Chapter 9
Avrum
Henri isn’t in the courtyard, or in the ballroom, so my next stop is the library.
Worry gnaws at me. I hope he’s there and not in his bedroom, wondering where Haven has gone off to.
Since the moment I left Haven’s room, I’ve been trying to think of a convincing enough excuse as to why Haven is taking a bath, safe, in her bedroom instead of tied up for him in his own.
How am I going to lie to the man who created me?
As I walk through the library doors, my mind swims with possible lies, but none seem good enough.
One of the wingchairs had been moved to face the glass and, settled there, is the silhouette of a man.
The circular space is empty except for him, and when I listen in for the sound of his heartbeat, what comes to my ears is a slow, thunderous boom. The kind my immortal soul recognizes.
Henri.
As I approach on quiet feet, it makes me think of sneaking into a lion’s den, trying not to disturb the slumbering beast. It’s an accurate comparison, now that I think about it.
I hold my breath.
“Desire, desire I have too dearly bought, with price of mangled mind thy worthless ware.” Henri’s voice rises up, and I freeze in my spot. Is he talking to me?
“Too long, too long asleep thou hast me brought, who should my mind to higher things prepare.”
There’s nothing else for me to do but wait.
He continues. “But yet in vain thou hast my ruin sought. In vain thou madest me to vain things aspire. In vain thou kindlest all thy smoky fire. For virtue hath this better lesson taught, within myself to seek my only hire, desiring nought but how to kill desire.”
A weighted silence follows.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Henri asks, still not turning in his seat. It’s then that I realize he’s been reading something out loud. Whether he meant for it to be directed to me or not, I’m not sure.
Finally, Henri rises from the chair and walks around it to face me, his long fingers running up its arm, up to its back.
In his other hand, he holds the book he’s been reading.
It’s bound in leather, and his eyes are transfixed on the open page.
The sound of his heartbeat remains at the same lolled pace, but I can feel my own speeding up.
“Sir Philip Sidney.” Henri’s dark eyes lift to meet mine over the book’s edge. “One of the best poets of his time.”
I feel myself agreeing, even though I don’t know of the man.
“Have you ever read any of his poetry?”
Wondering what this has to do with anything, I hesitate. This feels like a test of some kind, another challenge, but then I shake my head.
With a flick of his wrist, he snaps the book shut. “I hope you aren’t bringing me bad news, Avrum,” he says instead with a brow raised.
“N-No, my lord.”
“Good. I’m not in the mood for any bad news at the moment.” He draws in a deep breath, inflating his chest. “Now, what did you have to tell me?”
My mouth opens, but I’m unsure what to say. And the way he’s staring at me makes me uneasy.
“Is it about Haven?”
My blood pushes through my veins in a frantic race, and anger stirs with it. Just hearing him say her name, knowing what he’s done to her, it ignites something inside me I’ve never felt before. A hatred so strong, I can feel every one of my muscles clench with restraint.
I used to admire this man. I used to strive to be like him. I thought he was full of compassion and generosity, but he has none of those things. He’s a trickster. A manipulator. A sinister and cruel person through and though.
But I know I can’t stay silent forever, even though the words I want to say will expose me if uttered out loud.
He watches me carefully, studying me, so I force my anger down and reply as calmly as I can manage, “It is, my lord, but not for the reason you think.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve sent her for a bath…”
Henri’s face snaps toward me, with irritation flashing in his eyes. Tossing the book onto the chair, he closes the space between us in two great steps but, to my own surprise, I don’t flinch.
“You’ve taken her from my room? Without my consent?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say, “but with good reason—”
“Explain.”
I take another second to compose myself and try not to give anything away. Henri isn’t only clever, he’s my maker, which means he can sense things in me others can’t. I have to keep the illusion of total loyalty.
“I am sorry if I went against your wishes, my lord, but the heat of the water will relax her now and help restore her energy for later. I figured you would prefer it that way.”
Head tilting to the side, he considers my words for a moment and then, to my complete amazement, nods. “That is true. Although I was trying to teach her a lesson by keeping her there, I suppose a bath wouldn’t hurt.”
Play to his ego and pride. That seems to be the best way.
“I would prefer a word next time though.” He recovers quickly and rubs the dark hairs on his chin. “I need to know everything that happens with her.”
I can’t imagine why.
Gritting my teeth, I fight the immense disgust I feel to keep it off my expression and bow my head. “Of course, my lord.”
Turning around, Henri walks back to the chair. As he looks out the window, his face is touched by shadow, and for the hundredth time since last night, I wonder how I could’ve ever believed in this man. How could I have been so blind?
“I am glad you are here, Avrum,” he says, not looking at me. “I actually have a bit of news to share with you as well.”
News? What could that be?
“As you know, there are others besides us,” he begins. “Many more. The world is vast beyond these walls. And, like all of them, I have a maker, someone who gave me immortality, as I have given to you.”
I don’t know why this takes me off guard.
I shouldn’t be surprised that Henri was turned into a vampire, like I was.
As Lysander said, our kind has lived for centuries.
But Henri has always held himself in such a high regard, it’s hard to imagine someone stronger than him, or a life he lived before this one.
It’s just nearly impossible to wrap my head around.
He goes on in my silence. “I have invited some good friends of mine to come and visit us, and I want to give them a warm welcome here. The last party you helped me with went so well, and I was wondering if you would help me this time, again.”
I clenched and unclench my jaw. Giving Henri my help is the last thing I want to do, but if I refuse, he would suspect a change in me. Refusing isn’t really an option.
“When are they expected to arrive?” I ask.
“By the end of the week.”
“I will handle everything.”
“Excellent.” Henri comes over to me again and rests a hand on my shoulder. His touch is weighted, like lead.
“Appointing you as my second is proving to be one of the wisest decisions I’ve ever made.” Henri’s fingers curl into my shoulder, and the expression on his face stays friendly despite the hard, threatening grip. “Don’t let me down.”
“I won’t,” I reply, the whole time thinking how much Henri’s words sound more like a warning than anything else.
Although every window I pass on my way to the foyer has been closed tightly by heavy drapes, I can still feel the power of the incredible morning sun behind them. My muscles are sluggish from exhaustion, but my day is hardly over. Today my lessons with Lysander begin.
Upon Lysander’s recommendation, I changed from my normal more formal attire into tan slacks and a loose, ivory shirt. Something movable and less constricting. I’m going to need to move freely, according to him, so I picked the clothing I believed fit his requirements.
When I reach our meeting place, I find Lysander already there waiting for me, his blond hair tied back from his face and his arms crossed about his chest.
“Are you ready?” he asks.
“Yes,” I reply quickly, feeling uneasy under his stern look. “I suppose I am.”
“You can’t just suppose.” Lysander spit the last word as if it was a curse on his lips. “If you wish to ever be good enough to beat a powerful immortal, like Henri, you have to know. Be committed. Always know what you want and what you are willing to risk to get it.”
Not knowing what he means by that exactly, I only nod.
Lysander grunts. “Another thing. As a vampire, we may have eternity, but I am also impatient. Don’t keep me waiting next time.”
I laugh, but when I see his expression only hardens, I stop abruptly. He’s not joking.
Then he turns and walks away. “Follow me.”
As he strides up the main staircase, taking two steps at a time, I hurry to catch up.
We walk through a small hallway, up another set of stairs, to the main hall where the bedrooms laid.
Every door is shut tight, including Haven’s, which I glance at as we pass.
The gas lamps are turned down low, and my vision sharpens against the dimness.
When we turn down another corridor, I wonder how I’m going to keep this secret from Henri. As proven by my run-in with him in the library, it’s hard to lie to him as it is. How am I going to manage this?
“There is one more floor above us now,” Lysander whispers from over his shoulder. “The rooms are mostly empty, but some guests do stay there.”
The third floor. I’ve rarely been there myself. Like he says, it’s usually empty unless we have a large number of guests visiting.
“Is that where we are going?” I ask. We head down a small hallway and up another set of stairs. “One of the empty rooms?”
He shakes his head. “We are going above even that. The grenier.”
I pause.
Lysander peers at me from over his shoulder. “The attic.”
At the end of the hall, another staircase rises, reaching up into the blackness. Without hesitation, Lysander climbs up, leaving me to follow in his wake. The squeaking of the old wood under my shoes is the only sound.