Page 43 of Blood Ties (City of Blood #1)

Elina

When I awake this time, I catch a glimpse of the night sky outside the window. A window? I fling myself from the bed I’m in and run to it.

Discovering that it is locked tight, I peer out, hoping to at least orient myself so I know where I am.

Looking out the window, I recognize St. Phillip Street.

The old Hotel Royal. I’m only a block away from The Velvet Tomb.

Right under the nose of the Blood Ravens, we are only three or so blocks away from the cathedral.

Taking in the room I’m in, I find I have much more comfortable accommodations than I did before.

There is a small table with a chair in the corner.

A fireplace, though there is no fire. A large canopy bed laid with soft, pale-pink linens and a mountain of pillows.

I am in an old New Orleans-style mansion, the sort that is appropriate for the Garden District.

Grabbing a chair from beside the small table, I swing it as hard as I can into the glass of the window. The window rattles in its frame but does not shatter—it does not even crack. Raising a brow, I stare at it contemplatively. What kind of magical window…?

Behind one of the three doors, I find an empty closet. The next door does not open when I twist the knob and pull. Behind the third door is an ensuite bathroom, containing a large walk-in shower, an antique freestanding clawfoot tub, and a vanity laid with various products.

I also find a duffel bag in the bathroom containing clothing. None of it belongs to me but all of it is my size. Finding a pair of black leggings and a pullover sweatshirt, I decide to take a shower and get out of the clothes I have been wearing for—I don’t know how long honestly. Too long.

I allow myself a few moments of weakness in the shower where I cry, pity for my situation saturating me as surely as the water does. After that though, I refuse to give into the temptation to wallow in a pit of self doubt, not wanting my captors to win by letting my own fear defeat me.

Once I am clean and wearing the clothes supplied for me, I sit at the small table and wait. Surely something is going to happen, they brought me from the dark stone room for a reason, now I need to find out why.

It doesn’t take long before the locked door clicks open and a man I recognize from the bar walks in, with a woman walking behind him.

“Crepulsculien, good evening.” He addresses me by the name he has called me multiple times in the bar. It sounds almost like twilight but not quite. I resist the urge to ask him about the nickname.

“Good evening,” is my only answer. I’ve seen enough movies, and read enough books, to know there is no point in asking what I am doing here or who he is. He is going to tell me what he wants to tell me in due time, without me prompting.

I watch him wearily from the table I am sitting at, waiting.

He also appears to be waiting. After a few more moments the woman says, “Hi Elina, my name is Genevieve and this is Claudel. I believe you may have met him before, in the Velvet Tomb?” Looking around Claudel, I see that she is quite diminutive—shorter than me by a few inches—has a short blond bob haircut, and is wearing a designer-looking pant suit of deepest red.

She is stunning, standing there, and very much a vampire based on her preternatural stillness and otherworldly beauty.

“Um, hi,” I start, unsure of the kindness in her tone considering where the last few days have been spent. “What day is it?” I ask, hoping her kindness extends to a little bit of information.

“It’s Sunday night,” Claudel answers my query. I was taken on Friday afternoon so just over two days ago. Bash, Sarah, and Ethan must be going out of their minds looking for me. Where would they even start? “Come, you are to eat and be presented.”

“Presented? To whom?”

“Come,” he says as he spins on his heel and leaves the room, Genevieve beckoning me to follow.

Walking down the hall, I study the lush furnishings and antique rugs covering the floors. The walls have no exterior windows, so I have no idea where I am in the house. I pass door after door in the hallway, nothing setting one apart from the last.

“It’s a little confusing at first but you’ll catch on quickly which rooms to steer clear of.” Genevieve tells me as I walk. Why would I need to know which doors are safe or not?

We make our way down a large, dark wood carved staircase and I can make out the front door from here.

I am under no illusions that I could escape before Claudel or Genevieve would catch me.

There is a beautiful floral arrangement on the hall table.

Dark wood floors and paneling topped with baroque style wallpaper.

The curtains on this floor are open to reveal the night outside.

My soul cries knowing the people I love are out there looking for me, they have to be, and I am over here in this mansion, walking around like there’s nothing wrong with this situation.

The house is richly furnished and appointed, but feels oddly juxtaposed to the fact that I am a hostage here.

“Through here.” Genevieve gestures to a set of large, closed doors as Claudel pushes them open to reveal a dining room.

The table is laden with various foods. It makes my eyes prickle with tears thinking back to when Bash presented me with a similarly large spread of food on our second date.

I am the only person in the room besides my vampire escorts.

“Sit wherever you want, and eat. When you’re done, we will go meet with him. ”

“With who?” I ask, but by the time I glance around, I realize I am alone.

I go straight to the windows that line one wall of the room, and learn they face out to a courtyard completely surrounded on all sides by the rest of the house.

The courtyard has people walking all around—10 or 15 people coming and going.

Vampires coming and going. I could try and get out but, like the front door, I know I won’t get far.

Defeated, I walk back over to the table and sit at the head, grabbing the closest food to me and bringing it to my mouth.

I don’t even taste the food in front of me, I eat simply to fuel my body for whatever horror awaits me. I fill up on rice and beans, roasted chicken, and peas. I wash it down with fresh water from the jug on the table. Sitting back, full of food and nerves, I wait.

My survival depends on keeping myself calm. I might die anyway, but it won’t be because I was reckless and made a stupid decision. The best thing I can do is to take in whatever information is given to me and try to glean what it might imply.

The doors are opened a while later and Claudel appears again, without Genevieve this time. “Come now.” I stand and follow him from the room, my hands sweating and my heart beating a rough rhythm in my chest.

I follow behind him, my head held high. I may be quiet and compliant, but I refuse to look afraid or weak.

I know every vampire in this place can hear my erratic heart but I will not let it affect the way I show myself to them.

We make a left turn in the corridor after a bit of a walk and I, now, know we are walking around the courtyard perimeter.

We approach a pair of almost identical wooden double-doors as the dining room, and stop.

Claudel turns to me. “Once we enter, you are the least important thing in the room, act accordingly. You will exhibit the appropriate respect to Prince Nicolas.” Prince Nicolas?

I’ve never heard that name before. Who are these vampires and why am I here?

Claudel has a French accent—could this be the Shadow King’s court? Or what remains of it?

We step into the room before I can ask any questions.

“Sir, may I present, Elina Girard, as requested,” Claudel introduces me, bending deeply at the waist in reverence to the man sitting on the raised dais in a large wooden chair, his throne, I presume.

He has pale hair, pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, and hazel eyes that are currently boring into me.

He appears relaxed on this throne, in a black suit, with his jacket hanging open over a crisp, white shirt.

I incline my head slightly, refusing to bow. He is not my prince. Principe Sebastien Malvani is the only prince I recognize, and only because I’m madly in love with him, his family has not earned my respect.

“Elina, good evening. It is so lovely to finally meet you. I have been watching you, of course, but seeing you in my home? Tout est parfait!” I do not respond.

I don’t believe he even requires a response.

I watch him carefully, looking for anything to tell me who he is or why he has brought me here.

“You are much more subdued than I expected. Having watched you for some time, as well as reports from Claudel and others, I expected a much more exuberant response to being a guest in my home.”

“A guest? I was not invited, nor was I permitted to decline. You might call me a guest but we both know I am a prisoner.” I inject as much venom into my tone as I can. Claudel hisses beside me before grabbing the back of my neck and pushing me to my knees on the floor.

“Sir, the disrespect from the crepuscule whore exceeds reasonable bounds. Should I remove her?” Claudel asks his prince.

I stare directly into the eyes of the monster pretending to be a man sitting in front of me. He stares back, a slow feline smile spreading across his face, his fangs on full display. He waves his hand at Claudel who immediately releases me.

“No, Claudel. I would like to hear what she has to say to me. We are to be bound after all.”

I feel my mouth drop open in shock. I twist my face into a sneer. “Over my dead fucking body will I bind myself to you.”

“You’ll come around.” With those ominously final words, he throws me a wink and Claudel drags me to my feet. “Take her to her room. Maybe by tomorrow tonight she will be more willing to discuss our future.”

Tomorrow night? How long does he intend to keep me here? I allow Claudel to pull me down the hallway and up the stairs. Pushing my bedroom door open, he shoves me in, causing me to fall to my knees. Slamming the door behind me, I hear him turn his key in the lock.

I lie on the floor and cry until my body gives out and I fall asleep.