Page 14 of The Vampire Court

Suddenly, all the moisture in my mouth is gone. Should he be back by now?

“No.”

He bobs his head once and turns. I reach out and grab his arm, stopping him. I don’t think better of it until his gaze locks onto my hand and doesn’t move. Slowly, I let go.

“Could something have happened to him?”

Lawrence heaves a sigh. “That depends.”

I wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t.

“On what?” I prompt. The question comes out harsher than intended.

“On when he left,” he pauses, mulling over his next words. “And if… Elizabeth required an audience with him.”

I swallow the lump forming in my throat. “He left to feed about an hour ago.”

He nods. “Then you have nothing to worry about yet.”

Before I can question him further, he is down the hall in a blink, heading toward the stairs.

The mention of the vampire queen twists my insides into knots. I hate the idea of Elizabeth requiring anything of Alaric, mostly because I know she wants him, and that alone is enough to make me jealous. It’s an ugly feeling. She is a powerful vampire, like he is, and I am only a human—a temporary fixture in his life.

One day I will die, and he will continue on, unchanging and unending. It doesn’t matter what I feel for him because he can never be mine.

Swallowing down the thoughts that will lead nowhere, I debate whether to follow Lawrence and ask him for more information or to wait to the room for Alaric to return.

But I have too much pent up energy, and I doubt Lawrence would be willing to entertain my questions.

In the end, I do neither, opting to go left toward the less populated halls through the servants’ quarters. Looking for the library would give me something to do. I don’t know if I’m allowed there, but who would miss a few tomes, especially if I return them when I finish?

I only make it to the top of the stairs before I pause, turning to look at the bust that caught my attention earlier. I approach slowly, as if she would come alive, which is ridiculous. It’s only a carving. Leaning forward, I bring my face close.

The figure’s eyes are closed, and there isn’t a single imperfection visible. It’s so lifelike. Each strand of hair, each eyelash, and curve of her features is carved in minute detail. She looks as if she were once a living and breathing person turned to stone.

I reach out and brush my fingers over her cheek, almost expecting it to be warm.

Two voices sound from the far end of the hall, startling me. I straighten, accidentally tipping the bust. I lunge, managing to catch it before it topples off its pedestal, and settle it back into place.

The voices draw nearer. I don’t recognize them. Stone grinds. Then the back of the alcove gives way revealing a dark passage. I inch toward the dark opening.

I have two choices: stay here and find out who the voices belong to or go into the hidden tunnel. I’m not overly fond of meeting new vampires, so I duck my head and head into the passage.

The door slides closed behind me as I stand in place, waiting for my eyes to adjust. It takes several minutes, but eventually, the faint outline of stairs comes into focus.

I press a hand to the wall. It’s damp, almost slimy to the touch, but I don’t pull away as I descend.

The stairs are narrow and steep. I make my way down. Every once in a while, a sliver of the wall is cut out, allowing in fresh air and the thinnest beam of light. It wends in a tight circle, continuing far deeper than it should to reach the ground level.

After a while, the slits in the wall stop, bathing the stairs in pitch darkness. I take two more steps, unable to see anything at all anymore. Just when I’m about to give up and turn back, an orange glow flickers from the depths, barely noticeable, but it’s there.

I glance back up the stairs. I have already come this far. I might as well see what is at the bottom.

It’s not a doorway but a narrow passage about seven feet deep. A torch, lit on the wall, flickers on the other side. I turn sideways and squeeze through. It’s tight. Not many could fit in such a small place.

I inch to the end, stopping before I leave the shadows, and listen. Time ticks by, but there’s no sign of anyone or anything else.

Then I hear it—the soft sound of chains moving and a quiet, pitiful moan. I wait for guards to make their rounds, but the area remains empty and quiet.