Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

T he next day, I begged off going down to tea, claiming a headache. I needed some time alone to examine Cecelia's room, and I wasn't sure I would get it otherwise. It had been easy enough to discover which room was hers. I'd simply asked a servant the previous night under the guise of checking up on her.

I loitered in the hall, sitting at a windowsill with a book in hand as I waited for a maid to finish her work in Cecelia's room. She didn't even look my way as she finished and moved on to the next room. I skulked up to the bedchamber, and with a quick glance around, stepped inside, shutting the door soundlessly behind me. I let out a breath as I leaned back against it, taking in the room, bed freshly made by the maid. This search would prove less involved than the ones at Hemlock Manor, given that Cecelia had kept her packed belongings to a minimum. But any worthwhile vampire hunter would keep the essentials on them at all times. I quickly got to work rifling through her trunks, then the bureau. She had many books on her, quite the opposite of the piles of accessories Isabel had prized. Her wardrobe was rather drab. Mostly black with splashes of color. The dresses were at least cut nicely, with fine details, but they weren't to my taste.

In the end, my efforts proved fruitless. Nothing indicated Cecelia was a hunter any more than Isabel or the boys I'd suspected previously. I was about to give up, when I noticed a paper on her nightstand.

I perched on the edge of the bed and held the paper up to the light streaming into the room. It was a list of questions. "Where is Emmett?" was at the top of the list, followed by "Who tried to kidnap Maxwell?" and "Who shot at me during the hunt, and why?"

So, she was trying to puzzle through some of the strange goings-on as well. She was clearly bothered if she'd set quill to paper last night. I suppose getting shot at would do that. But if she didn't know who attempted to kidnap Maxwell, it was likely that she didn't know the robed men. That might rule her out.

The final question she'd written gave me pause: "Why did Melbourne lie to Lucian?"

My eyebrows knit together as I attempted to recall any conversations with him where I'd posed a question, but came up empty. He seemed a fairly transparent chap, but even fools could hunt monsters, I supposed, so why not Melbourne?

I would have to figure out which room was his next.

As I stepped out of Cecelia's chambers, closing the door quietly at my back, two figures rounded the corner, and I froze, startled by Maxwell and Ambrose.

"Oh," I said, trying to cover my guilt with a shaky smile. "I was about to see if Cecelia had come up after tea."

"It only just concluded," Ambrose said, sending a curious glance at the door.

"We just came to see how you were faring," Maxwell said, giving me a once-over. "You look a little pale yet."

I waved away his concern. "I'm always pale. And my head feels much better, thank you."

"Then you must join us in the parlor."

"It would be my pleasure."

"Did you enjoy the hunt?" Ambrose asked as we made our way up the hall.

"I did. Not as much as you, however."

He grinned. "I get rather competitive, don't I? It's just thrilling."

"Those poor beasts," Maxwell sighed. "Does it ever bother you, killing those things?"

"Not particularly. Why? Does it bother you?"

"A little. But they're like vampires, I suppose. They look like animals, but they're something unnatural."

I stiffened, heart stuttering. "Vampires are animals to you?"

Maxwell shrugged as we entered the parlor and claimed a sofa at the back of the room. "Not quite. But they're a far cry from human."

"I'd much rather hunt down vampires," Ambrose said, toothy grin widening. "That would be some real sport."

"They used to be human once," I pointed out, shifting in my seat. I didn't know why I cared what they thought of vampires. Most humans hated my kind. We were their boogeymen. Yet I couldn't help but take their outlooks personally. "Doesn't that bother you? They could have been your neighbors."

"Whatever part of them were our neighbors departed their bodies long ago. Now, they are only inhabited by demons."

"You don't believe they think like humans?"

Ambrose blinked, leaning back to run his hands over the drapes that grazed his chair. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe. But they aren't. They have the memories of humans perhaps, but they have no souls. They act like us to prey upon us. They wear our bodies like one would wear a coat."

I thought of how I used to simulate breathing to blend in better with humans. I had been so cold and emotionless, feeling little regret after killing. Was that because my soul had vacated my body? Had it been restored by Vrykolakas when I'd become human? Was that the difference between us, why I felt so much now? Or was it because I was getting to know these humans?

A hand on my knee startled me, and I stared back at the concern in Maxwell's eyes. "It's that vampire we came across on Old Mill Road, isn't it? The encounter bothered you."

"No, it's nothing of the sort," I insisted, attempting to blow it off. "I didn't know her well."

"Still," Maxwell said, removing his hand. "I don't know how I would react if someone I knew was turned. We're all taught to watch for the signs, and we're prepared for the eventuality, but I doubt it could truly ready us for a confrontation with a familiar face wanting nothing more than to kill us."

Ambrose stood abruptly, glancing at his watch. "And that's the sort of thinking that could get you killed. You can't hesitate. Knowing that killing a vampire will allow a loved one to meet their eternal rest should be more than enough incentive to perform the act." He must have seen something in my gaze, for he hesitated. "It's … unfortunate that the world is so cruel. It forces us to harden our hearts to protect ourselves. But we must be vigilant, or the plague of undead will spread to even more loved ones." The chime of a clock up the hall roused Ambrose, and he sent an apologetic smile my way. "I apologize. I thought I had more time."

"I know you're busy." I couldn't very well tell him that I was glad to see him go, given his view on vampires.

Ambrose nodded, mouth tight. His eyes were shrewd as they searched mine. "Save a dance for me tonight."

A sour mood was taking hold, and a ball seemed like the last thing I wanted to partake in, but I nodded, pushing past my foul disposition. This boy was a means to reclaiming my immortality. I could stomach his company in that pursuit, even if it rankled me how he had commanded me to dance with him, rather than asked. I forced a smile onto my lips, as if the thought of dancing with him had rekindled my joy, like he was the sun of my universe. "Nothing would make me happier."

Despite myself, I wished Helena was here to counsel me. I missed her company. She was usually good for stroking my ego, but even when she had something to say that I didn't like, it was comforting. But that had all been an act, hadn't it? I clearly hadn't known her as well as I thought I had.

I wanted someone to talk to in frank terms. Even Beezle would have been welcome. But alas, I was alone with my thoughts as I reflected on the boy I was to seduce. He was pleasing to look at, but that was the extent of his charms. And the way he'd spoken about vampires had gotten under my skin. The way Maxwell had spoken of them had as well. If they knew what I'd been, what I still was deep down, would they think me a monster as well? And worse, would they be wrong?

I grabbed a cracker with caviar from a tray as it passed, my third one, and washed it down with champagne. Guests were beginning to flow into the ballroom of Foxglove Abbey, several families from neighboring houses, but no one of import had made their appearance yet. I was anxious to have this night behind me, to put on the show necessary to take one step closer toward my goal.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

I blinked, turning to Cecelia, who sipped daintily from a champagne flute. I hadn't heard her approach. I needed to be more aware of my surroundings. I was usually sharper than this, but I was becoming distracted. Those damned feelings getting the best of me again.

I gestured to the room at large. "Just observing. It's an interesting setup." And it was. The ballroom had one large open area for dancing, with high-topped tables at the periphery. The three walls not connected to the rest of the house had alcoves obscured by large twin pillars, allowing for some privacy in smaller gathering areas. Two of those alcoves were set up with tables and chairs, while the third was occupied by musicians. A pianoforte was played by a pretty blonde girl and accompanied by a string quartet of men. Unfortunately, the girl stumbled over her notes every so often, and with my ear of music, I couldn't help but wince with each misstep.

"Foxglove Abbey is a lovely house," Cecelia said with a nod. She looked radiant in a red dress with spikes on her shoulders, but I could tell her confidence had waned with the events of the previous evening. She didn't seem comfortable in this setting as she sent me a hesitant smile. "Perhaps you would do me the honor of a dance at some point? I would enjoy catching up. I feel like I haven't seen much of you these past few days."

I considered. This presented me with an opportunity to ensure she didn't recover from her humiliation. Doubt would snuff out whatever remaining ambition she had if I played my cards right. "Do you promise not to get mud on my shoes?"

Cecelia's smile faltered. "That isn't funny."

I held up my hands innocently. "It was a stupid joke. I apologize. We've all made fools of ourselves now and then, haven't we? You should put the whole incident behind you. I'm sure Ambrose has. In fact, he had a bit of trouble getting down from his horse, but I don't think anyone noticed since they were so distracted." I paused, as if to consider her. "Was that your first time hunting? I know you're good with a bow, but perhaps that doesn't translate. Or perhaps you aren't used to riding?"

"I didn't just fall off my horse." Cecelia sighed heavily. "Never mind. It sounds like an excuse."

"What does? You shouldn't be embarrassed. Not everyone can be good with horses. Perhaps you got a bad one?"

"It wasn't the horse."

I noticed the distress in her eyes, and immediately regretted my teasing. She wasn't my enemy. Yes, I needed her out of the competition, but I found no pleasure in berating her. Her ego had been bruised enough for now.

"What about horses?" Violetta asked as she joined us, Isabel at her side.

"Nothing," I said, gesturing to Cecelia. "We were just talking about last night. How we can … move on and do better next time."

Violetta nodded solemnly, touching Cecelia's shoulder. "We should always try to better ourselves. It's so brave of you to admit your shortcomings."

Cecelia looked affronted, and she actually glared at me. "You should think more highly of your friends, Lucian." Then she stomped off into one of the alcoves.

I winced.

"I never should have doubted you," Isabel told me, shaking her head incredulously. "I'm impressed. I'm also going to watch my back around you."

Violetta frowned, eyes narrowing at me. "You were playing with her."

I hesitated, taking another sip of my drink. "I needn't have bothered. I think the poor dear was really thrown by the circumstances and hasn't quite recovered."

Isabel sniffed. "I think you and I both know that whatever it takes to come out on top is worth the effort." She clinked my glass with hers. "But remember our deal, Lucian. It's everyone for themselves from here on out."

I held her gaze. "Don't forget that you owe me."

She brightened. "Ah, yes, about that. You seemed interested in the girl I saw Emmett with."

I straightened, heart skipping, although I didn't want to show just how valuable the information had been. "What of it?"

"Well, maybe I can repay you with a secret."

I took a step closer, holding my breath. "A secret? Color me intrigued."

She glanced at Violetta, then leaned in to whisper at my ear. "The girl is here. I saw her just a few minutes ago."

I jerked back, startled. "Truly?"

"Shush," Isabel hissed, frowning as Violetta rolled her eyes and backed away a few steps to give us privacy. She licked her lips and proceeded in a low voice. "I can point her out to you when I see her next. Will that do?"

I tried for a nonchalant shrug. "I suppose it will. I do enjoy gossip." I cocked my head. "Perhaps you could answer something else for me as well. That would make us even."

She quirked an eyebrow. "Very well. What is it?"

"Have you seen a symbol before, of a red moth?"

Isabel cocked her head. "A red moth? Why, no."

"I have," Violetta blurted, taking a step closer and throwing a look back over her shoulder, as if to ensure we weren't being overheard.

My eyes snapped to hers. "You have? Where?"

Isabel frowned, pressing Violetta's hand. "You don't have to say anything more if you don't want to."

"It's alright. I want to help." Violetta covered Isabel's hand with her other as she turned to me. "It was emblazoned on one of Melbourne's coats. I thought it odd. What does it mean, anyway?"

"What is this all about?" Isabel asked.

"I don't know," I said, heart hammering. Melbourne. That was what Cecelia had meant in her list. I recalled how I'd put the same question about the moth to the two of them, and Melbourne had said he thought it seemed familiar, but didn't recall from where. That also meant that Cecelia had held her tongue, for his sake, but more importantly, that Melbourne was connected to the vampire hunters. I'd finally found an in to the information I needed. "Only something I'd heard," I said vaguely. "Some secret club."

Violetta didn't look convinced, but Isabel seemed content to let the matter drop. "If you want to join some boys' club, that's your business, but I imagine any club that welcomes Melbourne would be of ill repute. I would reconsider." She sniffed. "I'll signal you to dance when I see the girl next. I'll point her out to you then, and then my debt is paid in full."

"Very good."

I watched Isabel and Violetta depart, then turned to look wistfully out at the night beyond the windows. It was already stuffy in here, especially with the pianist fumbling so often. She was becoming more competent as her confidence built, but at this rate, it would take all night to resemble anything like art.

"You look like you want to escape."

I smiled at Maxwell's voice, turning to find him with Zachariah and Flora.

"I heard you might have been a little under the weather still," Flora said, looking me over with concern. "You do look a little tired, my dear. If you need to cut the night short, we'll understand."

Zachariah nodded. "You only recovered from your fever a few days ago."

"I'm made of sterner stuff than that," I said cheerfully. "And I feel rather reinvigorated by that hunt. Quite fun, wasn't it?"

Maxwell looked skeptical, but Flora nodded vigorously. "You boys did such a fine job," she said.

"Ambrose beat us all handily," I said, shrugging. "But I wouldn't have expected any less. The duke must be proud." I glanced around for him.

"He's too ill to join us tonight," Maxwell said. "He shouldn't have made the trip."

"We did try to talk him out of it, but he can be a stubborn fool." Flora sighed. "Family means so much to him."

Maxwell pursed his lips at her words. "It's a shame Emmett isn't here with us."

Flora smiled wistfully. "I expect him to return any day now." Her eyelid twitched as she said this, and I wondered just how worried she was now that the days without him had stretched on for so long. It had to be exhausting being plagued by doubt surrounding the circumstances of his absence.

"His new art is interesting," Zachariah spoke up.

Flora sent him a questioning look. "New art?"

Zachariah nodded. "It's rather morbid imagery honestly, but still quite nice."

"He's very good," I added.

Flora glanced back at Maxwell. "When was this?"

Maxwell shrugged. "I showed them earlier this week."

"I mean, when did Emmett create this new art?"

"He must have been doing it for the last few weeks. I believe it's inspired by Father's books on reincarnation and the afterlife."

Flora chewed on her lower lip, brow furrowed in thought for a moment, before she sighed. "Well, lately the maids have seemed to always be putting away his piles of occult books."

Maxwell nodded. "Ambrose is usually the studious one."

"You never took an interest in the supernatural," Flora pointed out. "Your father always wished you would. He loves discussing it with Ambrose. A far cry from Emmett, disagreeing with all of Jonathan's opinions. But I rather think that was retaliation for how dismissive your father was of his art. It's probably a good thing that he took some time …" She roused herself. "In any case, I'm glad Emmett has followed his love of art. It makes him happy. I'd like to see his new art as well, but I'll wait for him to show me himself rather than intrude."

Maxwell ducked his head. "Sorry, Mother."

Flora patted his cheek. "You're just lucky you're so charming."

The room had begun to fill as we'd conversed, and I suddenly noticed the music had altogether stopped. Flora looked up, then smiled. "Ah, it's time then." She raised her champagne glass and struck it with the spoon a servant handed her, a loud tinkling breaking through the chatter of the room. As soon as she seemed to have everyone's attention, her smile widened. "The musicians have been playing so frequently that I thought it high time we gave them a night off. Wouldn't you agree, Maxwell?"

Maxwell straightened. "Of course, Mother." He sent her a quizzical look, but she gestured to the alcove, now empty, save the instruments the musicians had left behind. I squinted, noting many instruments piled at the back of the room that I hadn't noticed before.

"We will require entertainment, however," Flora continued. "And that entertainment will come from our dear guests. Doesn't that sound like fun?"

I blinked. Ah. A test of our ability to entertain. That would be an easy task for me, at least. I was well-versed in several of the instruments I spied in the alcove. Perhaps I could make myself the favorite of this competition yet.

"Cecelia Alvarez," Flora said, singling out the girl in the crowd. "Would you do the honor of getting things started? You can pick the next guest, and so on until everyone has had a turn."

Cecelia stepped forward and curtsied before making her way to the alcove. Everyone watched with rapt attention as she selected a cello. I approved of her choice. It was a large instrument, almost unwieldy, but would command the room if played correctly. Cecelia likely knew she had to be bold in order to win back any favor. That was why Flora had chosen her to go first, after all, to prove herself still worthy.

I held my breath as Cecelia maneuvered the cello to a chair at the front of the alcove and positioned herself behind it. Without sheet music, she would have to play by memory. That would likely be an obstacle for many in the room who were casual players.

And then she moved the bow over the strings. A deep, rich sound emanated from the instrument, and I closed my eyes as it washed over me. She was rather good. I didn't notice a single mistake as she drew to a finish and was met with soft applause. I wondered if she had redeemed herself, although I doubted it would be enough to completely overlook the previous night.

"Lucian Cross."

I blinked, looking up at Cecelia, who smiled back at me tightly.

"I choose you to go next," she said.

I raised an eyebrow and nodded. Of course, this was payback for being rude to her. But I was keen to get this performance behind me, so she'd rather done me a favor.

I stalked to the alcove and selected a few instruments to bring near the pianoforte.

I first sat down with a harp. I began the first movement to Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata." Written for the piano, I figured that playing it on another instrument would not only show range, but creativity. My fingers plucked assuredly across the strings as I closed my eyes, letting the music move through me. I'd had decades to memorize this piece of music, and it was my favorite, so it was like child's play.

A smattering of applause followed my performance, but I moved onto the pianoforte for the second movement, showcasing my skills with dramatic flair as my fingers danced across the ivory keys. I played the violin for the third movement, swaying as I ran the bow over strings in hurried movements, like a hummingbird's wings. As the final note hung in the air, I let out a breath and opened my eyes.

Flora's hands were clasped together. Zachariah was in awe. Even Cecelia looked impressed, although annoyed by that fact. The applause that followed was loud and made my heart swell. I'd rather enjoyed that. I'd truly felt the music. It had moved me, and I was happy to have shared that with my friends.

"Bravo, Lucian," Violetta congratulated as I stepped out from the alcove. She'd heard me play previously, so the praise was appreciated.

Maxwell was still clapping when I reached him. "That was … I had no idea."

I shrugged. "What can I say? I love music." I looked out over the crowd and selected one of the few suitors whose name I actually recalled. She shouldn't have remained in the competition as long as she had, and I had a feeling that anyone following me up would be intimidated and perhaps lose marks by comparison.

Flora was trying to remain neutral, but she kept sending me glances, like she'd just discovered something wonderful. I couldn't help the pride that warmed me.

"You are full of surprises," Maxwell breathed, patting my shoulder. "You made that look easy."

"It becomes easy with enough practice," I replied modestly. The way he was looking at me right now was making me feel giddy. I gestured back to the alcove. "Come, let's give her a chance as well."

Maxwell shook his head, but complied. Just then, I noticed Ambrose talking to Zachariah across the room. He was more animated than I'd seen him in days. Had he seen me perform? Or perhaps it was still the high from the hunt.

"Finally, he's here," Flora sighed with relief as she noted his appearance as well. "I thought he would be talking in the drawing room half the evening. We need to commence with the dancing."

"Who's he with?" Cecelia asked, craning her neck, and I noticed Ambrose angled to include another young man in his conversation.

"Thomas Grange is in town," Maxwell said, raising his voice as the piano began to play. "I heard he was recovering from an accident or some ordeal while traveling. I'll have to introduce you, Lucian."

Flora nodded. "The fresh country air will do him good. There's nothing quite like it for restoring one's health."

Ambrose spotted the duchess and waved, pulling a handsome blond boy along behind him as he made to join us.

My eyes settled on the newcomer. A curl of golden hair had brushed his forehead, and he pushed it back into place impatiently.

That was funny. He looked familiar, very much like the boy from my dungeon, whom I'd toyed with before I'd been run from my castle.

I froze, picturing this boy covered in a week's worth of stubble, eyes wild with desperation and fear.

My heart ground to a halt. It wasn't so much a striking resemblance—it was him.

Of all the stupid humans to run into, of course I would run into him.