39. Winnie

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

WINNIE

Mum: The bloody council bloody lady bloody came over. She wanted to come inside but I wouldn’t let her. Can you imagine the nerve! She stood on the street and snapped photos, so I threw all those doll heads at her. Haha, now she won’t come back. And you said those doll heads were rubbish.

I wake to fading sunlight on my face and the memory of a song with words I don’t understand.

My eyes fall on the mess of pillows scattered across the bed and floor, and the person-sized indent in the bed beside me.

Alaric slept here.

Alaric who blustered his way into my room under the pretense of protecting me. Alaric, who promised to stay on his side of the wall. And yet, somehow, during the night, our pillow fortification tumbled down and I’m now on his side of the bed.

That beautiful sad song in a language I don’t understand plays across my memory.

I slept through the night again. I didn’t have the nightmares.

I stare at the bed in horror, confronting the lie of our agreement. Did I throw myself at him while I was sleeping? And he’s such a gentle vamp that he’s fled the room, even though it’s still technically day and he must be suffering…

I roll out of bed, surprised at how good I feel. This is what a proper night’s sleep feels like. Or rather, a proper day’s sleep. My phone says it’s nearly 5 PM. Alaric will be having his evening swim right around now.

And when he gets back, we can confront Callista and take a shot at catching a killer, saving his head from being disassociated with his body, and ending a regressive ancient vampire law.

Just, you know, a typical day for a professional organiser.

I find a tray of fresh bread, preserves, hard-boiled eggs, and pastries at the foot of my bed, with a note from Reginald explaining that while Lady Callista is staying in the house, he’ll have to serve my meals in my room.

Okay, sure.

I also notice that one of the chairs under the window has been moved into the corner by the bathroom. There are a couple of charcoal sticks on the floor beside it, but no other signs of Alaric.

I throw on wide-leg trousers and a cute purple cap-sleeve tee and stuff my face with pastries while I work up the nerve to go downstairs and confront Alaric. I may be the one to knock down the pillow fortification, but he did say he was going to remain by my side and he’s not here, so I hope this makes us even.

I wipe crumbs from the corner of my mouth, shove my feet into my Ugg boots, and fling open the door.

I stifle a scream.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Preston,” Reginald says from his position on the landing. “My lord apologises that he could not be here when you awoke. He had some business to attend to, so I’m taking over his guard duties. I’ll escort you to the ballroom. I’m sure he’ll be eager to see you.”

“Thanks, Reginald.”

As we approach the ballroom, I hear a faint swooshing noise. I suppose his mother has him working on preparations for the ball.

Reginald pushes the doors open, and I peer into the gloom.

My heart leaps into my throat.

Alaric dances across the vast marble ballroom, his long fingers wrapped around an enormous sword. He is majestic as he steps and lunges and parries an invisible foe, the sword glinting as it slices through air.

Remember how I said I always dreamed of a knight in shining armour coming to rescue me?

Now that dream is weaving a deadly dance in front of my eyes, and he is majestic .

And hot AF.

Hot like a lovechild of Aragorn and Geralt of Rivia.

Alaric must hear my lady parts gasping, because he whirls around and stops short when he sees me. The sword clatters to the floor.

“My wife.” He’s upon me in a moment, his hands gripping my forearms, dragging me into the room. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there when you woke again. But I needed to practice. I trust you slept well.”

“I had a great sleep.” I swallow. I don’t want to explain about the nightmares, that last night is only the second time in three months where I’ve slept through the night. And most of the day. I especially don’t want to explain when he’s so close to a weapon that could have my clothes cut off in a matter of moments . “Your mother didn’t try to suck me dry, so I’d say luck is on our side.”

“She’ll be awake shortly. As soon as Gideon arrives, we’ll speak with her.” He frowns at his discarded blade, as though this is somehow its fault. “I am aggrieved that I couldn’t keep you safe from her without this absurd plan where you pretend to have feelings for me and risk your neck.”

Yes, that’s right, I’m pretending. I press my forehead against his, wishing we could stay in this moment, that we could be Winnie and Alaric again, but I’m dangerously close to falling for this man, and I’m not ready yet. I need my rules. I need order, or my life will fall apart. “You’ve saved my ass three times now. I owe you.”

“You owe me nothing.” He brushes his thumb over my lower lip, and chases it with his mouth.

This kiss is even more intense than yesterday. His tongue slakes across mine, a spear of dark magic that makes me long for the kind of chaos that only he can give me, the kind of chaos that’s wrong and right all at once.

It’s difficult to pull away, but I do it, my feet sliding across the polished marble floor. My questions burn on my tongue, but he’s being so Alaric that I don’t want to ask them yet. I want more tiny pieces of him before this fragile thing between us withers.

“You’re doing it again,” I growl. “We’re not supposed to be kissing unless she’s here.”

Alaric regards me with his lips pursed, the sword lying at his feet.

“Forgive me,” he murmurs, although his eyes tell me that forgiveness isn’t what he wants. “I thought we should practice before my mother arrives.”

“ Alaric. ”

“To make certain that we can still convince her.”

“I don’t think we need to worry.” I rub my lip, but the scent of him still lingers. I fight to catch my breath. “Why did you suddenly need to swing a sword around?”

“I’m training,” he says seriously. “For the next time I meet Patrick.”

Why does that make my knees weak?

“Maybe not kill him,” I suggest. “Just maim him a little. Can I try?”

“Certainly.” He spins me around. His arms wrap around me as he presses his chest into my back. “My wife shouldn’t need me to maim her enemies for her. Pick up the sword.”

I bend down and pick the large, two handed sword. Bending drives my hips back into Alaric. He lets out a hiss as his fingers dig into my hips, and a cheeky part of me likes hearing him lose control, especially since he was cheating with that ‘practice’ kiss. I purposefully grind myself against him as my fingers close around the hilt of the sword. I’m rewarded by a low groan against my ear.

I’m dancing with a monster.

I’m making things messy.

But I don’t care.

The sword is lighter than I expect, the leather hilt worn and the blade chipped in places. This sword has seen battle.

No wonder Alaric didn’t want to get rid of his swords. They’re part of his story. I wonder what battles this weapon has seen? I wonder if…

My questions die as I straighten up and feel a very different type of sword dig into my thigh.

“Legs wider.” Alaric’s commanding voice brushes against my ear.

He kicks my foot out. Now his thighs are pressed into mine. I can feel everything .

Oh, he is not playing fair.

Alaric places his hands over mine and shows me how to grip the hilt of the sword. His voice rumbles through me as he explains how to keep a firm grip with the top hand, but to keep the other looser so that I can wind the blade.

His cool hands move over mine as he describes the different stances and guards. He nudges my feet, forcing me to move, and he moves with me, our bodies locked in a deadly dance as we step and spin across the ballroom, the sword blade whipping in front of me. Every touch brings back flashes of our night together, of how good he made me feel.

It doesn’t matter how good he makes you feel. You are too fragile for this. You don’t just jump into a relationship with the first supernatural creature you meet, especially after you’ve just been dumped by Patrick.

Don’t make a mess of your heart, Winnie. You always regret it. Keep it simple – help Alaric with his mother and then get out. That’s the plan. It’s a good plan. We like a good plan…

It’s very hard to remember the plan when Alaric is spinning me across the ballroom, the sword blade flashing in our hands.

“Winnie,” he breathes, his chest heaving as he struggles for breath. “I must tell you that I?—”

“Don’t let me interrupt. I’m here for the show.”

I leap away from Alaric, the sword flying from my fingers. Alaric catches it midair and whirls around to face the intruder.

Gideon leans against the door, wearing an impeccable grey suit, his blond hair slicked up in a trendy style, and his eyes crinkling at the edges with suppressed laughter.

“Winnie Preston, it’s so lovely to see you still hanging around.” Gideon winks at me. “I see you’ve got Allie to give you his weapon.”

“What makes you so sure I didn’t win it off him in a fair fight?” I cock an eyebrow in return.

“Call me Allie one more time and you will learn how difficult it is to conduct business with your ribcage inverted,” Alaric growls at his friend.

“Don’t tease me with a good time.” Gideon crosses the room and slots my arm in his. “I’m here to offer my services as bodyguard and party planner. But since the old bat is still hanging upside down from the roof somewhere, I want to see the magic you’ve worked on Allie’s mess.”

“She doesn’t really turn into a bat, does she?”

Gideon laughs. “Oh, poor, sweet Winifred.”

Alaric stomps behind us as I show Gideon the work we’ve done in the ballroom. Gideon’s eyes widen as I walk him through the rooms, explaining the organising system and how Winnie Wins works. “Our next step is Neutralise, which is all about making a game out of tidying up and disrupting all the little habits that contribute to clutter.”

“I am in awe.” Gideon bows so low that his forehead touches the floor. “You know, if you wanted to stick around Argleton, I have a business opportunity for you.”

“You sound like you want to recruit me into a pyramid scheme.”

“The only pyramids I like are dusty old ones filled with treasures ripe for the taking,” Gideon says. “I’m merely suggesting that your skills may be uniquely suited for my clients. As more vampires give up their crumbling castles with their lack of indoor plumbing and astronomical heating bills and embrace modern living on the Sanctus Estate, they find themselves at a loss for what to do with their stuff. Even those who lack Alaric’s proclivities find themselves with rooms full of ephemera acquired through decades and centuries of immortal life. If you could prevent the more lascivious ones from sucking on your delectable neck, perhaps you could make a name for yourself as a vampire-clutter-cleaning specialist.”

“She’s not interested,” Alaric says stiffly as we leave the ballroom and enter the pottery studio.

“I think Winnie can speak for herself.” Gideon tweaks Alaric’s cheek. I can practically see smoke coming out of Alaric’s ears.

“Thanks for the offer,” I say quickly. “But I already have more business than I can handle in London.” Although, it would help if my business partner didn’t keep heaping more work on me and hogging all the credit.

“If you change your mind, you know where to find me. I assure you that my clients pay handsomely. But if they offer to share a drink with you, you can politely make an exit.” Gideon nods to the sword in Alaric’s hand. “Or take the not-so-polite route.”

“No one is going anywhere near Winnie’s neck,” Alaric growls.

“Tell that to our killer, if Winnie’s plan goes off.”

“The only room we have left to organise is this one.” I gesture to the kiln, trying to get them off the subject before Alaric turns his friend into an attractive platter of sushi. “It adjoins the ballroom, so I understand you’ll need it for feeding during the event. We’re moving the kiln and wheel to another room, but the only thing that’s stumping me is what to do with all the pots and mugs. They’re far too pretty just to throw away?—”

“Perhaps Alaric might offer them to Perdita as a wedding gift. Although they will need an army of Thralls between them to fill them with sweet nectar.”

I whirl around. Callista has snuck up behind us, completely silently. Alaric darts across the room to stand in front of me.

Callista’s smile to her son is cold. “Your Thrall informs me that you wish to see me. Have you made a decision about the ball?”

Alaric’s fingers knit in mine. “I will not marry Perdita at the ball. You’ll have to find another way to forge this alliance.”

She sighs. “Very well. I am disappointed. You were once my favourite warrior. It’s been a long time since I had to stick one of my children’s heads on a spike on the castle walls, but it’s always an effective deterrent for rebellion. I really should do it more often.”

“You’re not going to execute Alaric, either,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady so it doesn’t betray the abject terror I feel in her presence. “We have another plan.”

“Alaric, it’s speaking,” Callista makes a face. “You should tell it not to do that, lest it finds its tongue ripped out.”

Alaric’s hand rests on the sword at his side in a way that is both threatening and insanely hot.

Not dating a vampire. Fake-dating only.

“You will listen to what my betrothed has to say.”

“Are you trying to make me ill before my evening drink?” Callista snaps her fingers, and her Thrall appears in the doorway, swaying slightly on his feet. He pulls down the collar of his shirt, and my stomach churns.

She’s not going to feed in front of us, is she?

“I think you’ll like this plan, Lady Valerian.” Gideon pulls over a wingback chair for her. “It will appeal to your flair for the dramatic. And I personally would prefer both Alaric and Winnie to keep their heads attached to their bodies. They are ever so delightful company.”

Callista makes another face, but she settles herself into the chair. The Thrall kneels at her side, but she contents herself with petting his head like a puppy.

“We have a way for you to create your spectacle at the ball and solidify your alliance with the Midnight Court without killing Alaric or forcing him to marry Perdita,” I explain. “You will unmask the vampire murderer who is hiding in this community.”

“You can administer the Mora at the ball,” Alaric says, a hint of disgust in his voice.

Callista narrows her eyes at me. “You do know what I enjoy, son. I’m listening.”

“We know that a vampire murdered Danny O’Hare by way of husking,” Gideon says. “That vampire has thus far escaped both human and vampiric justice. But as we know, once a vampire husks a human, their hunger cannot not be sated any other way. The killer hasn’t struck again, but they will find it difficult to resist. And as they have done this husking in broad moonlight, knowing their actions would be noticed by our kin, they are the type who thrives on being the centre of attention. They will not miss your ball. After all, you’ve invited anyone who’s anyone in the vampire world. They will enjoy listening to the gossip, knowing that they are safe…until they’re not. When the time is right, you will unmask the killer for everyone to see.”

“You’ll be the heroine,” I add.

Callista licks her lips. Her fingers play with the Thrall’s neck. “And who, precisely, will I be unmasking?”

“We don’t know yet, but we have suspects,” Gideon says.

“ And a way to draw the killer out of hiding,” I point to my own chest. “Fresh human blood, ripe for the taking. We’ll have human staff at the ball, listening and gathering information, tempting the killer out of hiding. And not just any humans – we’ll have the Nevermore Murder Club and Smutty Book Coven – the best amateur supernatural detectives the world has ever known.”

Probably the only amateur supernatural detectives the world has ever known, but Callista doesn’t need to be reminded of that.

“You propose to be bait for this killer?” Callista’s eyes burn into me. “And to bring more unThralled humans to my ball?”

Alaric’s jaw works, but he doesn’t protest. I square my shoulders and meet Callista’s cold gaze. “I do.”

“And my son will have you on his arm?” Her nails dig into the Thrall’s flesh. “A human as his… betrothed , in direct violation of our laws.”

“Unlike the taboo of husking, the restrictions on human/vampire relations has been outdated for years,” Gideon says easily. “The law is to prevent the risk of Dhampir, but now there are many ways to ensure a human woman cannot become pregnant, the law is no longer required.”

“ Contraception, ” Alaric says proudly, as if the word itself is magical.

I suppose, in a way, it is.

“Vampire/human relations are a hot topic right now. I know your conservative court will baulk at the idea of changing this law, but it’s already being discussed in progressive circles and considered by the Midnight Court,” Gideon explains. “The Americans have already done away with their Dhampir restrictions.”

“I don’t care what those crazed capitalists do,” Callista spits.

Alaric explained to me that American vampires didn’t fall under the court system but had split off decades ago and were looked after by a large and influential tech company.

“No, but you do care about making this Nightshade/Midnight alliance work, and if the Lady of Agony shows her approval for a human/upyr relationship while also administering the Mora to a known husker, that will send a message to all factions that while you have no issues dealing out justice in accordance to our savage ancient laws, you are willing to bend to accommodate new ways for our kind to exist in the world,” Gideon explains. “My clients will be as impressed by your progressive thinking as they are by your brutality. It will play well for you politically, even more so than if you were to wed Alaric and Perdita.”

“Opening the doors to human and vampire relations could have many other benefits, too,” I add. “New alliances, business opportunities, maybe even wars that need vampire mercenaries – you could keep those rebels too busy and sated by bloodlust to think about crossing you.”

Alaric’s eyes fall on me, dark with surprise. I grin at him. I’ve learned a little about psychology dealing with my clients. I know how to make spoiled, rich bitches do things they don’t want to do.

I’ve just never tried it on a warlordess before.

“It has been a long time since I’ve administered the Mora.” Callista’s tongue licks her lips. “Although I am disgusted by the idea of humans and vampires lying together, it is a small price to pay to solidify my power. Very well, since Gideon and Alaric seem convinced this will work, I am willing to try it. But the killer must be unmasked by the Witching Hour or I will choose another head to place upon my favourite spike.”

She smiles at me. Cold fear drips down my spine.

“And what of Perdita?” Alaric asks.

“She has campaigned for a relaxing of the rules regarding human relations, although I believe it’s because she wishes to keep some flimsy human artist as a pet. Leave it to me to convince her to go along with this wild plan.”

“Thank you, Mother.” Alaric offers her a bow of his head, although his eyes never leave her face.

“Now that we have decided, make your plans as you will. If you’ll excuse me,” Callista rises, snapping her fingers for her Thrall to follow. “I’ll need to sharpen my sword. But first, it’s time for breakfast.”

She sweeps out of the room, leaving a cold spot behind her.

Alaric stares at me with awe. “I don’t know how you convinced her.”

I grin. “I’m magical.”

“Now we just have to get this book club to agree to help us.”

“They’ll agree,” I say, although I sound more certain than I feel. “They cannot resist a supernatural mystery. All we have to do is lay the perfect vampire trap.”