Page 16 of The Vampire Debt

Miss Valmont squirms under my scrutiny.

She hadn’t even hesitated to jump in the frigid water when all others, including the spawn’s own family, stayed on land and only cried in response, content to lament her fate rather than attempt to thwart it. It is a quality that Rosalie would have cherished.

I am curious to see what she is made of, what other contradictions lay hidden within her.

I feel my will weakening and I’m not sure I’ll be able to kill this girl after all. Not now, knowing she is not completely heartless, but somewhere down in her dark heart, there lies a shred of humanity.

For now, that is something I shall keep to myself.

Chapter Eight

Clara

Demons takeme to the Otherworld now. His constant study grows to be too much, and I fear I may lose my mind before the end of this journey. It’s unbearable. His gaze is unflinching and nearly tangible, igniting something down in the depth of my soul.

I shift for perhaps the millionth time. For as luxurious as this carriage is, the cushioned seat still hurts after sitting on it all day long.

He hasn’t moved once, at least not in any noticeable way. Does he not have feeling in his ass anymore, or have too many carriage rides over the years killed all the nerves in that area?

If I had thought he might offer me a change of clothes or a blanket, the time I’ve spent drenched in river water has cured me of that expectation.

I will be provided anything I might need he had told me—it is laughable.

The chill bites and has soaked me to the bone, and I can barely feel my own body, which is made worse by the fact that night has fallen. A dry blanket would be lovely right now. Were I alone, I could strip myself of these clothes as they dried.

Outside, night has fallen and the wind howls, carrying upon it the whispers of lesser demons through the trees. A thick fog rolls in, covering the ground in a pale haze.

I turn away, closing the curtain to the window next to me, and look everywhere inside, except at the vampire studying me. My gaze floats around, not finding anything in the simple design to focus on. Everything is covered in black, save for the few gold flourishes, and in the dark those don’t shine. Eventually, I settle on the folds of his jacket.

Being cold is bad enough but having someone glare at me for hours on end is only adding to my sour mood—even if he has the face of an angel. I’m just about to open my mouth to deliver a derisive comment when the carriage jolts to a stop.

Mr. Devereaux swings the door open and steps out of the carriage, not bothering to look back. He stands there patiently, not moving or saying a word. I suppose it’s better than being ordered about like a dog.

After a moment, I step out, my muscles stiff and aching from the cold and lack of movement. When I look up, I see we’ve stopped at an inn, The Grand Manor—though there is little even I would consider grand about it. Two other carriages trot away, having dropped off their passengers moments before we arrived.

Following a step behind him, we enter the inn. The lighting is dim.

The interior is far nicer than anything I’ve seen in Littlemire—wallpapered walls, polished wood surfaces, gas lamps on the walls lighting the inside. Exquisite fabric and décor clutter the sitting room off to our right, and between that and the clerk’s desk is an elegantly designed staircase leading up. Then to the left is a set of closed doors. I wonder if it leads to the dining area.

“Keep your head down,” Mr. Devereaux says quietly to me.

Instinctively I obey, keeping my eyes locked on the dark, filthy floor as we walk forward to the clerk’s desk.

Water drips from my hair and clothes, creating a puddle at my feet. As much as I cannot stand him, I couldn’t bring myself to further ruin the rich fabric of the carriage by ringing out the water.

I keep my chin tucked to my chest but manage to catch glimpses of the others. The vampires stand in a neat line, each with a human by their side. There are seven claimed humans all together, but only five vampires including mine. The humans are all clean and one woman, little more than a girl, with hair the color of gold dipped in strawberry syrup is even in a pristine white dress—the color of those who actually worship these monsters.

Unlike them, I’m covered in grime and soaked. But I don’t regret saving that little girl.

I clench my hands into fists. I hate that I look so disheveled and wretched. So I square my shoulders and lift my chin, looking straight ahead. Some of the other humans look terrified, two of them look…happy. My lip curls in disgust.

None of them share a look that comes close to the anger I feel.

The girl in the white dress turns to look at her new vampire master and beams up at him. I think I’m going to be sick. The look of pure adoration is nauseating.

I flick my eyes up at Mr. Devereaux, he’s looking straight ahead, a little too interested in the inn keeper’s ramblings as he hands out the keys. He’s doing everything he can to avoid meeting my gaze.

Standing here, it’s all I can do to keep my teeth from chattering. My entire body trembles. If I didn’t know better, I would think I was shaking in terror for the life, however brief, that awaits me and the no doubt painful death he has all but promised me.