Page 69 of To Vanquish Darkness

The vampire howled in agony. “I will do this every day, slowly, for the rest of your life if I don’t return and find this woman cared for. Do you understand?”

Ramon fought to get up, but his right hand slipped on the stone, already slick with his blood. Theo held the knife to his thumb, and Ramon gasped.

“I understand! I understand.”

Theo cut it off anyway. The man howled as Theo dropped his arm and wiped the blade on Ramon’s shoulder before putting it back in his boot.

He didn’t say another word as he walked back toward Amalie. He didn’t ask before wrapping his arm around her waist and lifting her into his arms.

She buried her face against his chest as he carried her back to her room, breathing him in. He walked quickly, but he didn’t run, and by the time they stood in front of her door, his scent had warmed and the shadows had almost fully receded.

He set her down, but her arms lingered around his neck. He reached around her and opened her door. "Clean up. I'll be back."

She nodded, swallowing hard. She’d forgotten all about the kitchen, about their argument as they’d ascended the stairs.

“Theo? Are you ready?” Etienne appeared at the end of the hall, seemingly oblivious to what had just occurred.

Amalie pulled her arms off of him. She didn’t argue as she slipped into her room and closed the door.

29

1836 NORTHERN NORMANDY, FRANCE

Amalie’s legs felt barely capable of holding her up. A cold sweat broke out on her skin as she dropped onto the bed.

It shouldn’t have been shocking. None of it. What she’d seen in Ramon had been the vampires of legend. The cruelty. The evil.

But then there had been Theo.

Breathe. Amalie curled over her knees. She’d been so sure he was the enemy. But now? He’d defended a human. He’d harmed his own kind to keep Penelope safe.

She felt the last of her resolve crumbling, and the walls she’d built around the stories Theo told her turned to dust.

She believed him. All of it. And that was almost more terrifying than holding onto hope that there was an alternative explanation.

Amalie forced herself off the mattress and walked to the washroom.

Theo hadn’t killed her mother.

Theo protected guardians.

Theo wanted the sword.

Theo wanted to die.

That last truth slapped against her consciousness. Her fingers shook as she knelt to inspect the coals that were stillwarm beneath the tub. Even though Henriette had the day off, she’d already filled the tub, and the water was tepid.

Amalie grabbed a handful of kindling, her fingers still trembling, and forced them to hold steady as she fed the fire. She used the poker to stir the coals until embers glowed red, then dropped to her knees and blew, the coals sparking, then catching, flames curling around the logs and sending light flickering across the stone and copper.

She stripped off her clothes, inspecting the dark stains where Penelope’s blood had soaked into the cloth, then noticed the fresh clothing already sitting on the counter for her.

Amalie wanted to weep. Here she’d been complaining that she was stuck in her room, enjoying hot baths and trays of food whilst studying her books, and Penelope?—

She pressed the heels of her hands over her eyes. Did Penelope have it worse or had it been worse for the others? Marie and Sarah? Had death come quickly, or had Etienne and Paul toyed with them like Ramon?

When the water was warm, Amalie dropped into the tub. She scrubbed Penelope’s blood from her skin, then dunked her head under the water. She held her breath until her lungs screamed, until her body forced her back to the surface, gasping for air.

She held onto the edges of the tub, staring at the pink-tinged water. When she couldn’t bear it any longer, she stepped out and grabbed the towel, her skin prickling as she dried herself off.

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