Page 26 of House of Crimson Hearts
I lurch off the wall, but she pushes me back against it.
“Such a vicious little temper you have. And to think I came all the way over here to tell you that you looked dashing, dapper even,” I say.
She rolls her eyes and turns her back on me.
“Dangerous move for a hunter… turning your back on a vampire.”
“You’re not going to hurt me,” she says, refusing to face me.
“And why’s that?”
“Because you like playing with me, Octavia. This is just a game to you. All of it. The club. My sister. Every fucking spat we’ve had the last two weeks. It means nothing to you.” This time Red does turn around but only to point a finger at me.
“You and your fucking family with all your power and your castles. You’re surrounded by everyone and everything. Brothers, sisters. A Mother. You have land and titles, butlers and blood. Whatever you want is at your fingertips. And still it’s not enough for you. You had to take the one thing I had left. You stole my sister and I’ll never forgive you for that…”
“You think you’re so alone… That I have ev?—”
But I’m cut off by the sound of Cordelia’s voice clearing her throat over the microphone.
How can she think I have everyone? She knows nothing. I have Xavier and maybe Amelia now. But I’m feared by most everyone in this city, hated by the rest. She thinks she’s suffering, try a thousand years of isolation, of being told you’re a freak, unlovable all because you were born different. A hardness settles in my gut. This isn’t the end of the conversation.
“Good evening nobles, hunters, humans… If I may have your attention, please,” Cordelia says and someone, Dahlia probably—kiss-ass—clinks a fork against a glass until the room grows quiet.
“I’ve asked you all here this evening as I fear we are in grave danger as a city. Humbly, as a servant of this city, I ask for your help. But first. I need to tell you a story…”
Chapter8
CORDELIA
I’m doing the right thing, I know I am. I shift on stage. What choice do I have? This is the only way to stop everything from unravelling.
I take a deep breath, brush down my cream ballgown and look out at the crowd. It’s show time.
“I’ve always been fond of antiquities. When you’re as old as I am, memories fade, their edges fraying and blurring. It becomes difficult to hold on to them when their essence is slippery. Which is why I like antiques. You can attach a memory to the object, and it holds steadier, like an anchor.
“I was searching for antiques in the Montague territory thirty years ago. Many of you will remember that the city used to be fully accessible. There was no magical boundary preventing us from accessing the heart of the territory.”
There’s a murmur of agreement from the older hunters and most of the vampires. When it dies down, I continue.
“But what many of you won’t know, is that I was there the night the boundary was created.”
There’s an audible gasp in the room. I close my eyes, letting the memories flood over me and begin to tell them my story.
Thirty Years Ago
Night washes over me, bathing my skin in pale beams only the moon and stars can. The Montague territory is peaceful this evening. The large lake in the heart of the territory is calm save for a few bubbles from the koi beneath the surface. I traipse through the maze-like streets towards the ancient castle at the heart.
I’m here because Isabella’s heirs have a grimoire I want. Before she was turned, Isabella, the witch who cursed me, had dhampir apprentices, and this grimoire in particular is rumoured to have belonged to one of them. I’m not holding out hope that it will contain the cure to her curse. But anything could be a clue, so I’ll treat it as such until I prove otherwise.
Unfortunately, as I step onto the grounds of the castle, I’m halted. I stretch my fingers out, testing and prodding the air, uncertain as to why I can’t move forward. But there’s no perimeter, no fizz of weak magic in the air. I’m just stopped and no matter how hard I try and push forward, I cannot.
Isabella’s heirs stumble out of the castle and onto the driveway. All of them bearing the same startled expression I fear I’m wearing.
“What’s going on?” I shout across the courtyard.
But my words are swallowed as if I never produced them. More of her heirs appear on the porch now. A cluster of ten or so. All of them wearing deep frowns.
The man at the front waves. His mouth moves but I can’t hear anything. I wave back and he turns to those behind him, but they’re all nonplussed.
