Chapter 15
15
Recovered Journal of Dr. Georgia Clark
June 19, Year 1, Emergence Era
Valen was right. We are at war. With ourselves. With the vampires. With the plague. I was told DC was secure, safe as it can be in these difficult times. All that came to a crashing halt when I realized that the people who are supposed to be on my side don’t know friend from foe. I almost died today. I think the soldier would’ve (portion scribbled out). I have to STOP thinking about the what ifs. It’s the only way I can keep working to save people, even if some of those same people want me dead.
“ W hat do you think?” Melody hangs a deep crimson gown on the high rail across the top of my four-poster bed.
I gawk at it, the fabric silky and draping. Intricate beading on lace adorns it across the bodice, the neckline plunging severely. “Not a chance.”
Melody frowns a little. She walked into my room as if we hadn’t just discussed my untimely death only an hour ago. I’ve cooled off since then, at least a little. Dread is burning right along with my rage, and I keep telling myself that I have to get through the night. That I will get through the night.
“I know it isn’t ideal.” She looks down. “I know it’s …” She wrings her hands. “I know this is all so, so awful. But there’s nothing I can do. Nothing you can do. We have to keep moving forward. We have to survive.” Her shoulders sag a little. “Cold comfort, I suppose.”
A slight twinge of guilt filters through me. “I mean, it’s gorgeous,” I add quickly and walk to the dress. “Really pretty. But I’m not …” How do I put this? “I’m not cut out for a dress like this. You know that. You chose my wardrobe based on old photos of me, right?” I gesture down at the sweatshirt and baggy jeans I donned after the bath.
“You wore a light turquoise gown to your sister’s inaugural ball once she became governor,” she replies with the faintest hint of hope. My olive branch accepted.
“Yeah, but Juno made me wear it. I didn’t have a choice.”
She gives me a pointed look. One that says, ‘it’s not as if you have a choice right now, either.’ Instead of making that argument, she runs her hand down the material. “Just try it on, all right? I think you’re going to look stunning. But once it’s on, we’ll be better able to make a decision then.”
As if there’s any other decision. I’m being forced to go to this ball, forced to wear this dress, possibly forced to die. I have no options. Melody is actually being almost sweet by playing along with me.
“I brought some makeup and other things, too.” She hands me the dress, then grabs a black overnight case and walks into the bathroom. “I’ll set up in here. Just try on the dress, and then we can decide on hair.”
“Why does it matter what I look like?” I grudgingly strip off my sweatshirt and jeans.
Melody doesn’t answer.
With a sigh, I dig around at the dress’s hemline, find the opening, then slide it over my head and down my body. I miss the arm hole, then rearrange the fabric and find it. “It’s too loose,” I call.
Melody appears and in stunningly short order finds the side zip and yanks it home.
“No, it fits perfect.” She circles me, her appraising eyes taking in every detail. “Lose the bra, though. That won’t do.” Her eyes travel lower. “Panties too. I can see the line.”
“No way.” I cross my legs and drape a hand protectively across my sports bra. “No fucking way.”
“I’ll find a set of more appropriate underthings, all right? But the bra truly has to go.” She unzips me quickly and helps me from the fabric. “Let’s get to work on the hair.”
Everything about this feels so … off. It reminds me of when Juno helped me get ready for my senior prom. Awkward and shy and a senior at only 13 thanks to my heady combination of IQ and ADHD, I didn’t have a date and had no clue what to expect. Juno and Mom told me I’d regret it forever if I missed my senior prom. I disagreed, but as in all things, the two of them won out. Juno found me a dress that was formal and at least two sizes too big in the bust. Mom got me a corsage. As it turned out, I’m allergic to lilies, can’t dance, and only stayed at the prom venue for all of five minutes before hiding in the ladies’ room for the remaining two hours. I get the feeling this ball is going to be magnitudes worse, only this time I can fill out the dress.
“You have to trust me.” Melody leads me to the vanity bench. “But first.” She hands me a wine glass filled with green liquid.
“Already moving on to the poison portion of our evening?” I eye the glass.
“Not poison.” She rolls her eyes. “It will help you relax.”
“Pacifying me before slaughter, then?”
“No! How many times must I tell you that you aren’t dying tonight?” She sighs, particularly weary of me this evening. “It’s simply a way to make this evening more bearable for you. That’s all.” She considers for a moment then gives me a sly look. “Would it make you feel any better to know that Gorsky is so jealous that you get to go to the ball he threw a fit and locked himself in his room?”
“Good. At least he’s contained.” I’d love for Gorsky to go in my place. The creepy asshole could even wear my dress. I wouldn’t care. I sit, the fight draining out of me as she goes about curling my hair with a resolve that verges on stern. When I take a sip, the green concoction is somehow sweet and bitter at the same time.
“Not bad?” she asks.
I take a bigger gulp. It burns funny in my stomach, but it warms me up nicely. “I think I’m going to be shitfaced before we even walk in. Wait. You’re going to be there, right?” I ask her reflection. (Turns out vampires have reflections. All the stories are bullshit.)
“Certainly.” She frowns at my hair, then works on curling the same tendril for the third time.
“I need you to tell me everything. What happens at these balls? What’s it like?”
“I don’t know. This is the first one in many centuries.”
I swallow hard. “So this isn’t a yearly sort of thing?”
She meets my gaze in the mirror, then returns to her work. “No. High Lord Dragonis has never been much for parties, especially when bringing all his enemies together under one roof could lead to an attempt—or multiple attempts—on his line.”
“So why the change—oh, shit. Because of Theo?”
She nods. “That and the open war with humans. Plenty of vampires prophesied we’d eventually be forced to wipe most of them out and keep the rest as cattl—” She stops herself. “As a food source.”
I wrinkle my nose. “That doesn’t really make it sound any better.”
“Sorry.” She digs around in her bag and pulls out some absolutely ancient-looking hairspray.
“Is that safe?” I ask. “Will it destroy the ozone layer all over again?”
She glances at the bottle. “No telling.” When she sprays it, I hold my breath, but it doesn’t keep the noxious odor from invading. “It works!” She curls one lock of hair, then another. I suspect hair professionals would decry the damage, but I don’t see a salon anywhere nearby, so I let it go. It’s not like it matters. At least I’m going to my possible death with pretty hair.
“So we’re both going to a mystery ball.” I grab a powder puff and wave it around a little, sending a little plume of white into the air. “Do you think there will be a mystery prince?”
“Only Valen.”
I roll my eyes and take another drink of the green liquid. “He’s not a prince.”
“Not yet.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that his human ancestry has prevented him from being fully heir to Gregor’s kingdom, but now …”
“Now that Theo’s dead, Valen’s all Gregor has left?” I fill in.
“It’s not quite that simple. Theo’s death has changed everything, Gregor most especially. He’s become …” She presses her lips into a fine line.
“Whitbine.” I tap my nose. “Can’t be saying anything about the boss man that could make its way back to him, right?”
She doesn’t respond, but her expression is a plain ‘yes.’
“Fuck you Whitbine, you sack of donkey shit!” I raise my glass in mock toast. “I hope you meet the sun before I meet my maker.”
“Maybe slow down a little.” Melody finishes curling my hair, then runs her fingers through it, separating the tight ringlets into flowing waves.
“My hair has never—and I mean never —looked this good.”
She smiles, and for the first time, I swear I could see her blush. “I’m glad you approve.”
I finish the glass and hold it up. “More?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She takes the glass and digs around in her overnight case.
I hiccup then giggle. “Definitely not a good idea,” she mutters.
“This is bad.” I pace the floor beside my bed, terror slowly creeping up my spine, slowed only by the green liquid. My aches from the nightmare have lessened, another gift of the green mystery drink. Despite its haze, my thoughts are spiraling, full of questions and futile thoughts of escape. Some way out of the ball, some way to avoid Gregor. I don’t know what’s going to happen to me. I don’t know how bad it’s going to get. Despite Melody’s reassurances, every doubt has managed to creep into my mind.
Why couldn’t I have escaped? Why? Valen is toying with me, that’s why. Did he know I was going to try the elevator? He must have. That’s why he left it open. So he could taunt me with the illusion of freedom. He took all my knives, all my options, and I bet he laughed while he did it. I hate him so much it threatens to make me physically ill.
“Fuck.” I almost turn my ankle, my body totally unused to the heels I’m wearing. This is a farce, a horrible farce. Me in this dress, me being forced to go to a damn party when I’m nothing but a prisoner.
“Gregor went to great expense to have these floors put in.” Valen’s voice startles the hell out of me. “The wood was sourced from a single forest in Romania, renowned for its dark wood that many believed sprouted on the field of an ancient battle, their roots fed with heartsblood.”
My hand to my chest, my heart on a rampage, I glare at him. In a sharply cut black tux with crimson accents, he looks every inch the villain. He should dress like this more often, the outside matching the inside.
“It would be a shame for you to cut a trench through the boards with your incessant pacing.” He looks down at me, his gaze sweeping to the floor and then back to my face in a slow, meticulous assessment. “Blood Dragonis colors suit you.”
“A knife in the heart suits you.”
He smirks, his arrogance back in full force. “I believe you tried that already, though your aim was lacking.”
“I won’t miss next time.” I mean every word.
“I have no doubt.” He steps to me.
It takes every shred of courage I have not to move back. Outside, I stand strong. Inside, I want to curl into a ball and hide in the closet. Exposed, I itch to cover myself, to throw on anything to cover my bare skin. The v-cut of the neckline leaves the inner swells of my breasts exposed, and Melody made sure I wouldn’t wear a bra underneath. I don’t even want to think about the underwear she gave me, but I feel it in places where underwear should never go.
“First, do no harm?” he taunts.
“Killing you will be the biggest gift to mankind’s survival since Jenner created the smallpox vaccine.”
“You’ll get no argument from me.” He’s too close to me. His scent, his looming figure, the way he looks at me with disdain and something else beneath it. He drops his gaze again, lingering on my exposed flesh. A blush creeps into my face, unwanted heat.
“I would say that I hate you, but the word isn’t enough. Not anymore.”
“No?” His smirk deepens, his gaze lazily returning to mine. “Perhaps you should hold that thought until we’re done with the ball. I’m certain you’ll have come up with a choice descriptor for me by the end of it.”
“Or I’ll be dead,” I say flatly.
His brow creases the slightest bit, then his expression returns to its cold indifference. “Come along, little rabbit. Time to meet the wolves.” He takes my arm and leads me through the door.
I try to slow our pace, but he won’t let me. His stride doesn’t falter as we descend the stairs. When I see movement on the piano floor, I try to halt. Once again, he pulls me along. People—no, not people— vampires , dozens of them on the landing, almost all of them looking right at me.
My stomach clenches, mouth goes dry. The liquid courage Melody gave me is all but gone, and I’m left with raw fear as I survey the hungry eyes awaiting me.
Music drifts through the air, some sort of classical dirge played almost jauntily from deeper in the castle. The ballroom.
“Lord Specter.” A vampire at the bottom of the stairs gives a short bow, then stares at me. “And this is the human I’ve heard so much about. Quite lovely, aren’t you?” He smiles, his fangs already pressing past his lower lip.
Valen doesn’t even acknowledge him, simply pulls me past as more vampires whisper and watch. The ones with wings all wear gowns of deep violet or tuxes with violet accents. Others have dark green—the females with emerald jewels draped about their bare throats or green dresses that reveal miles of flawless skin. Fewer wear crimson. All of them watch Valen and me, their gazes open and direct.
They move for him, parting as he stalks through their midst. I find myself sticking closer to him. Better the devil you know, I suppose. He doesn’t let go of my arm, his hold tightening as we pass through the rooms, all of them brimming with bodies and chatter. Every accent, languages I don’t recognize, and faces that bend reality with their timeless perfection—the silent castle has come alive, teeming with gorgeous terrors.
“There she is…”
“Fucking humans?—”
“ Omoara-i pe toti ,” a green-draped woman leers at me.
Valen growls in her direction, and she leans away, her gaze snapping to him. Still, he doesn’t stop pulling me through the various salons until we reach the ballroom. I keep waiting for my ankles to give, for my heel to catch, but if it happens, I don’t notice. His grip is absolute, and he seems to be driven by a similar fury to my own. These vicious creatures cower as he passes, shrinking back with hisses and whispers.
I have to take a breath when we step into the ballroom. It doesn’t look like the same space. Crimson banners festoon the walls, and the chandeliers hang lower, their candles flickering brightly, the crowd here just as thick. The music swells, and as the throng parts for Valen, I see a mass of vampires swirling through the center of the room, keeping time with the music in what must be a waltz.
I’m mesmerized, my entire reality already shaken down to its fractured bones, but this is another level of unbelievable hell. Vampires waltzing in an underground castle. My skin erupts in goose bumps at the haunting music and the perfect movements of the couples. Fantastical costumes and effortless, uncanny beauty. It raises my hackles.
Valen doesn’t seem to care, perhaps not even to notice. He barrels ahead, disrupting the dancers as he continues his march onward.
By the time we get across the ballroom, I’m breathless, but I don’t dare stop. Not when the vampires are hissing or glaring at me. Rancor is all around, raw hatred directed solely at me for reasons I don’t entirely understand. Is it because I’m the only human here?
We finally slow, then stop as the music continues behind us. I don’t look, but I assume the dancers are back to their perfect twirls, skirts swishing across the floor in dramatic arcs.
“Stay here.” Valen’s hand disappears from my arm.
A word of refusal catches in my throat, too late. He’s already gone.
I clutch my hands and look around, hoping to see Melody. She’s not here. Instead, the vampires approach, their precise movements predatory and graceful. So many of them, their eyes glinting as they stare me down.
I back up a step. Then another. Where the hell is Valen?
“It’s the Specter’s pet.” A man strides up to me, his green bowtie telling me he’s part of some faction, though I don’t know which. “Left alone, are you? I’ll keep you company.”
“Charles.” Coal steps between us, his black wings obscuring my view. “I didn’t realize Tantun had such a problem with boundaries.”
His wings are black, bat-like. I can see the veins in the webbing, like lightning streaking out from the bone that runs from the taloned tip all the way to the bottom of the wing. They aren’t fully extended yet are still massive. Strong enough to carry the hulking Coal through the air, though I can’t imagine the sight.
“I was simply welcoming her to the ball,” Charles murmurs.
Coal turns his back on him, a clear dismissal, and the vampire slinks away into the crowd.
“You.” It’s all I can manage to say.
“Valen is speaking with High Lord Dragonis. I’ll keep you company until he returns. Come.” He leads me away from the dancing area and into an alcove along the side of the ballroom. There are still plenty of vampires around, but it’s not quite as oppressive. Coal stands ahead of me, his stance tense.
I press my back to the wall, giving myself that small bit of comfort that no one can creep up from behind me. Coal is a babysitter, a welcome one given the way the other vampires keep eyeing me.
The music swells again, the vampires dancing as I watch the crowd. I catch a hint of pale blond hair. Through the throng, the white-haired vampire who took me from the cell sways toward me. She’s wearing a deep green dress tightly fitted against her body. A snake covered in scales. Her eyes seize on me, and she smiles, her fangs showing. She has something in one of her hands, a buckle or something shiny. She yanks it.
Someone screams. No one looks. No one but me.
“Vince.” My insides go cold as Vince, Juno’s head of security, falls forward at the monster’s feet. He’s naked and bloody, his body emaciated.
I dart from the alcove and kneel beside him. “Vince!”
“You’re alive.” He grips my forearm with a wizened hand. Blood runs from a collar at his throat, the edges of the metal covered in twisted barbs that dig into his skin. She’s parading him around, showing him off. His suffering is their entertainment.
“Oh, no. No, no, no !” I grab the collar and try to find a way to remove it.
He cries out the moment I touch it. “You can’t.” His sunken eyes meet mine. “Georgia, it’s really yo—” He screams when the white-haired vampire yanks on his chain again.
“Stop!” I push to my feet. Even with my heels, I have to look up at her, into her cruelly beautiful face. “Let him go.”
“I don’t take orders from vermin.” She snaps her teeth at me.
“Now, now, Carlotta, is that any way to treat Valen’s spoils?” Coal chides from beside me.
“Don’t, Georgia,” Vince says faintly. “Not for me.”
“Silence!” She kicks him hard with her stiletto, and he falls to his side.
On pure instinct, I swing at her. Coal catches my fist, pushing it back down to my side. “No,” he warns.
“Let her try, Coal. We could have so much fun,” she taunts, her pale eyes flashing.
I go back to my knees and help Vince to a sitting position. I don’t ask him if he’s all right. I know he isn’t. He’s bleeding from the collar and now from the hole in his side from Carlotta’s heel. Pressing my hand to the wound, I apply steady pressure.
“It doesn’t matter.” His yellowed eyes are desperately tired, infinitely sad. “None of it matters.”
“We’re still here.” I grip his shoulder with my other hand.
“I’m not,” he whispers. “I’m sorry. I should’ve stopped her. Should’ve—” He coughs, a hacking, dry sound. “I should’ve put my foot down. But I was weak.” His eyes are almost pleading. “Do you, do you think I’ll be forgiven? Do you … Do you think …” He trails off, his gaze going distant.
I don’t realize I’m crying until my vision blurs. Vince’s breathing is labored, his breath putrid, and his skin is covered in bruises and scabs. My brittle soul cracks, hairline fractures destroying me as I look on his ruined face.
“Yes.” I touch his cheek, and he seems to return to the present. “You’ll be forgiven.”
His shoulders droop, and he shakes his head just once. “No, I won’t.”
“Get Valen’s whore out of my way, or I’ll handle her myself,” Carlotta snaps.
“Georgia.” Coal’s hand comes down on my shoulder.
I shrug him off. “Leave me alone!” I speak to Vince. “We can survive this. We can?—”
Carlotta laughs, the sound musical and almost sweet. Then she yanks the chain, pulling Vince away from me. I reach for him, but Coal’s grip tightens, holding me in place as Vince screams.
“No!” I swipe at the air trying to capture his wrist.
Carlotta drags him away, his blood marring the floor as they disappear into the crowd.
“Vince!” I scream.
Coal grabs my arms and pulls me up, then shoves me back into the alcove. “Don’t,” he warns, his dark brown eyes narrowed. “The more attention you call to yourself, the more danger you’re in.”
“I have to help him.” I try to push past Coal.
He shoves me against the wall again, his hold like a vise. “You will stay right the fuck here.”
“Let me go!” I kick his shin.
“Fuck.” He squeezes my shoulders painfully. “Stop!”
“Get her out of here.” Valen appears beside us, his gaze dark. “Now,” he snaps.
Coal lets go and steps away.
Something fires in my mind. A thought. Just a split second of an image. Coal, his wing ripped, his face bloody. My forehead tears apart, the agony so vicious that I yelp, my vision going black.
“What is this?” Valen cups my chin.
I gasp as the image disappears, the pain receding with it. I straighten, my body shaking.
“Georgia!” Valen tilts my face up and stares into my eyes. “What the fuck was that?”
“I-I don’t know.” My voice trembles.
Valen searches my face, his brows drawn together. Then he turns cold again, his demeanor closed off. “Take her back to her room. Stay with her. Now, before?—”
“Welcome all.” A sinuous voice coats the room, the music falling silent, the vampires freezing in place with uncanny stillness.
My breath, already an ephemeral thing, leaves me in a whimper. Gregor. He’s here.
“Fuck.” Valen glances from me to Coal.
“Tonight, we celebrate. Tonight, we feast.”
My heart thumps faster than it ever has. I don’t like the sound of any of this.
“Go. Now!” Valen shoves me into Coal’s grasp.
“Specter, come forward. Generals, come forward.”
Coal and Valen exchange a look, and then Coal is sweeping me back toward the entrance. A hint of relief swirls in my gut.
“Faster.” Coal wraps a thick arm around my waist, lifting me so my feet barely touch the ground. We move even quicker this way. We’re at the doors, the vampires focused on Gregor somewhere in the room behind us. Now past the doors into the outer salon. Out of this madness, away from the hungry stares and evil intentions.
Then Gregor’s voice rings out again. “Bring your humans with you.”