Author: Kalayna Price

A knock sounded on the door. I didn’t move.

“We are late.” Nathanial’s voice held no inflection. No emotion.

I leaned my head against the hard tiled wall. I can’t do this.

“I’m not going,” I whispered, knowing he would hear.

No response came from the other side of the door.

I sighed. “Go without me. They don’t need me.”

A soft bump sounded, as if Nathanial had leaned his head against the door. “Kita.”

Just my name. Nothing else.

I squeezed my eyes closed. I wanted to go to him. I wanted my name to never sound so lost on his lips. But I couldn’t trust it. I couldn’t trust myself to be me.

Tatius had used vamp tricks on me. Nothing I felt around him was real. But with Nathanial, I thought…

I was wrong. Nothing since I became a vampire made sense. My instincts were off, and now my very emotions were circumspect. A tear hit the tile beside my hand. I stared at the red drop, feeling another trail down my cheek in the same path.

“I’ll meet you downstairs.” My voice sounded broken, like it was trying to squeeze out of a too-tight throat. Wiping my cheeks with the back of my hand, I sat up straighter. I drew in a deep breath. Held it. “Just give me a couple minutes alone. Please. I’ll meet you downstairs. I promise.”

Nathanial didn’t answer. I waited, slumping against the wall, hugging my knees.

Several heartbeats passed. Then the French doors closed, and I released the breath I’d been holding. It sagged out, shaky, and I did it again. And again.

Once my breathing steadied, I pushed off the floor and examined myself in the mirror. My hair had survived crawling around on the floor, only a couple strands escaping the trap of pins. The dressed had not done as well. Creases and wrinkles marred the skirt, and the bodice was twisted, uncomfortable. I shook the skirt, trying to dislodge the wrinkles as well as I could, but there wasn’t much to be done.

Sighing in defeat, I swept out of the bathroom. The bedroom was, thankfully, empty. I considered crawling back into bed. Starting the night over.

I couldn’t.

I was expected downstairs. I had to face the Collector, and Tatius’s emissaries, and I had to face Nathanial.

Chapter Twenty-Four

“Why aren’t you in the parlor already?” a chime-like voice demanded as I trudged down the stairs.

I looked up. Elizabeth stood just inside the main door. Is she waiting on me?

“I, uh…” I really didn’t have a good answer, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her what had happened upstairs.

Jomar had seen enough that the Collector probably already knew more than I was comfortable with.

Elizabeth tapped one dainty foot on the marble floor.

“Well, hurry up. You’ve been missed.”

I doubt that. But I did take the stairs a little faster. She led me to the double doors of the parlor and pushed a small button. Ronco opened the door a crack.

“I found her dawdling in the stairwell,” she said in a whisper loud enough every vampire in the room could hear.

Great. I glared at her back as Ronco admitted us. Elizabeth sauntered to the Traveler’s side, but I loitered in the doorway.

Nathanial sat alone on a couch in the center of the room. The Collector sat across from him, her back straight, her posture perfect without looking tense. The Traveler and the twins sat on a couch beside her chair. The third couch was taken by a small figure with dark dreadlocks, who had her back to me.

Anaya and Clive stood behind her. Nuri? Nathanial had said an ambassador arrived, but Nuri appeared to be Tatius’s right-hand vampire. Him sending her had to be a good sign of his intentions. Or a really bad sign.

Nathanial inclined his head toward me, indicating the spot beside him on the couch.

“Do sit down so we can continue,” the Collector said, sparing me a moment of her cold glare, though she didn’t wait for me to comply before resuming the conversation about political obligations she must have been having before I entered.

I sat on the furthest cushion I could and still be on the same couch as Nathanial. Then I squirmed. The skin along my back was tight, uncomfortable. I ignored it. Avin was calling me. I was sure of it. Not that the illogical need to move was easy to ignore. I forced myself to focus on Nuri.

She sprawled on the couch, looking as laid back and unconcerned as Tatius himself might have if he were in the room. I frowned. I’d met Nuri only a few times, but she never sprawled. I studied her as casually as I could. A small red, hand-shaped birthmark decorated her golden cheek.

Samantha?

I looked down, afraid my expression would betray me.

What the hell is going on? I chanced a glance at Nathanial.

Surely he’s noticed?

“The Puppet Master appreciates the hospitality you’ve shown his council member, Collector, but it is time for—”

Samantha-in-Nuri’s-face made it no further as the parlor doors burst open.

Aphrodite, her blond hair foaming around her like a mantle, stormed into the center of the room. Three of her council members and half dozen of her enforcers followed.

The enforcers fanned out around the room. Three moved behind my couch, and I cringed, twisting to keep them in view.

“Where is the rest of him?” Aphrodite demanded, her song-like voice shrill as she looked first at the Collector and then Nathanial.

I jumped to my feet, responding to the waves of tension filling the air. I wasn’t the only one. In fact, only the Collector kept her chair. She looked at the fuming city master, her face cold, impassive.

“Calm yourself,” she commanded, her voice blanketing the rising tempers in the room. “Now, where is the rest of whom?”

Aphrodite’s blue eyes flared. “Don’t think me a fool, Collector. My memory is not so short. It was only a century ago you brought me here and supported my conquest of this city, and merely a decade ago you supported the ousting of the old master of New Brennan. You may have found a new pet in the Hermit, but I will not be cowed. I have the power to back up my claim to this city.”

She thought the Collector was setting Nathanial up to be Master of Demur? I glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. He shook his head, his face carefully empty. No. He didn’t know anything about what was going on.

The Collector rose to her feet. “I’m sure I have no idea of what you are speaking. Perhaps we should have this conversation somewhere more pri—”

“No. We’re having it here.” Aphrodite turned and a vampire carried a silver platter into the room.

In the center of the platter was the head of the General.

His blond hair, dark with dried blood, spilled over the sides of the tray, and as the vampire carried the platter closer, the scent of old blood reached my nose. Old blood soured with snake venom.

“The servants discovered this,” Aphrodite pointed at the platter, “in the kitchen. I want Gordon’s body. And I want it now.”

Her gaze speared the Collector, who stared at the platter and its grisly contents.

Another decapitated head. And more venom.

“What game is this?” the Collector whispered so quietly I wasn’t sure she was aware she’d said it aloud. Then her eyes narrowed. She turned, her gaze landing on Samantha-Nuri.

“Your arrival was perhaps too convenient. Your diplomatic immunity just expired.” She lifted her hand. “Elizabeth, I think it is time to truth-seek the Truthseeker.”

A cruel smile cut across the china doll’s face as she stepped forward. Samantha’s eyes flew wide. They sought out Nathanial, her expression begging help.

He looked away.

“Wait,” I said.

The Collector turned, her gaze slamming into me, her eyes vamp-black. Darkness filled my vision.

“Silence,” a voice commanded. I had no choice but obey.

Then the darkness retreated as the Collector’s attention moved back to Samantha.

“Do you have something to hide, Truthseeker?” One of the twins asked, his arms crossed over his chest, his brother mirroring the position. “If you’ve nothing to hide, you’ve nothing to fear.”

Samantha glanced at Anaya and Clive. Anaya smiled, but it wasn’t a happy look. She grabbed her companion’s hand and they vanished.

“Take the Truthseeker,” Aphrodite yelled. Her enforcers surged forward.

Samantha never stood a chance. Nathanial never moved.

They held Samantha as Elizabeth grabbed her wrist. Dainty fangs tore into her skin. Samantha ceased struggling.

“She’s a pretender,” Elizabeth proclaimed, pulling back. “A chameleon. The Mad Hag masked her psyche and powers.”

“The Puppet Master’s Chameleon?” the Collector repeated.

“And the bodies? What does she know of them?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “I see nothing.”

A frown stretched across the Collector’s face. “Fine. Lock her away.” She turned back to Nathanial. “The Puppet Master sent three disposable soldiers to retrieve two psychic vampires, one a member of his own council. Do you think he is a fool, or does he simply not value you, Hermit?”

It was a dig at Nathanial as well as Tatius.

“Think on my words, Hermit. And my offer.” She turned away and lifted a hand toward the Traveler. “Aaric, attend me.”

The giant moved to her side and offered his arm. She shook her head. Her steps were stiff, her back straight, but as she walked toward the door, there was something slightly off balance to her movements. Something her commanding words and icy eyes didn’t reveal, but it was there, in the way she moved.

“We are not done, Collector,” Aphrodite said, her lithe arms crossing her chest.

“We are,” the Collector said without looking at her.

The offhanded dismissal made color sprout in Aphrodite’s pale cheeks. “My second’s body is still missing. If the Puppet Master’s Chameleon knows nothing of it, it is unlikely he was involved. The guilt falls to your retinue or your new pet. I demand his body and recompense.”