I punched the wall, attempting to rein in the anger I felt racing through my veins at the indignation of it all. I was being run from my home by an army of worthless hogs who weren’t fit to wallow in their own shit. I hit the wall again, and again, and again, welcoming the pain that focused my rage. After a minute, I felt better. I stared down at my bloodied knuckles as the skin knit itself back together, as if the tantrum had never happened at all.
I dropped my robe and lifted my head to the moon as my body shifted. I willed my bones to pop and shorten, bend and reform. My skin shrank and stretched, hair sprouting over my face while my nose dwindled to make way for flared nostrils. My maker had taught me the art of shape-changing for half a century before I’d mastered the three sacred forms: The wolf, the mist, and the bat. Tonight, it was the latter that would carry me away from this castle I’d called home for the past two centuries.
Mist was a time-consuming shift, hard to control during high winds, and dangerous on a night such as this when I would need my wits about me. It was easy to become lost as one’s mind faded. The wolf would be of no use with my enemy on the ground. No, it was the bat that I turned to in this hour of need.
The transformation complete, I flapped my wings and lifted into the air, allowing a gust of wind to carry me aloft. I circled the castle, vying for a good look at the intruders who fancied themselves my executioners. If I could recognize but one, I might be able to put an end to their reign of terror so that no such raids occurred again. But as I drew nearer to the mob, the fires from their torches shone on masked features made to look like bears and wolves and lions, as if they were the predators here, and not the sheep who would be slaughtered. I did, however, discern a symbol etched across their armor like a badge, as if proclaiming themselves an army: a red moth.
I watched silently as the humans gracelessly plodded over the bridge, realizing with rising anger that the doors had been thrown open to welcome them. Betrayed by one of my own, it would seem. And in the doorway, who did I spy, but that nitwit Nadia. I would hunt the ungrateful imposter down. I would relish breaking every single bone in her body before I tore out her kidney and forced her to eat it while she yet lived.
“There!” a cry sounded at the same time that I felt a wooden bolt slip through the thin membrane of skin making up my left wing.
I cried out, the sound emitting as a squeak of surprise, and then the wind forsook me. I plunged past the bridge and into the icy waters that raged along the base of the castle.
I gasped at the shock of cold—the accompanying nausea from the running water enough to shake my concentration on my bat form. My bones shifted and my body stretched relentlessly as I struggled to stay afloat. The raging water continued to sap my strength as it swept me far from my beloved castle and deeper into the mountains. I could see the sky lightening to the east. If I was to survive this night, I would need to find shelter, and soon.
My mind roared. The people responsible for my current predicament had been in my grasp. I should have been paying more attention. If I’d disregarded this strange boy’s plight, I could have dragged the men off and forced their secrets from them. Vrykolakas would have been beyond proud of my prompt showing, and I would have only the trivial task of Ambrose’s hand ahead of me. But, no. I’d decided to benoble.
It was laughable that just a moment ago I had been thinking of myself more as a human than a vampire. I’d been human for little over a day, but I wasn’toneof them. Being surrounded by them, having their blood run through my veins … it was making me soft. It was making me like them. I would have to purge such weakness.
I frowned. But why had they targeted a young lord? Matthew certainly wasn’t a vampire. They had to have multiple agendas then. I just didn’t understand how Matthew fit into them.
“Why were they after you?” I questioned him again.
Matthew’s mouth opened and closed for a moment before he sighed. He was saved from answering by a sharp rap on the door, followed by Stuart entering the room, balancing a water basin in his arms. He stilled when he noticed Matthew in the room with me, eyes going wide momentarily before he moved to set up the basin, as well as the towels he’d thrown over his shoulder.
“That will be all, Stuart,” I told him.
Stuart hesitated before addressing Matthew. “My lord, your father has been … anxious as to your whereabouts.”
Matthew straightened. “Melbourne will set his mind to rest. And I’ll be along shortly. Thank you, Stuart.”
Stuart licked his lips, eyes dancing between me and Matthew for a moment. “Is there anything … the matter?”
“Nothing you need concern yourself with,” I snapped.
Stuart lowered his eyes and bowed before leaving the room, closing the door firmly behind him.
“Don’t worry,” Matthew said. “Stuart is trustworthy. He will keep this quiet.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And what of Melbourne and Cecelia? This has gotten out of hand. I wish you’d let me linger in the garden. I would have liked to question that man.”
“That would have been the smart thing to do,” Matthew agreed with a sigh. “He might have had information about Emmett.”
“Emmett?” I frowned, confused.
Matthew turned to me, meeting my eyes as if bracing to deliver bad news. “I must apologize for the subterfuge, Lucian. I’m not who I led you to believe.”
My eyes narrowed as I waited for him to continue.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “My name isn’t Matthew. It’s Maxwell. Maxwell Harclay. I’m the duke’s youngest son.”
I stared him for a moment, incredulous, then laughed. “Of course you are. I should have seen it. You have your mother’s eyes, and her hair.”
Maxwell smiled sheepishly. “I truly am sorry. I would have said something sooner, but I never have the opportunity to speak to someone so candidly.” He paused. “You’re not upset then?”
I shrugged. “It’s rather amusing.” And I couldn’t quite fault him when I myself wasn’t who I said I was. “Besides, you owe me now.”
“Oh?”
