An hour later, Victor and I are sitting on the blanket, gazing out on a lake reflecting the silvery moonlight. It’s peaceful out here, with the insects chirping an unfamiliar cadence. Perhaps because of their nearness to the water, trees are actually flourishing. I hear the occasional hoot of an owl.
“I’m sorry we can’t do this during the day,” Victor says.
I give him a soft smile. “I like the night.”
He pours deep red wine into a crystal goblet. “Do you?”
“Until recently it was more of a love-hate relationship,” I admit. “I hated it because it brought out the monsters and yet I felt drawn to it, to the peacefulness of a star-filled sky.”
Victor hands me the glass, pours one for himself. Then he stretches out beside me, raises up on an elbow, and taps his glass against mine. “Here’s to the end of all monsters: those that haunt the night and those that roam the day.”
I sip the wine. It’s rich and smooth. “I guess vampires always dreaded the arrival of daybreak.”
“We still do. That’ll never change,” he says. “But hopefully the sun is all we’ll fear. We won’t have to fear being hunted anymore.”
He offers me a strawberry dipped in chocolate. I bite into it. It’s delicious, decadent. I’ll have to remember to compliment his chef.
“So now you believe vampires and humans can live together?” I ask.
“Based on what I’ve witnessed the past few days, I think it’s a definite possibility.”
“As long as we defeat Sin.”
Reaching up, he strokes my cheek. “Tonight, let’s pretend he doesn’t exist. Tonight, it’s just us.”
Just us. We’ve had so few moments of it being just us, even fewer when there were no worries at all. I finish off my wine, feeling lethargic and relaxed. I lie on my back and stare at the stars scattered across the black heavens like tiny diamonds.
“I miss your theater,” I tell him.
He skims his fingers up and down my arm. “I do, too. Maybe I’ll renovate it, make it a working theater, open it to the public.”
Rolling my head to the side, I look up into his face. “That would be cool.”
“Once this is all over, Richard wants to go back to Los Angeles, return it to its glory days, to what it was before the war: a place that recorded dreams and fantasy.”
“Do you think that’s possible?”
“Since you came into my life, I think a lot of things are possible.”
Tears sting my eyes. “You once told me that I was your greatest weakness.”
“I was wrong. You’re my greatest strength, Dawn. Sending my Lessers into the city to work with the Night Watchmen as you suggested changed everything. I can see now that I was still viewing humans as part of the problem. You helped me to see that they can be included in the solution.”
“What if they don’t give blood?”
“We’ll find another way.” He cradles my cheek and leans in. “Vampires and humans can live together. They live together in you.”
He lowers his mouth to mine. For the first time I recognize, truly recognize, that Victor unconditionally accepts me as I am: a dhampir. I’ve been so worried that as a lone dhampir, I would be isolated, would fit in neither world, but as he deepens the kiss, I realize that he’s never turned away from me.
What courses through my veins doesn’t make me what I am or who I am. I was forged by my parents’ love—and my brother’s. Their deaths shaped me further, but the foundation that they gave me provided the strength to not only survive but to follow my heart.
And that led me to Victor.
Whether he is a vampire or human, I would feel this strong attraction toward him, this unyielding love for him. Why did I doubt that he would feel the same toward me?
I stroke my hands over his broad shoulders, his powerful back, and I feel desire such as I’ve never known. He means everything to me. It’s terrifying to admit, but I’m willing to embrace the possibility of hurt for the reality of now.
My life will be measured in years; his will be measured in memories. I’m determined that whatever time we have together will never fade from his mind.
He skims his warm lips along my throat, slides his mouth across my crucifix tattoo. His tongue circles the shell of my ear. He whispers low, “I love you, Dawn.”
Rising above me, he holds my gaze. I look deeply into his eyes. “I love you, Victor, forever.”
“Forever,” he repeats before once again capturing my mouth.
As the moon shines down on us, I know that the night has never been more beautiful, more perfect.
Chapter 24
The next morning, I awake in Victor’s bed, his warm body nestled against mine. I feel so incredibly close to him, closer than I’ve ever felt to anyone.
I get up and put on a silk robe, the red double V stitched into it, and a pair of slippers. I leave Victor to rest and head down the hall. Hopefully Eustace will be in the dining room and I can get some breakfast.
The euphoria of last night fades slightly when a cold draft comes down the hall. I quicken my pace, my feet slapping noisily on the tile. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m running from something. Certainly not from Victor, and certainly not from last night. But . . .
A sudden fear clenches me and I turn around—but there’s nothing except emptiness. I shake my head, trying to get rid of this strange aura. The hallways seem darker, the statues more looming, the walls moving in. It’s like Murdoch Valentine has reclaimed the manor and transformed it back to what it once was.
Maybe some coffee and juice will help settle me.
I open the door into the dining room. The curtains on the windows are open and light is pouring in. I’ve never seen it like this, so bright and revealed. The colors have changed dramatically under the sun, and artwork on the walls, once entirely hidden in shadows, now dominates.
That’s when I realize why fear is gripping me. It’s too quiet. In fact, it’s dead silent. None of the servants are walking about, completing their daily tasks. No one dusting, no one cleaning up, no one rushing about with laundry. It’s been nothing but the soft sound of my feet on the floor.
I go over and begin shutting the curtains, wondering if the other vampires will praise me for blocking out that dreadful sun. Ha. That’s probably the word Eustace will use. “Dreadful.” He’s so cute in a superpolite old-world-servant kind of way. I wonder if he ever—
Crunch.
I stop. There’s broken glass beneath my slippers. Slowly lifting my gaze, I see the window it once belonged to is shattered.
It’s so strange, this tiny destruction in an otherwise perfect room.
I turn around and quickly, very quickly, walk out of the dining room. Something’s not right. I need to talk to Victor. I’m nearly at the end of the hallway when something stops me. A song. A piano playing from the music room. The melody is soft and sad, as if scored on the coffin of a dead loved one.
I creep toward the piano room. The windows on the side of the hallway are wide open, the thick drapes pulled back, and the thin silk curtains waving like ghosts from another plane, reaching out to grab the light as though it may bring them back to life.
The melody is so beautiful, and I’d love to rest my head on the door frame and listen, afraid to disrupt the performer. But when I turn into the room, I truly am sorry that I disrupted him.
The piano player continues striking the notes, playing to his audience of dead servants splayed on the ground with throats gouged out. Some are sitting in chairs like grotesque marionettes, their eyes wide open but not seeing the musician at his keys. Others lie on the floor, their limbs intertwined, placed without care. Eustace is among them, glassy eyes looking at me as though pleading for one last chance to straighten the glassware before finally retiring.