Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Melody considers me for a few moments longer, then seems to make a decision as she gives a resolute sigh. “Valen won’t appreciate this, but I don’t think it will hurt. Maybe you could see him in another light if …” Her sentiment fades away when she sees the look on my face.
“You can’t redeem him to me. No matter what you say.” I mean it. I’ve made a promise to never do harm to anyone, but Valen isn’t a person. He’s proven that to me time and again. If I could end him, I certainly would, because in a twisted way, it would save lives. More humans would escape Gregor’s purge if the Specter was gone. That’s upholding my oath.
“I suppose that’s fair enough.” She shrugs and walks over to the statue, ducking a little to avoid a tree branch. “Her name was Sylvana.”
“She’s beautiful.” I follow her beneath the tree and study the statue again, the soulful eyes and longing expression.
“Very. Her beauty was legendary in her town. It’s how she drew Gregor’s eye.”
That took a turn. I swallow hard.
“A human woman from a small village in Eastern Europe. She was young, perhaps barely twenty, when Gregor took her.”
My jaw tenses, and I tuck my hands in my pockets. The reticence in her voice tells a story beneath the words. One that makes my insides churn. I don’t have to use my imagination to understand what she means by ‘took’ and the suffering it entails.
“She barely survived it.” She looks away. “And when she returned to her village, she was pregnant. No doubt when she stumbled into her home, bloody and broken, she thought she was saved, that she’d endured the worst. But instead of protecting her, the people she trusted the most turned on her. The humans forced her from the town, her own parents turning their backs. Cursed and scorned, she fought for her life and that of her unborn child. But there was no kindness for her, not when she bore the marks—” her gaze flicks to my wrists, to the scars from Whitbine’s bites. “She was accused of witchcraft and of being the devil’s whore. They thought she’d bring the wrath of god down on them if she stayed. Their fear needlessly magnified her suffering. The villagers swore they’d burn her on a cross if she ever returned.”
“What the fuck? She was a victim.”
Melody shakes her head. “Superstition was just as strong then as now. No one would help her. Humans would rather she die than bring the devil’s child into the world. Some of her own people, those who’d watched her grow, had shared meals with her—they tried to kill her. She ran for her life and found an abandoned homestead in the woods, using her wits to keep her alive. Hunting, stealing what she could, and trading her body.”
“God.” I shiver.
“He didn’t help her either.” Melody steps back from the statue, a reverence in her eyes. “In spite of all of it, she lived. She bore the child, screaming and alone in a moldy hut. And when she saw him, she loved him. She didn’t want to, had already decided to leave him for the wolves, but a mother’s love is something beyond anyone’s real understanding. She kept the child, sacrificing what life she could’ve had for him.”
“Valen.” I look at the statue with new eyes.
“He never knew her, of course. This is drawn more from imagination than actual memory.” She dips her head to the statue in a small bow and turns back to me.
“What happened to her?”
“That’s enough for tonight.” She shakes her head and gestures toward the elevator doors. “I have much work to do.”
I reluctantly follow her. “Work for the ball?”
“Yes.”
“When is it?” I try to sound disinterested.
“Two nights away.”
“Oh.” A jolt of excitement courses through me. That night, when the vampires will be busy celebrating their massacres, they’ll be far too preoccupied to bother with me. It’s the perfect chance for me to escape. The main problem is that the corridor leading to the elevator is always locked, and my knife is a poor lockpick. I need something else, but I’ve yet to come up with anything clever.
“What’s the matter?” Melody asks as she pulls the lever and we descend. “Your heart rate jumped.”
“Oh, I, um. I don’t know,” I say lamely.
“Is it the ball?”
“Yes.” I grab her lifeline. “I didn’t realize it was so soon. That’s all. I don’t look forward to the castle brimming with vampir—” I turn to her. “Nothing against you, of course. It’s just—”
“You don’t have to explain.” She waves a hand at me. “You’ve seen the worst of my kind. I can’t blame you for your apprehension.”
“They aren’t like you.” I shrug. “I wish they were.”
She sighs. “Something like this should be planned months in advance, not on a whim. But Gregor is … He’s …” She can’t seem to find the right word. I would offer “demented” or “homicidal maniac” but neither of those even come close to encompassing the depth of his evil.