Page 62 of The Vampire Debt

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Clara

I pullin a deep breath and let it out, stretching my entire body. My legs are tired and a little sore. I sit up and look around, unsure how I got to my room…

A dull ache thrums behind my eyes and I press the heel of my palm to my head. I need water. The last thing I remember was being in the drawing room with Alaric…

My hand flies to my mouth,he’s hurt.

I slide off the bed, pulse pounding in my veins. I have to find him.

Still dressed in the clothes I wore yesterday, I race through the hall and down the stairs, nearly running into the doorframe to the drawing room.

The fire burns. But the bowl of water and bloodied rags are gone. There is no evidence that we were ever there.

I walk in and look at the wall next to the hearth where he had slumped against me, the spot where I had held him until I lost the battle to my own exhaustion.

I know I didn’t imagine it. I had run and been attacked by a lesser demon. Alaric had come and somehow chased them off. I know he fought a demon and was injured. Though they both moved impossibly fast, Ihadwatched them fight. I know I had.

My leg… I was hurt. But since I woke up, I’ve been walking on it. It’s not even sore. I reach down and pull up the last of my trousers and look at my leg. There’s no sign of bruising or swelling.

But that isn’t right—I had felt the pain as that demon grabbed me and dragged me across the forest.

I make my way to the dining area to find it empty, not so much as a single cup set out. Then I make my way back upstairs to check the library, only to find that it, too, is empty and cold for the lack of a fire. I don’t even hesitate, going to the third floor. Two rooms are locked, the first, which I assume to be his, and the mysterious room from before. I knock on each and wait, only for no reply to come.

His study is all that is left. The door is ajar and there is a fire going, but Alaric is not there.

He couldn’t have died—but I would know… wouldn’t I?

I feel as if I am the only one in this large manor. Not even the servants are around… they have probably already left for the evening as the sun will set soon.

Returning to the bottom floor, I venture to the back, only to discover what I thought was a servant’s area is really another hall leading to a massive music room, fit for entertaining as many people as one could want.

Much like the rest of the manor, the floors and walls are a dark mahogany wood. Windows cover the two outer walls. They are grouped into sets of three with pointed arches at the top and the center window being the largest.

The vaulted ceiling is broken up into four parts, giving the feeling of separating the room into several sections, each punctuated with a chandelier made of black metal and crystals.

Large decorative rugs are set around the room. In one section, along the south side of the room, is a black grand piano, and light from the candelabra atop it glitters like gold off the polished surface. Plush couches and chairs are situated within the sections.

In each corner of the room are built in shelves housing a number of books.

I wander farther into the room and there is another hall, half hidden behind an illusion caused by shadows and heavy drapes leading toward what I believe is the atrium.

The rich scent of roses and other flowers perfume the air. I inhale deeply and follow it, content to be momentarily distracted in my search.

As I near the glass doors, tall, lush plants block the view inside. A woman’s voice drifts into the hall. I pause before the opening. Dim candlelight emanates from inside.

Near the center of the room, a large pool of water with a small fountain pours a thin stream of water from a winding sculpture of flowers and thorny vines.

The blood in my veins turns to ice. Alaric stands before it. He holds a woman tightly to him. One hand tilting her head to the side... and his mouth is pressed to her neck.

The rest of the world falls away and spots dance before my eyes, I inhale a sharp breath and blink, trying to get rid of them.

His gaze shoots up and locks on me. The slightest line of dark liquid drips down the corner of his mouth. I back up into the shadows.

“Leave,” he orders her, not breaking eye contact with me, and releases her from his arms as if she were nothing.

The woman giggles drunkenly, then pouts when she sees that he’s done with her. Sullenly she walks away and out the glass doors into the night.