41. Ari
Ari
We gather in the great hall. It feels cosier than it did yesterday, with even more candles burning and the imposing portraits of the Hele clan shrouded in heavy velvet drapes.
There’s a sense of anticipation in the air, a feeling that anything could happen.
Or maybe that’s because I can’t stop thinking about what just happened and what will happen later then we can retire back to Brody’s room and find delicious privacy again.
I’m not letting the opportunity slip through my fingers this time.
I reach for his hand. For once it isn’t warm in mine, it’s ice cold, like he’s a vampire too.
For a moment I’m taken aback, concern flooding my system.
There were rumours – many many years ago – that vampires could be created.
That all vampires could turn the humans, not just the first of our kind who made the Twelve from whom we are all descended.
But it was an old wives tale and nothing more.
Something we made up stories about when we were babies.
Something the humans used to scare their children with.
“It’s freezing in here,” he leans to whisper in my ear. Relief floods my system, he’s just cold. Not vampire. I didn’t lose control when we were together and find a way to turn him. I shake my head a little at my own stupidity. I really need to get a grip on myself. Pull it together, Arianna.
I pull Brody closer to one of the wall-sconces, no doubt lit to provide more dramatic flair to the announcements but kicking out a bit of heat. Hopefully enough to take the edge off the chill for him and stop him developing gangrene this evening.
“Thank you,” he says and squeezes my hand. “I’m nervous,” he adds after a pause.
“Me too,” I admit.
“Whatever happens though we know we did our best. We threw everything at this pitch, Ari. We should be proud of ourselves.” His smile is wide and sincere.
I actually think he believes the positive affirmations he says.
And perhaps, for the first time in my life, I believe them too.
Maybe positivity is catching? Or maybe Brody just makes you a better person, the little voice says in the back of my brain.
I don’t immediately shut her down, she may have a good point.
A man I once knew – or thought I knew but it turned out my perceptions were so very wrong – strides on to the stage, full of self-importance and so clearly revelling in being the centre of attention it makes my skin crawl.
I’ve spent decades trying to avoid him. His name is Benedict Dalton and he’s the first person I ever loved.
Or at least I thought I loved him until he showed me the truth of who he was.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Benedict says, his eyes scanning the audience and a huge smile plastered across his face. “As Head of Investment for the High Council I’m thrilled to announce the results of today’s pitches.”
Benedict Dalton works for the High Council?
In charge of investments? Why didn’t Andrei tell me?
He knows we used to be together. But then I remember what Clara said, about how her father still thought I should marry Benedict and it all becomes clear.
Fucking Benedict Dalton. Is he going to follow me forever, always just there like a bad smell, waiting in the shadows to destroy any tiny bit of happiness I find for myself?
He makes a huge deal of announcing how much funding has been pledged to each pitch, going through the list in the same order as we took to the stage earlier. After each one he pauses for a round of applause, smiling and geeing up the crowd as if it were him they were cheering for.
We’re next on the list and I hold my breath. We need this money, even if it will come with strings and expectations and the constant spectre of fucking Benedict Dalton.
“Now. On to Only Fangs,” he says and I stiffen in anticipation. This is it. “I think we can all agree that the very idea of a vampire only dating site is rather excellent. Using the human’s technology against them to grow our own vampire empire.”
He’s obviously missing the point entirely – Only Fangs is about finding love and connection not some weird middle finger to point at the humans – but I grit my teeth.
“And many of you agreed with me. I’m delighted to announce that the venture has been fully subscribed.”
We get exactly what we asked for. Every single penny.
“Fuck yeah,” I say as I turn to Brody. He looks ecstatic, like he might actually burst with happiness at any moment. He circles his arm around my waist and pulls me closer.
“We fucking did it.”
His lips are centimetres from mine. How easy it would be to close the distance and kiss him. But we’re in public and this is technically a business meeting and I can already feel someone’s eyes on me. Watching me. It sends a shiver up my spine. And not in the good way being with Brody does.
I turn around and there he is. Benedict Dalton. He smiles that slow languid smile at me and I want to smash his stupid face in. Why is he watching me like that? As if he’s waiting to pounce.
A waitress breaks the tension with champagne. Brody reaches for one and I catch a glimpse of the reflection of his arm in the pewter of the tray. I swallow and my eyes dart to Benedict. Did he notice?
Twenty minutes later my exuberance with the champagne catches up with me and I’m forced to excuse myself to go to the bathroom.
“So then, Miss Haywood,” Benedict is leaning against the wall just outside the women’s powder room.
I ignore him and walk past, but he grabs my wrist and turns me to face him.
“Not so fast.”
“Let go of me,” I demand. “You’re hurting me.”
“I know what he is.”
The words slice through me like daggers but I keep up the pretence. “What are you talking about?”
“Your paramour.”
I want to laugh at the use of such an antiquated term – and one with such connotations in vampire culture – but Benedict isn’t joking. He means it in all its insulting glory. He may as well have called me a whore.
“Do you mean Brody, my business partner?” I ask him primly.
“Business partner.” Even that sounds like a slur on his tongue.
“What do you want?” I demand.
He runs his hands through his black hair, styled into a more formal version of the modern vampire quiff.
It springs back into place perfectly. He always did have annoyingly amazing hair, thick and lustrous and never a single strand out of place, like it was made of Lego or something.
An image of Brody pops into my head, the way his hair was mussed as I pulled away from kissing him, standing up at all angles like a halo.
But the image shatters as I hear Benedict’s words. “Your business partner is human.”
“Ha.” I inject as much derision into the word as I can, as if the idea is so preposterous it’s not worth taking seriously for even a second.
“What do you think Mr Hele will do when he finds out?” He pokes his tongue out of the side of his mouth as he appraises me, a snake coiled to strike at his prey.
I fucking hate Benedict Dalton. “I don’t know what the hell you were thinking, bringing him here like that.
” He makes this tsk-tsk noise, the same one he always used to make when I did something he didn’t approve of.
And believe me there was always something he didn’t approve of.
I take a breath, fisting my hands at my sides so I don’t smack him in the face. But Jesus Christ I want to. I want to feel that nose crunch against my knuckles. I’m not normally prone to violence but for this prick I would make an exception. “Just tell me what you want, Benedict.”
He looks me up and down, taking his time, letting his gaze linger on my curves. I stand steadfast, desperate not to show how he makes me want to vomit when he looks at me like that. “You know what I want. I want you, Ari.”
But when he says he wants me, he doesn’t mean in a sex way. Or even in a relationship way. He means he wants me as a plaything, a doll he can break. He’s already broken me once and I lost almost everything escaping him.
“Fuck you, Benedict,” I whisper and slip past him into the bathroom. The cubicle on the far left has a secret panel inside and I use it to slip back to the party without having to walk past him again.
He can’t know for sure about Brody; that I’m convinced of. We’ve done everything to keep the charade going and I think we’ve got everyone fooled. No, he’s just trying to mess with me. But I’m not the same woman I was back then. I’m stronger. More capable.
Are you? The haunting voice in the back of my mind decides now is the time to make herself heard.
Maybe she’s right. After all, I did make the deal. Yes I was desperate, but ultimately this whole mess is my doing.
I find Brody back in the crowd.
“You OK?” he whispers in my ear, voice full of concern.
“Fine,” I reply and flash him a smile. I’ve decided the best way to deal with the whole Benedict situation is to ignore him. I’ll just pretend he doesn’t bother me, that nothing he says makes any impact on me at all. If I don’t play his games he’ll get bored and move on to another victim.
There’s a sense of something in the air, a crackle of expectation. We’re all waiting for the great Andrei Hele speech to round off the evening, but it feels like everyone is starting to get bored.
And then he walks out onto the stage. A pedestal has been placed for him to stand behind and there’s something almost pulpit-esque about the set up.
He looks like a preacher who’s about to give a sermon to his faithful flock.
A shiver runs up my spine. He really does think of himself as a messiah.
The way some people believe the rumours he’s the very first, the father of all vampires, doesn’t seem quite so far-fetched when I see him like this.
“Brothers and sisters,” he says, spreading his arms wide. There’s a low cheer from the crowd. Wow, they all really do revere him, the outpouring of devotion is palpable. It’s creepy and weird and the shiver intensifies.