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Definition and punctuated, the gash in the air seals and I fall off the back of the stool. No. None of this makes sense. A female laugh comes from the doorway, the real one to my left as I draw in ragged breaths on the floor. Two figures block my escape, their features hidden with the shadows and cobwebs. But I see enough. The outline of a woman in a dress of black rags, cinched at the waist and dipped low in her creamy cleavage. A Tweedle on her arm. The one who’s been lying to me this entire time. The bastard who’s taken me on this quest to keep me from discovering the facts.
Not Tweed.Cash.
38
Eighteen years after Alice’s disappearance
Tweed groans beside my face again, rubbing the side of his neck. Lingering over my crouched position, he keeps leaning into the spot behind my ear to inhale deeply.
“Dude, fuck off,” I shove him away but he comes straight back again. I peer around the corner of the hallway, watching Lillianna stroll towards the lab. Using the key in her hand, she unlocks and opens the door, quickly speaking to someone inside. Not even a beat passes before a woman rushes out, a black cape with silver trim billowing at her back. Long hair of the same, black and silver streaks, flies in her haste, disappearing with Lillianna into another part of the castle. The key sits in the now closed door, glinting at me with a cheeky wink. The wetness of a tongue tip strokes over the vein at my neck and I jerk out of my hiding spot.
“What the hell, dick-face?!” I kick out, knocking him on his ass too. Realizing I’m out in the open, I grab Tweed’s shirt and rush us into the lab with a burst of speed. He stumbles aside, dropping to the ground in the lab while I softly shut the door. Another groan seeps from him while I look at the pitiful display, no need for light. My enhanced sight is enough, and at this current moment in time, I wish it weren’t.
“You need to snap out of it, Tweed. We have a job to do.” I nudge him with the toe of my boot. He rolls onto his side, holding his middle with both arms. This isn’t right. He was unconscious way longer than I was upon receiving the vampire venom last year, and here I was, thinking he was the stronger one of us.
Incoherent words babble from his mouth. I know he’s hungry. I understand the ache of his insides eating away at the blood in his own veins, just to last that bit later before his first feed. But I can’t let him drink blood yet. The hunger only builds after that first taste, becoming an insatiable thirst. Lifting him by his arms with the strength I’ve forced myself to conceal up to now, Tweed lunges for my neck. I dodge him at the last second, pinning him against the wall as his green eyes burst with a glow.
“You won’t be able to drink from me. Focus, Tweed,” I give him a rough shake. “I need your senses in tune for this mission. Once we’re done here, I’ll provide you with enough human blood to last an eternity.” Slight exaggeration but my words seem to do the job. Falling still in my hold, Tweed closes his eyes and collects himself.
“What have you done to me?” he struggles to speak around his newly grown fangs. I place him on the ground, turning to face the lab before us. It has two levels, connected by a winding staircase. The lower level is clearly where all sorts of experiments take place, across two huge workstations of glass bottles and vials. On the platform up above, I note the outline of a cauldron, and given the female I saw recently exit, I shoot that way. Tweed fumbles around in a bid to follow, still adjusting to his heightened eyesight.
Tarot cards are scattered across the floor, the only one upturned being ‘death’. Beneath an oval window, a fountain of shimmering water swirls, black whisps oozing just beneath the surface. Clumps of tied lavender line the windowsill beside a herb grinder. Opening a few cupboards, all I find are bags of herbs and jars of shifting eyes. Interesting, but not the treasure I’m looking for. If I were a poisoned chalice, where would I be?
“B-behind the f-f-f,” I turn when Tweed topples on the last step, only remaining upright by his hold onto the railing. The color has fully drained from his pale skin, his finger trembling as he points towards a picture frame on the wall. An oil painting of a beast with white fur, drool-dripping sharpened teeth and yellow eyes. The Bandersnatch, who to my knowledge is imprisoned beneath Diamond Maze. Although as the painting moves, a silent roar blasts from the creature’s mouth, I’m not so sure.
Trusting Tweed’s instincts, I lift the frame free of the wall. True enough, a cupboard is concealed behind. No lock or handle, just a simple slat of wood imbedded into the wall. Pushing on one side, it releases of its own accord, revealing a chalice inside. Colored jewels are imbedded around the cup, a slender tail leading to the sturdy, golden base. The scent of poison hits my nostrils instantly, burning down to the back of my throat.
Sensing Tweed dragging himself along behind me, I remember the whispered instructions Lillianna gave in my spade suite. ‘Tweed must be the one to retrieve the chalice,’ she’d commented, offering me her wrist. I drank swiftly and greedily, the intoxicating taste of her essence filling my system. Incredibly sweet, overwhelmingly addictive, with the slightest hint of an underlying taste. Similar to licorice with a mix of woodsy pine and lavender, whilst presenting a mild bitterness hiding in-between. Nothing helps me to see clarity like a drop of Lillianna’s blood, her innocence putting my jumbled thoughts into perspective.
“You should take it,” I tell Tweed, stepping aside. “I’ll keep watch.” Ever the brave hero, especially when his body is in full-fight mode, Tweed grabs the chalice from its mount. He holds it close to his nose, sniffing and jerking back. I watch him adjust to his increased smell, wondering if he’s trying to reject his new abilities through pure stubbornness. Surely if he accepted his modified fate, he’d have adapted by now. The door below opens and I duck behind the cauldron faster than the average eye can track. Expecting Tweed to follow, he stands on the platform, fully out in the open.
“Tweed,” I hiss, but it’s too late. His eyes illuminate to lime green and in a burst of speed, he’s gone. A high-pitched scream explodes from below. Shit. By the time I’ve raced to the witch’s aid, she’s already dead. Tweed’s fangs in her neck, he drinks every drop of her blood, draining her until crimson streaks are dripping from his lips. Sighing in contentment, Tweed drops her like she meant nothing, a pleasured shudder running the length of his body. Then, he smiles.
“You good bro?” I ask, uncertainty curdling within. A broad grin splits his face in two, stretching from ear to ear in an image I’ll see later in my nightmares. Before my eyes, Tweed’s body expands, each muscle pushing against his skin. Licking his lips lazily, my twin stands tall, the image of perfect health.
“Never better.” Grin in place, Tweed strides from the room without care for sneaking. I know that look. I’ve seen it in the mirror multiple times, but on him its plain horrifying. Complete satisfaction. Blissful immortality. Where I’ve kept my abilities a secret, Tweed embodies his. Running after him, I urge us to return to the suite but he’s not listening. Bolstered by the power thrumming through his veins, Tweed storms through the castle with confident strides. So much for laying low.
“Tweed, you asshole,” I hiss through my teeth. “You’re going to blow our cover.”
“To who? There’s no one here,” he responds aloud. I halt, standing straight to listen through the walls. No distinguishable heartbeats. No chatter, music…Tweed is right, there’s no life anywhere close by. Aiding him in his hunt, for what I’m not sure, we begin to look inside each room. With the King’s presence close by, I’ve never snooped around Spade Castle before, and apparently, I wasn’t missing much.
Mildew combined with dust-covered furniture are behind each bedroom door. Unmade beds and unhung curtains lay folded at the foot of bare mattresses, ready for a visitor. Taking a grand staircase down, the lower-level presents much of the same. Derelict ballrooms, neglected games areas. My frown increases until we approach a closed door at the end of a corridor and Tweed’s hand flashes out to halt me.
“You smell that?” he asks. I step by his side, inhaling deeply. Yeah, I smell it – the lingering scent of death. Rigor mortis has just begun to set in, Tweed’s nose twitching as he adjusts to the foul odor. After a recent feed, his senses will be intensely strong, but it won’t last long. Then he’ll crave more blood, searching for the high he can’t get enough of. The patter of a single heartbeat catches my ear as Tweed twists the old-fashioned doorknob and shoves the door wide.
Flies. Out of everything my mind tries to accept in that moment, flies are what it picks out. Stuck to the bright chandelier at the top of the heightened dining room. Crawling across an uneaten buffet stretching from one end of the main table to the other. Buzzing around the body of a bull-headed man who is face down in his own plate.
“Lillianna?” I step inside, holding a hand over my nose. “What’s going on here?” The Queen Consort lifts a steak knife from the table, her golden eyes looking at me with such adoration, she doesn’t fit the scene around her. Nudging up the sleeve puffing from her shoulder to wrist, she holds my gaze as the blade pushes against her skin and slices in a sharp, single movement. Her blood markers fill the air and I’m a slave to my own greed. Shoving Tweed aside before he gets any ideas, I shoot across the room and have her wrist in my mouth before I can think any more on the dead body beside me.
Lavender and pine skate over my tongue, a taste that’s uniquely hers. Drinking her in, gulping the blood I need to live on, Lillianna invades my senses. The haze of satisfaction falls over me, drowning out the confusion in my mind. All that remains is peace and understanding.
“Cash,” Lillianna whispers into my ear as I lick her wound clean. “The King tried to kill me. I didn’t have a choice.” My eyes seek out hers, my tongue still touching her wrist. “It was self-defense, but no one will believe me. They’ll say I’m an outsider who killed her husband for his riches.” Lifting my head, I cup her cheek.
“What do you need me to do?” Lillianna’s gold eyes flick over my shoulder to where Tweed would be standing. Her lips lean into whisper in my ear.
“Tweed is holding the poisoned chalice. We can let him take the blame.” My head jerks, knocking Lillianna’s cheek but her hand slithers to my nape, holding me in place. “The new Red Queen is fond of him. She’ll spare him the harsh punishment I would receive. I’d be dead by morning, Cash.” Desperation leaks from Lillianna’s tone and my eyes drift to the darkened window at her back. Rain continues to fall heavily, but underneath the thunderous sound, is another. Almost indistinguishable, but once tuned in, I can’t unhear it. The repetitive echo of marching.
Soldiers storm the main entrance, turning for the dining room without need for instruction. Ox and Bison with heavy hooves, all dressed in armor and chainmail stamped with a heart. Arabelle is in the center of them, her nose creasing and brow furrowed. Tweed’s head snaps back, the army parting for him as a member of their own. I anticipate his actions but make no move to stop him. Lillianna’s hand curls around my arm.
