After Daybreak (15 page)

“Nothing in my life is. Even falling for you was hard.”

His eyes glitter with understanding. Having me in his life hasn’t been easy for him either.

“Will you come back tomorrow night?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No. I’m going to arrange a little dinner at the apartment for everyone. I’ll tell them afterward.”

He cocks his head to the side. “I didn’t know you cooked.”

I shrug. “I’ve watched Rachel. You heat a pan or the oven and put stuff in it until it’s cooked.”

He grins. “I’m sure it will be a very special meal.”

I narrow my eyes. “Why do I think you’re mocking me?”

His smile widens. “I would never mock you.”

“Better not.” I lean into him. “I can take your message about sending in the Lessers to Clive.”

“I’ve already sent it. I knew once you started getting ready for bed that I would have plenty of time.”

I straighten. “It didn’t take me that long.”

“It always takes women a long time. Faith needs at least two hours.”

“It took me twenty minutes, tops.”

“That’s all I needed.” He threads his fingers through my hair, holding me near. “Your friends won’t turn against you, Dawn.”

He voiced one of my biggest fears: that they’ll look at me differently. I remember Michael wiping his hand after he touched me in Crimson Sands. I had to fight for my place in the vampire world. Now I may have to fight for it in the human world.

Chapter 18

T
o my surprise, I wake up feeling fully rested. I roll over to see Victor lying so peacefully, as still as death. I listen for his breath and hear it softly flow in and out, his chest barely rising at all.

My stomach growls and I worry it’ll wake him up. It’s not
that
loud, but to a vampire’s sensitive ears it could sound like a thunderstorm in the distance. So I slip out of bed, deciding he needs his sleep and I need breakfast.

I quietly shut the door and head toward the stairs. I don’t know where the kitchen is, but I assume that it’s near the dining room, the infamous place where I used to meet Lord Valentine.

Down the stairs, through another hall, and I’m greeted by the two massive Greek sculptures that flank the doors. I guess that hasn’t changed. But when I open them up, I’m greeted by something new. Someone.

Eustace is setting the massive table.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say, suddenly uncomfortable that I’m alone in a room with a vampire. Everyone else is asleep. Shouldn’t he be as well?

“Ah, good day, Miss Montgomery,” he says. “I heard you coming down the hall. I suppose you’re here for breakfast.”

“Yes, and please call me Dawn.”

“Yes, Miss Montgomery. Please, have a seat, while I go inform the cook.”

“Thank you.”

I sit in the nearest chair, the flames crackling in the fireplace. The room, like much of the manor, has huge windows that are kept under blinds and curtains during the day. Tiny bits of sunlight slip through the bottom, but the room itself is brightened slightly by gas lamps along the wall. I always figured vampires wouldn’t like windows, but I guess they like to look out at night. An oil lamp is suddenly placed in front of me by Eustace, who seems to appear out of nowhere.

“Please forgive the darkness,” he says. “Normally the moon and stars help alleviate that. But I’m afraid the windows must be closed for now.”

“It’s no problem. I hate being a bother. I’ll just take some food back to the room.”

“No, no, I won’t hear of it.”

He continues setting the table, the napkins and silverware lined up so perfectly that I’m surprised he doesn’t have a ruler to measure the exact angles and distances. I guess he’s had a lot of practice. He looks to be in his late forties but could be hundreds of years old. I have no idea when he was turned, or even by whom. All I know is that once he was human.

A moment later he brings me coffee and orange juice on a silver platter. “I do hope that coffee or juice is
your thing
,” he says, reminding me of our exchange about the tea.

“I love coffee. Juice? I can take it or leave it.”

“Take it or leave it where?” he asks.

I fight back my laughter because I don’t want to insult him. Obviously he doesn’t get out much. “It’s just an expression. I’ll drink it.”

“Very good.”

“Everything smells wonderful,” I say.

“You’re a guest of the Valentine house. The servants are here to serve.”

A female vampire sets a plate loaded with pancakes, eggs, bacon, and fruit in front of me. I quickly take a few bites, only realizing how hungry I am once the aromas hit and the tastes explode in my mouth.

“I hope this is adequate,” Eustace says.

Is he joking? “More than adequate,” I say. “It’s amazing.”

“I shall pass on your compliments to the chef.”

When I finish my food, Eustace has the plates taken away and refills my coffee cup. I begin to understand what Victor meant when he once told me that the Victorian era was their glory days. This sort of pampering would have been normal for the Old Families, so they could’ve blended right in with the wealthy. I imagine them having house parties with humans, their guests being none the wiser that a vampire was host, a monster from books and legends. I have to ask. . . .

“Eustace, can I have a moment with you?”

“Of course, miss.”

He stands by the chair across from me, hands folded, listening attentively.

“You can take a seat,” I say, trying not to smile.

He looks around, maybe confused a bit, before sliding out the chair and sitting down. He takes a moment to make sure it’s perfectly aligned with the table, then sits upright, everything about his posture faultlessly parallel and perpendicular.

“Were you a butler during the Victorian era?” I ask. “It’s just that Old Family always talk about it, but I’ve only ever heard tales from them, never a Lesser. So I was just curious what it was like.”

He looks up dreamily for a moment. “It was wonderful,” he says. “Everyone was polite. The Old Families weren’t at each others’ throats. There was no shortage of blood.”

“But how did they get it?” I ask. “Without donations it must’ve been difficult.”

“There was the occasional black sheep in the family who went out and took from whomever he chose. But for the most part, it was very civilized. Most Old Family would have Lessers infiltrate the morgues as assistants or even as morticians. There, they would drain those who had unfortunately passed. Few seemed to notice, or care, that these people loved the night shift. Most gladly gave it to them. There were also doctors who took from the living so that it was fresher. Blood-letting was not for the health of humans as the history books would have you believe, but was a secret way for us to obtain blood for the vampires.”

I try to imagine the entire operation of getting the blood to the vampires consistently. It must’ve been a real challenge.

“It just doesn’t seem like it would be enough,” I say.

“Remember, fewer vampires existed back then. Whereas now there are millions, back then there were hundreds, Old Family included. And the system was much better than the one before it.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. Back when there were kings and castles, we simply had to steal villagers in the middle of the night. Sadly, there was simply no other way to do it. Oftentimes we would keep a human alive for years, draining him slowly in exchange for food and modest shelter. In reality they were prisoners, but it was better than taking their chances as a serf.”

“Wait, wait, wait. That must’ve been, what? Eight, nine hundred years ago?”

“Hmmm, something like that.”

“Eustace, how long have you been a servant?”

He once again looks up at the black ceiling, shadows and darkness keeping its true height a mystery.

“Fifteen hundred years, I suppose.”

It’s probably poor manners to gape at that, my jaw wide in disbelief, but I can’t help it.

“Well,” I say. “You don’t look a day over fifty.”

He laughs a little. “Thank you, miss. I was fifty-five when Leo Valentine turned me. Before that, I was his blood servant, what you kids now call blood divas. I remained loyal at that post for thirty years. This was in Eastern Europe, the heart of the Valentine holdings. Leo lived in a gigantic castle overseeing the village below. One day, a massive plague swept through the town, and I fell ill. I would have died, but Leo, in his great mercy, turned me. I have served by the Valentines’ side ever since.”

That’s amazing. I’m talking to a walking history book, a man older than Victor.

“What happened to Leo?” I ask.

“He was killed by his son, Murdoch.”

“As in, Victor’s father?”

“Yes. I watched young Murdoch being born, held him in my arms, tutored him as he grew older. But I always knew, deep in my heart, that he would ascend the throne violently. It was a very bloody time for the Valentines. Murdoch killed many of his own family, all of them vying for the throne. When it was over, the Valentine dynasty was greatly weakened. It would have been destroyed by the other, more powerful families at the time. But Murdoch quickly gained a reputation for being ruthless and cunning. I think that time in his life, when he was battling constantly, stayed with him forever. Until, of course, Victor followed in his footsteps and slew him.”

It seems like it runs in the family. And now, it’s brother against brother.

“What was Victor like when he was young?” I ask.

“Bright. Caring. Compassionate. Not unlike his own father at the same age. When the war finally broke out, I watched him go off, knowing that he would change, just as his father had. One cannot fight for so long without the scars building on one’s soul. Even if he chooses not to show them, the scars are there.”

I think of a young and happy Murdoch Valentine, something I never even imagined was possible; but it was. Then I see him changing, becoming bitter over time, killing his own father, ascending, and then finding that the world is much more difficult and unforgiving than his idealism made it out to be.

“But Victor’s different, isn’t he?” I ask.

Eustace smiles, knowing that this question means more to me than I care to admit. “In more ways than you can ever imagine. And please tell me if I speak outside my bounds, but do you know what the biggest difference is?”

“What?”

“You.”

Chapter 19

A
fter I finish breakfast, I get dressed and go into Victor’s room. He’s still sleeping. I’m not surprised since the clock in the hallway indicates it’s only two in the afternoon. Before we went to bed, he told me to take his car to Denver. I give him a light kiss on the cheek, grab his keys, and head out.

I consider paying Eris a quick visit, see how she’s holding up—or not holding up as the case may be—but decide her isolation will do us more good. She’s accustomed to being the center of attention. Being deprived of it is probably as tortuous as the belief that she’s going to become one of the Infected.

The drive into the city is lonely with no passengers in the car and nothing but my own thoughts bouncing around my head. The last time I drove was the day after Victor overthrew his father, and I had to get back to the city to tell Clive what had happened. Now I have something else momentous to share, and I’m dreading it. My thoughts center around how I’ll break my news, what I should emphasize.

I
am a vampire.

I
am
a vampire.

I am a
vampire.

I’m a dhampir. Oh, what is that? you ask. Well . . .

Say, Clive, how well did you really know my father?

Guess what?

Maybe I should start with a joke, lighten the mood—

So a vampire and a delegate walk into a bar . . .

Nothing seems adequate. There’s just no easy way to say this.

I’m grateful when I see the wall so I can start thinking about something else. I spot smoke billowing out in a couple of streams within the city. Day Walkers are still wreaking havoc.

At the gate, I show my credentials and am waved through. Encountering the destruction again makes me wish that I’d taken time with Eris and forced her to tell us what she knows about the Day Walkers in the city. Fewer people are out. I can’t blame them for staying indoors, and my anger is renewed. We shouldn’t have to live like this.

Crossing over trolley tracks, I turn down a street—

Crash!

A Day Walker lands on the hood of the car. Revealing his fangs, he pulls his hand back to smash through the window.

I swerve and he goes sliding off. Reversing, I run over him. The action won’t kill him, but it’s bound to break bones and slow him down while he heals. I floor the pedal and race down the street. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I see him squirming. I should have stopped to finish him off, but it could be a trap with his friends lying in wait.

I take evasive maneuvers, going around one corner and then another. I should have asked for an escort at the gate. Hindsight is always better. In hindsight, we should have staked Sin the day we met him. Too bad we didn’t know what he was.

I come to a screeching stop outside my apartment building, jump out, lock the door, and race up the stairs. In the lobby are two additional guards, stakes drawn. Extra precaution is being taken. Good.

“Is everything all right?” one of the guards asks.

“Yeah, just ran into a Day Walker in the city. It’s getting worse, isn’t it?”

“Their attacks have become random, unorganized. In some ways that makes it worse.”

Unorganized because now we have Eris. I so wish that I didn’t have to leave the city, that I could be here to fight.

Once I step into the apartment, I’m hit with the realization that I haven’t been back here since the night I left for New Vampiria. I’ve changed so much and yet I relish the comfort of home. Rachel’s not here, so I’m sure she’s at work.

I go to my room and grab my cell phone from where I left it on my desk. I didn’t take it with me. Who would I have called? I send out texts to Rachel, Michael, Tegan.

My place. 8. Dinner.

I add a note to the one I send Clive:
Bring Ian.

I don’t text Jeff. Rachel will know the invitation includes him.

I’ve taken two steps when I get a response from Tegan.

Coming over now.

As much as I miss her, as much as I want to see her, I need some alone time to psych myself up.

No. Don’t. Planning a surprise.

Does it involve you and Victor? Wink.

I ignore her question and just reply:
See u at 8.

I wander into the kitchen. It’s always been Rachel’s domain. But really, how hard can it be?

Hours later, I’m ready to scream. I used Rachel’s recipes, but she must not list all the ingredients because nothing tastes the way it does when she makes it. The cake is flat. The cheese dip keeps hardening. When I take the chicken out of the oven, it is almost as cold as it was when I took it out of the freezer. Is the oven not working?

The doorbell rings and I jump. I look at the window. How did I miss night arriving? And who’s here already? Tegan? I still have an hour to go.

I march to the door and yank it open. “Go away, you’re too ear—”

I stop. It’s not Tegan. It’s Victor, dressed in jeans and a black button-down shirt. He’s holding a large box.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

He gives me a soft smile. “Did you really think I was going to let you do this alone?”

I blink back the tears. “I’m so glad you’re here. What do you know about cooking?”

“That my chef is very good at it.” He steps through the doorway and I shut the door.

“What’s in the box?”

“Prepared food. All we have to do is put it in the oven—good God. It looks like one of the Infected came through here.”

I punch his shoulder. “It’s not that bad.” Although it kind of is. “While I appreciate you bringing food, I really wanted to make it myself.”

“You are making it. You put it in the oven, it cooks. You can even stir it if you want to get industrious.” He sets the box on the counter.

“I’ll show you industrious.” I flick some flour at him.

“Hey! I can take my unwanted food and go.”

I leap forward and grab his wrist. “No. I don’t know if I’m distracted or what, but I just couldn’t seem to make sense of the recipes.”

“Then cook what I brought.”

I nod. “You didn’t happen to bring someone to clean up the mess, did you?”

He pulls me in close. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

Although a little tension exists at first, when everyone realizes that Victor is here, it soon dissipates as the food is served. They’ve never had a meal as flavorful as the one Victor and I present. But then, Denver doesn’t have any chefs. Victor explains that the chef is a French master cook. His only regret in life is serving Murdoch Valentine years ago at a party held in Versailles. The vampire was so impressed with the food that he decided to turn the cook and keep him forever.

After dinner, people congregate in little groups to talk: Michael and Tegan, Clive and Ian, Rachel and Jeff. They are relaxed and smiling.

“Your chef didn’t put something extra in the food, did he?” I ask Victor. “You know, something to alter the state of their minds?”

“I think they’ve just had a good meal for the first time in a very long while.”

Clive and Ian amble over.

“Just wanted you to know,” Clive says, his voice low, hushed, “that your Lessers have been immersed into one of the Night Watchmen units.”

“Was there any trouble?”

“Could have been,” Clive acknowledges, “but we have a young Watchman who has considerable experience fighting alongside vampires. He convinced the others to give this idea of yours a shot.”

Michael.

“I’m impressed with Anita,” Ian says. “Wouldn’t have wanted to encounter her during the war.”

“She’s one of my best,” Victor assures him.

I remember Anita. I saw her in a dream I once shared with Victor. Her hair is nearly white, and she has a striking presence, like she was cut from a beautiful block of marble.

Ian and Clive wander off to get more wine.

“I guess I need to do this.” I exhale my breath.

“Remember you’re not alone.”

I squeeze Victor’s hand. I try to imagine how I would react if Tegan told me she was a dhampir. But I just can’t envision it.

“Okay, everyone,” I call out, “I have an announcement to make, so if you could please gather around.”

Tegan drops into a chair, pulls her feet up. Her smile is so big, her eyes so bright that I know she thinks my announcement involves declaring that Victor and I are a couple, maybe even engaged. Rachel and Jeff sit on the couch and hold hands. Clive takes a nearby chair. His feet braced apart, Ian stands at the edge of the circle as though he isn’t quite sure he belongs here.

Michael’s steady gaze is on me. I think he knows what I’m going to announce. He’s leaning against the door, his arms folded across his chest as though he’s preparing for battle.

Victor moves in behind me, places his warm hand on the small of my back, steadying me, strengthening my resolve.

Tegan gives the tiniest little squeal. She’s probably envisioning what she wants for her bridesmaid’s gown.

I swallow with difficulty. The words—

“Okay, there’s just no easy way to say this. Michael already knows.”

He unfolds his arms. “Dawn—”

I shake my head. “Sin didn’t lie, Michael.”

He takes a step forward. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.” I turn to the others. “I’m part vampire.”

Tegan’s smile remains, but it is as though she’s frozen in shock and can’t get her muscles to move. Rachel and Jeff are looking at each other. Clive is shaking his head. Ian is as still as a statue.

I take another deep breath and rush on. “You know there are fourteen Old Families. Centuries ago, there was a fifteenth. The Montgomerys. I’m a descendant, the result of a vampire mating with a human.” Could I get any more clinical, sound any less emotional? “I’m what they call a dhampir.”

“Bullshit,” Tegan finally says. “If Sin told you this—”

“He did, and I didn’t believe him. But my father left me a recording saying the same thing. He had documents to prove it.”

Victor slips his arm around my shoulders, brings me in close. “The Vampire Council recognized her claim when we were in New Vampiria. But it does not change who she is.”

“Of course it doesn’t,” Rachel says, but doubt edges her voice.

Tegan pops out of the chair, steps over to me, and gently grabs my wrist. “So you’ve got a drop of vampiric blood in here somewhere,” she says, feeling the pulse on my wrist. She then places her hand on my chest, where my heart is. “But Victor is right. Dawn is in here. And that will never, ever change.”

I hug her then and there, and she holds me tight.

“You’ve been the best friend in the world,” I say.

She pulls back and smiles that Tegan smile of hers. “Yeah, I have been pretty good, haven’t I?”

Before I can respond, Rachel is skirting past her and wrapping her arms firmly around me. “Of course, you’re still you.”

“I guess that explains why your family has always understood vampires so well,” Clive says, patting my back.

“Her heritage comes with great responsibility,” Victor says. Everyone looks at him. “She proved herself worthy of a seat on the Vampire Council. Her vote broke the tie that would have prevented the Old Families from supporting a war against Sin.”

“Wish I’d been there to see that,” Tegan says.

“Unfortunately”—I look over at Clive—“every family is required to send a representative to Los Angeles. Since I’m the only Montgomery, I have to go.”

“I’ll go in your place,” Ian suddenly announces.

I snap my gaze over to him. It still doesn’t look as though he’s moved. “Thank you, Ian. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that, but it has to be a family member.”

“So adopt me. Will that work?”

Victor tilts his head back, thinking about it. “There might be a way. You could take a blood oath.”

“Let’s do it.”

“You don’t even know what it is,” Victor says, smiling.

“It doesn’t matter.”

I clutch Victor’s arm. “I don’t want someone else to fight for me.”

“There’s going to be plenty of fighting to go around, and your place is here.”

“Victor’s right,” Clive says. “Denver needs you.”

“Besides, the Night Train is in Los Angeles,” Ian says. “I was going to go back for it anyway.”

Walking over to him, I place my hands on either side of his face. “Now I know why you’re the greatest vampire hunter who ever lived. And it has little to do with the number of vampires you killed.” Rising up on my toes, I kiss his cheek.

“You’re going to make me blush.”

Make him? When I step back, I see that he’s already turned red.

“So how does this blood oath thing work?” he asks.

Victor withdraws his stake. “I pierce your palm, then Dawn’s. She presses her palm to yours and you’ll swear an oath that your blood will always spill before hers.”

Ian nods. “I’ve got so many scars, what’s one more?”

Victor digs his stake into Ian’s palm until blood pools around it. I see the apology in his eyes when he does the same thing to me. It pricks, stings, but I don’t let the discomfort show.

I flatten my hand against Ian’s.

“My blood will always spill before yours,” he says.

“I don’t know what to say,” I whisper. “It’s too much.”

“Say it will never spill in vain,” Victor whispers. “That’s your vow to him, a recognition that you value his loyalty.”

“I promise it will never spill in vain.”

“So it is done,” Victor announces.

So it is done.