Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

"T hat was torturous," Ambrose proclaimed as he strode into the library, nearly knocking into a crying maid on her way out. He stopped to watch her go before turning to me and Maxwell with a raised eyebrow. "Really? You have nothing better to do than make the help break down in tears while I'm gone?"

"He did it," Maxwell said, pointing to me. "I'll warn you not to get on his bad side."

I scoffed, then shrugged, for he wasn't wrong.

Maxwell sighed. "Annie was withholding information pertinent to Emmett's disappearance."

"Was she now?" Ambrose took a seat to my right. "What sort of information?"

"You called for me, my lord?" Percival appeared in the doorway, standing at attention.

"Come in," Maxwell told the man.

Ambrose sent me a questioning look, and I leaned in to mutter under my breath, "You'll see."

The butler didn't take a seat, and we didn't offer him one.

"Percival," I said, voice even and commanding. "One of your staff claims she informed you of bloody sheets in Emmett's bedchamber. Apparently you merely told her to dispose of them and set out fresh sheets."

"And to tell no one about it," Maxwell added with narrowed eyes.

Percival shifted and glanced at Ambrose. I frowned. There seemed to be some understanding passing between them before the butler roused himself. "You were informed correctly. My staff is instructed to hold their tongues. If I let them gossip, who knows what sort of scandal could befall this house."

"And you didn't find bloody sheets concerning?"

"No. I did not. Women sometimes bleed and I wouldn't doubt one finding her way into the young master's bed."

Maxwell scowled. "Emmett does not bring women to his bed, and you know that very well unless you're the least observant servant in this household." He took a breath, attempting to rein in his frustration. "I know you've seen Emmett grow up in this house, and you're fond of him, but that doesn't mean you know what's best for him, or us. You are to report these things to us at once in the future."

"It will be so, my lord."

I pursed my lips, not liking how quickly he was accepting the remonstrance. "Percival, was there anything strange in Emmett's behavior when you last saw him?"

The butler shrugged. "He was acting his age, as far as I could tell. He's been sulking more lately, spending more time painting than usual, and going out for more late night strolls."

"Late night strolls?"

Ambrose waved a hand dismissively. "I do it myself. I've run into Emmett on occasion. It does wonders to clear one's head."

"If there's anything else?" Percival asked.

I met Maxwell's eyes, but he didn't seem to have anything else to add. "That will be all," he said.

As soon as Percival had closed the door behind him, Ambrose turned to me with a frown. "Bloody sheets?"

"We think it was those people who tried to take me last night," Maxwell said.

Ambrose put a hand to his head. "I … I suppose this means we had better keep a close eye on you, brother."

"We also need to beg a favor of you," I told Ambrose, who returned my look with a stare. "But first, how was your time with Isabel?"

Ambrose groaned, leaning back into the cushions of the sofa. "I have never heard someone prattling on about their accomplishments for so long. Does she not understand that she should be flattering me ? Is she oblivious to how this works? I'm the prize, not the other way around."

I tightened my hands in my lap to resist throttling him. I changed the subject before I said something I would regret. "You must have seen Emmett's paintings? During our search, we found Isabel in several of them."

"Yes, I'm aware. She makes for a pretty muse. It's a shame she's always hanging around with that Violetta. If Isabel becomes my wife, she will have to go."

I exchanged a meaningful look with Maxwell. "So, she stands a chance to make it through the competition?"

A knowing grin crept across Ambrose's face and he leaned back, lifting his arms to showcase his biceps. "Jealous, are we, Lucian? I do believe I like this side of you."

"Can you blame me?" I asked sweetly.

"I haven't found fault in you yet," Ambrose admitted, eyes roving over me. "If I send Isabel packing, would that please you?"

"No, actually."

Ambrose frowned. "No?"

I bit my lower lip. "We may have need of her."

Ambrose's eyes widened. "You want me to keep her around? Truly?"

I threw an arm over the back of the sofa. "We need you to press her for information. I'm afraid she won't answer questions willingly … unless they come from someone she has a vested interest in pleasing."

Ambrose slid a hand over his face. "That sounds tedious, but I suppose I can see what I can glean from the girl, for Emmett's sake. If she takes a moment to stop talking about herself, that is." He paused. "The next ball is going to be held at Foxglove Abbey. We'll be staying on for a few days. Are you sure you can tolerate her presence for that long?"

I glanced to Maxwell. For the answers to who those men were, I would endure nearly any unpleasantness. "I believe I can handle her."

Much of the party moved to the back lawn that afternoon for archery practice, and rather than join them, I took this as an opportunity to explore the house. To earn the required tokens, I should have charmed the crowd, but I had a feeling that political advantages would be the only thing to move the needle in this competition, and I had little to offer in that regard. I would have to figure something else out. And anyway, I didn't know when next I would have such an opportunity to look for clues pertaining to the vampire hunters.

One thing that had been bothering me was how Ambrose had appeared so suddenly outside the dining room. I'd looked up the hallway before stepping out from the closet. It made me think that perhaps there was another hidden room in the vicinity. And so, I found myself outside the dining room, inspecting the wall. There were a handful of paintings on display, of grassy meadows and rolling hills, and I wondered briefly if any were Emmett's. They weren't, as far as I could tell. I supposed that would be encouraging his talent, something the duke wouldn't approve of.

I scowled. I didn't understand how someone could be so obtuse as to not let his own son foster a remarkable talent.

I scoured the wall once without success, taking down paintings as I came across them, hands roving the simple white wallpaper as if some invisible button might be felt, but that wasn't very likely. My eyes drifted toward the ground, where baseboards climbed from the floor a few inches. If nothing was hidden behind the paintings, that was the only place to hide anything meaningful. I squinted as I walked slowly along the wall, bent double as I sized up every ridge and nick along the wall. Just when I'd reached the end and was about to turn the corner to the dining room, I saw it. A small circular button that was indented slightly into the base wood. Ensuring no one was around, I pushed on the button.

A hidden panel in the wall slid out seamlessly from the wall with a soft click.

I smiled, then darted within, finding a handle to pull it shut behind me. I paused in the darkness as my eyes adjusted to the room I found myself in. I should have thought to bring a lantern, but I spied a small stream of light farther in the room, and from that slight illumination, I could make out the walls, at least.

Approaching the stream of light, I lined my eyes up with two spy holes, frowning as I found myself peering in at the dining room from another vantage point. I scowled, pulling away. That was hardly helpful.

Glancing farther into the room, I saw no other peepholes, nor doors. Just as I was about to proclaim this discovery a total loss, I heard a noise from the dining room. I returned to the spy holes and watched a maid appear from a servants' staircase.

It gave me an idea.

I left the hidden room and strolled into the dining room as the maid was arranging flowers at the center of the table. When she noticed me, she stiffened and paused to curtsy to me. "My lord," she murmured.

I sent her a winning smile that made her blush prettily and leaned on the table with a sigh. "I'm so sorry to bother you, but do you know Nancy, by chance? She's Lady Grafton's maid."

The girl nodded once, unable to meet my eyes.

"Oh, good. You see, she was supposed to supply me with a copy of the room assignments for the guests. With this new challenge, I need to be strategic in making friends, especially since I hardly know anyone here." I let out a defeated sigh. "You haven't seen her lately, by chance?"

The girl shook her head. "No, I'm sorry, my lord. She likely accompanied Lady Grafton and the duchess into town to see Lady Luna."

I closed my eyes and put a hand to my forehead. "I wish it hadn't slipped her mind. I have only a few days to speak to the others. I would hate to be eliminated during such a challenge. I already feel terribly lonely as the outsider. You understand."

The girl hesitated, but nodded, finally meeting my eyes with sympathy. "I do understand. I …" She paused to bite her lower lip. "I could give you my copy. I can always share with someone else."

I widened my eyes. "You would do that for me? I wouldn't want to put you out."

"It's not trouble at all," the girl insisted, smiling now. "I'm happy to help."

"It would truly mean the world to me."

Five minutes later, I walked out of the room with a list of names and a brief explanation on how the rooms were laid out. I paused near the hidden room to glance over it, paying special attention to the room numbers beside each name. There were a few men I could imagine as vampire hunters among the contestants, and I chose to prioritize those rooms while they were occupied with archery.

It was easy enough to enter the rooms, as no guests were provided locks, although I did have to steer clear of a few maids as they made their rounds. Finding no success among the few men I'd singled out, I decided to continue without direction. I wouldn't have much more time before dinner, but I could at least rule a few more contestants out. My finger found a familiar name on the list. Crane, Isabel. Perfect. Perhaps I would find a clue regarding Emmett's disappearance without having to interact with the insufferable girl at all.

Finding the room, I slipped inside, closing the door slowly shut behind me before gazing around. Her room was nicer than mine. It had a four-post bed. How intolerable.

I began my search with her vanity, sorting through her jewelry and accessories. I paused as I came across the largest ruby I'd ever seen in a brooch, holding it up to the light with awe. I recalled the diamonds she'd flaunted at the first ball. Her family certainly had the wealth to be able to fund a vampire-hunting operation, but I saw nothing that implicated her as of yet. I turned to her wardrobe and was annoyingly impressed with her dresses and shoes. She had exquisite taste. Expensive taste. But I saw no telltale robes or red moths emblazoned across anything. I unearthed no weapons or vials of holy water. I did, however, come across a letter in the rubbish bin, but it was clearly addressed to Violetta. "Within these lonely walls, where we're so close, yet so far apart, I've had second thoughts about my future. But you know as well as I that we cannot afford to marry for love, not in this day and age. My father would never approve of our union. He would see that as a step down." Here, she'd crossed out "step down," before crumpling the paper into a ball. I tried not to be intrigued by their relationship. If anything, I could tell by this handwriting that Isabel had not been the one to send that letter to Emmett. He had turned to another friend in his time of need, it seemed.

I left Isabel's room feeling a sense of defeat in the little progress I'd made. Isabel certainly wasn't the type to hunt vampires, but Ambrose had seemed to think highly of her family, which, along with their wealth, meant they might be worth looking into.

I slid my finger down the list, deciding whose room to examine next, when a mew issued from my right. I smiled as Beezle darted up to me. So, he'd found a way out of Emmett's room yet again, probably under the nose of a careless servant. He stopped to stare up at me for a moment before slipping up the hallway and into the ballroom. I followed, deciding to get a look at how the archery session was going. Depending on how involved everyone was, I might be able to sneak a few more rooms in.

I strode to back of the ballroom and pushed out through a door, my eyes immediately drawn to the dark clouds rolling in overhead. It looked like rain. These were the sorts of days I would look forward to as a vampire, when the cloud cover was sufficient to venture out during daylight hours. Of course, one had to be certain that the clouds wouldn't dissipate suddenly. I'd known a few vampires who'd met their end in such a fashion. But I'd learned over the years how to discern when the weather was favorable, as it was now.

I closed my eyes for a minute, reveling in the quiet before the storm, as the first biting winds buffeted me, foretelling the strength of what was to come. Somehow, I found its caress calming. Since I'd come here, I'd felt strange and confused, not quite my cool, collected self. I needed to center myself, but I wasn't sure how. Usually, I would track down some unfortunate soul and systematically break their bones, sipping at their neck like a vintage wine to be savored, until the well was dry. Clearly, that wouldn't work in my current situation.

I had to keep things in perspective, and the truth was that I'd only been mortal for a few days, and had only known the duke's family for one. It was ludicrous that I felt anything for them at all, and yet … I couldn't deny it. My protégée Raven had spoken of such stirrings previously, of wanting family, but I'd dismissed them out of hand. That simply wasn't how things were done. Vampires were solitary beings. Large groups attracted the attention of humans. It was better to have no attachment to things or people, for sentimentality led to death.

I refused to let myself become soft.

I felt Beezle's comforting presence as he rubbed along my pant leg. "It was so much easier as a vampire," I said, opening my eyes to glance down at him. "You understand, don't you, Beezle? You think the humans are silly and stupid as well. But they have this annoying way of getting under your skin. It's truly insufferable."

The sound of cheering in the distance roused me, and I squinted at the figures in the distance. There weren't many figures left on the lawn. Perhaps I'd missed my window to do any more investigating today.

With a sigh, I returned to the ballroom, closing the door firmly at my back. I paused as I noted the pianoforte nearby. I enjoyed playing. Perhaps it could help me center myself now. I glanced around the empty room and shrugged, stepping up to the instrument and sitting on the bench before it. I held my hands poised over the keys for a moment, deciding what to play, when I decided on something cheerful. Mozart's Piano Sonata No. 17. That would do.

I closed my eyes as my fingers began to dance over the keys, and I let the music wash over me. I felt myself calm as my movements became more graceful and relaxed. I was actually having fun by the time I finished, beaming as I opened my eyes to find Beezle staring at me from the top of the piano, unimpressed.

I started at the sound of someone clapping behind me, and whirled to find Violetta watching me with a smile.

"Oh, I didn't mean to startle you," she apologized, dipping her head. "I didn't want to interrupt, and it was so … transportive."

"Why, thank you, my lady," I said, standing and bowing. "I'm glad it wasn't wasted on an empty room."

"You must have had an amazing teacher."

I blinked, then nodded. "Yes, I … whiled away many a night playing. I had some great teachers who fostered my talent." I shrugged. "But what are you doing here? Did you make your excuses to leave archery early?"

"Oh, I'm not good at that sort of thing," Violetta said shyly. "I'm not very talented."

"Now, I know that's not true," I said, striding over to her. "Isabel doesn't strike me as the sort of person who would be interested in someone without talent."

Violetta's smile faltered. "Yes, well, she's not as interested in me anymore, is she?"

I studied her for a moment before crossing my arms. "I think it's complicated. Humans are complicated. If Isabel could choose whomever she wished to be with, without having to think about status and riches, why, I believe there wouldn't be a choice at all."

"If only we lived in such a world," Violetta sighed, turning toward the exit. I fell into step with her.

"She cares for you, you know. I can see it in how she looks at you. How protective she is of you. She's probably not the best at articulating it."

Violetta chuckled. "You can say that again. I just wonder … who I am without her. I want her to be happy, even if it isn't with me. I suppose I just need to find happiness elsewhere." She offered me a tight smile. "Like when Emmett broke his hand. He didn't give up on his art. He just used his left hand until it healed, and then adapted."

I blinked. "He's ambidextrous?"

She snorted. "Oh, no. The paintings he created with his left hand were terrible. I would never tell him so. Isabel wouldn't either." She smiled wistfully. "Isabel pushed him to be better with his painting, always, even during that dark time. Even when he could use his right hand again and it wasn't quite the same. And then, she made him start from scratch when he didn't get her likeness just right."

I laughed. "That sounds like her, all right."

"But he became better because of it." She shrugged.

I frowned. "It doesn't sound like Isabel would be the type of person to abandon her friends. Even if she did secure Ambrose's hand."

Violetta met my eyes, her features softening. "Yes, I think you're right. I just needed reminding, I suppose."

I nodded, then tilted my head. "Don't get the wrong idea, though. I'm going to be the one to win Ambrose's hand."

Violetta grinned. "And I think you would make a fine pair."

We stepped out of the ballroom, Beezle attempting to trip me in my progress, when Helena appeared before us, making her way up the hallway.

"And how was your visit to the psychic, Helena? Are we all doomed to miserable deaths? Will I at least live to see the New World before I meet my demise?" I asked.

Helena's lips twisted into a mischievous smile. "Shockingly, you didn't come up once, my dear count." She tilted her head. "Is that Lady Abbott with you?"

"Oh," Violetta sent me a wide-eyed look. "You can tell I'm here?"

"She's quite observant," I said. "Preternaturally so."

Helena sniffed. "It's your perfume, dear. You're the only one with notes of lilac."

"It's my mother's favorite," Violetta replied shyly, looking down at her feet.

"Dinner is about to be served," Helena informed us. "And I believe the Crane girl was looking for you, Miss Abbott."

"Oh." Violetta looked up sharply.

I nodded down the hall. "Go on. We'll catch up."

Violetta bobbed her head in thanks and hurried up the corridor, skirts swishing.

"A sweet girl," Helena observed. "She won't remain in the competition much longer."

I crossed my arms. "Yes, well, it's hard being a human, something that you failed to let on to. How do you do it? Everything is so complicated. "

"Yes, well, if you recall, Lucian, I wanted to leave humanity behind. It was with good reason."

I blinked. "Is that so? And just how did you pass the last decade?"

"Flattering my betters. I learned a lot from my time with you."

I snorted.

Helena sighed as we continued up the hall. "I am a patient woman. Even if it takes years, I get what I want. My wealth gave me opportunities, and with each ball I attended, each dinner I was invited to, I climbed the ranks of society. That was my life since departing from you. I had time for little else."

"Such a pity. I would have thought you would take up an instrument."

She scowled. "Music was your thing. And after those torturous months when you were learning the harp? To this day, I have nightmares."

"Really? Of all the nightmare fodder I provided, my playing an angelic instrument like the harp is what sticks with you?"

"It was truly terrifying."

We parted in the dining room. I was seated on the far side of the table this time, among strangers. I joined in conversation where I could as people chattered around me with enthusiasm, but I didn't fool myself into believing I'd made progress ingratiating myself to them. I would have to do something, and soon, to rise in the ranks.

Cecelia, on the other hand, was finding her stride. She'd outshone everyone in archery, making three bullseyes in a row. She was proving to be more competition than I'd expected.

Once guests began to file out of the dining room, Maxwell fetched me, escorting me to a waiting coach, where we were greeted by Melbourne and Cecelia.

"Are we ready?" Ambrose asked, stepping into the carriage and claiming a seat beside me. I angled my knees away so that they wouldn't accidentally knock into his.

"Quite," I said. "So long as the weather holds." I tilted my head toward Cecelia. "I hear congratulations are in order. Three bullseyes?"

Cecelia smiled proudly. "I would say that it was luck, but it was actually a lot of practice. My mother is very skilled and taught me."

"She's done an amazing job," Ambrose complimented. "I believe the duke would have been proud, if he'd witnessed your prowess."

"I will have to ensure he gets the chance."

I cleared my throat. "Since you have such an advantage, might I make a suggestion?"

Cecelia quirked an eyebrow. "You want my token, I suppose?"

I smiled sheepishly. "Well, I'm going to assume that you and Melbourne are planning to vote for each other."

"You would assume correctly," Melbourne agreed.

"And can you find it in your heart to give the new boy a chance? So many tokens are going to be predetermined. It's hardly fair."

"And you're proposing you deserve them merely because you're a novelty?"

I snorted. "Hardly. But if I were to vote for Cecelia, and Cecelia were to vote for Melbourne, and Melbourne votes for me to complete the loop, we would all three have tokens, rather than just you two. You'd hardly be out anything."

Cecelia exchanged a look with Melbourne before shrugging. "That's true. I don't mind. Do you, Melbourne?"

Melbourne pursed his lips. "It's not very strategic, but I suppose I'd rather have you remain in the competition than some of the others."

"Good. Then it's decided," I said. I nodded my head to them. "Thank you."

"What are friends for?" Cecelia said.

Friends. An interesting idea. I'd never really had friends in my life. My human servants had only served me in anticipation of reward. Raven had been my protégée. There hadn't been room for friendship in that relationship. We were acquaintances of the moment, nothing more.

There were several minutes of silence as we watched the coach's progress out the window. We followed the same road into town that I'd taken to the tailor's, but soon pulled off onto a dark avenue canopied by trees.

"I haven't been out to Old Mill Road in years," Ambrose spoke up.

"It's nearly in disrepair," Cecelia said. "We only use it for shortcuts. It can be a bumpy ride. You risk breaking down if you go much over a crawl."

"What's out there?" I asked.

Melbourne shrugged. "There's a bridge that runs over Cedar Mill River and an old cemetery, although I don't think anyone's been buried there in a very long time."

"Gramercy House is off Old Mill Road," Cecelia offered.

Maxwell's face twisted into a grimace.

"What's Gramercy House?" I asked.

"An old manor that hasn't been lived in for decades," Maxwell informed me. "The last family who lived there were driven out."

"They were said to be vampires." Ambrose nodded. "I believe there was a mob that burned them out. Pitchforks and torches and the like."

I shuddered as I recalled the mob that had come for me in my castle.

"That's just a story to scare people," Cecelia said with a sniff. "I ventured into the house when I was little, on a dare. There was no sign that anything had burned."

"You went in there on a dare?" Maxwell frowned. "I would hate to know your friends."

Cecelia looked pointedly at Melbourne, who chuckled nervously and glanced away.

The farther we traveled along Old Mill Road, the more ominous the clouds grew. The wind knocked the skeletal branches of nearby trees into the coach, so that it sounded like creatures were raking their nails over the roof. The progress was excruciatingly slow, as Cecelia had warned, and by the time she stopped the driver, it had begun to drizzle. We had three umbrellas between us, so Melbourne paired off with Maxwell, and Cecelia insisted on venturing out alone. That left me with Ambrose. If Cecelia was interested in pursuing Ambrose, that was rather shortsighted of her, but she seemed content walking into the gloom solo.

"Good sir," Ambrose said, sending me a mocking bow as I stepped out of the coach and beneath the umbrella he spread overhead. He then handed it to me, and I hid a scowl as I struggled to hold it aloft while also wielding the lantern. God forbid Ambrose lift a finger.

We gazed around the place Cecelia identified as where Emmett had stood when she'd passed by a fortnight prior. We were parked just before a bridge, but she was unsure as to which side of the bridge Emmett had been on, and seeing nothing in the immediate vicinity, we crossed to the other.

I gazed down as we traversed the bridge to see a river rushing below quietly. Instinctively, I felt an aversion to the running water, but that was an old reaction. I didn't understand the power it held over me, in the same way I had no idea why I found a crucifix revolting. Either way, I would grow sick around them and never made it a few steps over water before collapsing from vertigo. As I'd grown in my power, I'd found I was able to fly over rivers without growing ill, so I took to transforming into a bat as necessary. Otherwise, I had to rely upon others, usually human servants, to carry me across by coach.

"You seem lost in your thoughts," Ambrose said softly as we touched down on the other side.

I glanced up at him. "My apologies. I've been rather in my head today, haven't I?"

"A little. I don't mind, though. I would prefer a strong, silent companion. It's less taxing."

"The last thing I would want is to be a burden on the future duke," I said innocently.

Ambrose nodded, knowingly. "You're not quite what I expected, actually. It's rather easy with you. I don't feel like I have to have my guard up in your company."

I met his eyes. The lantern glow warmed his features in a way that reminded me how handsome he was. It was a shame he was so insufferable. "I'm glad to hear that."

"Over here, everyone," Cecelia called out, a welcome distraction.

We stalked over to the roadside just a few yards from the bridge. Cecelia pointed to a group of trees. "I think he was there," she said.

I squinted as the rain began to grow heavier, beating steadily upon the umbrellas and obscuring our surroundings. A peal of thunder belted out, echoing across the sky.

"We may have to cut this trip short," Melbourne observed, wincing as he stared at the clouds, which were nearly black now as they roiled overhead.

I frowned at the treeline. There appeared to be a clearing ahead. "What's back there?" I asked.

Ambrose shrugged and led me past where Cecelia had spotted Emmett. We were gifted a brief respite from the rain as the trees took the brunt of the blows. When we reached the clearing, we paused to look out over a cemetery, green with overgrown grass and shrubs, choked with weeds. I could make out dozens of headstones, several in the shape of crosses, while one large figurehead of an angel seemed to spread her arms in welcome to the storm.

I took a step forward and reluctantly, Ambrose followed, until I stopped before a gravestone with the phrase etched into it, Together in the next life. I gazed at the headstones before me as the others joined us. "This is the location of Emmett's painting," I said.

Maxwell let out a startled gasp. "So it is."

As the others stooped to get a closer look at the grave markers, I ventured with Ambrose to the back of the cemetery, where I noted a steep drop. Dead leaves clogged the rocky valley as I realized what I was looking at. I could almost picture the owl Emmett had depicted in the branches of a nearby tree. This was the dried-up riverbed, likely a tributary from the nearby river that had been cut off.

"Emmett spent some time out here, it would seem," Maxwell commented, suddenly beside us.

I nodded slowly before gazing up to see a ghostly house in the distance, obscured by the rain, which was now falling in torrents.

"We need to go," Cecelia insisted. "We can come back another time, if necessary."

I nodded. "I think we saw all we needed to."

We hurried back the way we'd come, my shoes sinking into the mud as puddles formed, making the path more treacherous. Another rumble of thunder chased us from the forest and back onto the road, only to find a figure waiting for us.

I stopped abruptly, going still as a woman twirled an umbrella in one hand and tilted her head to get a better look at us. The relentless slapping of the rain against the umbrella overhead became a roar in my mind as I tensed.

"Oh, hello!" Melbourne called to her. "Do you need assistance?"

"No, I do not," she said with a lazy grin. "But you might in due time."

Her eyes locked with mine, blacker than her undead heart.

It was Raven.