Chapter 28
Sapphire
“Up you go.”
I grunt as I’m thrown over Niklaus’s shoulder, making a focused effort not to vomit as his joint digs into my soft underbelly.
“Fuck, Spitfire. You’re freezing.”
I’m a sweaty, aching, bruised, swollen block of ice. Is it when I travel? Does it make me cold? Didn’t my mother mention her trips to the void would leave her in hypothermic levels?
“I’m—fine.” I tap the coiled muscle on his back. “Let’s just—rest a minute.”
Everything hurts. I’m still suffering the aftermath from our time in my uncle’s basement. And traveling isn’t exactly making a full recovery that much easier.
“I read your mother would undergo hypothermia when she fucked with someone’s mind in the void. Do you think that’s what’s happening?” Niklaus asks.
Flashes of green whirl past me as he walks quickly through what looks like the Emerald Lake Forest.
“I bet that’s why your swelling went down. Hypothermia reduces inflammation.”
“Please. Put me down. Cold. Tired.”
“Vrath just said he can follow us through doors you leave open. We aren’t staying put. We’re half a mile away from the castle. Let’s hide out there and regroup.”
I groan again.
Shouldn’t we go deeper into the forest? Put as much distance between us and Vrath as possible? I don’t want any more run-ins with him. That psychopath is going to harvest my organs and cut off my hair.
After a short while, Niklaus is able to set me down, and we slip into the cellar of the small castle. We sleep for hours but eventually wake with the symphony of noise occurring above us.
Footsteps clack across the ceiling. Violins and cellos are tuned and practiced, muffled over our heads. The room we rest in is dusty, carpeted, and lit by old chandeliers that swing and creak as people move around above us.
“Isn’t this exactly where Vrath would think to look first? I think there’s a ball tonight. Tons of people are going to be here,” I say.
Niklaus shakes his head. “Exactly. He knows we’re trying to be inconspicuous. He saw us hiding in the greenhouse. I guarantee his first thought will be to go deeper into the forest.”
Makes sense.
A soft tune bleeds through the crown molding ceiling and flows past us. I watch Niklaus massage his temples.
“What’d you think about what Vrath had to say about traveling?” he mumbles through his hand.
“I think he kills mothers in order to travel. That’s why he doesn’t catch up to us very quickly.” Maybe he even came to that conclusion when he traveled from his mother’s womb. Wearing a coating of her fluids and blood. I slide my gaze to Niklaus. “I don’t ever want to be near him again.”
“Yeah.”
“Did your mother ever tell you about Val and Vinaley?” I know it’s a long shot, since I’m pretty sure the only person my father told about them was my mother.
“She did,” he replies, resting his chin on his fist. “She was there when they were being experimented on.”
“Wait, what?”
“Demechforth, remember? Her family was a part of the trials too.”
“Did she know them?”
Niklaus nods. “She said she was there for the miscarriage. Though they assumed Vinaley terminated the pregnancy herself. The baby wasn’t in the womb anymore.”
I can’t believe how many dark secrets there are within the confines of our families.
“My mom said Vinaley was so depressed, she fell into an unresponsive, catatonic state. Val ended up killing her and then himself.”
I look away. “That’s so sad.”
“I don’t remember anything other than that.”
“Since I can travel without the blood of mothers…he wants to know what else I can do that he can’t.” My stomach turns sour at the memory of the paint crusting over Vrath’s face. “I bet traveling and killing to try and return back to his timeline has made him insane.”
“And that little detail about how sick he gets because he doesn’t belong anywhere.”
The music grows louder, and the footsteps jingle the glass ornaments on the swinging chandeliers.
“Where do you think we are in time?” I ask.
Niklaus stands himself up, and strides to a giant wardrobe in the corner of the room.
Even in our time, they’ve always kept suits and dresses of all sizes and colors in there.
There were days when Mabel Rose and I would sneak in here, get all dressed up, then Krimson would tease me for stuffing the chest area with tissues.
“You…you want to go to the ball?”
Niklaus flicks his gaze to me, then back to the assortment of tuxes he flips through.
“Shouldn’t we just stay hidden in here?” I yawn, stretching my sore arms over my head.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You don’t travel when you’re calm,” he says, laying out the tux he likes. “You travel when we’re in danger, I think.”
My eyes fall shut. Why can’t I control this?
“There isn’t danger at a ball,” I sigh.
“No, but there are food and drinks.”
At the thought of hot appetizers, finger foods, and buckets of champagne—my stomach claws at itself, echoing with a long, dragged-out growl of hunger.
Lately, I’m damn near at the brink of death with starvation constantly.
Every time we move to a new time, my mouth waters, and my stomach twists for the next meal.
Niklaus sighs reluctantly. “Get drunk with me?”
For a sliver of a moment, I felt relatively normal while we got ready for the ball. The makeup, the gown that is a little loose around my shoulders, and the curlers I put in my hair.
We took our time, found a half-empty bottle of bourbon and took two shots each.
I spent most of the time blotting away at the discoloration and bruises on my face and neck with heavy makeup.
Now, at the top of the grand staircase, we stand to take it all in. The great dome ceiling painted with fluffy pink clouds, majestic beasts, family and portraits, and giant honey chandeliers sparkling over the ballroom of spinning, twirling, laughing, dancing men and women.
Niklaus and I have been to many balls before.
But this is the first we attend from an era before we were born.
The Lady-Doll Regimen era. It doesn’t take long to recognize the clear signs of eating disorders, starvation, and pallid skin that has seen very little sun.
I’ve never see such sharp, protruding collar bones or pointy shoulder caps.
The corsets around each waist make me want to faint from lack of oxygen.
Niklaus clears his throat, holding an arm out to me.
Being here, in this ballroom, seeing his cold eyes and sharp jawline—it all brings me back to the time he made me cry the most when I was fifteen.
Niklaus read my diary after I mistakenly left it out on my bed during one of the Sunday’s everyone came over for family dinner.
Inside of the many humiliating thoughts I wrote down, one of them was that I wanted my first kiss to be at the annual ball.
I wanted to dance with my crush, Dorn Leviat, and share my first kiss under the chandeliers.
And it all came true.
Niklaus Demechnef made sure of it.
Dorn asked me to the ball, danced with me, kissed me to the last song of the night.
It was a masquerade ball. The orchestrated dance required us to switch partners a few times.
Dorn found his way back to me after a few rounds, and when the music slowed, he stopped our dancing, held my face, and dipped down to kiss me.
It was, unfortunately, the best kiss I’ve ever had.
Soft at first, testing the waters, then his kiss took me by storm.
Like he had been waiting as long as I had to have this kiss under the pink clouds of the ballroom ceiling.
Like there were romantic, lustful, passionate feelings pent up in his chest, shaken in a bottle—then released into this kiss.
When it was over, Dorn pulled off his mask and grinned at me.
Though it wasn’t Dorn.
It was Niklaus Demechnef.
He proceeded to recite a few lines from my diary from memory, lean in, and whisper, “Every second of tonight belonged to me. You just didn’t know it.
I bet Dorn and the rest of the boys that you’d kiss me back.
That you wouldn’t even notice it wasn’t your precious crush kissing you.
Thanks for making me a few gold coins, Spitfire. ”
That night, as I left in tears, my brother beat the living hell out of Niklaus.
He has always been superior in hand-to-hand combat like our father.
Krimson doesn’t show it off often, but that night his vicious temper that stays practically invisible to the public eye came out on full display.
And after Niklaus was beaten unconscious, my brother tied him up in the pig’s pen, covered in mud and blood with a message on his chest.
Female Swine.
Then told Aunt Marilynn and Uncle Niles about his indiscretion. To which they kicked him out of the house for three weeks after he gave me a bullshit, half-assed apology.
I shake the memory off and slide my hand into the crook of Niklaus’s arm. Our descent down the staircase is slow as we both silently scan the crowd for any sign of that disgusting painted face and black hat. But we seem to be in the clear.
As we make it to the last step, the few eyes that were on us flip above our heads to the top of the white marble staircase. Their eyebrows raise, lips part, and whispers gently flow from person to person.
I let go of Niklaus’s arm to turn around, gawking up at my mother standing in a satin, bloodred dress, holding the arm of Aurick Demechnef.
I nearly lose my balance at the sight of her.
Long, flowing golden curls that hang below her breasts.
The low v-neck covered in sheer fabric and dazzling red jewels.
Tall red heels. Rosy, glossy, plump lips.
“Oh shit,” I mutter under my breath.
“Come on.”
Niklaus tugs me off to the side where the violinists practice and tune their instruments. And we stare in silence, watching my mother whisper to Aurick uncomfortably. The tension, the hushed tones, the daggers he gives her. The way he storms off after a quick, scolding word.
I have to grip Niklaus’s forearm to keep him from doing something stupid.