So I did something I’ve done only once before – I allowed my heart to rule my mind. I made the call. I signed the contract and transferred the money. A place at Sanctus was mine.
A home that I earned, a place no one could take away from me.
Now, Gideon Blake threatens to ruin it with his mere presence.
And the Nevermore Coven want me to stick to him like dried blood on a cashmere scarf.
“What’s changed?” Celeste’s concerned voice murmurs down the phone line.
“Arabella is afraid our little murder investigation will embarrass her in front of all her posh vampire friends,” Isis humphs.
My secrets dance on the end of my tongue, but I need to hold them closer than ever now.
I called Celeste because she’s more likely to take my side if I pull out of spying on Gideon and Sanctus. Celeste – who owns the Glazed and Confused bakery – is the Coven member I’m closest to, perhaps because she’s almost as secretive about her past as I am about mine. I feel safe in her company. Plus, she always smells like cinnamon and lemon curd, which is what matters in a friendship.
Cinnamon and lemon curd andsomething else. Something odd and earthy and wild that I can never put my finger on, but my vampire senses tell me is notentirelyhuman. But Celeste doesn’t ask about me, so I don’t ask about her. That’s our unspoken rule, and it’s worked well for us.
Unfortunately, I didn’t know the Meriwether sisters were visiting the shop when I called, and Celeste put me on speakerphone, a betrayal I’ll not soon forget.
“What’s changed is that I don’t want to do it. It’s dangerous.” I run my hand over my head. When I lived in Paris, I used to trap my curly hair in jewelled combs, pins and tiaras. Now I wear it in a buzzed short style that accentuates my long neck. “There is a murderer on the loose. We should leave this to the authorities. Tell Alaric’s mother our suspicions. Let the Conclave handle it.”
Cleo VII slithers to safety as I toss the catalogue onto the bed.
“Except that’s not true, is it?” Dora says firmly. “You don’t want to bring the Conclave into anything to do with Sanctus. That will bring court scrutiny down on this little vampire community, which is the last thing you want when you’re moving there.”
Even without my secrets, Dora makes me uncomfortable because she knows metoowell. Humans should not have the power to see the future – even for Upyr, the magic of Dust Court vampires makes us nervous. Humans with magic are like stilettos on a trampoline – impressive in theory, catastrophic in practice.
For nearly as long as there have been vampires, the Upyr of Europe have been ruled by a series of vampire courts. The number and natureof those courts have changed over the centuries, but now there are three. The Nightshade Court, who excel in warfare. The Midnight Court, which is the court of entertainments and frivolities, and the Dusk Court – a secretive cult of magicians. Vampires are not required to be affiliated with a court, but those of us who are uncourted are still expected to obey their laws without enjoying any of the benefits.
Affiliating with a court breaks my rules. I’ve gotten along just fine for nearly a hundred and fifty years without relying on the courts for a handout, and I’m not about to start now.
I can’t risk a court finding out that I broke one of the cardinal vampiric sins.
Isis senses my hesitation and pounces. “Winnie told us that you know Gideon from years ago. She also told us that Callista tasked Gideon with finding this murderer, and Gideon cares about Sanctus so much that he’ll do anything to get the Conclave off his back. He’s our best leadandthe reason you’re suddenly a vampire chicken. Did he break your heart?”
I wish I could reach through the phone and pluck out her eyes.
“I’m not a chicken, and Gideon Blake didnotbreak my heart.”
“That’s impossible.” The shop bell sounds in the background and a new voice joins the conversation. Komal.Wonderful. “Arabella would have tohavea heart for Gideon Blake to break. No offense, Arabella. Don’t mind me, ladies, I just came in to get a box of cream fruit buns. I’ve got a village council meeting tonight and I’ll need copious amounts of sugar to deal with Councillor Durant. Ever since he announced his mayoral campaign he’s been even more insufferable than usual—”
“Komal’s right,” I snap.
“I know I’m right. That man is determined to ruin all my ideas for making Argleton the best tourist destination in Loamshire, and he’s the reason there isn’t funding for theGazette, either—”
“No, I mean, you’re right that Gideon didn’t do anything as dramatic as break my heart. He stole from me and destroyed the life I built for myself after my Kiss. It took me decades to remake myself into the ravishing creature you know and love.” I pick up the phone and train the video camera on my face. “I simply don’t relish the thoughtof spending time with him while he’s strutting about as king of his private kingdom.”
“Then do what you do best,” Isis says in that annoying singsong voice of hers. “Make him understandexactlywhat he’s missing out on.”
“We know Gideon can’t be the murderer, but we do need eyes on what’s going on at Sanctus,” Dora says. “Gideon has information we could use.”
“Then ask him yourself.”
“Arabella, youpromised—”
I hang up the phone. The woman in the painting stares down at me, her expression filled with disapproval. I step over Cleo VII and turn to my closet. I’ve started packing some of my older gowns between layers of tissue.
I run my fingers along the beautiful fabrics, my mind whirring over what Iris said, before selecting a crimson suit with immaculate black patent leather piping along the seams.
