The Cold Kiss of Death (34 page)
Sally’s blood.
Sally had been given to me as a present on my twelfth birthday: my very own lady’s maid and companion. We were supposed to be inseparable, two young girls growing up together, but Sally was three years older than me, and she wasn’t interested in being friends, not with me, anyway. Not that I minded; she was pretty, with her pale blue skin and long blue-white hair, and part fae - her great-grandmother was a Cailleac Bhuer, one of the Blue Hags - so I’d been happy just to follow her around.
My prince - my betrothed - Bastien, the Autarch, the monster - came towards me. He let the sword fall from his hand and it clattered to the ground. His bare feet soaked up the blood, leaving unbloodied footprints on the flagstone floor. The wet ends of his hair dripped down his shoulders. The splatters on his face looked like teenage freckles. Not even his height - he was close on six feet tall - could make him look much older than the fifteen he’d been when he’d accepted the Gift.
The shadows followed behind him, always present, never breached, never mentioned, and never revealed—
Only now I knew what the shadows hid: Malik al-Khan, the Autarch’s ... what? The question rose like an accusation out of my memory then sank slowly back into the darkness.
‘You are looking very beautiful, my sidhe princess.’ The monster’s handsome young face smiled, a joyous, open grin that didn’t hide his fangs, nor the gleam of lust for pain in his eyes.
‘Thank you, my prince,’ I whispered, unable to stop my legs trembling the closer he came.
The monster executed a low, elegant bow and held out his hand to me. Sally’s thin plait of blue-white hair lay limp in his palm. ‘To the victor the spoils, is that not right, my bride?’
I curled my shaking fingers into the heavy material of my dress. I didn’t want to be the victor; I’d never wanted to be the victor - I hadn’t even realised there was a contest until it was waged and lost. I’d always known he would have others as well as me, for my father had educated me well. In my future there had been no winners or losers, just fairy tales of happily ever after with my prince. But Sally hadn’t known the rules; she’d set out to win, unaware her battle was a barely noticed skirmish until she’d staked her victory flag where all could see it.
‘Do you not want my gift, my lovely sidhe?’ He wiped the plait across his bloody chest and presented it again. ‘Is this not what you wanted?’
‘
Take it, Genevieve
.’ The order came into my mind and my hand reached out and snatched the plait from his palm before fear or conscious thought could stop me.
Take it, Genevieve
.’ The order came into my mind and my hand reached out and snatched the plait from his palm before fear or conscious thought could stop me.
‘I hoped my present would please you,’ the monster said softly, and waved around, an expansive gesture, ‘but I have another gift for you to mark our wedding day.’ He held out his hand once again and the necklace sparkled in the flickering candlelight, the diamonds like pink stars as they dripped blood from his fingers. ‘Turn around, my princess. I will fasten it for you.’
‘
Do as he says,
’ said the voice in my mind.
Do as he says,
’ said the voice in my mind.
I curtseyed slowly and dipped my head in acquiescence, then I turned as he bade me, my heart thudding shallow in my chest, fear cramping my stomach. I stared at my father’s aristocratic face, the proud lift of his chin not quite disguising his own fear, then at the frightened expression of Matilde, my stepmother. Her fingers fluttered up to touch the black opals that encircled her own neck, her lips parting with a glimpse of fang, as if to speak, as if maybe to stop him ...
Then she pressed her lips together and her sapphire-blue eyes dropped down to the spreading lake of blood on the floor.
It was the last time I would ever see her look at me.
‘
Be ready to run, Genevieve. At my command.
’
Be ready to run, Genevieve. At my command.
’
The diamonds settled around my throat, the stones heavy against my chilled skin. ‘A gift fit for a queen,
my
sidhe queen,’ said Bastien, the monster, drawing the necklace tight, making it dig into my flesh with a spiteful twist of his fingers. He touched his lips to the curve of my neck; they felt like a brand. His sharp inhalation of my scent sent panicked shivers down my spine.
my
sidhe queen,’ said Bastien, the monster, drawing the necklace tight, making it dig into my flesh with a spiteful twist of his fingers. He touched his lips to the curve of my neck; they felt like a brand. His sharp inhalation of my scent sent panicked shivers down my spine.
‘Sidhe blood, as sweet and rich as fear-spiced honey,’ he said, his voice a mixture of anticipation and satisfaction. ‘Sidhe - and virgin too; is that not so, Alexandre? On your honour, none has tasted your daughter’s blood or body? I have your assurance that she is ready and willing to be broken on my sword?’
Terror fractured the last edge of numbness inside me and piss trickled down my leg to mingle with the blood beneath my feet.
‘As you wished, my liege.’ Anguish flickered in my father’s eyes, then was gone.
‘
Run. Now.
’
Run. Now.
’
I ran, out through the heavy oak doors and into the night, the ground slippery beneath my feet, the heavy brocade dress tangling my legs, my lungs gasping for air, my belly taut with terror, knowing I had to escape, knowing I couldn’t outrun the shadows ...
He caught me from behind and then there was nothing but pain and terror as he held me down, his hand tight in my hair, my smaller body crushed beneath his, and the sudden sharp sting of his fangs piercing the curve of my neck as I pleaded with him and screamed for him to stop ... ... and his lips touched mine in a kiss as cold as death.
Red-blackness pressed against me as insistent hands tried to prise and pinch and pull me apart. Rich spice scented the air and copper sweetness filled my mouth, and in the far distance a haze of gold circled me like an aurora. I’d been here once before, tethered by the same black silken cord that wound around and through me and tied me to the red-blackness, keeping the determined hands from scattering me like dancing motes into the golden haze.
‘
Genevieve.
’ Malik’s voice came from above and below, confusing and indistinct, and the black cord tugged at me from both directions, as if it wanted to tear me in two.
Genevieve.
’ Malik’s voice came from above and below, confusing and indistinct, and the black cord tugged at me from both directions, as if it wanted to tear me in two.
‘It has been too long, vampire.’ A snort of unease edged the deep, burred tone. ‘Her soul should have returned to her body by now.’
‘My connection with her is still there, kelpie, although there is more resistance to my call now than the first time her soul was severed.’
‘
Genevieve.
’ The call came from below me this time, stronger, more urgent. I flowed down towards it.
Genevieve.
’ The call came from below me this time, stronger, more urgent. I flowed down towards it.
‘
Genevieve
.’ An echo stretched faintly above me, making me hesitate.
Genevieve
.’ An echo stretched faintly above me, making me hesitate.
‘T’would have been better to let the spell take its natural course and let the bodies reassert themselves at dawn as they were meant to, instead of forcing the magic to revert early.’
‘That would have left Genevieve’s body at the mercy of the sorcerer.’ There was a note of forced calm in his voice. ‘It would have been too much of a risk.’
‘Aye, but what if it has been too long since you bonded with her, what if the bond breaks?’ The words sounded harsh. ‘Her soul could wander, become lost - maybe even
fade
.’
fade
.’
‘
Genevieve
.’ Pain slid like brittle ice along the silken cord, snapping it and flinging me back ...
Genevieve
.’ Pain slid like brittle ice along the silken cord, snapping it and flinging me back ...
I came to, naked and alone, lying in the dried-up lake of blood, the scent of sour pears gagging in my throat. Like the first time, the noonday sun streamed through the high mullioned windows, cutting oblongs of light and shade into the stone floor. Ignoring the pain in my body I pushed up onto my hands and knees, then stood, straight and tall. The gold-brocade wedding dress lay torn and crumpled near the heavy oak doors, the plait of blue-white hair abandoned near it, and as I looked at where Sally had been butchered, the sunshine caught and flashed in my eyes. I walked over to where the sword lay discarded from the night before and stared down at it, my hands clenched into fists.
This time I wasn’t a child.
This time I wouldn’t run.
This time I would make him pay.
Then a hand, colder than my own, took hold of mine and slowly I turned to stare into the dark, cautious eyes of Cosette, the child-ghost.
‘This is no longer your time, Genevieve.’ Her voice was soft. ‘You must not stay here any more, it is too perilous.’ She tugged me, anxiety flitting across her face. ‘Come, they are both waiting for you, and there are the others ...’
Others?
I turned and followed Cosette as she led me back into the red-blackness ...
I came awake again with a start, pulse thundering in my ears; my eyes snapped open and I looked up into Malik’s face as he straddled me. His hands were pressed to the cold skin over my heart. I could see stars scattered like pieces of silver across the night sky above him, and the ground shifted sand-soft beneath me.
‘Genevieve—’ His voice was rough, as if he’d been calling for some time.
‘It was you that night.’ I licked my lips. My voice sounded thready, scared. ‘You bit me that night.’
‘Of course.’ A fine line creased between his brows. ‘Who did you think it was?’
‘Him. I always thought it was him ...’
‘He would not chase you down himself, not when he had me as his tool.’
Fear exploded into anger. I clenched my fists. ‘You bastard! You left me for dead!’
An odd expression crossed his face. ‘I did not leave you for dead.’
‘Bullshit.’
‘I killed you. As I did tonight. Your heart was still, your blood had settled in your body, your lungs no longer drew breath and your skin was cold and lifeless to the touch. If you had not been sidhe, I doubt you would have revived.’
I stared at him, my mind reaching for something I couldn’t quite grasp—
‘I don’t understand.’
His frown deepened. ‘Would you have preferred me to have given you back to the Autarch alive?’
No!
my fourteen-year-old voice screamed in my mind.
my fourteen-year-old voice screamed in my mind.
He touched a hand to my forehead. ‘Sleep now.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I
awakened for the third time to the quiet burble of water, the scent of clean air, and silk sheets caressing my skin. I huddled tense and wary, listening, but a feeling of calm enveloped me, finally convincing me that I was on my own, and safe - even if I wasn’t entirely sure where I was.
awakened for the third time to the quiet burble of water, the scent of clean air, and silk sheets caressing my skin. I huddled tense and wary, listening, but a feeling of calm enveloped me, finally convincing me that I was on my own, and safe - even if I wasn’t entirely sure where I was.
I squinted out from under my lashes. Everything in the room was round: the bed on which I was lying, and the dais beneath it; the skylight in the domed ceiling that framed the stars piercing the night sky; the porthole windows, behind which darted shoals of tiny fish in neon-bright blues and oranges and yellows. Even the pillows on the bed, the huge vault-style door, and the dive hole set in the thick green-glass floor leading down into the water were round. If I didn’t know better I’d have guessed I was on some sort of movie set instead of Tavish’s bedroom.
The calm feelings persisted, dampening down my surprise at being here, and a vague notion made me
look.
A barely discernible net of cool green magic covered the walls and ceiling, shifting softly as if pulled by a peaceful sea. I wondered if it was some sort of Containment spell, but when I reached down to where it gathered by the bed it rippled away, then reformed as I removed my hand. Some sort of Wellbeing or Tranquillity spell, or even a Healing spell, maybe?
look.
A barely discernible net of cool green magic covered the walls and ceiling, shifting softly as if pulled by a peaceful sea. I wondered if it was some sort of Containment spell, but when I reached down to where it gathered by the bed it rippled away, then reformed as I removed my hand. Some sort of Wellbeing or Tranquillity spell, or even a Healing spell, maybe?
Just what I needed after being skewered with a five-foot-long bronze sword.
Still, the sword-in-the-chest incident might have been an abrupt ending to our dramatic fealty performance, but one thing was clear: even in the haze of imp-engendered bloodlust I - or rather, Rosa - had given Malik my oath. And that effectively shut the door on any vamp in London - or anywhere else - contacting me. Relief overwhelmed me. No more invitations, no more worrying about paranoid witches demanding I be evicted, no more visits from poor stoked-up Moth-girls. Now they’d have to go through Malik - although hopefully not as literally as Elizabetta had tried to do - and all I needed to worry about now was the pretty vampire himself.
I shivered; did that mean my life was better or worse?
The thought brought on the unwanted image of my torn wedding dress; nausea roiled in my stomach and I jerked up, clamping my hands against my mouth to keep from vomiting.
The past was gone.
It had been a nightmare, nothing more; my mind had equated one trauma involving a sword with another and coupled it with Elizabetta’s talk about the Autarch. That’s all it was, nothing more. Malik wasn’t Bastien, the monster, and I wasn’t marrying him - I wasn’t doing anything with him. And Malik had had more than one opportunity to do me harm, and he hadn’t taken it ...
The past was gone.
It had been a nightmare, nothing more; my mind had equated one trauma involving a sword with another and coupled it with Elizabetta’s talk about the Autarch. That’s all it was, nothing more. Malik wasn’t Bastien, the monster, and I wasn’t marrying him - I wasn’t doing anything with him. And Malik had had more than one opportunity to do me harm, and he hadn’t taken it ...
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