“Are we not using the castle interior for the same reasons your lord can’t take me right to his special door?” I try phrasing my question to sound like I’m probing for information.
“You should focus on not slipping instead of worrying about the old castle.”Old castle?“Unless youareafraid, after all?”
“Of course not.” This test isn’t something a hunter would fear.
“What are you waiting for, then?” Quinn halts his stroll, as though the narrow, icy path is nothing to him. Vampire speed, strength, balance, accuracy, all things hunters struggle to compete against without the elixirs. An elixir I no longer have in me.
“I’m thinking it would be a shame if your lord’s new—” I struggle to think of what to call myself “—assistant tumbled to her death. I want to make sure he’s all right with you taking such a risk.”
“He knows the pathways we must take,” Quinn answers enigmatically. “Besides, this should be no trouble for a hunter such as yourself. I’ve read about how you’re trained.”
“What have you read about my kind?” The vampire lord mentioned something too about having record of the hunters’ training. No doubt brought back by his minions every full moon.
“Enough.” It seems that being painfully obtuse is another vampire trait I had never been taught. “Now, hurry up.”
You can do this, Floriane, I tell myself.You must be confident and sure-footed in the forge. This is nothing. Just a drop to your death. You’ll be fine.
I suck in a breath, hold it, and step forward.
Underneath the snow is a layer of ice, thicker in some places than others. I move my feet slowly, making sure the soles of my boots have found their grip before continuing onward. I continue to study the darkened windows and archways. There’s not a single sign of life here beyond us. I’d expected the whole vampire horde to be wandering these halls. But they feel empty. Lonely, even.
A particularly violent gust of wind threatens to knock me over. I let out a yelp and fall to my knees, clutching onto ice and stone for dear life. The world beneath me blurs, becoming even more distant, shrinking away as if to swallow me. I press my eyes closed. My vision darkens and I feel faint.
“We don’t have all night, hunter.” Quinn makes a small leap from the buttress to the open window of a tower. He doesn’t even care if I die. Of course not, he’s a vampire.
The only person keeping me alive is myself.You can do this.
Keeping my center of gravity low and ignoring the biting frost, I crawl to the other end of the walkway. The window ledge seems so far away; it retreats more the longer I stare at it. I gather my legs under me and my courage at the same time. If I don’t move, I’ll be frozen to the spot forever.
Do it!the part of Drew that lives within me shouts. He always knew just how hard to push me during our midnight trainings.
I leap and stretch both arms forward.
It’s a bad jump. I land awkwardly—face first, tumbling. But all of my limbs are inside and I can’t hold back a monumental sigh of relief. Quinn’s monstrous face appears over me.
“I expected more from a hunter.”
“Maybe I’m luring you into a false sense of security?” It sounds ridiculous given my showing, even to my ears, and judging from Quinn’s smirk, it does to him as well.
“Maybe they should train you more with heights rather than letting your kind wallow in the dirt.” He starts down the stairs, leaving me to collect myself and scamper behind him, biting my tongue with a scowl.
We pass several doors, each barred with a heavy padlock. Are they designed to keep something or someone out? Or in? After a long stretch, I begin to hear a soft wailing. At first I think it’s the wind. But then realize it is far too close and far too…I dare not think human—vampire.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Nothing for you to concern yourself with.”
I can’t bring myself to ask again.
As we reach the bottom of the stairs and step into the castle’s inner sanctum, I lay eyes once more on the vampire lord. He stands at the far end of a chapel before a semicircular altar. Rings of stone radiate out from it like ripples on the floor. At varying intervals, candelabras illuminate the carvings and statues of contorting men and women, fanged mouths open in ecstasy, that climb up the pillars on either side, supporting the lofty ceiling.
Sculpted over the altar is the statue of a man with outstretched arms, holding a book. Carved and etched rings of power originate from its pages and swirl around him. He has his stony eyes turned skyward, lips slightly parted as if in prayer. On his brow is a crown made of black metal that arcs like a web of fangs away from his brow, a large ruby set in its center.
“Good, you made it,” the vampire lord murmurs, continuing to fuss with what I can only assume are magical tools on the altar. He moves a goblet several times back and forth between candles.
“No issues, Lord Ruvan,” Quinn reports. I glance at him from the corners of my eyes. Sure, I made it here. But I certainly wouldn’t say I did so without issue. Is he being nice by not sharing my embarrassment? No, this is another ploy to get me to lower my guard.
“I’m glad you’re still strong and steady on your feet.” The vampire lord brings his attention to me.
