Chapter 23 Arabella #2
“Don’t look so shocked, Arabella. This is all thanks to your friend.” Luminita touches her hand to her cheek. “Alyra and I both have a weekly standing facial appointment at Zen and Tonic. We swear by Beth’s beauty elixirs.”
Beth is a miracle worker.
Maybe I should have my own standing appointment.
Luminita and Alyra flitter off to speak with Dalton La Rue, leaving me and Eleanor together.
“I’m interested in hearing more about your cause.” I lift my blood cocktail to my lips.
“The courts give us so many rules. They tell us they are for our safety, but are they not really about control? ‘Vampires and humans must never copulate’, except that we know contraception can eliminate the risk of Dhampir. ‘We must never drink from our kin, because of the sacredness of a vampire’s blood’, but we know that drinking from a vampire grants the drinker some of their power, so is this most sacred law really about ensuring no one of us becomes too powerful?
And what happens if a vampire chooses not to obey?
Your friends Winnie and Alaric are prime examples of flouting our sacred laws,” Eleanor sniffs.
I jump to my friends’ defence. “Winnie and Alaric shouldn’t be punished because the Conclave is too slow to keep up with contraceptive innovations.”
I worry for my friends. At the moment, people are too afraid of Alaric’s mother, the Lady of Agony, to openly condemn their relationship, but Alaric’s friendship with Gideon is turning their betrothal into another Sanctus Estate controversy.
It would make their lives easier if Winnie agreed to become one of us, but she’s not ready, and Alaric respects that.
Even in the Upyr world, consent is sexy as fuck.
And I worry for me, too. Alaric isn’t the only vampire who hasn’t obeyed our laws.
Too many women have woken up with bite marks on their necks and an insatiable hunger, bound to the very monster who Kissed them.
Lord John Astor made it clear to me that he knew he’d never be punished.
If anyone ever found out what I did to him…
“Gideon built Sanctus so we could be safe,” Eleanor continues.
“But how many Upyr view that as their licence to act out their darkest, most depraved fantasies? You know all about these horrible husking murders in the village! How can we stop siring abuse when we allow things like that to happen to innocent humans? Or like this!” Eleanor frowns as she indicates a vampire leading one of the servers behind a bush, his hand pressing against her neck.
“The Sanctus staff have all agreed to be Thralls.” My heart pounds in my ears.
She sniffs. “That may be so, but if your employer can Thrall you, isn’t that an abuse of power?”
A fair point.
Eleanor smiles sadly. “I apologise for bringing down the mood with my passions. If you’d like to discuss it further, you can come to our meeting—”
She’s interrupted by a familiar, smooth, deep, annoying voice.
“Arabella,” Gideon breathes as his eyes devour me. I nod, satisfied that my outfit choice has had the desired effect, especially considering he’s wearing a suit that’s an impeccably tailored existential crisis.
“Gideon, just the man I wanted to see. Take a walk with me.” I grab his arm, nod farewell to Eleanor, and lead him away from the crowd. I hiss in his ear. “You have a problem.”
“I do. I think my heart’s stopped.” He places his hand over his chest. “That dress is the reason warning labels were invented.”
“I need you to be serious. Someone is stealing from you.”
He laughs, a curl of golden hair flopping over his face. “That’s absurd. No one would dare.”
How easily a man with power and notoriety assumes he is safe.
“Oh, they dared.” I struggle to hide the glee in my voice as his face freezes mid-laugh.
“That vault of yours has been decimated. Most of those sacks of coins are stuffed with packing peanuts. The chests are empty, although they left behind most of the ugly old furniture. Whoever did this has gone to great pains to only smuggle out small items and leave the vault looking exactly as you left it. If you hadn’t hired me, no one would have ever noticed. ”
For a moment, Gideon’s mask of easy confidence collapses, and the full force of his rage burns across his features. He glances around, and I realise that the fear darkening his cobalt eyes isn’t for himself – it’s for them. For every vampire who trusts him to keep them safe within Sanctus’ walls.
I feel a flicker of unease at what I’m doing, but I stamp it down. I’m not going to destroy Sanctus. I know better than most how needed it is. I’m making certain Gideon Blake doesn’t get a second chance to fuck it up.
Gideon whips out his phone. “I’ll need to brief the security team. Every one of them worked for me when I was Gideon Vega. They know what to do with traitors.”
The unease flickers higher this time. “I’m afraid you have bigger problems than catching the thief. I can sell the furniture and what coins we have left, but that will give you only a fraction of the money you need. You don’t have enough left in the vault to keep Sanctus open.”
Gideon swallows. His phone drops through his fingers and clatters on the cobbles before landing in the stream with a plop.
“I… I…” He swallows again. “Do I have any options?”
Oh, I am enjoying this. “There’s only one thing that will save Sanctus now. A new investor.”
He shakes his head. “There’s no one else. Not since the Conclave put a target on my back—”
“You have me.”
A hundred different emotions pass across Gideon’s features. “You… you have that kind of money?”
“Why are you questioning the only person offering to help you? I told you, I am very good at my job.”
“I believe it.” He puffs out his cheeks. “This is… I can’t believe it. I truly am the luckiest vampire to have you back in my life.”
You keep believing you’re the lucky one. Meanwhile, I’m going to enjoy my revenge.
“I want Sanctus to succeed as much as anyone.” I shrug, as if this isn’t a big deal, as if I’m not putting my life’s savings on the line to ensure he suffers for what he did to me. “Of course, as majority shareholder, I’ll be taking an active role in management decisions.”
“Yes, yes, whatever you want.” His eyes sparkle, and for a moment, I almost wish I was going to work together with him to improve Sanctus. I picture the two of us bickering over his enormous desk, and then I picture him flinging everything off the top and bending me over it…
I quickly banish that fantasy, which has no place whatsoever inside my revenge plot, no matter how my skin heats at the thought of his hand sliding up my thigh as he presses me into that cool mahogany…
“I’ve already drawn up the paperwork. You’ll find it in your inbox…” I stare meaningfully down at his phone bobbing its way downstream. “Later. As soon as you sign, I’ll have the funds transferred.”
“Arabella, I can’t thank you enough for this. I know things between us are—”
“Fraught?” I suggest. “Violent?”
“Extraordinary,” he corrects me, and there’s a mischievous gleam in his eyes that I don’t like.
It looks a little too much like hope. “But this is truly remarkable. Know that I want your ideas. I truly believe Sanctus could be the start of freeing all vampires from court control. With you at my side, we can make this place—”
“Gideon, there you are.”
Sinead steps over the trickling stream. She glares at me before turning her attention to her boss.
“I’ve been texting you. We’re ready for your presentation now.
Your friend Lord Valerian says that if you don’t hurry up and unveil his statues, he’ll be forced to do it himself, using your intestine for the ribbon-cutting ceremony—”
“Tell Allie to hold his murderous thoughts. I’m on my way.” Gideon smooths down the front of his devastating suit, then reaches out and shakes my hand. “Thank you again. I can’t express in words what this means to me. And luckily, I don’t have to, because I’m about to unveil my surprise.”
Great, Gideon’s surprise. I was hoping he’d forgotten about it.
Gideon skips away. Sinead fixes me with one final glare before taking off in the direction of the trees, glass of blood in hand to deliver to some Upyr. I find Celeste and Winnie in the crowd, and we elbow our way to the front.
“Welcome, residents and staff, to the first of many events to be held in our new Midnight Garden.” Gideon beams from the small makeshift stage.
The band have set down their instruments, and every eye at the party is on him.
He struts the length of the stage, twirling the microphone in his fingers, loving the attention.
My gaze trails down his exquisite Armani suit to his shiny patent leather Brionis.
Why do clothes have to look so good on him?
“I envisioned this space as a place of quiet solitude and contemplation. A good friend of mine once said that when he started painting outside, he could, in his words, ‘… feel the landscape. It’s enchanting. It’s delicious! ’ ”
How dare he steal Claude’s words? I want to shove my wine glass down his throat and twist until it pops out of his ear.
“Unfortunately, Claude Monet refused the gift of the Kiss and remained a human, so he’s not able to be here tonight,” Gideon says with a laugh, his eyes settling on my face, the irises blowing out to darken their cobalt rims. “But I’d like to think he’d be proud to know I remember his words and I’m trying to keep his spirit alive by offering these art commissions to scrappy up-and-coming artists with fresh ideas.
Without further ado, let’s begin with the first piece by a local artist who goes by the name of Quoth. His piece is titled Gone.”
Gideon whips off the first cloth to reveal a large wrought-iron birdcage, bedecked with steel creepers and roses. The door hangs open. There is nothing inside the cage except for a couple of steel bones. The piece has a powerful, forlorn quality to it.