Page 45 of The Scarlet Veil

He didn’t just kill his victims. Heconsumedthem, and those bottles of blood in the market—he consumes them too. I shake my head, unable to catch my breath. My lungs threaten to collapse. Evangeline couldn’t have understood the depravity of her story, or she never would’ve invited such creatures into our nursery, into our very childhood. I’ve heard of Dames Rouges imbibing bloodon occasion, of course—for certain potions or spells—but never like this. Never assustenance.

With an air of black satisfaction, Michal returns to his desk, rights his chair, and sits down. Arielle’s breathing deepens in sleep. “I believe it is my turn,” he says over his shoulder. “Are you able to summon the ghosts again?”

“I—I—I didn’t summon—”

Faster than I can follow, he rises again, flowing to a liquid halt just in front of me. Though he doesn’t touch me, the effect remains the same: I’m trapped here, cornered, like a lutin in a cage. “You’re lying again,” he says.

“I am n-notlying.” With the last of my bravado, I move to push through him, but it would be easier to move a mountain, theocean, than the vampire in front of me. He no longer possesses his strange lack of scent. No—he now smells coppery and metallic, like salt, like Arielle’s blood. Bile rises in my throat, and I push him harder. “I didn’t summonanything, but if I did, I w-wouldn’t do it again. Not foryou.”

And it’s true.

Through the ringing in my ears, awareness begins to flicker. Resolve.

At last, I understandwhyI’m still alive: as bait for Coco, yes, but also for the ghosts. After this morning, he thinks I somehow raised them, and he desperately wants a repeat performance for some nefarious purpose.

Everyone has a groin somewhere, Célie.

Squeezing past him, I dive behind his desk with breathless triumph. “Why are you after Coco? What do youwantwith her?”

He turns to face me slowly, and despite his impassive facade,something cruel and vicious lingers in the hard planes of his face. It promises retribution as calmly as one discusses the weather. “The blood witches have taken something from me, Célie Tremblay—something precious—and I plan to return the favor in kind.” A pause. “Their princesse will do nicely.”

I stare at him in growing disbelief. He would kill an innocent woman because a blood witch stole one of histrinkets? On the wings of that thought, however, comes another, equally chilling.He would kill many more than one.Shaking my head in disgust, I say quietly, “You’re a thiefanda filthy hypocrite. Where is my cross?”

“How interesting. One would think you’d ask for your engagement ring.” I inhale sharply, but he merely flicks a hand toward the door. “Get out of my sight. Our game is finished.” Then— “Remain in your room until I summon you. Do not attempt to leave this castle.”

Torn between a sob and a snarl, I clench my hands into fists. “Why keep me here at all? Why not finish this business in Cesarine? Unless—”

Christo’s bloody tongue flares in my mind’s eye.

How can the shepherd protect his flock if he refuses to walk among them?

Perhaps he cannot protect them at all.

“Unless you can’t leave,” I finish shrewdly, “because you fear the consequences if you do.”

“I do not need to leave. Cosette Monvoisin will come to me.” He lifts a piece of parchment from his desk, revealing a letter written in emerald ink.Masqueradesprawls across the top in ornate calligraphy. “Indeed, I’ve sent an invitation toallyour little friends, welcoming them to Requiem for a ball on All Hallows’ Eve. By that time, I will have unearthed all of your secrets, CélieTremblay, and will have no further use of you.”

All Hallows’ Eve.

I quickly tally the days, my heart dropping in realization.Just over a fortnight. I have a merenineteen daysto undo all of this, to save my friends and myself from a brutal and bloody death. He says nothing as I struggle to compose myself, those black eyes cold and indifferent once more. And for the first time since setting foot in Requiem, I begin to understand the sickness here.

Hatred tastes like poison, like the charred wick of a candle the second before it ignites—and it always ignites. “I will find a way to stop you,” I promise him, my mind already whirling forward. In nineteen days, I must learn how to kill the undead—totrulykill them, this time. “You will not have my friends.”

Chapter Fifteen

The Twins Petrov

The shelves in my room span to the ceiling, crammed with ancient books and broken trinkets. And dust. Layers andlayersof dust. I lift the candelabra from the hall as I examine each tome and try not to sneeze. Though hunger wracks my stomach, I ignore it as best I can. Clearly, sustenance is an indulgence on Requiem—unless one happens to drinkblood—and I would rather starve than ask Michal for anything. Brushing the grime from the spines on a lower shelf, I crouch to read the titles there:The Resurrectionist;Practical Necromancy: A Guide to the Dark Art; andHow to Commune with the Dead.

I withdraw my hand abruptly.

Necromancy.

Shuddering, I wipe my palm on my bodice and hurry down the shelf, plucking out another book at random—Le Voile Écarlate.With an impatient sigh, I jam it back beneath the bust of an angry, long-forgotten god. This room housesthousandsof books, yet I only need one—onebook with detailed instructions on how to kill a vampire. It shouldn’t be too terribly much to ask.

Like finding a needle in a haystack.

My stomach gurgles again, but another boom of thunder swallows the sound, rattling a chipped tea set overhead. I yank another book from the shelf. Perhaps this is Michal’s true plan—to killme slowly, painfully, over the next two weeks. At the thought of Arielle and her ravaged throat, her breathlessmoans, I don’t necessarily object to the idea. Starvation is infinitely preferable tothat.