Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Harriet
Something is wrong with my spiral coin tower.
I noticed it the moment I walked into my office—my perfect spiral sitting on the window table where I left it.
I set down my bag and move closer, studying it.
The coins are there, but they’re not lined up. The spiral is sloppy. Did I just think I lined them up, but I really didn’t?
Was I way more upset than I thought?
I sink into my chair and stare at the wrong little tower, unnerved. What’s going on? Did the stress of seeing Alexandru drain KC affect my perception?
Good grief, am I starting to go buggy like my father?
No. No way.
I take a breath. Then another.
Still, I don’t know what to think. Somebody would’ve had to knock it over and start again to get this sloppy look. Who would do that? Not Alexandru, and surely not Gregor.
Is it me?
Right then, a familiar urge rolls over me. It’s the urge I’ve been getting lately whenever I’m faced with something difficult.
The urge to find the black ledgers. To resort to them, as if they have some wisdom, somehow. As if they’ll put the world right in a way that all the coin sculptures, spreadsheets, and databases never could.
I tell myself I don’t want them. I saw my father, all muttering and weird, poring over those ledgers. I refuse to end up like that.
And this attraction to Alexandru needs to end. I know what he is—how can I dream of kissing him again? How could I have watched him kill and feel something other than horror?
No.
And I’m not going to go and find the ledgers.
And I’m not going to sit here like a victim. I need to take control of the situation. I need to figure out a way to get free of him. Neutralize him. I can’t imagine it, but wouldn’t it be justified in terms of how many lives I would save? How did I ever think he might change?
It’s a moot point. I don’t know how to kill him, or even if he’s killable. I need more information. I need to make a plan.
And in the meantime, Alexandru and I need to set some boundaries.
Whatever is happening between us has to stop. Now.
I find him in his study.
He’s standing at the window, watching the storm, his profile regal against the gray light. He doesn’t turn when I enter, though of course he heard me what with his bat-like sonar hearing.
“Ms. Renfield.” His voice is cool and distant. “I trust your excursion to town was restorative.”
“We need to talk.”
He turns, expression unreadable.
I force myself to hold his gaze, even though every instinct is telling me to look away. “There’s something... happening between us. And we need to discuss it.”
For a long moment, he just looks at me. “Something happening between us.” Then, ever so slowly, his lips curve into a smile. “You Renfields. Always so dramatic.”
Heat suffuses my cheeks. “I don’t believe I’m being dramatic.”
With a sigh, he moves away from the window, ambling along the rows of books with his usual predatory grace. My pulse quickens, just watching him. “What is it, then?”
“You kissed me, and the kiss was, as I recall, pretty intense.”
“For you, perhaps.”
The words hit like a slap. “Excuse me? No way, it was intense for you, too.”
His chocolate-dark eyes sparkle in the gloom.
“Dude. Don’t even deny it. I may not have vampire empath voodoo, but I was there. You were into it.”
“I was hungry. And you, Ms. Renfield, smell very much like food.”
My belly does a sad little flop. “Well,” I say, “let’s not let you get so very hungry ever again.”
“Let’s not.”
“Like ever, ever, ever again,” I bite out.
It’s here that I hear the scraping sound. Faint but persistent, coming from somewhere above us.
I stop. “What is that?”
Alexandru’s expression doesn’t change. “It is Gregor.”
The scraping continues. Metal on slate. I move to the window and peer upward into the storm.
A figure is on the roof. Dark coat whipping in the wind, rain plastering his hair to his skull. He’s hunched over the gutter line, and in his hand—
I spin around. “Gregor’s on the roof? In this storm?”
Alexandru settles into his chair with the air of a man perfectly at ease. “He is cleaning the gutters. With a spoon.”
“It’s a thunderstorm!”
“Gregor is heartier than he appears.”
“With a spoon?” The horror of it crashes over me. “He’s on a slate roof in a lightning storm, cleaning gutters with a spoon?”
“The gutters have needed attention for some time.”
“Don’t you even care about him?” The words burst out of me, raw and angry. “He could fall! He could be struck by lightning!”
“His welfare is not your concern.”
“I’m making it my concern!”
Alexandru’s eyes snap to mine, and for a moment, something dangerous flickers there. “Be careful, Ms. Renfield. You remain in my household at my pleasure. I can still banish you to the cellar to count rice in the dark.”
“Why?” I demand. “What did he do to deserve this?”
“He displeased me.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is the only answer you will receive.” He leans back in his chair. “Now. To business. You may take a respite from hunting. I will simply drain Dooley Brogan next month when I feel the urge to eat. You will continue to attend to my empire.”
“What? No. Dooley could very well be innocent!”
“Your society has labeled him a murderer.”
“But they changed their mind! Sort of.”
“It is decided.”
Of course he doesn’t care. He’s a monster who sends his servant onto a roof in a lightning storm.
“I’ll find you someone else,” I say. “A real killer. Give me time.”
His gaze drifts back to the window, dismissing me. “Close the door on your way out.”
I leave without a word.
But all night, as the storm rages on, I hear the scraping of Gregor’s spoon against the gutters. And I wonder what kind of life I’ve stumbled into.
And if I’ll ever find my way out.