My mother’s voice whispered in my head. A single word long forgotten.
A golden river rushed toward me, swirling around to engulf me.
I reached out…Why was I reaching out? I only wanted to bathe in the shining sea. Nothing more.
So comfortable.
My mother whispered again. Plat-eye.
Plat-eye.
I tore my gaze away from the eyes and the golden river retreated. Snapping out of my trance, I snatched my axe from its sheath and sliced through the air sideways. The creature’s head landed on the tunnel floor with a soft thud followed by the body. A high-pitched shriek penetrated my eardrums and I watched as a globular spirit squeezed out of the open neck and dissipated into thin air.
I leaned against the wall to catch my breath. Even dead, my mother managed to save my life. I must’ve been five years old the first time she’d told me about an evil spirit called a plat-eye. It favored a dog shape but only to lure its victims closer until they were completely entranced.
A narrow escape.
As I wiped off the blade of my axe, I emerged from the tunnel. Plat-eyes didn’t tend to travel in groups but one couldn’t be too careful.
Across the street I noticed the remains of a churchyard. Queen Britannia had ordered the destruction of all the churches when she seized power and bodies were no longer buried within the city walls. Most churchyards had been picked over long ago and stripped of any resources. This one appeared to be no exception.
Faint movement drew my eye and I saw butterflies flit through the bars of the iron gates as though the rubble was their destination.
Let the hunted become the hunter, I thought with a certain satisfaction. They’d never expect me to follow them. Maybe they’d take me straight to their leader. I’d find out who was responsible for sending them after me and make sure it didn’t happen again.
I sprinted across the street and maneuvered between two broken bars. I stopped short when a familiar figure came into view. Pulse racing, I ducked behind a pile of discarded headstones.
Where are you going, Adwin, my vintner friend?
The royal winemaker paused outside the rubble and cast a furtive glance over his shoulder before proceeding. I counted to ten in my head before following him.
The smell of damp oak hung heavy in the air. I watched as Adwin lit a torch on the remnants of the wall and carried it along a narrow corridor. What could he possibly be doing here and where were the other vampires?
Darkness swallowed him and I realized he’d descended a set of hidden steps. I crept behind him, following the light from the torch.
I felt torn. Adwin seemed perfectly nice for a vampire. I longed to waltz up to him and politely request answers. The part of me that saw Antonia Birch’s dead body, however, told the polite part of me to shut the hell up.
Slowly I withdrew my dagger.
At the base of the steps I observed him hook the torch on the wall and turn away.
I pounced.
I heard the vampire’s sharp intake of breath. “Who’s there?”
I held the dagger to his throat. “What is this place?”
His voice trembled. “You do remember I’m a vampire. A blade across the neck won’t kill me.”
“Maybe not, but it will certainly make it difficult to drink the wine you love so much.”
“What is it that you need from me, Miss Hayes?”
“Information.”
“Why not ask Prince Callan? You two seem to have developed a certain rapport.”
I pressed the blade against his skin. Drops of blood bubbled from the flesh wound. “You’re keeping a secret from him. What is it?”
He laughed despite his obvious discomfort. “I can assure you there are many secrets between His Royal Highness and myself. We’re hardly confidantes.”
“You’re hiding something here. I want to know what it is.”
“You’ve been watching me?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing.”
“Why the devil would I be watching you? I’m the royal winemaker. Nothing more.”
“I saw butterflies enter this building. Where’d they go?”
“A routine security sweep. They travel through the churchyard and continue on.”
Then they weren’t after me? “Security for what?”
“Remove the blade and I’d be delighted to answer your questions.”
Delighted seemed a stretch, but I lowered my weapon nonetheless. I could take Adwin with both hands tied behind my back if need be. I opted to ease his discomfort and encourage him to talk. I had more questions now than when I entered the churchyard.
He rubbed his neck and offered an anemic smile. “You’d make an adept assassin. I had no idea you were following me and I have experience watching the shadows.”
“I’m not an assassin.”
“Thank the devil for that.”
Adwin removed the torch from the wall again and used it to light up the rest of the room. Everywhere I looked were crates of bottles and oak barrels. More than I could count, in fact.
“Overflow storage? Is the wine cellar at the palace so small?”
He motioned to the nearest barrel. “I’d offer you a drink, but I don’t think this would be to your taste.”
“I assume it isn’t wine.”
“Your assumption is correct, although it isn’t what you think.” He pointed to a shelf with goblets. “May I?”
I stepped away to give him space. He uncorked a bottle and pulled down a goblet from the shelf. The metallic scent of human blood filled my nostrils. He filled the goblet with an inch of crimson liquid.
“Security sweeps and your visits.” I frowned. “You come here to check the stock?”
“Regularly.”
“Doesn’t blood need to be kept in cooler conditions so it doesn’t spoil?” The room was cool but not cold enough to keep blood fresh.
“Not this kind.” He raised the goblet to his lips and sipped. “Almost ready, this one. Another few days and it’ll be exactly right. Then I’ll have the bottles transported to a special room in the palace.”
His eyes flickered to me. I got the sense he was waiting for me to ask a question. He wanted to tell me, but he also wanted me to work for the answers.
Okay, I’d play. “The special room is the one Callan and I saw you leaving carrying a crate.”
“Prince Callan, yes.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. “Yes, of course.” I might be the one holding a dagger, but Adwin just slayed me with two words.
I glanced at the goblet. “This isn’t blood from the tribute centers.”
He smiled and I was immediately reminded of his blunt fangs. “No, it isn’t.”
“Does the royal family know?”
“Only Prince Callan.”
“If not from the tribute centers, then where?”
Adwin touched the rim of the goblet. “A secret laboratory funded by the prince. The blood is synthetic.”
You could’ve knocked me over with one of Barnaby’s feathers. Callan had mentioned a research lab to me when we were trying to learn more about Damascus steel. I’d bet good money it was the same one.
“You’re telling me Prince Callan drinks synthetic blood?”
“Yes, and we hope one day the practice becomes widespread.” He parted his lips to show off his squared fangs. “Not all vampires find the consumption of human blood palatable.”