19
Arabella
Then
BERNHARDT’S BALLOON MAKES EMERGENCY LANDING
In the early hours of this morning, the actress Sarah Bernhardt landed her hot air balloon in the Tuileries Garden, toppling a Rodin statue into the duck pond.
It’s reported that a member of their party was rushed away from the scene, possibly taken ill from the airborne revelry. Bernhardt herself was spied drinking champagne from the mouth of a bottle and swinging a sword at passers-by. She is positively scandalous!
I’M DROWNING. I’M FIGHTING FOR AIR. Hands wrap around my neck, tugging, choking, fighting to free the jewels—
I wake with a wild jerk from the cold death of daysleep, my head pounding, my limbs weighed down by an invisible force.
Immediately, I know things are wrong. I’m not in my dark, windowless apartment in the coffin I have fashioned out of Parisian architecture. I am shrouded in silk, which is good. Arabella Macquart doesn’t sleep in anything less. But candlelight flickers all around me.
And Ihurt.
My limbs are made of a fire that bites and gnashes. My fangs scrape against my lip. They’re heavy in my mouth, like I’m biting twocoffin nails. My vision swirls, and I fight against the fogginess of my mind, searching for answers.
I force my hands to move, to rise to my throat and feel for the heavy weight of my collar.
It’s still there. I still have my magic.
As the room comes into clarity, I don’t see answers, but I do see Gideon. He peers down at me, a wobbly smile on his face. He looks a mess – his hair unkempt, his eyes ringed in dark circles, a line of stubble along his chin giving him a violent edge.
“You’re awake.” His smile cracks wide open. He calls over his shoulder, “She’s awake!”
“Shoo, shoo!” A female voice cries out. My heart thuds against my ribs as Sarah Bernhardt – dressed in a flowing opera gown and fur stole – waves away a horde of medical men. She slams the door behind them.
Panic rises inside me. Those medical men must have examined me. They would have drawn my blood. Will they figure out what I am?
No. I have my necklace. The magic will protect me, as it has protected me all these years.
I wrestle with the silk sheets, frantically trying to untangle myself. Gideon reaches out to press me back into the bed, and I fling him across the room.
He crashes into a tea table, sending fine china and wood splinters in all directions.
Oops.
My breath heaves in my chest. My lungs are made of molten metal. They’re not working as they should. I kick my legs out of the sheets. I have to get out of here. He smells too delicious…
“You should rest a while more,” Sarah says breezily, as if all of this is completely normal. “You took quite a turn. Giddy has been nursing you for three days and nights.”
He has?
Snatches of memory come back to me. We were in Sarah’s hot air balloon, and I was having such a grand time, I didn’t realise I’dstayed out too late until the sun peeked over the horizon. The last thing I remember is Gideon catching me as I collapsed and—
“Ow.” Gideon picks himself up and rubs his head where he hit the table. “I brought you here. I didn’t know what else to do. I have no idea where you live, and I didn’t think you’d want anyone at La Petite Mort to see you like this.”
I slump back against the pillows, my head spinning and my stomach growling with hunger. My sire made me all too aware of the effects of the sun. I’ve avoided it up until now, not wanting to put myself in a vulnerable position. But I was having such a good time that I became careless, and look what happened.
And Gideon… what does he think? Has he seen my fangs? Has he figured out what I am? He can’t have, because if he had, he would have run far away or called thecommissaire de police.
The magic is still protecting me.
I touch my collar as Gideon kneels beside the bed, his hand stroking my forehead. “You’re still so cold. Should I have the fire lit?”
