Page 96 of Xantera
Cognitive: slow.
Mood: melancholy.
Muscular: stiff.
Behavioral: reckless.
But what I thought I knew no longer applies in this situation.
In all of my schooling, I’ve never learned about the effects of vampire venom or humans turning into stone. I’ve been living in the dark, but in reality, that is what’s happening to me.
And now, it’s officially over. No key. No hope. No change.
I’m back to the beginning, except this time I have the knowledge, the truth that’s been concealed from me my entire life.
My laugh echoes around my bedroom, high-pitched, somewhat scary.
The necklace is nestled back in between my legs, but unfortunately, Lucan’s voice doesn’t rumble out of it to satisfy me the way I want.
What does one do when there’s nothing left to do?
Swiveling my head around this disgustingly ornate bedroom, my eyes land on the rose-engraved door that leads out to the hallway
I march straight out of it without even bothering to close it behind me.
My legs lead me randomly through the hallways. I stare out windows. I sweep up and down staircases. Without a destination, I wander aimlessly, but this is my life now.
No Lucan, who must be regretting what transpired between us in the bathtub. Who is removing himself from this helpless situation.
No mother, who must be a stone by now. Dead.
No partner. No friends.
No telling how many minutes—or hours—later, I finally come across a random servant dusting the banisters.
She glances up at my footsteps as I approach her, space closing between us, uneasiness swelling.
As soon as I reach her, the words spew from my mouth without forethought. “Hello.” I smile, though my teeth feel like chips of ice. “Could you please show me where the billiard room is?”
She nods, her body visibly loosening.
I traipse after her. Poker could be fun, and Tristan seems fun enough—unburdened and likely purposely oblivious to what’s going on around him.
I can be like that.
After weaving through the hallways for a few minutes, the servant brings me to a pair of pretty double doors and gestures to them before turning on a heel and scurrying away.
“Thank you,” I call after her, throwing the heavy doors open with a clunk.
While it’s nothing as grand as the white drawing room, I’d say the musty yellowness of the wallpaper is still several, several steps above a housing complex.
Five heads snap toward me, but only one face changes from confusion to excitement.
“You finally came!” Tristan exclaims, smile wide enough to crinkle his eyes.
I walk around the entryway table, examining the art on the walls that depict faces I don’t recognize.
When I reach them sprawled over the leather sofas, I shrug. “Betting seemed like a good time, suddenly.”
