by Tanith Frost
Daniel’s eyes widen. He can’t feel non-void energies as I do. He’s seeing it in my eyes—the golden glow, as if something within me has burst into flames. I don’t know whether it scares him. I hope it does. I catch his wrist in my hands. It’s surprisingly easy to stop him.
“Stop.”
Another female voice. One I’ve heard before.
Fear spreads outward from my heart in icy tendrils that freeze me in place.
Bethany. The only other vampire I know of who might have gifts similar to mine—who might have felt what I just revealed.
I almost wish Daniel would stab me through the heart and get it over with.
“I’ve seen enough,” Bethany says. She steps forward, unafraid of either of the fearsome monsters who she’s watched fighting to the death—or rather, to oblivion. Daniel rises and backs obediently away.
I fight the fire back down, but the void in me is weak, and it’s not an easy task. Though it may not be visible by the time Bethany stands over me, it’s too late to undo what she may have felt. She’s small, but powerful. I don’t dare move as she looks me over, her full lips pursed with interest.
Lachlan approaches and stands behind her. “You don’t need another pet.”
Bethany smiles. “But I think I do. Remember what I taught you. What do you feel?”
I tremble as he closes his eyes. This isn’t a learned skill. He can’t—
He looks down at me, a sort of hunger shining in his eyes. “It’s like others from her clan, though she’s weakened. But it’s… strange. What is it?”
Bethany tilts her head to one side. “I want to study her. You are correct—there’s strength in her that reminds me of his.” She nods at Daniel, who’s now crouched with his back against the wall. “But it is different. You know how important this is. If she might know something about Maelstrom’s void source—”
He cuts her off with a wave of his hand. “Do as you please. Willard, pick her up.”
The vampire who struck me earlier hurries forward and hauls me to my feet as Bethany and Lachlan walk together toward the door.
“Sir?” Willard asks, and Lachlan turns. “Where am I taking her? Up or down?”
Lachlan looks to me, then at Daniel, who’s still watching me, eyes shining with cold hatred. “Up,” he says, and gives me a thin smile. “This could be quite amusing.”
7
“Goddamn fucking…” I splash water on my face, then swish some around in my mouth to get rid of the taste of my own blood. I spit it out hard and grip the edge of the basin. “Daniel.”
With no explanation as to why, they’ve shut me in a room better fit for royalty than for a prisoner. Windowless walls of stone brick make the place feel like a medieval castle, and a plush rug in shades of dark blue and purple covers the floor. The main room features two comfortable chairs, as though there’s anyone I’m going to invite in for drinks. And then there’s this private bathroom I’ve shut myself in with its tempting claw-foot tub.
I’ve ignored the tub, though I’d like nothing more than a good soak in hot water to boil away my aches and anger. I don’t trust anything about this place enough to be willing to leave myself naked and exposed.
There’s no mirror over the basin, but there is one standing in the corner. Full-length, framed in a pattern of gold leaves. The image reflected back at me as I stalk toward it is enough to make me cringe. My hair came loose from its ponytail somewhere in all those fights and now hangs over my shoulders in filthy blond clumps. My t-shirt is stretched out at the front where Daniel grabbed me, and I’m covered in graveyard dirt.
I lean in closer and touch my jaw. Weak blood and no circulation means we bruise pale and only from serious injury. I’ve got a hell of a shadow spreading up over my cheek, though, and that’s the least of my issues. The swelling in my eye is going down, but it still looks horrible and hurts like a bitch. The split in my lower lip isn’t deep, but I’m going to have to be careful not to reopen it as it heals.
I’m trying to remember lessons the Agonites taught me about pain—let it in, accept it, move through it instead of denying it. I’m honestly not sure it’s helping. At the moment, pain seems like something I should box up and set aside to be examined when I’m less distracted.
I lift the hem of my shirt, then quickly drop it again. The skin of my torso is marbled with faint bruises, overlaid with scratches and a few deep cuts I don’t remember getting.
I can’t blame Daniel for those, but that doesn’t keep him from being the focus of my anger. At least the first bunch of vampires who beat the shit out of me had the decency to be enemies. I can understand them tearing into me. But not him.
There has to be an explanation. When we were in that room with those spectators, I was sure of what I felt: Daniel hated me. He wanted to drive that stake through my heart and watch me crumble to dust. But it doesn’t make sense. After everything we’ve been through, after all I felt for him and what I’m sure he felt for me…
I must be wrong. He’s doing what he’s always done, offering those in power what they want to see. He’s just a better liar than I ever knew. And as to the intentions I felt in him—
Someone knocks at the door to the outer room.
I hesitate. No one told me what to expect next. Willard dragged me up here and slammed the door in my face, telling me only that I’m not permitted to leave without an escort. Even if I knew who was knocking, it wouldn’t matter. There’s no one here I want to see right now.
I step back into the bedroom—such as it is. There’s no bed. Just those chairs, an empty wardrobe, a dressing table with another mirror, and the strangest coffin I’ve ever seen, standing open in the middle of the room. No plain pine boxes for these vampires. This one is made from wood, but it’s been stained in a dozen shades of greens, deep pinks, and shadowy blues to bring out the thorny thicket of rose bushes that have been carved into its sides and top. It looks like a garden that might have grown up around an enchanted castle—protective, but dangerous.
Another knock. Harder this time.
“Hang on,” I call out, loudly enough to be heard through the heavy wooden door. Whoever it is can wait.
I grab the brush from the dressing table and drag it through my hair, wincing as snarls and tangles loosen. There’s not much else to work with here if I want to make myself presentable. Nothing I could easily use as a weapon, certainly. But there is a gold filigree hair clip shaped like a moth.
I want to hide behind a curtain of hair, but it feels wrong. If I’m going to face my captors, I’m going to do it as bravely and confidently as I can. Let them look at what they’ve done to me.
Let them see how unbroken I am.
The clip slides easily into my hair in spite of the blood and dirt still caked on the strands. A single spot of beauty in the fucking mess they’ve made of me.
I hope it’s not Bethany knocking. I won’t feel confident facing her until I’ve fed and the void is strong enough in me that I can cover my fire better—and maybe convince her she was wrong about what she felt.
… Which means that if my luck keeps going the way it has been, it’s definitely going to be her.
The door opens with an iron latch on a heavy handle. No lock on the inside. Guess it was decent of whoever’s out there to not come barging in.
I’m staring straight ahead as I open it, expecting to meet Bethany’s dark eyes squarely. Instead, I find myself face-to-chest with someone far more familiar.
I take a step back so I don’t have to hurt my neck looking straight up. “Daniel.” Ice drips from my voice. Good. Hot anger would be appropriate, but I don’t want him to know I care that much. Not until I understand what’s going on.
“Aviva.” There’s no emotion in his voice. No hatred now. Very little interest of any kind. He’s wearing his mask—hard, neutral, giving nothing away. He used to take it off for me and let me see what lay beneath.
There’s no sign that anything has changed since my interrogation e
ven though there’s no one else here to see. I want to believe—have to believe—that there’s something here I’m missing, but now that he’s standing here, my confidence is shaken.
I feel as though I’ve been stabbed through the heart, but oblivion isn’t coming to end the sharp, twisting pain.
He hands me a black overnight bag. Not mine. “Here. You’re to change your clothes so I can show you your new home.” He doesn’t sound pleased about the prospect.
“Come in, then.”
I carry the bag to the bathroom, leaving him to decide whether he wants to hang out in the hallway or not. As soon as the door is shut behind me, I crouch with my back against it, one hand pressed to my mouth to hold back the sobs that want to escape.
They’ve done something to him. Brainwashed him. He wouldn’t choose to treat me this way.
Hannabelle’s words come back to mind. There may not be any way to bring back the same vampire who left the island. What of your mission, then?
I wipe the heel of one hand across my eyes, though I’m too dehydrated to have many tears to offer. I can’t give up this quickly. Not when he’s refused so many times to give up on me.
I just wish he’d give me something to hang my hope on.
The clothes in the bag aren’t mine. Either the Tempest gang didn’t find my things or didn’t think they were worth salvaging. They’ve given me a blue dress with long sleeves and a top fitted enough that I don’t need to wear anything else under it. The skirt is longer than I like. Heavy. Flattering, though.
That’s all that’s in the bag. I guess I’m going barefoot. Willard confiscated my boots.
Bastard.
Daniel gives me a cursory glance as I step out of the bathroom. The scratches on his cheek are already fading—just one more sign of how strong he is. As if I needed another. “Are you ready?”
I glance around. He’s closed the door. We’re alone. I hurry closer and place a hand on his arm. “What’s going on?” I whisper. “Why are you acting like this?”
He pulls away from me and takes a step back. “We should get this over with.”
I glare up at him, daring him to crack and offer me something now that we can talk. Anything. He turns away and leaves without waiting to see whether I’m coming.
“You won’t have unrestricted access to the premises,” he says as I follow him out of the room.
We’re heading in the direction opposite the one Willard brought me from, but the corridor this way is more of the same—stone walls, warm electric lights burning dimly on iron fixtures, tapestries that look medieval in materials and construction but show a dizzying array of abstract patterns and modern-style representations of plants, animals, and scenery. I catch what looks like a bunch of floating skulls from the corner of my eye, but when I turn to look more closely, it’s just a cluster of hot-air balloons floating around the Eiffel tower.
Daniel’s long strides leave me behind, and I hurry to catch up.
“You’ll want to come this way if you’re instructed to go to the dining room, the ballroom… almost anywhere they’ll want you,” he continues without looking back. “The other direction only leads to the servants’ passages.”
My supernatural perceptions are weak, thanks to my hunger, but my body is prickling with the sensory information that’s overwhelming it in these unfamiliar surroundings—the smooth wooden floorboards under my feet, the slight chill and hint of dampness in the air, voices rising from somewhere ahead. A scream behind a closed door sets me on edge, but it dissolves into hearty laughter.
I’m about to ask Daniel what’s been happening to him since his arrival here when the corridor ends at the top of a curved double staircase leading down to an open room.
Daniel stops. I step cautiously toward the banister between the staircases and rest my hands on it, letting my arms hold me up.
My knees have gone weak.
“Holy shit,” I whisper. To myself, not to Daniel, but he approaches anyway and stands beside me. It takes me a few more seconds to find the word I want, given how different it is from what I expected to find here. “It’s gorgeous.”
The floor below is wood again, the same wide panels in varying shades of brown and grey as on the level above. It gleams softly in the light of a chandelier that fills the ceiling overhead—dazzling crystals, but strangely at home next to the more rustic flooring. The walls on either side are the same as in the rooms above, but the one we’re facing is a flat slab of raw stone. Water trickles over it in a gentle cascade that drains into a turquoise pool below, surrounded by more of the same stone carved into shapes too detailed to make out at this distance. Plants, I think, like on the coffin in my room. I feel a childish impulse to slide down the curved railing and scamper over to take a closer look.
Vampires pass by below us, crossing between corridors that branch off this central space. Some move alone, others in pairs. Most are dressed up—suits with long tails, dresses with full skirts that make mine look like a scullery maid’s rags. They seem to be going about their business, but I catch their eyes darting about, their heads tilting slightly toward us. Watching. Listening.
Spying.
The stairs are wide and low enough that our descent feels like gliding. A vampire with a peacock feather in her upswept black hair gives me a strange look as she passes on her way up. No one has ordered me not to make eye contact, but I keep my gaze locked straight ahead.
“Dining room,” Daniel says, and turns down one of the side corridors. I glance in as we pass, and my steps slow. I was going to ask why creatures like us would need such a room, but there’s no need. The few vampires in the room are accompanied by humans, all of them dressed in finery similar to what the vampires are wearing. There’s food on the table—roasted chicken and root vegetables, bread, cheese, wine. When I inhale, it’s enough to make me miss eating. The food’s not as tempting as the humans, though, all of whom look healthy and full of life.
And more surprisingly, happy. One lifts a glass of blood-red wine to toast the vampire beside her, a dark-haired fellow with a large nose and a neatly trimmed beard. He raises a glass in return, but sets it down without drinking.
I frown as I watch them. This is wrong. Tempest’s vampires are cruel. Cold. I saw for myself how they view humans. The living are worse than livestock to them. They’re possessions, to be given as gifts to others who will chain them and torture them, all for the taste of fear.
The vampire turns. I don’t recognize him, but a slow smile pulls at his lips as he tips his top hat to me. The human glances over, and her eyes widen.
I must be quite the sight.
Daniel clears his throat. He’s pulled ahead of me again and is waiting farther down the hallway.
“No windows,” I note. “Are we underground?”
“Safest place for vampires, and the effects of daylight are less troublesome even on clear days.” He resumes his former pace.
“So it’s like—” I begin, intending to mention Maelstrom’s more austere and less welcoming tunnels, but he shoots a sharp glance.
“There’s a billiards room over here.” He’s speaking louder now, covering the murmured end of my sentence. “I doubt you’ll be invited. I’ll show you to Bethany’s workroom now.” We double back through the room with the waterfall and cross to another hallway. The doors off this one are all closed, and we seem to be alone. “You’re lucky she took an interest in you.”
My shoulders tense. “Because it kept you from murdering me?”
“Yes.” Not a hint of remorse in his voice, the fucker. I relish the flash of irritation that warms me. Better to be angry than sorrowful if he really does hate me now. Daniel glances down at me. “But also because it brought you into the highest level of vampire society here in Tempest.”
“What do you mean?”
Daniel gestures at our opulent surroundings. “Welcome to the upper crust. Not all of Tempest’s vampires exist in surroundings like this—no more than all humans do. The divisions
are clearer here than what you’re used to. You met some of the lower vampires earlier, I think. In a graveyard?”
I shoot him a sharp look. “They told you?”
“No. But I listen, and you’d do well to do the same. The vampires you’ll meet here have incredible natural power and control everything within the clan. They feed well and often, as do their guests. Keep them happy and interested in you.” He stops and turns to me. “Members of Tempest face demotion to lower ranks if they displease Lachlan, but you won’t get that far. You’ll keep him happy, or you’ll face execution. And it won’t be quick or pleasant.”
I look him over again now that he’s stopped. Not dressed as well as the rest, but clean, comfortable. “Is that what you are now? One of them?”
He won’t look at me. “You heard Lachlan. I’m Bethany’s pet, and not one he’s particularly fond of. I’m doing what I must to survive.”
I step closer so I can whisper. “We have to get out of here. Have you heard anything about their plans? Bethany said they were only holding off on an invasion because—”
He walks away. “Kitchen’s that way. They might ask you to work in there with the human servants. Bethany’s workroom is just down there.”
He’s walking faster now, forcing me to trot to keep up. “Daniel, wait. Why are you acting like this?”
The look he shoots me is pure ice, but I’m not afraid of him now. He’d have put a stake through my heart if they’d asked, but now that Bethany wants me kept safe, he wouldn’t dare harm me. It still hurts, though.
Daniel rounds a corner and opens a nearly invisible door set into the wood-panelled wall and steps through. I hesitate, and he grabs my wrist to pull me in.
I yank my arm away as soon as I can, and he lets go willingly. We’re standing in a narrower, more brightly lit hallway with stone walls and floor, like the one Willard used when he hauled me up to my room. Daniel glances in both directions, then turns to me. “They’re listening. Always. Everywhere. These passageways are for human servants, though. There’s a chance of meeting a vampire in here, but far less than anywhere else.”