Chapter Ten
After sleeping the day away, Charlotte opened her eyes to the dimly lit room and glanced at the window. Through the crack in the curtains, she watched the horizon swallow the last of the sun's rays, leaving behind a dark purple sky.
She smiled when Duke snored from the bottom of the bed, his claws curling out against the soft sheets when he meowed in his sleep, his eyes restless from a dream. The scent of the single rose wafted over from the dresser, and she remembered she hadn’t put it in any water.
“Sorry,” she whispered to the flower after climbing out of bed and placing it in a vase with the bouquet that had been there since she arrived.
Carefully, she pulled a petal between her fingers, rubbing the soft texture.
She still wasn’t sure the real reason he had brought her the flower last night, but she couldn’t let one gesture get in the way of what needed to happen.
She would not feel guilty about betraying a man who would easily kill her if he knew the truth.
She had two days left until the ball, enough time to sabotage their plans so the Avery family would live.
While they were alive, Nathaniel would not perform the ritual out of fear of what they would do to him when he was mortal and weak.
If she could postpone the ball, then she could find a way to escape, not that she had anywhere to go.
Even if she somehow made it out of there, she couldn’t go home.
It would be the first place both the witches and vampires searched for her, and she didn’t know or trust anyone else to take her in.
She was entirely alone, but she did have her magic.
There is another escape from all this suffering. One jump and it will all be over.
The voice rushed into her ears.
“I do not want to die,” she whispered aloud, recalling Nathaniel’s words. It was just a lingering effect from the trauma of the massacre, that was all.
No, you want to die. You crave it.
"I don’t!" she said, a shiver running through her as the unseen thing brushed against her, raising the hairs on her neck. A full-body shudder ran through her. Just when she was ready to scream as the echo from the voice’s words grew louder, a knock sounded at the door, slicing through the noise in her mind.
“C-come in,” she spluttered, leaning forward against the dresser before brushing the creases in her nightdress and plastering on a feigned smile.
Duke jolted awake, his eyes scanning the room. When he saw Hartley walk through the door, holding a tray of food, a lit candle, and the supplies she’d requested, he let out a soft meow and fell back asleep.
“Good evening, Miss. Did you sleep well?”
Charlotte stretched out her limbs and rolled her aching ankles. “I wish I could have slept longer.”
Hartley smiled and placed the tray on the small table in front of the unlit, black ornate fireplace.
A gust of cold air howled down the chimney and fluttered the edges of a piece of parchment folded on the edge of the tray.
“Lord Sallow has requested your presence this evening, in the ballroom. I have your dress here.” She hurried to the door, and before Charlotte could question why he possibly wanted to see her there, Hartley returned with a dress on a hanger, folded over her arm.
Antique, black lace hung in tatters at the sleeve, and the silk fabric shone under the candlelight.
Charlotte leaned forward, clearing her throat. “Is that from Natha—I mean, Lord Sallow?”
“Yes.” Her cheeks reddened, her eyes twinkling.
“He wants to dance with me?”
“Indeed, he does, Miss.”
She was going to kill those butterflies that kept swarming at his gestures. “It’s just in preparation,” she said when Hartley suppressed a grin. “For the slaughter ball.”
Hartley snorted. “Is that what we are calling it now?”
“What would you call it? It’ll be filled with death.”
“Yet another rich society party,” she added.
“You’d be surprised at how many people go missing at these events.
” She reached down to the tray and picked up the parcel of lavender, mint and a glass bottle of witch hazel.
“I don’t have much experience in creating potions, but I hope this will be enough. ”
“It’s not a potion,” Charlotte interrupted, wild-eyed. “I’m not doing witchcraft.”
Hartley tilted her head, her ashy-blonde ringlets bouncing on her forehead from under her white cap. “Excuse me for being too forward, but you have nothing to feel ashamed if you were. I wish I was one sometimes.”
“Well, you also want to be a vampire, so,” Charlotte quipped without thinking and immediately regretted her statement.
“You make it sound like a bad thing.”
She bit her lip and sat forward. “I apologize. That is not what I meant. I’ve considered it too you know—immortality that is. It would be a relief from the constant aches in my body, but I just cannot get past the idea of killing innocents and the idea of drinking blood.”
Hartley nodded, her eyes lighting. “You don’t have to murder good people, Miss. The world is filled with evil men, so tear their throats instead and as for the drinking of blood part, from what I have witnessed, it tastes better to them than food does to us.”
“Is that why you want to become one?”
“I have a problem with my heart, you see. Doctors say I won’t last long. My ma had a priest come and read last rites to me as a kid. I shouldn’t have survived as long as I have. I can die any moment.”
“I’m so sorry. I wish I could help.”
“No one can. Nathaniel will turn me this year, though. I’m sure. I’ve worked harder than all the rest.”
Her stomach knotted. Hartley had no idea what they were planning. “Do you know why I’m here?” she asked.
“To help Lord Sallow break his curse,” she said. “At least, that’s what I’ve picked up on. I only hope he will turn me before. If not, I suppose Alexander still can.”
Charlotte chewed on her bottom lip. Breaking his curse meant breaking all the curses. Fortunately for Hartley, she had no plans of doing that. But she hated them a little more for using her like that and giving her false hope. “Do they at least pay you?”
“Better than the other households.”
“With the promise of immortality.”
“They never promised it,” she said, chewing over her words. “He just lets us know there may be a chance.”
“Does he know about your condition?”
“No. I rarely speak to him. He doesn’t much like people.”
Charlotte shrugged. “Well, I don’t think they like him either.”
She smiled, her cheeks balling. “Don’t let him hear you saying that.”
“He can’t hurt me,” Charlotte pointed out with a smirk, then asked, “You said Nathaniel chooses staff members to become vampires. Do you know anyone else he’s turned?”
“Oh, yes!” Her smile widened as she recited their names. “Irene Long was the last. Bright woman. Smart. She was a maid. Before her, the last one I knew of was Zachariah. Handsome devil he is, but amusing.”
Her heart stumbled a little. “Where are they now?”
“In London. Sometimes they come here, especially for The Hunt.”
“I saw that somewhere,” she said. “What exactly is it?”
Her face flushed, the redness fading the freckles on her balled cheeks.
“It is like a game of hide and seek. Alexander started it actually, to appease the other vampires and ensure their loyalty. The predators wear masks as do the prey and after a head start, they chase them through the manor and grounds.”
She thought back to the card she’d found reading prey. “Why would anyone choose to be prey?”
“Some like it, but mostly because the winner gets their request granted by Nathaniel. Most ask for money. Others—the smart ones—ask for immortality.”
“He always grants them there wish then?”
“His word is his honor. He never breaks it.”
“What do the vampires get from it?”
She held her breath for a moment before saying, “The thrill of the hunt.”
“Let me guess, once they catch their prey, they kill them?”
She looked at her lap. “Sometimes. He likes when witches take part, especially when they make it difficult for him.”
“How so?”
“Well, magic is forbidden to be used on the predators, but that doesn’t mean they can’t use it to cast illusions to get away.”
“Why do you not take part?”
“I won’t win,” she said with a laugh. “I have no powers. I’d be found in an instant. Besides, I’d rather earn eternal life through servitude.”
“I see.”
Hartley stood and fiddled a little with the tray, before heading for the bathing room door. “I will prepare a bath for you before you dress to meet with Lord Sallow.”
“Thank you,” Charlotte replied, lost in thought.
That was it, her way out.
If she could somehow persuade them to let her take part in The Hunt, she could win and ask for her freedom, or at least allow her to live out her life before she sacrificed herself in old age.
For the first time since arriving, her entire body charged with hope.
First, she needed to gain his trust, to see if she could figure out what it is he wanted, other than mortality.
After all, she needed something to bargain with.
She climbed off the bed and grabbed the note from the tray. It was from Nathaniel.
Meet me in the ballroom at midnight. I hope you like the dress.
Her eyes widened as she read and re-read it to make sure she hadn’t hallucinated the words. He hoped she liked the dress? Since when did he care what she thought?
She ran her index finger along the torn edge of the parchment.
With the ball just around the corner and the end of his curse in sight, it would make sense that he would want her to feel safe, so she would keep her end of their deal.
Despite her already agreeing, why not butter her up to ensure her loyalty?
With a shake of her head, she walked into the bathroom in time to see Hartley finishing adding oatmeal and rose petals to the water.
“Enjoy your bath, Miss,” she said and left the room.
Charlotte breathed in the evocative scent of honey and lavender, intermixed with the faint scent of wax from the candles flickering on every surface.
She undressed before settling into the porcelain tub, her fingers gripping the edges.
Pillars of steam swirled over the hot water as it enveloped her aching muscles, eliciting a soft sigh.
She sank deeper into the water until only her head was poking out. The water lapped around the sides of the tubs, almost overflowing when she shifted her torso.
Across from the bath, on the vanity stool, she eyed the note with a grimace. She wasn’t going to rush her bath. It was the first time she’d felt any relief from the constant pain in her body. If he wanted to dance with her, then he was going to have to wait.
She grabbed the jasmine-scented soap and worked the lather into her dark curls, kneading her fingers into her scalp. She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes. The seconds stretched into minutes as she dipped her head back, her ears plunging into the water, as she rinsed the soap from her hair.
She sat upright and opened her eyes, the reflection in the darkened arched window catching her breath. The water splashed around when she jolted.
Her own horrified expression stared back at her, and beside her, a woman stood next to the tub, her black dress and long, dark hair saturated with water.
A small pool formed at the ghost's bare feet, but there was nothing there.
She took a second to glance away from the window and wiped the water from her eyes.
When she looked back at the reflection, the spirit turned to face the window, its all-white eyes latching onto Charlotte’s, its gaunt mouth widening in an eerie, humorless smile.
The voice echoed around her skull, one that was not her own intrusive thoughts.
You can see me. I’m getting closer.
What the bloody hell did that mean?
The voice sounded excited, and it had come from the spirit judging by her unnaturally wide grin.
Duke let out a hiss from the next room, his paw batting under the closed bathroom door.
Charlotte quickly jumped out of the bath, almost slipping on the water on the floor, and reached for her towel.
She side-eyed the window, her heart palpitating when she saw the spirit follow her to the door.
Flinging it open, she ran out. Duke darted ahead of her, his ears tucked back.
After a few minutes, and once Duke was calm, she tiptoed back to the bathroom door and peered inside. There was nothing there, nor in the reflection of the window.
“Did you scare her away?” she asked, picking Duke up and holding him against her towel.
With a thick swallow, she stroked his head and looked at the bathtub.
“The ghosts haunting this place are going to be the death of me.” His pulse picked up under her fingers.
“It’s okay, Duke. They can’t hurt the living. ”
She almost believed her own words, but this time it felt different. The spirit was excited, and she’d never felt such an absence of humanity from a person’s aura before.
A throbbing sensation pulsed in her hip, distracting her from the flurry of dark thoughts.
With a tense breath, she set Duke on the bed and lifted her towel.
Angling her hips, she noticed the bite was worse than before.
The necrotic center had darkened, and blue veins had spread outward, each one thicker and longer than yesterday.
Duke’s yellow eyes widened, and he rushed to the edge of the mattress, nudging his nose against the mark repeatedly.
“I know, it’s bad,” Charlotte stated and bit the inside of her cheek. “I’m going to make an ointment to put on it.”
Duke meowed, shooting her a concerned look.
“Honestly. It will be okay.”
He meowed again.
Leaning over the tray, she ground the lavender and mint, slowly adding it to the half-filled bottle of witch hazel.
“See, I already feel it working,” she said when she rubbed it over the mark. “Now, I need to go see Nathaniel, so I can hopefully find us a way out of this mess.”
Duke dragged his paw over his ear and tilted his head.
Quickly lacing her corset and pulling the strings taut, she pulled on her dress, ready to face the next monster.