Chapter 11
11
T his time I’m ready when Melody shows up. Her soft knock still makes me jump, my body tense as I try to force my mind into some sort of calm.
When I open the door to her, she gives me an apologetic look. “Are you ready? They’re waiting.” She drops her chin, her hands clasped in front of her. Her knuckles are pale, as if she’s squeezing hard.
“Are you all right?” I ask.
“I’m fine.” She meets my gaze. She’s closed off, her freeness from earlier gone and a stony resolve in its place.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She straightens and places her hands at her sides.
“You can tell me. I’m pretty sure any secrets you give me aren’t going to leave this place.” I don’t have to say it’s because I won’t be leaving here alive. I think we both know that.
She walks at my side toward the staircase. “You aren’t the only one Whitbine interrogates while he’s here,” she says quietly.
“Oh.” I look sidelong at her. “Valen lets him question you?”
“It isn’t a choice.” She shrugs. “Lord Dragonis must obey the high lord in all things, as must I.”
“No conscientious objectors, then?” I quip, something to cover up the raging of my heartbeat.
“Impossible.” She shakes her head. “The bloodline is absolute. Gregor’s word must be followed. High Lord Dragonis has ordered Whitbine to question all within the upper houses. The high lord suspects everyone and won’t stop until he discovers what happened to Theo.” She wrings her hands. “We are blood bound to do as he commands.”
“Blood bound—what does that mean exactly?” I take the steps slowly, deliberately. This is the most information I’ve gotten on the vampires since I’ve been here.
“Valen is the high lord’s direct descendant,” she says as if it explains everything.
But there’s a vast ocean of knowledge between us that only she can navigate. I’m drowning in what I don’t know.
“Direct descendant, right. So, um, what does that mean exactly?” I prod.
She pauses on the stairs to look at me. “Their blood is bound. Gregor is more than a simple sire, he is Valen’s true father. Anything Gregor wills, Valen must obey or suffer the consequences.”
I cock my head to the side. “If Gregor told Valen to cut off his own head?—”
“Gregor’s compulsion is powerful on all creatures, and even more so on those of his direct line. Though, of course, using that compulsion directly against Valen would be a violative act. Enough to turn Blood against Blood. An act of war…” Her voice dies off as she glances around. “But yes, if Gregor compelled it, Valen would be bound to obey. But there is plenty that binds Valen to Gregor without the use of compulsion. Gregor’s influence is constant, just as his will.” Her voice is so low now I can barely hear it.
I can assure her there’s no one to hear. I’ve never seen another soul in the castle, except Gorsky lurking here and there. And what hides even deeper, the husks. I shudder involuntarily and ask, “So Valen must do what Gregor says, but if Gregor actually uses the compulsion hardcore to make it happen—that’s bad?”
“Come.” She moves more quickly, taking the stairs with unearthly grace. “We’re only prolonging the inevitable.”
“Is compulsion their only power?” I ask.
“No,” her clipped reply as we reach the level that sends a shiver through me.
I follow. Several times along the way I wish I’d brought the knife with me. I left it concealed under my mattress right beside my journal. It wouldn’t be of much use against Valen or Whitbine, but it might come in handy if I ever make it free of this place. And—a darker part of me whispers—I could use it to end all of this once and for all. If it comes to that.
“My favorite patient.” Whitbine grins from his spot just inside the door, a spider waiting for its prey to walk into its web. Valen glowers at him from deeper in the room, the green flames sending odd shadows across his face. Healed now. The gash is completely gone.
“Open for me.” Whitbine offers me a capsule. “I’ve created a new delivery method to make quicker work of my subjects, though, of course, I’m more than happy to do it the old-fashioned way with you.” His fangs lengthen as he brings his wrist to his mouth.
“No.” I grab the capsule. My gorge rises, but I force myself to swallow it. There’s no point fighting. This is going to happen—and quite regularly it seems. I’ll survive it the same way I survived it when I was still in the cell.
“There we are.” Whitbine gestures toward the same sofa as before. “Let’s have a chat.”
He goes through the same questions, asking me about my time at the castle. When I recount Valen biting me, his eyes narrow.
“Did you enjoy his bite?”
“No,” I answer quickly. “Yes,” comes out directly after, self-loathing burning like acid in my heart.
“Mixed emotions, I presume?” He clucks his tongue. “Did you ever enjoy my bite?”
“No.” My answer is flat. No other word pushes past my lips. The no is final.
Valen growls low in his throat. “Get on with it.”
Whitbine scowls and continues his interrogation for long moments. My voice grows hoarse as I narrate every bit of minutiae. He listens raptly, his focus never wavering. I hate his gaze on me, his attention, the way he sometimes brushes his hand against mine. “I’d very much like to see this journal of yours.”
“No.” My mouth snaps shut after I spit the word.
Whitbine gives me an indulgent smile. “No secrets between us, Georgia, remember?”
“Yes.” The compulsion forces my answer.
“Good. I’d hate to think something as small as a journal could shake our trust in each other.” He raises his hand to my cheek as if to stroke it, but I shrink back.
He hides his disapproval in another question. “Lord Dragonis hasn’t questioned you again about his brother’s death?”
“No.”
“Curious.” He lifts his gaze to Valen. “My lord, I would think you’d be far more interested in learning the truth of what happened to beloved Theo.”
“Perhaps it’s slipped your mind, Whitbine, but I’m High Lord Dragonis’s Specter. While you’re frittering your nights away playing with your human subjects, I’m wiping them off the face of the earth city by city, town by town. Do instruct me when I should abandon my duties fighting Gregor’s war to return here and ensure this single human—who very well may have no information whatsoever—is properly questioned to your standards.”
The Specter. I should’ve realized it before now—it’s Valen. He’s Gregor’s executioner, the vampire whispered about by all newcomers to the cell. The one whose bloodlust rivals only that of his master. A creeping horror spreads through my veins, and it must show on my face because Valen’s sneer only grows as I stare up at him.
Whitbine bows his head. “Lord Dragonis, I meant no offense.”
“None taken.” Valen’s tone says otherwise. “Now if we’re finished here, I have duties to attend to.”
“Of course, my lord.” Whitbine brushes his hand along mine again, his fingers lingering at the scars he left on my wrist. “However, I would like to ask her about Theo’s?—”
“Perhaps if you’d wasted less time spying on me through your questioning of her, you could’ve done your job and gotten the information our high lord seeks. However, you chose a different path. As such, we’re done here.” Valen is behind me, his presence like a looming wave set to drown me.
“Yes, my lord.” Whitbine dips his chin even lower as Valen pulls me to my feet.
“Let’s go,” he orders.
Though I’m under no compulsion from him, I put as much distance between myself and Whitbine as possible, only slowing once I’m safely back in my room. I’m shaking, but it’s not as bad as before. I feel as if I’ve dodged a bullet, but I have no doubt Whitbine will more than make up for it at our next interrogation. The thought sends me reeling, and I pull out the small dagger from beneath the mattress. Just having a weapon—even one as ineffectual as this—gives me a sliver of comfort. Or perhaps it gives me the slightest sense that I might have some sort of control over my future, however short it may be.
I’m able to move around the next day. Ever since Valen took me outside, I have a better grasp on days and times. It’s as if that brief glimpse of the sky reset my internal clock. I estimate it to be morning, perhaps just after dawn, when I leave my room and head to the stairs. As always, I pause at the top and listen. No sound, not even the faint hum of Gorsky snoring in one of the bedrooms behind me. He’s been quieter lately, out of sight. It’s a good thing. I don’t want to see him. But it also makes me uneasy, especially given his threat. I run my hand along my side, the blade tucked in the pocket of my loose joggers.
Then, as quietly as I can, I move down the stairs. When I get to the Green Flame Level, as I call it, I keep my breathing calm and even. I need to investigate every cranny of this horrible place—and that includes the rooms where I’m interrogated, no matter how much I hate it down here.
The red dragon motif has gotten old. I ignore the jade green eyes staring at me as I creep through the double doors that lead through several rooms. They are all so overdone, dripping with finery. I wonder how old the golden tapestries and ornate chandeliers are. And why would Valen choose to live in a place like this? If anything, he’s somewhat austere in his appearance. I’ve never seen so much as a ring on his finger or any hint of the gaudy style that surrounds him. I suppose I can just add that to my pile of questions.
I keep going. Sticking to walls and ducking behind cases filled with pieces of China or statuary. A hoard, treasures everywhere though no one is here to appreciate them. Only me.
When I get to the room with the green flames, I peek inside. It’s empty. No fire. No Whitbine. I wipe away my sweat mustache and venture deeper, farther than I’ve ever been in this part of the castle. The rooms seem almost endless down here, and there’s no apparent reason for why some rooms are attached by short hallways and others lead directly onto larger areas. There are plenty of paths I haven’t taken, and I expect it would require hours, maybe even days, to explore every nook.
I creep along, taking in the many doors, each of them marked with the red inlay tile. Dragons, all of them watching my every step. I’m scowling at one of the dragons, this one with blue eyes, when I hear voices.
Creeping forward, I edge around a wide couch to another set of doors. One is slightly ajar, light shining through the crack, and I move closer, taking each step with utmost care so as not to make a sound.
“—timing was still wrong. When we got there, Carlotta’s forces were already rounding up humans and executing them.” A male’s voice, but not Valen and not Gorsky. Who’s here?
“I can’t do anything about it. Not now.” Valen sounds tired. There’s a strain in his voice I’ve never heard before. “Gregor demands we kill until no human still draws breath. You know his orders. If Tantun arrives before the rest of our forces, it’s another step closer to the throne for them. They’ll take any advantage they can get. It’s all part of their ploy—pretend to be loyal now and strike at the first opportunity. Traitorous wretches.”
“We have to work out a better solution.”
“There’s no solution to Tantun bloodlust. Or Gregor’s, for that matter. We have to keep pushing.”
A loud sigh. “Have you seen him?”
“Yes.” Valen.
“And?”
“He grows more erratic by the day. More bodies. He’s ordered the servants to put a fresh corpse in his bed every morning. He wants to wallow in blood, to delight in death.”
“And there’s nothing to be done?” the other man asks so quietly I almost miss it.
“Nothing I can do. You know that.”
“And nothing Corvidion and Tantun haven’t tried to do a thousand times over and failed. Fuck!”
They’re silent for so long that I wonder whether they’re preparing to jump out and grab me.
“What of the dissenters?” the stranger asks.
“I executed those 12 Corvidions three days ago. No Tantun has spoken against the human extermination.”
“One of the 12 was of my line. Druin.” The visitor doesn’t sound angry. Only sad.
“I know,” Valen’s somber response.
More silence. Uneasy and thick, as if there’s something unspoken going on that I can’t sense. I close my eyes, listening hard for any sound.
“And her?” the visitor asks, finally breaking the quiet.
Valen gives a short, harsh laugh. “ Her .”
“Has Whitbine broken her, gotten the information he seeks?”
“No. She’s strong.”
“He’s stronger. A human can’t stand against a vampire, not even a weakling like Whitbine.”
“True.” Now it’s Valen’s turn to sigh. “But she may surprise us all.”
I yelp when something brushes past me.
“Mightn’t you, little rabbit?” Valen’s whisper in my ear sends cold terror washing through me. He grips my shoulder and pushes me ahead of him, through the doors and into a library. “She was too shy to announce herself.”
“Vampire hearing.” The newcomer taps his ear. “You aren’t slick.”
Valen walks past me and takes a seat on a couch, the furniture in this room far different from all the opulent rooms I’m used to. It’s almost homey, except for the two stories of books that span the formidable distance from the doors to the back wall. And the destroyed canvases along the walls. Each ornate frame holds a shredded painting, only hints of eyes and mouths showing in jagged bits.
“Sit.” Valen gestures to an armchair nearby, one of the arms frayed.
I edge to it, keeping both of them in front of me as I sit. “What is this?”
“A library,” Valen answers dryly. “Perhaps I overestimated your perceptive powers after all.”
I grit my teeth to prevent myself from saying anything that might lead to me getting my throat ripped out.
“You just going to take that, Doctor?” The other man asks.
I turn to him, opening my mouth to explain how I don’t have the luxury of talking back when I notice he has two black wings peeking over his shoulders. Whatever I was going to say dissolves away. All I can do is stare.
“Like them?” He wiggles his dark brows, his deep brown skin smooth and perfect. “Fancy a ride?”
“Coal.” The name is a growl between Valen’s teeth.
He grins. “I’m Coal. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Georgia.”
“You know my name?”
He shrugs. “You’re the talk of the Black Cavern.”
I don’t like the sound of that. Not at all.
“Can we actually get to the subject you’re here about?” Valen settles back in his seat, his form relaxed in a black button-up shirt and jeans. He looks almost casual, far different from the usual all-black head-to-toe attire he favors.
“The ball.”
“A ball?” I ask.
“Her hearing still works.” Coal smiles at me again. There’s warmth in it. Unexpectedly so. Then he glances at my wrists. The scars.
I pull my sweater sleeves down quickly and cross my arms.
He has the grace to look away. “Gregor has given orders, and he won’t change his mind. He says it’s to reward the warriors who took Atlanta and?—”
“Atlanta’s been taken?” I blurt, my palms going sweaty. Why does that bother me so much? I’ve never even been to Atlanta.
“Corvidion’s legions—” Valen tips his chin at Coal. “Has the city under its control for now.”
“What will happen to it?” I ask, fearing the answer.
“For now, we’re containing the humans. We have air superiority—the last of the military’s fighter jets don’t pose any real problems for us. Just the bombings they unleash, but they’re manageable. We have plenty of resources underground.”
I look up at the impenetrable stone. Somehow, the conflict seemed far away. I’ve been too wrapped up in my own private hell to let my thoughts venture farther. But the country is at war. Humans are fighting for their lives against impossible odds. The plague. The vampires. I rub my temples.
“Wait, but what about during the day? People can fight back. You can’t come after them. Or are there others like you?” I lift my gaze to Valen.
“There’s only one of him. Be grateful,” Coal says.
Valen gives him a withering look. It’s almost like … banter. Are they bantering?
That’s when it dawns on me. “Wait, are the two of you friends ?”
“Coal is my Corvidion commander.” Valen stands. “Come, little rabbit.”
“Just your commander?” Coal gets to his feet, and I realize he’s even taller than Valen. Hulking and huge, his shoulders corded with thick muscle where the wings stand at attention. “I thought I meant more to you than that?” His teasing tone is more shocking to me than the bat-like wings.
“Shut up and plan the festivities.” Valen’s tone is clipped. “I’m for Atlanta.”
“Wait, you didn’t answer my question.” I call to Coal over my shoulder. “What about daytime?”
He keeps pace with us. “Blood Dragonis has plenty of humans in thrall, not to mention plenty of volunteers who think they’ll be turned into one of us once we’ve won the war.”
“You won’t turn them into vampires?” I ask.
“Not a chance.” Coal chuckles darkly. “But it’s enough motivation to get humans to turn on each other, so that’s what we’re going with.”
For a moment, I thought they were people. That they were friends, creatures with feelings, relationships. But they aren’t. “You’re really out there just killing us? You don’t care? You won’t do anything to stop this?”
Coal cuts a look to Valen, then returns his focus to me. “Why would I?” he asks coldly.
“Because it’s wrong!” I shout, anger heating my face. “Because we aren’t roaches to be crushed under your goddamn boots!”
“Get the ball planned. I’ll return for it.” Valen’s grip tightens on my arm as he walks me through the maze of rooms and out to the landing.
“Yes, my Lord Specter,” Coal’s voice is flat.
“It will never happen. You can’t wipe us out.” I pull against his hold as he marches me back through the rooms and corridors. “There are simply too many of us. We have the numbers. An entire planet full of humans. We?—”
“You had the numbers.” Valen’s grip is relentless as he pulls me up the stairs to Piano Bay.
“The plague hasn’t killed enough of us for you?—”
He spins me to face him, his hands gripping my upper arms. “I’m not talking about the plague, little rabbit. You’re not thinking big enough—a common failing of your kind, one which we’ve exploited to great benefit.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Your beloved sister gave Gregor the nuclear codes, the bombs, the guns—every-fucking-thing he wanted. What do you think he did with that knowledge?”
I stare up at him, not understanding, or maybe refusing to understand. “No,” it comes out in a whisper.
“Oh, yes.” His eyes bore into me. “We can use fangs or we can use nuclear warheads. It doesn’t matter. In the end, humanity is fucking done. Paris, Tokyo, Jakarta, London, entire swaths of China—wiped out. Obliterated before they even knew what was coming. It was all too easy.” The icy cruelty in his words hits me like a fist.
“No.” I shake my head, my vision blurring. “That’s not possible. There’s no way. Juno would never?—”
“We aren’t mobilizing to the west. Do you know why?”
I don’t want to hear any more, don’t want to believe it. “No.”
“Because Los Angeles is gone .” His grip is so tight it hurts. “That’s how far Gregor got before someone at the Pentagon figured out a way to circumvent him. He’s murdered millions, maybe billions, and he’s given orders that we are not to stop. Every vampire in the world obeys his command.”
“Including you?” Hot tears roll down my cheeks.
“ Especially me,” he snarls. “It’s best you remember that.”
My breath catches in my throat, my mind shorting out at the sheer horror of it. How many people? How many?
My chin trembles as he releases me and stalks away, disappearing into the gloom of the level below.