Revelations, page 9
Ysanne obviously thought the same, because as Etienne headed out of the dining hall, Ysanne caught Dexter’s eye and gave him a tiny nod. Dexter patted my shoulder, then followed Etienne.
“Come on,” Ludovic said to me in a low voice.
He was trying to keep me away from Etienne, I realized, with a warm rush of gratitude.
As we left the dining hall, I looked back at Ysanne, but her back was to me, as she faced the Council. I couldn’t read a single emotion on any of their faces. I’d never liked that about vampires, but it made me especially uneasy when there was so much at stake, so much that I couldn’t control.
In the vestibule, I paused. Dexter and Etienne had already disappeared, but two security guards in black uniforms stood by the front door, and that made my skin prickle all over again. Security patrolled the grounds all around the house and guarded the back exit so no donor could go outside without permission, but I’d never seen them guarding the front door until today. I knew why it was necessary, but it felt wrong, somehow.
A faint noise came from outside, and I tilted my head, listening. It sounded like voices—lots and lots of voices.
“What’s going on?” I asked Ludovic.
“About half an hour ago people started gathering at the gates.
We’re not sure who they are yet, but we have to consider the possibility that someone in Belle Morte has leaked information about everything that’s happened.”
“But they’re definitely human?”
“It’s daylight outside. No new vampire could withstand the sun for this long.”
“Maybe they’re the families of the people who died in the attack,”
I said. There were no computers in Belle Morte and donors weren’t allowed phones, so their only way of communicating with friends and family was via letters. Since only three days had passed, it was unlikely that any of the dead donors’ families knew that anything was wrong yet. But what about the families of the staff and security guards who’d been killed? They went home at the end of their shifts, so surely someone had missed them by now.
“I don’t know what Ysanne’s done about that,” Ludovic admitted.
“But we have next of kin on record for everyone who comes into Belle Morte, and no one at the gates today is known to anyone inside this house.”
“They’re random strangers? Doesn’t that seem weird to you?”
“Protestors have gathered at our gates before. Not everyone likes vampires,” Ludovic said. He gestured to the staircase on our left.
“Maybe you’d feel better if we went to see your friends?”
“I’m not so sure about that,” I muttered, remembering how Roux had reacted last time. Then again, she had let me feed from her.
I gazed up the stairs, thinking of the two wings where vampires and donors slept. “What do I do while Edmond’s locked up? Am I supposed to stay in his room?”
“It’s where you’ve been these last three days,” Ludovic said.
“Yeah, but I don’t remember any of that.”
“Do you feel uncomfortable staying there?”
I tried to find words to describe how I was feeling. “Not uncomfortable, exactly, but it doesn’t feel right when he’s not there. Does that make sense?”
Ludovic nodded, his eyes shadowed. “We do have a spare room now, if you’d prefer that.”
“Whose—oh.”
Rosa had been one of the casualties, and even though I hadn’t known her, I felt a pang in my chest for the vampire who’d never again return to her room.
“I can’t do that,” I said.
The only thing worse than taking over Edmond’s bedroom while he was imprisoned would be moving into the room of a recently murdered woman, whose friends were probably still coming to terms with her death.
“You know you can’t stay in the south wing anymore, don’t you?”
Ludovic said.
I scuffed the carpet with my foot. I couldn’t go back to my old room even if vampires were allowed to sleep in that wing—Jason had moved in now. When their contracts were up, he and Roux would leave Belle Morte, and I wouldn’t. Becoming a vampire meant I had a real future with Edmond, but it also meant I could lose my friends, and even thinking that made my chest ache.
“I’m having a hard time working out where I belong,” I muttered.
Ludovic awkwardly patted my shoulder, like he wasn’t used to doing it. “Why don’t we go to Edmond’s room and see if you can get used to it?” he said.
“Actually, can we go to the library?” That had always been my favorite room in the house, the place where I’d felt calmest.
“Of course.”
Edmond
How long would he be down here? At some point would the monotony override the pain?
Closing his eyes, he thought of Renie. He’d suffer this a thousand times over and worse if it meant she was safe, and once he was free, all the pain would be worth it. Then he could hold her, kiss her, start a life with her.
Somewhere inside the mansion a scream broke out, and Edmond’s eyes flew open. The voice wasn’t Renie’s, but fear was an icy blast inside him nonetheless—something was seriously wrong inside Belle Morte, and Renie was up there.
Another scream rang out, a deep male voice this time, and a moment later Edmond heard the faint crash of breaking glass. Was Belle Morte under attack again?
He threw himself against the chains, fighting them with every bit of strength he had left. They gnawed through the flesh of his wrists, and the pain was like fire; blood streamed down his arms, splattering on the stone floor around him. But he couldn’t break free.
Edmond screamed with fury and frustration, his fangs bursting from his gums.
He’d accepted his punishment when he was thrown down here, knowing it was the consequence for turning Renie, but now she was up there alone, facing who knew what, and he was trapped down here, powerless, helpless.
Without these chains, he’d have ripped through a thousand enemies to protect Renie.
But right now he wasn’t even strong enough to protect himself.
Chapter ten
Renie
I was sitting on one of the library’s plush sofas, idly picking at a cushion and wondering what to say to Ludovic, who hovered by the bookshelves like a bodyguard, when the screaming started.
Before I could even react, Ludovic moved in front of me with predatory grace, ready to shield me from anything that might come through the door.
“What the hell is that?” I said, clutching the back of the sofa.
“I don’t know.”
I jumped up but Ludovic grabbed my arm before I could take another step.
“Don’t even think about going out there,” he warned.
“But someone’s in trouble.”
Ludovic’s grip on my wrist didn’t relax. “I promised Edmond I’d take care of you.”
“Listen—”
Ludovic stiffened and swung back to the door, still keeping me behind him.
“Someone’s out there,” he said.
My heart climbed into my throat.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Ludovic said. His voice was low and hard, and edged with violence in a way I’d never heard before.
I remembered what Edmond had told me about how he and Ludovic had met, fighting side by side in the blasted trenches of the First World War, and almost felt a pang of pity for whoever was stupid enough to cross him. Ludovic looked like he was ready to rip someone apart.
The library door burst open and Roux and Jason stumbled in, both of them wide-eyed and breathing hard.
“You’re okay,” Roux cried.
She ran to us and shoved Ludovic out of the way so she could hug me. Ludovic blinked at her.
“What’s going on?” I said.
Jason closed the library door and hurried to join us. “They’re back,” he said.
“Who?”
He looked at the door and lowered his voice to a frantic whisper.
“The vampires who attacked the house a few days ago.”
Ludovic went very still, his eyes flickering red.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” I said, scanning Roux and Jason for injuries.
“We’re fine. We heard the screams and we came looking for you, and . . .” Roux trailed off.
“Someone let them in,” Jason said. “The back door’s wide open, no guards, and there are vampires everywhere.”
“How many?” Ludovic asked.
“I have no idea. Just . . . a lot.”
“But they didn’t try to hurt us,” Roux chimed in. “They saw us, but it was like they didn’t care that we were there.”
A chill rushed over me. “Is this about me? Is Etienne sending them to finish the job?”
“That’s not going to happen,” Roux said fiercely, clutching my hand.
“But people are getting hurt. We all heard the screams so—”
Realization slammed into me like a freight train, and I swayed on the spot. Ludovic caught my elbow. “Oh my god,” I whispered. “Etienne told me that a revolution was coming, and what does a revolution do? It gets rid of the leaders.”
Ludovic’s eyes widened. “The Council,” he said.
I ran for the door before he could stop me. At the back of my mind a voice screamed at me to stop, wait, because the last time I’d done this I’d got myself killed, but I couldn’t hide in the library while Etienne went after the Council, especially not when most of them didn’t seem to realize he was the bad guy.
Ludovic caught me before I reached the end of the hallway, and clapped a hand over my mouth. I wasn’t stupid enough to fight him.
“Just wait,” he said.
A scuffle sounded from somewhere around the corner, the thud of a body hitting a wall or a floor, a strangled cry, and an awful wet noise that sounded like someone smashing a melon with a hammer.
Roux whimpered and clutched Jason’s arm.
Despite Ludovic’s promise to keep me safe, he couldn’t ignore that something bad was happening around that corner. He took his hand from my mouth, the hard look in his eyes warning me to keep quiet. Then he crept down the hall, keeping close to the wall; I copied him, Roux and Jason close behind. Newly turned vampires couldn’t compete with older ones when it came to strength, so none of them could take Ludovic one-on-one, but they could probably overpower him with sheer numbers. I guessed Ludovic hadn’t survived a war by being reckless.
He looked around the corner. His whole body tensed, and he swore under his breath; I peeked around him because I had to. I was too tangled up in this to be shielded now.
Ysanne stood halfway down the hall, her pencil skirt and silk blouse a patchwork of blood and gore. Several bodies were strewn at her feet, and five snarling vampires surrounded her, trying to box her in so they could land a blow. Charles lay close by, his eyes fixed sightlessly on the ceiling, his chest looking like a small bomb had gone off behind his ribs. Just outside the fray, Dexter leaned against the wall, one hand pressed against his side. Blood seeped through his fingers, and his face was gray.
A black-uniformed guard rushed toward them from the vestibule, brandishing the silver-coated knife that all members of Belle Morte security carried, and my heart lifted, because the guard would reach Ysanne before we could.
He did.
Then he plunged the knife between her ribs.
Ysanne snarled and staggered, her eyes flashing with pain, and the guard pulled the knife free, preparing to stab her again.
Ludovic got there first.
He streaked down the hall like lightning and grabbed the guard by the throat. The guard slashed with the knife but Ludovic easily dodged, and the blade sailed harmlessly by his face.
Ludovic slammed the guard’s head against the wall and he dropped like a stone. Two of the vampires turned on Ludovic; one of them aimed a punch and Ludovic grabbed the man’s arm and snapped it like a dry twig. The vampire screamed and fell to his knees.
I was as strong as those vampires now. I should help Ludovic. But having vampire strength didn’t mean I knew how to use it—I’d never thrown a punch in my life, and I was terrified to leave Roux and Jason.
While I dithered, two of the vampires shoved Ysanne hard against the wall, trying to pin her down, and she should have handled them easily, but her clothes were soaked with blood from her wound—the silver blade would have done far more damage than a regular one.
I had to help her.
But Dexter got there first.
With a roar, he launched himself at the nearest vampire and tackled him to the floor in a sprawl of limbs. Light flashed off the silver blade of his knife as he plunged it into the vampire’s chest.
Ludovic grabbed the second vampire and broke her neck with a loud crack. It wouldn’t kill her, but it took her out of the fight.
The three remaining vampires hesitated, torn between Ysanne and Ludovic, and Ludovic moved before they could decide. One devastating punch sent a man to the floor, his jaw horribly dislocated.
Another punch sent a woman reeling into Ysanne. Ysanne promptly stabbed the woman with the knife she’d picked up from the floor.
The final vampire was smart enough to run, and Ludovic didn’t give chase. He turned to Ysanne and gripped her elbow with one hand, supporting her as she leaned against the wall, her eyes bright and flashing with pain.
Dexter gave a hoarse gasp and slumped to the floor beside the vampire he’d killed.
“Dexter?” I ran to him.
Blood steadily pulsed from a wound on the left of his stomach; his T-shirt was soaked through. His eyes were wide and unfocused and his breath rattled in his lungs.
“Oh god, hold on.” I pressed both palms against his wound but he shook his head.
“Run. Save yourselves,” he gasped.
“I’m not leaving you.”
Dexter grasped my hand with blood-slicked fingers. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.”
I realized with a jolt of horror that I could hear the frenzied flutter of his heartbeat in his chest. It was weak, irregular, and I knew that he was dying. My eyes burned.
“Please,” I whispered.
He tried to shake his head, but even that movement made his face scrunch with pain. “My ticket’s punched.”
With a shaking hand he pulled the little gold locket from beneath his T-shirt. Only minutes had passed since he’d shown it to me—how was that possible? It felt like days. Dexter slid the locket over his head and pressed it into my hand. His fingers left bloody imprints on my skin.
“Give this to my daughter,” he whispered.
“I promise.” I slipped the necklace into my pocket; it didn’t feel right to wear it.
Dexter managed to smile, and then the light faded from his eyes, the glassiness of death stealing over them. I actually heard his heart stop, and I let out a wretched cry, but there was no time to grieve now. Belle Morte was crawling with enemies, and the most precious thing in my world was still chained and helpless down in the cells.
“Edmond,” I whispered.
Chapter eleven
Renie
Ysanne batted Ludovic’s hand away. Her other hand was pressed tightly against her ribs.
“It’s a scratch,” she said, but the pain in her voice and the blood spilling between her fingers told a different story.
Ludovic looked up and down the hallway, checking for more attackers. We could hear people shouting and the occasional crash but there were no more screams, and I had no idea how to interpret that, nor did I care at that moment. If Etienne wanted to take Edmond out, now was the perfect time, when Edmond couldn’t fight back. I had to get to him first.
“Have you got the key to the cells?” I asked Ysanne.
Ysanne reached into a pocket in her skirt that I hadn’t even known was there and pulled out a tiny key with bloodied fingers.
I reached out to take it but she pulled it back.
“We can’t go through the dining hall. There are too many of them,”
she said.
“I have to get to Edmond.”
Ysanne shook her head. It was the first time that I’d seen her sleek blond hair look disheveled, and that was almost as wrong as seeing her covered in blood. Ysanne was always picture-perfect, no matter what.
“There’s another way,” she said. “Follow me.”
She strode past me, her high heels stabbing into the carpet, and if it wasn’t for all the blood, I’d never have known anything was wrong.
But how long would that last?
Ysanne had lived for hundreds and hundreds of years, but no vampire was invulnerable to silver.
She led us back the way we’d come, but before we reached the corner that turned off toward the library, she veered right, into a short stretch of hall that led between two feeding rooms.
Directly ahead of us was the meditation room, the door left open to show a glimpse of white walls and a white floor, with pastel-colored mats rolled and stacked in one corner.
Ysanne held up a hand and we all stopped, pressed flat against the wall. Two vampires I didn’t recognize ran past, and farther down the hall I heard voices.
“Did you find her?” someone said.
“Not yet. She’s here somewhere. Keep looking,” said another voice.
I glanced at Ysanne. Were they talking about me or her?
Ysanne kept her hand raised until the voices moved away from us, then she made a beckoning gesture. We hurried into the meditation room, and Ludovic closed the door behind us. Ysanne led us across the room, blood dripping from her wound, creating a macabre Pollock painting on the white floor. Anyone who opened the door would know we’d been here. At the back of the meditation room, a door led into a small feeding room, with mint walls and a carpet of palest gray, furnished only with a chaise longue and a large painting of a woman in Elizabethan dress on the farthest wall. I’d never been in here before. There was still so much of Belle Morte I didn’t know, and it made the thought of living here permanently seem even stranger.
