A Den of Tricks (A Shade of Vampire #54)

“True, but we founded this city. We designed every building. We built it and helped it thrive. The Imen simply chose to live here with us, rather than with their own beyond the gorges. There were rules in place, and preserving our Mara heritage was a prerequisite. I hear they keep some of their own books and stories in little shops, somewhere on the lower levels, but I never bothered to read any of their folklore tales. The library is ours. I’d be more than happy to suggest a couple of decent Imen bookshops you could check out, if you’d like?”

“Sounds reasonable,” I murmured, though not really impressed with this… elitist separation. It was as if the Imen weren’t “good enough” to be included in the library, but they were “good enough” to work the reception desk.

“To be honest, most of the Imen who stayed with us didn’t know how to read or write.” Vincent shrugged. “The ones who did kept mostly to themselves and passed the skill down from one generation to another, but they never bothered to… say, open a school and educate the others. In fact, I think you care more about the Imen’s culture than the Imen themselves.”

Looking at it from that perspective, I couldn’t help but agree with Vincent’s point. This city was becoming more complex with each day that went by. Its varied nuances seemed downright contradictory at times, but the overall image was pretty clear: on one hand, we had the stylish, elitist, and art-loving Maras who considered themselves noble and superior, and, on the other hand, we had the Imen—the “simpletons”, the servants and helpers, the second-class citizens. And somehow, they lived together in apparent harmony, threatened only by daemons.

But then came the whole mind-bending issue, like a big black stain that destroyed the picture, turning the Maras into secretive creatures I couldn’t trust at all. Not even Vincent…

We couldn’t exactly point fingers at them, either. The situation was already difficult and complicated enough. Sparking a diplomacy war over their treatment of Imen wasn’t in our best interest—yet. Once we managed to reach out to Calliope, however, we were going to address the issue. Until then, all I could do was be quiet and observe everything related to the mind-bending of Imen.

“But enough about them.” Vincent sighed, then stood and offered me his hand. “Shall we dance?”

He winked at the musician, who switched to a deep but beautiful ballad. Its melody was soft and relatively linear, but the higher notes made my lips stretch into a smile, and I joined him on the white marble dancefloor for a dance.

Vincent held me close, one hand resting on my hip, as we swayed to the music. He studied me intently, with a mixture of curiosity and adoration, his citrus scent tickling my senses. I placed my left hand on his shoulder, my fingertips enjoying the velvety feel of his dark green jacket. He was, by all means, an elegant Mara with a keen sense of fashion. I realized then that I could never fall in love with someone like him. My peculiar strength made me yearn for someone who could handle it—and me, a warrior of sorts…

I glanced around the glass enclosure again, my eyes wandering aimlessly as the song carried us through its steady rhythm. My eyes nearly popped out at the sight of Zane standing outside, watching us. My grip on Vincent’s shoulder instinctively tightened as I stared at the daemon—the look on his face was a mixture of irritation and amusement. Had he never seen people dancing before? Or did he have an issue with my dancing with Vincent, in particular?

Also, what the hell is he doing here?

“Ouch!” Vincent broke me out of my shock. “Fiona, ouch…”

I stilled, realizing I’d been squeezing his shoulder hard. A gasp left my throat, and I immediately took my hand back.

“I am so sorry,” I mumbled, covering my mouth with both hands. He chuckled, then resumed the dancing pose, reclaiming control over my hip and right arm.

“It’s okay,” he said, and spun me around.

I briefly scanned the garden outside, but I couldn’t see Zane anymore. Had I imagined him there? If so, why?

“The sky is beautiful tonight.” I sighed, looking up. A sea of twinkling stars stretched overhead, against an indigo backdrop. Vincent, however, was unable to take his eyes off me.

“It pales in comparison to you,” he breathed, gradually lowering his head in an attempt to bring his lips closer to mine.

Oh, crap, he’s going to kiss me. No, no… Not a good idea…

I caught movement in the corner of my eye. Zane was once again standing on the other side of the glass, staring at us with discontent. My cheeks caught fire. My blood was simmering.

What the hell is his problem?

“What the…” I muttered, downright irritated.

“Are you okay, Fiona?” Vincent’s question broke my train of thought. I blinked a few times, then shifted my focus back to him and smiled.

“Yes… Sorry, I’m a bit tired. My mind keeps running off in different directions,” I replied, then checked the garden again. Zane was gone. Again. I was starting to oscillate between the potential loss of my sanity and the possibility that the daemon was actually trying to mess with my head.

He wasn’t there to physically hurt me; otherwise he would’ve done so. With or without the yellow powder, Zane seemed more than capable of knocking me off my feet, and even killing me. I needed more time to learn his fight patterns if I wanted to survive a potential attack from him. He was too damn fast, to begin with.

I saw him again, on the west side this time. He’s doing this on purpose.

Not willing to give him the satisfaction of disrupting my dinner and dance with Vincent, I decided to ignore him.

“How is Rewa holding up?” I asked, wrapping my arms around Vincent’s neck, in an attempt to show Zane that he wasn’t going to win this.

“She’s… She’s fine, for the most part. It will take some time for her to… heal.” Vincent blinked several times, both confused and excited by my gesture. I didn’t even realize how he might interpret this—I’d been too focused on sticking it to Zane. He put his arms around my waist and pulled me closer to him, as we kept dancing.

He felt nice and warm. But the closeness didn’t make my heart flutter.

“Do you think she’ll pull through as Lady of Azure Heights?” I replied.

“I know she’ll do her best to live up to her father’s expectations,” he muttered, his gaze darkening as he inched closer, his lips almost touching mine.

I pulled my head back slowly, prompting him to frown slightly, and saw Zane again—this time much closer, still on the west side of the glass enclosure.

“That’s it.” I exhaled sharply and gently pushed myself away from Vincent’s arms.

He looked confused, almost upset.

“Did I do something to offend you?” he asked, and I genuinely felt sorry for him.

“No, not at all, Vincent. It’s my fault.” I shook my head, trying to control my frayed nerves as my gaze darted between him and Zane, who was blatantly standing several feet away in the garden, arms crossed over his chest, looking as if he’d just eaten a whole, raw lemon. “I’m tired and unable to focus… I think it’s time I go get some rest. Please, rest assured, you’ve been a wonderful host. Thank you for dinner and the company…”

A couple of seconds went by as Vincent processed my excuse, then sighed and put on a half-smile.

“I understand,” he said. “Shall I walk you to the inn?”