Page 20 of Blood & Bedlam

The thought sobers me, has me tucking the sketchbook under my arm and moving from my seat. Forcing myself to put one foot in front of the other. Every step feels like a death march, because even though she is an impostor … she wears my love’s face. Her smile. Fates, even her scent, but she is not my Mina. I summon up the atrocities I witnessed aboard that ship all those years ago, the visage of four young women who endured so much and survived, who thrived, who grew into powerful vampyr in their own rights. I wrap myself around the vow I made to protect them from any who would seek to harm them, and it’s that vow ringing in my ears that deafens me to the revelry that’s happening in the dining room.

Stefan opens the doors for me, and I’m greeted with reddened faces of cheer, except for Camille, who’s wearing her signature scowl. She watches Reine and her siblings toss grapes into champagne glasses, some cheering, some booing when the displaced bubbly sloshes over the sides. My energy permeates the room, heavy and sobering, a storm come to reckon. They all grow immediately still—all except for Reine. She claps when she sinks another grape in, oblivious to the looks of shame the rest of them wear.

“That’ll be twenty bucks, pay up!” she cries, her smile and excitement faltering when her gaze lands on me. She’s drunk, incredibly drunk, cheeks red from the wine, and the looks I must be shooting her way. “Oh, Vlad. Heyyy …” Her word slurs into a hiccup that would have been endearing if it weren’t for the fact that she’s trying to infiltrate my family using my dead wife’s face. The sound of chairs scraping against the hardwood fills the tense silence as the rest of my children and their kind sit down. Reine clears her throat, hands smoothing down the fabric of the dress I bought her before making her way back to the chair at the end of the table.

Opposite mine.

Disappointment crashes through me at the loss of what could have been, but I tamp it down. I need to know what this is about, what her endgame is, and that means I need to interrogate her. Actually, it means Fleur needs to, but I can’t quite reconcile that—it needs to be me. My footsteps, slow and measured, echo as I cross to my seat. I silence the bloodlink, stalling the barrage of confused questions echoing from Juliette, Claire, and Fleur. Only Cami’s jaw is set, her blue eyes narrowed as her hands rest in her lap. She looks unaffected, but I know it cost her everything not to make a run at Reine as soon as she left my office.

Stefan pulls my chair and I nod my thanks as I sit, slipping the large sketchbook behind my back as I do. When I finally bring my eyes to meet Reine’s, she’s fidgeting, nervous. I use my senses to check her over. She wears no magic talismans that I can see or taste, no prick of power that warns my kind to steer clear like other witches. But there is something that scratches at me, a subtle current of power that doesn’t belong. My nostrils flare.

I lift my glass to her.

“To finding truth, at whatever cost,” I announce. She swallows, lips barely moving as she repeats the toast and drinks. I note the tremble in her hand as her fear seeps into the air, her white-knuckle grip on the stem of the glass as she drinks. She knows something isn’t right. Reine is human, but all creatures have an instinct that warns them when they come up against predators—most just don’t listen. Her eyes slowly move around the room, nearly imperceptible as she establishes exits, but I clock it, then kick myself for letting her have an unfettered run of the Manor this morning. She could have formed an exit strategy, but it makes no difference.

Her chances of leaving here are none.

I nearly choke on my wine at the thought, but I’m fixed in my resolve. With a wave of Kendra’s hand, the first course arrives, the only sound the scraping of metal against porcelain as they eat their salads topped with blood-tinted dressing. Reine pushes her food around her plate, barely nibbling on anything, though we can all hear the growl in her stomach. The silence swells uncomfortably amidst the scrape of cutlery against porcelain, and when Cami looks to be at the end of her patience, I dab my napkin at the edges of my mouth before turning the full weight of everyone’s attention on Reine.

“I assume that introductions have been made in my absence. I apologize for my tardiness, Kendra,” I add, dipping my chin to her. Kendra’s eyes are bright as she and Fleur communicate furiously through their bloodlink, but she smiles graciously and accepts my words, worry still clearly etched onto her face. Kendra loves to plan parties and organize gatherings, and I hate that I’m about to ruin this one. Reine takes another gulp of her wine. I track the way her muscles work to swallow it down, have to shake myself to keep my mind from wandering and focus on the task at hand.

“Tell us, Reine, where do you come from?” I ask, keeping my voice as level as I can. I’m listening to the beat of her heart, the rapid rate of blood pumping. Pheromones release from her skin, scenting the air with distress. She’s sensing danger, but if she’s trained as a spy or an assassin, it’s poorly done—the tells of her body betray her at every turn.

“Oh, I’m from here—thought the accent gave it away.” The half-hearted attempt at a joke falls flat so she busies herself with another sip, but the line of the wine isn’t lower when she brings it back down.

Interesting.

“Any family? Mother, father, brothers maybe? Montague— that’s French, is it not?” I ask, keeping my tone light and neutral, though the weight of the air is heavy against us all. Drake is on high alert, but Claire looks pissed, clearly confused at what’s happening.

“Uh, well, I have a mother, obviously, or had one, but she died, or that’s what I was told. She didn’t really have anyone, and my dad wasn’t in the picture, so I ended up in the system. I don’t really have any other people—me. But it’s good. I mostly keep to myself.” There’s a heavy dose of sorrow layered beneath the shrug-off. There hasn’t been a change in her stress symptoms, outside of the fight-or-flight response she’s having.

“But y’all have a beautiful family. It’s really gorgeous and y’all are all, like, hot as hell. Whew.” I see her wince, as though she’s mortified at what she’s said, but she fans herself anyway. There’s red creeping up her chest from between the valley of her breasts, but I fix my eyes on hers to keep from thinking too much on that.

“Did you know who I was, prior to last night at the gala?”

I can’t wait anymore. I need to know. I need her to look at me and lie to my face, so I can get this over with, even though it’ll destroy me to hurt her. Confusion passes over her face, her eyes wide and unguarded, and I swear she’s as open a book as Mina was. A terrible liar, with every single one of her mannerisms on full display for me to dissect, but I can’t seem to separate the two of them, to glean where Mina ends and Reine begins.

“What do you mean?” she asks, her heart rate jumping. The rapid pump of her pulse against her skin draws my eye and I count each beat like music on long deaf ears.

“Did you know who I was, before last night? Who we were.” I gesture around the table. Fleur stiffens, nails sharpening to points as she catches on. Reine shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut as though trying to understand what’s happening. The fear radiating from her is choking.

“No. I didn’t know who any of them were,” she replies, but her eyes don’t meet mine. I hope they don’t, so it won’t hurt so bad when I rip the heart from her chest.

I hope she does, so I can look into her blue eyes one last time before I do it.

“Reine.” Her name falls from my lips more gently than I intended, but I can’t help it. I’m miserable, bleeding out from an eight-hundred-year-old wound.

“Did you know me? Before last night.”

It feels like the air is sucked out of the room as her hands come up to rest on the table and her eyes meet mine, pale and deep oceans that remind me of the old country, of making love underneath star-filled skies. Her chin lifts, a little defiant even while she trembles. The sound of her heart thrumming in her chest is nearly overwhelming.

“I met you for the first time last night. When vampires kidnapped me, drank from me, kept me locked inside my mind, and made me watch as they murdered my best friend in front of my face. I met you again when I woke up here, in your home, surrounded by monsters who promised they wouldn’t hurt me.” There’s a spark of accusation in her eyes as anger flares to life in the depths of blues. Her chest heaves as she stands, leaning into my stare. “But you are going to hurt me, aren’t you, Vladimir? Yeah … that’s what this is, this feeling, this reckoning. Well, I can tell you what.” Her hand darts out, snagging her glass. We watch as Reine drains the last few fingers of red wine before tossing it to the floor, shattering glass everywhere. “You’re not gonna fuckin’ play with me until you decide to do it. Either you’re going to man up and kill me, or I’m walking out that damn door right now.”

Reine’s head is held high in her challenge, chin raised in defiance even as fear grips her.

It’s incredible to witness—intoxicating, even. Her defiance, her fury. It’s so fucking Mina that I can’t shake them apart. She waits, her chest drawing shallow breaths that drop between us. There are seven other vampyr in this room that could dispatch her in less than a second, but her eyes never leave mine.

Slowly, I reach behind me and pull out the sketchbook, opening the cover to hold up an image that struck me through the chest when I saw it. A portrait of me from the shoulders up, her hands wrapped around my throat, moonlight bathing us in a soft glow of midnight blue hues. Reine cocks her head to the side, taking in the artwork she no doubt recognizes.