Chapter Seventeen
This vampire was seeing much of the porcelain god. Lots of time hugging the toilet.
I hid and cried and hid some more. I avoided all contact with everyone. Nial tried to hunt me down several times in the next few hours, but there was no finding me. Mostly because I hid outside the stronghold after barfing for thirty minutes, slinking down the side of the mountain as the day wore on. I wanted the cold to strip me of all feelings, take the flesh off my bones.
Anything not to feel.
I snuck in a few times to see if I could find a bottle of liquor strong enough to do anything to me—but would leave empty handed, instead. I could have gotten shitfaced, but then that would only diminish the act I had to do. I had to honor Adelie in some way.
I finally allowed Lord Otto’s second to find me early the next afternoon. I was sitting just outside the rock door at the very top of the mountain, holding my mind silent. Even hunting didn’t help me. I finally just tried to shut my mind off.
“Candidate, everyone has been looking for you. Lord Otto has told me not to come back until I found you. He instructed me to tell you that dinner is ready, and once I found you, to fetch your—”
“Stop. Fetch whomever you have to. I will be at the table in twenty minutes.”
He bowed and disappeared back through the door.
Pausing just long enough to make sure my legs would actually carry me, I descended into the stronghold. I hefted the sword I’d kept on my lap, eventually letting it fall to the side, held lightly in my hand.
I took exactly twenty minutes to reach the door where I knew the Overlords took their meals and tried again to turn off my brain. It was a futile gesture.
I couldn’t open the door, my hand hovering over the doorknob.
I could smell the meal they had laid out inside. It was succulent, and I was sure that Lord Pippin had gone out of his way to create something completely and amazingly mouthwatering. I didn’t want to know what was on that table, but it was easy to tell he had cooked pheasant and wild rice. Neither of which I would ever have again—this moment scarred into my brain.
The door still didn’t open by my hand.
Voices floated, buzzing in and out.
I could hear the easy conversation between Nial and—
I pulled up short, my fingers now digging into the doorknob. He was speaking to her.
I hated Nial even more in that moment. I didn’t think that was even possible, but I did. I ratcheted up to loathing, and made a note to extract my anger from his hide at some point in the near future. Even if this wasn’t his fault, I’d take it out on him.
He could handle it.
I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath.
Quick. I promised Lord Belshazzar quick.
I owed it to all three of us.
I pushed the door open and stepped into the room. The sounds and smells overwhelmed me for a moment. Just for a heartbeat, I almost turned and ran and became rogue. Just one heartbeat.
“Nice of you to finally show up,” Nial said.
“I told you Lord Otto’s man would find her,” she said with a grin. “Come on, Gwen. The food is going to get cold.”
Everything felt as if I were underwater. Doubt and confusion swirled around me, tripping me. I caught myself, slamming the door and circling the table as if to take the seat next to her.
The Overlords watched me keenly, and their two witnesses, Felicia, a general of the warrior forces, and Melchior, the chief strategist—both clearly confused as to why they were there.
Nial peered at me, and it was almost as if he could see what was in my heart and mind.
His eyes cracked yellow for just a flash of a moment.
Speak her name. One last time.
I opened my mouth, and choked, “Adelie, this is what we wanted. I love you always. Please forgive me.”
My blow…was swift and sure.
Adelie didn’t even have a chance to turn and look at me before my sword cleaved her head from her shoulders. It was a stroke I’d learned years ago, to make sure that death was instant, none of that lingering bullshit. The head of full, beautiful red hair, curly and styled, dropped forward and landed in her own lap. The blood flowed from her neck, covering her favorite shirt with horrid crimson. I couldn’t see her face as the life flowed out of her, soaking the hair.
I held my stance for entirely too long, watching the last of my friend drip to the floor.
Blood is life.
Blood was also death.
I stabbed the sword into the table and finally broke my numb stare, pinning each Overlord with a red glare that I wished could pierce their flesh.
I hissed, “The hate I feel for you will come down on all of your heads. Sit here, stare at what I would do for the law of these people. And when death finally comes for you, I hope it takes you all to hell to burn.”
I marched out. I slammed the door.
I ran.