– Nyx –
“Thank the gods Araminta hooked us up with a blueprint,” Keria said in a hushed tone as we made our way along the hall. She wasn’t wrong.
The castle was the real deal, stone walls throughout. I can’t even begin to imagine the planning that went into this place. I mean, it’s wired for electricity and plumbing. I assume they even have fucking wifi, though it’s gotta be a bitch to keep the signal strong through these walls.
And sure, it’s fortified as fuck, but good luck redecorating.
My point is, it’s an architectural marvel, when you think about it. No matter, I’d blow the whole thing up given the chance.
We were making our way along the outermost southern hall, toward Zillah’s quarters on the western wall. I was in the lead. Obviously. Keria was on my heels, because of course she was.
She’s such a good girl. But don’t tell her I said so. I gotta keep that one on her toes.
When we arrived at the door to Zillah’s quarters, she asked, “Do we just pick the lock?”
Even knowing everyone in the castle was most likely tripping over their own dicks to win Valentine’s favor, I wasn’t crazy about hanging out in the hall. I would have been okay with breaking the door down if we had to. But discretion was the smarter play.
“Yeah, yeah,” I whispered. “We know there won’t be cameras, and we need to get out of sight.”
Keria’s an accomplished picklock. She had her tools out in a flash, making quick work of the substantial door’s exterior deadbolt. We slipped inside, and, holy fuck, were we in for a surprise.
If I’d had to guess, I would have said Zillah’s style was most likely minimalistic. I half expected to find a large, mostly barren room with sparse decorations and pragmatic furniture.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
The room was lavish, decorated like a gothic version of a suite in Versailles. The space was laid out like a luxurious studio apartment. There was a study in one corner, complete with a large desk, beautiful shelves full of books, and a plush reading chair. The opposite corner led to what appeared to be the bathroom. Even from the doorway, I could see marble tilework and a massive clawfoot tub. There was a thick, dark-stained table in the third corner, flanked by substantial chairs. It looked like the space could be used for a meal as easily as a strategic planning session.
And the bed. Fuck me.
It sat opposite the door—an enormous, four-poster temple of a bed with sharp archways along each side and, I swear to God, steeples at each corner. The average Hot Topic teen would probably cum on the spot if they got a glimpse of this place. It was impressive.
The final corner of the room was the blood doll’s “cage.”
It was fully enclosed and big. Like, bigger than a 5-star hotel suite, judging by how much space it took up. The door leading into it was actually two doors—one, an elaborately decorated metal door composed of bars and ironwork filigree. The other was solid, presumably to give Zillah privacy when she wanted it.
The solid door stood open.
From what we could see across the room, the blood doll’s space looked just as lavish and comfortable as Zillah’s suite. When the door to Zillah’s quarters clicked into place, a voice called out from the cage.
“Are you back, my goddess? Thirsty again so soon?”
Keria looked at me in disgusted shock. I rolled my eyes. Even knowing what this—I’ll be generous—“person” willingly allowed, it was weird to hear the chipper trill in his voice as he prepared to make his blood available to a vamp.
I started walking toward the cage door. Keria followed.
“I haven’t had much time to recover,” he continued. “I respectfully request that you restrain so that tomorrow night’s meal can be as satisfactory as you deserv—”
He walked into view mid-sentence. His breath caught the very second he saw us.
“Who the fuck are you?” he asked. All the excited yearning in his voice was gone.
“Not Zillah,” I said.
Keria smirked. “Not even a little,” she added.
The blood doll glared at us. The little fucker glared.
Okay, “little” may not be the right word. He was lean, verifiable by the fact that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. He had on leather pants, a long, flowing silk robe, open in the front, and black boots. Hardly what anyone would consider loungewear, assuming you don’t live in a My Chemical Romance video.
He was tall with dark hair, stylistically tussled.
“I noticed,” he said, deadpan. “You must be Araminta’s hunters.”
It was our turn to glare.
“We do not belong to that vamp,” Keria said. Fuck, she’s hot when she’s riled up.
“Jesus Christ,” he said. “The hunters working with Araminta. If you get that upset over semantics, you’re in way over your heads. I told Araminta this job was too big for a couple of locals.”
I could sense Keria getting angry beside me. I spoke before she had a chance to lay into him.
“You’re going to want to cool it with the attitude, slick. We know what we’re doing. As it turns out, you’re the one getting played. If you wanna live through the night, you’re going to need to stop slinging attitude and find a little humility.”
He huffed a dismissive breath and rolled his eyes.
“She’s serious,” Keria said. “The original plan is fucked. And so are you—without us, that is.”
He gave us a lazy sigh. “Okay, fine. Tell me what you imagine the problem to be.”
“Zillah is on to Araminta,” I said.
He feigned surprise before saying, “Oh no,” with absolutely no inflection.
“That means she’s on to you, too, dumbass,” Keria clarified.
He shook his head in annoyance. “You seriously underestimate me. Zillah’s not going to lend credibility to a couple of hunters instead of listening to the blood doll she’s kept for the last two years. If you or Araminta make accusations, I’ll just deny them. Not that you’ll have a chance to plead your case. You’ll be dead the moment she finds you.”
I stepped toward the cage door. “She knows we’re here,” I said. “And she knows about the mini-bombs you planted on her boots.”
He stiffened. “What?”
Keria moved to my side. “She’s been letting things play out. She plans to swoop in and stop us at the last second, saving Valentine to win his favor. She’s not going to let on that she knew anything about Araminta’s plot or your betrayal.” She paused for effect before delivering the final verbal blow. “You won’t have a chance to plead your case. You’re a loose end. She’ll deal with you and move on.”
What little color he had drained from his face.
“Yeah,” I said. “You’re fucked. Wanna start this conversation over? We’re pretty much the only chance you have of living through the night.”
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