Page 108 of House of Crimson Kisses
Octavia’s lips remain tight until she glances at Dahlia. “Mother of Blood,” she shouts and then pauses, shaking her head. She clears her throat and begins again. “They’re dead, Dahlia. Stop torturing them. We need to get back to mine and regroup.”
Dahlia relents, reluctantly it appears, and we all clamber inside the carriage, me a little slower than the rest and with the help of Amelia. The driver, who had apparently stubbornly refused to let Octavia commandeer his carriage without riding in it, swaps out and resumes his place at the reins.
Laboured breathing and the rustling of clothing envelopes the carriage for the first few moments of the journey. Octavia and I, Dahlia and Lincoln, and Amelia take stock of ourselves and each other without speaking. We’re all covered in blood and dirt. Lincoln and I probe various limbs and injuries, wincing and hissing with pain, but the three vampires have already healed.
Octavia throws me a hesitant glance. We’re both dying to talk about what we saw in the vision-gifts from the Mother of Blood, but thankfully, she thinks better of discussing anything in front of Dahlia. Because even though she helped this evening, I don’t trust her as far as I can throw her. And given the idea to incite fights this evening came from Castle St Clair, there’s nothing to say she wasn’t involved.
Perhaps Dahlia helping was a red herring distraction to knock us off course? Or maybe she genuinely cares about keeping Lincoln alive so they can finish the trials.
“You guys should sleep,” Dahlia says. “It will help your healing.”
“She’s right,” Lincoln says and opens his arm for me to snuggle under. Octavia’s expression twitches but only for a moment before she resigns herself to remembering Lincoln is one of my best friends and she doesn’t need to be jealous. Though I suppose she’s still smarting from the club tonight.
But that’s the last thought I have before sleep sweeps me under, and I drift off against Lincoln’s warm, familiar side.
* * *
We arrived at Castle Beaumont some time ago, but apparently, I’m the last to wake. I stretch and yawn, and immediately regret it, realising I still haven’t had any blood to heal my injuries. I glance out the carriage window; it’s long past dawn and the others are gone.
My stomach is griping at me, like I’m starving, and I am in every way, but not for anything I want to eat. I push the gnawing sensation down and open the door to find the courtyard full of other carriages. The Chief’s is here too. Wendell smiles at me as he rises from the lip of the ornate fountain across from me.
“Ms Beaumont told me to stay here until you rose, and to let you know they’re waiting for you in the living room.”
“Thanks,” I say. “Is the Chief here?”
His eyes flit to her carriage, and he nods. “I believe she was in discussions with Cordelia. They’d taken a private room and were going to reconvene with you all once you woke.”
“Thanks,” I say and head towards the door, my stomach twisting and this time not because of the hunger, but because of what I learnt at the end of the spirit trial. I need to speak to the Chief. I should confront her and find out whether what I saw was true. Because if it is... Fuck, I don’t even know how I am supposed to process that.
“Ahem,” Wendell coughs.
I stop and face him. “Something else?”
“She also gave me this… And insisted I make you drink it.” He holds out a flask.
My eyes fall to it, but the way my mouth waters, I’m certain it’s not alcohol in there.
“Thanks,” I say, even though I’m anything but. Unfortunately, the minute my fingers brush the metal flask, my stomach cramps up. There’s no way I’m getting away without drinking at least some of it, and that’s not just because of the hunger, but the injuries too.
I flick open the top and sip. And then sip again. And again. And again. I can’t stop. The sweet iron nectar hits my throat, and my entire body relaxes. Warmth floods my limbs and I slide into the golden haze of a blood-drunk stupor. By the time the flask is empty, I can breathe easier, my chest doesn’t feel bruised and my back doesn’t sting or itch like it’s healing. I lean against the doorway, steadying myself until I can take a breath deep enough that I ground myself again. My pussy aches to be touched, but there isn’t time for that now.
I head into Octavia’s mansion and quickly get lost. “Fucksake,” I grumble. I thought I’d learnt the hallways by now. But clearly not because I end up near the kitchen instead of the living room. I double back on myself and end up at a dead end full of staff offices.
“Going well, Red. Really well.”
I make my way back towards the courtyard door. If I can start again, I’ll be able to take the correct turn when I halt. Two voices drift out from one of the staff offices, and they do not fit with what I expect to hear down here.
The Chief… and Cordelia.
I have two choices: leave and confront the Chief later, or confront her now, despite the fact she’s in the room with Cordelia.
Instead, I decide on a different course of action. I creep up to the door, which is cracked open, and I listen.
“This is serious,” the Chief says.
“I’m not an idiot. I instigated these trials, or have you forgotten that?”
“Don’t speak to me like that, Cordelia. I’m here working with you for one reason, and don’t you forget it.”
