AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Carden McCloud was here, and these vampires wanted to destroy him, tonight.
Except I would find him first.
“Have the young female clear these,” one of the vampires said in German, clinking a fork against his glass. “I have a taste for your brandy. ”
Jacob gave me the order, and I went from seat to seat, gathering the glassware and making room for brandy snifters. As I was clearing, something caught my eye, and I did what was either the cleverest or the stupidest thing of my life.
A pretty, lone steak knife had drifted between place settings, forgotten amidst all the plates and cutlery. But I saw it—it was sharp, shining, and calling my name. Its handle was thin and elegant, and with a blade tapered to a fine point, it was balanced, looking eminently throwable.
I dropped a soiled linen napkin over it. I gathered glasses and arranged them on my tray. Then I plucked up the napkin, knife and all.
My ears buzzed, I was so panicked somebody had seen what I did. I was terrified that at any moment claws would grab me from behind and teeth rip into my flesh. But the conversation continued as before, a jovial wine-soaked hum.
I hustled down toward the kitchens, pausing on the spiral stairs, my heart pounding and sweat trickling down my back. The passageway was miniscule, each step just a tiny, triangular sliver, and I leaned against the wall for balance. The stone cooled my damp back, and the glasses clinked on my precariously balanced tray.
Using one hand, I hiked up my skirts and slid the knife inside my panties, along the hip. I flipped it over twice, twisting the fabric to hold it tightly in place.
I smoothed my dress and scurried all the way down, navigating the darkened corridors. Adrenaline coursed through me, and my senses were heightened, hyperaware of every sound and every movement around me.
And then I perceived a slight shift behind me. I was going to ignore it. Until I smelled it.
The unexpected stench of sulfur.
I turned. It was then I saw her. The hair gave her away—even pulled taut into a bun, even in the shadows, that maple hair gleamed, impossibly.
Lilac.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I had to concentrate. That was just nerves getting to me, because there was no freaking way that could’ve been Lilac.
Lilac von Straubing. My enemy. The girl I’d beaten—supposedly killed.
It was as if the world tilted on its axis, and everything went all melty and surreal, the torches brighter, the hallway darker. I turned again, my heart in my throat.
But the Lilac look-alike was farther away now, trailing some long, lithe, mysteriously hooded vampire like a shadow. They disappeared around a corner.
Was I imagining that she’d shuffled away quickly? That she’d looked nervous? Was my mind playing tricks, or had she stolen one last glimpse of me? I’d know her anywhere—I saw that maple hair and heard the flick-flick of her lighter in my nightmares.
But surely it wasn’t Lilac. Not only had I killed her; this girl seemed way too subservient to be von Slutling. It was my imagination going haywire under the stress, or maybe it was some bad vampire mojo in the air, making my greatest fears materialize before my eyes. Because Lilac’s survival was inconceivable, impossible.
Unthinkable.
Either way, I was shaken. There was no way I could’ve gone back upstairs to serve brandy with anything remotely resembling composure.
Upstairs. The thought jolted me back into the moment.
McCloud was going to be destroyed…and soon. That was what needed my focus. I had to find McCloud and do my job before I experienced any other hallucinations.
I’d prove Ronan wrong—not only would I survive the mission; I’d make it a success. I’d discover McCloud’s whereabouts and report back to Alcántara, who now seemed to offer all the comforts of an old and trusted friend. And then I’d make my getaway, disappearing forever, and Ronan would rue the day he’d doubted me.
One of the head matrons bustled by, and I darted my eyes down, bursting into a brisk walk and trying to look busy. But I caught sight of my apron—it was white, while all the head maids’ aprons were black. It gave me an idea.
I scurried into the kitchen and back to the scullery, the small room where the dishes were cleaned. “Ingrid wants you,” I told the scullery maid in German, repeating a name I’d heard in passing.
Apparently I’d chosen well, because the girl hustled out. It left me alone. I quickly cleared my tray, darting my eyes around the room. A basket in the corner held a pile of dirty rags, with a black apron balled on top.
I made a beeline for it, tearing my apron off and pulling the black one on. The lap of it was soaked, stinking of chicken broth. I pulled off my white cap, too, shoving it all to the bottom of the dirty laundry. Then I smoothed my hair, snagged seven empty brandy glasses for my tray, and walked brusquely into the hall.
