by Lexi Ostrow
“Turn to the right,” he instructed as she reached the top of the second flight. “I see. Our grand hall holds much of what you speak. Our visitors, lest they are seeking out a spot on the board, are not permitted entry beyond that hall.”
“Do you not wish to create an environment your members can be proud of?” Her hands fell to her hips. “The Steam Guild has photos covering much of the walls, plans, and patterns for our inventions, or simply something to enhance the space.”
Sucking in a breath, he realized how feminine the daring woman was. Even with her position and her obvious intelligence, there was a little bit of a ton woman resting inside her soul. “You are implying you did such things to your guild.”
“I am implying I helped, and that my mother before me did, yes. Is the nature of your work so doom and gloom you could not brighten up the place? A positive frame of mind goes quite a long way to success.”
“Yes, well, my guild has never seen fit to request or complain. Three doors to your left.” He gestured, wondering if there were any truth to what she spoke. “Do your associates live within the guild walls that you feel a need to add décor?”
She twisted the knob on the door he instructed and sent it flying inward. If there had ever been any intention of her responding to his question, it was lost.
Raven’s intake of breath was not to be missed. “Oh, my lord.” She whispered, one hand coming up to cover her mouth as she turned to face him. “It is remarkable.” She spun back to look into the chamber. “May I go in?”
His laughter was contained in his smirk. In such a short time, Benjamin had found enjoyed the sense of wonder he heard in her tone. Once upon a time, he enjoyed inventing things simply to improve lives . . . not to save them. He often looked upon the workshop with awe and glory when he’d been but a babe running in to learn more of his family legacy.
Six rows of nine desks filled the large room. Each one was occupied by an electrician, either apprentice or master – there was no true distinction when working to save the city. Some heads were lifted in their direction, seeing who dared to enter during creation hours, but most remained with their attention focused on their craft.
“The light, it’s much softer in here,” Raven noted as she passed two workers, peering over their shoulders as she did. “What ever are they creating?”
“Their projects are not known to me.”
She cocked her head, one black brow lifted. “Do you not approve of all assets and projects?”
Shite. He hadn’t realized it, but it was damn likely Christopher would indeed know everything about his guild. Lie. “In your guild, are such matters not concern of the council?”
Her expression changed, her eyebrow dropped, and her gaze widened. “My governing body is referred to as the board.” She shook her head, continuing to look around the room as she spoke. “I had not thought of that. What an interesting, yet peculiar, way of handling things.” Raven resumed her walk down the aisle. “Does it make for less stress upon yourself in not handling funding?”
He swallowed, wishing he’d never stepped foot into the bloody lie. His heart thumped rapidly in his chest, and he spoke before he thought.
“I am not the leader.”
Nearly ten and thirty heads whipped in his direction, Raven’s amongst them.
“Ah, I understand. You are more of a figurehead, allowing your council to do much of the work so that you might invent still.” She grinned. “Intriguing!”
She doesn’t get it. Tell her you’re not Christopher Abbott.
The words wouldn’t come. Benjamin was too desperate to not only continue time in her presence to understand why he was so attracted to her but to reunite their guilds. His lie could destroy that.
Cleaning his throat, he looked at the pairs of eyes searching his, waiting for permission to speak or to continue their work in silence. “Yes, it is rather enjoyable. Come, let me show you to our hall of wonders. It is where we keep all first designs of a successful invention.” Once more, he placed his hand on her lower back and led her from the room.
If the vampires don’t murder me, this falsehood surely might!
Chapter Six
“There are so few moments before the sun rises, are you certain?” Terrance, a once worthless beggar who had risen thanks to his cunning and lack of morals, climbed up beside Silas.
Silas let his gaze roam out over the palace garden below them. The tree was a vantage spot he had often utilized to catch a wayward royal as they pretended they were safe behind their stone walls.
“No one is safe. We have not ventured here out of fear.” He pointed a finger at the trio of guards stationed at the drawbridge. “There is not even a moat here, that drawbridge seeks to keep us out, yet they do nothing to protect themselves from the sky.” He scoffed, realizing how simple it would have been to attack London’s dearest ages ago. “If we want respect, we must take it. If we ever long for an eve where we do not scurry around like rats, we must take it. I am done with the shadows. We once outnumbered the healthy, and thanks to their greed, many of us have fully succumbed to the death this curse has brought. That stops now.”
“I follow where you lead,” Terrance looked down and behind them at the six men who were there to feed once the message was delivered. “They have gone much time without fresh blood. Their illness will take them by the next lunar cycle if we do not help them this night.”
Silas knew the fate of his kind, and of the remnants of humanity, rested on his ability to barter with the most powerful leader in the world. Closing his eyes, he let the soft caress of moonlight guide him as he stepped off the tree branch, landing squarely inside the courtyard walls.
“Halt! Who goes there?” A palace guard on the other side of the wall spoke as he fumbled to slip a key into the lock to let down the drawbridge.
“Now.” He did not bother to look up as he gave the command.
Terrance joined him on the ground the moment the drawbridge fell.
“Sound the –”
Terrance snapped the man’s neck with the ease that only came from a healthy man – or a man who had sated his need for blood recently. Another guard rushed in and fired a shot that was done in a panic and missed entirely, but likely drew attention. Reaching out, Silas dug his claw-like nails into the guard, noticing Terrance as he subdued the final nearby sentry. He was strong for his kind, made that way with a daily supply of blood many did not get. A kind that Silas ensured his guard would always get.
Silas’ struck, taking a small amount of blood to ensure he too remained stronger than most. His sharpened teeth dripped with blood as he retracted them from the man’s neck. It hadn’t been a clean kill. He rarely bothered with those now that he was considered a demon. The warm trickle of life slid down his chin, and though he knew it was illogical, he swore he felt his body come to life with every taste.
“Now,” he dropped the dying guard to the ground and pulled out his pocket square to wipe his face. He’d been rich before the disease had stolen his life from him, and certain habits did not vanish. “If you are ready to listen, I am ready to talk.”
The remaining living guard nodded, the only thing he could around the chokehold of sorts Terrance had him in.
“Very well. I demand an audience with the king. If you see that he is brought out, I will ensure, on my honor, that he is not murdered where he stands.” He nearly warned the man his mask would be ripped off his face if he did not, but he deigned not too.
The man spat at them, and Silas sighed dramatically. “Very well, then.” With a nod of his own to Terrance, the man’s mask was torn off. “Give him to the others, let them heal themselves before he succumbs to the disease.” He looked to the turrets, seeing the guards racing toward them and cupped his hands over his mouth. “There are many more of those of us you call vampires outside this fortress – ones who can enter as easily as I did. We will not hesitate to attack and drain you all.”
A bullet shot through the night with a puff o
f smoke and whizzed mere millimeters from his arm.
“I will overlook your attack as I know you fear us. Bring your king to me, and no others die this night.”
As anticipated, the guards who appeared from higher points and near the castle itself lowered their weapons. A voice called from somewhere near the northwest tower.
“How are we to trust you?”
A grin spread across his lips. “As I said, there are plenty more of us outside these walls with easy ways in – and that is not including the fact that your little bridge is down and any could walk right in. Discharge your weapon in my direction once again, and I will command them to come in. My kind needs your kind . . . we kill you all, and we die as well. I kill everyone here. I never see your king. You’ll have to trust a monster.”
He spun, trying to find the initial speaker, but did not have any luck. He was not a preternatural creature, and his vision in the dark of night was as useless as anyone else’s. Another warrior spoke the response.
“I do not wish to believe our defenses are so easily gotten through, but I will compromise as enough blood has been spilled this night. I speak on behalf of the Captain, as he is indisposed. If you and your . . . colleague . . . will step against the wall, I will bring the king.”
Silas spied the guard, standing just above him in the center of the top level. The man’s age was impossible to discern behind the protective mask and goggles, but he had a wisdom to his tone that indicated he knew the dangers of a double cross.
“Do as the man says,” Silas spoke as he walked toward the wall, motioning for Terrance to do the same.
None of the guards made a move to attack, yet he noticed a significant number had lifted their firearms again. They fear us when they have the upper hand. My, my, we have truly created a visage for ourselves these past years as we’ve struggled to survive.
The time passed at an inconsequential rate. Silas assumed it would take at the very least ten and five minutes to rouse the man, convince him to dress and return. He let his eyes wander, wondering if the garden would ever fall prey to the toxin in the air that destroyed humanity.
“Are you certain this is not a trap?” Terrance did not bother to lower his voice as he spoke.
Silas turned his gaze from a topiary to look at the man who had been his fiercest defender. “I am certain of nothing save for the demand I will be placing before the mighty ruler. The length of time that has passed is not yet alarming. While we convinced the sentries to listen, their lives were in imminent danger. It would not surprise me if the King is not agreeable. I am also awaiting an attack, they fear us, but I do not yet believe they won’t try to attack.”
As he spoke, a strange squealing sound filled the air from the direction of the castle. Once again, his attention was drawn to something other than where it had been.
“Bloody hell, that was ingenious.” He couldn’t stop his lips from curving into a smirk.
A cage on wheels, with very narrow metal bars, was being pushed from behind toward his location. The king, wearing little more than his Royal Surcoat to cover his undergarments stood in the center with a crown perched regally upon his dark black hair and hands gripping onto the bars while his face was set in a scowl.
“What is the meaning of this?” King Clarence’s voice boomed through the space, certainly waking many inside in the palace walls despite being in the garden.
“I come with an offer, Your Majesty.” As he’d been trained, Silas bowed accordingly, though he knew the king understood the mockery he made of the gesture.
“I know you.” It was not a question.
“I once sat as a member of Court. I had land, a beautiful wife, and a small family. It does surprise me to know you recognize me as this illness as destroyed all that I was.” He was impressed. The king had never struck him as an attentive man, something that made his bargaining chip even sweeter. He could not resist. “Tell me, what do you hope to gain by placing yourself into . . . a box.”
“The key is deep within the palace walls. Should you destroy my guards, you will still not retrieve me. The bars are heavy, the wheels cast iron. You cannot reach through them to remove the mask that protects me from your fate. I am safe within this box, as you referred to it.”
Silas had been amused when the cage had been wheeled before him, now he was impressed. The human had indeed found a way to meet with him safely. It was as if he’d been waiting for a meeting for some time. He would never gain entry behind the walls as none knew of the secrets to open a palace lock, and he would not risk his light when the sun rose to see who retrieved the king. For the moment, all he had was his threats . . . and he would keep them if it came to it.
“Speak. I understand you have murdered members of my guard in the request of this audience. Do not waste my time.”
“Very well.” Silas intertwined his fingers and pressed his palms against his chest. “Let me start with a reminder that any harm that befalls me, those hungry outside the palace walls have been ordered to destroy any life, even if it means they are caught in the sun. I do not advise signaling a guard to attempt to end my life.” There was no comment from the man, so Silas continued. “My kind are sick. We have been forced to be monsters to survive. We are not fools. We would gladly return to the old way of life, where the healthy willingly shared their blood.”
“I will never make such a decree. Your kind grew vicious and killed when more blood was desired. There was once a time when you were destroying what remained of the healthy human race.”
“The world creating a law against helping is what sent us into the darkness to become what we are now.” Anger stirred within him, and he knew he needed to remain calm if his threats were going to be taken with any seriousness. “I am not here to barter. I am here to tell you if you do not relinquish three sources a day to my nest, I will continue to creep into the city and kill. We would not kill indiscriminately and quickly as we have, no, we will capture and allow our victims a slow death. Mothers, sons, fathers . . . all disappearing off of London’s streets one by one to help keep us alive.”
Fear flashed across the great king’s face—a flicker that lasted merely a moment, but one that colored his expression in unimaginable ways. The king was afraid of the threat, he was afraid to spill more blood.
“Never.”
“Pardon me?” the king’s single word took him aback, he had been certain the fear meant an agreement.
“I will never force my people to act as donors for yours. We were all human once, but we are not the monsters. We did not retreat without just cause. We will not offer ourselves up. Come at my people, my land. The Great Guilds are working. You will be driven from London even if we have to create a curfew for all.” The man’s bushy black brows knit together as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Slaughter all the men in this courtyard if you must, they have pledged their lives to this country – but I promise you – the devils you claim are hiding cannot enter as quickly as my men can shoot.”
His eyes locked with that of the royal man trapped like an animal before him, waiting to see if the man would order an attack. The ruler did not flinch, his furious gaze boring into Silas’ until he turned to look at Terrance.
“London has made its choice.” He boasted loudly for all in the vicinity to hear. “We will move our hunts in. We will make deaths long. We will survive, however, by any means necessary, and we will no longer hide in the shadows.”
The skin on his arms prickled. He had not intended to declare war, but it felt empowering to bring his people the leadership they truly needed.
“Come then,” he motioned to Terrance. “Let us take our leave.” He was not sure bullets would not be shot, but still, he turned and walked until he reached the level that unhinged the drawbridge. As it lowered, the king would be able to see what was left of the guard that had been given to the three hungry creatures on the other side. With a wave, he crossed under the stone wall, ready for the new way of life, prepared to be a true hunter.
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Chapter Seven
The stitches in Raven’s neck itched severely, but she refrained from such an unladylike interaction as tending them while being seated for a meal. Yes, because your manners when his lips met yours were befitting a woman of your class. The sneered thought was upsetting, but she held no remorse for her actions.
She’d often heard of women who fell in love with their savior purely because they were heroic. In her situation, her savior was handsome and strikingly intelligent as well. While it did not justify her lewd behavior, it certainly explained her eagerness.
His kiss had been unlike any she’d received in her lifetime. It had been commanding, and yet, it had been he who’d remembered decorum and had ceased their engagements before she’d done anything to tarnish her name. Christopher Abbott had no knowledge of her previous dalliances, and as she’d journeyed to his guild to forge an alliance, she had agreed it was not in their best interest to continue.
Even if she could still feel his body pressed against hers many hours later. Focus, bloody hell, it was one kiss.
Two days – or perhaps it was three – she had lost count, had passed since she’d left and ordered men to their deaths. She and Christopher had set course for his home as soon as the sun had risen after he allowed her to see his guild. Slept still felt like a distant dream, but she was recovering, she knew as much with her renewed energy.
As intriguing as the guild was, Raven was even more fascinated by the use of electric products in his home – they far outnumbered the sparse few in her guild, and even those of the aristocracy she had tea with on occasion. Though his home was not as grand as the one she inherited upon her family’s death, it was outfitted with every manner of invention she could think of. It was assumedly how he showed his wealth, through his personal access to creations few others had access to.