Page 101 of The Girl in the Forest

Opulence was the preferred design—everything and then some. Flowers arched from standing vases in fantastic displays of lilies and blood roses, ferns and ivies. A fountain spilled streams of pale, bubbling liquid—champagne, I decided, watching several giggling women fill glasses which were suddenly tinged red. Blood red, jewel-toned red. A red they held up to the light as if evaluating purity.

Everywhere, beauty and elegance glittered, but it could not outshine the underlying depravity. Manacled to the stone wall were bodies—men, women. Arms stretched wide. Legs spread, reminding me of Leonardo da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man. Only these men, women, were still alive, if one judged by the occasional twitch of a foot. A hand.

Julien hung in a prominent position. I came close to retching when I saw him. Julien, who had carried me to safety more than once. I closed my eyes. Shook beneath the guilt. Was he manacled to that wall because of me? Because I’d wanted information on Brin? Wanted to punish the people who took her? Grayson wouldn’t have asked for the information if I hadn’t insisted.

I couldn’t let myself care. Compassion was my weakness. The human part of me that sought only the good in others. Vampires would twist compassion, use it against those I loved.

Burn it all down, Noa.

Voices became a blur. The guards herded us through the crowd and toward the dais. They forced us to stop when we reached Julien. All I had to do was turn my head to see him. Someone had plunged a dagger into his chest, deep enough to pin him to the wall. But he still breathed. His eyes were half open, although I doubted his ability to see when agony twisted his firm mouth.

I let go of Brin’s hand. She stood behind me. Levi had weakened and Laura supported most of his weight. He wasn’t healing fast enough. It was more than a seventeen-year-old wolf should have to endure, the Pied Piper, the wolf who laughed and had the young ones following him. Laura put on a brave front. Brin was defiant, but beneath the posturing, she was unsure of herself. They were doing their best. But I was the one they looked to for control.

I ran frantically through the options available. The best I could do was a fantasy where Grayson stormed in to save the day. Not likely. He didn’t know where we were since his informant was attached gruesomely to the wall. Not a very sanitized way to describe Julien’s situation, but illusion did nothing and I preferred reality. To fight the vampires, I had to see them as they actually were. Gorgeous monsters.

I had to be like them. Be my own horrible monster.

A dimmed light is often overlooked, the vampire had said, and I silently added that a weapon that did not recognize itself was harmless.

I would not be harmless this day.

A male vampire stood separate from the others on the dais. I held his stare, raised my chin and refused to look away. To hell with Fallon’s warning about staring being an invitation. I might actually welcome the hostility, out in the open.

He took one step toward me, one step down from the dais, and made it look like he was lowering himself to a gutter level.

“She doesn’t look like much.”

I wore stained black jeans and a dead girl’s shirt—that wasn’t enough to impress? The short sleeves revealed my mutilated arm and wrist, the crusted, healing runes. Every time I breathed, I scented the muck of damp straw and Levi’s blood that stuck to my clothes.

Earlier that morning, Laura had smoothed and braided my hair. The silver streak was prominent, and I was glad, because then there’d be no doubt about who or what I was.

The vampire who spoke wore black trousers and a flamboyant white silk shirt, open to reveal gold chains draped around his throat. He’d slicked his black hair with enough oil to give the strands a sheen. I worked hard not to let the disgust show on my face.

“Looks can deceive, Ago,” a second vampire said. A male. I turned my attention to him.

Pure evil glittered in his dark eyes, with a glee that wasn’t normal. Tall, ordinary, well-dressed in standard vampire black. My nerves skated with awareness. This was the vampire I should worry about. The reason we were here.

There were several women on the dais, but one caught my attention. She stood distant from the others. Tall. Willowy. Straight black hair fell to her shoulders. Rather than a garish gown, she wore a black silk jumpsuit with full sleeves and flared trousers. A gold belt cinched her waist. Her expression was unreadable, but she kept her gaze studiously away from the wall as she said, “Impulsive as always, Barend. Bringing her here.”

She was staring at the second male—Barend, the vampire I should fear. I shivered when he smiled.

“Where else would I bring her?”

The woman’s lips drew back. “You’ve already infuriated the dread lord with this recklessness.”

“With the sigil destroyed, he has no way of tracking her.”

“He has already obliterated millions in financial accounts.”

Grayson! He knew where I was. Where Laura and Levi were. And he was burning down their financial world first. Sending a message.

“We are missing another sire,” the female continued. “We should assume Grayson Devante has him, since he is sworn to protect the girl.”

“Martel is one of yours,” Barend said, rolling his shoulders in dismissal. “For all we know, you sent him to Devante because you’re as much a traitor as your progeny.”

Ice prickled at my nape. I couldn’t stop myself from looking toward Julien, then back to the woman.

“And you, Barend?” Her anger simmered. “There are rumors, and if creatures are close, it’s because you drew them here with your obsession over failles. Did you think she’d stand by and do nothing? Let you create another equal to her? Amal will destroy us before you get the chance.”

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