Chapter 25 #2
“Ah, Alexander. The man is a lowly worm.” I nod again. He narrows his eyes at me. I barely refrain from glaring back at him. I don’t like this man. Something about him raises my hackles. “What is it about children? You only see them when they want something.”
Huh. I squirm in my chair. The pureblood doesn’t know me; he knows nothing about me. Yet I find myself looking down at my hands in embarrassment: he has a point.
I knew I shouldn’t have come here. I just…I didn’t want to be responsible for another person’s death, so without proper thought, I jumped at an opportunity to gather information. Perhaps, being honest, I also used it as an excuse to see my mum.
No, I shouldn’t be here, and I blame bloody John. I wouldn’t be in this room if it wasn’t for him. I’d also be more scared of the pureblood.
John broke something inside me…or…maybe he let something out? I lift my eyebrows. Wow, that’s a scary thought.
Alexander is a centuries-old master vampire and responsible for his own actions.
I remember the vampire’s crazy rolling eyes…
his giggling. You can’t talk sense into that kind of person; it would be useless to try.
I don’t need Alexander’s details, I don’t need to talk to him.
I’m reacting on impulse, an impulse to rebel against John and his ill-conceived protection.
If I got Alexander’s details, what was I going to do?
Say to him, “Please don’t kidnap me…oh, and watch out for the hellhound that is coming to kill you.
” Ha, I didn’t think this out at all. Being impulsive could get me killed.
I’m breaking rule number one: Don’t be a dickhead; and rule number two: Be kind.
I’m not being kind to my mum or myself. I was wrong.
God, I shouldn’t have come here.
I stand. I ignore the pompous Lord Gilbert and smile at my mum.
“I can see you are busy. Thank you for your time—it was lovely seeing you, Mum. I hope we can do this again, perhaps meet up somewhere quiet for a cup of tea?” Her eyes fly to the now-stewed tea on the side.
“It’s okay, I will ring you. I promise.” I turn to leave.
“Didn’t that demon I sent you to not teach you anything?” asks Lord Gilbert.
I stop. The demon he sent me to? What the hell?
Heck, look at that. He made that comment without even a hint of mwahaha. He doesn’t even bother to villain it up—he just drops that bomb without care. Boom. I glance at my mum. She won’t meet my eyes.
Okay, pureblood, I can play along.
My chest aches as I suppress the urge to growl and my eyes burn and go hazy as I fight to stop them from turning black.
My mum’s introduction to Lord Gilbert, when she asked me if I remembered him, now makes more sense—how would I have remembered him if I hadn’t met him before? According to my demon master, my mum didn’t know any vampires before she sold me.
“You sent me to?” I say through gritted teeth. I raise an eyebrow. “Huh. You make it sound if you sent me off to school. So just to clarify, it was you, Lord Gilbert, who sold me to a demon’s household?” He nods his head. I shake mine in response and my nostrils flare.
Un-bloody-believable.
“I didn’t need the hassle of a five-year-old demon spawn.”
What is it about powerful people? How they ruin lives without a thought.
Without care. My eyes flick to my mum and she is crying.
Oh, Mum. Silent tears roll down her face.
All these years I hated her. What a waste of emotion: she never threw me away.
“So it wasn’t my mum’s decision, was it?
It was yours.” I tap my lips. “As you know…what with all my disgusting demon DNA…the last time I checked, a demon was my daddy, not you. You had no right to sell me, Lord Gilbert.” I want to scream and rage at him. Inside, I am livid.
The pureblood licks his lips, enjoying my reaction. I force myself to drop the anger and instead I contort my lips into a smirk.
He starts again to angle his body and face in weird poses, and I realise belatedly that he’s peacocking. If he had feathers, he’d be flapping them about. He looks me up and down, almost like he’s mentally stripping me naked. Eww. His attention makes me want to go straight home and have a shower.
“What’s done is done. I clearly made a mistake in sending you away.
You are a lovely creature, Emma. I can offer you my protection against Alexander, in exchange for you working for me.
” I scrunch my nose as his tongue again flicks out of his mouth.
Eww. Does the tongue thing work for him? I shudder.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a movement. My mum imperceptibly shakes her head no. Her puffy, tear-filled eyes scream at me, beg me, to refuse.
I keep my eyes firmly on his. “No thank you, Lord Gilbert. I appreciate the offer, but I am happy on my own.” I’m not at the stage where I am ready to deal with the Devil—demon pun intended.
God, I will have to somehow let John deal with the Alexander matter. I don’t want people killed in my name. But it looks like it is out of my hands. I am out of my depth.
What I can do is work out how I can get my mum alone and perhaps away from this idiot. Impulsively I step forward, and fold her into a hug. I can’t help the extra squeeze I give her. “I will see you soon,” I reassure her.
“Okay, sweetheart.” She squeezes me back.
“Oh, Emma, you don’t have to worry about your admirer. He is dead. A team of hellhounds killed him and his inner circle”—the pureblood flicks his wrist and looks down at an ostentatious solid-gold-and-diamond watch—“about forty minutes ago.” He smiles at me.
I close my eyes for a split second so I can absorb that nugget of information. I’m way too late. I would have always been too late.
John must have been ready to bust the door down when he called me.
I don’t understand what’s going on in that man’s mind; it’s probably got nothing to do with me and everything to do with John using me as an excuse to settle an old score or old debts.
He’s fooled me so many times, everything he says can be taken as either half truthful or an outright lie.
It’s impossible to understand John’s motivations.
Perhaps rule number four should be: Don’t trust the hellhound.
John at least falls firmly into the territory of rule number one, don’t be a dickhead.
If the pureblood wants a shocked response from me, he will have to wait a long bloody time. He knew Alexander was dead before he entered the room.
Instead, I give my mum a small wave, turn, and head towards the door. I open the door and blessed silence greets me—home.
I can’t help myself: I look back over my shoulder at the pureblood and I’m gratified to see the confusion on his face. It confuses him, why his club is so quiet…ha.
To hammer my point home, I let go of the tenuous hold on my eyes and allow them to bleed black. “See you around, Luther,” I whisper creepily.
I step through the door and disappear.