Chapter Eighteen

ELEIRA

I trail after Raul, holding April’s hand.

He’s led us out of The Catacombs and back above ground. It’s still night. It’s still dark.

That makes me uneasy. It feels as if we’re trapped in time.

But I’ve already come to terms that nothing about this place is natural. If I’m going to escape, I have to put aside any preconceived notions about what is and what isn’t possible, about what is and what isn’t real.

Because, very clearly, my understanding of the world is severely lacking if creatures like the one walking in front of me exist.

“The rest of us — the rest of the humans — are going to be coming back soon,” April whispers in my ear. “They lead their lives above ground, in the village.” She casts a look at the empty buildings and huts around us. “During The Hunt, they go to the caves for safety. After, they all return to their lives.”

I nod slowly, starting to understand at least a bit of how The Haven works.

“You call them ‘they,’” I say. “Not ‘us,’ Why?”

“Because I’m from the Out —” she stops. “The Out —” She frowns, as if she can’t get the word out. “I’m from —”

“It’s okay,” I tell her. I squeeze her hand. “I understand.”

She frowns. “Do you? Because I don’t.”

I’m not sure if she’s sincere or not. That, in and of itself, is quite frightening.

How do you brainwash someone to stop them from being able to acknowledge their past?

Raul stops in front of a massive redwood. He runs a hand over the trunk. Two pieces peel away as if by magic, and the steel doors of an elevator reveal themselves to us.

“We’re going up,” he says. “You need to leave her here.”

“What?” I look at April. “You promised —”

My words die in my throat when I see April’s face. Her expression has gone slack again. That eerie vacancy is right back in her eyes.

She stares at the tree trunk without seeing.

Raul emits an annoyed grunt. He turns and passes a hand up and down over April’s eyes.

She remains unreactive.

“She’s bewitched,” he explains. “She can’t see the same thing you and I can.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“All the villagers are like that,” Raul says. “You can thank the Queen for that. Any mention of life outside of what they’re allowed to know, any hint that there’s something more going on beyond their walls… and they turn into that.”

“Zombies,” I breathe, aghast and disgusted and saddened and repelled.

“No,” Raul shakes his head. “She’ll snap out of it when the elevator doors are hidden. A real zombie is the creature who attacked you.”

I shudder at that memory. “Who was he?”

“A vampire who broke the law,” Raul says. His lips curl up, and he flashes me a peculiar smile. “You see? I can explain things to you as well. Even better than your appointed guide. Now come on.” He jerks his hand to the elevator. “We need to go.”

“But April —”

“Will be perfectly safe here. See that?” he points toward a nearby hut. “It’s her home.” He points at another one. “So is that one. And that one. She’s welcome, she’s safe, anywhere. But the same cannot be said about you. So let’s go, before more of the humans discover you’re here.”

His tone leaves no room for argument. I try to give April a tug but she remains unmoving.

“You’re wasting your time,” Raul says from inside the elevator.

I sigh and let April go. I walk into the elevator, of my own free will—with a vampire.

The thought is staggering.

The doors close, and we reach the top. I go to the railing to check for April.

She’s already gone.

I turn on Raul. “Why would it matter if the other humans know I’m here?” I ask.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He steps toward me and reaches up to brush my neck.

I draw a short breath. He’s so close. My heart starts thundering.

He drops his voice. He doesn’t look me in the eyes, instead focusing on that spot where I found the strange mark. “You’ve been bitten,” he says. “And you’re still alive.” A smile forms on his lips. The proximity of his body makes all sorts of inappropriate images flash through my mind. Inappropriate because of who he is, and who I am, and what our relationship is to one another.

What would it feel like to have his lips on mine?

Whoa! Where did that thought come from?

“They’d hate you,” he continues softly, glazing his fingers over my neck, while I stand there, struck dumb and unable to move. “For the same reason that I would adore you. You’re in the process… of being turned.”

Then, just as suddenly, he steps away. The gulf of space between us makes me sway on unsteady feet.

“But you’re not there yet,” he tells me. “And you won’t be there for a long time. Now come. I want to show you the room you can expect to be yours should you prove willing to accept your fate.”

***

My mind grapples with the new information I’ve been given.

“I’m being turned?” I say. The words feel so ludicrous to say out loud. “Why? How? I mean—vampires aren’t real,” I swallow. “Right?”

I shake my head. I’m alone in the enormous room Raul brought me to. There’s a circular bed in the middle of the room. Beautiful, silken blue sheets adorn it. There’s a glass door leading to a balcony from where I can see the whole village beneath me. But, the weird thing is, when Raul and April and I walked through the streets below, and I looked up, I could not see the balcony. All I saw were the thick branches and stars.

And if that’s not enough for me to question my sanity, I’m now talking to myself in the mirror.

I brush my hair back and look at my neck. There’s nothing there anymore. I run my hands along the smooth skin. Nothing at all to give evidence to the bump I woke up with, or the two small bite marks.

I wander to the bed and sit down. The mattress is firm. Everything about this particular room is the epitome of luxury.

Why would they bring me to a cell beneath the earth and then put me up in something like this? Is it just to mess with my mind?

Whatever the goal is — it’s working. I’ve never felt more confused or off-balance than I do now. And to top it off, I have to deal with my budding attraction to one very handsome, very dangerous, flame-haired man.

Flame-haired vampire?

I try to think of all I know about the supernatural and mythical. But my knowledge is woefully lacking. After the experience in the woods with Michael, it’s like my mind shut off from anything that could not be explained scientifically. I became drawn to concrete subjects in school — math and history and the hard sciences. That’s how I ended up skipping a year ahead and being one year younger than all my peers at university. It’s why I was the only seventeen-year-old to matriculate at my class at Stanford.

It’s why I’m probably the worst-prepared person in the world to deal with what I’m seeing around me now.

The door to my room opens. I look up.

A beautiful woman flows in. She’s adorned in a stunning white gown that hugs her figure and emphasizes every feminine curve. She can’t be more than a few years older than me, but the way she carries herself makes me feel immediately self-conscious.

I start to stand. She flutters a hand at me. “Please, don’t trouble yourself.”

Even her voice is beautiful.

I sit back down, my spine rigid. “Who are you?” I ask.

She smiles. “My name is Morgan,” she tells me. She waits for my reaction. When I give none, she winks. “And you must be Eleira. It’s wonderful to finally meet you.”

She glides across the room and gently lowers herself onto a free seat.

I shift uncomfortably. She’s completely at home here, whereas I am still as jumpy as a cat stranded on a raft in a pond.

She has dark eyes that shine with intelligence. “I hope you’ve enjoyed your stay so far,” she tells me. “Every effort has been made to accommodate your arrival.”

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” I ask. “Raul says —”

“Oh, so you’ve met my son.”

I gawk at her. “Your son?” I shake my head. “That’s — that’s not possible.”

She laughs lightly. Her voice is like chiming bells. “I’ll take that as a compliment of my youth,” she tells me. She catches her reflection in the mirror and smiles her perfect smile. “Raul is my son. One of three boys. I believe you’ve met the others… no?” She frowns. “Maybe not yet. You will, soon enough. I’ll make sure you’re all acquainted. After all, we have a wedding to plan.”

“Excuse me?” None of this is making any sense. “A wedding? Whose?”

“Yours, of course, sweet girl. Do you think just anybody can wander into The Haven from the outside world?” She shakes her head. “No, no. You are privileged, my dear. Because of the circumstances of your birth, you’ve been granted nearly unprecedented power… and influence… over all our lives.” She smiles again. “I know you’re confused, but everything will make sense before long.”

She stands and walks toward me. She stops in front of me and cups my face in her hands. “My, but you are a beauty, aren’t you?” she asks. “We’ll have to do something about that awful outfit, though. Oh, I know.” She snaps her fingers, and the doors of the wardrobe fly open. “You’ll find everything to your heart’s desire in there. Next time I see you, I expect you to be dressed as one befitting your position.”

And then, without another word, she simply gets up and leaves the room.

My shock only lasts a moment. I run to the doors after her and rattle the handles.

Just as before, they’re locked.

I grunt. Wedding? I think. What on earth is she talking about, I’m not getting married.

It seems like every conversation I have reveals more to me but lends confusion rather than clarity.

I turn my attention to the wardrobe. How did she open it like that?

The fabrics inside catch my eye. There are an assortment of dresses hanging there.

All of them look just as extravagant as hers.

I walk over and run a hand over them. Despite myself, I get goosebumps. I’ve never imagined feeling anything this expensive against my skin.

Is this really right? I wonder. Only an hour ago I saw somebody get killed. And now I’m entertaining the notion of putting on clothes picked out for me?

All this is totally insane.

But there’s nothing to be done about it. I pick out a light blue dress and hold it up before me in front of a mirror. I stroke the material. It’s wonderfully soft and looks to be exactly my size.

No, I shake my head. This is ridiculous. I’m not going to put their clothes on. No way, no how.

Yet after half an hour, my resolve fades. I’m cooped up in these chambers with nothing else to do.

I sigh and strip out of the clothes linking me to my previous life. No sooner do I have the first dress on than a soft tapping comes from the door.

I spin around. The door creeps open, and a meek-looking serving girl comes in.

“I was asked to see if you require anything,” she says. Her eyes are downcast and her voice is barely above a whisper. “If you’re hungry, I can—”

“Yes!” I say. The girl flinches. Is she scared of me? “I mean, yes, please, that would be wonderful.” The last meal I had scarcely made a dent in my hunger.

She bows and starts out the room.

“Hold on,” I say. “What’s your name?”

She gives a little gasp of surprise. “I’m…” she begins. My ears perk up.

“…Unable to tell you,” she finished lamely.

I narrow my eyes. “Why?”

“I’m sorry,” she says. “The less we speak, the better it is. For me. You understand?”

Not really, I want to say. Instead, I exhale. “Of course.”

She draws back. Just before she leaves, she adds, very softly, “You have stunning eyes, Princess.”

Princess?