Chapter 14
Dahlia
I’ll give the magicians their credit, they don’t half know how to turn a room around.
We all exited the throne room to have drinks and canapés in a side hall.
But within an hour, they’d done that magical fuckery with their hands, ribbons of magic flowing from the walls, and swoosh!
the room was completely different. I forced Penelope to stand and watch as I was fascinated.
She whined until I promised I’d fuck her into oblivion one more time after the wedding was over.
The room is now dressed with chandeliers that look like cresting waves, made of blue and white frothing crystals.
Tables line the perimeter with a huge black-and-white chequered dance floor in the middle.
On the dais where the thrones usually sit is a long table for the royals and Stirling.
Near the huge doors, Remy fiddles with a set of large boxes that pump out music.
Every guest in here is smiling and laughing and cheerful. I am none of those things.
Daria has done her best, and her security is in here.
They were far more discreet in the ceremony because no one was moving.
But in here, you can tell who they are because they’re the only magicians not bopping their heads in time to the music.
On the one hand, it’s reassuring. But on the other, if I were the attacker, I’d know exactly who to avoid.
All afternoon my skin has crawled like we’re being watched. That message I plucked from the dead woman’s mouth plays over and over in my mind.
My shoulders ache with tension. The wedding is nearly over and there’s been no attack, but it’s coming. If the message wasn’t warning enough, I can taste the threat in the air. Electric, thick, grimy. It crawls over my skin, an ever-present pressure, forcing me to stay alert.
“Anything?” Red says, sidling up to me. Because Octavia has spent much of her time with Queen Calandra and her council, Red has popped in and out, working with Daria and her team to offer support and hunter tactics.
I shake my head.
“Octavia said you had a wild idea about who it was.”
I do. It’s ridiculous given the levels of security. “I’ve got no proof,” I say.
“Don’t you? Octavia said you saw the marks on the girl’s wrist.”
I grit my teeth and drag her to the edge of the room, my eyes never leaving Penelope, who swings and twirls her sister around.
“The corpse had marks like someone had tried to bite her.”
“Someone?” Red says.
My lips press together as if I can squeeze the idea away. “A vampire.”
“In New Imperium?” she asks, checking over her shoulder to make sure we’re not overheard.
“Yeah.”
“That’s not good. Shouldn’t the fang marks have been obvious?”
“Not sure. It could be a failed transition. Or a vampire that was tortured and had their fangs recently removed. Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Have you told Calandra or Daria?”
“Daria knows. All her guards are carrying stakes.”
“Good move on the weapons. How the hell did another vampire get into the city? I thought the tunnels were mostly sealed off, and the ones we came through guarded or deserted. I didn’t think anyone really knew of them,” Red says, pulling a hand over her face.
“The real question is, if they are in the city, how do we stop them getting into the palace before Penelope is injured or Octavia’s peace talks are ruined?”
Red leaves her expression stiff as she returns to Octavia. They clearly discuss what I said, because neither of them relax after that.
If it is a vampire at fault, then Octavia will be blamed, and that is the last thing she needs. It will destroy the progress we’ve made.
The longer the day wears on, the more agitated I become. Though both Red and Octavia continuously scan the doors, windows and any movement.
Dinner passes without a murmur. It’s the most lavish meal I’ve ever seen served. Calandra even serves us goblets of blood herself. The most visible indication of peace to her nobles that I’ve seen yet.
I can’t deny I’m famished. The hours and hours of heightened awareness, of constantly being alert is gruelling, even for a vampire. But this job is more than just body guarding. I want to protect Penelope. I need to. Something is coming and I have to be prepared.
I guzzle down the offering and then take a second helping of blood as the tables are emptied and the music ratchets up.
The beat kicks out, bodies move in synchrony as magicians, lords and even the occasional vampire prance around the dance floor.
Gabriel and Xavier have their hands up, wiggling and jumping about with a couple of Morrigan’s friends; Jacob, I think one of them was called and Mal, was it? I forget, but they’re chatting and drinking as they boogie together.
Everyone seems happy.
And yet my skin itches.
When I can’t stand it any longer, I call out. “Red!” I have to shout it a couple of times over the crashing beats and trilling melodies. But I’m able to wave her over. She darts off the dance floor, leaving Remy and Bella smooching.
“Where’s my sister?” I ask.
She points to the other side of the room where Octavia is talking with Quinn and Scarlett. It takes a couple of minutes, but I catch Octavia’s eye. She mumbles something to Scarlett and heads over.
“Everything okay?” she says.
I shake my head and draw them both close. “I can’t put my finger on it, but I want to walk the palace. It makes no sense. Everything pointed towards an attack today, right?”
Red and Octavia both nod.
“Will you keep an eye on Penelope? I won’t be long, I just want to check a few of the weak spots, entrances and the like.”
“Of course,” Octavia says.
I break away, my eyes always darting back to Penelope. She catches me leaving and a scowl falls over her expression. She grabs the nearest woman and begins gyrating her backside against the woman’s groin.
A muscle ticks in my jaw. Doesn’t she realise I’m literally doing my duty to protect her? I’m about to march over then and haul her off when a shadow rushes through my periphery.
I freeze.
My spine tingles.
It’s them.
I know it.
I spin around, frantically searching the room. But there are so many magicians in here, the throne room is so ram packed with people that I can’t tell where they went.
A sweeping movement. This time I just catch it. A hulking shadow. The same stature as the figure I saw in the nightclub.
It’s definitely them. “Got you, motherfucker.”
I lurch to the left, pushing and shoving my way through the throng of magicians to the edge of the room.
But I’m too slow.
By the time I reach the door, the shadow has vanished.
“Fuck,” I bellow and punch the wall. My fist goes through the plaster. “Shit.” I yank my hand out, hoping no one notices and head back to protect Penelope when I stop. There’s a droplet on the ground. I kneel, swipe it up with my finger and sniff. Metallic. I lick it.
Definitely blood. Not just any blood, vampire blood.
Static rushes through my body, adrenaline flaring to life. I scan the floor, trying to dodge around everyone’s feet. It’s not just one droplet.
There’s a path of them dotted every foot or so. Some of them are smudged and smeared where feet carelessly tread on them.
“Shit.”
In an instant, I’m up and running, desperate to find Octavia and signal the alarm. I push my pace right to the edge of vampire speed; I don’t want to alarm the guests by displaying overt signs of vampirism, but there’s no fucking time. I need to get to Penelope.
Octavia and Red stand just past the last magician in my path, and I jolt to a halt next to them. Thank the Mother of Blood they are still on alert, their eyes focused on Penelope and Morrigan.
“What is it?” Octavia says. Her expression is calm, but I can tell from the bite in her tone that she recognises my panic.
“Where is she?”
Octavia points to Penelope still dancing with her sister.
“Sound the alarm. He’s here.”
Red springs into action. “I’ll find Daria.” She vanishes nearly as fast as I arrived.
My skin prickles. The music speeds up, a thudding beat ringing through the room.
“Where is he?” Octavia says, her tone insistent.
I scan the room. Left. Right. Left. The door. The windows. Fuck. Where the hell did he go?
“Dahlia?”
I scan again. Faster. My eyes darting this way. That. FUCK. Where did he go?
“Dahlia?” Octavia barks.
I search faster. Finally. Got you. “There,” I say, pointing at the shadow moving way too fast to be a magician. My body feels like lead as I track his movement and realise what he’s doing: circling Penelope and Morrigan.
“Mother of Blood,” I breathe.
“Go!” Octavia says, and we split up, moving through the crowds towards Penelope. I shouldn’t have fucking left her. I never should have left her side, even to investigate. Gods dammit.
I ball my fists as I push and shove my way through the throngs of people. Always tracking the shadow. But as fast as I move through the crowd, he moves faster.
I’m not going to reach him.
And the deeper I push onto the dance floor, the further away Penelope seems to be. I want to shout and scream at her to get over here, but if I do, I’ll alert the attacker. Or worse, set the crowds into a panic.
I’m almost there. Octavia too. She advances from the other side of Morrigan and Penelope.
But we’re too late.
The music cuts out violently. A roar rents the air. The frivolity of the dance floor grinds to a halt.
There’s one breathless moment of silence. A drawn breath held in the bellies of five hundred magicians. And then someone screams.
The shadow careens to a halt. His head is covered with a hood.
Time slows.
I bellow at Penelope to run. But she’s frozen in place. She’s not going to escape in time.
Something glints and I realise where the source of the blood I scented came from. A giant blade hangs from his hand, covered in the kind of coagulating rouge only discernible as one thing.
He lunges.
I leap.
The pair of us fly through the air towards her. The only thing that floats through my mind is regret.
Regret that I didn’t tell her more. Didn’t convince her we should try. Regret that I’ll never get to know whether we could have made it.
He soars above the crowd and plunges down towards her, blade slashing out.
I know before the impact that I’m going to get hit, and it’s not going to be good. But I don’t care. I will not let Penelope come to harm.
I crash into Penelope, knocking her out of the way as I hit the floor. She screams. The shadow slams down on top of me, the blade swiping through my carotid. Blood sprays the crowd.
He leaps off me, turning to Penelope. I don’t have time to deal with my neck: as long as my head is on, I’ll heal. But the blood loss is making me woozy. I lunge up, grabbing at his ankles and tackling him to the ground.
We roll. Spin in a whirl of cloak, knife and blood.
Punches smash into ribs and guts. The impacts reverberate through the crowd.
His fists feel like iron. Each blow is excruciating.
Octavia rushes towards us, fighting through the now panicking and fleeing guests.
I haul myself up, though black spots speckle my vision. My skin is already healing, but I’ve lost a lot of blood. Too much. I slip on a puddle of claret as I scrabble to reach her and land on my arse.
I must black out for a second, because when I come to, he’s standing over Penelope.
I don’t think. My body springs forward. I scream as I fling myself through the air towards him.
Octavia is eight feet away. I’m going to get there first. A flash of silver winks in the dim light.
Penelope pushes herself up, a godsawful red mark on her cheek. That cunt hit her. Her eyes land on mine. She screams my name, horror written in the lines of her face.
But I realise too late.
My fist smashes into his temple, knocking the hood off as he spins.
The glint of sliver.
Too late, I realise I didn’t block.
Too late, Penelope screams, “The blade!”
Too late, I recognise the man beneath the hood.
Silver plunges into my chest.
I rear back, falling, falling, falling. My eyes fall to Penelope. Even with horrors etched into her expression, she’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Everything quiets. A calm serenity washes through me as I gaze at Penelope. All my fingers and toes tingle, and I wonder if this is what desiccation is like.
I black out before I even hit the floor.
And then there’s nothing.