Page 223

Summer

Alice looks around her realm, tension radiating from her. I look at her, and I embrace the distraction. I slide my hand into hers and squeeze in a silent show of support.

Drãculea is exactly as you would expect. Buildings made of heavy gray stone line cobbled streets. We are standing on a bridge, the faint sound of running water beneath us. Alice doesn’t move, and I follow her intense stare until I see the source of her tension. In front of us, at the top of the hill, the castle sits proudly. The towers and turrets point toward the red sky, the imposing, dark structure looming over the entire realm, keeping watch.

Alice takes another long moment before she tightens her grip on my hand and moves, ascending through the town. She keeps her eyes focused straight ahead, ignoring the vampires that turn their backs on her. She doesn’t react at all, barely seeming to notice their sneers. I follow her lead, keeping my head high and my expression blank, but I stay vigilant. If anyone comes near her, I will go through them. I won’t lose my Alice.

I am doing everything I can to keep from thinking about what I left behind at Avalon, refusing to remember the girl in the pink sweater with the daisy buttons. It is a struggle not to remember those vacant eyes, milky in death when I can feel her sticky blood on my skin and still drying on my clothes.

As we near the castle, I realize the bricks aren’t black as I’d thought when I first laid eyes on it. Instead, they are the dark red of arterial blood. Alice had told me the truth, and she hadn’t exaggerated. There is a moat surrounding the castle, and it is filled with nasty, viscous blood.

Alice pushes the gates open and strides into the castle, still pulling me along. It is noticeably empty save for guards, and they ignore her as she leads me through the corridors. The inside is just as dark as the outside but much more refined and palatial. Gold sconces line the walls, illuminating art and tapestries that are priceless even to my untrained eye. Blood-red rugs span the length of the halls, contrasting with the dark wood floors. The decor is beautiful but in a cold, impersonal, and untouchable way. Even the hushed atmosphere reminds me of a museum.

Alice relaxes a little once we’re inside, but neither of us speaks as we climb eight flights of stairs. She stops in front of a heavy wooden door and pushes it open. I blink, wondering if she had opened a portal to another realm. The room is still dark, but it has life and warmth. There is a large four-poster bed with a fluffy purple comforter and matching sheets. White gossamer curtains hang from the corners of the bed, artfully tied to the posts with violet sashes. I can tell just by looking at the large blue rug in the center of the room that it is luxurious and soft. Cushions and a couple of throws in various shades of blue are scattered over an overstuffed white couch tucked into the far corner. The walls are covered with posters of characters from her favorite shows, but the largest one is the art of a character from a popular shifter romance book.

Alice moves past me and throws her bag onto the bed. “Welcome to the crypt.”

I follow her inside and stop in the center of the room, trying to take it all in. The massive chandelier hanging from the vaulted ceiling looks out of place in this colorful teenage haven. In between the posters, a myriad of weapons are artfully hung on the walls.

Alice nudges me with her shoulder. “Hey. You with me?”

I nod, forcing my face into a smile. I am struggling to maintain the numbness I had wrapped around myself, but I can feel reality lurking around the edges, just waiting for those defenses to drop. Now that we are here and safe, everything is starting to hurt.

Alice stares at me for a minute, and then she smiles brightly. “Want to hurt some people?”

The outlandish suggestion settles on me. I don’t automatically discount it because I do want to hurt people. I want to hurt a specific person. The person who has been killing those fae girls. The person who has been fucking with me. The person who has been threatening me. Watching me. Scaring me. I want to cause pain because I don’t want to feel it anymore. I don’t want to feel anything.

I don’t want to feel powerless anymore.

But this isn’t who I am, right? I’m not vindictive. I’m not evil. Does it make me evil that I want others to feel even a fraction of this pain, even if they deserve it? I don’t know if it does or not. All I know right now is that I want to beat, destroy, and hurt.

“I think I’m just going to take a shower,” I say, remembering that I’m covered in blood that belongs to someone else.Belongedto someone else, I suppose. Alice doesn’t seem phased that I’m covered in dirt and blood, probably because it’s something she’s familiar with. None of the vampireswe’ve encountered reacted to my appearance, actually. This is obviously much more normal here.

Until this moment, adrenaline and the need to act normal had kept my reality at bay, but now I’m unable to pretend that my yoga pants aren’t becoming hard with the drying blood that has become one with the fabric. I can no longer ignore her blood painting my skin like some gory tattoo.

“There’s a huge bathroom through there.” She waves toward a door on the left side of the bed. “Ignore the jewels. I didn’t design it. It’s fucking gaudy and awful, but it’s got good water pressure.”

“Thanks. Can I borrow a towel?”

“There’s a ton in there.”

I nod and hurry into the bathroom, so desperate to get out of these clothes, to cleanse this death from my skin that I barely notice the decor. I strip, leaving my bloodied clothes and shoes in a grisly pile on the immaculate tile floor. Stepping into the shower, I turn the water on and adjust it to the hottest setting. It hammers out of the shower head, and I groan at the feeling of the already scalding water cleansing my skin. I close my eyes, but the second I do, I see her lifeless eyes staring at me. Nope. I flick my eyes open again, focusing on a particularly shiny pearl on the wall as I wash myself. I scrub my body until my skin is practically raw, but I still feel her blood on me, even in places it never touched.

Eventually, I turn the shower off and wrap myself in a fluffy black towel before returning to the bedroom. Alice is standing at the window, looking out at her realm, her shoulders tight.

“You know,” she begins, still looking out. “I think I figured out why people get obsessed with you.” She looks at me over her shoulder, and I stand still, waiting for her to continue. “You make people think that maybe the monsters aren’t all bad. You make us think that maybe we can be better.”

I frown, completely confused. “I do?”

Alice nods. “Thanks for coming home with me,” she says and looks back out the window.

I slip my panties and shorts on under the towel and then pull on one of Connor’s shirts.

Alice chuckles. “Aw, they left a note for me. How nice.”

I walk to the window and look out.LEAVE BITCHis written on the roof of a nearby building.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I snarl, feeling the anger bubbling inside me.