Adelade

I sat with Lula, gripping her hand as she faced the room, trying to determine if Agosto’s killer was in the room. Treveti was here tonight, and Lula couldn’t stand the way he stared at her, so I sat next to her to give her comfort.

I watched Lula in fascination as she easily conversed with Tasha, although I knew by the tension pressed on my hand that she was nervous. By the look on her face, you’d believe that she was conversing with a peer at a tea party at the mayor’s mansion.

Standing at the back wall, Treveti watched her. His eyes roamed her body as she moved unconsciously under his constant stare. Rowan entered the room and Treveti straightened, and then his eyes fell on me. I glanced away quickly, for I saw no reason for him to know that I’d been watching him, and the tick in his neck made me so uncomfortable as to think that there was something simmering beneath the surface. What it was, I was determined to discover.

Lily’s eyes were on me as well, although she shifted them away from me every time I turned towards her, for she refused to speak to me. I wondered if she was the one who’d managed to kill Agosto, although Treveti also seemed like a more likely candidate. Every time his eyes fell on me, I felt an evil come over me that I couldn’t shake.

The time waned on and I grew tired. Discouraged and understanding that I wouldn’t discover anything new tonight, I grew tired. The physical exhaustion of our training, combined with sitting in this room mixed with the strigoi and the living waned on my energy, so that by the time the events in the room were just beginning to become lively I stood up and, giving Lula my apologies that I couldn’t stay awake a moment longer, I retired for the night.

Walking down the hall towards my room, I turned to glance behind me and caught a glimpse of Lily, who was staring at me. The anger on her face made me believe that she was ready to pounce. Frightened and ignoring all decor, I ran to my room and slammed the door behind me, only to discover that my mother’s vanity had been removed.

I tripped over my feet in an effort to rush to the empty space, somehow believing that if I drew myself closer, it would reappear and I would sit upon it. But the empty space in the room was nowhere near the empty space in my heart. I threw myself on my bed in anger, frustration and sadness. Who had taken it and why? Of course, the obvious culprit was Lily, but I couldn’t understand why she would steal it.

My whole life I had lived in peace and happiness in my home, with a certain love and affection from my parents, and even though many in the town had avoided my gaze, I was still content in my own home.

Living here under the constant threat of danger to my physical body, as well as the strange gazes from the staff and now threatening looks from the strigoi, as well as my mother’s missing vanity, all crashed down over me. I threw off my dress and put my nightgown over me.

I was tempted to allow my tears to fall but refused to let them and instead, climbed into bed and forced my eyes to close in an attempt to fall asleep. Suddenly my door opened and Treveti entered.

I sat up quickly, pulling my stake from under my pillow. “What do you want?”

He didn’t answer but walked slowly around my bed.

I stood up on my mattress, unwilling to give him the advantage of catching me with my feet tied in my sheets.

As he watched me rise up to meet him, he laughed. “That will do you no good.”

I gripped my stake tightly. “What will do me no good?”

“Standing there like that. You’re no match for me.”

“And why would I find myself in a match with you?”

His eyes darkened as he continued to pace my room. “You see too much. You are like a cat waiting in the dark, watching and waiting for my every move.”

I followed him with my body, shuffling my feet as his footsteps traced the floor. “You must be mistaken. I see nothing, and only desire to please the Master of the house so that I may pay off the debt for my father.”

Treveti laughed. “Your father owes no debt. It is Detrand who owed your father.”

I furrowed my eyebrows. “You are mistaken.”

He didn’t answer my claim, but strode to the window and looked out.

Tired of being stalked, I stood up straight, making my back neutral as Landon had taught us. “You desire Lula.”

He grinned, and the red of his eyes glowed in the dark. “Only a weak man would say that having more than one woman was too much.” His eyebrows rose. “It only takes an understanding of knowing exactly how to please each woman to keep them happy.”

“Rowan will never let you have her.”

His smile became predatory. “That is where you are mistaken. I know things about Rowan, the secrets he hides from his master. He will allow me to have her.”

My mind churned. Rowan?

Suddenly, he turned towards me and began to stalk towards my bed. My knees shook and my hand tightened its grip on my stake. I repeated the movements Landon had taught me in my mind. Elbow high, step forward and allow my strength to flow from my legs into my arm. As soon as he made his move, I was ready to pounce.

He grinned as he reached the bed, and I saw that his fangs were extended. “The only question, is what Detrand will do if he discovers that I’ve drained your body of its life-giving gift.”

Suddenly Detrand was behind him. “Yes, tell me. What would Detrand do if he discovered that you had killed the girl?”

Treveti’s eyes opened wide in surprise and he turned in a blur and struck. Grabbing Treveti’s face, he twisted, severing his neck from the rest of his body, and the popping noise made a shiver go up my back. For a brief moment Treveti’s eyes found mine; they were cold and resentful. Then the life in them was gone and as he fell to the floor, I knew that if he awoke, he would kill me the instant he could.

I jumped off my bed, landed on top of him, and staked him in the heart.

Waiting for a moment to make sure that he had truly died the final death, I looked up to see that Treveti had managed to cut Detrand. Long lacerations lined his face, and his blood drained from them.

I dropped the stake dripping with Treveti’s blood and stood up. “You’re hurt.”

* * *

Suddenly Tasha was in the room, screaming and clutching her chest. Rowan was next, followed by Sophie, and then Lula. Tasha fell at my feet, clutching at the disintegrating pile of mush and sand, wailing. I stared at what was left of Treveti, he had deteriorated so quickly that I hadn’t noticed, distracted by the commotion of the room. My mouth dropped open. The magic of the strigoi was a wonder.

Detrand wiped at the blood on his face which was already beginning to heal. “Rowan, remove her and have someone take her to her house.”

Rowan nodded, even with Tasha screaming and scraping at the ground while he pulled her out. She flung sand through the air and the soft powder sprayed out, caking my nightgown. I coughed, feeling it in my chest, and a shiver ran through my body knowing that I’d breathed in the remains of the strigoi.

Detrand growled at the rest to leave. I moved to follow them, but he gripped my arm.

Trying to ignore the sensation of his hand on my arm, I turned to glare at him. “Your protection wasn’t necessary.” My sudden anger took me off guard and I pulled my arm out of his grip and stepped back.

He laughed and the sound of it surprised me. I couldn’t think of one time I even saw a trickle of a smile on his face, nor hear a sound of joy from his lips. I was tempted to smile at him in return, but was still angry.

“You laugh at me.” The words tore from my lips, showing my despondency.

His laugh turned into a grimace and he stepped towards me. “I laugh because you are so innocent to the beasts of this world. It would’ve only taken him one second to bury his teeth in your neck, and ten more seconds to suck you dry.”

I frowned. “And only two seconds to bury my stake in his heart.”

He took another step closer and I cringed because I knew that he could hear the way my heart sped up the closer he drew. He leaned over me, and even I could feel the heat that rose from my body. His mouth was at my ear and his breath tickled it, causing me to shudder.

“That would be one second too late.”

Determined to make my stand, I put my hands on his chest attempting to push him back. If he imagined that he could whisper in my ear and that I would drip like melted chocolate into his arms, then he was very mistaken.

Growling, he pushed me onto the bed and as I tumbled backwards, I put my hand out and swiveled to keep my balance. Pulling my feet up, I crouched with my stake held out, daring him to strike me.

His eyes went dark and he jumped onto the bed, his hand at my waist and my stake on the floor.

I tried to think of my defense, or why I was so angry, but the only thought that came to my mind was that he had called me a girl. Not a woman. Not Adelade. I was merely a child to him.

Would Detrand ever see me as a woman, instead of only the daughter of the only human he ever loved? Or perhaps a tasty morsel. Did he even know my name?

And then it was on his lips and the sound of it so sweet, so tempting, I wanted to hold his lips to my ear to hear it breathe through them once more.

“Adelade.” He repeated himself and then his hands were moving up my side to my arms and to my neck, splaying his fingers. “Adelade, you do not know the power that you hold.”

I was breathing heavily and were it not for his other arm around my back, I would surely have fallen to my bed. I tried to answer him. “I have no power, except the will to survive.”

His hand moved higher to my face, and he rubbed my cheek with this thumb as his fingers wrapped around the back of my hair. “You have a power so strong, even the most powerful of vampires cannot withstand it.”

I resisted the desire to close the distance between us and instead put my hand firmly on his, even as my mouth made a breathy noise. He gripped my hand and pulled me closer, then his other hand dropped to my bottom and he pulled me up. I wrapped my legs around him to keep from falling over, although he carried me easily.

He dropped to his knees, sending us bouncing on the bed. Staring into his darkened eyes, he lowered me softly, so that I rested against the wall. He leaned over me, so close that if I moved forward only a bit, his mouth would be on mine. He put his finger to my lips and traced it softly.

“You will meet me tomorrow, at your house.”

“My father’s house?”

He paused. “It’s your home now. Meet me there tomorrow as the sun sets.”

I nodded once, and then he was gone from the room, leaving it barren and hollow. I turned, staring at the empty doorway, then brought my hand up to my tingling lips and sighed.

* * *

The next day I was woken by one of the maids rustling through my clothing.

I cried out and jumped from my bed. “Those are my things!”

Two more maids entered my room and one of them went to me and began to pull my nightgown off. I clasped my hands to my chest to keep her from exposing me. “I’m wearing this right now.”

She clicked her teeth at me, and I noticed that she had a new nightgown in her hands. “You’re to wear this.”

I glanced at it, and my hand reached out to touch it. It was silky soft, like nothing I’d ever worn before. She was tugging at my nightgown again and this time I allowed it. Goose flesh spread over my body and I covered my breasts with my hand, trying not to notice the maid’s curious glance as she slipped the new one over me.

The other maids began to collect the pile of clothing that was now on my bed, and I pushed them aside. “These are my clothes, made by my mother’s hand. You cannot take them from me.”

One of the maids looked at me, pity showing in her eyes. “I’m sorry, the Master has commanded it.”

I huffed. “I don’t care if the heavens opened from above and an angel came down and commanded it, these are mine.”

She put her hand on my arm and gently pulled me to the side. “I cannot disobey his word.” I wondered at her willingness to follow Detrand with such blind obedience and I put my hand on her shoulder to stop her.

“Has he hit you?”

Her head jerked back, and the other staff began to laugh, even as they finished collecting my clothes and moved towards the door. She pulled away from me. “No, but I do not wish to tempt him.”

Her eyes were serious and so I let her go. They began to leave and I called out after them. “What am I to wear?”

The last one turned back to me and gestured towards the closet where a lone dress hung. “Lula has provided one of her dresses for you to borrow. You are to go to the dressmaker and have as many as you desire made for you.” Then she closed her eyes and turned away. “After tonight, you are also to begin to meet with them in the evenings, when they gather together.”

She turned away, leaving an ominous feeling in her wake, and it settled around the room. I stared after her in wonder, feeling the weight like a brick in my stomach. Was I to be given to someone then? To a strigoi?

I gripped my nightgown in my hands and yanked it over my head so forcefully that I tore it at the seam. My only relief was that Sophie had treated me with kindness, and would take care to protect me, even if Detrand treated me like a doll. I dressed in my one dress, which was admittedly very fine, and a sudden thought came to my mind that my hands stilled on the buttons. I grinned broadly. I would go to the dressmaker and order several items of clothing, to fulfill my every desire.

* * *

Striding down the street, I smirked, unable to keep a smile from my face. I’d done as instructed, and went to the dressmaker and ordered several items of clothing. The pants I’d obtained were so freeing, so lightweight, that I could spread my legs as far as possible without getting my legs tangled in folds of material. And then I laughed out loud, remembering the look on the dressmaker’s face when I told her exactly what I wished to buy. I’d sent them home, but couldn’t wait to unpack them for my training.

Holding the canvas bag filled with food that I’d managed to persuade the cook, Phyllis, to give me, I walked to the widow’s lane and handed out fruit and bread. Most of them smiled at me, their eyes dancing with cheer as they took the food from my hands. It was a joy to hand out fresh food, instead of the rotten food from the market.

I kept an eye out for the widow with the crooked tooth. My stomach rolled with anxiety with just the thought of being near her again. However, I hoped to find her so that I may ask her more about the strigoi who had her sister. I imagined I may know the answer to Detrand’s search, although to dare say the name of the being I believed responsible for imparting the final death on Agosto would cause such a stir, that they may kill me on the spot. I need to be certain before I dared say his name, even to myself.

Not finding her, I walked back through the town, disappointed. My thoughts tumbled through my mind and I took a shorter path through the back alley to shorten my walk home. A feeling of unease spread through me and I turned back towards the main street, unable to shake the feeling, when I heard the cry of a child. It was panicked and I belted towards the next row of back shops, determined to find the source of the cry.

As soon as I rounded the corner, I discovered three boys kneeling over a small child of about seven. The child held his piece of bread to his chest, even as the boys kicked at his stomach, crying for him to give up his morsel of food.

“Hey!” Without thinking, I ran towards them and, using the canvas bag that held a single apple, I swung it around and belted one of the boys in the head.

He swiveled towards me, a scowl on his face, and I realized with a sinking sensation that it was the same red-haired street rat who’d taken my father’s letter from me. “You!” I cried out in anger, and struck out at him again with the palm of my hand, using my new method of fighting. It stung his face and he put his hand to his nose where blood dripped.

He tasted the blood with his tongue first, and the realization that I’d caused him to bleed clouded his eyes, and they turned cold.

“You slut.” He slapped my cheek and I held my hand to it, my face stinging. The other two swiveled around to face me. “It’s the gal with the letter from her dear old pa.”

They laughed, and their leers made me furious. “At least I’ve got all my teeth, and have enough to eat that I’m not beating on a child just for a spot of bread.”

The ruffian who’d slapped me stared at me, then swallowing hard, he eyed his friends. “Aye, I’ve got food enough to eat twenty times a day.” The others nodded in agreement even though it was clear from their appearance that they lied easily.

“Then why do you beat this child?”

He stepped towards me, and the other two followed his direction so that they were all coming towards me. The child on the ground shoved the morsel of bread in his mouth and swallowed it on one bite.

I backed away, preparing myself to fight by holding out my bag, my only weapon. “Don’t come near me, or I’ll knock your head off.”

The laughter that came from them was harsh and it reminded me of a donkey’s bray. Tears threatened to spill from my eyes and I wiped at them angrily. Why must I cry every time I was angry?

“Oh, is the baby going to cry? Just like her cowardly pa before he died.” The ruffian’s sneer rang through my ears and something inside me snapped. I ran at them, swinging my bag and I managed to belt him in the face with it before I jumped on him.

Caught by surprise, he fell back and we landed on the street. My breath left me and I struggled to breathe, even as my hands flew at him of their own accord. My arms pummeled his face and words rushed from my mouth, though I knew not what I said. And then I was on the ground as his friends managed to push me over. They began to kick me and I covered my head and curled up into a ball as their kicks grew harder.

Suddenly they stopped and I looked up to see the child held a knife towards them. They stared at him blankly, and one of them was holding his arm. I could see blood dripping through his fingers.

“Get off her, hey. Or I’ll cut your face off.”

Grabbing the red-haired boy’s feet, I pulled him to the street and climbed on top of him. I hit him with my fists, and then, as the anger drained from my body into my blows, I reverted to scratching and clawing at him. He cried out, trying to protect himself, and I could see that the other boys had run off, leaving their friend behind. My new friend jumped on the boy and we roughed up the boy until I knew that he’d had enough.

Breathing heavily, I pulled the child off of the ruffian, though it took some effort. “Enough.”

The red-haired ruffian sat up and stared at me. His cheeks were wet and he wiped at them. Feeling a softness overcome me, I stifled it back knowing full well that he got what he deserved, but reached into my bag anyway. The apple was broken into pieces now but I held out the biggest one.

He stared at it, not saying anything. I pushed it towards him again and suddenly he grabbed it from me and shoved it into his mouth. Then he jumped up and ran off, and my new friend and I stared at him as he scurried away.

I looked back at the child. “What’s your name?” His face was ruddy from the fight and he desperately needed a bath, but his blue eyes twinkled at me.

“Bastin.”

I held out my hand and he shook it eagerly. “Mine’s Adelade.” I looked him over. “You still hungry?”

I could see the way his hands shook as he clasped them to his chest. He didn’t answer me but stared at the remaining apple pieces in my bag. I held them towards him and he grabbed them eagerly. I rose, and, noting that the sun would soon set and I would need to clean up before I met Detrand at my home, I helped him to his feet. “Come with me, Bastin. There’s more where that came from.”

* * *

Detrand was waiting for me when I arrived, a look of consternation on his face. As soon as I reached him, he held his hand to my face. “What’s this?” His voice was gruff, with an undertone of fury.

I touched my cheek. It was tender, but it was nothing compared to the ache in my stomach. “It’s nothing.”

He growled, and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. “Tell me.”

“Just some hooligans from the streets.” His look beckoned me to tell him more, but I was afraid that he would kill the boys, who merely needed a good lesson in manners. “Sometimes the emptiness of their bellies makes rascals of the boys of the street.” I tucked my hair behind my ear, trying to ignore the pain in my stomach. “No matter, it has been taken care of.”

Detrand grunted and looked away briefly, but I still caught the look of anger on his face. Then he reached for me stiffly. I took his hand and he tucked it under his arm. Then he ran his hand through his hair and for a moment, the notion that he was nervous ran through my head, but I immediately pushed away the thought. A strigoi such as Detrand would never have reason to be apprehensive about one such as I.

He opened the door and I entered. In many aspects, my house looked the same: it held the same curtains, the same oven and even the same pictures on the wall. Yet, it was not my home. All the furniture was new and it smelled of dust and glue. Gone was the smell of my father, and any lingering trace of my mother. A tear sparked in my eye but I wiped it away hastily.

Detrand strode in front of me to look at the front room and grunted. “Do you like it?”

I looked around, attempting to see it with fresh eyes. The furniture was carved delicately by the finest wood smiths.

“It’s beautiful.”

He growled. “You don’t like it.”

I went to the couch and sat down. It was so comfortable, I could easily sleep on it. “It’s different, but I am grateful for the gifts.”

He kneeled before me, pushing his hands through his hair again, and cleared his throat. I marveled at his actions.

“This was your father’s home.”

My face darkened at the mention of my father, and I thought of the last time he and I sat in this very room, his anguish at sending me to Detrand’s. I moved my head to look out into the darkness beyond the window. “It was.”

He took my hand now, and my heart beat wildly in my chest as an electrifying sensation traveled up it.

“I was angry when he died, leaving you at my doorstep, and I… My passion overcame me.”

Pain stabbed my chest. “I understand that having me in your home may be a burden and I am looking for an opportunity to relieve you of the responsibility.”

Frowning, he took my chin, forcing me to look him in the eyes. “You are not to leave my home. Do you understand?”

My eyebrows furrowed. “If I stay, I will only burden you further, and it is my greatest desire to pay my father’s debts and leave you in peace.” The spark of anger that I’d held in my stomach since I discovered my house torn to pieces began to spread up into my chest. I found it hard to breathe, and my fists gripped the folds of my dress tightly.

His eyes widened, but he looked away quickly. “I was angry for other purposes that are none of your concern.”

“You were angry?” I laughed. “I lost everything that day, my father, my home.” I looked around me, gesturing towards the room. “Every sentimental thing was gone in a moment.” The tears now couldn’t be held back. Angry that I was choosing to erupt in tears instead of confronting the very being who changed everything for me, I turned my face away. “You may not have taken my father from me, but you took everything of my parents. I have almost nothing to remember them by, all because you couldn’t bear to have me in your home.”

I turned towards him because I’d managed to halt my tears and I wanted him to see the anger that flashed in my eyes, to understand that he had taken everything from me.

He looked up at me, startled and then he choked out his reply. “I will not excuse my behavior, even though I meant to make it up to you.” He gestured at the room and when I didn’t respond, he sighed, and it was the very shaking of my foundation. The king of the city, the mightiest of all strigoi, sighing at my knees. His response shook me to the core of my very being and the shock of it stilled me so that I couldn’t move, or even take a breath.

“And even as I knew your father, I hope that he would’ve forgiven me if he could, even as I beg for your forgiveness.”

“How can you ask for my forgiveness? You hold all power over me, I am but clay in your hands, to do as you wish. To live or to die, it is your choice.”

“And yet, your mother, whose very breath existed because I exist, forgave me. Can you not forgive me also?”

I swallowed hard. My anger still burned in my stomach, and it threatened to rise and choke off my air. “If you knew my mother so well, why did I never see you? Where were you all those years, and how did you know my parents?”

“I moved back to Italy, and wasn’t even aware of your father’s suffering here.” He looked into my eyes. “Or even of your birth.”

“And my mother? What hold did you have over her?” I was desperate for information. “She cried out for you in the night. Did you know? Could you hear her?”

His mood darkened, and he turned away, angry. He stood up and made to leave, his face full of emotion. When he turned to me, his eyes were dark. “I never wish to see you leave my home, you understand?”

I stared at him in awe, marveling at the contradiction of his behavior. Did he wish me by his side, or not? He bent over me now, and I trembled beneath his gaze, suddenly afraid that he would bite me. Then his hand was on my cheek, like the caress of a whisper, and he was gone.