Then let me burn.
I don’t stop. My rage bubbles to the surface, mingling with the pleasure arcing through my veins. Lucien struggles one final time, and then he sags, his eyelids fluttering closed and his lips puffing with ecstasy. And then he doesn’t move at all.
When I’m done, he’s a dead weight in my arms, his blood cold and stale. I drop him into the gutter, exactly where he belongs. I fumble at his neck and remove the collar. The jewels glitter in the moonlight, pale imitations of their true beauty now that they’re no longer adorning Arabella’s neck. I pocket the necklace and, on impulse, slide the signet ring from Lucien’s finger – the symbol of his hold on the criminal kingdom. I slip it over my own.
Then I take my thin, silver-inlaid blade, and hack off his head.
Some minutes later, I step out of the alley into the busy street, a monster among the throngs of humans. The collar weighs heavy inmy pocket. I wipe the blood from my mouth with my sleeve. For now, at least, my hunger is sated.
My heart is crowded with whispers of blood magic. But at least they drown out the grief.
I wind my way back through the streets to the Seine, where Arabella and I spent evenings walking, laughing, enjoying each other. My fist curls around cold stones. I stare down at the collar in my hands. I don’t even remember taking it from my pocket. The jewels glitter in the moonlight, dappling prisms of pale light across the lapping waters below. Claude would have been smitten with the colours.
I wish I could cut out my mangled, rotten heart.
Arabella never loved me. I was nothing but adistractionto her. And now, because of this damned necklace, I’ll never get the truth from her.
I draw back my arm and hurl the necklace as hard as I can. It sails in a graceful arc before landing with a faint splash, joining that ancient monster in his watery grave.
Tears prickle the corners of my eyes. I don’t blink them away. I let them fall. I indulge my stupidity.
I turn back to the city, a city that belongs to me now. The only jewellery left on my person is Lucien’s signet ring – a key to a new life. His empire is without an heir and here I am, with nothing left to hope for and the blood of two monsters singing in my veins.
I hope Édouard is right. That one day, loving Arabella will feel like a distant memory of a forgotten country. Because right now, loving her is a poison that burns from the inside, and the whole world will feel the bite of her loss.
32
Gideon
Sinead:The wolf is now contained. Incidentally, WHY is there a wolf requiring containment? When I signed up for this job, I was promised the toughest thing I’d have to deal with was entitled vampires demanding I wax their coffins, not an enormous bloodthirsty wolf wearing cute cupcake earrings.
AFTER A QUICK TRIP UPto my apartment to collect the sword Allie made for me, I lead Arabella down the maintenance stairs into the sub-basement level beneath Sanctus House. Her jaw is set in a firm line. She looks ready to swallow my testicles whole, but I know it’s only because she’s afraid for her friend.
At least, I hope that’s why. I’m personally quite a fan of my testicles.
“This way.”
Arabella stalks beside me as I navigate around a bunch of supplies to a locked door. I scan my thumbprint and the door pops open. “She has the dungeon to herself tonight.”
“One question.” Arabella’s jaw clenches tighter. “Why did you evenbuilda dungeon in your fancy upmarket vampire property development?”
“I may be an astute businessman, but I’m also an Upyr.” I hold the door open for her. “If things go wrong out here, we won’t be able to call the police for help. I need somewhere to keep troublesome vamps until we can administer the Mora.”
Fear trickles down my spine. I’m holding the first werewolf seen in thousands of years. What will the Conclave do to Celeste when they learn she attacked the two of us?
Nothing. Because they don’t need to know.
From the look on Arabella’s face, she’s thinking the same thing. I lead her into the small holding area with a grey tiled floor and two thick steel doors with small hatches. Beside each door is a video feed, showing the room on the right empty and the room on the left—
Arabella doesn’t flinch as Celeste hurls her body at the door. Thanks to the “revealing secrets” charm Lilac placed in the walls of the cells, Celeste’s human features are clearer through the fur on her face. I’d think her a CGI creation for a B-grade horror film if I hadn’t felt her very real, verysharpclaws tear apart my flesh.
I glance down. The cuts are no longer bleeding, but they still haven’t disappeared. It makes sense – vampires and werewolves are ancient enemies because we both have the power to hurt each other. That’s what makes us the monsters and humans the food.
Arabella steps up to the door. She slides open the hatch, revealing a narrow slit of thick, bulletproof glass.
“Hello, Celeste.”
The wolf hurls herself against the cage. She is beautiful, and terrifying.
