Page 22 of Death Comes for Her
“Crim?”
“Yes. Little criminal, that one is.” She snorted. “Steals anything in the kitchen he can get away with.”
“I didn’t know vampires had cats.”
“They’re good for mice.” She set about pouring chilled cream into a dish. Crim shoved himself out of my arms and weaved through the kitchen toward his prize.
“Yes, that’s why we had them on the farm.”
The vampire faced me, eyes scrutinizing my appearance. “Can I get you anything? You look a bit unwell.”
Tightening the belt of my robe, my shifting eyes jumped around the lonely state of the kitchen. If it was just me and Imani without the rest of the staff, I could manage my nerves. She’d become a friendly presence since my arrival and as much as I’d wanted to avoid it, she was something of an ally.
“Tea is fine,” I answered. She jumped for the kettle. “Where is everyone else? I find it odd that it’s night and there are no vampires in the lair.”
“Sanctus Ambrose gave us the day when he consumed the sun. Vampires go about their business during the red hours now. Night can just be night again. Any personal business or time away from serving we handle at night since we require little rest. Lord Dante and Lord Simon don’t deem servant presence necessary at night, since they’re out on their own business at all hours.” She’d finished preparing the tea and set it before me by the end of her explanation.
Sanctus Ambrose. The name alone was enough to curdle my stomach. If I had an opportunity alone with the bastard, I’d find a way to stake him through the heart.
“I’ve never asked about your master’s connection to Sanctus before. I believe they called him Grandmaker?”
She nodded earnestly. Her animated reaction and veneration for the Ambrose clan reminded me she was a vampire, and she respected her lords.
“Yes, they’re direct descendants of Sanctus. He sired their Maker, Craven Ambrose.”
“I assume that’s why they refer to each other in familial terms? They say brother, but there’s obviously no blood relation between them.” I blew the steam from my tea.
Imani frowned. “Yes, they were both turned by Lord Craven. He died during the war, sadly. Shortly before the Everdark Morning.”
I didn’t share her view on the sorrowful nature of Craven’s death. The Ambrose clan was directly responsible for the missing sun, the massacre of the fair folk, and the current state of the world. The entire coven deserved swift destruction for what they’d done.
What parts had Dante and Simon played on that fateful day where I’d lost everything? Were they there in the palace? Had either of them wielded the blade that killed my parents?
The likelihood of the answer made my recent feelings twist like a blade in my gut. Feeling anything at all for them was a betrayal to myself and everyone with gold blood they’d spilled.
I carefully nudged the suddenly unappealing tea away.
Imani tapped her finger on her chin as her thoughts surfaced. “It’s been a while since Sanctus has come to the manor. Though I imagine that’ll change soon.”
A visceral chill ran through my blood. My skin prickled, and dread curled down the length of my spine.
“He’d come here?”
I should have realized. It was the Ambrose manor, and he was the head of their coven after all. Pity the fool I was for feeling secure in his absence.
“Sanctus rules from the capital now, but he spares time to return when occasion arises. Ambrose Manor has held a ball every year for almost a century, and he’s always made the time to return since he started the tradition with Craven.” She idly stirred whatever concoction bubbled in the cauldron. It smelledlike an herbaceous beef stew. Likely my supper when the day advanced.
“When?” the word slipped out as a whisper.
“Not long now. My masters will let the staff know when they’ve settled on the date. Then we’ll begin the preparations. Lord Simon will manage the logistics as usual. Lord Dante handles the security and the werewolves on the property. Years past, I’ve only worked on the sidelines, but I imagine I’ll be responsible for you this time.”
All the blood drained from my face.
“Me?”
Imani glanced over her shoulder with her expression pinched. “Of course. If you’re one of the last fairies as they believe you are, then you’d be a beacon of their status at such a grandiose event. There will be hundreds of vampires from high society in attendance and my masters will have their very own fairy on display. Living gold—no, living sunlight—in the palm of their hands. There’d be no greater symbol of their power.”
The room spun, and my feet swayed beneath me. I braced my hand on my chest, willing my heart to stop beating as if it were a restless, caged bird. Ice shards formed in my blood, and a vicious shudder wracked my body.
