Chapter Six
“Death is coming.”
Charlotte sat upright, panic surging through her as she awoke to darkness, her hair plastered to her forehead with sweat. She tried to recall the dream that had her spluttering those three words, but the more she tried, the faster it slipped away.
She gripped the sheets and glanced around at the shadows of the monochrome furniture across from the four-poster bed. While she couldn’t remember what had happened in the dream to so violently jolt her awake, she couldn’t shake the sense of doom building in the pit of her stomach.
The faint scent of lavender wafted into her lungs, and she grabbed the side of the mattress.
For a moment, she’d forgotten where she was and who she was with.
She looked around for any sign of the vampire, but there was no one else with her.
Aside from the gentle patter of rain against the windows, everything was silent—too silent, as if the house had forgotten to breathe.
Or perhaps she had gotten so used to the creaking floorboards and groaning walls of Lovett Manor.
Slowly, she brought her fingers to her throat, surprised to find nothing there.
The pain was gone, along with any evidence that Nathaniel had bitten her and invaded her memories.
The thought of him perusing her head and peering into the more vulnerable corners of her mind welled up a rage so potent in her core that she fisted the blankets and clenched her jaw.
Her eyes drifted to the drapes and the sliver of moonlight peeking through, just enough to illuminate a path to the dresser. Dust motes floated in the peppered, white light, and she watched them, thinking only of the vampire and his fangs on her throat.
She reached for the locket around her neck. It was the only thing she had left. The witches likely took everything in the manor after they found she’d escaped, or worse. Painted scenes appeared in her mind’s eye of the bloodbath that likely awaited her back home.
Tears pricked her eyes. She didn’t want any of this, but death seemed to follow her wherever she went.
Chills ran over her bare arms, as if the air was thick with something unseen and it was crawling all over her.
Before she could dissolve into a panicked mess over the events of the night, the floorboard creaked beside her bed and her eyes widened.
She didn’t move and held her breath, listening intently to the sound of something dragging itself over the floorboards and over to her window.
A woman’s soft voice spoke into her mind, the sound a familiar, sickly sweet whisper.
End it now, before they torture you.
She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. A full-body shudder ran through her back, arms, and legs.
Click.
Her eyes widened when the glass of the window rattled as the latch opened. Slowly, it swung open, and a gust of cold air swept into the room.
The voice floated in again, but the tone deepened, now disconnected and broken in places.
There is nothing to be afraid of. Death is freedom. The voice said all too sweetly. You crave it, and it craves you. End your suffering.
Her toes curled against the linen, fingers gripping the blankets. Charlotte glared at the door, suddenly desperate for the vampire to return.
The dream suddenly splashed into her mind like icy water. Her dead mother was reaching through the bars of the graveyard, desperately trying to get out. It was Alice who had warned her in the nightmare, telling her the witches were coming.
No, that they were already there. That she was already dying.
She threw the covers off her body but was too late. Cold, invisible palms pressed against her cheeks before releasing her. The stench of sulfur wafted through the room, forcing bile into her throat. The voice spoke again, the sound echoing in her head.
Just one jump and all of this will be over. You can be with your family again.
Her scream came out as a dry, raspy gurgle.
No matter how hard she tried to yell for help, nothing was coming out.
Trying to move was like wading through water.
Every movement was slow, and her body was heavier than usual.
Her limbs moved of their own accord, as if they were attached to invisible puppet strings.
With a tumble, she fell off the bed, her body crawling toward the open window.
She didn’t want to die. No matter how painful life could be, she did not want it to end.
A surge of fire spiked through her, the same one that she’d felt the night her father believed he'd killed her. She could have gotten up to help Alice, but she didn’t.
Instead, she played dead, frozen and weak, watching when her sister took her last breath.
Because she wanted to survive, and by the look on her father’s face, nothing could have stopped him. Not her. Not Alice. Nothing.
At least, that’s what she told herself.
The voice spoke again, responding to her thoughts in a way that made Charlotte’s stomach turn.
Do not feel guilty. You can be with her now. Alice is waiting for you. She misses you.
Her nails cut into the floorboards, splintering wood as she dragged them, bleeding, trying to fight against the invisible tether pulling her.
Help! The words formed in her mind, even danced on her tongue, but she could not form them into a sound.
“No!”
The plead came out in a choked cough. The weight in her chest turned to air, and she flopped onto the floor. A gas lamp flickered into her room, scaring away the creeping blackness around her.
“Help,” she croaked in a half-cry.
She turned, expecting to see Nathaniel, but spotted a willowy man with refined facial features, high cheekbones, golden-blond hair and forest-green eyes.
“Why are you on the floor?” he asked, in a smooth, vibrant voice.
“Something was here. It was trying to get me to jump out the window.” She placed several feet between the glass and her, her heart palpitating when she noticed it was closed.
Her brows deepened the line on the bridge of her nose. “It was open.”
“Perhaps you were dreaming.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Are you certain?”
She shook her head. “Yes. If I was, then why am I on the floor?”
“That was my question.”
She didn’t like the amused edge in his tone. “Are you human?”
His eyes flashed brighter. “Once upon a time.”
She ran cold. There was more of them. “Oh, God.”
“I’m afraid not, but it’s an easy mistake to make. We are both beings intent on causing pain and suffering.”
While she no longer knew where she stood with religion, she didn’t appreciate his words. “You compare yourself to God?”
A boyish smile deepened his dimples. “No, no. I am far kinder.”
She knew he was only teasing her, but she grimaced all the same. “I highly doubt that.”
He smirked as if he was enjoying the interaction. These vampires were insane. “Who are you?”
“Alexander Young,” he announced as if he was entertaining an audience. “I am Nathaniel's close friend. My aim is to make you feel comfortable here.”
She scoffed. “An arduous task.”
He took a step closer, his demeanor suggesting he enjoyed making her nervous despite stating otherwise. “One I am intent upon. We need you, so you need not be afraid. I am not going to hurt you.”
“I am not scared,” she lied, only to see his reaction, but there was not an ounce of anger etched into his soft features. Only curiosity.
“Then you have the heart of a hummingbird.”
“I was just attacked,” she said, surprised at how easily her remarks were spilling from her lips.
“By a nightmare,” he taunted, the words rolling off his tongue.
She glanced over her shoulder, seeing nothing in the room. Whatever was haunting her had gone, but she couldn’t escape the uneasiness in her stomach. There was no way she wanted to remain alone in the room.
A loud gurgle broke the brief silence, and Alexander’s eyes dropped to her stomach. “Are you hungry?”
“Not really. My appetite disappeared when your friend sank his fangs into my neck earlier.”
He tilted his head. “Your body does not lie, my dear. I will send for some food from the kitchen.”
“I assumed you would only have blood stored there.”
Yet again, he did not react to her comment and some of the tension in her jaw dissolved. “No. I prefer to drink from the source.”
She tried not to make another face. Unsuccessfully.
“We have human staff here,” he said when she didn’t respond. “They require feeding. Let us find one of them so you do not pass away from starvation.”
She followed Alexander out of her bedroom, hurrying her pace to catch up with him and the light he carried.
They didn’t talk on the way down the halls, but she used that time to observe him, from his elegant, arrogant stride to his manicured nails and silky blond hair that grazed his shoulders.
He took pride in his appearance. That much was obvious from the tailored, embroidered knee-length frock coat complete with red and gold stripes, and gold silk bow tie.
With Nathaniel, she’d been certain the attraction and magnetic pull was all part of some vampire charm to lure her in.
Yet, with Alexander, she didn’t feel any of that.
While he was conventionally good-looking and had a certain panache about him, his presence didn’t make her skin tingle like Nathaniel’s did.
Shaking her head to scatter those unwanted, dangerous thoughts, she focused ahead, the sharp pain searing through her legs making her wince.
Alexander had obviously slowed his pace for her but was still too fast. Her body still hadn’t recovered from yesterday.
Every muscle in her calves were tight, and her knees felt as if they might buckle at any moment.
He veered into a narrowing, dimly lit corridor finished with baroque black wallpaper and large oil paintings, and she stopped, unable to keep up the pretense of being fine.
“Please. I need a moment,” she said breathlessly when it became too much. Leaning against the black chair rail, she let out a long exhale.