Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
The humid July air soaks into my cold skin as I overlook the city.
Philadelphia spreads out below me, lit up the way it has always been. The same skyline I have looked at from this terrace for years.
I don’t know how many of those lights are vampires.
The thought arrives with no warning, and I can’t put it back where it came from. The biggest night of my career, still echoing two floors below me with laughter and guests, and I can’t make it matter.
I worked so hard for Angela. Only to learn everything I worked toward was a lie. Preserving history. Raising money for research for what I thought would benefit the future of all the lives below me.
Vampires.
I know less about the world now than ever.
The elevator dings behind me. I don’t turn around. If it is Leif again, I don’t know what I will do and I would rather not find out.
“There you are.” Judy’s voice. Not Leif’s.
Leaning against a railing, I barely turn toward her.
She could be just another vampire. Though Judy is older, past retirement age, her beauty now just a remnant of who she once was.
Her eyes, however, are clear and a little too knowing if you ask me.
Still holding a flute in her hand, she leans against the railing in the opposite direction.
“Don’t tell me you’re fine, darling.” She doesn’t ask. She looks me over once and pours her drink out. “I wouldn’t believe you anyway.”
The laugh that falls out of me is full of grief for every belief I had.
“No,” I answer honestly. “And I’m guessing since you are asking me that question then you know…” I don’t intend for my voice to be as hard as it is when it comes out. “What exactly?”
“Well,” she says gently, setting her flute aside to face me. “No shoes. Stockings. Your dress is torn right here.” She fingers a loose thread.
I look down at myself for the first time since the locker room. No shoes. Stockings ruined. Dress torn where I did not feel it tear. I am a woman who takes inventory for a living, and I have not taken inventory of myself in five hours.
“But it’s the blood.” She swipes her finger along the bite mark. “The bite is almost healed now. The saliva in their mouth will heal the bite. It’ll feel tender for a few days, nothing more.”
My hand goes to my throat. I find skin. I move my fingers up. I find more skin. No punctures. There was a bruise the shape of a mouth under my jaw twenty minutes ago. I watched it in the glass of the rooftop door. I watched it.
“Vampires.”
She sighs as though she’s had this conversation a thousand times in as many languages.
“Are you so surprised?” she asks.
“Yes.” Even I can’t pretend that’s not naive. “My best friend Callie swore to me things were real. She saw something when she was younger.” I stop. The breath I take is the wrong size for the next sentence. “I dismissed her.”
Judy waits.
“She’s at home right now. Out cold, memories gone. Because of me. Because a vampire wants me. And the only thing I can think about is that I dismissed her story about seeing a vampire as a teen. About all of it.”
“Faulting yourself for your ignorance won’t get you anywhere,” Judy says harsher than I’d like. But she isn’t wrong. “All you can do is decide right now how to go on.” She glances out to the horizon. “Because eventually, they’ll know you remember. And then this all starts over.”
“How did you…” I trail off. “How did you know I’d need this conversation?”
“Come with us.”
That’s right, the job offer. “Where?”
“New Zealand,” she says. “There’s a cave there. Rumored to have information about the houses.”
“So this is what it actually is?” I ask her. “Rich people funding Angela’s vampire research.”
“Is that your takeaway?” She laughs, not at all offended. “Darling. I said no too.”
My face falls as she shows me her wrist and the faint birthmark there.
I grab her wrist, staring at proof that I am not the only one. “I don’t understand.”
“Let me tell you everything I know. Teach you.” She holds my hand in hers. “We don’t just acquire historical artifacts to bury the truth. We’re forever searching to understand who they are. And who we are—”
I blink.
“What?”
“—and if you think Leif’s Coven is the only one that’ll seek you out, then you’re a fool.” She carries on like I didn’t just say anything.
I look at her. I mean really look at her.
I labeled a rich woman at a fundraiser as nothing more than another aging trophy wife bored with her daily grind.
But she’s more than that. And I was wrong. Again.
Her hint at others coming for me is what my brain snags on.
“Gerald?” I pause. “Or Harold? I never could remember.”
“Protection.” She lifts her chin like she’s daring me to comment. “You’ll need protection too. There aren’t many of us.”
So the nightmare won’t ever end.
“Wouldn’t you prefer to hold knowledge close?”
“You’re pushing for this pretty hard.”
“And if you knew what I know, you’d push too,” she says. “Brides need to look out for each other. Most vampires haven’t figured out yet that they can’t manipulate our memories.”
I snort. “And what about Callie?”
“The odds of Callie being a Bride are small,” she says gently. “One in thousands.”
“But you found me.” I shake my head.
“Oh no, darling. I suspected. But unless a Bride is near a complete Coven, she may never know.”
“These rules are bullshit.”
Her laugh echoes around Philadelphia.
“Of course they are.” She smiles, tilting her head back and closing her eyes. “But you should get to know them.”
“They’ll never stop?” I ask, nausea building inside me.
“Never. Once a Bride is found, well… usually a Coven tries to keep them to themselves. If they cannot, then it’s…”
“Open season?”
“Well, yes.” She drops her head and stares through my soul. “Decide quickly. They’ll know by morning.”
Not long ago a vampire on this same rooftop asked me to be his Bride. I said no. Walking away was the right answer then.
I don’t think it is the right answer now.