Chapter 7
The carriage comesto an abrupt halt. It pitches forward, though I grab the metal handhold on the side to keep from flying out of my seat.
“What in the Otherworld are you doing?” I demand as I throw open the carriage.
Benjamin is there blocking my way before I place one foot outside. “Stay inside.” He glances over his shoulder at the vampire lord’s home. “Wait until I’ve gone.”
“What happened out there?” I ask.
“An axel broke when we hit a rut.” With that, he shuts me in.
He said that as though it were an accident, instead of intentionally steering to hit it. I don’t understand why he’s acting as if Thomas were right here.
It doesn’t take long for Ben to unharness the horse and ride off. The pounding hooves quickly fade into the distance. I stay put, counting the minutes crawling by.
The sunlight changes to deep oranges and reds, and I finally climb out. The evening light casts Lakewood manor in hues of gold, making it look like something out of a fairytale.
There’s no time to linger as the sun is setting faster than I expected. Soon, the lesser demons will slither from the shadows with their formless bodies. If they catch me out here, there’s no saying what will happen. Will they tear me apart with their razor-sharp talons or drive me mad until my body gives out?
With a quick glance at the road, I find it in worse shape than it should be. One of the carriage wheels rests in a deep rut. No wonder an axel broke. It seems my dear friends have been making the road conditions worse while I’ve kept the viscount distracted.
The second horse is still fully strapped in. “Damn him to the Otherworld!” I mutter under my breath.
I’ve never even saddled a horse before, let alone hooked one up to a carriage. There’s no time to dwell on my annoyance at Ben for not making this easier.
The sky has become a deep purple to the east, fading to black. The mournful cry of demons waking seems to come from every direction. It grows louder by the minute.
Finally freeing the horse, I climb onto its back and urge it into a run down the road toward the manor. When I reach the gates, I jump down to open them.
But they’re locked.
Stupid. How did we not anticipate something so obvious?
The horse nickers and shifts, sensing the presence of demons. I dismount and whisper soothing words, stroking the velvety muzzle.
There’s no use in forcing the poor beast into a panicking race for safety. I wouldn’t be able to reach the city where oil lamps illuminate the streets throughout the night to keep the demons at bay, and home is even farther away. There is only Thomas’s manor beyond the gates.
“Zadie?” My name comes to me, soft and uncertain. Barely more than a whisper of wind.
I whirl to see Thomas’s confused face and nearly weep with relief. He doesn’t wait for me to speak before he throws open the iron gates and picks me up like I weigh little more than a sack of grain, setting me astride the horse. Then he’s at my back with an arm around my waist. He guides the horse in a gentle trot, as if we have all the time in the world.
The gate slams shut behind us. I twist to see who else is with us. But there’s no one. Only the ever-changing shapes of lesser demons reaching. Though none even stick a limb through the bars.
“Don’t worry, they won’t come any closer than that.”
Angling my head up, I gawk at him. “Iron doesn’t harm demons. Did you have it spelled?”
“There’s no need. They can’t trespass on a higher demon’s territory.”
At first, I think he’s joking. Except he isn’t smiling or laughing. My blood turns to ice. I try to ask what he means and why we aren’t running for our lives, but the words catch in my throat.
“It’s all right, Zadie.” Thomas speaks to me the way I talked to the horse. “Every vampire sired by the queen is bound to a higher demon. I promise they are far more intelligent and in control of their actions than they appear. You will not be harmed.”
A distant memory of one of my earliest lessons surfaces. Lesser demons are wild and vicious, haunting the darkest shadows and waiting for an unsuspecting human to stumble across their path. But they never encroach on territory belonging to one of the vampire queen’s court and their demon.
Thomas is the only vampire lord within hundreds of miles, The other vampires in Sangate are lesser vampires, sired by the court members.
We ride to the stable to settle the horse in for the night, then continue on to the manor. Once inside, he offers me tea, surprising me when we enter the kitchen, and he begins preparing it as he has always done it himself.
“My servants go home to their families at night,” he says to my perplexed expression. “I would like to think I’m at least capable of doing simple things for myself.”
“Oh,” I say, unable to think of anything else.
Thomas clears his throat as he sets out two cups. “What were you doing outside my gates so close to night?”
The question is light, but I catch the slightest hint of suspicion. Either that, or it’s my guilt getting under my skin, knowing he should be suspicious of me.
“My driver broke an axel.” There’s a slight inflection on the last word, though I meant to say it as a simple fact.
“Is that a question?” His hands pause their movements as he lifts his gaze to arch a brow.
I shake my head. “He’s an idiot.” It comes out harsher than intended. I cross my arms and glare at the steaming cup of tea set before me. “His eyesight must be failing him because he steered into a pothole the size of barn and snapped an axel. Then he went to get help, leaving me to wait.”
It’s almost all truth. Especially my annoyance.
“Well, you’re more than welcome to stay here for the night. I don’t think anyone will be coming to fix it before dawn.” Thomas takes a sip of his tea. “It’s fortunate it happened near here.”
Again, I catch a hint of suspicion. Only this time there’s also admonishment.
To avoid answering, I lift my cup and drink. The hot tea scalds the tip of my tongue.
Our conversation grows more natural and comfortable. Once we finish our tea, we stay where we are. And when my stomach rumbles loudly, he fixes me a modest plate of meats and cheeses. I politely refuse the glass of wine he offers because tonight I need to keep my wits about me.
Eventually, we move to the drawing room. There’s already a roaring fire. The furniture here is the same beautiful dark wood as his bedroom. I curl up on a plush sofa. The upholstery is the softest leather I have ever touched.
It’s all too easy to feel at ease with Thomas—even when he teases me until my face burns. I need to keep reminding myself to be on guard because he could turn into the monster terrorizing the city, thinking my footman left me alone in the carriage. It would be easy for him to discard my body somewhere along the road as if demons got to me. Breaking down near someone’s home doesn’t make them guilty.
But he is all charm and smiles. When he asks me about the books I studied over the last week, there is genuine interest. He asks questions that help me see where the holes in my knowledge are. Thomas even seems to catch that my main interest is herbology without my saying so. At one point, he mentions a title the library doesn’t have. And in seconds, he is gone, then back, holding it in his hands.
We talk for hours, though it feels like only minutes pass. Yawning breaks up my sentences more and more, and eventually, my eyes grow watery from exhaustion.
I trace the gold lettering on the cover with my finger. A long silence stretches out between us. It seems neither of us wants our conversation to end. For the first time, I have been able to discuss my studies at length without someone’s eyes glazing over or changing the subject.
The grandfather clock chimes into the silence, and there’s no denying or ignoring the hour. It’s already halfway through the night. Retiring for the night means putting distance between us. I resist the urge to get closer to him, both emotionally and physically. A challenge I wasn’t expecting when the night began.
He leads me to a guest room on the third floor on the opposite end of the hallway from his. I stand in the doorway and watch him enter his room. Thomas turns and offers me a smile and a nod. He looks at me with heat and longing, and I wonder if it mirrors the way I am looking at him.
It’s a silent battle of wills. I’m not winning against myself, though. At least I’m not losing. I release my breath as he enters his room and closes the door.
My nerves spike, and I’m no longer tired. Regret colors the memory of tonight. If only my story wasn’t a lie. If only there wasn’t a murderer on the loose. If only I met him under different circumstances… and whatever is growing between us wouldn’t be built on a lie.
An oil lamp on the night table lights the room. I pace, chewing on my bottom lip. If anything, his actions tonight only proved that he is every inch the gentleman that he appears to be. It’s not too late to call off this plan?—
I shake my head. No. I must find out either way. And if he’s innocent, I will tell him everything… if he’s willing to listen and doesn’t hate me.
I tug the hidden tie at my waist and unwrap my skirt. Underneath, I wear leggings similar to men’s pants, only tailored to flatter a woman’s figure. Years ago, my favorite seamstress and I devised the style together. It looks like a typical lady’s skirt, allowing me to dress as a lady of my station is expected, but with the ability to change for fencing or sparing practice without having to carry extra clothes with me or go home.
The two blades Benjamin gave me are strapped to my legs, one on each thigh. With every movement I make, they seem to glint with malice in the lamplight. I stride over to the bed and douse the flame.
After a while, my eyes grow accustomed to the dark. The gentle ticking of a clock is the only other sound in the room except for my breathing. I wait for over an hour. The minutes drag on and on. I remain standing, resisting the temping bed, because If I sat down, I would be asleep before I knew it.
When I’ve waited as long as I dare, I tiptoe to the door and open it a crack. The light under Thomas’s door is out. As I slip into the hallway, I can only hope the saints are on my side tonight. Then I slowly make my way to the stairs and down to the second floor.
My shoulders relax when the third door I open is a simple yet elegant office. I guide the door closed behind me, then take everything in.
A wide desk is to the right, with a fireplace behind it. To one side of it is a globe resting on a floor stand. Directly across from that is a window with a table between it and the door. Bookshelves are built into the two long walls. Other than that, the only other thing in the room is a life-sized bronze-colored cat figurine in the corner behind the door.
I start at the desk. My fingers hover over the closed ledger. I’m not sure what sort of evidence there could be. If he’s guilty, then he wouldn’t be stupid enough to keep a record of names and dates, especially out in the open like this.
To ease my conscience, I decide to leave, what is most likely, his financial records for last if I don’t find anything else. I search the drawers, finding no sign of trophies he might have taken from victims or anything made of night-forged silver.
Quickly, I move on to the shelves. I’m not exactly sure if there’s anything that could be hidden among the vast number of books. It’s unlikely that I’ll find a hidden lever that will open a secret door.
I’m beginning to think there is nothing to find because Thomas is not the murderer. Then I spot a book without a title on the spine that doesn’t quite fit with the other books. I pluck it off the shelf. The slightly warped pages have the deckled cut of a journal.
A book falls against another in the new gap. The strange thunk sends my pulse racing so fast I think my heart might explode. Once I get my nerves under control, I grab that one too. Something shifts inside.
The leather groans as I lift the cover. A curved blade resembling a claw with a hole big enough to hook a finger through sits nestled inside. The grip is nothing more than a soft leather strip wrapped around the bottom. Though I’ve never seen night-forged silver in person, it is unmistakable. Nothing else could look like liquid moonlight. My breath quickens. I remove it, testing it out in my hand, then slide the hollowed book back in its place, then open the journal.
Thomas’s neat handwriting is on every page. The dates vary, never too close together. Some are dated before he moved to Sangate. I don’t read more than that—my invasion of his privacy is bad enough as it is.
Keeping my eyes on the dates, I flip through the pages until I come to the last year. Even then, I only read a few lines here and there. I search for details only the killer would know or something that shows irrational anger toward other vampires and the humans who volunteer to feed them.
Towards the end, there is a single entry about the equinox ball dated a few months after the murders begin. After that, there are only a few short entries without dates.
Tragedy has found Sangate again. The authorities still have no leads.
The tragic events are growing more frequent. I expect them to become more so until the culprit is caught.
“Bruising around the mouth and fingertips.”
Note: research.
While none of these are close to confessions, anxiety twists in my chest.
“What in the Otherworld are you doing?” Thomas’s voice is filled with a dangerous warning.
I start, and the journal falls to the floor at my feet. He grabs my shoulder and whirls me to face him. The claw blade is still clutched tightly in my hand.