Thirty
S éra’s closet was larger than the one I’d had at home.
Home . No, that place wasn’t my home any longer. Hadn’t ever been one, really, not since I was a child, since Father was still around.
An anxiety had settled itself into my chest, wrapping its spindly fingers around my heart. It squeezed when it wanted to, reminding me of what I’d done, at seemingly random moments, pulling my attention away from Séra’s soft hands and kind words.
“Were you ever going to tell me?”
Séra smiled a harmless smile as she opened the wardrobe doors. “Eventually. Probably.”
“How…?”
“How am I here ? Two people in one?”
My silence spurred her on.
“Because he asked me to. ”
Vince asked her to become my maid.
He had a set of eyes on me for months now. Someone who observed, who often never spoke, who had access to every part of the house. She had made me feel comfortable, like I had someone to talk to. She knew how I butt heads with Mother, how I snuck out, where I went.
And then Sinclair—our meeting as though it were an accident, a stranger’s suggestion to return to the party. To find the vampires.
Was anything as it seemed?
“He told me your story, about your brother, and I wanted to help.”
I said nothing, feeling the weight of it, wondering what else there was for me to uncover. She continued on, reaching for dresses, rifling through, pulling a few and laying them out. Dresses of every color, fabric, and length stuffed the closet full. What splendor she’d really had this whole time, while she was playing at being a maid.
“When he came back, really, I wanted to kill him,” she said so casually, and I wasn’t sure if she meant the words literally or not. “He’s quite terrible. And Lord Highsmith —ugh.”
“Is he still there?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“Highsmith?” She popped her head out for a moment.
I nodded.
She rolled her eyes. “Yes. He and Lucas are figuring out some sort of plan. Your mother is quite emotional, but Lucas is refusing to let her call anyone.”
No wonder the cops hadn’t shown up.
“Does he know— ”
“He doesn’t know where you are,” she said, a bit softer, giving me a placating smile. It warmed her entire face, and I suddenly wanted to hug her, to feel someone other than Vince against me. A friend.
She darted back into the closet, continuing her search. “I’m thinking something daring tonight. A statement piece.”
Daring .
Ten minutes later, she had me dressed in a blood-red gown, shorter than anything I’d worn before. It barely covered me, its beaded trim falling just below my behind, the black beading brushing against the sensitive skin of my thighs. Little more than a slip. It was silky and smooth and cool to the touch, and exposed the near entirety of my back, criss-crossed with more beads. Mother would have fallen over if she ever saw me dressed like this. I was truly the harlot she feared—one wrong move, and I’d expose my breasts through the fabric at my sides.
But I didn’t feel exposed. Inspecting myself in the mirror, I peeked over my shoulder at the way the dress fell across my back, how it fluttered out when I turned, how it glinted in the dim electric lights of Séra’s room.
Flora would love it. And in that moment I missed her. I hadn’t called her—so caught up in everything, I hadn’t told her I was alright.
She was the one part of my old life—if I could call it that—that I didn’t want to leave behind. My dearest friend, my sister . She would want to be here.
I ran my hand over the beading on my stomach.
“You should wear that every day,” Séra said, watching from the vanity, a hand on her hip. “I’ve never worn it. You can have it. ”
Our eyes met in the mirror. “I love it.”
She patted the vanity. “You need some rouge. You’re gorgeous as is, of course,” she said, while I sat. Running her fingers through my hair, still messy from my evening with Vince, she brushed the waves out and applied gels and a golden headband that sat just across my forehead, like a crown.
As she worked, her brow wrinkled in concentration, I noticed red markings on my neck—faint, barely there, almost like little bruises. The light purple from Lucas’ hand, but the red love bites from Vince, like he’d tried to cover up the brutality with his tongue, his sharp teeth. To claim my pain as his own pleasure.
The dress displayed the markings for all to see, and I had the thought that it was as Vince intended.
“I hope you won’t be mad,” Séra said, reaching into a little jewelry box. She then pulled out a set of earrings, glimmering in the light, and I laughed, feeling my anxieties lift a little.
“You kept them.” The set I’d seen her try on in my room, a night that felt like eons ago.
“I thought maybe you’d want them.” She smiled.
“I meant what I said—you can have them. I think they’ll suit you better, anyway.”
She tucked them away, rooting through the box. “I have plenty to choose from. More in the wardrobe.”
“I’m done up enough as it is,” I said, turning my head to see her handiwork in the mirror. She’d applied rouge to my cheeks, a ruby red to my lips. Pitch-black lined my eyes, with little wings that seemed like knives, nearly mingling with my hair. She’d taken a pencil to my brows. I looked part seductress, part pouty actress, like the ones in the moving pictures. “Why could you not have done my makeup like this at the house?”
She gave me a look. “Because then I would’ve been fired.”
The faint sound of a trumpet, beginning a jazzy solo, rang through the house, heralding the guests who must’ve been spilling into the house, parking their expensive cars along the drive, ready for a night they would forget by morning. We were so far into the house, it was difficult to hear, but she grinned at me through the mirror, her teeth more elongated than I remembered: sharp as knives, glinting pearly white.
“It begins.”
It was not long before Séra was supplying me with glass upon glass of gin, throwing them back herself, but holding her own like they were water. We’d descended the stairs as the foyer was filling with people, the scents of their perfumes and smoke, the sounds of their shouting voices and laughter permeating the massive ballroom. The servers were stationed around the room, flutes of champagne at the ready.
Sinclair joined us for a moment, offering us both a cigarette, before placing a kiss on Séra’s forehead and retreating back upstairs.
I knew where he was likely going.
That damned room, where I’d found him; that cavern of indulgence and blood and consummation. Writhing bodies, mimicking the ones dancing down in the ballroom, the men and women with carefree masks adorned, drinking their worries away, while inhuman beings drank from each other, perhaps even from unwilling victims, right above. Shameless feasting.
“We should go with him,” I said, sipping on my fourth drink of the evening.
I wanted to see it again, and maybe it was perverse, but I wanted to watch. Women and men biting each other, puncturing a spot on the neck where blood flowed freely, thick and red and spurting, and tongues lapping it up like it was the ichor of the gods, a promise of immortality and strength and vigor.
Séra looped her arm with mine, her skin cool, her hip bumping mine. “It’s more entertaining down here,” she said, her fingers lifting the glass again to my lips, watching until I swallowed more of the heady liquid before she was satisfied.
“People make fools of themselves in the most entertaining way, if you stay long enough to watch.” She winked.
I couldn’t feel the burn of the drink any longer. My belly was warm, my muscles languid, though my mind was yet sharp.
“Where is he?” I wondered aloud, almost shouting over the din, the crowd becoming increasingly more packed, all of us bumping into each other’s shoulders. Séra moved with grace, avoiding every other body in the room. I was clumsy in my half-drunk human state. Vince—I hadn’t seen him since the afternoon.
Men ogled at us as we passed, not even hiding their staring, their gazes traveling up our thighs—no stockings—to the short hems of our skirts, hoping that they’d get a glimpse of what was underneath. To the way the fabric hugged our chests. Women staring, perhaps in jealousy, in envy. One woman caught my eye and winked her long lashes, pulling a blush to my cheeks .
“He must be busy.” Séra pulled me toward the dance floor. “People call in the evenings,” she revealed. “He’ll show up, don’t worry.”
He had that first night. It was lucky, the lull in his calls, then; when he came out to observe the floor and his eyes landed on me. I’d thought I’d seen a ghost.
We became part of the throng, our feet hardly touching the floor as we joined the dance floor. The room spun, the gin clouding my head. I felt light, almost like my feet weren’t touching the ground, like I was floating about the room.
A few stray hands found my hips, my arms, and I only laughed, every sensation electrified as the alcohol settled in.
I’d lost my glass and Séra was holding my hand while we threw ourselves into the music. We found the band amidst the crowd, a large string bass, a piano, a trumpet, a sax. The bass player grinned when we made eye contact, and I knew then he lived for these parties, as much as everyone else in the crowd. He fed off the energy, creating a beat for revelers to move to, and took in their dancing like it was worship to his music.
Séra moved like a trained dancer, like the professionals hired to entertain at these things. Her movements were lithe, her hips swinging and shimmying like a snake moves in the grass. I’d never seen her so animated. It was infectious.
I probably looked ridiculous, but I didn’t care, letting the bass player and his band move my limbs through their music. Laughter spilled from me, echoing that of the crowd. The illicit alcohol added a haze to everything, and I felt like I was in a dream, dancing amongst fairies, my feet tireless, my will to go on impenetrable .
Hands found my waist, and I nearly spun to shake them off, but the fingers dug in and a face nuzzled into my neck.
“I am sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, his voice low, only for me to hear.
I reached up to wind my hand into the hair at his neck, my back pressed to his front. His hands doing nothing to stop the spread of heat to my core, my thighs.
“Then you must dance with me now,” I said, turning and looping my arms around his neck.
His eyes darkened as they took in the front of my dress, the way the fabric fell between my legs, parting at my hips, the beading that caressed my curves. He darkened. “I’m inclined to do something else,” he said, so low, his timbre sending shivers down my thighs.
Laughing, I moved my hips, letting the music take me once more. He watched hungrily, and though he didn’t dance, the odd one out in the crowd, no one seemed to notice, parting around us like we were a fixture in the room and not just another couple to bump into.
“Séra picked it out!” I shouted, swaying and letting my skirts whirl around me.
He pulled me closer, halting my movements. His lips found mine, his kiss harsh, with an intensity that made me melt. He moved against me, his hands winding around my waist so that I couldn’t back away. His tongue found mine, forcing entry into my mouth, and though we were amidst a crowd, I couldn’t stop.
I gasped as he nipped at my lip. My fingers played with the curls around his ears, with the collar of his shirt .
I wanted to undress him here, now, so everyone else could see how beautiful he was. So that they could see he was mine.
When he pulled away, his eyes fell to my neck, his gaze tangible. He smirked, then set me down. “I have something to attend to, but I’ll find you again.”
And with one last kiss on my lips, he left me again, his eyes lingering for longer than was probably wise.
Promise me .
“I told you!” Séra said, next to me once more. “I told you he’d love it!”
I was lightheaded, but I felt freer than I’d ever had. I had no thoughts, no worries, other than the fun that was to be had before me.
Screw Lucas, screw Lord Highsmith. They couldn’t keep me from drinking and dancing and kissing who I wanted and taking men into my bed, taking Vince into my bed, and I felt so unstoppable, like I could do anything. I shrugged off years of control as I danced. My breaths came easier, my limbs moving freely, and if I were truly trapped in a fairy world, forced to dance forever, I did not think I’d care.
Séra was the first to stop. Sweat gleamed along her hairline, but it only made her shimmer. She grabbed my arm, pulling me out of the dancing crowd in search of a drink. It was not long before we found flutes of champagne and threw them back.
My thoughts moved in a barely coherent line, one after the other: thirst, hunger, Vince , vampires. Blood, champagne, sex , Lucas— no. My head was spinning. I might’ve toppled over, if not for Séra’s steadying hand .
She laughed at my stumble, leading me to a spot to lean against the wall. Her movements preternaturally lithe. Enviably assured.
“Perhaps a rest?” She grinned, leaning with me.
And she had been right. It was entertaining to watch the other people around us, to hear an argument over a man’s wandering eyes, his girl indignant at his lack of attention on her . The way people looked at each other, men and women, some women’s eyes lingering on female bodies, swells of breasts and the curves of hips. The licking of lips, imaginations running wild. The sharing of pipes and cigarettes, of glasses of gin; the sharing of dreams and desires and secrets. A woman whispering into a man’s ear, her hand covering her mouth as though to hide the words in the noisy room. The red blooming on his cheeks, the darkening of his eyes, his hands finding her hips. Her delighted cackle as his lips found her neck. Groups of girls sticking together, until they were weeded off, one by one, by drunken suitors. Young boys, barely out of their teens, gazing with wide eyes, star-struck almost, at the scenes before them.
Above it all, the chandelier sparkled, the ribbons having been forgone that night, but they weren’t needed. Every bit of the room shone, waxed to a sparkle, like diamonds and crystals were set into the gilt walls. The walls were plastered with gold leaf, the marble columns a luminous white with black veins. Gleaming drapes hung from the ceiling, pulled back from the large floor-to-ceiling, wrought iron windows, the fixtures a remnant of the building’s original purpose. The devils still writhed on the ceiling, almost seemingly having moved from the last time I gazed at them .
I pressed a hand to my eyes. “I’m going to go find some water,” I told Séra.
“One can stay hydrated well enough on champagne,” she grinned, but waved me on.
I teetered on my heels, stepping through the crowd, blinking to clear my eyes. Though I was unsteady, I knew I wouldn’t fall, an arrogant confidence keeping me upright. Why wear heels to these things, anyway?
I found a server some ways away, standing at attention near the stairs. He only glanced at me briefly while I reached for his tray, short crystalline glasses with a clear liquid. I grabbed one and took a sip, before my nose scrunched at the bitter taste. Most definitely not water.
A hand came from nowhere and took the glass from me. “Here,” a male voice said, offering me a different glass.
Dixon, my savior, my sentinel, frowned at me as I drank the water he offered, giggling at my mistake. He was missing his jacket, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, but his hair was still combed, his gray eyes searching my face.
It was the first time I’d seen him since I’d left home, but it hardly registered in my mind.
“What are you doing here?” he said, and shook his head, like he was cursing himself.
“What are you doing here?” I slurred, finishing off the water. It tasted starkly of nothing, a confusing sensation after the sting of gin and God knew what else.
“Making sure you don’t get hurt,” he said through gritted teeth. “Is this where you’ve been this whole time? ”
He took the glass from me and set it on the tray of a passing server who promptly disappeared.
“Upstairs, mostly.” In bed. I laughed to myself.
“I should have known.” He shook his head again. “Your family is furious.”
“What’s new?”
“Are you okay?” he asked, his firm hands landing on my shoulder and keeping me steady. He looked me in the eye, trying to find some evidence of hurt, of mistreatment.
I laughed again, everything funny. “I’m fine! I just had to get away, that’s all.”
Dixon’s serious face never wavered. “Flora told me—about your brother and the betrothal. Helena, I’m sure we can talk some reason into your family—”
I was finally feeling good, and righteous boring Dixon had to bring it all up again. “I don’t want to talk about it.” I tried to push past him and find Séra again.
His grip on my shoulders tightened, just enough to keep me in place. “She’s been worried about you. We’ve been worried about you.”
“I’m fine .”
“When you didn’t reach out to her, she called me right away. Said I had to find you.”
“I’m here, and I’m well,” I said. “Tell her I’m okay.”
“ Are you okay?” he asked again. “Do you know where you are?”
“For Christ’s sake, Dixon, I’m not a victim of kidnapping.” This conversation was sobering me up, more than I wanted. “I left on my own. ”
A pause; he seemed reluctant to say the words. “I know you have a history with Vince.”
“Flora told you?”
“But he’s not the man you knew,” he continued.
I tried to push past him again. It was nonsense. He worried too much. And what did he know?
“He’s dangerous , Helena.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, you’ve said this before, and yet here I am.”
“No, I mean it. You don’t know what he does, who he is.”
“And are you going to tell me?” I asked, hands on my hips. Staring Dixon down, though he was taller than me by a good few inches. His eyes flickered, but his mouth was pressed into a straight line, and he didn’t say anything.
“That’s what I thought.” I scowled.
“Even if you know the truth, you’re not safe.”
“What, are you in on it or something? I know what you do, and Flora is perfectly safe, is she not? It can’t be much worse.”
Dixon laughed darkly under his breath. “We are not even remotely the same.”
“Unless you aim to tell me what’s so bad, I’m leaving. Have fun with the party—”
He grabbed my arm again, a groan of frustration bursting from me.
Dixon was not a bad man. He’d always watched out for Flora and me, and though he was her lover, I had begun to see him as a protector, a good one out of the bunch. He’d always pulled us from trouble, cooling heads and keeping us from harm.
And normally, he was right .
But he had to be mistaken this time.
“Helena.” He said my name with such gravity that my ears tuned only to him. His voice lowered. “I don’t know how much you’ve been told, what you’ve seen, but you’re not safe here. The people here… they’re not like you—”
“What, like vampires?” The words slipped from my lips before I could stop them. Damn whoever was overhearing our conversation.
Dixon’s eyes widened, then hardened, all in a second.
“Wait—” I nearly laughed again at the ridiculousness of it all. “Are you a vampire?”
His silence was damning.
“You are .” The effects of the liquor left me. Suddenly, I was totally sober, the room righting itself, my mind clear.
I should have known. Everyone around me was apparently a supernatural creature now.
“Lower your voice,” he hissed. “This is not something you can just say in front of people—”
“Does Flora know?”
“No.” His eyes flashed. “And if you breathe a word of it to her—”
“Don’t you dare, Lloyd Dixon, threaten to keep me from Flora.” I scoffed, wrenching his hands from my shoulders. “You don’t seem so concerned about your own criminal enterprise and how it affects her. Why don’t you mind your own business?”
“ Because this is my business.”
A shrill scream from two feet away interrupted our conversation, and suddenly a feminine pair of arms were around me, the sweet scent of rosy perfume pervading the air around us.
Her hug was like coming home.
She wept immediately, crooning my name. A happy sob wrenched itself free from my own throat, and I threw my arms around her slim waist.
“Oh my God, Helena, where have you been?” Flora blubbered.
Something in my chest broke. My vision grew blurry.
She cried tipsy tears, drops landing on my skin, right where Dixon’s hand had been. “I thought you were gone!” she cried, holding me to her so tightly I almost couldn’t breathe. “I thought we’d hear that you were being held for ransom!”
“I’m okay,” I repeated for the third time that evening, breathing in the scent of my friend.
“I’m so glad you’re safe,” she breathed, pulling away to get a look at me. She wiped under her red eyes, careful not to smear her makeup. “I’m such a baby,” she said.
“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything,” I told her, holding her hands. “I should’ve reached out. Honestly, the last few days have been a blur.”
Flora sniffled. “I understand. And I understand why you did it. We came here tonight because I thought—I thought if anyone knew what had happened, it must be Vince. But I see we didn’t even need to get that far and hunt him down.”
I nodded, squeezing her fingers. “I’m okay.”
She huffed out a laugh and pulled me into her chest again, her blonde hair tickling my cheek as she hugged me.
“I’ll come every night, if I can,” she murmured. “And you must call me if you need me.”
I promised I would, holding her tight .
Dixon caught my eye over her shoulder, sober and solemn, his arms crossed. He didn’t have to say it, didn’t have to remind me never to let Flora know of this world of night we’d found ourselves in. I realized then he was right, as he always was—these creatures would drain her before their lips even touched a vein.
I hugged her tighter before pulling away and smiling. “I have someone to introduce you to.”
Flora laughed and was happy to oblige.
When I awoke, Vince lay beside me, naked under the sheets.
The house was silent, the sun streaming through the windows at a midday peak. I slept the morning away again. I didn’t think I’d fallen asleep until the sun started peeking over the horizon that early morning, until birds began chirping in the trees, heralding another new day.
I stretched my arms above my head, the sheets falling to my waist, trying to relieve the soreness of my muscles.
Vince hardly stirred, only turning his head on the plush pillow. He was beautiful, an angelic quality to the way his hair fell on the pillow, the serene relaxation of his face, his sharp teeth hidden behind those pink lips. I touched him, feeling the cool skin of his cheek, the stubble there, the fullness of his lip. I realized he was paler than he’d been as Adam, maybe just barely, almost imperceptibly. But the muscles of his shoulders and chest were leaner, stronger, more defined. He had an energy, a vigor, he hadn’t had before .
Before.
It was as though my life was divided into two: Before and After .
I had to watch for many moments before I saw his chest rise and sink, hardly an inch. If I felt his neck, I knew his pulse would be faint, slow as though he were on the brink of death.
I stood out of bed, grabbing his discarded robe to cover me from the chill of the morning. As I slipped my arms through the sleeves, I saw on the tea table a range of morning papers, a steaming teapot, and a small dish of toast, butter, and jelly. A servant had come in while we slumbered.
My stomach growled. I hadn’t eaten at all last night—only drank, and then danced it all away.
I sat upon the couch, pulling my feet up, and relaxed into a pillow as I sipped on the tea. And I hardly read the papers, the politics all too confusing for me, but this morning, I picked up the neighborhood daily, like some greater force was pushing me to read it, controlling my movements.
The teacup nearly slipped from my fingers when I read: “ Quintrell daughter’s disappearance .” My eyes skimmed the page, jumping over words. I knew this was Lucas, knew he was trying to control the story. Because of course my absence was noticed, or if it wasn’t yet, he wanted to get a handle on the news before people began to realize I was missing.
Lucas Quintrell, head of the Quintrell Company, happily writes that his sister, the inimitable Helena Quintrell, is away from town, caring for an aunt, before she spends some time taking a tour of the Continent. He and their mother thank all neighbors for their concern and well-wishes.
The paper went on to say more about crimes reported, announcements of birth, of death .
I crumpled the paper in my fist, my teeth grinding. I should’ve expected it.
Of course they’d rather lie and save face—they had no idea where I was, but heaven forbid word got out that I truly was missing. That he had no idea where I was. What would society think of us then? It stung, realizing no one was that concerned—if they were, they would’ve sent the police looking by now, would’ve told everyone to keep an eye out for me.
It was all Lucas.
I stood and threw the papers into the fire.