“Alaric, did you hurt Patrick?”
I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that. His face collapses. I wish I could take the words back.
“I know that you must ask this question,” he says, not looking at me. “I am, after all, the monster.”
“No, I didn’t mean … it’s just that Patrick and Danny hurt me, and now they’re both dead. I can’t help but think that I’m at the centre of this and …”
“… and I am your monster.”
I am your monster.
His words are caustic and soft and sad. But they make me feel anything but. They make my throat close over. They make me feel loved, adored.
Safe.
“If I were to kill Patrick, it would be face to face, in a fair fight,” Alaric says. “Well, mostly fair. I know you don’t understand all our laws and customs, so you cannot see a difference between the heinous things I have done and the heinous thing done to Patrick, but thereisa vast difference. I have a difficult time believinganyvampire capable of such a crime. Husking is an unspeakable act, one of our most forbidden atrocities. The Upyr responsible deserves whatever tortures my mother dreams up?—”
Alaric breaks off mid-sentence. He leaps to his feet like a cat, his dark eyesscanning the room.
“Alaric, what’s wrong?”
“There’s someone in my castle.”
“What?”
“I cansmellthem.” He sniffs the air. “They smell like … patchouli.”
Wait a second …
Alaric crosses the room with silent steps and thrusts an arm behind one of his enormous tapestries, pulling out a handful of strawberry-blonde hair to which is attached an Isis.
“Unhand me, vampire!” Isis grabs for one of her necklaces. “I have a charm to make me impervious to you! No, wait, that one’s for werewolves … gimme a sec here …”
Isis starts furiously sorting through her necklaces. Alaric looks confused.
“Give it up, sis. None of those charms work.” Dora emerges from behind the same tapestry, picking a cobweb from her hair. “Valerian, you should really dust behind these things.”
“You—” Alaric starts.
“I suppose we should join the party.” Maisie drags Mina and Oscar out from the tapestry behind my chair.
Celeste crawls out from inside the towering liquor cabinet, and Beth and Komal sheepishly wave from behind a third tapestry. Alaric looks like his head’s about to explode.
“The whole Nevermore Coven is here?” I ask as Komal flops down beside Dora, her volunteer firefighter jacket covered in bonfire soot.
“Everyone except Arabella. She says she doesn’t do surprise drop-ins on vampires, but really it’s because she’s just painted her nails and she doesn’t want to move before they dry,” Komal says.
“They dragged me along, too.”
I yelp in surprise as Gideon pokes his head out from inside a large decorative urn.
“Hello, lovely Winifred. Sorry, Allie,” Gideon shrugs. “They forced me to drive them over here, said they had to speak with you urgently. And I have your spare key, so …”
“You could have refusedthem,” Alaric snaps.
“We’re not good with no,” Komal supplies. “Is this the hospitality we get for literally sticking our necks out for you?”
“What are you all doingin my castle?” Alaric’s hands ball into fists. “Winnie’s had a harrowing night. She should rest?—”
