Mark of Betrayal
Page 2“Read me a line?” a girl said, swinging one leg over the branch of the tree above him.
He looked up and his closed lips spread wide with a smile for a moment, then he flipped through a few pages and read aloud.
The girl sat back; one leg tucked under her knee, her dress hanging loosely past the branch, twirling a strand of her long brown hair. “I like the sound of your voice when you read. It’s so soothing.”
The boy stopped and closed the book. “That was my aunt’s favourite passage.”
“Why?”
“Never asked her. My uncle told me he used to read this one passage to her, sometimes three or four times in a row—sitting under this very tree.”
“Under this tree?” she said. “But this is my dream. How can they have been here?”
The boy’s smiling eyes rested on his book again, a secret hiding behind them that he could share if he wanted, but chose not to.
“What was your uncle’s favourite passage?”
“I’m not sure he had one. I’m not even sure he liked this book.”
“Why did he read it then?”
The boy rested his head against the trunk of the tree. “He told me once that he never felt good enough for Arietta—that he always felt like a monster, darkening her purity. He read this story to her because he liked to believe even one who is deemed a monster can truly be good inside—that we all deserve love no matter what we are.”
“Is that why you like it?”
“No.” He grinned and stood up, leaving the book on the grass. “I like it because it has a tragic ending.”
“Liar.” The girl smiled and sat with both legs over the same side of the branch, the boy right beside her knees. “You like it because you can relate to Quasimodo.”
“Relate? Is that because the beastly creature falls in love with the beautiful girl?” He hooked a hand over the branch and swung himself outward a little. “I never said I was in love with you.”
“You didn’t have to.” She jumped down. “And that wasn’t what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“I meant…that you’ve always been misunderstood. David is like the good guy—the one they all think is beautiful on the inside—the hero, while you, who truly means to do only good by all, have been labelled the bad guy, the hideous beast. You’re just misunderstood.” She shrugged. “Like Quasimodo.”
The boy stared forward, his arms folded over his chest. “You have a very unique way of analysing things.”
“Or maybe I just know good when I see it.”
“So, you think I’m the good guy, huh?”
“I know you are.”
He scratched his brow and smiled, then dropped his arms to his sides. “Well, you were right about one thing.”
“Yeah, what’s that?” the girl asked, tilting her head.
“I do lo—”
A groggy hold stuck in the back of my throat as I lifted my head off the window, wiping a sliver of moisture from the indent left in my chin where I’d been leaning on the lock.
“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Mike said, then grimaced as he looked at me. “Or should I say Beast.”
“Shut up.” I whacked his arm then flipped the visor down to look in the mirror. Oh, my dear God.
“There’s a brush in the glove compartment,” Mike said, reaching across to open it.
“You keep a brush in your car?”
I grabbed the brush and fixed my hair as best I could, huffing when it stood its ground as a frizzy monstrosity. “Argh!”
“You okay, baby?”
“Yeah.” I ditched the brush into its home and slammed the little door shut. “I think I’m just a bit blood hungry.”
“Well, didn’t you eat before you left?”
I shook my head, toying with the lone white-gold band on my finger. “I didn’t want the taste of David on my lips all the way here today. It would’ve been too much for me.”
“It’s okay. Eric’s at the manor, you can feed from him when we get there.” He turned his head and smiled at me. “Unless you want some of mine—to hold you over for now. You do look a little pale.”
I shook my head again, watching his proffered wrist. “No. Blood lust combined with spirit bind and missing my husband could be a bad combination.”
He withdrew his arm. “Right. Good thinking.”
I shuffled in my seat, wishing I’d taken his offer. My throat burned and my stomach twisted in knots—which could’ve just been nerves. “Hey, Mike?”
“Yeah.”
“David doesn’t really like me drinking Eric’s blood. Are those Sacrificials at the manor yet? The ‘you call; we deliver’ blood guys?”
“There are a few there, posing as guests under protection. But we can’t call them Sacrificials yet, remember, until we let the secret out about blood immunity.”
“So, until then, I just have to let people think I’m killing vampires?”
“Or just not biting them to feed. We have the Upper House convinced we’re using prisoners to feed you.”
“And that I’m killing them?”
“Sometimes. That was how Lilith lived. Her food was sent to her by Set leaders who had sentenced vampires to death for their crimes.”
“So, Lilith never discovered immunity?”
“Never had reason to.”
“Oh.” I rubbed my face a few times, readjusting my seat to get comfortable. “So, who knows about the immunity?”
“Just your Private Council.”
“Not even the other one? What did you call it? The Upper something?”
Mike scoffed. “No. They don’t know. And they don’t need to.”
“Okay. Well, so, when do we tell them?”
He chuckled once, practically snorting. “Are you serious?”
I nodded.
“When we catch Drake, Ara. Until then, venom is our only weapon against him,” he said, his voice pitching like a schoolgirl’s. “If anyone at the manor were to let the secret of immunity slip into the wrong hands, people would not only ask why King David died when you bit him, but it might somehow get back to Drake that a; David might not be dead and that, b; armies, immune to our only weapon, could be created.”
“Oh.” I slid down further in my seat.
“Once you’ve taken your oath, that promise should give you increased powers. It’s rumoured that you would be as, if not more, powerful than Drake. We won’t need to worry as much if that’s true.”
I smiled. I liked the idea of that. Maybe then I could protect everyone else for once. “How do the Sacrificials get immunity from my venom if I'm not feeding them?”
He nodded at his own arm. “My blood.”
He shrugged. “I drink a lot of OJ.”
I laughed softly. I didn't really feel like laughing, but I’d not heard the word OJ since I was living in Oz.
“We’re working on new weapons,” Mike said out of the blue.
“Huh?”
“Myself, Morgaine and a few others. We’re developing weapons that may be able to kill vampires, even if they were immune to venom.”
“Oh. Cool. What kinds of weapons?”
“Well, you know about how they invented Lilithian steel back in the late fourteenth century?”
“Yeah, the metal that’s strong enough to imprison vampires.”
“Yep, and also strong enough to cut them, even when wielded by the hand of a human.”
“Yep. Didn’t know that bit, but, anyway…?”
“We’ve had swords commissioned, but—and this is only in experimental stage—we’re hoping that if we cut in the right place and bleed the vampires out quickly, the venom tips of the swords might be enough to deteriorate them—kill them or at least render them useless long enough to escape—even if they had immunity.”
“That could work. But you’d have to bleed them out pretty fast.”
He nodded, smiling at the road. “There are certain points you can cut on the body that’ll bleed a human out in seconds. We’re finding that, with most things, thinking human seems to be giving us the advantage.”
I nodded and looked out at the rolling green hills.
“Of course, this is Private Council talk, right. You know not to say this to anyone else—especially Arthur.”
“I know.”
“Good. Make sure you don’t. Not even accidentally, or you could ruin everything. Drake is a master of strategy—we’re going to have enough trouble finding and catching him as it is. If he knows any of our plans, we’re finished.”
I nodded again. “Don’t sweat it, Mike. It’s all good.”
“Good. And, Ara?”
“Yeah.” I looked up to his sweet tone.
“Good girl for refusing my blood. That’s the first smart choice I’ve seen you make in a long time.”
I was sure he meant that genuinely, and that just made it even more condescending, but it also made me smile. He was kind of right. “Thanks, Mike.”
“You’re welcome.”
We sat in companionable silence for a while longer; the radio off, the sound of the tyres whirring over the road, until I looked at the clock and realised it was past three in the afternoon. “How much longer ‘til we get there?”
“Five minutes or so.”
“Really?” I said, yawning.
“Yeah, look.” He nodded forward.
I sat taller and peered out the front windshield at the wide expanse of countryside; lush, green grass lining endless fields, yellow flowers sprinkling a touch of colour across it, and a blue sky that went on forever over the distant trees. “It’s not what I imagined.”
“What did you think it’d be?”
“I don’t know. Maybe marshland, creaky branches and a grey sky.”
“Sweet. I like gardens.”
“So did Lilith, apparently.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. And when Drake built the manor, he actually planted a special garden, just for her; it’s closed off by high walls. No one’s allowed in there except you and the gardener.”
“Wow. A secret garden.”
Mike nodded. “It was named the Garden of Lilith, but it’s been nicknamed Eden over the years.”
“So, why did Drake build her a garden if he hated her so much?”
Mike turned his head at a half an inch, then shook it.
“What?” I said.
“It just amazes me how you can switch off that much that you know absolutely nothing about Lilithian history.”
“Uh—did Morgaine add that in the politics speech?”
“Lesson, Ara. You mean lesson.”
I cleared my throat. Maybe I should have paid more attention. “I had a lot on my mind, okay, Mike. David was in agony in the next room. All I wanted was to be with him.”
“Well,” he said, shaking his head again. “You’re gonna have to take to the library and read some books, then.”
“We have a library?”
He just smiled, eyes on the road, while my blood rushed warm with excitement, imagining bookshelves to the ceiling and winding staircases leading up to them.
“Will I be okay?” I asked. “I mean, I don’t even know what the Upper Council is. Am I gonna make a fool of myself?”
“Yes.” He nodded. “And it’s Upper House. Not Council.”
“Oh.”
“Be sure you at least remember that much.”
“Okay. Upper House,” I said to myself a few times. “So, what do they do?”
“They have the same authority as your Private Council. Most of them were servants to the throne when Lilith was alive. Some of them are professors of politics or were generals in the human armed forces back in fourteen hundred. They’re old, traditional, and have strong political influence within our monarchy. You don’t want to mess with them.”
“Why?”
“Because they enforce the laws—including the laws that keep you in line.”
“Like what laws? I’m gonna be queen. Do I even have any laws?”
“Everyone has laws to follow, Ara.” The bored tone of a cop giving a ticket to a defensive teen dominated his voice. “Treason, for example; if you commit an act that goes against the throne—something morally improper or something that puts your people in great jeopardy—they could overthrow you.”
“Right. So, don’t mess with them.”
“Right. And, I know it’ll be hard for you being chastised all the time, but they’ll be the ones who debate your decisions and question everything you do. However,” he said, raising an index finger, “they have centuries of experience, and you’ll do well to listen to them. They have the Lilithian peoples’ best interests at heart.”
“And who speaks for the vampires?”
“Essentially, we do—your Private Council. But there’s also the Lower House.” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">