Beth_Fantaskey-Jessicas guide to dating the dark side.

by Jessica's Guide to Dating the Dark Side (lit)

  Lucius pulled away. "Do not touch me like that, Antanasia!"

  "Why not?" I asked, dropping my voice so my family would not hear. "Because you're afraid that you'll lose control, like you did in my bedroom back home?"

  "No," he countered. "Because I fear that I shall lose control as I did with my uncle."

  "Lucius, you had to do that."

  When I said that, his eyes shifted, and he glanced at my relatives, still sitting in unsettled silence, staring at our ex­change. "Come with me." He clasped my elbow in his firm hand and led me across the room, out of earshot of my family. "We speak of private things in front of others. It is not right."

  We stopped in front of the fireplace, and the firelight cast soft, flickering shadows across Lucius's face, making him look younger again. I nearly reached out to touch his cheek. But his eyes were still too distant. Too black. "I shall tell you this, and then you shall pack your bags and go home, Jessica."

  “I m not going—“

  "You think you know me," he spoke over my objection, still clutching my arm, fingers digging in. "For some reason, although I clearly abandoned you, although I obviously wanted you to think that I was gone ... in spite of this, you cling to some desperate hope that there is a future for us. It is time I dis­avow you of that, once and for all, because we are no longer in civilized Pennsylvania, attending high school, playing at war on a basketball court. This is a war, Jessica."

  "It doesn't have to be, Lucius. I know you love me."

  "The Vladescus never acted in good faith, Jessica," Lucius continued, his mouth a grim line. "We had a plan. For you."

  "A . . . plan?"

  "Yes. I was to win you over, marry you—innocent as you were, an American teenager ignorant of vampire culture—and bring you back to Romania. The pact fulfilled, we would have waited a reasonable time, until none could accuse the Vlades­cus of violating our part of the obligation—"

  "And then?" I already know.

  Lucius stared deep into my eyes. "And then we would have discreetly dispatched you. In secret. Acting as though we mourned your loss, but quietly pleased to have the last, incon­venient Dragomir princess out of the way."

  "No, Lucius." I shook my head, horrified. I wouldn't be­lieve it. "You wouldn't have done that."

  "Oh, Antanasia. You are still so absurdly innocent. Do you think the Vladescus ever intended to share their sovereignty with an enemy?"

  No. Of course they hadn't. "How . . . how was it supposed to happen?"

  "I was not privy to those details," Lucius said. "But per­haps by my hand ... I would have had so many opportunities, alone with you in our castle."

  No, Lucius, not you.

  He gazed into the fire. "It was so perfect for us, that you had been raised in America. In their attempt to keep you safe, the Dragomirs actually doomed you. A true vampire princess would have understood the risks of marrying me. She could have protected herself, remained always alert. But you, you would have come with me willingly, never even suspecting . . ."

  I took a ragged breath, forcing myself not to cry out, cog­nizant of my family not far away. They were watching. I had to maintain my composure, although betrayal ripped through me. "You knew all this when you came to my parents' home? When you lived with us? When you kissed me?"

  Lucius, too, was aware of our audience. The misery that had seeped into his eyes was not reflected in his regal posture. "Oh, Antanasia . . . when did I know? From the beginning? Only toward the end? I am not sure. Perhaps I was innocent myself at first. Or perhaps I just deceived myself, not wanting to see the truth. But there came a time, yes, before I kissed you, when I knew that I was complicit."

  I choked back a sob, swallowing it down hard, keeping my shoulders straight. "I don't believe you."

  "Does it not make sense, Antanasia?" He glanced to my family. "Look at them. The Dragomirs are diminished. Vasile could have duped them easily and controlled them without the loss of a single Vladescu. Without a war. The only blood shed would have been yours. You were to be sacrificed in the inter­est of Vasile's little coup."

  "That was Vasile's idea," I pointed out, desperate not to be­lieve Lucius capable of destroying me. He cared for me. I felt it in his kiss, seen it in his eyes. But he's dangerous, Jessica. He doesn't want to be a Vladescu, but perhaps he always will be. "This was Vasile's plan," I repeated. "Not yours."

  "And when I saw the whole scheme in its entirety, I was thrilled by its simple brilliance. Does that sicken you, Jessica? Because it should."

  "You wouldn't have destroyed me, Lucius," I insisted. "You love me. I know you do."

  Lucius shook his head. "Only enough to tell you that I would have destroyed you. That is as much as I can give. Now go home, Jessica. Go home and despise me. I had hoped to leave you with a happier memory of me. But you have come here, and now I cannot even do that."

  "I won't leave, Lucius. If only for my family. The Dragomirs need me."

  "No, Antanasia. You give them nothing but false hope. Look at you." His gaze traveled up and down the length of my body, and again his eyes came to life, this time with deep ad­miration. Admiration I'd seen there before. "You are beautiful. Amazing. Inspiring. They will fight harder, to think that they do so for their returned princess. To think, foolishly, that you have been wronged by the failure of the pact—when in fact I saved your life by breaking the pact. They will go on believing that they have been cheated out of peace and shared power, and they will rally to fight for you. But in the end, the Vlades-cus will prevail. Do not prolong their agony or increase their losses."

  "They are already angry," I pointed out. "I can't change that. They want a war, too, unless the pact is fulfilled."

  "If you tell them to yield to me, they will," Lucius pointed out. "You are their leader. Tell them to submit to me, and then go home."

  I hesitated for a moment, considering his one-sided bar­gain. If I told my family to yield, perhaps they really would. I was their leader. I could save lives. I fingered the bloodstone at my throat, hearing my birth mother. Don't do it, Antanasia. . . . Don't make your first act one of submission, even to Lucius. Espe­cially, now, to Lucius. . .

  "No," I said firmly. "You did destroy the pact, you are to blame for ruining the peace, and the Dragomirs will not kneel before a ... a bully."

  Lucius smiled at that, a small shadow of his old mocking smile. "Is that what you think me to be, Jessica? That I am a bully, like pathetic Frank Dormand?"

  "You're worse," I said.

  His smile grew sad. "Indeed I am. Frank, for all his faults, for all his small cruelties, never even dreamed of destroying a woman as magnificent as you."

  I was still struggling to find the right words to reply when Lucius turned on his heel and left us.

  Chapter 63

  AFTER MY FAMILY departed, none of us having even touched the feast that had been carefully prepared to celebrate my return, I retreated to my room, where I sat for several hours, pulling a chair up to the leaded windows, just staring into the darkness. I couldn't even think about sleeping.

  What can I do to save my family? To save Lucius? Can I still save Lucius—or is he really beyond redemption, as he believed?

  Outside, a wolf howled in the mountains. I had never heard a live wolf cry out before, only in movies or on TV, and the sound, carrying across the wilderness, was so mournful that it nearly made me cry. Everything about my trip was summed up by that miserable, beautiful, poignant sound. Lucius was alive—but he might as well have been gone. My heart still ached, perhaps more, because I had entertained such high hopes for our reunion. Lucius had been right. It had not gone as planned. I was devastated to find him so changed.

  And the revelation about the plot to destroy me .. . that had shaken me to the core. Yet I didn't believe that Lucius had been complicit, as he'd said. The plan was Vasile's strategy. Per­haps there had been a time when Lucius, twisted and nearly crushed under Vasile's thumb, would have been capable of en­tertaining the possibility of suc
h a dark act. But he'd changed in the United States. As he'd said himself, he'd seen a new way. He had told me, "For my children, it could have been different..."

  I also recalled his words earlier that very evening. "I saved your life by breaking the pact."

  By refusing to honor the clans' agreement, Lucius had ac­tively striven to save me from Vasile's scheme, willingly risking his own life. He had known that Vasile would try to destroy him for insubordination.

  Lucius would always protect me.

  For all my parents' warnings about the Vladescus' ruthless-ness, for all Lucius's own vehement assertions that he was dan­gerous to me, I knew differently.

  But how could I make Lucius believe that he would never do me harm? That we still belonged—and would always be­long—together?

  There were no answers in the blackness outside the win­dow, so I rose from my seat and opened my suitcase to unpack. At the very least, I will not run home, as Lucius desired.

  As I unfolded my clothes, my copy of Growing Up Undead, which I'd tucked in at the last minute, tumbled to the floor. Picking it up, I thought back to the day I'd discovered the man­ual near my bedroom door, Lucius's bookmark gleaming in the morning sun. I'd hated the gift, then. But Lucius had been right. In spite of its cloying tone, the book had been a good guide through a confusing time. An accurate resource. Almost like a confidante, when there'd been no one else with whom I could discuss the changes taking place in my body, my life. Sit­ting on the bed, I opened to the final chapter, which I'd pur­posely overlooked as my feelings for Lucius had grown stronger and stronger.

  Chapter 13: "Love Among Vampires: Myth or Reality?"

  Of course vampires can love. Dorin believed Lucius was ca­pable of loving me.

  Yet my heart sank as I began to read the guide's sobering advice.

  "It is best not to harbor unrealistic notions about love among vampires. Vampires are romantic, even affectionate, on occasion. But in the end, we are a ruthless race! Try to accept that vampire relationships are based upon power and, yes, passion—but not the human concept of 'love.' To begin trusting in 'love'—as many young vampires are foolishly wont to do—is to put yourself at risk of serious peril!"

  No.

  I slammed the book shut and tossed it aside, knowing that it had served its purpose. I no longer needed its advice. Because this time, the guide-—however well respected, however vener­able—was wrong. I knew the truth. Lucius loved me.

  I realized, in a moment of vivid clarity, that I was willing to stake my life on that conviction. That I would stake my life on it, that very night.

  Chapter 64

  UNABLE TO LOCATE more appropriately majestic sta­tionery in the middle of the night, I inked my abdication note on the back of a tourist pamphlet describing our ancestral home's amenities—see a real dungeon! explore three parapets!—that I found near the front door.

  I wrote,

  Dear family,

  It is futile to wage war against the Vladescus. I have decided that it is in our best interests for me to return to the United States—to step down as your princess. But my final act as your sovereign is to order every Dragomir to submit without struggle to Vladescu rule. I am bringing our clan under Lucius Vladescu's power so that we may have peace. Henceforth, you will be his subjects.

  This is my command, issued at midnight, June 9, and effec-tive at 6:30 A.M. this same day, just before my official abdication at 7:00 A.M.

  Antanasia Dragomir

  I placed the note on the long dining room table, still lit­tered with plates and goblets from my aborted feast, where I felt fairly certain Dorin would find it at breakfast. The pamphlet looked ridiculous propped against a tarnished silver candle­stick, and I hoped that at least my words sounded official.

  Then again, if anyone ever read my directive, I was dead, anyway. The fate of the clans would no longer be my problem.

  That won't happen, Jessica. . . .

  I had kept my gown on, wanting to present myself before Lucius as regal and powerful, which made it difficult to shift gears in the cramped Panda. The dress's train kept getting caught in the clutch, but I managed to maneuver out of the parking lot and onto the skinny, convoluted road that twined like a poisonous vine toward Lucius's castle.

  I was glad that I had been so acutely aware of Lucius's home—its proximity to my ancestral estate, its horrible grandeur—when I had ridden with Dorin, because I was able to retrace the route, even though the way was confusing in the pitch-black mountains. Or maybe I got lost a few times, be­cause the trip seemed to take forever. But eventually, I saw the castle's jutting spires stabbing at the full moon, and I turned up the lane, which was nearly vertical, interrupted by hairpin turns that sprang up in the darkness like jack-in-the-boxes, forcing me to hit the brakes again and again, so as not to fly off the sharp drops that appeared to my left and right at gaps in the thick forest.

  "Come on," I repeatedly encouraged the Panda, patting its steering wheel, willing its struggling engine onward, certain that it was about to give up.

  The pavement ended, dropping off into dirt, and still we climbed.

  Finally, just as I had begun to believe that the mountain could go on forever, a stone-and-iron gate loomed before me, standing at least eight feet tall. Why didn't I count on that? I stopped the car and yanked the emergency brake as hard as I could, with visions of the poor Panda disappearing down the vertical road and plunging driverless into the ravine, never to be seen again. Hiking up my dress so my train would not drag on the dirt road, I strode to the gate and ventured to tug on the heavy iron ring that served as a handle, certain that the exercise was futile.

  To my surprise, though, the gate swung back an inch or so. I tugged harder, struggling against its weight, and managed to pry it open just enough to slip inside. So much for Lucius's much-vaunted security system.

  I ventured a few steps onto Vladescu land, and the gate swung shut behind me with a loud, metallic clang like an omi­nous gong in the silent forest. I glanced behind myself, imme­diately feeling vulnerable, closed off from my car—and closed in with what? Vampires, definitely . . . and maybe scarier things? I remembered the howl of the wolf. And dogs. What if Lucius kept guard dogs on patrol?

  Should I push the gate again, try to open it, get back in the car?

  But I had a terrible feeling that I was sealed inside. Besides, I had no real intention of turning back.

  Before me, I could barely discern the footpath, even in the moonlight that filtered through thick trees. I had no choice but to go forward, though, so I squared my shoulders and began walking. With each step, I became more aware of the sounds of the forest. The snap of twigs in the distance, the rustle of leaves as some animal—Please, let it be some Romanian rodent—darted away, startled by my footsteps.

  There were bigger things out there, too. I could hear them near me, and I picked up my pace, at first just walking faster, and then breaking into a trot, which was as fast as I could manage on the uneven dirt-and-stone path. Please, please, let the castle come into sight. My breath started coming so raggedly that the other sounds were shut out, but monsters were so active in my imagination that I didn't need to hear them to know that they were there, nipping at my heels. And then I stumbled.

  But before I could fall to my knees, two pairs of hands gripped my arms and yanked me upright, hauling me roughly to my feet.

  I didn't even have time to scream out loud. As my head snapped up to see who held me, I saw before me, bathed in moonlight, Lucius. Standing a few feet ahead of me, arms crossed, blocking the path. My own arms were still tightly con­tained, and I glanced to my sides. Two young men—vampires, I presumed—pinioned me. "Let me go," I cried, trying to shake them off.

  "Eliberaţi-o!" Lucius ordered them in Romanian. "Release her!"

  My arms were freed, and I stood on my own, brushing my­self off, as though they'd soiled me with their touch.

  The young vampires waited for Lucius's instruction, crowd­ing me, clearl
y ready—eager—to recapture me.

  But they were destined to be disappointed, much to my relief.

  "Mergeţi. Lăsaţi-ne în pace," Lucius said, apparently dis­missing his guards, because they disappeared into the night.

  Hearing him speak in a tongue familiar to him but so strange to my ears—he had almost never used Romanian while at our farm—long past midnight, in a remote and gloomy forest, only emphasized how foreign to me Lucius had become, and some of my resolve wavered.

  We stood facing each other in silence, his body closing off the path to his castle, and his guards, presumably, alert for my retreat. "How long were you following me?" I finally asked him.