Page 19 of Bloodgrove

“Wait—you cannot go out there!”

“But the night has only just begun,” Mr. Arcos replied without turning, and vanished into the dark. Will caught one last glimpse of him as he drew a concealed blade from his walking stick.

Howls, whimpers, and screams that sounded far too human made Will shudder, but he remained in the doorway until silence returned. Then he closed it and slid the bolt into place.

Will stared at the stripped wall. Large brown stains soaked the stone where dark wallpaper had once decorated the ballroom. He would have to find some way to conceal the dried blood. Thoughtfully, he tapped the end of his pencil against his lower lip, but his mind began to wander.

The night before, the naked young men and women carved into the bedposts had taunted him, singing and sighing as they writhed in the moonless dark and invited him to join them—to free them from their restraints and ease them with his desire. Neither cold water nor a pillow pressed over his head had helped, until at last he broke and gave in. Until he offered himself to them with one hand beneath the sheets and finally came, accompanied by their mockery and encouragement.

In the morning, he had felt filthy because he had dreamed of lust and longing rather than horror at a woman’s death. Perhaps a nightmare would have been easier, though he had no wish to carry another worm inside him.

He sensed Elodie’s presence before he heard her light steps over stone and rubble. Caught off guard, he flushed. He could no longer say whether one of the faces that had tormented him in his dreams had been hers, or whether one of the statues had taken on her soft curves. He blamed it on her presence, which he could never entirely shut out, no matter where he was in the house—the way the silence of the grand townhouse would suddenly change when she entered a room, as though something had settled.

“None of the workers has said a word about all this blood,” he began when she stopped beside him. He really did not want to discuss the incident.

“What would they say? Every house of rank has secrets like these. But most have the decency to indulge them in tiled rooms.”

He looked at her in surprise. Her expression was as composed as ever, but something in her voice—a tremor low in her throat—betrayed her. The ballroom had gotten under her skin.

“I do not know whether painting over it will be enough.” He kept his tone professional. It was none of his concern.

“I have samples of silk wallpaper. If we order quickly, it could arrive before New Year’s.”

“Risky.” But they both knew they would choose that solution.

At times, it startled him how closely their tastes aligned. He admired her dress today as well, high-necked and long-sleeved as always, made from the deepest black. Unadorned, it covered nearly every inch of her body. A row of buttons ran from her tightly cinched waist, over the swell of her breasts and the smooth plane above them, all the way to her swanlike throat. Yet the white lace at the collar and cuffs made it truly captivating. With every step, white petticoats flashed beneath the skirt, as though she were allowing the observer a glimpse of some secret hidden under her black shell.

“I am receiving guests tomorrow. I advise you to remain in your room.” Something in her usual warmth fell away.

“Of course.”

Chapter 10

Night fell, and the grand townhouse filled with strange sounds. Will sat beside the window, open only a crack, listening to the vampires howl outside. He shuddered, but at least he knew what those noises were. The voices and cries from inside the house were far more unsettling. Where his little toe had once been, he felt a tingling and the pressure of shoe leather, like the touch of a ghost.

The tower clock struck midnight.

He was restless, driven by an unease in his blood that surged and roared with the distant waves of the sea and the voices on the floor below. After the night at the opera, he should have known better, but his first encounter with another person’s magic had left him curious. With his loose nightshirt tucked into his trousers, Will crept to the door and eased it open a crack.

The corridor stretched before him, empty and dark. The moon was still too young to offer much light, so Will set off with a candleholder in hand.

Wax dripped onto his skin, but he welcomed the small pain.

He knew Elodie had wanted to keep him hidden, but he would be careful. Magic sang to him, familiar as his mother’s voice and distant as if from a grave.

The future and progress had no need for magic, and he understood why it had been forbidden. He did not mean to defy everything the Capitol had taught him. He just wanted a glimpse.

A maid hurried past him, her light vanishing around a corner.

Will stopped. Listened. Her light footsteps faded into the sound of unfamiliar instruments playing somewhere far away. He followed them, descending floor after floor, past the open doors of the battlefield that had once been the ballroom. Silence and darkness. Then past the dining room, where the table lay forgotten beneath the remains of a banquet. The candles had burned low, and the last went out with a hiss in its own wax. The smell of soot and wine hung thick in the air.

Will crept onward, following a trail of empty glasses, discarded scarves, and lost slippers. It led him to the third floor, to the hall where he had first met the duchess. Portraits still lined the corridor outside, dark ancestors tracking his steps and whispering about the intruder.

The door stood open a crack. Will extinguished his candles, then moved closer without a sound and peered inside.

Figures moved in the blue-green glow of faerie lights. They knelt in a wide circle, their arms resting on their neighbors’ shoulders, swaying to a wordless chant. The air was dense and heavy with scent; Will could taste it on his tongue: blood and salt, earth and ash.

“Friends, tonight is the night!” Elodie called from the center of the circle. She stood beside a massive table, more an altar, candles burning around its base while red wax ran down it like blood. “Pride will be their downfall, and indolence their end. Again and again, they underestimate us. They think we are content to endure the same monsters that tormented our parents! That they can continue as they always have, laughing at us, without ever seeing us rise in vengeance! The battle has begun.” Her voice trembled with barely restrained emotion, but she was too far away for Will to tell what it was. Anger? Zeal? Greed? Excitement?