by E E Everly
“All pleasantries aside,” I say. “We’re looking for a demon, and we don’t plan to stay long. Tell us where he is, and we shall go.” Ciprian will not be happy to see us, particularly Thandoran.
Vadik laughs, throwing his head back as if what I’ve said is the most hilarious thing he’s ever heard.
Thandoran rounds his eyes and nudges me toward the front door. Vadik snaps to composure. “Please. This way. If you wish to see Isac, you must meet with the master, and I’m afraid he’s simply not available right now, so you must wait. For your own safety, I would recommend a room.”
For my own safety? I glance around the entry hall, suddenly experiencing the unsettling feeling of eyes on us. More vampires? Or something else entirely? “All right. We’ll play your game. Show us to a room.” Meanwhile, I try not to hyperventilate. We’re on Ciprian’s turf. The longer we stay, the more control he’ll have over us and our lives.
“Right this way”—Vadik gestures with his hands— “princess.”
It’s my turn to round my eyes at Thandoran. Vadik knows I’m a princess. Who told him? Does this mean Ciprian knows? Had he told Vadik? Which would mean Ciprian knew Thandoran and I would come here at some point.
We walked right into a trap.
But I won’t abandon my mission. I will find Isac.
I just hope it won’t kill me.
With his hand in mine, Thandoran and I follow Vadik, taking the left corridor. We don’t say anything as we pass a dining hall on the left. The doors are open enough for me to see servants setting a long table big enough to seat fifty. How many vampires will be at this dinner? I inhale carefully. Humans. The servants are human. No doubt under compulsion. No doubt blood donors as well.
The dread in my stomach grows. Why am I allowing Vadik to lead us deeper into the castle?
Bide your time. Wait until we’re alone, and then Thandoran and I can hunt for Isac.
I try to feel brave, but I huddle close to Thandoran, keeping an eye on my surroundings. Between sconces, black and white portraits cover the walls. Some of individuals and some of families. All with straight mouths and emotionless eyes. The carpet is so thick that my boots sink in. The air is heavy with dust. The many credenzas and side tables we pass are gothic in style—ornamented and intricate.
At the end of the first corridor, past the dining hall, a grand staircase sweeps upward, but we don’t ascend it. We turn left and continue down a narrow corridor, one without doors. It’s claustrophobic. And dripping with magic, ancient magic that waits, that holds its breath, waiting to be called into action.
Thandoran’s nostrils flare as he breathes. He keeps his eyes glued to the back of Vadik’s head. I’m trying hard to breathe steady and to not hang on Thandoran’s bicep for comfort.
We round another corner. This corridor has doors. I count them. After six, we reach a smaller staircase. One that goes up and down. If this is the ground floor, I’d hate to know where those stairs descend to.
Coffins? Corpses? Things that creep in the night?
We move past those stairs too. After passing one more room, we stop at a door.
End of the line. At least Vadik didn’t escort us to dungeons. He unlocks the door from a set of keys that appears in his hand. Did he summon them with magic or did his hand move so fast I didn’t see where he pulled them from? He pushes the door open and flicks on a light—a meager glow from two sconces flanking the dark fireplace on the opposite wall. Modern electricity in an old castle. Why not? Vampires can compel electricians to do the job for free.
I check for magic in the room. There are no wards, just a stale chill. We should be safe from imprisonment, unlike my time at Vondur Estates with Killian. Come to think of it, I haven’t felt Killian for a while. Most likely, he’s with Kili. I didn’t think to let him know that Thandoran and I had another destination after our stop at demon central.
Killian said he could find Kili by just thinking of him, so why not me? He’ll come later. I don’t have to be scared. I’m not alone anyway. I’m with Thandoran.
I step into the room when Vadik gestures, and tote Thandoran along. He’s clearly hesitant, not trusting Vadik, our surroundings, and probably me at this point.
A king-sized bed takes up the wall opposite the fireplace. An armoire fills a corner and a desk and chair the other. Two chairs sit cozily on a hearth rug.
I run my fingers over the mahogany bedframe. No dust. Someone keeps this room clean, almost as if guests come calling regularly.
Guests that come for a drink and then become the drink?
Vadik glides across the room and flicks a switch near the fireplace. A fire jumps to life. “That should warm the room. Please. A washroom is through those doors.” He indicates a door to the left of the bed. “The bell on the wall will ring for dinner. I believe you saw the dining hall as we passed.” He turns to Thandoran. “Please. Allow me to show you to your room.”
“Nope.” Thandoran shakes his head. “Not going to happen. I’m staying with Sasha.”
The vampire’s eyes widen, and then he bows his head. “As you wish.” He whispers out of the room and closes the door.
“This is right out of a horror film.” I shrug off my backpack and out of my coat and hold my hands near the fire. “You don’t think Ciprian is an aristocratic vampire who expects his guests to dress for dinner, do you?” He’s getting nothing but jeans and T-shirts from me. Curious though, I open the armoire.
Gowns. Gowns in every style. From the early fifteenth century to the mid-eighteen hundreds. I think. I didn’t pay much attention to clothing styles during Earth History. There’s definitely a range. Some narrow and body skimming, and others full and frilly.
I hug a fluffy, dark green dress to my body and grin at Thandoran. Though I’m joking, I say, “What do you think?”
He doesn’t glance up. His compass is out and open in the palm of his hand. “You can play dress up if you want, but I’m going to look for Isac.”
I throw the dress on the bed and peer over his arm. The crystal points to the right of the room, as if to urge us into the castle from the way we came. Another wing on the other side? The distance alone would make it hard to sneak around, especially if we have to pass the servants preparing for dinner. “Back down the hall?” I squeak.
“Let’s go.” Thandoran tosses me my backpack. “Keep your ambrosia close.”
We crack the door to the corridor enough to peek out. No signs of life. Undead or otherwise. With a warm hand, Thandoran pulls me after himself. We head the way we came, but stop at the smaller staircase near our room.
“Let’s head up,” he says. “We can avoid the bustle of the ground floor.”
“Okay.” I grip his hand as we creep up the red carpet. We pass two landings and stop at the top in an empty corridor.
“Left or right?” I ask.
“We keep moving left. It looks like this corridor follows the one below it.”
We pass a few doors. I don’t want to know what’s behind them, if anyone stays in them. It’s most likely more vampires. Are they in residence? Out hunting for innocent humans? Or are they arriving with the master? Ciprian could be bringing a whole entourage from Deorc Mansion.
Everything is so eerily still that I find myself tiptoeing.
“You don’t have to do that.” Thandoran leans around a corner to check that everything is clear. I lean against him, trying to peek around him, but I’m momentarily distracted by his smell. Citrus. As if he bathed in it. It must be leaking out of his pores by now. Killian once told me I smelled of cream and sugar.
That’s what happens when we consume copious amounts of ambrosia.
I inhale near Thandoran’s neck. Along with the citrus, the leather scent of his jacket has me closing my eyes and forgetting I’m in a castle of the undead.
“Sasha”—He turns to me—“I know I’m irresistible, but now is no time to indulge in fantasies.”
I shove him in the arm. “I was not…”
T
handoran smirks and tugs me around the corner. “Stay sharp.” He checks his compass. “We’re headed in the right direction.”
“Why do you suppose a demon lives here with vampires?” I whisper.
“No idea.”
The corridor reaches an end but gives us two ways to go. Left or right. The compass points right, at a door, but when we open it, a library of sorts greets us. I take a breath of relief. What if a vampire was lounging within?
“Left it is,” Thandoran says.
The left corridor takes us abruptly to another long corridor turning right. “We’re going to become lost,” I hiss in Thandoran’s ear.
“Relax. We can teleport out if we get into trouble.”
We come to the grand staircase that ascends from the ground floor. On the right is another staircase that heads to the first floor.
The compass points directly to the second stairs.
“Do we take the stairs up?” I ask.
“Not sure,” Thandoran says.
We hug the perimeter, staying away from the open grand staircase in case anyone can see us from below.
Just past the stairs leading up, another corridor goes right. Thandoran peeks around the corner and swears.
“What—?” I look past his shoulder. “Pestering Pixies!”
Vadik stands in the hall. His eyebrows quirk up. “Dinner is ready.”
Sugar nymphs. Caught. Right when we were so close.
How did he know where we were?
TWENTY-FOUR
Vadik escorts us down the grand staircase and toward the dining hall. There’s a bustle coming from the room, no doubt of people, er, vampires, taking their seats.
Thandoran and I pause at the entrance. My breath nearly escapes me. Every seat is filled except for two near the head of the table, at the far end of the room.
Every seat is filled with a vampire, that is. The scent is overwhelming, cloying. Vampires range in smells of everything enticing I can imagine. The aroma of summer, spring rains, warm cider, pumpkin pie, roses, every flower imaginable, and my favorite—strawberries and cream.
The scents are so mixed together it’s sickening. A headache forms at my temples, and I ache for ambrosia. I’m about to reach into my backpack when Vadik slips it off my shoulders. “I shall make sure this gets to your room.”
I nod numbly.
“Please”—a man stands at the head of the table, and all the eyes in the room turn toward us. Hungry eyes. Black eyes. Faces with fangs and lips that are red—“Come. Enter. Sit.”
Ciprian. Something’s different about him. His face is fuller. He’s more alive with life than when I saw him a day ago. His blond hair is thin and slicked back, but it has the shine of health.
He must have drunk blood—potent blood. Like the blood from a storm sprite—a magical elixir.
Please tell me he didn’t pay Kaelea a visit before coming here.
Or does he have a secret stockpile of storm sprite blood?
Ciprian gestures to the seats to his right.
His presence is commanding. I’m drawn forward, carefully stepping past the vampires. Thandoran is at my side. I feel his eyes on me. He says something, but I don’t hear him.
All I see is Ciprian.
To my relief, he’s dressed in casual slacks and a collarless black shirt that’s unbuttoned to show blond chest hair. He’s relaxed and has the slightest smile twinging at his lips.
Ciprian doesn’t say a word as I come closer. Thandoran still mumbles, but my eyes are locked with Ciprian. I can’t look anywhere else, and I fully acknowledge this.
His compulsion is not to be denied.
Villainous vampires.
I stop behind the seat to his right, on the long side of the table. Ciprian’s smile broadens. “Welcome”—his voice is thick, greedy—“Princess Sasha, to my home.” He kisses the back of my hand.
I resist the urge to cringe as his lips come away. His warm hand lingers. His pink mouth is straight and tight when he’s not smiling. It adds an air of sternness to his draw.
I can’t tear my eyes away, and Ciprian is captivated by them, or maybe he’s fantasizing about how good I’d taste.
Thandoran clears his throat.
Ciprian doesn’t lift his eyes from mine. He gestures to my seat. “Please. Sit.” He slides the chair out for me, and I sit, but I’m far from comfortable. I dare to glance at the vampires across from me.
They’re all the same. Thin, noble, with a gothic air. Ready for a taste of storm sprite blood. I hope for one second that Natalia and Dumitru are here, but as I sweep the length of the table, I’m disappointed. They don’t run in aristocratic vampire circles.
Ciprian graciously gestures for Thandoran to sit, being such a polite host. Thandoran glares at him before settling next to me.
When Ciprian sits, servants with platters emerge from the shadows and set food before us. When they lift the lids, I’m thrilled to find a tiny roasted bird in a bed of greens with radishes, and savory mushrooms in a creamy sauce. The server sets down a dainty pewter goblet of, what I can tell from the smell, straight cream and sugar.
Thandoran’s meal has much the same, but his greens are topped with tiny mandarin slices. They fill his goblet with a sparkling yellow drink. I inhale and catch the scent of grapefruit. Interesting.
Ciprian has the same bird in front of him. This draws my attention. I thought vampires couldn’t consume food, just the usual blood and liquor.
The servants continue to situate our food while Ciprian talks. “Sasha, this is a treat. I haven’t dined with such an exquisite creature as yourself in a long time.”
“Just how long might that be?” Thandoran asks under his breath.
I kick him under the table. Who knows how old Ciprian is, but it’s not polite to ask.
Especially in a room full of thirsty vampires.
Ciprian laughs. “He’s fiercely protective of you.”
He is? Not by choice. I’m just an assignment from my mother.
Ciprian lifts his goblet, and several servers come forward with pitchers. The liquid is red and thick as it pours. I catch scents of red wine and blood—human blood.
Thandoran tenses. I nudge his knee with mine.
“A bit of my ambrosia, you might say.” Ciprian takes a sip and several other vampires follow his lead.
As long as they aren’t drinking my blood.
“How did you know our ambrosia?” I ask.
Ciprian sets his cup down. “I wouldn’t be a very good host if I didn’t know.”
I’m becoming creeped out by how cordial Ciprian is. Maybe it’s a show for the other vamps in the room.
Why hasn’t he killed us yet?
Thandoran and I haven’t touched our food. Ciprian picks up his utensils and slices a bite off his bird. He pops it into his mouth. “Please. Eat,” he says after he swallows.
The room becomes alive with utensil’s clinking and quiet chatter. The vampires enjoy their feast as if this is an occasion to celebrate.
Are they celebrating the presence of two tasty storm sprites? Are Thandoran and I dessert?
I eye my flatware. It’s not silver, obviously not. As I clutch them in my hands, I inhale the swirl of aromas on my plate. Nothing unusual.
Ciprian chuckles. “It’s not poisoned.”
“I wouldn’t think so.” I shove a green bean into my mouth and nudge Thandoran. He saws a piece of meat off and sniffs it before popping it into his mouth.
“You both are quite amusing.” Ciprian digs into his meal with the proper etiquette of a nobleman. Every bite he savors. He pauses between mouthfuls and engages me in polite conversation, regaling us with the history of the area and the architecture of the dining hall.
This is too weird. I’m so on edge that the food ends up as a lump in my stomach, but I can’t make myself not eat. I have to have something to do with my hands.
“So,” I say with curiosity when we’re halfway through our meal, “how are you able to digest human fo
od?”
Ciprian sets his flatware down and leans back to take a sip of his blood wine. “We can indulge. We enjoy food, the flavors. Our taste buds are so much more refined than they were when we were humans that it’s a great pleasure to sample expertly prepared foods. But we do not need to eat.”
Killian once told me that blood was all vampires needed to restore the body, that all their bodily functions were intact. Even the ability to procreate, which explains how I became pregnant. Without blood, vampires would desiccate.
Thandoran doesn’t touch a single bit of citrus on his plate nor does he drink from his goblet. He doesn’t want to lose his focus to an ambrosia-induced delirium. I’ve taken several careful sips from my cream. Every time, my mouth curls with a tickling pleasure that courses straight to my belly, but I don’t let a single moan escape my lips. I’m still so laser focused on Ciprian that it overwhelms my more sensual reaction to the ambrosia.
I wag my head and put my tiny goblet down. “Let’s stop wasting time with idle chitchat.”
Ciprian’s eyes darken. “Oh, dear Sasha. You stumbled upon my abode. You invited yourself to my castle, after you and your companion burned a hole in my mansion roof.”
Thandoran’s hand curls around his knife.
I put my hand over his, but he doesn’t relax.
“I’m sorry about the damages,” I say.
“While the repairs are being made, my kin and I have retired here.”
His kin? The vampires he turned?
“We didn’t come here intentionally,” I say. “I’m looking for Isac Vasile, and our journey led us here.”
Several of the vampires around the table snicker. What’s so funny about me looking for Isac?
“Of course,” Ciprian says. “I know all about your situation. Your curse must be lifted. I do believe I can persuade him to comply.”
Persuade, compel. Whatever. “So he’s here.” I don’t stop to consider how Ciprian knows about my curse. Everyone does. “May I see him after dinner?”
“I’m sorry to say he hasn’t been well. He’s been given a sleeping draught and will most likely be out of it until morning. You are most welcome to stay the night. I will rouse him at daybreak.”