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He gets to his knees and crawls to her. “Je t’aime, belle. Ne pleure pas,” he coos. “What are you doing down here?”
“The box... we opened it,” she explains.
“Ah,” he says, nodding his head. “You have questions.”
“There are hundreds of pages, and most of what we’ve read is repeated from the other journals,” I say.
His eyebrows meet in the middle. “Other journals?” He scratches at his chin. “Ah, yes. Bellamy did mention he had constructed other journals and hidden them in various places, to keep anyone looking off the scent of the true journal.”
“If that’s the case, what is it we should be looking for?” Addy asks. “What was so important about that one journal that it had to be hidden?”
He sighs. “When he brought me the key, all he said was I should turn to the last page. He said the secret was hidden there.”
I turn to leave, wanting nothing more than to uncover the secret, but stop when I have another thought. “I have a few more questions.”
Addy turns to me, but her father doesn’t even look up. Regardless, I forge on.
“Do you know who killed Julian’s father?”
Pain, sadness, regret, and something else I can’t quite place cross over Dupré’s features. He shakes his head. “I don’t. If I knew, they’d already be dead.”
“You cared that much about him?”
He scoffs as though my question is ridiculous. “He was my closest friend. The one who helped me get through the hardest years of my life.” As much as I want to dissect that statement, I have too many other more important questions. The life of Count Dupré isn’t on the top of my list of concerns.
“How did he know he was going to die?” That’s been bothering me. If he knew they were coming for him, why didn’t he stop it? “He never told you who?”
“No. He knew thatsomeonewas coming for him, but not who. Shante had a vision. She told him that someone on his Council was working with black witches to end his life.”
“Why didn’t he stop it?” I press.
“He had already come to terms with his fate. Welcomed it, even.” He sighs. “He used the time he had to ensure the secret wouldn’t die with him.”
“Do you know who these the black witches were?”
He barks a humorless laugh. “Outside of Shante, I don’t know any witches,” he spits. “I would never mess with the likes of them.”
“The Bellamys trust Shante. You don’t?”
“She earned their trust, but not mine,” he says, shaking his head. “Witches have their own agendas, and they only work with vampires if it benefits them.”
The journal entry named Shante’s sister, Yvette. I file that away to ask Julian about later. It’s clear from the way Dupré speaks of witches that I won’t get an unbiased answer from him.
“Why did you try to kill me?” I ask once more.
“I don’t care what happens to you,” he sneers. “I have no need for humans.”
“Why?” I’m not sure why it’s important to me, but this vampire’s life will likely come down to my testimony to Julian. If I’m going to condemn Addy’s father to death, I need to be sure it’s for the right reasons.
“I was human. They’re spineless creatures who only care about themselves. Julian’s father knew it too. He never cared until he learned of the familiars.”
He spits the wordfamiliarslike it’s a curse and in this moment, I’m glad he seems to be oblivious to who I am.
“When my humanity was stripped away by the gene activating, my human friends that I attempted to contact for help turned their backs on me. They villainized me. They created legends about vampires and how we should be feared. The people I trusted most turned out to be my greatest disappointment.” His head lowers. “I have no intention of ever feeling that pain again.”
Despite the fact he trapped me in a wall, my heart breaks for the count. I never considered what an isolating life he must’ve led. Having witnessed Shannon’s transformation, I can only guess as to how bad it was for him, being one of the first. He was alone.
That would make anyone bitter. Perhaps there’s a chance he could change. Maybe he could come to trust humans at some point.
