I do.”
I wrinkle my nose. “He wasn’t any good?”
“Richard’s good at everything. But that night I was so nervous. He was tender, gentle, made me feel safe.” She rolls her eyes. “Then he spoiled it all by telling me that he loved me.”
“And you didn’t believe him? Faith, I’ve seen the way he looks at you—”
“No, I did believe him. That’s why . . . I want forever and we don’t get that.”
I stare at her, trying to make sense of her words. “You don’t die. Of course, you get forever.”
“Not when it comes to love. Don’t you see? He won’t love me forever, and when he casts me aside, it’ll hurt. It’s better not to fall into that whirlpool of emotions.”
“So you’re scared.”
“I’m practical. My mother was cast aside. Victor’s mother was cast aside. Sin’s.”
“Maybe Richard loves you enough to hold you forever.”
“But what if he doesn’t?”
“Sometimes you just have to take a chance.”
“Yeah, well, right now, I think I’m taking enough chances. You are aware, aren’t you, that we might not leave this city alive?” She pulls free of my hold, lies down, and presents her back to me. “And I need my beauty sleep.”
“You know, Faith,” I say quietly, “vampires and humans—we’re not so different. We all want to be loved forever. It’s scary to trust someone with our hearts, but if we don’t . . . loneliness can hurt, too.”
She doesn’t say anything. Sliding under the covers, I stare at the darkness hovering around the edges of the room. So much is at stake tomorrow, but I somehow manage to slip into the black and fall asleep.
Chapter 10
I awake to the rumble of thunder. Through narrowed eyes, I watch Faith sitting at the vanity, clipping up her red hair with a diamond-encrusted comb. She’s dressed in her usual attire of crimson leather pants and a scarlet silk blouse. Her heels match the outfit.
Sitting up, I freeze at the sight of a pile of clothes at the foot of the bed on my side.
“You’ll want to wear those,” Faith says as she rises gracefully to her feet.
I inch forward and touch the supple black leather. “I brought a suit of my own.”
“This will hug your body, make it easier to move if we get into a fight.”
I jerk my gaze over to her. “You really think that’s going to happen?”
“We just need to be prepared. You’ll also want to wear your hair up, show the ink on your neck.” She tosses me a pearl comb.
I study it. It’s beautiful, but I can tell that it’s ancient, maybe as ancient as some of the vampires I’ll meet today.
Faith walks to the door, stops. “I don’t want anything to happen to you because you mean something to Victor, not because you mean anything to me.”
She does care, whether it’s for Victor or me. She just can’t admit it.
“I get that,” I tell her.
“Good.” She glances back. “Dinner is on its way up, so hurry.”
As I get dressed, I have to admit that the leather feels great against my skin and it moves with me. Because it fits so snugly, it doesn’t get in the way when I test it with a few defensive moves. The top is a little low for my tastes, but Faith provided me with a sleek jacket that goes over it. Guess she knows me better than I realized. I wear my hair up like she suggested. Then I strap on the holster and stake that Victor gave me shortly after we first met.
I study my reflection in the mirror. I look kick-ass tough.
When I step out of the room, my gaze immediately goes to Victor. He’s standing near the center window, the draperies pulled back. I can hear the rain hitting the glass and am vaguely aware of lightning flashing in the distance. But my attention is riveted on him. He’s wearing a dark blue suit. The corner of a red handkerchief embroidered with two overlapping Vs peers out from the pocket over his heart. He looks Old Family, so incredibly Old Family.
He gives me a long, slow once-over. “Nice.”
I tug on the jacket. “I’m not sure this is really me, but it doesn’t hamper movement, so I’ll live with it.
”
“Don’t even think about swapping the jacket for a hoodie,” Faith says.
I glance over my shoulder and see her sitting on the couch, wineglass in hand. Richard is standing off to the side, also drinking wine. He’s wearing a suit very much like Victor’s, only it’s brown. It matches the leather in the narrow strip of braided hair that runs along the side of his head. I want to tell him not to give up on Faith, to persevere, but I suppose after ninety-eight years, his patience is probably wearing thin.
We all sit down to dinner. Rare steaks. The potatoes are covered in cheese. The others don’t bother with those, which leaves more for me.
“I can’t believe the hotel has a cook when it has no guests,” I say.
“Louis prepared the meal,” Victor says. “He kind of takes care of everything.”
From my place at the table, I have a perfect view of New Vampiria. Every time the lightning illuminates the sky, I see the silhouettes of crumbling structures. In books, I’ve seen pictures of the world before the war. We lost so much. The very foundation of our society. For some reason, I thought the remnants of it would still exist here.
“What are you thinking about?” Victor asks.
“Tegan. She told me to go to a museum for her. Is there even one here?”
“There is. Maybe we can find time for it after we visit with the Council.”
“Really?” Faith asks. “We’re going to go sightseeing?”
“If we have the opportunity,” Victor tells her.
“You’re optimistic.” She looks at me. “You do know that bringing a human into the Council chambers is punishable by death.”
“What?” I set down my fork. The steak that was tasting so good is suddenly heavy in my stomach.
“Faith exaggerates,” Victor says. “Besides, you’re not completely . . . human.”
“Have you heard from the Council?” I ask.
“Yes, they’re granting us an audience at nine.”
“And it includes me?”
“It does.”
I shove my plate aside. This is exactly what I was hoping for, but I’m not sure I really thought it would happen. I think about the two months of training that Rachel put me through before I ever was alone with Valentine. Everything had to be perfect: my dress, my manners, my knowledge of etiquette. One wrong move and he would have killed me. The oldest of Old Family are not very tolerant of mistakes.
“Maybe we should practice, go over the rules of etiquette, make sure that I don’t mess this up.”
Victor takes my hand. “Just be yourself.”
“And nauseatingly polite,” Richard adds.
“Don’t speak unless spoken to,” Faith tosses in.
“Never turn your back on the Council,” Richard says.
“Never raise your voice,” Faith counters.
“Never insult.”
“Never anger.”
“Never trust.”
“Never expect understanding.”
“All right, enough!” Victor demands, and I think that, like me, he realizes that Faith and Richard weren’t really offering me advice on the Council as much as they were referring to each other. “I need to know you both have our backs.”
“My loyalty doesn’t shift,” Richard says.
“You’re my brother. You can count on my support,” Faith assures him.
“Good.” Victor turns his attention back to me. “Speak with confidence. Don’t let them intimidate you. You’ve seen what Sin is capable of. You know his plans better than anyone. You must convince the Council that we are on the brink of being destroyed.”
I swallow, lick my lips. “Okay, no pressure there.”
“Just remember that we’re behind you,” Richard says.
“Standing beside me would be better.”
Victor smiles. “At this moment, you are our most formidable weapon against Sin.”
The great tower in the center of the city seems to be the only impressive thing within New Vampiria. After driving through the streets and seeing the cracked walls on nearly every building and the trash that litters the gutters, I’m pleased that at least something lives up to the image in my head of the vampire capital. The tower was obviously built before anything else. With so much effort placed in its design and structure, it appears nothing was left for the rest of the city. Every stone is meticulously set. The buttresses holding it up are decorated with gargoyles and demons and winged creatures of mythology and dream. There are few windows in this great monolith, giving the pillar a dominating presence, something that lacks soul and contains only raw power.
We walk up the steps to the massive wooden doors, ten times as tall as they are wide. Two guards stand watch, their dark suits unbuttoned, revealing a bandolier of stakes. With us in his wake, Victor approaches them without hesitation.
“The human is my guest,” he says to the guards. “She is not to be touched.”
Victor pushes open the doors and we follow him inside.
I can feel the emptiness of this tower. Hallways that are far too long and ceilings that are far too tall create drafts, as though the building has its own weather pattern. Massive chandeliers hang above us, the long candles dripping molten wax as the flames flicker. They do their best to light this place but barely illuminate the floor, let alone the walls off in the distance.
Every step we take echoes.
“It’s a long climb,” Victor says as we reach a staircase at the end of the circular room, a staircase that winds itself up and up and up. Worst of all, it has no railings. One slip and it’s a long way down. I suppose vampires don’t have to worry about such things—like cats, they always land softly on their feet, no matter the height.
After circling the room three times we arrive on the next floor, an empty space, large and filled with couches without sitters, a bar without occupants, a pool table without players. It’s sad, an unappreciated playroom. We continue the climb to the next floor: something of a library, though so few lamps are lit that it’s difficult to tell. This tower seems more and more like a ghost house, one that never wanted to exist in the first place.
Eventually we do find life: a Lesser servant who quickly disappears around a corner, perhaps out of respect for Victor. A few floors later, we arrive at what is clearly the guests’ quarters. I remember Victor said that humans aren’t allowed in the council chamber itself, so this is where they must wait. Their purpose is to feed their masters. They are all young and gorgeous, carefully dressed and made up like dolls that have the audacity to live and breathe. Boys and girls, no older than myself. All of them wear thick, black collars to hide what I know are the bite marks of their masters. Some, slightly older, wear them on their wrists as well. Vamp bites leave scars if the vampire isn’t careful, and I have a feeling that their masters aren’t. After all, in a vampire’s eyes, a human is easily replaced with another. As long as the heart beats and the blood flows, what’s the difference?
I get glassy-eyed stares from some in the room. I realize they think I’m one of them, merely a plaything and food source. I feel sorry for them, and I’m glad when we continue up the stairs.
We have to be near the top of the tower when the stairs end at a hallway. It’s narrow and cramped, an odd choice compared to the rest of the grand, but empty, design of this place.
“Are you ready?” Victor asks me, already halfway toward a door.
“Yes,” I say with so much conviction it frightens me. Because I’m not nervous. I have been every step of the way, but these last few are the easiest. The journey, which started back when I was a scared girl trapped in a closet as my brother was taken, will end behind this door that holds the most powerful vampires in the world. And I won’t bow to them. They will bow to me. Because this city has shown me everything I need to know. The Old Families aren’t powerful, they’re feeble.
Victor gives me one final look, both hands on the massive doors. I nod and he pushes them open.
Chapter 11
The V
ampire Council. I’m staring at it. The heart that moves the world is right in front of me. Thirteen vampires sit around a large, wooden table, a single chandelier hanging from the ceiling. On the walls, misaligned portraits of their ancestors, painted by some long-forgotten artist in an era left to history books. Thirteen Old Family vampires. Some are elderly, ancient even, with straggly gray hair that hangs on only by some miracle. Others are younger and appear to be Clive’s age, even though they may be pushing five hundred. At least one is the same age as Victor but not nearly as handsome, his plump body giving way to a rotund and almost-teenish face.
And one woman. She must be Lilith. She’s intimidating, reflecting an aged beauty that is timeless yet frightening. Her stare is stern and cold, as though she’s uninterested in things that don’t bleed for her. I’m reminded of a school mistress from classrooms that could only be found in a child’s nightmare. I guess I was hoping for someone a little, I don’t know, softer.
None of them stand up or offer us seats. They simply turn as little as possible to get a view of their new guests. It doesn’t even seem like we interrupted anything, and I can easily imagine this group gathering dust while waiting for some important news to come their way.
“Forgive my absence,” Victor says. “I should have reported immediately once my father was no longer head of the family. But I trust you received word from the messenger I sent.”
Victor is speaking more formally, melding into the world in which he’s lived for four hundred years. For his efforts, he receives a bored pause, while each of the Old Family look at each other, wondering who will bother speaking first. One of the oldest finally does.
“Yes, we were informed by your messenger that changes were afoot. Not exactly proper, but that isn’t unusual for the House of Valentine.”
“I beg your pardon, Lord Paxton?” Victor asks, a calm but immensely powerful tone in his voice that demands everyone be held accountable for what they say in front of him.
“Your father chose to abandon his post here and live near that city.” He says the last word with disgust, as though it tastes bad on his tongue. “A very, very disrespectful thing to do.”