Chapter 8
“I hate you,”
I mutter to my brother as he forces me to walk next to him down a dark cobblestone path toward the Marcheur de Nuit Mausoleum .
Yes. It’s by force. He put a spell on my shoes.
“You love me,”
he denies. As Anthony and I approach, I notice a low stone wall with iron posts towering above us, separating us from the lush grass on the other side.
The iron posts are not just for decoration; they’re meant to contain any ghouls or other supernatural beings within the enclosed area.
No one wants them out adventuring in the city. With a wave of his hand, Anthony conjures a shimmering magic that envelops the fence before physically pulling me through the solid brick to the other side.
“And you need me.”
“Debatable. ”
Old-fashioned lamp posts with flickering gas flames line the edges of the enclosed graveyard. Cloudy glass attracts white moths, which flutter around the lamplights like ethereal spirits. I recall a tutor who likened these nocturnal creatures to butterflies of the night, drawing a fascinating parallel between their activities and those of their diurnal counterparts.
“I’m a delicate butterfly in a world of fiery dragons.”
Grandfather George had taught me that saying when I was little, his warning to be careful in a dangerous world. The insects remind me of my birth mother. She has a butterfly tattoo on her chest and thinks of me as her little butterfly because of a butterfly mobile she put over my crib when I was a baby. Not that she remembers telling me that.
Anthony threads his arm through mine, forcing me to walk beside him. “Would you, honestly, rather be in the penthouse of broken dreams waiting for Uncle Mortimer to bring over your future husband, Chester, to negotiate betrothal agreements and breeding obligations? Or would you rather hide out with your amazingly awesome brother, partying until dawn in the supernatural underground?”
Are those my only two choices?
Tourists can freak themselves out in the catacombs beneath the Basilica of St. Patrick’s Old Cathedral in lower Manhattan for a forty-dollar ticket. Although these catacombs are in the same part of the city, this is not the same thing. There is no discernable way in or out of the yard, even though you can peek through the iron bars. The only way through is with magic.
I’ve seen the outside of the nightwalker mausoleum, but I’ve never been inside. It’s the secret entrance to the catacombs underneath. And I’d put the word secret in air quotes since there are a lot of supernaturals who know about it.
Anthony and I make an interesting pair. I’m in my fuck off T-shirt and sneakers. He looks ready for a VIP table at the hottest nightclub. No one will ever accuse Anthony of being out of style. The sequined pinstripe black velvet shirt feels a little showy for a graveyard party, but what do I know?
“Hey.”
Anthony stops and cups my face, forcing me to look at him. “If you really don’t want to be here, Tam, I’ll take you home. I just thought we could both use a little forgetting. I promise I won’t let anyone hurt you down there. The ghouls won’t bother the living.”
He doesn’t need to say more. I see it. He feels alone, like me.
Anthony acts protective. As much as I love his company, I can’t help but feel he’s clinging to me because he needs me to comfort him, not the other way around .
Conrad and I spent our childhoods sticking beside each other—two mortal children against the supernatural world. Only after Conrad’s death did I begin to see that maybe Anthony could have used membership in our little club. As the favored child, Anthony received all the parental attention and had all the cool friends. It never occurred to me that he might need my support. All the constant attention came with its own set of problems for him.
I’m not sure which is worse—being forgotten or never being left alone.
Like most of his serious moments, this one is fleeting. Anthony lets go of me and shoves his hand into his jacket pocket, only to pull out a joint.
“Never use breeding obligation in a sentence again.”
I visibly shiver. “The thought of Chester’s clammy hands…”
I dramatically gag to prove my point.
“Fair enough.”
Anthony laughs and snaps his fingers, producing a small flame that he uses to light the tip. Taking a long drag, he offers it to me.
I shake my head. The last time I smoked one of his party joints was my birthday. I don’t know what it’s laced with, but that is one club-drug-magic-carpet-ride to passing out on a public restroom floor I don’t want to have again.
Cemeteries shouldn’t bother me. When you grow up around the supernatural, things like mausoleums and the undead are commonplace. But now, the afterlife has a new meaning. I expect Conrad’s spirit to appear from behind every crooked tombstone and weather-beaten statue. It keeps my stomach knotted and my heart pounding a little too hard. If his revenge is to preoccupy my thoughts and keep me in fear, he’s succeeding.
Blurs pass by like flighted creatures, moving in the same direction we are walking. They draw my attention to a large angel with spread wings standing guard over the graves. Even in the moonlight, the stone looks weathered and stained, and I see a chunk missing from her hand. Time has not been kind to her.
My hand goes to my neck only to be reminded that my amulet is broken and in my pocket. I’m not protected by magic.
The smell of marijuana comes from my brother. I think about reaching out to take it from him. Maybe oblivion is better than fear.
“You brought protection?”
Costin’s voice stops me. I didn’t hear him approach.
Anthony’s arm automatically slides over my shoulders before I can turn to face the vampire behind us. “My sister better not need protection.”
“All beautiful women need protection. This is a cruel world we live in.”
Costin appears next to me.
Beautiful? The compliment takes me by surprise. A small part of me might find pleasure in the word, but my logical brain knows better. Costin needs me for his prophecy quest, and he’s buttering me up.
“And perhaps it is most cruel to those who deserve it the least.”
Costin’s voice is low, almost like he’s flirting.
What the hell?
He looks at me expectantly. I turn to find Anthony craning his neck to study me.
“Monsters like squishing delicate things.”
It’s the only thing I can think to add to their conversation.
“Indeed,”
Costin states.
“Here’s to delicate things.”
Anthony holds up his joint and gestures it like he’s clicking a glass for a toast. Bringing it to his lips, he mumbles, “And here’s to fighting monsters.”
He takes a long draw.
“Anthony, may I escort your sister?”
Costin lifts his arm for me to take.
I lean away, pressing into my brother’s side.
Anthony’s arm tightens in a half hug. “I think that would be up to my sister.”
My first instinct is to say no, but something stops me.
Costin asked for this meeting. He probably just wants to finish stating his case. I doubt he will give up until I at least listen to his proposal. I look toward the mausoleum. The gothic structure waits like a demon’s mouth offering hell. I don’t want to go into the land of ghouls and monsters. Out here in the open is better.
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
“Sure. I’ll be fine, Anthony.”
I squeeze my brother’s hand before sliding him from my shoulders. “Costin and I need to have a quick conversation. You go on and have fun. I’ll see you at home later.”
Anthony studies me for a moment. “Text me if you come down, and I’ll find you. Don’t wander alone.”
The request is strange. No one ever asks me to check in. If they want to find me, they can.
“Sure.” I nod.
“Constantine.”
Anthony gives a parting nod. His tone and look could be translated as a warning.
“Anthony.”
Costin nods back.
My brother walks backward several steps, keeping his gaze steady on the vampire. When he finally turns, I want to call him back to my side. I watch a trail of smoke follow him into the shadows.
“You surprise me,”
Costin admits when Anthony is out of earshot.
“Oh?”
I keep my eyes on my brother’s back for as long as I can see him. He disappears into the mausoleum.
Chilled fingers touch the side of my neck, and I shiver at the contact.
“I don’t know many humans who would willingly walk into a boneyard to meet a vampire in the middle of the night.”
I watch him in my peripheral, not meeting his eyes.
“If that’s true, then why invite me into your lair?”
I point out. “Why not just come back to the house?”
“Lair? Hardly.”
He chuckles. “Your house is crowded tonight. I thought we’d have more privacy here, on neutral ground.”
This place hardly feels neutral.
If anything happens to me, Anthony knows I’m with the vampire. I’m safe.
Why don’t I feel safe?
The light scratch of his nails moves over my pulse as if contemplating my artery. I tense.
“I owe you an apology.”
Costin pulls his fingers away from my neck.
“Okay?”
I hug my arms across my stomach.
“I should not have lost my temper with you earlier. I thought George would have explained things better to you, but it is clear you don’t know, and I have taken you by surprise.”
I have to admit, his new approach doesn’t bring me much comfort. Apologizing doesn’t feel natural on the vampire. I can’t help but wonder if this is some type of manipulation.
Did I mention I have trust issues ?
“Thank you for the apology, but my mind hasn’t changed. I want nothing to do with supernatural prophecies.”
I think of the last paranormal adventure I went on. Vampires chased me across the country, a fairy waitress had a temper tantrum, and Conrad killed the man I love. “They won’t make sense to you, but I have my reasons. I’m mortal. I accept that. I can’t change the world. Now I’ll kindly, and with the most respect possible, ask you to leave me be.”
“No.”
No. Just like that.
“I don’t want to do your stupid prophecy.”
My voice sounds loud in the quiet cemetery, and I take a calming breath. “Find someone else.”
“The way you speak to me.”
Costin comes to stand in front of me and lifts his hand to nudge my chin with his bent knuckle. He forces my face upward to meet his. I stare over his shoulder. “And you won’t do me the courtesy of looking me in the eye when you do it.”
“I don’t like it when you mesmerize me.”
I glance at his face and back to the side.
“When have I mesmerized you?”
That doesn’t make sense. I couldn’t resist him when he held my arm in the library. I wonder if he’s attempting a joke. It’s so hard to tell sometimes with his kind .
I feel like he’s daring me. Lifting my gaze to stare at his eyes, I hold my breath and wait to be taken over.
He gives a slow smile. “There you go.”
I keep very still, aware of his nearness. The dark silence of the cemetery surrounds us. Even the normal sounds of the city seem at rest here. The moment feels intimate. He looks at my mouth, his expression unexpectedly soft, and I wonder if he’s going to try to kiss me.
“Take a breath,”
he orders, his voice smooth and unbothered.
I do. I try to step away but can’t.
“Are you doing it now?”
I whisper, unable to move.
He gives a small shake of his head. The vampire can deny it all he wants, but I feel the truth.
“I don’t believe you.”
I want to run. Why in the world didn’t I go underground with my brother? Hanging in the supernatural realm with him sounds so much better than being alone with a seductive vampire hellbent on making me do some kind of quest. “My legs don’t work.”
“Then that is your issue, not mine.”
His tone darkens, and he sounds exasperated. His bent finger extends beneath my chin, and his sharp nail brushes my neck like a warning. His presence pulls at me like gravity .
I feel a vibration against my hip, and at first, I think it’s him. I instantly touch the spot to push him away but realize it seems to be coming from the broken amulet.
“Shall we go?”
He motions toward the mausoleum.
As I’m about to respond, I hear a faint rustling in the shadows. My heart skips a beat, and I find myself moving closer to Costin out of instinct. “What was that?”
His mouth opens, but before Costin can answer, something bursts from the shadows, leaping onto a nearby tombstone. The small, goblin-like creature has glowing red eyes and sharp teeth, and it screeches incoherently at me. Before I can react, it lunges at me. Its gnarled claws swipe toward my face. I scream and stumble backward. My hands lift to shield me from the attack, but the creature is too fast. It lands on my arm, teeth bared as it tries to bite my throat.
Suddenly, there’s a blur of motion. Costin is in front of me, moving faster than my mind can process. With a swift, almost lazy motion, he grabs the creature by the throat and holds it in the air like an angry doll. The thing screeches, thrashing about as its claws cut into Costin’s flesh, but the vampire doesn’t even blink.
“This one’s harmless,”
he says, his voice eerily calm. “Just misguided.”
Misguided?
Misguided!