Chapter 14
Haven
Ican’t stand this dusty, old attic a moment longer. How long does Avrum expect me to wait here?
Now that I think about it, I’ve been waiting for him a lot lately, haven’t I?
Looking across the room at the weapon trunk, I spy my short sword on top of it. Mocking me.
I can kill Henri now if I want to. I have a sword. But that’s a foolish thought, I know. He’s stronger than I am by far, faster, and I have never wielded a weapon before in my life. I may have been somewhat lucky with Henri’s letter opener, but he will snap my neck before I can even lift the sword.
I sigh. When it comes to these creatures, waiting is the only thing I can do.
I search around the room. The last time I was here, Avrum and I had been wrapped in each other. There were no threats, no pain. Just pleasure unlike I ever thought possible.
Heat rises to my face and I turn away from the wall and the memory. How silly to be embarrassed by such a thing.
The thudding of boots on the attic stairs yanks me from my thoughts. Fear spikes through me that it’s Henri or Keagan about to find me, but when the door opens, revealing a very frantic and disheveled Avrum, I sigh in relief.
“Haven.” He half-chokes my name and closes the door behind him a little too hard. He’s breathless, his eyes wide. “Lysander has killed Cornelius.”
“Cornelius?” But that’s a good thing, isn’t it? Then why does he look so frightened? “He was a brute. Now we don’t have to worry about—”
Avrum closes the distance between us and grips me fiercely by the arms. “No, you don’t understand. He was the distraction. Lysander. He’s sacrificed himself.”
It takes a moment for his words to click. We had needed a way to keep Henri occupied and me out of his room, so Lysander has killed one of his guard to do just that.
My mouth hangs open, my voice caught in my throat.
“He could be banished for this. Or even killed. Henri had him hauled away. He’s been locked in the servants’ quarters until Henri decides—” His eyes roam my face as if he’s hoping for an answer.
Or even some direction on what to do next.
Neither are things I can offer him. I’m as confused and shocked as he is.
There’s a pause, and then he adds, “I cannot believe he did this.”
Avrum’s grip falls off me.
“He didn’t tell you anything about his plans?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “There was no discussion of it. It took me by complete surprise. By the time I realized it, Cornelius’s head was rolling onto the ground. It was too late to stop it.”
I wince at the image of a bloody head detached from a body. I never knew there was a true way to kill these creatures, but it looks like there is.
“A-Are you sure he was dead?” I ask, and rub my own neck, glad my head and body are still intact.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“What happens now?” I hate to admit it, but I am terrified. Truly and utterly terrified.
Avrum rubs his forehead and draws in a deep breath.
After a long moment, he says, “You will go to your room, and I will send for a guard to be placed in front of your door. Anyone who wants entrance will have to come ask me. And if Henri calls for you, I must be informed. I will hide you here again if so.” He glances over his shoulder at the attic door. “I have to get to Lysander.”
Pointing at the sword on the trunk, his jaw sets. “Keep that on you, always.”
“I will.”
With his arm snaking around my middle, he pulls me in close and kisses me. Hard. All I want to do is melt into his embrace and allow myself to let go of my fears.
When he pulls away, he peers down at me with concern in his weighted gaze. He grabs my hand and interlaces our fingers.
I wait for him to say something more, but he doesn’t. Only holds on tight.
He’s as scared as I am, but we both need to be strong to survive this. I am willing to risk everything for a taste of freedom and so is he, so, hands still linked, we leave the attic together and descend the stairs.
Henri
From the tall windows of the library, I watch the fire of Cornelius’s funeral pyre flicker and extinguish. That’s it. The man he was is gone, and this time there’s no second chance.
Ashes to ashes.
The phrase brings Malcolm back to my thoughts. Sighing, I massage the throbbing place above my brows. Some men still linger on the grounds to pay their respects to Cornelius and watch the black smoke rise. Keagan is among them, standing like a shadow among the trees.
I try to stay focused on the scene below, but my vision blurs and I grind my teeth. I don’t have time for the idiocy of men. One’s dead, the other is locked underground, and for what? A childish game of swords? Now I am two men down, and I have distinguished guests expected soon.
Although Lysander and I share a thread of a past, it does not give him permission to disobey rules and take advantage of my generosity. Especially with the party and Malcolm so close…
An interesting thought comes to me. Had Cornelius’s death been done to make me look like a fool in front of our maker? Is Lysander planning something devious against me to make his own statement to Malcolm?
Moving away from the window, my mind whirls with poisonous schemes.
What a shame. Lysander has been the highest of my guard and the most talented with a sword.
His return to the manor had proved to be quite useful.
However, his indiscretions can’t be ignored.
The last thing I will allow myself to be is mocked, and that means all this has to be dealt with before Malcolm and the others arrive.
I have to be seen at my best, and Lysander’s mishap can be taken as a weakness in my leadership.
How am I going to deal with this?
I roll my shoulders to ease the tense muscles in my neck. Even though Lysander’s death would be the fairest punishment, he’s too valuable a man to kill.
It is possible that I can use Lysander as a sort of example. His mistake, and then redemption, can be used as a model of my mercy and compassion, the very things Malcolm knows nothing of.
Sparing Lysander’s life won’t appear like justice in Keagan’s eyes, but it will be done with purpose.
Besides, I’ve taken countless poor and unfortunately souls into my care.
Redeemed them. Gave them a better life full of riches and esteem.
Malcolm will come and see all the good I’ve done and know instantly that he made a mistake trying to damn me.
I took his eternal curse and turned it into something exquisite; his plans failed with me.
I have prospered.
Avrum
Even having never visited the servant rooms before, I have no trouble finding them. I descend the only staircase off the kitchens and enter into a slender hallway, barely wide enough for me to fit as I walk.
Against the stone walls, only two of the gas lamps cut through the darkness. I pass doors on both sides, while the sound of water dripping echoes from somewhere far off, and the smell of mold tickles my nose.
“Avrum.” Lysander’s harsh whisper makes me jump. “Avrum, over here.”
I run over to the nearest door and lean closer to the wood. “Lysander, are you there?”
“Yes,” he sighs.
“Are you hurt at all?”
“Not besides my pride.”
I glance from left to right, expecting to see a guard, but see none.
“Keagan left,” Lysander says, as if reading my mind.
“Fils de salope. But he should be back any minute now.” Even though I can’t see him, I can sense the eye roll just from his tone.
“He gets great enjoyment out of keeping me here, but he was a little wounded that I wasn’t sentenced to the guillotine. ”
I try not to smile. The thought of displeasing Keagan does bring me some satisfaction.
“Keagan may be outside watching the end of Cornelius’s service,” I tell him. “Henri had his body set on a pyre and burned.”
“Ah, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”
There’s a pause.
“Lysander?” I lean in closer to the door and lower my voice even more. “Those scars on your arm. How—”
“Malcolm,” is all he says.
“Malcolm gave them to you?”
“Yes. He marks everyone he turns. I am just one of many.”
“Does that mean Henri has scars?” I ask, almost scared of the answer.
“He hides his as well.”
I remember the vicious lines across Lysander’s forearm, the raised, pink flesh zigzagged in a way that made it look like it had been done on purpose. How did Henri conceal his?
“Why does he do this? I just don’t understand it.”
“Malcolm searches for those who are loyal to the old ways and for those who have wasted their lives living in sin. The latter are given one chance to redeem themselves…” His voice wavers. I wait for him to continue.
“If they can’t, Malcolm brands them with their sin and curses them. They must live forever with their guilt and without salvation, as I told you before.”
“He’s mad.”
“You must remember,” Lysander goes on, “Malcolm is one of the first of us. Created in a time when faith was the only explanation for living. Things were much different then.”
“But he is no god. He cannot condemn men this way. I’m sure your life before this was nothing—”
“No.” The power in his voice surprises me. “My life before this was everything it should not have been.”
I press my lips into a hard line and glance down the dark hall again.
“I deserve worse than what Malcolm gave me,” he mutters sadly.
My heart aches at those words. Lysander has been nothing more than a loyal friend to me throughout everything. Especially now, risking his life to help Haven and Emma escape without asking for anything in return. I just can’t see how he deserves to be scarred and damned for eternity.
“I haven’t seen him since the night I was turned,” Lysander continues. “I never thought I would ever see him again, until I heard Henri had invited him to this little fête.”
“Do you think he will come?”
“It’s hard to say. Malcolm isn’t known for showing up when he is expected to, but Henri is determined to have him here.”
“Why is that?”