Page 55 of Bloodgrove

“I do not believe we sent you to hell. All I see are people who choose anew every night to remain in it.”

Mr. Arcos laughed dryly, released his chin, and stepped beside him at the balustrade. The sheathed sword brushed Will’s arm as he turned to face the crowd as well. As always, he searched for Elodie, but she was nowhere to be seen. She had sent Will ahead alone, mentioning only in passing that Duke Wilkinson would collect her. Midnight was approaching now, and even the Red Hand had noticed her absence. Will was not surprised to see the man dressed as the god of hell.

“What are you supposed to be?” Will asked, tearing his gaze from the Red Hand with a shudder. He turned toward the ambassador and folded his arms across his chest, which felt painfully bare beside all that armor.

“We have a legend about an infamous vampire hunter, a black knight. The people loved and hated him, because rumors claimed he was himself a monster beneath the armor. And so they imprisoned him with the vampires in the harbor district, forcing him to fight for his life night after night.

“One day, a gate broke, and the vampires threatened to flood the entire city. The black knight considered leaving the city to its destruction. But in the end, he sacrificed himself. He fought until dawn, and when the people found him standing atop a mountain of corpses, they drove him from the city. To this day, he is said to roam the mountains, and no one knows whether he truly was a monster.”

Will listened, mesmerized, and for a moment, he thought he could see it—the flicker of fire upon black armor, the howling of vampires, the wild beast fighting in the first glow of morning. A moment later, the vision vanished, leaving only the lights of the celebration and the voices of the revelers.

Mr. Arcos removed his helmet, a treacherous smile on his lips. “But if you ask me, he made the wrong choice. There is no salvation for the damned.”

“I wonder whether you would tear the gate open farther and rule them all as king of the vampires, or burn everything down with you in one final act.”

“That is the question, I suppose…” His sharp face and hard eyes turned to Will with unbearable intensity, and Will wished he would put the helmet back on.

“Is that why you want to become the Red Hand?”

Arcos never had the chance to answer. At the entrance to the ballroom, the crowd parted to make way for two new arrivals.

Elodie, Duchess Ormonde, entered on Duke Wilkinson’s arm, enveloped in a red nightmare. Hundreds of eyes covered the sweeping skirt, returning the stares of the onlookers. Every inch of the gown was embroidered, if not with eyeballs, then with imitations of wild-growing flesh. Will shuddered at the sight of her small figure, which appeared larger than life tonight.

“Duke Wilkinson and his betrothed, Duchess Ormonde!” the master of ceremonies announced, and Will felt the entire room falter before erupting into waves of whispers that swelled into thunderous applause.

Beside him, Mr. Arcos went rigid. The poor man gripped the stone railing, and it almost seemed as though the stone grew cracks beneath his claws. His face was a mask of shock and pain.

Will watched him with a mixture of satisfaction and jealousy.

“Betrothed?” Mr. Arcos echoed, and in the same breath, his polite expression snapped back into place. He transformed into edges and coldness, an armor he wore more easily than the bracers and breastplate covering him tonight.

“Yes,” Will sighed, looking back toward Elodie, who well-wishers now surrounded. From the corner of his eye, he saw a servant whisper into the Red Hand’s ear, but the man’s response was concealed by the fan a slave lowered before his face. “Apparently, she has been planning it for some time.”

“And you knew?” Mr. Arcos hissed.

“Yes. Since yesterday.”

Mr. Arcos’s silver-black eyes narrowed, and he leaned toward him. “What does Elodie want from you? Why is she confiding her plans to you?”

Will smiled sadly and shrugged, making his wings flutter. “I do not know, and that frightens me.” He wasn’t sure why he was telling Mr. Arcos the truth of all people, but this man was his best chance for finding answers.

Mr. Arcos snorted. “Then you are even more naïve than I thought, little pup. This city will devour you alive if you follow Elodie blindly.”

“Then help me. You know Elodie better than anyone.” Will moved closer to the black knight. His delicate hand, with its long, slender fingers, looked fragile upon the balustrade beside the black claw.

“How could you possibly know that?” Mr. Arcos asked.

Will shrugged again, and the uncertainty in the question only confirmed his suspicions. “I have a feeling you are the knight who sacrifices himself. The only question is why.”

“Do not mistake me for a hero.”

“No, indeed. You are the beast. But I have heard the devil makes the best bargains.”

Mr. Arcos gave a brief laugh, but his eyes no longer left Will. “What could you offer me?” Once again, he let an assessing gaze travel over Will’s bare torso. “You look like a blood whore,” he said contemptuously, slowly leaning closer. “I only need to drag my claws across your skin, and I would have enough blood to force you to your knees before me. Willing and ravenous, you would beg to obey my every command.”

Will’s lips curled into a crooked smile. With an unhurried gesture, he swept a strand of hair over the leather harness. “Careful. It almost looks as though the beast is drooling.”

Mr. Arcos squared his shoulders and turned his gaze toward the guests. “Very well. I promise to help you discover what Elodie wants from you—and protect you from it if necessary.”