The same goes for you."
And I also hope that nothing happens to Victor.
At school Michael holds my hand as we walk along the hallways. Whenever we pass Lila, she gives me the evil eye, which I ignore. Any other time I might relish those glares from her, but today I'm distracted. I'm thinking about Victor and what will happen tonight. I'm the only human who knows we're on the cusp of a change....
I don't want to think about how it could all end very badly. I have faith in Victor. He will overthrow his father. Life for humans and vampires will get better.
After school, Vivi goes to the hospital with me. Walking into Rachel's room, I see Jeff sitting in the chair, holding her hand. I feel my chest trying to cave, collapsing from the knowledge that I'm responsible for this.
Jeff gets to his feet. "Hey."
He always seemed so tough. Now he looks so vulnerable.
"No change?" I ask.
"None."
I move closer to the bed. Rachel's eyes are closed. I brush her hair aside, wishing her sweet dreams.
"I'm going to get some coffee," Jeff says. "I'll give you some time alone."
But I'm not completely alone after he leaves, since Vivi stays. She takes my hand, squeezes it. "She's gonna be okay."
Yeah." I lean down and whisper near Rachel's ear, "I'm so sorry, Rachel. If you can hear me, I'm so sorry."
"'Kay."
I release a tiny screech. Vivi jumps back so fast and hard that she nearly takes my arm off with her. I work my hand out of her grasp and shove her toward the door. "Get a doctor or a nurse. Get Jeff."
Then my attention is back on Rachel. Her eyes are fluttering open.
"Rachel?"
She gives a little moan. "What happened?"
"What do you remember?"
"Guy. With a hoodie. Didn't really see him. Came up behind me. I turned. Then lights-out." A corner of her mouth quirks up. "Dreamed Jeff said he loved me."
"Probably not a dream. When he's not working, he's been here." A doctor and a couple of nurses are suddenly rushing into the room and pushing me out. Jeff and Vivi are racing down the hallway to me.
"Did she really wake up?" Jeff asks.
"Yes. She didn't get a good look at her attacker."
"But she's going to be okay?"
I grin so broadly that my jaw aches. "I think so."
From the balcony, I watch the sun set. I have hope that a time will soon come when it won't signal that the monsters are coming out to play. Maybe I'm too optimistic, but it feels good after so long to have hope.
Michael has an all-night training session. Otherwise he'd be here. I keep the TV turned on, just to have some sound. Rachel will remain in the hospital for another couple of days.
After night descends, I wander back into the living room. My nerves are on edge as I pace. I'm having a difficult time concentrating. I'm wondering when I'll hear from Victor. Tonight? Tomorrow? I'm so tempted to tell Clive that I need to get out there to talk to Valentine about the blood supply, that we had unfinished business from the previous night that must be seen to. Any excuse. But I know Victor is right: I'll be more hindrance than help. It's just that waiting is so damned hard.
I hear a knock on the door. Looking through the peephole, I feel my heart jump at the sight of two perfectly dressed strangers. Black suits, long hair tied back, pale skin. They each wear matching lapel pins: a wolf's head in front of a giant V. They're from Valentine.
And they're vampires.
"Dawn Montgomery," one of them calls through the door. "The great Lord has requested your presence. Immediately."
I really need to learn to watch what I wish for.
I open the door to find my two guards sprawled on the floor. "They'd better not be dead."
"Only sleeping. They'll be fine as long as you come along with us and cause no trouble," the larger one who is obviously in charge replies.
"I have to get dressed," I say.
"There's no need. Or time."
"What is this all about?" I ask.
"We're to bring you to the manor. Everything will be explained there."
What choice do I have? Worse is the knowledge that Victor didn't send them. He wouldn't have left me worrying. He would have had them tell me that Lord Victor Valentine requested my presence. So did Victor confront his father and lose? Or has the confrontation not yet taken place? Let me get my things," I say, striving to give the appearance of calm.
"You have all you need." He takes my arm, ending the discussion and confirming my suspicion that Victor didn't send them. He'd never put up with their treating me like this.
They escort me out of the building. A black carriage is waiting for me. It's more luxurious than the one Winston drives, pulled by a team of six horses, each one large and jet-black, as if possessed by a demon and given supernatural strength. The front-desk guard must assume this is simply delegate business as usual, and I try to act natural to perpetuate that belief. Otherwise they might harm him.
The smaller vampire gets into the driver's seat, while the other one assists me into the coach. The inside is much more glamorous than the one I'm used to. With thick red velvet seats, and tiny oil lamps hanging by the windows, it's actually incredibly comfortable. A small cabinet to the left houses wine and glasses, and a bottle of what can only be blood.
The other vampire sits across from me as we begin the journey out of the city. The ride, as I expected, is smooth, like we're gliding on air. I pull out my cell phone to call Clive, or at least Jeff, and let them know what's going on. But as soon as the phone is in my hand, the vampire snatches it from me.
"Hey!" I say, losing all my trained etiquette.
The vampire returns my look with a deadly stare of his own.
"There will be no need for calls," he says. He looks at the device with a certain amount of disgust, marking him as an older vampire.
"Very well," I say. "I will expect my phone back in my hand when I leave the mansion." My manners return in stellar form.
"Of course. When you leave."
His tone sends a chill through me.
When we arrive, the vampire in charge escorts me into the house and down an unfamiliar hallway. He stops outside an open door. I peer into the room.
"I'm so glad you could make it tonight, Miss Montgomery." The Bloody Valentine's voice echoes in the space. I slowly turn my head to the right and see the monster vampire standing on the far side of the room, staring up at a huge painting. He's wearing his full formal attire.
"Please come in," he says.
Despite my fear, I obey. Any other choice is just an illusion.
The room I step into is the strangest I've ever seen. It's an art gallery, small, but at least three stories high. Paintings decorate every inch of space. Big ones, small ones, gorgeous ones and ugly ones. Pencils and pastels. Charcoal and oil. Landscapes and portraits. Hundreds of years of human art swirling upward around me.
"I hate this room," Valentine says, moving from one wall to another. "It's the only place that makes me despise what I am. Not one artist has ever been a vampire. At least, not a good one. We simply can't see the beauty in a hummingbird, or a tree, or especially a rising sun. I don't know why, but we see things so differently."
"I'm sure it's—"
"Don't speak," he says, with a flash of anger I've never seen. It's uncontrolled, a rage just below the surface.
Fear such as I've never known ignites within me. The only reason I don't panic is because I envision Victor storming through the door to rescue me.
"This one is my favorite," Lord Valentine continues calmly, walking over to a portrait of a young girl. The black background contrasts with her porcelain face. She's beautiful. "Seventeenth-century painting of a servant girl. When I saw this, I demanded the artist take me to her. I was looking for a new companion." Valentine slowly caresses the painting with his massive hands. "When I found her, she was old and ugly. I told her I could have kept her beautiful forever. Do you know what she said to me? 'All is vanity.'"
Valentine shoves his fingers into the painting and rips them downward, tearing the canvas apart. The beautiful girl becomes shredded, dangling down from the frame in pieces.
Silence fills the room until he finally says, "You're not quite as bold as you were before."
I try to respond, but my throat is knotted by the fear that he's completely lost his mind.
"I didn't bring you out here to look at paintings." Valentine pauses. "Every few decades, the Valentine family has a small reunion. My brothers join me here at the manor. And during these reunions, we are each allowed to bring a guest. I've always feared large numbers; one can never know who one can trust in a crowd like that. And trust is an important thing, wouldn't you say, Dawn?"
"Very important, m'lord."
"I'm glad we agree. Because I've decided to trust you, Dawn. So much so that I've brought you as my guest."
"M'lord?"
"Yes, I know, a bit unconventional. A human has never been allowed into my inner sanctum quite like this, but I felt that your presence would be welcomed. I hope you'll accept. Everyone is already here; they're waiting for us upstairs."
I swallow hard. Once again, any other choice is just an illusion.
"I would be honored," I say, clinging to formality in the hopes that it will remind him of my delegate status. Hoping, too, that my presence won't be welcomed as dinner.
Valentine gives me a broad smile, and I see his fangs, each one massive in size, glistening.
"Then let's not keep our guests waiting."
He walks toward me, grabs my arm like a vise, and leads me down the hall. And I know by his touch that I'm not his guest; I'm his hostage.
I'm afraid he's not taking me to dinner after all. That he's hauling me into a room to show me Victor's battered and beaten body. That he's going to demonstrate the folly of not giving him total loyalty.
We go up a flight of marbled stairs, down another corridor, and face gigantic double doors. He places one hand on the handle.
"I gave you a chance, Dawn," Valentine says, his grip threatening to break my arm. "I could've given you the earth, the stars, and everything in between. Now you will pay for choosing Victor over me."
He opens the door and shoves me in violently.
The room is cold and dark, lit with just a few poorly placed gas lamps giving off their yellow glow across the stone walls. In the middle is a large, ornate table, thick with aged wood. I immediately recognize one of the four sitting at it.
"Dawn!" Victor shouts, surging to his feet.
I want to rush over to him, because I'm so glad he's alive. But Valentine is beside me, and I'm still very much under his control. Even when he isn't holding me, his vampire speed makes me just as vulnerable as if his hands were already wrapped around my neck.
"Miss Montgomery, I don't believe you've met my brothers, Ransom"—a vampire who very much resembles Valentine stands and bows—"and Seymour." The other male gets to his feet. He's bloated with excess, and I don't want to think about how much human blood it took to get him to that grotesque state. An air of entitlement rolls off both of them in waves. While etiquette demands that they stand until I'm seated, they both return to their chairs, their expressions of disgust telling me that to them I'm nothing beyond a source of blood.
"My daughter, Faith."
She looks to be nearly my age. To say she's beautiful would be like saying the sun glows a tad. I've never seen one before—an Old Family female. Their rarity is reflected in their beauty, as if a huge amount were divided among the very few of them. She has perfect skin, fiery red hair, and an hourglass figure. Her eyes are the same sharp blue as Victor's, but they look more seductive, if that were possible. Her red dress hugs every curve.
She does little more than wiggle her fingers at me, seemingly bored with my sudden entrance into this room.
"And I believe you've met Richard Carrollton."
I wonder how he knows it. If Richard is wondering the same thing it doesn't show on his face as he steps out of the shadows.
Theatrically, Valentine says, "And allow me to introduce to all of you Dawn Montgomery, delegate, co conspirator, traitor. Curtsy, Dawn."
I don't. I stand there with my shoulders back, my spine straight. I hold Victor's gaze, trying to convince him I'm not afraid, even though my knees are trembling.
"Curtsy!" Valentine shouts, his booming voice echoing off the walls.
Victor gives me a brusque nod. So I do what Valentine asks. I pretend to be meek. I curtsy and say, in my best delegate voice, "It's a pleasure."
Valentine chuckles darkly. "Oh, what games we all play. I know my son tried his hardest not to involve you tonight. And for good reason. He doesn't want you to witness his actions at this final moment."
"This has nothing to do with her," Victor says, taking a step forward.
"It has everything to do with her!" Valentine yells. "She had a choice regarding whose side to join: mine or yours. She chose you. That makes her just as guilty as you. Who else? Stand up now! Who else has sided with this bastard son of mine?"
Faith rises, a cool confidence imbuing the move.
"My own daughter," Valentine says, a steely anger in his voice. "I should have known. You're as disloyal as your mother. Who else?"
Richard steps forward.
"Of course," Valentine says. "When Faith brought you as her guest, I thought it was a joke. Now I see the real purpose. My brothers? Whose side do you stand on?"
Valentine's brothers remain seated, but unlike Faith, they definitely do not give the appearance of being bored. I can see them calculating what all this means to them and how they can best profit by it.
"So this is it?" Valentine says. "Your grand plan to overthrow me?"
"You've gone mad," Victor says. "You no longer reign over the vampires; your own blood-lust rules you while the Lessers starve. When we turned them, we had an obligation to provide for them. Now the Thirst is sweeping east, heading straight for us."