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)
“It’s the first time he’s visited the Dragonis manor since Theo was killed.” She opens the accordion grate, a somber look on her face.
“Is that a big deal or something, that he’s coming here?” I ask. Then another question I should’ve already thought of surfaces. “If this is the Dragonis Estate or Castle or whatever it is, why doesn’t Gregor live here?” I regret it as soon as I ask it. I want Gregor as far away from me as possible.
“This was Theo’s residence. A gift to him from his father.”
I suppose that explains the shitty golden décor in almost every overdone room. From what little I’ve learned, Theo was just as sadistic as his father and on top of it, treated like a spoiled little prince.
We walk back through the rooms, and though I’d like to linger in the one with all the weapons, Melody sets a quick pace. I don’t dare grab anything when she’s with me.
Once we reach the staircase, she bids me farewell and starts down and away from me. My mind is working with all sorts of different plans for how I can get that door open. I’ll have to sneak to it, so my only hope is that all the vampires are too busy partying on Piano Bay to bother with journeying to this lower level. It will take planning and skill and more than a little luck. Maybe I could find a lampshade with metal in the rim of it, something malleable I could fashion into a lockpick. Or there could be some other—
“Oh.” Melody pauses and turns to me, her heeled foot perched effortlessly on the corner of a step. I’d fall and break my neck if I even thought of trying it. She seems to be walking on air. “And don’t worry about your gown. I’ve already had something created for you.”
“My—” My voice cracks, and my skin goes cold. “My what?”
“Your gown. It’s almost finished. And if you’ll allow me, I’ll be with you to help you get ready.” She even smiles, like we’re discussing hair and makeup for prom.
“I-I’m going to the ball?” My mouth is dry. “I didn’t think I’d have to do that.”
Her perfect eyebrows draw together. “Of course. You’re Valen’s—” She stops herself, then begins again. “You’re his guest.” She turns and hurries down the stairs.
Prisoner. I’d bet money she was going to say I’m his prisoner, and now I’m about to be paraded around at a vampire ball like a show pony.
I clench my hands in my pockets, one of them wrapped around my knife. What if Gregor decides to flay me then and there? My breathing quickens, panic overcoming me as I stumble to the stairs. I sit down hard, my teeth clacking.
What am I going to do? My entire escape plan is shot. Unless… I take deep breaths. Unless I move up my escape attempt. It can’t wait. Not when Gregor is coming for me.
Today. It has to be today. When the sun is high and no one can come after me when I run. On shaky legs, I rise and return to my room.
Today is the day I escape or I die. Either way, I’m not going to sit here and wait for the decision to be made for me.
13
Recovered Journal of Dr. Georgia Clark
May 29, Year 1, Emergence Era
We’ve hit a wall. Both with the samples and with the usual processes we use to analyze blood. I’ve been thinking too conventionally. We all have. Today, I started a new course of research. My lab mates probably think I’m insane, but we can’t keep trying old methods on an entirely new species. I have a plan for the next sample. It’s desperate and dangerous, verging on idiotic. But it’s the only way I can see forward, no matter what it might cost me. Trailblazing science can’t be done carefully, not in this brave new world. If I don’t have skin in the game, then I shouldn’t be playing.
“How does this place have no wire hangers?” I’m in my closet, digging through the clothes for any hint of metal. Nothing. “Shit!”
I walk back into my bedroom and stare around for what has to be the tenth time in the last hour. Creating a lockpick is turning out to be far harder than kid detective novels made it seem. I have to think more broadly here, though I’ve already considered trying to rip wire from the walls or even asking Gorsky. That’s how desperate I’ve become.
When my breakfast arrives outside my door—Melody nowhere to be seen—I pull it in and snatch the fork from the tray. Testing the tines, I discover they aren’t the least bit bendable. I’d probably need to heat the metal somehow for it to be useful.
Still, I tuck it into my makeshift bag. It’s all I have.