Page 25

But then he wondered if the room was small. Like a closet or a coffin small. His hands stretched out to his sides. All they found was more sheets. Definitely, crisp, cool, cotton sheets overtop a very comfy mattress. He turned his head slightly to the right. His nose hit a soft pillow that had a faint sandalwood scent. There was a light duvet over him. It was airy and yet very warm. He was comfortable except for his head.

I’m in bed, he realized. And then he realized what that meant, I’m in the Ever Dark!

His eyelids shot open and, thankfully, the only light came from wainscotting at the top of the wall where the walls met the ceiling. Soft, silvery light was emitted from there. Most of the light was blocked by the heavy hangings that surrounded the bed. It was a four-poster, something that Grayson had only ever seen in movies that had castles. So it fit the Ever Dark. Wasn’t every city in the Ever Dark supposed to be one of the Immortal’s castles in a way?

He heard a sound--the scratch and hiss of a match being lit--and his gaze shot towards the fireplace at the end of the bed. A man was kneeling there, lighting kindling. It caught quickly and immediately cast a golden glow on the person’s features.

He was in his mid-thirties--though he was likely a Vampire so how he looked didn’t mean anything about how old he really was--and wearing a well tailored three-piece suit in gray and blue. He had dark blond hair that brushed the top of his collar.

“Hello, Grayson,” his voice was tinged with an English accent.

Grayson jerked and his head thrummed with pain. He brought both hands up to his head and opened his mouth in a silent scream even as he curled into a fetal position.

“Oh, dear, I didn’t mean to startle you, but I thought since you’d seen me that it would be all right to speak. My fault. Should have checked,” the man continued.

Through his fingers, Grayson saw the man–Vampire–gracefully rise from the fireplace and approach the bed. Grayson couldn’t even move or talk to tell him to keep back! He doubted it would have worked anyways. He noticed that Vampires did what they wanted. The man then touched him and he didn’t like it!

“Not Ryder!” Grayson managed to shout, which just had his head vibrating like a bell with agony.

“Not Ryder? Hmmm, so he isn’t the only one to feel a connection,” the man murmured, undeterred by his words as he put fingers on Grayson’s temples.

“No! No!” Grayson cried.

He was trying to say that he had no connection to Ryder and for this man not to touch him. But everything came out garbled and not as he wanted. The pain was just unbelievable! Ice picks stabbing his brain. Acid sizzling his gray matter. Throbbing pain that radiated throughout his body.

And then… it was gone.

The man took his fingers away from Grayson’s temples and drew a chair over to the side of the bed. Grayson didn’t move for long moments as he tried to ascertain if the pain was really gone. After all, how could it be there--ever present and agonizing--and then vanish?

“It’s not actually gone. I’ve just told your mind not to concentrate on it. The command will fade when the pain has gone away,” the man said.

“You--you read my mind?” Grayson brought his hands down on his face and looked at the Vampire.

The Vampire sat easily with his legs deftly crossed one over the other. His long fingered hands were loosely held in his lap. The word to describe his affect was… languid. He was completely at ease, so at ease that he was arguably melting in his chair.

“Who--”

“Am I? Lord Balthazar Ravenscroft or the Immortal Eyros, if you prefer. I answer to both.” The Vampire--or Immortal--bowed without leaving his chair.

“Eyros… you’re the headmaster of the academy. The Vampire wannabe school, right?” Grayson asked as he took in the well-dressed figure who smiled at him with absolutely no fear, disgust or concern.

“Vampire wannabe school? Oooh, I’m going to use that to annoy Caemorn. He is deadly serious about this school and the students,” Balthazar said with a pleasant, low laugh.

His silver eyes glowed softly in the low light. They were… mesmerizing. Not in the way that Ryder’s were, but they invited him to relax and open up and tell Balthazar everything…

“What the Hell?!” Grayson rocketed up in the bed and winced in expectation of pain, but it did not come.

Balthazar merely chuckled again. “You felt that, did you? Interesting! One of so many interesting things about you.” He put a hand to his chest and explained unnecessarily, “I read minds. I’m reading your mind.”

“I don’t want you to!” Grayson grimaced because he heard the child’s wail in his voice. He doubted what he wanted mattered.

“I’m afraid not. Not in this case in any event,” Balthazar said, reading his mind again. He brought his hands together and leaned forward on his elbows. “As unpleasant as the thought of me poking around in your head is, isn’t this better than having to tell me everything?”

Grayson opened and shut his mouth. Being questioned was what he’d always feared. Why he’d fled before the red and blue lights flared outside his home’s windows. Why he’d never let his mother even open her mouth to ask the obvious question: How did you kill your stepfather, Grayson? How could a boy do that?

“I guess there’s some benefits,” Grayson finally said, thrusting those thoughts out of the front of his mind.

“Yes.” Balthazar nodded, clearly knowing this was true regardless of what Grayson said out loud. “And I’ve only looked at tonight’s events. No further back. Though I really wanted to.”