Chapter 2
The House of Hollows’s elaborate residence was as mercurial and eclectic as their Elite, Corrine.
The soft and warm beige exterior exuded grandeur with its commanding grand portico supported by fluted columns and finished with simple roofline molding to connect the gable.
The large windows decorated by stained-glass transoms were more suited to a Grecian home than an estate in the Midwest, but its architecture had a harmonious appeal and charm that I couldn’t deny.
I stepped out of my car and Corrine vanished from view on the rooftop terrace.
Moving along the sweeping, stone-paved path, I admired the perfectly trimmed and lush greenery that added idyllic charm to the home.
The vibrant poplars surrounding the property served to obscure visitors from determining how far they were from the next property.
Corrine once joked that she didn’t want people to realize their screams would never be heard and that there was beauty in hope.
Her humor would be considered morbid dark humor if her past actions didn’t contradict it at every turn.
I’d heard the screams. Many had heard the screams. She was renowned for her temper and wrathful ways.
Ringing the doorbell to announce my presence, I opened the always unlocked door and entered the beautifully crafted home where the Greek revival influence of the exterior ended and the mixture of contemporary and glam esthetics began.
The House of Hollow’s crest was embedded into the light-marble floors.
Muted ivory walls accented by textured gray panels should have provided a serenity to the home that fell short of exuding welcome.
An ascent up the winding stairs would have led me to the bedrooms where half of the House of Hollows vampires resided. I had every intention of staying on the first floor.
The teardrop chandelier cast the barest golden peach hue.
Tension twined around me as it always did in this house, making me focus on the beautiful planters nestled in the corner.
I suspected the large-leafed plants in them were fake but there to give the illusion of more than just vampire life existing within the walls.
I was on edge at the silence and walked softly, regretting that I hadn’t brought my stake of necri with me, if for no other reason than to force an amicable interaction and defuse the situation. I pressed my hand to my thigh where I’d stored a knife. It offered some reassurance as I padded forward.
Rich, dark wood contrasted beautifully with light walls in the living room, sitting room, and library that I passed. The doors with their intricate curves and swirls were used as art rather than pictures and canvases.
My first stop was Corrine’s office, which was locked.
So I moved to the second possible destination.
I hated this game. She could have met me at the door, or had someone escort me to her.
No, that would be too simple and divest some of her control.
She liked the unease it provoked to search her out in the massive home.
The door was slightly open at the second likely place she’d meet me.
Before she could invite me in, I knocked on the door and entered Corrine’s personal den.
The eggshell-colored room was decorated in a series of arches, curves, and circles that extended to the sofa and the boucle side chairs with half-moon brushed metal legs.
Relieved that she’d chosen to meet here opposed to her office loosened the ball of worry I hadn’t realized had settled in my chest. Meetings in her office tended to end with only her leaving and a request for a clean-up crew.
Corrine was on the curved sofa, her arms stretched out and a smile curling her lips.
Her sun-kissed fawn-colored skin was a result of her Afro-Chinese mother and Danish father.
During our first one-on-one meeting, she’d rattled off her ethnic identity with rehearsed proficiency.
I assumed it was in response to a topic she addressed often.
I hadn’t met a Mauritian until Corrine. The House of Hollows had a significant number of vampires from there.
Corrine’s expressive whiskey-colored eyes settled on me, and if it wasn’t for the glare in them, I’d never know the extent of her anger.
It was a quality she and Belham shared and had proven to be an excellent trap.
Their intentions were never given away by their expression, and their displays of anger ended with a lifeless body at their feet.
Corrine had only had seventy years to perfect the blank face; unlike Belham’s, it sometimes faltered and I got a glimpse of the lost humanity in the vampire.
She was a living—well, sort of living—example of not judging by appearance.
Luxurious waves of variously toned earthy-brown hair framed a soft oval face.
The lighting cast subtle shadows on the curves and contours of her face that gave her an inviting, kind appearance.
The V-neck wraparound dress accentuated her long torso and skated over her amiable curves.
It was easy to see how people were deceived by the package and underestimated her at every turn.
She valued and relied on the misguided perceptions.
I didn’t underestimate her but found myself in a constant struggle to assert boundaries to avoid becoming her doormat.
“I said an hour.” The coolness of her voice chilled the room.
I made a show of checking my watch, letting an innocent smile feather over my lips. “I’m only forty minutes late.”
Corrine’s dagger gaze narrowed on me. My tenuous relationship with the two houses often involved me having to define the lines of my job and remind them that I wasn’t an indentured servant at their beck and call.
She had fucked up, and I wanted her to ponder over it.
I hoped she’d learn from the experience, but I refrained from being too unrealistic with my expectations.
Before she could invite me to, I took a seat on the side chair farthest from her.
“He’s not dead. Why did you lie?” her curt voice inquired.
Note: I can’t trust Jonah.
“Really?” I asked.
“He answered the door when I sent my cleaners to his house,” Corrine said.
“Why did you do that?”
“Remove all evidence of my interaction with him. He was quite discreet when I hired him. I had great hopes for him.”
“And now?”
“Well, he didn’t succeed.” Her long fingers brushed the air in dismissal.
“What’s my contract with the houses?” I asked.
Her lips lifted into a dubious smirk. “I don’t think reciting the terms of our relationship is necessary when it only serves to stroke my ego knowing that you are in a position of privilege because of me.”
Corrine had the beautifully expert ability to humble me with words.
Being the house liaison had afforded me an income far better than any other job I’d had.
After realizing that teaching high school wasn’t for me, I’d worked as a barista, in a bookstore, at a library, and once, I spent an entire week at the front desk of a budget hotel.
That sent me running to Cloak and Dagger, an upscale bar frequented by supernaturals.
The business thrived because of the premium on drinks and food.
The patrons tipped well. I expected nothing less from supernaturals who enjoyed the perks of a lavish club that catered to them.
The humans who paid the upcharge to enter for the chance to gawk and mingle turned out to be exceptional tippers as well.
The job provided me with a decent enough income from my tips to cover my rent, food, utilities, and the luxury of two TV subscription services.
My job with the vampires offered me financial security.
But I’d quickly return to being a server before I allowed Corrine to bully me.
“Do you want to sever the ties?” I asked.
“Then you two can spend your time trying to kill each other and see what mayhem the other houses create while the Houses of Knight and Hollows are distracted. They may even feel emboldened enough to challenge you all while you two are preoccupied trying to overthrow each other.” I tapped my chin thoughtfully.
“The aftermath of Pyrrhic victories are always interesting to watch.”
From the extended time she took considering my question, I expected her to say yes out of spite.
Corrine was pragmatic, and despite their myriad gifts and stratagems, Belham and Corrine had not figured out a way to play nice.
The hate between them was so deep-rooted, I continued to search for the origins.
It was hard to accept that it was simply based in the thirst for ultimate power.
If one house fell, the other would become king or queen.
No other house had enough members, power, knowledge, connection, or money to topple them.
Even if the remaining three houses joined forces, the best they could hope for was a respectable standoff—and even that would come at a steep cost. Would it be worth the risk?
Their vulnerability would ensure that either the witches or the werewolves would take advantage of their newly weakened position.
Corrine was still examining me when I admitted, “It seems my presence in your lives just allows you all to be your worst possible selves.”
It was an ego stroke knowing that I played a vital role in preventing the supernatural world from devolving into chaos and saving the lives of humans who’d definitely be collateral damage.
Now I wondered if I was merely postponing the inevitable.
The dangerous thought of becoming the accelerant crossed my mind.
Let the war proceed. When it’s over, access the rubble and help rebuild. I knew I’d be among the ruins.
“Your time with us has made you valuable. I’d be foolish to end our arrangement,” Corrine said, pulling me from my thoughts. With a flash of movement, she was leaning over me. My sharp gasp placed a devious spark in her eyes.