I’d seen the roses with his name on them.
They didn’t bode well. He clearly wanted a Drake daughter to give him vampire babies— and the power of the council and the royal courts if Solange really did take them over. He wanted it all.
Lady Natasha, who wanted him as much as she wanted power, wouldn’t be too keen on any part of that plan.
If only vampire politics were on high school history exams, I’d be all set.
Solange was still asleep, curled around the sunbeams falling on her pillow. I’d already noticed that she was sleeping later and later. I was starting to get nervous for her. Everyone else seemed to think it was a totally normal part of the change. I pulled a sweater on over my nightgown and added thick socks. It was always freezing in the Drake house, no matter the time of year. I went straight to the kitchen to make myself some tea and toast. No one else was awake. I ate my breakfast and then took my tea with me as I wandered through the house.
In my sleep- dazed state, I’d actually forgotten about Kieran, tied to a sturdy chair in one of the parlors. I froze, cup halfway to my mouth. His eyes were intent, curious, edgy. I might not like his attitude, but I guessed I’d be edgy too if I was tied up in a vampire’s house. Especially if I was a brainwashed Helios-Ra agent. The gag was loose around his neck, lying next to his nose plugs. In daylight I noticed he was wearing black jeans and a black shirt, with bare straps where Helena had removed his weapons.
“You look like you belong in a bad comic book,” I told him cheerfully.
He stared at me. “You really aren’t bothered by the whole vampire thing, are you?”
I shrugged. “Whatever.” It was obvious he didn’t know what to make of me. I approached curiously. I’d never actually seen a Helios-Ra agent before. I wondered what the fuss was about. He was barely older than we were. His hands were lashed loosely at the wrists so he could move them a little, but his shoulders were tied tighter to the chair back. He wore steel-toed army boots, also attached tightly at the ankles.
“What did the Drakes do that’s got you all pissy?”
“Pissy? Did you just call me pissy?”
“I call ’em how I see ’em.”
“You are the weirdest girl.”
“From the guy who thinks he’s a secret agent man.”
“You should take the Helios-Ra more seriously,” he warned me.
I smiled at him with very little humor. “I don’t take direction well.” I raised my eyebrows. “So? What’s with the vendetta?”
His jaw clenched. “I told you.”
“I’m sorry your dad died. But you can’t blame all vampires for the actions of one.” I tried to sound reasonable, calming. My mom was a natural at that sort of thing. Me?
Not so much. “That’s called racism.”
“They’re not human.”
“That’s so beside the point.”
He gaped at me. “What?”
“And besides, the Drakes are human, or were mostly. And they’ve never gone all rogue and fangy on the general populace. Don’t they teach you anything at that hotshot secret academy?”
“How did you know about the academy?” He was trying not to look startled.
“Please. It’s kind of obvious.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand exactly,” I said.
“They’ve brainwashed you.”
“Hey, you’re the one in some kind of hunter cult.” He narrowed his eyes. “This isn’t a joke, Lucy. The Drakes killed my father.”
“They did not.”
“You don’t even know who my father is.”
“I know you’re an idiot.”
He looked at me for a long silent moment as if he was searching for something.
Then he looked at my cup.
“Can I have a sip?” he asked. “I haven’t had anything to drink all night.” I didn’t trust him, obviously. He’d scaled several fences and snuck onto a heavily guarded vampire land with less than polite intentions. Still, it was only tea. How dangerous could that be? I stepped closer. I lifted the cup to his lips and he drank gratefully.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, smiling sadly. He slipped his right hand under his left cuff and there was a small cracking sound and a puff that looked like powdered sugar from a vial sewn into his sleeve. The heavy scents of chocolate and lilies hung between us. It made me want to sneeze.
“I’m pretty much immune to vampire pheromones,” I informed him loftily, crossing my arms.
He didn’t look disappointed or defeated.
“You’re not immune to this blend,” he said.
“Yes, I am. I don’t know what you think—” The room wavered slightly, like I was seeing it through heat waves coming off asphalt. “What the hell?” Another puff of powder.
“This is a special blend.” He sounded briefly apologetic. “No one can resist it for long.”
“You’re not going to get away with this.” All the colors looked weird, as if they were full of light. The red of the velvet drapes looked as if it were dripping blood. “I’ll scream.” I opened my mouth.
“You will not scream,” he said calmly.
I closed my mouth. The taste of cocoa and flowers made me gag. There was something else laced under the flavors, but I couldn’t place it. Licorice, whiskey, something. I felt faint, befuddled. And underneath the vagueness, fiery anger.