Seventeen
VERITY
“ Y ou can’t be serious, Veri,” Briony calls, concerned, over the sound of me hurling into the toilet, spewing for accuracy and distance. “You can’t even go thirty minutes without puking!”
“I don’t–have a choice!” I grunt in between heaves. I finally wipe the vomit off my face with the back of my sleeve, looking up at Briony earnestly. “I already have Chiara on my ass. Paxton and Megsie think I’m a joke. I have to show up.”
Briony sighs. “I can handle Chi,” she assures me, causing a weak smile to slip through my grimace. I’m sure she knew I’d perk up at her using Chiara’s least favourite nickname–even with her not being around to hear it. “And Paxton and Megsie will understand.”
“No.” I struggle to crouch, flush the toilet, then stagger to my feet. “I’m gonna get ready now. Just give me a half hour.”
That stupid peace party is tonight at seven. I don’t know too much about il Sovrano , but I do know he’s a stickler for rules and keeping your word. Plus, Megsie told him that ‘in no uncertain terms, the Korama Nobility will be in attendance.’ I think about that every single time I puke and desperately want to crawl into my sweat-stained and smelly bed to die.
Briony frowns at me in disbelief. “Uh-huh.” She checks her Fitbit. “In T-minus thirty minutes, you’ll be back down here whining.” She gives me a tender smile as I give her a look in response.
I look her up and down. Briony is wearing a knee-length and low-cut crimson dress that ties at the back. Her long red waves are pulled up into a high ponytail.
“Geez,” I remark. “Where’s the fire, Bree?”
She frowns at me. “I like to dress up,” she reminds me.
I smirk at her through my nausea. “Yeah. At least bring some pillows so when people hit the floor, they won't concuss themselves.”
Briony rolls her eyeliner-framed eyes as I pass her. “Be quiet,” she orders lightly. “And bring the garbage pail into the shower with you.”
Showering was practically impossible. I ended up puking three times over my half-hour quota due to the steam and heat. I finally trip out of the tub and limp up the steps to my loft. My ankle still aches. My head is throbbing. My throat is sore from throwing up so many times. And my fever is still in full swing.
With my luck, I’ll toss my cookies all over the buffet table and get everyone to kill us all anyway. And if this is a trap, I won’t be able to defend my pack. What good will I be to my comrades if I can’t save them in battle?
I ignore the uncontrollable flash of memories that make me nauseous all over again.
Waking up to my first morning without my parents. Seeing my dying grandpa with a happily feeding vamp standing over him.
I can’t let them down.
I can’t disappoint my pack.
I need to just buck up and go.
There’s gotta be some kind of medicine I can take that will stop the puking. That would give me at least a shot at getting through this night in one piece. The pink stuff I choked back a few hours ago did nothing. If we don’t have anything here, I’ll just leave early and stop at the downtown pharmacy on the way to the Casa di Calderone. It’s a small community tucked away deep in the city. Rich people live there, but it’s a different kind of wealth than Vampyr Territory. Old money, I guess.
It takes longer than usual to dry and straighten my hair. I almost quit halfway through, but I know if I look and feel like crap, the rest of the pack–especially Chiara–will shit on me all over again.
I hobble to my small closet, ripping open the door because I lose my balance halfway there and stumble. I look at all my clothes. Briony is way more cut out for these kinds of things than I am. I don’t have a lot of dresses, skirts, or anything that would match up with an old-money Valentine’s Day Peace Party Extravaganza.
Gripping the side of the door, I decide to involve Briony in the outfit selection process–and I’ll promise to pay for the drycleaning if I vomit on anything borrowed.
I open the door to my loft, almost bumping into Briony. She’s already holding two dresses. One hanger in each hand. She’s also smiling smugly at me. “I knew it,” she says in a sing-song voice.
I frown, crossing my arms over my clean pajamas. “Which one?” I finally ask, looking from the yellow one to the black one. I hope she’ll give me her opinion because I’m useless at these things.
Briony smiles at me, her grin as radiant (that’s the best word I can use to talk about her right now) as she is. “The yellow one. It screams Verity ,” she teases me.
“Uh–huh,” I grumble, rolling my eyes. The dress is light yellow, flowing and long. Definitely not my style, even if Briony doesn’t think so. But I guess she was right about the colour–in a way.
I actually do like yellow–I just don’t wear a lot of it. Even if I like it, the colour just doesn’t suit me (not that I think much about these things). It’s too sunshine and rainbows . But I guess I need to make a good impression because I’m now a part of the Korama Nobility–and I have to work double-time on that because everyone thinks I’m the wrong girl for the job.
I gotta trust Briony’s judgement. Unlike me, Briony loves colours and accessories because of her artwork.
I take the yellow dress from her. “Thank you, Bree. Maybe this’ll brighten up my puke-y face.”
Briony scoffs. “I still wish you’d reconsider going tonight, but I guess I see your point. The whole pack should be there.” For the first time while getting ready this evening, her eyes turn wary.
“Keep your eyes open,” I warn her. I wish I could tell her everything, but the thing is, I don’t know what’s true and what’s just a crazy theory. The Queen could’ve had a private ‘unhearable’ meeting for other reasons, not because she’s in Cahoots Central with the Magicena King.
I hate to do this, but I know I need more evidence before I bring anyone else into this mess. It’s too risky otherwise. What if Darren and I are wrong and I've already involved Briony? Then she’s added to the chopping block if Paxton and Megsie find out. I’ll keep an eye on her, keep her safe–but until I know more, I can’t afford to get her into hot water, too.
Briony nods once. “I will. Now shut up and get ready. We have to leave in ten.”
Huh. I guess I took longer in the shower than I thought. Puking my guts out and then dry-heaving must be a bigger time waster than I realized. Damn.
Briony and I are hesitant as we walk out and lock up our house. Briony descends the steps ahead of me. I turn to look back. The three-story house with the red brick has been our home for five years. Before that, I lived with Briony and Bodhi. It’s only natural to feel a strong attachment to this house, to Briony, to Bodhi. I try not to get that way because you never know when those things, those people, will be taken away from you.
I guess I’m just thinking about the fact that tonight could be our last time leaving the house together. Maybe one of us won’t come back. Maybe both of us won’t. We could be waltzing into a warzone.
Briony is thinking this way, too. I don’t need to ask or check with her to know it’s true. She’s facing our car, wrapping her black shawl around her shoulders, but her green eyes look far away, like her mind isn’t on her outfit or keeping warm.
The gray clouds look full of rain. Geez. Like I didn’t feel like shit already–now, we’re gonna get dumped on, too?
Briony snatches the car keys out of my hand. “Hey,” I protest.
“You’re not driving, Veri.” She frowns at me. “You couldn’t even put on your heels without keeling over. There’s no way you’re getting behind the wheel.”
“I guess you’re right,” I grumble as she unlocks our Hyundai. I walk around to the passenger side and open the door. This time, I don’t look back as I hop inside, ignoring the pain in my ankle.
Whatever happens tonight, we’ll be ready. That determination doesn’t go away as Briony and I drive through Korama Territory–but I gotta say, we both begin to sweat as we cross into the sparklies’ side of town.
You can always tell when you enter Magicena Territory: the houses get swankier but in an ‘understated way,’ according to Niles. Even the people walking their dogs or driving their cars have this air of importance. Not everyone here is Magicena, but the magic wielders definitely love living in this part of town. I swear they somehow use their magic to make everything look better, nicer, around here.
Not only that, but my chest drowns in anxiety, my heart thumping nervously in my ears. I sense that we’ve crossed the border, that we are now in Magicena Territory.
Briony shudders. “Blech,” she remarks, slowing down as we approach an intersection. “The sparkly stench is too much.”
I nod in agreement, clutching my stomach with both arms, knowing that’ll do jack shit to stop my discomfort.
It’s not really a stench , but that’s the best way to describe the disgusting sense of uncertainty Koramas get when they cross the Magicena border. Overpowering and crippling. Again–magic.
Sparklies definitely do a good job of keeping out the vamps and wolves. That’s why we don’t usually do any Magicena raids. That and the fact that they’re not as murder-happy as the vamps.
We finally get to the rolling hills and dip in homes leading up to the Casa di Calderone. It won’t be long now.
In seconds, we do the long and winding drive up to the mansion, the sign for Honeysuckle Way to our right. The property is large and intimidating, its high A-peaks visible long before we even get to the gates, which are open. I bet that's a change from the usual.
We drive through, the stained-glass windows, castle-like bottom, and sprawling view of the old-style home looming closer and closer. It makes me nervous–but I’d never admit it to anyone, not even Briony.
We get to the top of the hill and see a circular driveway with a large-ass water fountain in the middle. Cars are parked all over the place. I recognize Paxton’s mom’s Cadillac SRX. I wonder why he chose to bring her car instead of his. Maybe to be less obvious? To bring more of the pack? I’m not sure, and I don’t have the mental space to figure it out. I can barely turn my head without feeling like I’m gonna die.
Briony parks at the outskirts of the driveway, out of the way of a car coming up from behind us. That’s Niles’ BMW. He swerves over to Astraia’s SRX and parks behind it. Briony and I are quick to step out of the car. I see Niles jumping out of his BMW in my peripheral vision.
We’re all jittery and alert.
Niles nods at us and approaches, blond hair styled, adjusting his silver tie. It looks pretty good against his full-out black suit.
“Ladies,” he greets us, blue eyes suspicious as he looks behind us and to each side. Protecting us.
“Hey, Niles,” Briony greets politely, but her tense body language gives away her true thoughts.
“Hey,” I respond, still feeling kind of weird talking to Niles outside of pack meetings and therapy sessions. Sure, he’s a friend, but it’s odd seeing someone who knows all your shit and still chooses to talk to you.
Niles glances behind us as a red SUV pulls into the drive. “Vamps,” he turns to mouth at us, holding his hand out toward the steps leading up to the mansion.
We ascend the steps, hackles raised as we do our best not to turn around and snarl at or massacre the Vampyrs that are now sliding out of the van.
We’re gonna fucking die before this night is over.
I smell a Magicena at the closed set of doors. It’s hard to describe what sparklies smell like. Earthy, I guess. Maybe because they use natural stuff to help with their magic.
I’m quick to get in front of Niles and Briony, even with my limp slowing me down until now.
I’m the Kormo. It’s my duty to protect them, limp or not, sick or not.
One of the double doors opens, revealing a blond in a pink dress. “Good evening!” she greets us–a little too cheery for me. What does she have behind her back, a dagger? But when she pulls her arm out, nothing is there but the ring she was fiddling with. “Welcome to Casa di Calderone! I’m Alia Jackson. It’s so good of you all to come.”
I clear my throat. “Verity. Verity Eadaoin,” I add, realizing I have to be more formal, holding out my hand. “I’m the Kormo, part of the Nobility representing the Cold Moon Pack.” I glance behind me. “This is Briony Moon and Niles Wideman.”
Alia nods at all of us, her welcoming smile so nice, it creeps me out. “Oh, wow! Welcome! Trevor, my husband, has been telling me all about Koramas. I’m so excited to meet the Kormo.”
What’s she been smoking?
“Pleasure to meet you,” Niles tells her from behind me.
“Yes, thanks for having us,” Briony agrees.
Alia steps aside, inviting us in without saying anything. I guess her eyes and too-nice grin do it for her. The house opens up into a big-ass living room with tablecloths and champagne glasses.
I’m a little bummed when I see that nothing is levitated , or whatever that saying is. My fever must be making me think about weird crap like magic parlour tricks. Still, I’m sure if the sparklies are gonna attack us, they won’t be pulling bunnies out of hats or making tables float. I suppress a shiver thinking about how deadly that raid would be.
Speaking of raids , my mind is buzzing with the overwhelming number of Magicena and Vampyrs scattered everywhere. Couple that with the vamps taking the steps behind us, and I want to scream–or just start killing people.
The reeking smell of Vampyrs forces the three of us to stop hovering and cross the threshold, but it’s not like things are much better in here. I suddenly remember my queasy stomach and shooting pain in my ankle and lean against the nearest wall I can find. Briony steps beside me as Niles, brave as fucking ever, marches into the fray on his own.
“You okay?” she whispers so quietly, only my wolf senses can pick it out over the mingling people and the grand piano music in one corner of the room.
“Yeah.” I suck in a breath. “I just might hurl, is all.”
“Well! Look who’s here.”
Briony and I lay eyes on one of the shithead Vampyr Princes that tried to off me the other day. I stifle my nausea as best I can and glare up at him and the other moron he’s with. I can’t remember their names, and I don’t care to. Ever.
“Hi, Shitface,” I answer evenly.
The one in the super-expensive suit with slicked black hair laughs and looks at his brother, who’s not as well-dressed, but his hazel eyes are staring at Briony in a way that makes me want to pluck them out of their sockets and feed them to him.
“Lovely dress but still the same trampy coyote,” the hazel-eyed vamp jokes.
I cock an eyebrow. “Is that the best you got?” I’m quick to counter before I remember I’m the one in charge and I have to be nicer. Damn my luck. I’d much rather rip their heads off and throw them into the fountain out front.
My attention is derailed from picturing using these two dipshits’ heads like bowling balls when a scent I recognize enters the room.
“Leave them alone.”
The two Vamp Princes turn to look at Darren, who is on the fringes of our confrontation, arms folded and looking disapproving. He’s wearing a black suit with a white dress shirt and light gold tie. The suit get-up makes him look even taller than usual. His dark hair with lighter sections is styled to the side.
Fuck. I’m staring.
What the hell am I staring at? He’s a Vampyr !
I’d never, ever admit this to anyone, but…
He actually looks okay.
And I actually don’t hate that he’s here right now.
But that’s only because we have business to discuss. There’s no other reason for me not wanting to gag at the sight of him.
“Are you going to stop us, Monsieur Pierce?” the black-haired vamp asks, tilting his head to the side.
He looks so stupid, I want to punch him. Briony nudges me as covertly as possible, but one look at her tells me she knows what I’m thinking–and she’s thinking it’s not a good idea.
Briony is smarter than I am. I know she’s right. I’m the Kormo. I need to be civil with these losers. Can’t ruin the peace party–if that’s what this is–by killing off two Vampyr Princes, and weirdly enough, neither of them would be the one on my kill list.
“We were just leaving anyway,” Briony announces, taking my arm as if to pull me away from the three Vampyrs.
“Sure. Looking for the bar? A man to hump?” the black-haired guy drawls.
“Or a tree to piss on?” the brown-haired asshole chortles.
Darren scoffs and leaves with us, Briony now full-out dragging me as I bite my tongue off trying not to say anything.
“I’m so sorry about them,” Darren apologizes as we head deeper into this party that promises to be a real shitshow. “Oh. I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” he adds, holding out his hand to Briony. “I’m Darren Pierce–er, Crané.”
“Oh, I know you,” Briony responds, clearing her throat when she realizes she must have said too much. “You’re the new Vampyr Prince,” she adds as if to throw him off the track. “Briony Moon.”
They shake hands, Briony doing an amazing job disguising her awareness of vamp stink and the dampness we feel whenever we interact with them. Touching vamps will make you feel like you stepped right into a haunted house–hell, even being in their orbit will make you shit yourself.
Darren looks down at me. “I suppose I’m safe from your homicidal intentions tonight, Verity.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Don't push your luck,” I order.
He lifts his hands up. “I wouldn’t dare.”
More Magicena enter the room from the spiral staircase behind Darren. Briony and I get closer together without meaning to. It’s probably subconscious or whatever it is that Niles is always saying.
Darren turns to look at them. “I guess we’re all feeling–”
“Freaked?” Briony finishes for him.
“That’s a fucking–” I clear my throat and fold my arms, trying to forget about my nausea. “Understatement,” I finish lightly, deciding to try and tone down my Verity-ness for the night.
Darren smiles down at me. “You’re the only person I know who can use expletives and sophisticated vocabulary in one succinct phrase.”
“Go bother somebody else,” I snap as Briony bites her lower lip, probably trying not to laugh. “Was that succinct enough for you?”
Darren huffs in response but turns on his heel and walks away. Briony frowns back at me. “You got baited each and every time by that surprisingly nice, albeit sort-of-annoying, Vampyr Prince,” she points out.
I shrug. “Cats play with mice for hours before they eat ‘em.”
Halfway through the room, Darren turns to make eye contact with me. Fuck. I totally forgot that he could hear me.
The hell? Since when do I forget the advantages Vampyrs have over wolves? Over me? I need a fucking drink–but I don’t think alcohol would mix well with the flu medication I scarfed down before coming here.
Briony rolls her eyes. “That’s poetic, Veri.”
“I need to find Paxton and Megsie,” I remember, kicking myself for not thinking about that sooner. I mean, we’ve only been here for five minutes, but I’m sure people like Chiara would still finger-wag me for not doing it the second I arrived.
Briony and I are alerted to another Korama in the vicinity. Our sense of smell is jacked, but our ‘second sight,’ to quote Megsie, helps us ID the other factions without any effort on our part. These Korama abilities are on overdrive right now.
When we turn, our eyes fall on Jerald. We’re outnumbered and don’t have a lot of wiggle room if there’s an ambush. We’re all sensing it. Even super-happy Jerald is looking out of his element, arms folded over his gray suit.
“Hey,” Briony greets Jerald as he approaches us warily.
I see the way he looks at her: gray eyes too scared to look for too long, but at the same time, he can’t bring himself to stop. “Hi,” he breathes. “You–you both look great.”
I know he’s only lumping me in because he's afraid Briony will figure out how he feels, but I still give him a small smile. “I feel like I’m gonna die. But thanks,” I joke, but I’m telling the truth. Even with the meds, I feel like shit.
My phone vibrates in my purse. I yank it out while Jerald talks to Briony about the new song he’s writing.
Meet me upstairs when you can.
Darren and I agreed to talk tonight, using this stupid party as a cover. I guess it’s good for something, after all. But even if we do get the chance to talk, we gotta be careful about it. Koramas and vamps can overhear us, and Magicena can wipe us out for spreading rumours (true or not) about them.
I will once I do a few things. Keep your pants on.
I’m not about to tell him I have to meet with my Korma and Kormi–though something tells me that if I did, he wouldn’t do anything about it. Nothing murderous, that is.
It’s not hard to track down Paxton and Megsie. Their scents waft up the steps so I climb them as carefully as possible, wanting to find my superiors ASAP. I picked a great time to hurt my ankle and get the flu, but whatever. This is what I’m dealing with now.
At the top of the stairs, the second floor is even bigger than the room downstairs. Multiple rooms with large, fancy oak doors give way to more fear, more unknown threats. I’m brought up short when I remember that I’m alone, outnumbered, and helpless if I get ambushed.
At least I can make the most of this by finding a secluded meeting spot for Darren and me–though I doubt any nook or cranny in this place is truly safe . We might have to go outside.
“Verity.”
I turn. Megsie and Paxton emerge from the shadows at the other end of the hall. I walk over to them, hoping I’m doing a good job of disguising my limp, but when Megsie frowns at me, I know I’ve blown it.
“What happened to you?” she asks as I stop in front of them.
Can’t go into detail, even if it’s her who’s asking.
“I hurt it at work,” I hear myself lying again. I can barely feel my lips move.
I’m so sick of this crap. I wish I wasn’t spewing truthless shit to everyone I care about, everyone I respect. I know it’ll be worth it in the end–but that’s only if Darren and I actually figure out there really is a connection between the Magicena and the Vampyrs.
“You need to be on your guard tonight,” Paxton murmurs, running a hand over his silver tie. Paxton is happiest in work-out gear and sweats. It doesn’t surprise me that he’s tense in a monkey suit. Being uncomfortable in formal wear is the least of our worries, though.
“Have you heard anything?” I all but whisper, not knowing who could be listening behind the doors of the Magicena mansion.
“No.” Paxton glances at Megsie. “But everyone’s on edge. We’re heavily outnumbered.” He runs a hand through his wavy black hair, his watch gleaming in the hallway light.
“What do you want me to do?” I ask when Megsie stays strangely silent, even after Paxton looks at her. I wonder what she’s thinking but unless I’m spoken to, it’s none of my business. I’m new, only third-in-command.
They would’ve trusted Freddie.
But I guess they have more than one reason to keep things from me. And I’m no better.
“Keep an eye on the Vampyr Nobility,” Megsie commands, surprising me even though her voice is quieter than a pin drop. She moves a blond wave off her bare shoulder. Her strapless black dress and high black boots make her look more impressive than usual. “We want to ensure the safety of the pack.”
I nod. “Some of the Vamp Princes are already causing trouble,” I admit. “I’ll watch ‘em.”
Paxton sighs. “Megsie and I need to present a calm and collected front with the Queen and il Sovrano. If we’re seen sneaking around, it’ll look suspicious. If you see anything, please message Megsie.”
I nod once.
Megsie places her hand on my shoulder. “Are you sick?” she asks.
I clear my throat. “Just the flu,” I try to dismiss. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
Nothing I can’t handle.
That’s the biggest lie I’ve told so far.
We all spin around when a sound from behind me alerts us to a potential eavesdropper. A tall man with shoulder-length black hair and an expensive-as-hell white suit comes into view. I suck in an uneasy breath, but not much oxygen makes its way into my lungs. I know who this is even if I don't recognize him or his scent.
“Buonasera, Korama Nobility,” he greets us in a thick Italian accent. “I’m so glad you could attend my soirée.”
Paxton squares his shoulders in my peripheral vision. “Good evening,” he breathes, approaching the il Sovrano and shaking his hand. “Paxton Costas. We’ve spoken on the phone. It’s a pleasure to meet you in-person.”
Andre Calderone smiles widely and returns Paxton’s handshake. “Ah, the Korma. Welcome.” He glances behind Paxton at Megsie and me. Paxton turns easily to look at us, but his honey-brown eyes look wary.
Paxton wants to protect us but also doesn’t want to betray the vow of civility we three swore before coming here tonight. Just because I broke mine doesn’t mean Paxton and Megsie are that stupid.
“And you two ladies are… ?” the il Sovrano trails off like he wants us to fill in the blanks.
Paxton gives us the smallest nod I’ve ever seen. If I wasn’t staring straight at him, I wouldn’t have seen it. And I doubt il Sovrano saw it.
“My name is Meghan Silverman, Kormi of the Cold Moon Pack. A pleasure to meet you under such jovial circumstances,” Megsie says, holding out a hand to Andre, gold bracelets jingling as she moves. He takes it and kisses the top of it, bowing slightly to her.
“Ah yes, we’ve spoken on the telephone as well,” he remarks. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Signorina Meghan.”
They let go, and the Magicena King looks down at me.
Shit.
It’s my turn.
I don’t feel my legs. I’m suddenly so scared that I can’t even think straight. I forget what I was planning to say while Paxton and Megsie were making their introductions. I’m so freaked I’ll mess up that nothing works.
Andre laughs. “The strong silent type, hmm?” he questions. “I can’t say I’m the same. I talk too much–or so say my friends.”
That snaps me out of it. I’m fucking up this business transaction. I need to get my ass in gear!
“Sorry. I’m Verity Eadaoin. The Kormo.” I hold out my hand quickly, hoping I don’t smell of puke or fever sweat because right now, I feel the moisture dripping down my back.
He shakes my hand lightly. Thank God he doesn’t kiss it. “Pleased to meet you, Verity.”
Huh. Titles and respect for everyone else but me. I kind of expected this.
“I do hope you are making yourselves at home,” he continues to Megsie and Paxton, letting go of me. I quickly step away from him, almost bumping into Megsie in the process. I’m not used to being this clumsy, and I can’t just chalk it up to sickness.
“We are, indeed,” Megsie assures him. “We just wanted some private time to discuss a thank-you gift.”
“I still think a flower arrangement would be the best choice,” I find myself blurting out, remembering all the crazy flower crap downstairs.
Megsie nods at me grandly, surprise colouring her eyes. But it’s only there for a second before she turns to face Andre and Paxton, who are still beside one another. “We have you outnumbered, then, Paxton,” she smiles. “As my vote goes with Verity.”
Paxton folds his arms and scoffs, shaking his head with a small smile plastered on his face. “I guess you win some and you lose some.”
“Oh, no, no, no, no, no!” Andre laughs. “No need for presents. It is my honour to begin proceedings for peace. Please come down and mingle with the rest. I won’t accept any gifts other than your signatures.”
Signatures?
So we’re legit going to sign a fucking peace treaty?!
That crap was mentioned in the invitation, but Briony and I thought it was just a lie to get us here. Is the Magicena King really going to suggest this idea?
Paxton and Megsie don't look rattled at all as we follow Andre down the spiral staircase. When we get to the bottom, Paxton places his hand on my arm. “Have fun, Verity,” he tells me then mouths, ‘mingle and watch’ afterward. Il Sovrano is busy talking to Megsie about contracts and stuff–I guess he’s interested in the fact that she’s a lawyer–so he never saw the exchange between Paxton and me.
When Paxton and Megsie leave me and continue to chat with Andre, the colour drains from my face.
What if the treaty is just a fancy way to get the Cold Moon Pack in the same place at the same time–and then we all get slaughtered? It’s not like the sparklies won’t have ways to trap us in here, to make escape impossible.
I jump a mile when someone comes up on me from behind. I’m just about to slice off a head when I realize it’s Darren.
“The fuck? Are you following me?” I demand, a little too angrily.
Darren frowns. He’s holding a half-finished glass of champagne in his hand. “I saw you all from over there.” He gestures with his chin to a window seat where the Black Vampyr Prince is sitting. He waves at me. My flat expression causes him to shrug and continue drinking.
Okay. So I was wrong about Darren tailing me. I guess I’m so freaked out that I’m thinking anything is possible.
“Well, I gotta mingle,” I sigh loudly so I’m overheard. “So I guess I’m stuck with you.”
Darren smiles at a passing waiter and takes a champagne flute from the gold tray he’s holding. “If you’re going to be spending time with a Vampyr, I suppose you need to be inebriated.” He holds out the drink to me.
Mixing alcohol with flu meds will be the final nail in the coffin!
I take it from him and frown up at him.
“What?” he asks.
“I’m sick as fuck. I can’t drink this.” I place a hand on my hip. “Can’t you tell, dumbass?” I add, annoyed that I can’t even drink to take the edge off. I then remember our shared promise and clear my throat. “Sorry.”
He raises his eyebrows and takes a swig of his champagne. “Sickness makes you warmer, apparently,” he muses. “And, no. I didn’t notice. You look the same as ever.”
I feel kind of insulted by that. I mean, I actually put effort– lots of effort, for a sick person with a hurt ankle–into looking halfway decent tonight. And all he has to say is that I look the same as ever ? He’s seen me taking out the garbage after work (I flinch at the memory of that dark alley and my almost-rape) and full of mud and rainwater in the Heavenstream National Park. The fuck is his problem?
“Thanks so much,” I snap sourly at him.
Why am I getting so worked up? Who cares if he noticed that I look good (or as good as possible) or not?
God, I want to drink this champagne.
Darren’s frown deepens. “Did I offend you somehow?” he inquires over the intensifying piano music. Or maybe it’s just my headache making everything sound louder than it actually is.
He doesn’t even know why I’m mad!
Wait. I don’t even know why I’m mad.
Stupid fever.
“I’d have to give a shit to be offended,” I hurl up at him.
Darren rubs his temple with his free hand. “Alright. Well, I was going to do the gentlemanly thing and ask you to dance, but for safety reasons, I am rethinking that course of action.”
He was going to ask me to dance?
I’m about as good at dancing as I am at picking out clothes.
I’m thrown by his statement. I guess he’s just mingling like I was told to do. Nothing else to it. And if we can talk strategy while we do it, I guess dancing’s the only way to go.
“Fine, because there’s no way I can drink this,” I respond, placing the still full champagne glass on the side table near the stairs. The rose bouquet and crystal vase on top of it make my head and eyes hurt.
Is it just me, or is it hot as fuck in here?
I follow Darren to the other side of the mansion. There’s another enormous living room that’s clearly been set up for dancing and more sociable shit. Unlike the room I was in with Briony, filled with tables and roses and those appetizer things that made my stomach queasy, this one is pretty bare-bones. Music is playing on speakers somewhere instead of the grand piano get-up. A waitress with a tray full of dirty dishes and glasses passes us. Darren hands over his now-empty champagne flute and smiles at her in thanks. I’m kind of surprised he doesn’t suck the blood out of her on the way to the dancefloor, but I guess I’m also not surprised at the same time.
Darren finds an empty space on the fringes of the dancefloor and turns to face me. I swallow without meaning to, my sore throat flaring in response. I recognize the song that’s now playing– Lie to Me by Riell. Kind of appropriate, if you ask me.
I spy Jerald and Briony dancing nearby. Jerald looks cautiously thrilled out of his mind while Briony seems her usual bubbly self. I feel bad for him, but I’m too sick and pissed off by my right ankle to think straight. Compassion is something I have to try and work on more, but it’s even harder to do when I’m like this.
“Verity?”
I look back at Darren. He looks confused.
“Don’t get any stupid ideas,” I warn, nodding at him to initiate the dance.
Darren sighs. “None whatsoever,” he responds, holding out his hands like he’s waiting for me to make the first move. I guess because I recoil from the stench of vamp whenever I’m around him, it makes sense that he’s wanting me to go first.
I finally take his hands in mine.
It’s weird. Touching a Vampyr should repulse me. The dampness clawing at my insides whenever I fight one or even get close to one should send me reeling or killing now.
Vampyrs are gross. Evil.
But Darren’s hands are warm, blood circulating through his veins, face and features all normal–almost human .
My heart is racing like I’m running a fucking marathon. It’s also pounding in my ears like I’m at a metal concert. I try to ignore all of it. I’m super sick. I must be on my last legs. No other explanation for all this crap.
Darren brings me closer. “I did some reading,” he practically mouths to me as I hesitantly place my hand on his shoulder. He’s way too tall for me to dance with properly, even in heels. I fucking hate the height difference between us, but I guess that’s not his fault. It just makes me more of a target if he suddenly decides to kill me. Vamps always go after the sick and the lame.
Thankful for the business talk, I look up at him as he places his arm around my waist. “And?” I press.
Darren leans closer to me so there’s less chance of us being overheard. His breath doesn’t even smell like blood. Human.
“There are some special herbs that can blanket conversation,” he tells me as we begin to sway to the music. I think he’s trying to waltz with me, but I suck at dancing, so he’ll be lucky if he gets out of this with all his toenails intact. “Sage is one of them. That’s what I smelled when I was in her chambers.”
I hold my breath, getting dizzy way too fast. I stumble. Darren grabs me, his grip tightening on my waist.
My first instinct is to fight back.
He’s trying to kill me!
He’s a Vampyr!
“Verity?” he asks instead of biting into my jugular.
I clear the fog from my brain as best I can. “What?” I muster weakly.
Darren’s hazel eyes soften. “Maybe you shouldn't have come tonight. Stayed in bed,” he adds when I frown up at him.
“I can’t. I’m the Kormo,” I dismiss. “And thanks.”
He raises his eyebrows in shock. “Did you just thank me for something, Verity?” he gasps. “Or am I already drunk?”
“Ha, ha. Funny man,” I counter gruffly–but I am thankful he caught me instead of letting me fall flat on my face, like I deserve.
For some weird reason, it’s hard to remember what we were just talking about. Maybe it’s the flu meds slowly wearing off. Maybe it’s because I’m on my toes, scared as fuck that someone’s gonna come up on me from behind and kill me before I can blink. Or maybe it’s because my pack is scattered around this big-ass house and I won’t be able to find them if shit hits the fan.
I scrunch my brows together and look up at him, sifting through my mental fog enough to remember at least one word from our conversation before I almost face-planted. “So… Sage?”
I hope he takes the hint and tells me the rest of the story, because I’m barely alive enough to move to the music with him, let alone use more than one-word sentences.
Darren nods once, and we slowly resume this weird swaying thing we’re doing. “Yes. I thought I recognized the scent”–he lifts his arm up and twirls me like I’m some teensy ballerina and not a Korama who could slice his head off–“but I couldn’t put my finger on it until I did my research.”
It’s like hornets have started to swarm around in my stomach. It’s not nausea–it’s something else. And I gotta say, I don’t like it. I push it down by focusing on what Darren said about research.
Of course some university goody-two-shoes would jump at any chance to do research. Whatever. For once, I’m interested in hitting the books. If it means we can figure out if the Vampyrs and Magicena are going to double-cross the Koramas–
“How did you find all this out?” I press. “Books? The Internet?”
Darren looks hesitant all of a sudden. “A friend,” he responds, and then adds quickly before I can even open my mouth to say it myself, “and yes, I have some.”
I narrow my eyes up at him. “Fine. What else did your friend have to say?”
“He said nothing. He loaned me a book about Magicena culture.”
“Ugh.” I roll my eyes. “Read it so I don’t have to.” Again, I wouldn’t mind sitting down and poring over books if it meant saving the lives of those I care about, but I don’t want him to know that.
Darren stifles an eye roll but twirls me again. I hate to say it, but it wasn’t so bad the second time. I almost puke all over again when I realize the weird reaction I had to us dancing before was butterflies.
Fucking butterflies !
Even though I’m the opposite of what you’d call a lady , it’s kind of nice that Darren actually treats me like one. I guess that means I owe him the same in return: if he humanizes me, I have to humanize him.
The song changes to one I don’t recognize (big surprise–I’m not up on current trends). It’s not a slower song, so we stop moving without really realizing it.
“Is that all you found out?” I ask, hoping I don’t sound too bitchy. I just want to make sure I have all the information.
“Yes,” Darren answers quietly as some Vampyrs dance past us, clearly more worried about groping than listening in on our conversation. “I was hoping we could–”
“Catch the Queen and il Sovrano in a meeting?” I guess.
He seems surprised by me finishing his sentence–and he’s not the only one–but he nods slightly. “Exactly,” he agrees.
Before I can say anything else, the two jackasses from before push past us. The one in the expensive suit almost knocks me over, but I somehow stay upright. The other one stops next to Darren, slinging an arm around the newbie Vamp Prince’s shoulders.
With my fever and sore ankle, I’m shocked I didn’t take a header because of that douchebag. It’s only then that I realize Darren and I are holding hands after finishing our dance.
Just as I yank my hands away, the vamp closest to me grabs my right wrist, yanks it toward his mouth, and sinks his fangs into it. I cry out in surprise and in pain–but I’m quick to shoot a punch at his stomach with my free hand.
The fuckface falls backward as Darren puts an arm in front of me. He was half a second too late in stopping that dickhead.
“Why did you–” Darren begins as the biting vamp takes hold of my wrist and shoves it toward Darren’s face.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what they’re trying to do. I may be a lot of things, but I will not be bait for a vamp pissing contest.