“You shouldn’t have told her that. It wasn’t fair of you to do that.” Anastaise shook her head.
Her disappointment burned through me. I went to place my hand on my chest but stopped.
Anastaise held her hands to her face. “You think she has no right to be angry, that she should just trust what we say to her, but why would she? How could she? We keep her here for him, and we know what he will put her through when he returns.”
The hole where my heart once belonged shuddered again.
“Darke, we are the monsters she believes us to be. When will we admit that to ourselves?” She sighed heavily and headed for the door.
I stopped her. “Do you truly believe that, Sophie?” I stared at her, amazed at how little she thought of herself. Such a beautiful innocent creature she was in front of me. “Do you truly believe that you are a monster?”
She glanced away from me for a moment and then peered into my eyes, as if debating how to answer me.
How could she feel that way? I had worked so hard to protect her from the dark deeds that she would’ve had to commit for Master, yet she still felt as tarnished as I was.
I looked down at her hands, smooth, pale, and clean, and then to mine—dark and calloused, they announced all my sins and the innocent lives I had taken. The ties I once had with the Council were long gone, and though I believed that they were corrupt, I still believed in their ability to protect Ella from the fate she’d been promised too long ago. I only wondered if they’d gotten my clue. Would my brother follow it and save her? Such a small slip might have gone unnoticed.
It wasn’t that I was trying to redeem myself. I had given up on that hope long ago, but if the myths were true about this Arc, her life was worth more than my own. I just hoped that they would save Anastaise, as well.
“Am I not?” She continued toward the door.
I followed close behind her, searching for something to tell her to soothe her worries, but the truth was that if Anastaise and I didn’t stay with Laurent and the blood of the Master, then we would become the monsters that she spoke of—well, she would become that monster. I had become one long ago.
“You are not a monster,” I repeated, with even more conviction than before.
“Give it time,” she said ominously as she headed out the door. I looked at her inquisitively. She often said things to me that gave me pause. Any Chorý without the blood of his master would turn into a true vampire—a rogue, as most would call them. Some could resist la Luxure for centuries, while others fell within decades. Our blood master was the rogue that resided, imprisoned, in Leif’s care. Laurent used his tainted blood to create an army of Chorý and controlled us easily, because no one wanted to become a true vampire. We’d all seen the monster’s lust for blood that at times was so strong that he would attempt to drain himself.
His lust for blood had been his downfall. Laurent had captured him in broad daylight, chasing a woman down the dirtied cobblestone streets of England.
“Do you mean la Luxure?” I asked as Ana headed over to the stone wall that was cloaked in her favorite yellow flowers.
Anastaise turned to me and smiled; soft and sweet, her lips inched up revealing her beautiful but deadly fangs. She plucked two flowers from the bush without even facing it and then came to stand next to me. She reached out and took my hand gently, placing the butter-colored bud in my palm, my honey colored skin a warm contrast to her pale alabaster.
Why the flower? I looked at it and then at her, my brow furrowed.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked, not once taking her eyes off of mine.
“Exquisite,” I said, but not about the flower. Showing interest in Ana would put us both in danger, if Laurent learned of it.
Anastaise’s eyes sparkled in the moonlight, and her silky hair ruffled and swayed with the chilling winter breeze. She looked away, no doubt understanding what my comment had meant, and I chuckled. Though she was trapped in the body of an eighteen-year-old, she was more than a hundred and fifty.
She removed her hands from mine and placed them at her side. “Do you know why I love this plant, Raúl?”
Her use of my given name sent a jolt throughout my system. I glanced away from her and into my hand again. The yellow bud still lay there. I was not that man anymore.
“Look at me,” she demanded softly, and I complied. “I love this plant, because even in winter it blooms, taking away some of the cold gloom of winter.” Anastaise closed my hand and tightened hers around mine. “Its bloom is so small that from far away they all look like a yellow cloud.” She giggled and continued to close my hand, using her Chorý strength to crush my fingers together.
The pain was intense but manageable, and all I could do was stare at her in surprise, even as I heard my bones crunch. She’d never shown her strength before. I didn’t know why she’d hidden it, or why she was using it now. But I was much older and stronger than she, so it was easy to avoid crushing the delicate bloom in my hand.
“Sometimes I wonder if our kind is meant to live, you know.”
What did she mean? I stared at her, waiting for an explanation.
She opened my broken hand and stared at the bloom. It was untouched, delicate and whole in the middle of my palm. My bones started to pop back into place and mend as I gazed at the flower.
“You protected it, Raúl. You didn’t let harm come to it,” she said quietly.
I still didn’t speak. I simply gazed into her sad eyes.
“But it will still die,” she whispered. “It didn’t stand a chance from the moment I plucked it from its home and placed it into your hand. You cannot stop its death.” A lone tear slid down her pale face.
“Don’t—don’t lose faith in me, Sophie,” I begged. I threw the little yellow flower to the ground and squeezed her hands to reinforce my words. Sophie smiled and returned a light squeeze of her own, nothing compared to her crushing grasp earlier. My hand hadn’t yet completely healed, and I still felt the light tinges of pain.
Sophie glanced at my hands and then pulled them to her lips and placed a light kiss on each knuckle. “Sorry.” She let go and moved back to the shrubs of winter jasmine. “I’ve not lost faith in you; I have lost my desire to—”
“Don’t! I won’t hear it.” I growled in anguish.
She turned to me, expression somber. She wasn’t going to give up now. Not when I had risked so much for her. Not when I had fallen on love with her. She didn’t know my plan—at least, I didn’t think she did. She was such a smart girl, sometimes—too smart for her own good.
“I will fix this; I will make your life better!”
I felt his presence almost like a dark cloud over me.
“And how, pray tell, will you do that?” Laurent asked coolly.
I turned around slowly and smiled as he sauntered closer to us. The pleasant thought of the Council taking Laurent out had been an instant reel in my head, of late. If the Council had followed the clues I’d left behind, they would soon be here, making Laurent too busy protecting his precious Arc to stop me from sending Ana away. If he lost his Arc, he wouldn’t waste time or resources looking for Ana and if the Council failed, I prayed that he would be content to punish me and leave Ana be.
“While you are both out here, my Arc is sitting all alone in her room—or roaming my estate, looking for a way out.” His voice turned into a slight growl as he finished his sentence.
“Sir.” I bowed my head. “I will find her immediately,” I promised.
Laurent frowned and shook his head. “No need.” His voice held no trace of anger, but the fire in his grey eyes betrayed him. “I know where she is. I will get her myself.”
He looked past me to Anastaise and frowned. “My little dove, is your life here so bad?” I felt Anastaise tremble behind me. “If you need a break from your duties, all you need do is ask.” He held out his hand, summoning her. She maneuvered around me and stood in front of Laurent, placing her hand in his. He lead her into the estate an
d out of my sight.
I would save her from that deplorable man if it was the last thing I did.
Chapter 13
Ella
As soon as I heard Ana and Darke walk away, I slowly moved my ear away from the door and rushed into action. A slight jab of guilt pierced my spine, and I paused. What would happen to Ana and Darke when Laurent returned, and I was gone?
I was angry with myself for caring about the two of them, but the recent conversation with Darke made me wonder. Could Darke and Ana be in the same situation that I was in? There against their will. My heart raced at the thought of Ana being snatched from her home and family. I understood how she felt, if that were the case. The night that Laurent had taken me, I had resigned myself to giving up my freedom to protect my friends and family, but who was I putting at risk by being Laurent’s pawn?
I shook my head, pushing away the guilt—and the urge to consider Darke’s words about my parents as something other than lies—and grabbed the pants that I’d arrived in from the dresser. I swiftly and efficiently yanked them over my legs, hiking up the dress in the process. I didn’t want to waste any time with the shirt, so I tucked the dress in the waist of my pants and searched for my shoes.
Ana had set them by the door. I rushed over to them. I didn’t want to go outside in the snow barefoot.
I shoved my feet in them, then grabbed the wool throw off of the bed and headed to the door. I placed my ear to the door and listened for any movement. My pulse was racing, and all I could hear was my heartbeat echoed in my head. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, hoping to calm my nerves. I needed my head clear and my heart to slow down; I was getting dizzy, and I couldn’t afford the distraction. I couldn’t afford a mistake, and I needed to be calm enough to not panic.
I turned the knob, thankful that Darke and Ana never locked the door. Maybe they weren’t worried about me leaving the room because I wouldn’t get far.
I couldn’t worry about that now. I pulled the large wooden door open. It creaked; I winced. I had never heard the stupid door creak before, but of course it would, now that I needed it to be quiet.
The brightly lit hall was lined with oil paintings of what looked to be generals and royalty. I stumbled as I walked out of the door. I needed to stop and take a breath and calm my nerves, but I didn’t have time.
I went down the hall in the opposite direction from where Ana had always taken me—away from the two locked doors, the dining room and kitchen, and the courtyard with a stone gate taller than Darke that I wouldn’t have been able to climb on my best day. The carpet was thick and quiet under my feet, and the faint scent of ash caught my attention. I passed a sitting room that was lavishly decorated and a library with bookshelves at least nine feet tall full of old and new books.
I nearly tripped on the plush carpet; I’d been walking around barefoot for the past two days, and oddly enough, it felt like I hadn’t worn shoes in a few years. My entire body felt wrong, and with each step, I increasingly wondered if I was doing the right thing or not. An odd feeling slithered up my spine and snaked its way around my throat, taking the air I needed to breathe. I placed my hand on the wall and used the rough wallpaper to guide me further down the hall.
The closer I got to the ahead corner, the stronger the inexplicable urge to sit down became. I pushed harder on the wall to steady myself. I was stronger than this.
Ana and Darke probably wouldn’t stay outside long. I walked faster.
She’d wanted to check in on me after my conversation with Darke, and Darke hadn’t allowed her to do so, which I was grateful for. Darke’s words had really struck a chord, and I didn’t think seeing Ana after I’d said those things to her was a good idea. The urge to apologize was great, and though I knew that I couldn’t stay here to keep Laurent from taking his anger out on her, I hoped that Darke would help her.
I allowed the anger from Darke’s earlier lies about my parent’s death to surface, pushing me forward, toward the large ornate doors that I hoped were the exit. Jace and the Council had some serious explaining to do—not that I completely believed Darke, but he was just too strong and sure to ignore.
I reached the doors and held my breath as I turned the knob, hoping that the doors were left open. When the knob didn’t budge, I bit back a sob and leaned my head against the door.
The door was warm. Did it even lead outside? If it did, wouldn’t it be cooler than the walls around it? Or was I just crazy?
I hadn’t given up hope yet, but my spirits started to sink as I yanked on the door knob. I was going to have to find another way out.
I looked back down the hall. Usually homes had foyers for the front door, but…
I wasn’t in the front of the house. I tread back down the hall in what I believed was the correct direction, keeping an eye out for Ana and Darke.
I headed left, through a wide-open door into a sitting room where all of the furniture was covered by white sheets. How I had missed this room before?
The room was dark and cold; the fireplace was clean and looked unused. Dust layered the white sheets and few items that weren’t covered, and it floated around me even though I was careful not to touch anything. I didn’t want a trail leading Darke to me.
The sound of hushed unfamiliar voices. I hid behind a large oak grandfather clock.
Heavy footsteps thundered from the hall I’d left and passed me into the hall where I was headed. I pressed up against the wall and held my breath.
A gust of cold air slapped me in the face. I was so close to leaving!
I opened my eyes—when did I close them?—and saw that the lights were on, and a man faced away from me, sitting at the now-uncovered piano. Did he see me? He was facing away, so maybe not.
As soon as I lifted my foot to move, he started to play the piano, slowly and softly. I froze and wondered if the music coming from the piano would mute the sounds of my escape.
The melody gradually picked up in pace. Was he playing with me? I placed my foot down and then lifted the other, pivoting for the hall—
The music stopped. I slowly looked up to see a sharp grey gaze plastered to my face.
“Now, were you going to leave without even saying goodbye?” The stranger’s thick French accent was more pronounced than Kale’s. Waves of sandy blond hair barely touched the collar of his white dress shirt. His cool grey stare pinned me in place.
He smiled so creepily, it stopped my breath.
I backed away until my back hit the wall in a muted thud. The stranger scrutinized me in a way that unnerved me. I glanced at his hands placed on the back of his chair while he absently tapped his foot. I couldn’t take my eyes off of his regal features—from his long nose and blade-sharp cheekbones to his confident smile and long slender neck.
He couldn’t be Laurent. He couldn’t have been more than twenty.
The man continued to stare at me as I took in his features. He raised a brow, pointed to the dusty chair to the right of him, and then turned around and continued to play the piano.
I looked over at the chair that was covered with the dusty white material. I could either sit down—just in case this was Laurent—or I could just ask him who he was.
Fear that I’d been caught kept my tongue in my mouth and forced my feet over to the chair where the man had pointed. He closed his eyes as he played hauntingly soft music, his hands gracefully touching each key. The only thing that pulled me from the silly daydream of the music was bewilderment. Darke stood in the doorway, his body was stiff, and anger contorted his face.
I hoped that I wouldn’t be left alone with him again. I held my arm, remembering Darke’s painful grip.
“Don’t worry about him.” The man’s voice pulled my attention back to him. “He isn’t as tough as he looks,” he added with a wry smile. He finished the song he was playing and then closed the piano, turning his attention back to me.
I took a breath, ready to ask a question.
“It’s late, and I heard that you had
a long day today. I am assuming that is why your face is stained with tears,” he interrupted, casting an annoyed glance at Darke.
I touched my cheeks to feel them sticky.
“You should go to bed,” he added with finality, and he started to stand.
“Wait,” I said.
His gaze drifted to mine, and he slowly sat back down.
Darke shook his head at me in warning. I placed my shaky sweaty palms on my lap and began fidgeting with my jeans. The man’s gaze followed my hands and frowned at my waist, where my dress was scrunched up and tucked into my jeans.
“Who are you?” I asked before he had a chance to comment on my clothes.
The man just stared at me, as if he couldn’t understand why I had asked the question. I couldn’t believe that young man was Laurent, the man that everyone was afraid of—but Darke stood in the corner like an obedient dog, and I hadn’t seen Ana since the man started speaking, so it had to be him. Who else would place fear in Darke? Who else could command Darke’s obedience?
Laurent smiled. “Sleep, Ella. We will have plenty of time to get acquainted with each other.” He stood.
Laurent headed for the door that I had earlier planned to escape through and motioned for Darke to take me to the room. They spoke for a moment in a language that I didn’t recognize that ended in a stiff nod from Darke.
Laurent turned and regarded me, gaze cold, emotionless. “Also, unless you can swim a few hundred kilometers between several uninhabited islands, I suggest you don’t pull this little stunt again, am I understood?” No trace of anger colored his cool tone.
As I nodded and followed Darke back to the room where I was to be kept, I hoped that my “little stunt,” as he called it, wouldn’t get Ana in trouble.
***
I lay in the bed under the heavy covers, watching the fire as it cast dancing shadows across the room. The flickering orange light and the popping logs weren’t what kept me awake.
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