Page 75 of The Vampire Court

“Asmod is one of the stronger demons to grace Nightwich,” Cassius says. “Elizabeth’s demon, Kharis, draws on the power of any demon while they are within the confines of these walls. You will most likely never see a demon unless their vampire needs the proximity of their power.”

He plucks the napkin from me and swipes at my cheek, dislodging a small bit of meat I’d missed and wiping the rest of my face like I was a child, then straightens. Cassius searches my eyes. He frowns then turns away, walking to the door.

“Get some rest while you can. I will not go easy on you in the morning just because you decided to mope about things outside of your control.”

There is so much I don’t understand about him. Nothing I say or do gets under his skin. I suppose I should be grateful because other than Alaric, he is my only ally.

Cassius stood up for me during the trial and has taken it upon himself to train me.

But he has also lied and attempted to manipulate my situation for Elizabeth…

* * *

I breathe deepand blink into the darkness that envelops the room. Straightening, I wince at the twinge that developed in my neck after falling asleep sitting up.

My eyelids droop as I consider lying down and going back to sleep when I hear the sound that woke me.

Clara…

Clara…

… Clara…

The soft whisper of my name pulls on my consciousness.

Clara…

The slow rhythm of my pulse speeds up. Scooting forward, I drop my feet to the floor. I grip the edge of the mattress and peer into the dark.

“Who’s there?” The words come out weak and dry, scratching my throat. I wait in the answering silence. My fingers twitch, wanting to reach for my dagger.

Then, I feel it.

The lightest tug within my chest. I rub my hand over the spot. I focus on it as it grows stronger.

Is this… the mark?

The possibility that Alaric is using our connection to lead me to him has my pulse vibrating in my veins. I push up from the bed, finding my legs stiff and aching.

Carefully, I pluck the night-forged dagger from under my pillow and strap it to my arm. Then, crossing the room, I slip into my suede boots near the door.

I peek out into the dimly lit hallway. The usual bustle of activity has yet to start for the night. Quietly, I step out of my room and close the door behind me. I keep close to the wall, hurrying toward the stairs leading up to the third floor.

The worn leather soles of my boots pad softly against the stone. I stick to where the shadows are thickest. Halfway down the hall, the sensation shifts. I stop trying to lead it where I want to go and focus on where it’s pulling me—which isn’t up to Alaric’s rooms, as I assumed, but down through back halls.

Is it possible that he’s waiting for me somewhere else?

With each passing second, the pull intensifies. I pick up speed, taking the stairs two and three at a time, hurtling down toward the lower level.

The sense of urgency continues to build with every step until I’m nearly crawling out of my skin with anticipation. I jump the last three steps, landing in a crouch that jars my knees and taking off in a run.

There’s a single torch lit at each end of the hall, but I don’t slow until I pass the training room.

What I had assumed was the end of the hall turns out to be a sharp corner that descends farther beneath the castle. I wrinkle my nose at the overpowering musty air and mildew wafting up.

I hesitate, not wanting to enter the inky darkness below.

Why would Alaric lead me this far?