“Yes,” she says. “But he might run away if he knows we’re on to him.” Elia pauses, staring at me intently. “And we need him there. Whether you get him to talk or not, he’s the only target for the ritual, Rebecca.”
Elia gets up, dusting down her trousers. It’s my first time seeing her in something other than a skirt or dress. She pushes one of the large doors open, revealing the interior of the palace, decorated much like the outside, with dried wreaths and pumpkins. The portraits of Ada Astra have all been removed and replaced by far more macabre paintings. A ghoulish old man devouring a child, face covered in blood. Ghostly figures marching across a hill. “I have contacts in the Prado,” Elia says. “Can you even call it a Halloween party if you don’t have Goya’sPinturas negrason display?”
“I can’t say I’m familiar with them,” I say. I don’t know where the Prado is, either. But all the same, I’m transfixed by the canvases, a dozen candles reflecting off the glass keeping them safe. “Bycontacts,do you mean you compelled someone who works there?”
“I don’t kiss and tell,” she replies. I sigh and focus on an enormous canvas, four metres long. The thick brushstrokes make up acongregation of old women, their macabre expressions sending shivers down my spine. There’s a large goat presiding over their meeting. The title, embossed into the frame, readsEl Aquelarre.
“What does that mean?” I ask, pointing at the words.
“The coven,” Elia says, lowering her voice.
The surrounding sculptures have also been replaced. Instead of nymphs or busts of old vampires, there are creatures with grotesque expressions carved in marble, with great horns or bat wings, and all of them holding little basins which on the night of the party, I assume will be filled with blood.
“What if we’re wrong about Gustavsson?” Even as I ask this, I know we’re not. “What if he’s innocent?”
We bypass the grand staircase, which she’s cut off with red rope, and walk straight into the crystal ballroom. She’s adorned the crystal walls with twisted branches and fairy lights. She turns to look at me, her voice cooling before she says: “You’ve probably killed more than a few innocent vampires already, haven’t you?”
“I only kill monsters,” I say. There’s a stage in the corner of the ballroom, and I stop to look up at it. My neck aches and itches as the mark tells me to return to my master. I ignore the pain. “I’ve never killed anyone who hasn’t tried to kill me first.”
“I suppose I’d be a hypocrite to hold your past against you,” she says, taking my hand. Her soft grip is strangely comforting. “In my worst moments of thirst, I’ve taken lives that probably didn’t deserve to be taken. Especially during my first year as a vampire.”
I shiver at that, my prejudices bubblingup.
“I don’t think Aliz will do theritualwith me,” I say. I don’t know what else to call Ada’s cure. “She’s not like us.”
“I’ll try to talk some sense into her,” Elia says. She lets go of my hand and offers me a sad smile. As though she already knows it’s a lost cause.
Chapter
Thirty-Four
I don’t get back to the room until after midnight. Aliz is sitting at her desk, going through some of the books we borrowed from the Palau Collection during the early days of the mark, back when neither of us knew Palau was, in fact, Elia. She seems surprised to see that I’ve returned, and in a way, I am, too. I didn’t wait to see how she reacted to her compellingme.
My neck itches, and I try my best to ignore it. Our argument, unfinished, hangs in the air betweenus.
My friends areat their usual table in the far corner of Ambrose Hall, playing cards. Stephan is drinking beer; the vampires, blood. I wait for them to bombard me with questions about my new life as a Familiar. But no such questions come.
I glance at Julia, her face serious as always as she picks up a card from the pile spread across the table. They’re playing Go Fish, and as soon as I join, Ife steals my two queens. Julia hasn’t told any of themabout the Familiar’s mark. She doesn’t even look at my neck while we sit. I want to squeeze her arm and thank her, but I shouldn’t.
“So, what are you all wearing to the ball?” I ask.
“Oh, it’s a surprise,” Ife says, picking a card.
“I wanted to go as a zombie cheerleader,” Julia says, the choice slightly out of character. “But apparently that’s notformalenough for Elia.”
“And you, Cassie?” Stephan asks.
“Also a surprise,” I say. I’ve not thought about it yet. My cards are absolutely crap, entirely mismatched. But then I ask Ife for her nines, and after gritting her teeth, she tosses three my way. I smile back at her, placing my first set upon the table. We play another three rounds before I hear them behindus.
Elia’s arrival is heralded by the clicking of her stilettos upon the tiled floor. Then, a familiar pair of hands rests on my shoulders. My muscles loosen, the burning itch in my neck fades. I look up, and Aliz stares straight back down at me. Despite our proximity, she still feels miles away. Her gaze shifts across the table, and confusion creases her brows. I don’t understand the expression until I see Julia, and the ice that she doesn’t even try to conceal from her gaze.
“Invitations,” Elia says, handing out little red envelopes while I feel tension growing between Aliz and Julia. But luckily enough, neither of them says anything.
Our bedroom windowis open, the night free of clouds. I catch a glimpse of the waxing moon. The ball is on Tuesday, and I feel more helpless now than I did when I first found the mark. I hear the door unlocking and quickly slip behind my bed’s curtains. Aliz doesn’t say a word when she steps inside.
You’re always lying.
I know she suspects me. I’m not entirely sure what she suspects, but she hasn’t looked at me the same since our fight. The pain in my chest is greater than the mark’s sting. I don’t want to be her Familiar,but I don’t want to ruin her, either. She doesn’t deserve this. Tugging at my bed’s curtains, I look across the room. The black divider is pulled across, blocking her from view.
