I sweep into the garden, admiring the world Gideon has created. A stream runs through the middle, but it’s been corralled into a mosaic trench with little steps and sculpted corners to create a pleasing babble of water. Little bridges and stepping stones enable visitors to cross over without wetting their feet. The crowd mills around on the crisp white stone pathways, lit at the edges by LED strips that change colours, while night-flowering plants burst into bloom from the beds. Large braziers at either end of the garden take the chill off the evening, and the air swirls with inviting floral scents. It’s modern and clean and sofar removed from the dazzling gothic finery of the courts, and I love it. Gideon has—
No, don’t give Gideon credit for this.
Gideon hires people who dream up this stuff for him and then stands in the spotlight and lets everyone congratulate him for his genius. Gideon is currently on the brink of total financial ruin. Gideon is vampire enemy number one because many of our kin think he’s trying to establish his own court in Sanctus, which, looking around, isn’t too far from the truth.
He doesn’t build things. He doesn’t create.
He destroys.
But this time, I’ll destroy him first.
Ten sculptures stand on plinths down the length of the garden, each one covered in a black cloth, ready for its big unveiling. Near the bar, a quartet of human classical musicians – three men in decadent Baroque ensembles and demonic face paint, and a woman in a flowing red gown – play a strange and eerie composition that sends a delicious shiver down my spine. I would have hired them at La Petite Mort…
“That’s Broken Muse,” Alyra whispers as she appears at my side and hands me a blood cocktail. “Gideon knows them. He flew them off their European tour specifically for this event. They’re exquisite, especially the violinist. I’d like to have a nibble on that gorgeous neck.”
I seethe internally as I sip my drink. Of course, Gideon hangs out with rockstars. This life of his should have been mine.
It can still be mine. Once I take Sanctus from him.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Mina and one of her husbands, Moriarty, cornering one of the servers, who keeps touching her neck. I spy Celeste at the catering table, fussing over the dishes, and Winnie is rubbing Alaric’s back and whispering encouragingly in his ear as he stares at the covered sculptures with a mixture of terror and derision.
“We shouldn’t talk about humans as if they’re meat for the slaughter,” Alyra’s companion says stiffly. “If we create a culture of othering them, then it becomes difficult to reconcile our issues with consent—”
“But theyareother,” Alyra rolls her eyes. “They’refood,andoccasionally entertainment, like cat videos on the internet. But they hardly deserve ourrespect.”
“We were all human once—”
Alyra laughs and hugs her friend close. “I’m teasing, you silly goose. Arabella, I’d love you to meet my friends, Luminita Le Fey and Eleanor Mock, both of the Blood Alexandre. Ladies, this is Arabella Lestrange, of the Blood, er—”
“Just Arabella,” I interrupt.
Alyra’s smile freezes, but she doesn’t make a fuss over why I refuse to give my blood allegiance. “Eleanor is our resident activist. She’s working on a campaign to raise awareness of the issue of illegal siring. She wants every vampire who sired without consent to face trial. Isn’t that absurd?”
“I think that’s a wonderful idea.” I lean in to air kiss Eleanor’s cheeks. She does the same, and when she steps back, she looks excited.
“I’m so pleased you agree. If you like, you can come along to our first meeting. It’s next month in Brimstone.” She fishes around in her handbag. “Let me find you a flyer—”
“She doesn’t want a flyer, Eleanor. She’s just being polite. Arabella, welcome to Sanctus.” Luminita leans in for an air kiss. “You’re a friend of Beth Duncan. I saw you dance at her studio opening. You were sublime.”
“I was helping out my friend. I don’t do that sort of dancing.”
Anymore.
“Oh,please,Arabella.” Luminita’s tinkling laugh grates my nerves. “Modesty is useless for a vampire. We’ve all had our bad girl century – Alyra can tell you about that time we stowed away with Sir Francis Drake.”
“Those jolly days on theGolden Hinde… he should have named that ship the Golden Behind for how much that man worshipped my derrière.” Alyra laughs.
Luminita hoots, “Pirates do love their booty.”
I smirk.
Alyra nudges her friend. “But nothing can beat Luminita here. Why, she once left some rather graphic graffiti on a pillar in the Hanging Gardens of Babylon.”
“You did?” I give Luminita a second glance. I’d have guessed her a younger vampire, Kissed fewer than a hundred years ago. Even by vampiric standards, she isstartlinglybeautiful. Vampires don’t age as humans do, with wrinkles and grey hairs, but time leaves its marks on us. We develop a deathly pallor, as if we are turning to stone. Our eyes grow hard, crystalline. And we becomemonstrous, less empathetic to the cycle of life and death after existing outside it for so long. I’ve known such vampires in my life, and they are terrifying and dangerous. It had already begun to happen to Alaric before Winnie came along and made him reconnect with the world again.
But Luminita is so fresh and vivid andalive.
“Don’t look so shocked, Arabella. This is all thanks to your friend.” Luminita touches her hand to her cheek. “Alyra and I both have a weekly standing facial appointment at Zen and Tonic. We swear by Beth’s beauty elixirs.”
