Chapter Twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE

I was going to be found out. I would be vilified and staked right here before the dancing had even begun. They would perform the waltz over my bones, laughing at the crackling sound as my ribs crumbled to dust beneath their shoes.

Well, that's what I would have done.

Flora stepped forward to greet Ambrose, and I took advantage of the distraction to slip into an adjoining alcove unnoticed.

I breathed a sigh of relief, finding the room occupied by only a handful of people. No one paid me any mind as I casually lowered myself to the ground and slipped beneath the safety of a table, the tablecloth obscuring me from view.

Thomas would recognize me, of course. His tormenter. I would be surprised if he didn't choke the life out of me upon first noticing my presence. I would have to avoid him, at all costs. But would I be able to manage that for the entire evening? People would miss me if I didn't show my face. Ambrose had asked for a dance. Would he take it as a snub and eject me from the competition?

I felt a bead of sweat gather at my brow and swiped it away angrily. How undignified, cowering beneath a table like a sniveling human.

I closed my eyes, imagining myself elsewhere.

"This is so dull," Raven sighed, voice petulant as she stared at the chessboard, where I'd slowly picked away at her pieces, toying with her to draw the game on longer. I could have ended it in less than ten moves if I'd had the mind.

"You must learn strategy," I told her, reaching for my knight. "And patience."

"Strategy?" she echoed, watching me remove one of her rooks from the board with a scowl. "I've seen little strategy or restraint in our outings. You pick someone off by themselves, then play with them like a cat with a mouse. It's as predictable as … well, as you winning chess."

I lifted an eyebrow. "It may be routine, but it's safe. It will prevent us from getting killed. Tell me what would happen if you picked a man behind a bar, and then five of his friends were suddenly on you? It would only take one to take command of the situation, to know what he was doing, and drive a stake through your heart."

"Yeah, yeah," she murmured, pondering the board. "And how was ordering your servant to drag Konstantin's coffin outside of the castle keeping us safe?"

I glanced up, surprised. "Is that what's bothering you? Konstantin? I assure you, his death was a long time coming." A long time. Ever since my maker had killed my classmates and forced this life upon me.

She closed her eyes. "And yet I hear his screams in my nightmares. When he opened that coffin, locked outside …" She shuddered as her eyelids fluttered open once more. "How can I know that won't be my fate one day? That I won't find myself lifting my casket lid to the sun?"

I smiled thinly at her. "Because I like you, Raven. I chose your company. I never chose his, and I found that I could no longer stand for it."

"I suppose Helena agreed he had to go?"

Now I genuinely was surprised. "Oh? You disapprove of Helena now?"

Raven glanced around the room, as if we might be overheard, but of course we would hear any humans in the vicinity. "She doesn't like me. Never has. Are you certain she didn't manipulate you into doing away with him?"

I laughed. "Helena? Manipulate me? Don't be absurd, Raven. Helena is human."

Raven leaned back, looking put out. "She may be human, but she's too observant for her own good. She sees everything."

I shrugged. "She is my eyes and ears during the day. She is necessary."

"For now. Just promise me you won't … turn her."

I lifted an eyebrow.

"I know you've promised her eternal life," Raven hissed. "Don't deny it."

"Of course I have. As I've promised it to every human servant who came before her, and every one who will come after. It's incentive. We need obedience. That is how we keep them loyal, with sweet words."

"And when she finds out you're lying?"

I shrugged, although the thought sent a tremor of regret through me. "Then her services will no longer be necessary."

I let the words hang in the air, and Raven seemed satisfied by my answer for the moment.

We played a few more moves, but I could tell her heart wasn't in it. I watched her, noting her hesitation, as if she were building the courage to broach a subject. I sighed. "What is it, Raven? Spit it out."

She ducked her head. "It's just … now that Konstantin is no longer in the picture, I was thinking … perhaps it was time to introduce a new companion to our lives."

I blinked. "Raven, we've talked about this. The more of us there are in one place, the more attention we attract. Humans are not stray cats—we don't collect them."

"I'm not saying an army. I know that most of them aren't worth our time, but we would choose carefully. The deserving. Just a few friends. A small community. Then this castle wouldn't feel so … desolate and drab. Don't you tire of the quiet? The endless solitude?"

"A community would require more sustenance. Tell me, what will the villagers do when multiple drained bodies show up weekly?"

Raven scowled. "There are birds. There are foxes and squirrels. We could make it work."

"So, now you would have us condescend to chasing rats to survive?" I shook my head firmly. "No, Raven. You will make do. You have riches and can entertain yourself perfectly adequately."

I noted a muscle twitch in her cheek, but ignored it, turning my attention back to the board. "Now, are you going to make a move that impresses me, or will you continue to bore me?"

She pouted, crossing her arms. "You chose this game. Next time, let me choose, and I promise it won't be nearly as dull."

I considered. "If it involves the sound of bones breaking, I might be open to a reprieve."

"Oh, thank God," Raven sighed, standing as if she couldn't get away from the chessboard fast enough. "Just make it a pretty village girl this time. I do love how they go still once we catch them, stunned like deer. It's so beautiful."

I chuckled and lifted my glass to her. "I knew I chose you for a reason."

"I swear he was just here," Cecelia said, and I stiffened as her shoes approached the table I was hiding beneath. They stopped a few feet away before returning from whence they came.

I let out a sigh of relief. I would wait them out. After a few minutes, I could slip away, spend the night in the garden, where I could be one with the night once more.

After a moment, two people took seats at the table, their legs pushing the tablecloth in as they scooted their chairs into my space.

The longer I stayed, the more awkward this would get.

I sighed, crawling out from under the tablecloth and unfolding myself with a sheepish grin as two dark-haired girls stared at me with wide eyes.

"Apologies," I said, bowing to them. "I dropped my ring."

I turned on my heel and hastily retreated to the sound of the girls tittering. Flushed from embarrassment, I paused at the pillars to the main floor. My friends had moved to the other side of the room.

Relieved, I skulked behind a group of boys laughing around one of the high tables to assess the room.

My eyes found Thomas.

I should have drained the boy of blood when I'd had the chance. Now I was paying the price for my lust for the handsome young man.

The crowd around Ambrose had turned to regard a young redheaded girl who'd been chosen as the next performer, and I seized the moment to make for the hallway that would take me back into the house.

"Lucian!" Maxwell called.

I cursed under my breath, pretending not to have heard him as I pushed past a gaggle of guests walking in the opposite direction. I muttered my apologies as I stalked into the hallway beyond. I took a moment to glance back, to find Maxwell pausing in his pursuit to exchange a word with a boy who'd said something. Thomas was at his side.

I turned down a short corridor with a few rooms to choose from. I chose the second door on the right, the door ajar, the darkness beyond perfect to disappear into. With any luck, there would be a door to the garden, and I could find a suitable place to hide for the majority of the night, perhaps making an appearance here and there when I determined the coast was clear.

I opened the door and slipped inside, coming up short when I nearly ran into someone in the shadows.

"Oh," a boy started, breathing hard as he pulled up his trousers with embarrassment.

I squinted at him, unable to sufficiently make out his features with so little light, but it was clear from his dress that he was a servant.

"Pardon, my lord," the boy apologized, rushing out past me as he tucked his shirt in.

I watched him disappear before turning to find another figure fumbling with his clothes in the dark. I opened the door wide enough to allow some light in.

I scowled. "For the love of Christ."

Melbourne smiled sheepishly at me as he straightened his cravat. "He was just helping me with my …" He shrugged, knowing any lie he came up with wouldn't be sufficient to shield him from the truth.

"Your zipper?" I prodded.

He flashed me a smile. "He was very eager to see to it."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm sure he was."

A voice called from outside the door. "Lucian?" Maxwell.

I cursed, pulling Melbourne deeper into the shadowed room with me. There was a desk and some large potted plants to provide some cover.

"Ah, so you do find me irresistible," Melbourne said as I covered his mouth with a hand to silence him, just a moment before the door was thrown wide.

"Lucian? Are you in here?"

Melbourne met my eyes, eyebrow raised in question. I pursed my lips, watching the outline of Maxwell at the door. He seemed to search the darkness briefly before leaving.

I waited a beat longer before I sighed, releasing Melbourne, who regarded the door curiously.

"You're hiding from Maxwell?" he asked.

"Sort of." I hesitated. "I need some time alone."

"With me?" Melbourne smirked.

I frowned at him, then drew myself up. "Yes, actually. Are you wearing it now? The red moth? Unfortunately, there's not enough light to see by."

Melbourne winced, ducking his head. "I didn't mean to keep it from you."

"Yes, you did."

He sighed. "Okay, I did. Because it's none of your concern. Plus, I was sworn to secrecy."

I grabbed the front of his jacket, my voice lowering dangerously. "Melbourne. Tell me the truth, for once in your pitiable existence. Are you a monster hunter? And think very hard before answering, because if I detect you are lying, I will gouge out your eyes and you will never salivate over a pretty servant boy's face again."

Melbourne stared back at me with wide eyes. "Good lord, Lucian. What's gotten into you?"

"I am through with games is what's gotten into me."

"Fine. Yes. I'm a monster hunter. But you can't tell anyone. It's a secret society."

I inched my face closer to his. "You will tell me who else is involved."

Melbourne snorted. "I certainly will not. Let me go before I call Maxwell back."

I considered breaking an arm. That was what I used to do when I began to torture a victim. But I couldn't very well do that now. His screaming would rouse the entire household. I needed to bide my time until I could get him farther from the others. Then, I would get the whole truth from him, everything I needed to satisfy Vrykolakas.

I shoved him from me, and he winced as he straightened his jacket.

"Not very gentlemanly of you," he said. "What do you care of vampire hunters, anyway? You have to be nominated, and you just aren't well-known enough to earn a majority vote."

I blinked. He thought … I wanted to be one of them? It was laughable. But I could perhaps use that arrogance. It would assuage him from considering my true intentions. After all, these were dangerous people I was dealing with. If I made them suspicious, they could come after me. I tilted my head. "Wait. Do you know what happened to Emmett?"

"What?" Melbourne frowned. "No. Absolutely not."

I squinted, trying to read the truth in his face, a feat made more difficult by the thick shadows of the room. "Maxwell deserves to know what's become of him."

"I'm telling the truth!" Melbourne watched me for a moment, then snorted. "You know what? I don't need to continue this conversation. It's clear that you're not ready to join us, even if you did handle that vampire well on Old Mill Road. Perhaps once this competition is behind us, we can revisit it, but now is not the time."

I clenched my fists at my side, wanting to throttle him. The insolence of this boy. But I remained motionless as he stalked past me and out the door.

I stewed as I considered my next actions. I should return to the party and … and wait for Isabel's signal. I'd forgotten our agreement amid the chaos. If I wanted to unravel this mystery, I had to be in that room. But how to avoid Thomas? It was unfortunate that this wasn't the masquerade ball. That would have made things much easier.

I climbed to my feet and crept to the door, peeking out into a silent hallway. Most of the guests would have arrived by now, I surmised. The ballroom would be bustling and lively. It might be easy to be overlooked with the ruckus around us. And I really only needed to make an appearance and have a word with Isabel. Then I could retreat to safety. I only had to watch out for Thomas, perhaps time my movements while he was engaged in dancing. Yes, that could work. I would simply need to tread carefully.

I approached the ballroom with trepidation. The alcoves added an element of concealment that could work to my advantage. If I could slip from one room to the other unnoticed by Thomas, I should be alright for the short time I needed to fulfill my needs.

I watched the ballroom from the shadows of the doorway. Couples were dancing the quadrille, laughter bubbling up over the stilted performance of a young man on the piano who looked ready to cry. The room was noisy and bustling, which suited my purposes perfectly. I couldn't make out Thomas amid the sea of faces, but I did spot Cecelia scolding Melbourne nearby. Zachariah was making conversation with the duchess, and I noticed with interest that he made notes with a quill as they spoke. He was perhaps helping to score this portion of the competition. He would likely have the ear for it, given his level of taste.

Then I spotted Isabel across the room, eyes narrowed as she watched the dancers. Her arms were crossed, Violetta speaking beside her, perhaps trying to soothe a bruised ego? The murder in Isabel's eyes led me to believe she'd been passed over for Ambrose's first dance.

I stepped into the room as the current performer ended his middling playing, intending to make a beeline for Isabel.

"There you are."

I started, pasting on a wide grin as Ambrose slunk over to me. He looked the height of fashion in a dark green suede suit. "Looking for me?" I asked.

"All over," Ambrose admitted. "I think Maxwell was about to send servants scouring the house."

I gestured vaguely around. "I needed some air is all."

"You promised me a dance."

"So I did."

We turned to watch a handsome boy step up to the performers' alcove to choose an instrument. He seemed much more confident than the previous boy, picking up a violin with a flourish before beginning.

The crowd nodded in approval and as one, began to dance the minuet.

Ambrose leaned into me. "Shall we?" He held out a hand.

I hesitated, glancing around for signs of Thomas. With any luck, he was still walking the house with Maxwell in a vain attempt to find me. I felt a little bad for the misdirection, but it had been necessary. Joining Ambrose in this dance would ensure the eyes of the entire room, but I couldn't outright refuse him. This was why I was here, to make this man fall madly in love with me. I couldn't do that if I didn't take some risks.

I accepted his hand and was swept out onto the floor. I soon found myself lost in the music, laughing as I was carried along with the dancing couples. Ambrose was a good dancer, even if his hands were clammy. When a waltz began next, I bowed to take my leave, but Ambrose's hand found my back and he pulled me closer, a possessiveness that made my blood boil. He could at least ask if I would care for another dance. But I pasted on a smile and allowed him to take me through the opening steps. He preened for the watching crowd and I fought the urge to roll my eyes as my hand wandered over the velvety back of his jacket.

I wondered how Maxwell's back would feel beneath my hands.

I blinked. Where had that thought come from? Maxwell had nothing to do with this moment. Maxwell had nothing to do with why I was here whatsoever, save for the mystery he'd pushed me into that could hold the key to the men in robes. Stupid intrusive thoughts. I needed to distract myself. "Did you have a chance to speak with Isabel?" I asked.

Ambrose roused himself, seeming to recall that he had a partner. "I plan to just before we leave tomorrow. But let's not talk about her just now." His eyes kept finding my lips.

I quirked an eyebrow. "What would you like to talk about?"

"Let's talk about us."

My hand tightened on Ambrose's as my heart stuttered. This was promising. "What about us?"

His voice was husky. "Lucian, you're unlike any—"

"Get your claws out of him, you foul demon!"

I stiffened, Ambrose's eyes darting to the figure I felt looming over my shoulder as the room came to an abrupt halt. The music stumbled, then made way for silence.

Thomas. Of course he would choose now to confront me. I supposed I had this coming.

I turned slowly to face the beautiful boy from my dungeon, his finger lifted to point at me, accusingly. It trembled slightly.

I would have to play the next part carefully if I didn't want to wind up at the end of a wooden stake.

I blinked, letting confusion pull at my features. I sent Ambrose an uncertain glance. Ambrose returned it, mirroring my own horror at the situation.

"Thomas?" Ambrose said, stepping forward. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Thomas?" Another voice echoed, Maxwell joining them, eyes finding me briefly before focusing on the blond.

Thomas was having a hard time forming words as he stared at me. His whole body trembled now. Had I instilled that much fear in him? As I recalled, I'd treated him rather well in that little dungeon. Yes, he'd heard the screams of my victims as they'd begged me for their lives, but I'd never threatened him at all. "He's strogoi," he spat. "A vampire."

The room seemed to hold its breath until Maxwell snorted. "That's a terrible joke," Maxwell said awkwardly, clapping a hand on his friend's back. "Thomas, let's—"

"It's no joke," Thomas insisted, shrugging Maxwell off, and stepping closer to me, emboldened with the eyes of the room on us. "This thing kept me prisoner in his dungeon for nearly a week before I was rescued. He played mind games with me, forced me to share a squalid room with others who disappeared one by one. The only time I ever heard their voices again were when they were calling out for death to end their suffering."

That was a bit of an exaggeration, I thought, frowning. Squalid? I'd provided straw for them to sleep on. I could have given them nothing.

"Our whole community is in jeopardy while this one remains free," Thomas continued, voice rising. "We have to put a wooden stake through his undead, black heart now if we wish to stave off the plague that follows his kind everywhere they go."

Maxwell was frowning. "I think you're confused, Thomas," he said, trying to grab his arm again, but being brushed off once more. "This is Lucian, not some vampire. We know him."

"The ones with faces of angels are the worst."

Aww. He thought I had the face of an angel.

I screwed my face into one pained and sympathetic. "I don't know what you mean, sir. I'm sorry for whatever trials you've endured, but they've nothing to do with me. I've never seen you before."

"It lies," Thomas said to the room at large.

"He had a friend who was a vampire," Zachariah said, suddenly amongst us. "Many people from his town were turned, maybe relations who looked similar."

"I know this is the thing that imprisoned me. I'll never forget its face, its whispered lies like honey."

"But we've seen him in daylight," Ambrose insisted, taking another step toward Thomas, hands up as if to calm a startled deer. "Vampires die when they're exposed to sunlight."

"Oh, and he has a reflection," Isabel offered a compact mirror. She stepped up and angled it so that Thomas could see my image in it. "See? He's no vampire."

Thomas's gaze was wild as he looked me over, blinking as if I would re-form into a new shape. I swallowed as I noted the fear reflected in his eyes, the same fear I'd seen in my victims before closing in, like that of a cornered animal. Sympathy tugged at my heart for this wretched soul. He seemed so broken. And I had done that to him. I had … toyed with him, this human being. Nausea roiled through my stomach. My hand began to shake at my side, but I forced it to still. I had to survive this confrontation. I couldn't afford to let this man rattle me, even if my instincts told me I should reassure him that I wouldn't hurt him. I could only look my victim in the face and deny his accusations, my heart lurching as I forced it into submission.

"But … no. It's a trick," Thomas insisted. "It has to be some demonic trick."

"Here, a cross," Zachariah said, holding a necklace he'd likely procured from someone in the audience. He held it up for all to see. "Lucian?"

I knew that the cross wouldn't affect me. I wouldn't feel the overwhelming sickness that crippled me. Even a glimpse was usually enough to make me feel ill. I was looking at it now, and as it drew closer, I stared, transfixed. It was so odd that such a simple shape could solicit such a violent reaction. It seemed almost comical now.

I snatched the crucifix with a smile, showing the room at large how I held it with no negative effects. For added emphasis, I kissed it before handing it back to Zachariah.

"No!" Thomas shouted. "This is him. I swear it!" He lunged at me, his fingers gripping my cravat, but strong hands held him back. Maxwell and Ambrose dragged him from me, and I straightened my clothing, letting a look of utter astonishment settle over my face. I couldn't meet his eyes, however.

"He really thinks I'm a vampire," I said, disbelief thick in my voice.

"I'm alright, I'm alright!" Thomas insisted after a few moments' struggle, and his friends released him, although Ambrose looked tensed to intervene again if necessary.

Hesitantly, Thomas approached me, looking me over. He met my eyes and I had to fight with my guilty conscious not to flinch away. My heart was pounding as I held my breath, waiting for him to react. "It has to be you."

I offered him a tight smile. "I really do sympathize with what you've been through. I've had my own struggles with vampires. They've left me traumatized in my own way." That was a little bit of truth anyway. It was all I could offer him at the moment.

Thomas ran a hand back through his hair, looking miserable. "I apologize. My mind must be playing tricks on me."

"The trauma is still fresh," Maxwell said, nodding sagely at his elbow. "It messes with your mind. It's not your fault, and not wholly unexpected. In time, you won't see your tormenter everywhere you go."

Nodding, Thomas stepped forward, Ambrose tensing behind him. But he only held out a hand to me. "Forgive me?"

I forced a smile. "Of course. It's all forgotten."

I took his hand, shaking with the man whom I'd been so needlessly cruel to, who would be haunted by me for perhaps the rest of his years. Shame seared hot through my chest as I tried to pour as much of an apology as I could into my hand, hoping he felt my regret.

Already, the room was turning away, the whispers rising to discuss such a scandalous moment. The poor traumatized Thomas Grange.

"I know my own eyes, foul demon," Thomas hissed, crushing my hand in his grip, his eyes wild as he began a stream of increasingly unhinged demands. "Somebody get me a stake! Better yet, a sword to cut off the demon's head. Scatter his burned flesh to the four winds so that he will never walk this earth again!"

Maxwell and Ambrose struggled with him as I looked on with shock, genuinely concerned for him. I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes and I blinked them away. He'd stared at me as if I were the devil himself. A complete and utter monster. And he would be right.

More men joined in restraining Thomas, dragging him from the room as I rubbed my bruised hand. Ambrose sent an apologetic look back at me as he disappeared into the crowd amid a cacophony of excited murmuring.

"I'm so sorry, dear," Flora said, suddenly at my side. "I'm so embarrassed for his behavior."

I couldn't speak at first, fearing my voice would tremble. I took several calming breaths to rein in the panic that was overwhelming me. His frenzy had been the result of an encounter with me. What had I been doing all these years? What right had I had? I had thought Konstantin overly cruel, and yet … I had been just as bad.

I swallowed past a lump. "I understand all too well the demons that haunt him. They make him feel unsafe everywhere he goes, I imagine. Please, don't think too harshly of him."

Flora patted my hand. "Come, don't fret over it. He'll get the help he needs. I'm afraid the night is spoiled, but perhaps we can salvage something of it yet." She gestured to the musician who'd stopped as the drama had begun, and "La Boulangere" began. People stepped out of the way as I began to dance with her, other couples joining in until a circle was formed.

The gaiety resumed, but I feared the incident was never far from anyone's mind. My heart certainly wasn't in the festivities. I kept conjuring up Thomas's haunted eyes.

One good thing may have come from the confrontation: Any association with vampires had been thrown from me. It hadn't hurt that the shock was still fresh in Thomas's mind and he'd reacted so poorly. Nobody stared at me, wondering if the man's accusations were true. I was human. There was irreputable proof of that. In the face of those facts, no one could continue to indulge his ranting and raving.

But it had been a close call. Far too close. I had to remember that I wasn't invulnerable anymore. If this room had transformed into a mob, I would have been at their mercy. I would be dead. Humans were dangerous and the longer this game was drawn out, the better the chances of me being found out.