Читать книгу In the Dark - Jen Colly - Страница 9

Chapter 4

Soren left the car at the edge of a dense forest, and led her to the entrance of a very narrow path hidden in the trees. He pushed through the thick foliage ahead of her, clearing a crude trail. They stepped over trees, some fallen, while the roots of others reached above the ground. This entrance must not be used often.

“I thought we weren’t going to walk,” she complained as she pushed another branch away from her face.

“It’s not a long walk,” Soren said, weaving around a sapling that almost reached his height. “You’re keeping up fine.”

“I know I can keep up, I’m just worried creepy things are lurking in the forest.” She copied him, dodging the tiny tree.

“There are no demons here, I promise you.”

“I meant spiders, but thank you. Now I can’t decide which is worse, eight legs or red eyes.” The hairs on her nape prickled as if something followed her, and she quickly closed the gap between them.

He laughed quietly at her sudden skittishness. “Like I said, there are no demons here.”

The trees thinned, and as the path ended, Soren stopped. Down a gradually sloping hill ahead of them lay an old chateau. This was not her idea of a vacation hot spot. The chateau had no aesthetic appeal. It was a fortress with high walls and narrow windows. A tall structure, its squared center rose higher than the rest of the block-like architecture.

“Wow, you live here?”

“I do,” he said with pride. “This is my home. This is Balinese.”

He took her hand, helping her to keep her balance. The descent was steep, and she wasn’t used to this kind of terrain, but his sure footing and confidence chased away any concern.

The ground leveled out, and Soren settled his hand across the small of her back, guiding her. It was for the best. She couldn’t stop staring at the chateau and wasn’t paying attention where she walked.

“Faith, my world is not like yours. Keep quiet and stay close,” Soren warned in a whisper.

She nodded, still lost in studying the large and looming chateau. Soren pulled her through the arched entry, the door deeply inset to shelter visitors from the weather.

He didn’t open the door, instead turned his face toward the dark corner to his right. “Steffen,” he said with a short nod.

A man came out of the shadows in a single step, his sad blue eyes peering through stray pieces of long, straight hair. “Shall I request an escort to lead her to the dungeons?” he asked, his fangs visible.

“No, she stays with me.” He pulled her closer to his side.

Steffen’s eyebrows shot upward, his curiosity clearly piqued.

“Is there something you want to say?” Soren challenged.

“No, sir, absolutely not,” Steffen said, but his gaze remained on her.

“Wise choice, but if you do not stop looking at the human, I’ll correct the problem for you,” Soren ground out, low and deadly.

Steffen immediately shifted his attention back to Soren.

His angry words made her shake involuntarily with a sudden chilling fear. This was real. There were two vampires next to her, and she could only guess how many more were inside. Despair grew inside her, icy and unsettling.

“I need a cross,” she mumbled, but after her words drew the questioning attention of both vampires, took a step back. At least, she stepped as far as Soren’s rather solid arm allowed.

“Steffen,” he said, holding his hand out to the other vampire, who drew a rosary from beneath his shirt, passed it quickly to him. Both men faced her, seeming truly concerned.

In his hand was the very same rosary that had lain around Steffen’s neck. She opened and closed her mouth several times before deciding on the question least likely to get her killed.

“Isn’t that supposed to hurt you?” she asked Steffen.

“Want to see the scar?” he answered in a bland, bored tone.

“Enough,” Soren warned.

Steffen snatched the rosary from him with a snort. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“But…but I thought vampires would, well…”

When she couldn’t finish her sentence, Soren supplied the answer. “It’s a myth, the same as holy water and garlic. We invented them to make humans feel safe. Not one of them works.”

“Crap,” she said.

“Scheming to kill me with a cross, were you?”

“Thought about it,” she admitted.

“I’m sorry I spoiled your plans. The attempt would have been…interesting.” His eyebrow jumped slightly, and unmasked curiosity flashed on his face and in his twitching smile.

Goodness, the man was a magnet. She didn’t have any interest in peeling her gaze from him.

“Personally, I love garlic.” Steffen tucked the rosary under his shirt.

“That explains a lot,” Soren said as he opened the door and guided her through it, away from Steffen and further into the chateau.

“Real nice! Pick on the guy with no social life,” he called after them.

In the dim light within, she made out the comfortable furnishings and a large fireplace, but beyond that, the room felt eerily quiet and abandoned. After Soren took her by the arm and steered her sharply to the left, she understood why. That grand room was apparently not traveled.

He opened a tall door, the wood thick and heavy on its well-oiled hinges. Beyond the door was a kitchen with a pale stone floor and walls reflecting the moonlight from the window. Each step echoed off the stones as they walked through the room. It felt empty in here, too.

He opened a door on the other side of the kitchen, revealing stairs that likely led to a cellar. He’d saved her life earlier; she’d have to trust he’d keep her safe now, too. She’d stick close to him.

Soren led her down the stairway. It turned sharply to the right once, twice. On the far wall a torch hung, shedding light over old, dusty barrels and bottles that likely hadn’t been touched in years.

“Through here,” he said, opening another wooden door, this one with wrought iron hinges and handles.

He gently pushed her through and guided her to the right, down a long corridor. Gray, bare walls seemed to continue on forever, interrupted by evenly spaced sconces. After only a dozen feet or so, he steered her sharply to his left into a corridor she hadn’t realized existed.

Her steps stuttered to a halt. Thick, richly colored tapestries bordered in red lined the walls, covering the stones. The scenes depicted battles, coronations, graceful ladies on horses, and knights jousting before castles. Soren urged her to move again, and she did, but slowly. There was too much to absorb.

She reached out, touched the tapestries. Soft, beneath her fingertips. Someone had taken very good care of them. The detail of the nearly eight foot tall masterpieces was impressive. She dropped her hand to avoid the narrow black and gold table between the tapestries, only to become lost in the rich red carpet covered in wispy, elegant white vines and buds. It was beautiful, like walking through a cozy castle.

Never would she have guessed a species only wakeful at night would appreciate such beauty and color. Of course, she hadn’t expected Soren to have an aversion to cars either. He wasn’t the vampire she’d assumed, but common sense told her she should fear him. He’d killed three men since she’d first seen him, and he was technically the only one who’d succeeded in harming her tonight. Somehow, that didn’t matter.

He cupped the back of her neck, his fingers gently climbing higher until they grazed her pulse. Gaze straight ahead, he matched his pace to her shorter stride.

His touch drifted over the spot where he’d bitten her, but it no longer hurt. In part she’d worn the turtleneck to cover what she’d assumed would be an obvious vampire bite, but there hadn’t been one. When she’d checked her neck in the crooked mirror hanging in Gustav’s bathroom, the wound had already healed. He hadn’t truly harmed her. Maybe that’s why she didn’t fear him.

The hallway ended, opening to a balcony rimmed with black, wrought iron fencing. A mass of thriving vegetation drew her closer, but the vision of clean blue water rippling gently beyond enthralled her.

“This is beautiful,” she sighed, headed for the railing.

“You have a lifetime to look at water. I have more important things to do right now.” He took her arm and steered her down yet another corridor, this one blue, royal, and plush.

Ahead of them a door opened, and a giant of a man stepped into the hallway. She moved back against Soren, allowing and expecting him to shelter her.

“Bareth,” Soren called.

The broad shouldered man only grunted as he strode heavily toward them.

Soren blocked Bareth’s escape. “I need a favor from you.”

“Oh, come on,” he protested.

“Five minutes. Just watch her,” Soren said, and then ducked through the doorway Bareth had exited.

“You suck,” the man grumbled, plopping down on a bench.

He’d left her. What the hell? She was alone in a strange place with a mountain of a man. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. He was larger than Soren, and probably stronger. That he’d sat down should have made him less intimidating. It did not.

Bareth lifted his arm, and she flinched. He merely rubbed his belly. Her nerves settled, but the simple movement had already kicked her heart rate up a notch, making her jumpy.

He studied her as well, and she took a step back. Suddenly, almost as if the man couldn’t think of anything else to do, he smiled. A lopsided, hesitant smile that showed his front teeth, including fangs.

“I…I think I need to sit down,” she said, her voice barely a whisper as she sank onto a long bench. It strangely resembled a church pew. How appropriate. She felt like praying.

Vampires. The word hadn’t really bothered her until Soren had left her alone with a man who might be a fair match for The Hulk. Now she had questions, and more than a few concerns. Were humans their only food source? Would she be passed to whoever needed blood? What if Soren let this man have her? How much blood would he need? Would someone always be sucking at her neck? No, that was ridiculous. Eventually she would be out of blood. Then she would be dead.

Despite the panic rising to choke her, the tears stinging her eyes, she held in her terror. She might not have anything or anyone to live for at the moment, but she certainly wasn’t ready to die.

Bareth sat in the pew opposite her, hands folded over his belly, head resting on the wall. He might be large and strong, but he didn’t look like he’d run far without becoming winded.

This could be her only opportunity to escape. Taking a deep breath, she stood, her legs shaking slightly beneath her. All she had to do was reach the entrance without meeting anyone along the way. She pretended to look at the tapestries and turned her back to the vampire.

He slouched deeper into the pew, and she sprinted down the corridor, not looking back. She rounded the corner, came out onto the balcony, and bolted up the red corridor. No footsteps fell behind her.

She dashed through the heavy door and closed it quietly behind her. Through the wine cellar and up the stairs she ran, past the kitchen. There she stopped to catch her breath, but only for a few seconds.

Edging closer to the wall, she walked slowly. Since Soren had broken down and taken the car from Gustav, aversion to sunlight was a true weakness for vampires. It should be near morning now. Would the guard they’d met on their way in be seeking shelter? She hadn’t passed him. He was either gone already, or still at the gate.

She peeked out into the foyer. It was quiet. Nothing moved ahead of her. Slowly, she opened the door to the alcove where the guard had been posted. Nothing.

A sweet, cool breeze touched her heated face, adding to the surreal feeling of her escape. She took one step, two steps. When she wasn’t stopped, she ran again, the forest and her freedom getting closer.

* * * *

Soren shook his head. Navarre was the only lord he’d heard of who did not conceal his rooms in some obscure corner of his city. Oh, no. It was quite obvious the lord of the city lived here, by the royal blue colors covering this hall and the frequent visitors who came to his ever-open door. Were he a poor ruler, the blatant advertising would be a bodyguard’s nightmare.

Lord Navarre Casteel, however, was a great ruler. He saw Balinese as his child, nurturing her, watching her grow and prosper. Once the lord knew of the danger to Balinese, as any father would, he’d protect her fiercely.

He’d known Navarre for centuries, and they had the best kind of friendship. Informal. Soren closed the door behind him, not bothering to lock it. The captain of the Guardians had lectured Navarre dozens of times about the dangerous habit, and he had yet to listen. His confidence bordered on arrogance. Then again, that was part of what made him great.

Moving through the large foyer lined with white columns, Soren made his way to the next room. More often than not, Navarre could be found in his personal library. The walls on the left side of the room were lined with inset shelves holding hundreds of books, caged in by doors decorated with a golden crosshatch design. A desk and study table stood in the midst of the books, currently unused.

“Soren,” Navarre greeted him then dropped his gaze to his work, his overly long hair falling forward.

“My lord,” he replied, stepping into the library.

“What is it today? Rats in the wine cellar, problem with a student, or have you come for a game of chess?”

Navarre sat as usual beside the fireplace with a book in hand. It would never be leisurely reading, but something of vampire history. His friend was always studying his own people. Once, he’d caught Navarre searching for any loopholes in their judicial system. Even now, his lord remained glued to the oversized book.

“I fear this is a great deal more serious than rats.” Soren sat in the chair opposite and waited for him to finish reading.

Navarre looked up at him, brows knitted in thought, then put the book aside. “You don’t look well. Go above, find a soft woman to sink your teeth into,” he suggested firmly.

“That was the plan. But I encountered a bit of…difficulty.”

“Difficulty?” Concern stretched across his features. “That is not a word that should be in your vocabulary, Soren.”

“I wish very much that it wasn’t.” He rubbed the back of his neck and sucked in a deep breath. “I found two demons attacking a woman in the streets of Paris.”

Navarre simply sat in the same relaxed pose. Slouched, his knees spread and elbows on the arms of the royal blue chair, he remained still.

“Another attacked me as I made my way back. Three total,” Soren said.

Still Navarre did not move.

After a long moment, he finally spoke. “What does Gustav say?”

Soren hadn’t mentioned to anyone that he still spoke to Gustav. How much his lord knew about his city, his people, and the world above continued to amaze him. “Gustav hasn’t seen any demons in a full decade. He didn’t take their presence well. Needless to say, they are very dead.”

“Alert the Guardians and have several scouts sent to Paris.” His lord set aside his book.

“I’ll find Captain Savard immediately,” Soren said as he stood.

“The council will meet in one hour, and you will be there,” Navarre said, leaving him able to do nothing but nod.

Walking to the door, he forced his footsteps into a normal, even pace. He didn’t like this urgency he felt. The threat of demons must be setting him on edge. That, or Faith. He feared for her safety, but there was no reason to, not here. Yet he could not deny that he did.

Closing the door to Navarre’s rooms behind him, he looked down the hall. Bareth lounged on the pew. Alone.

“Where is she?” he asked, frantically looking around.

Bareth shrugged. “Running.”

“And you didn’t stop her?”

“That’s Steffen’s job.” He stood, stretching his arms over his head.

“You lazy, good-for-nothing…”

Soren sprinted down the hall, following the only path she would know to take.