No.
My hand flies to her knee. I want to hold her. It was so long ago now, but my raw need to eviscerate this guy is as strong as if he did this to her yesterday.
“When I woke from the stupor, changed forever into a monster, there was Astor, expecting me to thank him for this gift. He was so pleased with himself for creating me. He tied the Antirhodos Collar around my neck and told me that I would be his good luck charm, forever by his side. From that day onward, he never allowed me to take off the necklace, and he never let me out of his sight. It felt like a noose around my neck. All I could think of was the choice he’d taken from me, that all this freedom he promised was an illusion. I belonged to him. I was his property. My desires mattered not, as long as he got what he wanted. The jewels around my neck weighed as heavy as lead.”
I squeeze her knee. Arabella places her hand over mine, as if she’s the one comforting me. “I want to know what you did next. I want to hear how you made him pay for this.”
“I did what women must always do – I pretended to be happy he had changed me. I laughed merrily and kissed ardently and learned everything I could about my new powers. I trained myself a little each day to stay awake as the sun rose. Ischemed. And one night, I sensed my chance. We were alone in the house – rare, as he was always entertaining Upyr delegates from other countries. He had even lent out his Thralled maid to another Upyr. I took him to bed one final time, occupying him until the last possible moment. As the sun rose over the ancient city, he had us crawl into his coffin to sleep entwined.He would lock the coffin from the inside, keeping the key around his neck. I remained awake, and when he slipped into the dreamless sleep, I drew my dagger.”
She bends down and withdraws a long, silver-inlaid dagger from her boot. I can’t help staring at it. It is such a small, elegant thing, but deadly to our kin. Not unlike her.
“At first, I went for his heart, but in the gloom of the coffin, I missed, piercing through his ribs into his lungs and waking him. He thrashed, weak but still dangerous. His hands went around my throat, but he couldn’t get a good grip on me because of the collar. I swiped at his face, again and again, eventually drawing open a wound across his neck. His blood gushed over me. I drank deeply, knowing I needed the burst of strength to finish him off. His hands loosened, and I hacked at his neck until his head rolled away. Then I curled up beside him and fell asleep.”
The horror of it strikes me like a match, lit and burning bright – trapped in a coffin with the monster you just killed and the dreamless sleep calling you under.
I squeeze her hand. She doesn’t pull away.
“When I woke, he was still and cold. I licked the old blood from the silk lining. I knew I’d need all the strength I could find to flee before my crime was discovered. I found the key around his neck and climbed out of the coffin, all while the ancient magic of his blood whispered in my veins. As I cleaned myself and dressed in my finest gown, I noticed the collar of jewels around my neck – not a single delicate setting had been broken during the struggle, nor was there a drop of Astor’s blood to be seen.
“I always intended to leave the collar behind. Who would carry their noose with them? It was too easily identifiable and would be impossible for me to sell once word got around about Lord Astor’s murder. But as I ran my fingers over those sparkling jewels, for the first time Ifeltthe magic in the stones rising up to meet the magic humming in my veins. The collar did bring good fortune, but not to Astor. It had protected me in the coffin. Perhaps it would protect me during whatever came next.
“I threw a fur coat over my dress, buttoned it high to hide the collar, filled a trunk with fine dresses and silk scarves, stuffed every hidden pocket and fold with Astor’s jewels and cash, and held a candle to the wooden coffin until it caught alight. Burned, drained, and beheaded – the only three ways to kill a vampire, and I’d done them all to ensure I was rid of him. I escaped from the house before Astor’s maid returned. I made it to the port and purchased a berth on a merchant ship sailing for Marseille. From there, I made my way to Paris. I intended to sell my fine clothing and the jewels I took from Lord Astor, and use the proceeds to find myself a little cottage in the country. But on my first night, I saw a poster for Sarah Bernhardt performing at La Comédie-Française. I snuck into the theatre and watched her from a secret spot in the lighting rig as she enthralled the audience. I was determined that I could be like her. So I went back to my old trade, selectively selling off some of my riches and saving my coin until I could afford a theatre of my own. And La Petite Mort was born.”
Arabella touches her hand to her throat, almost as if she can still feel the heavy weight of the collar. “That collar was more than jewels to me. I don’t care about the legend. It was a symbol of when I took my life into my own hands, when I freed myself from a man’s shackles. And you took it from me.”
I hang my head. “I am so sorry. If I’d known, I—”
“You what? You never would have taken it?”
I pause. She’s right. I still would have done what I did to save my brother. To save her.
“Exactly.” She shakes her head. “I would not have expected any less. On the scale of my pride versus your brother’s life, your brother would always win. This is our problem, Gideon. We are who we are. We may be guilty of the same sin, but we will always be at cross purposes. What became of your brother?”
“He was shot over a card game in a Whitechapel pub. He died a pauper,” I pause. “He died free.”
She contemplates this. “You said you had a surprise for me.”
“Ah, yes. A Bloodeve surprise – a game of skill and chance.”
She taps her nails. “Not backgammon again.”
“No. Far too boring for the great Arabella Lestrange. All that frowning at the board like every decision is life-or-death.” I pull out the game store bag from behind my chair. “We play Catan. Are you in?”
“I win again!” Arabella throws her cards on the table, that triumphant glint in her eye. “Longest road! I’ve been amassing an empire while you’re over there crying like a little bitch over your ore mines!”
“Urgh, fine. You are ore-inspiring in your talents.”
“Gideon.”
“I’m in ore of your majesty.”
“Gideon.”
“You give me wood—”
She hurls a city at my head.
Small confession: I let her win. Arabella is hopeless at this game. She holds everything too close to her chest and utterly refuses to trade. She’s determined to do everything herself, and because of that, she spreads herself too thin and allows me to monopolise ore and wood. I could have won three times over.
