The two women have a whole conversation with their eyebrows before Celeste shrinks into herself and smiles sheepishly at me.
I’m not amused. Not amused at all. “What evidence do you have for this?”
“I guess… I guess I don’t really have any evidence,” Celeste says. “There was a vampire in the woods near Arabella’s house, but that could have been anyone who lives on the estate. I’ve just been paranoid because I’ve been wolfing out.”
I don’t believe her, but I’m not going to get any information out of her while Arabella is around. She still doesn’t trust me. Well, she doesn’t have to trust me for me to save her adorable arse from getting slaughtered by a husker. I have resources. I can make sure she’s safe without her even knowing.
But it’s best I don’t reveal this plan to Arabella, so I shrug, as if I believe Celeste’s bullshit excuse. “Okay, then, as long as you’re certain.”
“Oh, I am. I am!” Celeste bites her nails. “I hate the full moon. It’s as if my wolf wakes up, my human body goes to sleep, and everything that happens is just a dream. Or a nightmare.”
“How long has this werewolf business been going on?” Arabella leans against the doorframe.
“Since I was thirteen.” Celeste scratches behind her ear. “I mean, I guess I’ve been a werewolf all my life? Contrary to what horror movie lore tells us, werewolves aren’t turned from a bite, like you guys. It’s a gene that’s passed down from your parents. But you don’t start shifting until you hit puberty. Which, let me tell you, when you’re a girl and you start sprouting body hair in random places, is heaps of fun.”
“We know some things from the internet.” I wave my phone.“But vampires either consider werewolves a myth or a species that died out years ago. Are there a bunch of werewolves living in Argleton?”
“Werewolves usually live together in isolated communities,” Celeste says. “That’s why you don’t hear about us. We keep to ourselves. My parents live in the wilderness in Snowdonia. They can roam freely without risking tourists reporting them or trying to pet them. At least, I assume that’s where they are. I haven’t seen them since I left.”
“You left?” Arabella’s eyebrow twitches. She’s curious. I am, too, truthfully. I still can’t believe werewolves actuallyexist.
“I want to behuman. I don’t want to live in the dirty woods and cold mountains and eat raw rabbit meat I have to catch myself. When we weren’t in our wolf forms, we stayed in a remote cabin, so remote that we could only get two television channels. I longed for cosy sweaters and dessert cocktails and movie popcorn and friends to gossip about celebrities with, but that’s not the life a werewolf is supposed to want. I was obsessed with cooking shows. Something about making delicious, sweet, extravagant things for your friends is just so beautiful and fun and human to me. When I told my parents I wanted to be a chef, they laughed. Werewolves don’t do that, they told me. We have itinerant jobs. We keep to ourselves. We stick with the pack.
“But I couldn’t stand the idea of that being my life, so when I was sixteen, I ran away. I figured that as long as I hide my condition and didn’t hurt anyone, I could live in the world just fine. And I’ve done that for twelve years! All through chef training, I lived in a pokey London flat with a lockable storage room downstairs. I lost my bond when I left because of all the claw marks in the storage room walls. But I never once escaped. After I graduated, I got a job doing the catering up at Lachlan Hall, and then I opened the bakery, and my parents were wrong. Everything’s been fine.” Celeste looks between me and Arabella, her expression miserable. “Until now.”
“There’s only one thing to do.” Arabella sways a little on her feet. “You have to tell the book club the truth. Mina, Maisie and Isis will be able to figure out—”
“I can’t tell them!” Celeste wails. “You have to keep my secret. Promise me you will. Please, Arabella?”
Celeste tugs on Arabella’s arm, but it flops in her hands. Arabella’s eyes flutter shut, and she slumps against Celeste, her body becoming dead weight in Celeste’s arms.
“What’s wrong with her?” Celeste shrugs Arabella’s head off her shoulder and lays her down on the floor.
“She’s asleep.”
“Why—Oh, of course. The sun’s out. But why aren’t you asleep?”
“As well as being the viciously handsome vampire of everyone’s dreams, I have some immunity from the sun’s curse. You know what this means?” I ask her.
“That we have to get her to a coffin before she turns to dust?”
“No.” I can’t stop grinning. “It means that I’ve won the bet.”
33
The Killer
IWATCH FROM THE EDGEof the woods as Gideon hurries across the estate with Arabella in his arms. He looks a mess, his legs wobbling and his skin blistering from sun exposure. But thanks to the ancient blood in his veins –myancient blood – he has some immunity.
Shelooks like an angel, perfectly still beneath the umbrella he holds for her, her elegant features calm and serene. Her neck is bare, but I know the necklace must be close. I can sense it.
My Arabella wouldn’t risk that magic falling into the wrong hands.
My own dreamless sleep presses against my eyelids as I watch her, limp and vulnerable, in Gideon Blake’s arms. She may be proud of her ability to withstand the sun longer than most, but both he and I surpass her. It was a must, given what I have had to endure.
I reach down to touch the tear in the fabric of my sleeve. Tsk, tsk, that dirty wolf got far too close. Usually, I can evade it, but in my haste to be with Arabella on her Bloodeve, I’d forgotten about the full moon.
My skin has almost healed. It’s taken all night. Disgusting creature. One day soon – once the necklace is mine again – I’ll have that she-wolf skinned and made into a fine fur coat.
