Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

TWENTY LIVES

‘T he North Wind?' It's like a cold shock. ‘B-but, they're humans!'

My mother grips my father, convulsive. ‘Oh, Aleks, if he'd succeeded—' Her voice breaks and she buries her face in the curve where his neck meets his shoulder. He shifts, pulling my mother onto his lap. I look away. And catch Mistral frowning.

‘How do you know of the North Wind?' he says.

Despite the fact that I'm shaking and cold, something about the way he asks puts my back up. ‘I saw it written on a wall, when I was out the other night. And I asked Ky— er, one of the guards about it.' I pause to catch my breath. Everything feels strange, as though I'm in a dream. Or maybe like I just woke up. That little flame inside me flickers again. ‘I thought they weren't a threat, though. I mean, they're just humans.'

As the words leave my mouth it's as though I can see myself saying them. Just humans. Who in darkness do I think I am?

Would you like it?

I don't think I would.

‘What do you know about it, Emelia?' My father is frowning, but one corner of his mouth curves.

‘That they're rebels. And that?—'

Mistral interrupts me. ‘You don't need to worry about them, child.'

Screw him. I'm not a child. ‘They just tried to kill my father – I think I do need to worry!'

He narrows his eyes. Then he smiles, once more flashing gold brilliance. ‘They didn't succeed. And their agent is dead. Just another piece of human scum.' He snarls the last part.

‘ I'm human,' I hiss.

My mother leaves my father's lap and comes to sit with me, taking my hand. ‘I'm sure Mistral didn't mean it like that.'

‘Forgive me, dear one.' Mistral inclines his head in my direction. ‘Now, Penelope, I think we need to?—'

I cut in, my voice rising. ‘But how did the bomber get in here? If he was "just another human".' I let scorn creep into my voice, hoping it will cover the shaking. ‘And what do they want? For darkness' sake, people are dead! They nearly killed Father! I mean, is there something we're doing to humans, something we could change…' I trail off. Of course there's something we're doing. We eat them. And I don't see that changing any time soon.

‘Who knows? Or cares, if I'm honest.' Mistral spreads his hands. ‘They'll never win.'

I half-rise from my seat, my fists clenched, my control slipping.

My mother pulls me back. ‘Your father will be fine,' she says, rubbing my arm. ‘You needn't worry.'

‘Yes, he was lucky, little one,' Mistral muses.

He really is a dick.

‘Lucky?' I say, through gritted teeth. ‘He was lucky only because of our blood dancers, who blocked the light to save him. Without them, he'd be dead. I doubt you'd care about them, though. They're just humans.'

‘Actually, Emelia, you are right to question this.' All eyes turn to my father, who pushes himself up against the cushions, his movements stiff. ‘No one should have been able to get in here tonight. The North Wind shouldn't be able to get past our perimeters, nor should they be able to get so deep into vampire territory. And yet they do. We receive reports daily and yet, maddeningly, we cannot find the source.'

‘They are truly like the wind.' My mother's voice is rough. ‘Impossible to catch.'

Mistral is staring at me, his eyes lazy slits of blue. I yawn, my eyelids starting to droop. I lean on my mother, hardly able to stay awake.

‘Are you tired, dear one? I can take you to your room, if you like.'

I hear Mistral's voice as though from a distance. My lips part and it's that feeling again, as though I'm being drawn into a web of silk and gold. My mother's voice cuts through the strands.

‘Bertrand will take her back later.' Her voice is sharp. She squeezes my hand, hard, the glittering fog in my mind dissipating. What the…? Was Mistral trying to mesmerise me?

Not all vampires can mesmerise and, for those who can, it's not something that's socially acceptable. It's used on prey, so to try it on a fellow vampire or, in my case, the human child of one, is the height of rudeness. What the hell is he thinking?

There's no chance to find out. Mistral's attention is back to my mother once more, his lapis-blue gaze a caress. ‘Now, Penelope,' he says, all smoothness. ‘Let us talk vengeance.'

‘Vengeance?' My stomach twists.

‘No.' The word falls, heavy, into the room. My father stares at Mistral, dark brows lowered over his golden eyes. ‘I will not kill breeding stock to send a message. We need to get to the root of the matter, find out who's behind this. They came into my home, for darkness' sake, attacked me! The fact that they were able to do so speaks to an organisation with deeper, more complex roots than mere human rebellion.'

Mistral raises his eyebrows. ‘Are you suggesting vampires are involved? A conspiracy against one of the great families? Who would dare?'

‘Again, a good question.' My father holds Mistral's gaze and, interestingly, it's Mistral who breaks first. His gaze comes to rest on me, blue gold. I look away.

‘What do you mean, kill them?' I ask. But no one answers. I feel like screaming.

‘They tried to murder you, Aleks.' My mother's voice is softer, but there's steel in it. Everyone turns to her. Red is visible in her eyes. ‘Came into the seat of Raven itself. Such a crime cannot go unpunished.' She is cold, now, like a sculpture of snow, glittering and beautiful. She's no longer holding my hand; instead, her fists are clenched, her back straight. Raven, in all her deadly glory. ‘What if Emelia had been standing with you when the bomb went off?' There's silence. ‘We should make an example. Show them the power of Raven.'

‘They know about our power, beloved. It defines every moment of their existence. What use would killing a few humans be? A waste of good stock.' My father's voice is quieter, more reflective. He might argue with Mistral, but he'll do anything for my mother. And she's the true head of Raven. The decision lies with her as to what happens next.

Mistral knows it, too. He raises his hands, holding them wide. ‘I am at your service, Penelope. Give the command and I'll do it.'

‘Do what?' I whisper.

‘A Moon Harvest,' says Mistral. He is like an avenging angel, all gold and fury.

‘A Moon Harvest?' God and darkness. I've never heard of one happening, not since I was born. It's an old practice, from the old world, a night of blood-soaked feasting. Sacrifices, usually drugged in a pretence of consent. Jaguar made a whole religion from it, apparently. I cannot believe my mother is even considering this.

But then I look at my father, burned and broken, and there is rage again, for what could have happened to those I love. But it's tempered with sorrow – with the growing realisation of the many lives vampires have torn apart. It's a strange feeling, to hold such opposing ideas and know them both to be true. I feel like I might almost understand the rebels, while at the same time wanting to destroy them all. A headache is forming, pushing against the edges of my brain. Everything feels strange, as though the room might crack open and expose me to the world, the familiar walls tumbling down, my safety an illusion.

You have no idea who you could be.

My father is looking at me. But my mother is focused on Mistral, silver moon to his golden sun in the dimly lit room. ‘Do it.' Her tone is decisive. ‘But…' She holds up one pale hand. ‘No children. And no one who cannot be proven to be a rebel. Twenty lives. Like the old tributes used to be.'

Twenty lives?

Mistral unfolds himself from the chair, lean and elegant, then kneels in front of my mother. She holds out her hand. He takes it, kissing her long fingers.

I feel sick. ‘But the man, the man who did it – he's already dead.'

All heads turn to me. Mistral is frowning slightly. My father's golden eyes are soft, softer than I remember seeing them.

‘What is it?' he says.

‘I… just. I mean. Er…'

‘Darling girl, these decisions are difficult.' My mother's voice is gentle. Mistral is still on one knee, golden light gleaming from his hair. ‘As Raven you'll have to learn when to make them. Twenty lives are a fair exchange for the attack on your father, don't you see?'

Are they? I don't think I can make decisions like that. Decisions of life and death. Of course Father is important. Of course the people responsible need to pay. But this doesn't seem fair.

‘How will you know?' I say, adrift in a tilted world.

‘How will I know what?' My mother takes my hand. I hang onto her cool fingers as though they're a lifeline.

‘That they're rebels.'

‘I'll make sure of it.' Mistral, pushing in again. I really wish he would just fuck off.

‘How?' I try to sound cool, like my mother. My father's lips twitch.

Mistral's slight frown deepens. ‘We have intelligence forces, dear Emelia, agents who keep me apprised of such things. We are weeding them out, one by one, and?—'

‘Except for the one who attacked Father. Your agents missed him.'

My father coughs behind his hand.

‘Mistral knows what he's doing.' My mother nods to him. ‘So shall it be,' she says. ‘Raven claw, blood and stone.'

He bows his head. ‘Raven claw, blood and stone,' he replies. ‘Your word is my command, as always, my Penelope. It shall be so, at the fireworks, five nights hence.'

The fireworks. I'd forgotten about those. They happen in the week following Halloween, and I love watching them. Usually.

‘This is madness.' The words tumble from me.

‘Emelia.' There is ice in my mother's cool tones, a warning.

‘How can you even consider this? It will just make things worse!'

Mistral speaks. ‘If you become Raven?—'

‘ If I become Raven?' I'm on my feet, my hand slipping from my mother's grasp. ‘I am the next Raven! I didn't realise it involved slaughtering people!'

Okay, I know. I'm going to run away. But it's not up to Mistral to make that decision.

‘Are you questioning your mother's will?' Mistral's voice is hard, his blue eyes narrow slits of sapphire.

‘I'm questioning you . Showing up here, acting like you own the place, leaving my father to burn while you took Mother and?—'

‘Enough!' My mother's voice is whip-sharp. ‘Emelia, I realise this has been a long night, but you cannot speak to Mistral like this. You need to apologise.'

‘What?' Embarrassment rushes through me, a prickling flush. My father seems about to speak, but she raises her hand.

‘Emelia?'

I stare at her, breathing hard. But I will burn before I apologise to Mistral.

‘Fine.' She folds her lips. ‘You are confined to the house for the next little while. For your own safety,' she adds. ‘But also, perhaps you need some time to think about things, and about what becoming Raven will entail.'

Tears prickle my eyes, my breath hitching in my chest.

Mistral is smirking.

I run from the room, stumbling into the hallway. Bertrand follows, but even his familiar bulk feels more like an obstruction than protection, a stone wall I want to smash through. But I can't smash through anything, can't change anything, can't do anything.

‘Can I help, my lady?' Bertrand cuts into my tangled thoughts. I take in a deep breath through my nose, rubbing my forehead. Then, to my deep shame, I burst into tears.

‘Shall I carry you back to your room?'

‘No.' I sniff, wiping my eyes, but the tears won't stop falling. Bertrand follows me as I stumble towards the stairs. When I bang into the wall for the second time he says nothing, scooping me up. I don't protest, leaning against his strong chest, turning my face into his familiar bulk. The air moves and I realise we're at my bedroom door.

‘Emelia! Are you all right?'

Kyle. My heart leaps, despite all I've been through.

‘My lady is tired. It has been a long day for her.' Bertrand's voice rumbles in his chest. I can't see his face, but I get the impression he might be frowning.

‘Put me down, please,' I say, wiping my face, trying to be dignified. Bertrand sets me down. I walk as smoothly as I can into my room, but my foot catches in the rug. Before I can fall Kyle is there, holding me up. I wish I could stay in his arms. Was it only a few hours ago that I was there, my world filled with joy? We stare at each other, his touch like fire, despite how cool he is.

‘Are your parents safe?'

‘Um, yes, they are. I mean, it's all…' My face crumples and to my horror I start crying again.

‘Don't worry. I'll be here to watch over you.'

I flush, despite myself, at the promise in his words.

Bertrand, disapproval in his voice, says, ‘As will I, my lady. Guard cordons will be doubled, for the next little while.'

Kyle says nothing, but his eyes meet mine briefly, a flash of silver. Then he bows, as does Bertrand. They both leave the room, closing the door.

I'm finally alone. Except for my thoughts. Kyle, of course. But, also…

Twenty people.

Humans.

Like me.

I can't let this happen. I need to stop the Moon Harvest. If I can.