Home > The Vampire Curse(6)

The Vampire Curse(6)
Author: Ali Winters

Dealing with vampires is not the same as what I'm used to. This is akin to walking into the forest in the dead of night and challenging a demon to possess me just to see how it would rip me apart.

I wring my hands. The longer I have to stand here and wait until I'm summoned, the more I begin to doubt my ability to pull this off.

A knock sounds and I nearly jump out of my skin.

“Come in,” I call.

Mr. Steward enters and looks me up and down, appraisingly. He tsks and stalks over to the foot of my bed where the thick choker necklace still sits.

“Turn around,” he says.

I do. He clasps it around my neck, and I have to resist the urge to rip it off. It feels like I'm being strangled.

“They will see you do not have the marks without it,” Mr. Steward admonishes. “You haven’t touched your food either.”

I shrug. Who in my position could eat? “I’m ready,” I say.

Without another word, he motions for me to follow. I take a deep breath and blow it out, focusing on calming my heartbeat, then I stride after him.

Mr. Steward stops when we reach the library and turns to me. “You will do just fine, Miss, Valmont.”

I stare slack-jawed. For someone who isn’t fond of me or my presence here, he is strangely encouraging. I would say almost fatherly with his concern and making sure I’m ready, but I don’t know what to expect from a real father.

My father has only ever demanded I do whatever was necessary to bring home money for his gambling and to put food on the table.

Of course, it hadn’t started out that way. At first, I had done so willingly at his request as he struggled to save the floundering trade business. But after Mother was claimed and reported back to us as dead, his addiction to spirits overwhelmed him. Within a few years, the responsibility of keeping the roof over our heads had fallen on my shoulders. My thoughts turn from him to Kitty…

I miss her. I hope she is doing well. With these guests here, I don't know how or when I can return to her.

I don’t trust Father to get her the medication she needs. I hope she used the money I stashed and secured herself a decent marriage with one of the younger men in town. But she mentioned nothing about the money or her medicine in the one letter I've received.

She expects me home soon, and I can only guess that's why it remains the only letter I’ve received since coming here.

We turn down a hall, away from the drawing room near the front of the manor, and the dim lighting pulls me from my thoughts of home.

“Are we not going to the drawing room?”

Mr. Steward lists his head to the side. “No, the music room is more suitable for this occasion.”

The doors are closed and he motions for me to stay. The butler straightens his shoulders and puffs up his chest, then opens one door, taking a single step inside.

Voices float out into the hallway, but not loud enough to make out what they are saying. Then Alaric’s warm timbre silences the room with a single word.

Mr. Steward clears his throat and bows. Then he straightens and says, “Introducing, the Lady Clara.”

I swear my heart freezes in my chest. Lady? I'm no lady. Why didn’t Alaric warn me I had to act like a lady on top of everything else?

The butler backs out of the room and motions for me to enter. I take a shaky step forward, and steeling my spine, I focus on slowing my pounding pulse.

My feet move forward. Slow and steady. My mind races wildly, too fast to take everything in. Somehow I manage to keep my features placid and emotionless.

The closest vampire is the one from last night. Mr. Harkstead. His blond hair is tied back by a leather cord at the nape of his neck. It’s odd how human he looks.

He nods in my direction. I almost falter at the lack of intimidation in his demeanor. From the short conversation we had in the library, I had expected him to try.

Behind him on one of the sofas is a woman with black hair cut into a chin-length bob—red jewels around the neckline accent her black gown.

She doesn’t bother looking up. A man, barefoot and shirtless, kneels on the floor before her, arm raised, her mouth pressed to his wrist. She strokes his cheek as she opens her mouth and bites down.

My stomach churns.

The other two male vampires stare at me as though they can see straight through me.

The man with silver blond hair holds a woman to him. She is nearly limp in his arms, her head lulled to the side, neck exposed.

The last vampire is a man with short hair that is a mix of gold and umber. Two women sit at his feet, grasping at his legs. One looks weak and sickly pale, blood streaks down her neck, soaking her dress from the collar down her chest. The other has several puncture marks along her arms. Neither seem to notice anything else—they only want his attention, his touch. Their desperation is nearly palpable.

But he is looking at me like he has yet to drink his fill. The red rings around his irises are so thick they almost seem to glow even from across the room.

Demons and saints, what in the Otherworld have I walked into?

I wonder if any of the humans in this room will make it out alive, or if they will all be dead long before the sun rises.

The door closes behind me with a soft click, leaving me locked inside a veritable viper’s nest.

“Clara,” Alaric’s voice drawls to my right.

My gaze drifts to him. One second he is standing beside the piano, in the next, he is closing the distance with long strides. His arm wraps around my waist and his mouth crashes down on mine. My first instinct is to pull away, but I can’t.

I let myself melt into him, returning the embrace as if I mean it.

He ends the kiss then he offers me a glass filled with a red liquid. I take it without hesitation.

Obey… obey…

A quick sniff of the contents tells me it’s wine. I take a sip, watching Alaric through my eyelashes. Then I take a longer drink, and another, until my glass is empty.

The murmuring conversations resume. I can feel them watching us, looking for any sign of weakness.

Alaric snaps his fingers and a woman with bite marks along her wrists hurries over, carrying a silver platter with several more filled glasses. He takes my empty cup and sets it down on the tray, retrieving a full one and handing it to me.

His fingers linger on mine a second longer than necessary, then he bends his head down, nuzzling my ear and whispers, “You will want to pace yourself, my dear Clara. There are still the introductions to be made.”

He leads me to a settee. Despite his warning, I empty my second glass before we are halfway across the room.

We turn to sit, but there is already a vampire standing before us.

“Mr. Harkstead,” I blurt.

I have absolutely no idea if I should have spoken or if I'm expected to talk only when given permission. There are so many unknowns to this night.

“Please,” he says with a genuine smile. “Call me Lawrence. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Lady Valmont.” He emphasizes the false title, with a surprising lack of mockery.

Then the three of us make small talk. I am stupefied at how normal this feels. Alaric’s fingers press into my waist in a comforting gesture.

“I look forward to seeing you around, Clara,” Lawrence says.

He takes a step back but stops when the female hooks her arm through his and leans her head on his shoulder. Out of the five vampires in this room, she is the only female among them.

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