* * *
We waited until sundown. Willow Park was a sprawling manor surrounded by perfectly manicured gardens and willow trees. My mouth went dry at the expanse of it all, at all the rooms there had to have been, the many places the newborns could hide. I didn’t know exactly how many newborns were in there, but if they had overtaken this place, I knew tonight would be a bloodbath.
We stood before the arched entrance draped in trailing ivy, as we waited for each member to get into position around the manor.
Sebastian stared down at me. He had been staring at me the entire carriage ride here and the entire walk up to the manor. His expression blank as usual, but his eyes held a sort of rage he could not conceal. I tried to ignore him, but it was becoming increasingly more difficult by the second.
He finally spoke, “So, your father’s a little fucked up.”
“Very,” Pari interjected as she stood beside me.
I always requested that Pari was allowed to come with me to these sorts of things. Women weren’t allowed to join the Society. I grew up spying on the Society’s trainings, and Pari was more skilled with a dagger than anyone I had ever seen. Though there didn’t seem to be anything that could change Father’s mind. But I think a part of him was sensible enough to feel guilt at using his daughter as bait, so he allowed me this request.
“Veryfucked up,” he clarified.
I could barely meet his eyes. They were so intense. I couldn’t take it anymore. “Yes, well, he believes in the Society’s ability to protect me, so he doesn’t see it as putting me in danger.”
“Nothing could make this okay,” he deadpanned.
I kept my eyes trained straight ahead, shifting awkwardly beside him. Once Father ensured everyone was in position, Pari, Sebastian, and I entered.
As we paused in the grand foyer, I took in the overwhelming corridor beyond. The floors were made of white marble that was so shiny I could almost see my reflection. Tiny veins of gold ran through the stone, matching the gilded elements throughout the room. Golden chandeliers bathed the room in bright candlelight.
Pari and I were well-versed at this point. She took down any vampire who attempted to get near me as I lured them out. I held on to my measly dagger that had not been used once, as she was strapped with at least a dozen daggers across her chest. Her cascading black locks were braided into a thick crown around her head, and she wore fitted leather armor, similar to mine. I never wore pants except on these occasions. Once, I had tripped over my skirts during one of these missions, and that was the closest a vampire had ever gotten to my throat, apart from recent events.
Sebastian seemed overtaken with my change of dress when he had picked me up. He stared at my legs for a long moment, and I pretended not to notice.
I held out my hand to Pari. I could never do it myself. As I was painfully reminded the other day, I was terribly squeamish around blood. She made the small cut along my palm for me, as I turned my head in the opposite direction and squeezed my eyes shut tight. I didn’t look at the scarlet line I knew was there, but I felt the warmth seep out.
Sebastian looked at me, his face still devoid of expression, but he clenched his jaw and went entirely still. The only subtle indication that my blood was affecting him. And for him to need to rein in his control as he did in the past, my blood had to have been especially tempting.
As the warmth continued to spread across my palm, the halls filled with the familiar guttural growls that forever haunted me. Pounding footsteps scattered about the manor, clashing against the hard stone as they came running.
Pari was at my front as Sebastian was behind. I kept my eyes open and vigilant, expertly maneuvering them around the carnage. They came in droves, and my nose filled with the sickening scent of copper. The white stone quickly slicked in scarlet as they fell around me. My throat burned as the sickness rose. I suppressed a gag.
I thought it would get easier, but it never had. I never got used to the blood. As everyone around me seemed to harden and move through it, I still couldn't stand it.
As the first wave died out, quite literally, we had a moment of silence. I ducked into a small sitting room off the hall. Sebastian followed close behind and examined my likely paled face.
“I just need a minute,” I breathed, slapping my hand over my mouth as a gag came through. He nodded once. His hesitant eyes roamed over me.
Pari stood guard at the entrance watching over the hall. She knew I had my moments.
As my stomach began to settle, I spoke low for only Sebastian to hear. “How did you know to say that to my father?”
He replied in an equally low voice. I kept my eyes from his crimson hand. “I saw the way you looked at the painting the night of the initiation. I figured you did it often, that it would be a believable lie.”
I had grown up with relentless eyes all around me, ones that narrowed and scrutinized, ones that pitied and gawked. But to know that he saw a part of me, that he saw me, that he paid attention in a way that no one had ever had. Something dangerous awakened in me. I had to snuff it out quickly.
I nodded once and headed back out into the hall.
The second drove came as we turned a corner. And as the chaos ensued around me, a quiet voice filtered through the snarling cacophony. All sound hushed around me except for the soft whimpers that bled through. My eyes caught along an open door, and as Sebastian and Pari were occupied, I managed to slip away.
The only light in the room was a weak fire in the hearth, its meager flames casting large shadows across the room. They stretched and crouched, writhing over every surface. The cries could have been a child hiding behind the sofa or an armchair. But as I was about to peek around the velvet chair, I was already well within the room and well within his trap. I was becoming familiar with his presence now. It was an icy chill that wrapped around me. Vampires had warm bodies, but he seemed to be of a different variety. As if he was as dead as his conscience.
Alaric was here.
And though it was his illusion, it was not him who stepped out of the dark. It was a young boy, not much older than eighteen. Though his face was still plump with youth, his eyes carried the weight of compacted sorrow, of something lost.
