The Den of Shadows Quartet - Amelia Atwater-Rhodes [5]
“What are you saying?” I whispered, shocked.
“I may not have signed the Devil’s book, but that does not mean there are not creatures out there who belong to him.”
“Alexander!” I whispered, shocked by the implication. He had all but accused this Aubrey Karew of being one of the Devil’s creatures.
I looked at the rose, which was still in my hand, and then put it deliberately on the ground, trying to convince my brother — and perhaps myself — that such an action was possible.
Even so, my gaze remained on its black petals, and I realized how Alexander had felt when I told him to speak to a cleric after Lynette’s accident. What would be said should I explain to a preacher about the black rose I had accepted? After all, I had heard that people signed the Devil’s book with their blood, and my blood had been drawn.
Alexander walked back into the house silently, and I watched him leave, not knowing what to say. I could not deny that the rose was beautiful in a way — perfectly shaped, just opened. The color, though, was the color of darkness, death, and all the evil things I had been told of: black hearts, black art, black —
Black eyes. Hypnotic black eyes.
I did not like to believe that I might have accepted a gift from one of the Devil’s creatures. I convinced myself that I had not.
Perhaps if I had believed —
Perhaps nothing. What could I have done?
The next day would be my last day in that world — my last day to speak to my papa, my sister, or my brother, and my last day to draw a breath and know that without it I would die. It would be my last day to thank the sun for giving light to my days.
I would argue with Alexander and avoid my papa. And, like all humanity, never once would I thank the sun or the air for its existence. Light, air, and my brother’s love — I took them all for granted, and someone took them all away.
My last day of humanity … Rachel Weatere would die the next night.
CHAPTER 5
NOW
I PULL MY THOUGHTS from the past, not wanting to dwell on that night, and my gaze again returns to the black rose. I wonder briefly where it was grown. It is so similar to the one Aubrey gave me three hundred years ago.
I hesitate to pick up the white florist’s card that has been lying beneath the rose, but finally snatch it from the bed.
Stay in your place, Risika.
The rose is a warning. Aubrey did not like having his servant killed on his own land, and he is reminding me of my past.
I hunt in New York again this night, careful not to stray onto Aubrey’s land but refusing to give up my favorite hunting grounds out of fear.
I stop in his part of New York for only a moment. I have burnt the card and leave the ashes in a plastic bag on the front step of the Café Sangra. I take orders from no one.
Some vampires, like some humans, know nothing other than submission. They do not wish to rise in power. But those vampires are rare. Few vampires will allow themselves to show fear of another, for as soon as you are proved weaker you become the hunted. The hunter hates being hunted, chased, or wounded. If it did not, it would not be an aggressive hunter, and those who cannot be aggressive are hunted down while they shiver and hide because the night is dark.
Forever is too long to live in fear.
Even so, I do not go to see Tora this night. I do not wish to draw Aubrey’s attention to her until he has forgotten this small challenge. Although I resent being kept away from her, I would rather stay away than have her die so that my pride may be appeased. For Tora, I allow myself to fear Aubrey.
After I hunt, I change to hawk form and return to Concord, my mind still troubled. I fall into bed for the day, but I do not dream — I simply remember.
CHAPTER 6
1701
ALEXANDER AVOIDED ME the day after Mr. Karew visited. We attended morning services as a family, but the rest of the day, Alexander mostly stayed in his room. During the short time he was out he looked dazed,