Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
“IT REALLY IS NOT RECOMMENDED to withdraw this much blood,” Nial says as he caps off the tube of my blood leading into the bag. “It will leave you weak for a day or two. And that’s on top of what we took yesterday, and the day before.” He looks up at me with those beautiful eyes.
“I understand the risks,” I say. I do feel slightly lightheaded. “But I appreciate you helping me.”
“Samuel tells me your…boyfriend is an paramedic,” Nial says as he begins cleaning up our equipment. “He’s done this for you before?”
I nod as I press my thumb into the bandage he applies to my forearm.
“But he does not live in the House?”
He’s learning. Quickly. Lillian has taken it upon herself to educate him. I think she appreciates having someone her own age in the House.
“It’s complicated,” I respond, not particularly desirous to talk about it. I grab the bag of blood and cross to the fridge in the office. I take the three other bags and put them in an insulated bag with the new one. “Thank you for your help, again. How did your interview at Hipsbro General go?”
“Well,” he responds as he removes his gloves and disposes of them. “Arranging the interview in the middle of the night was not quite as difficult as I expected. They already called this afternoon. They offered me the position.”
Nial will only be on call, plus two guaranteed shifts, but they’re all graveyard.
“You don’t have to ask it,” he says. He’s been watching my face. “I will be able to get blood for the House members. You can’t keep letting them feed on you. Eventually it will kill you, and then what will you do?”
We stand there, face to face. Only having known each other a few days, but already trusted allies. “Thank you. It means a great deal to me.”
“Loyalty and family are things I haven’t had in a very long time,” he says. “When I’ve found it, it’s not something I take lightly.”
“I promise it will go both ways.”
We turn and walk out the doors and down the stairs. And as we round into the foyer, I find Rath standing just under the chandelier, hands folded in front of him, waiting.
“Alivia, may I speak with you for a moment?” he asks.
I nod, and the two of us walk into the library. Rath closes the door behind us.
“A delivery was made this afternoon and I am greatly concerned about it.”
He doesn’t beat around the bush.
“It’s only fair,” I say with stiffness.
“Fair is a concept that is only justifiable to children, Alivia,” Rath nearly spits out. “You are an adult. You are a leader. And you are in a position to set an example. To bring about real change.”
“Do you not remember that it was my mother she dug up and dropped on my front door step?” I bellow.
I take a step toward him. The acid in my veins becomes more deadly by the moment.
“How do you think you would have reacted if it was my father they had dug up and left for you to discover, just to mess with your head, Rath? Would you simply turn the other cheek?”
The stunned look on his face says he hadn’t thought of it like that.
Rath’s loyalty and love for my father—whom he called a brother—is deep and pure.
“I didn’t think so,” I say, my voice lowering. The back of my eyes sting. So instead of staying and fighting, instead of justifying myself like I feel I have to do, I leave the library.
I find Anna standing in the entryway of the ballroom. “You okay?” she asks.
“Fine,” I growl as I motion for her to follow me. “Let’s go.”
We walk to the garage and climb in the Jeep, the back of it heavily weighted down. I set the insulated bag in my lap and Anna drives. She wears a set of sunglasses that are more like goggles. Because it’s only five-thirty and the sun shines behind the gray cloud cover.
Anna doesn’t question me. She doesn’t tell me that this is either unwise or too much, or to prepare for retaliation.
She doesn’t say anything at all. And for that I am thankful.
The vegetation around the road grows thicker as we turn off from town and head south. The road becomes rough and uneven. And finally, we turn off into the swamps that lead to the False House.
Curses. Jasmine began to tell me about them once, but I don’t know much about them. At one time, this land was a thriving plantation. Now it’s muck. The Hanging Tree in town is completely dead, but before my Uncle and his House members were hung in it, it was beautiful and full.
Who controls these curses? Individuals with terrifying power? The universe? Karma?
I wish I understood it.
I vow to ask the King when he arrives.
I can only hope that the daylight will protect Anna and I as we park in front of the House.
We both climb out and I open the back hatch for Anna.
From it, she hefts a huge headstone made from the finest marble.
With no strain at all, she carries it to the edge of the circular driveway and sets it where it will be in full view from the front porch.
The positioning mirrors what they did with my mother.
I retrieve another box from the car and walk back to the porch. From it, I pull an intricate mobile. Like the kind you’d hang above an infant’s crib. But mine is far more sinister.
At the very top, just below the string I attach to the roof of the porch with a nail, is a crown, one—alone. It’s a replica of the family crown Rath presented me with after Ian was killed. The raven stands out, bold and strong, brilliant gold.
Beneath it hang five other crowns, one representing each Ian, Samuel, Lillian, Anna, and Nial.
The next tier holds four more crowns, and dangling in the center of each of them is a single blood bag. Gifts for Markov, Christian, Cameron, and Trinity.
And hanging at the very bottom, lonely and beneath all the others, is the last crown. It’s painted flat black, to match Jasmine Veltora’s black, obviously dead, heart. Suspended just inside the circle of the crown, is another tiny black crown for Micah.
I step back to the stairs, admiring my work.
It’s a beautiful, complicated sight.
But the true crown is the one I turn around to face. The headstone Anna placed in plain view.
In Memory of Alexander Veltora.
Samuel has many connections. Samuel is old. Samuel knows many stories.
I did not expect him to be so valuable when he walked into my home. I expected nothing more than a man who would make perverted comments and try to catch a view down my shirt.
I did not expect such a weapon.
I did not expect his valuable information.
Something dark and strange has begun taking over my insides ever since Jasmine left my mother on my front drive. Something strong and aggressive.
And I don’t have the desire to fight it, I’ve found.
Anna makes a motion with her hand that it’s time to leave. We walk back to the car, having not said a single word this entire time.
We don’t say a single one on our way back to the House either.
We both know exactly what we’ve done and what is to come.
THERE’S THE TASTE OF COLD salt in the air.
The day grows dark. The clock ticks down. Twenty minutes until sunset. The temperatures dip into the thirties.
“We’ve never had a winter this cold in Silent Bend,” Samuel says as we all wait on the front porch. “Never.”
“It has been unseasonably cold,” Rath agrees. “Normally we are in the upper forties, lower fifties. I don’t think we’ve hit forty-five in over a month.”
I let my breath out slowly, watching the air create a giant white cloud. I’m used to cold. I lived at the base of the Rocky Mountains where we would get feet of snow in days and not get above freezing for weeks.
But this cold feels different. It’s wet. It coats you and sinks into your bones.
We discuss the weather as we wait for a war to begin.
One I couldn’t have known to start without Samuel.
The night slips darker.
As do my thoughts.
Jasmine Voltera was the daughter of slaves. She was born thirty years after the Civil War ended, but things didn’t change much on the plantation her parents were owned by. She grew up on it, worked it. But then she met a man.
Alexander worked hard, born as a free man. He began making a name for himself as a leather worker. It wasn’t easy, but he persevered. He bought himself a small home.
Jasmine and Alexander met at church. Love at first sight.
Only two months after meeting, they were married.
They were happy. In love.
For three years they tried to have children, yet were unsuccessful.
Then yellow fever swept through the country.
Jasmine Voltera contracted the awful virus. She died.
Only to wake four days later. She crawled her way out of a heap of diseased, dead bodies just moments before they set the mass grave on fire.
She went home, looking for her husband.
She found him.
And her new fangs were in his neck without realizing what she was doing. In just a few minutes, Jasmine drained Alexander. She killed the love of her life.
I sniff as my nose wants to drip in the cold, damp night. I wipe the back of my sleeve against my face.
I understand that it was not Jasmine’s fault, what she did to her husband. She didn’t know what was happening.
But I will fight fire with fire.
“They’re coming,” Anna says.
Every one of us straightens. Hands curl into fists. I tighten my grip on my crossbow. My House flanks me as I stand in the middle of the porch. Anna to my right, Samuel and Rath to my left, Nial and Lillian behind me.
I hear the gate rattle as impossibly fast bodies leap over it. And not four seconds later, a blur of motion races directly for me.
My human instincts are slow. I raise my crossbow, but by that time, Anna has thrown herself in front of me and she and Jasmine collide before crashing to the ground.
Samuel and Rath both throw themselves at Micah, who fights back with a deafening roar. And I actually catch a glimpse of the red glow of Trinity’s eyes before Lillian grips her by her hair and with a quick twist and twirl, throws her back out across the lawn.
Nial steps directly to my side, hugging close to it as he surveys the surroundings.