“Y… yes?”
“Enter.” The voice commands more than requests, and my spine tingles. The clairvoyance magic within me predicts that that one word, and what I do next, could change my life.
I look at Harlow because I’m scared. He simply nods to me and I take a step forward.
The ghoul moves aside, and as soon as my foot lands on the floor inside, it’s as though a door has shut somewhere deep in my psyche. It just feels… dark. I look over at Harlow and I’m relieved to see he’s still beside me. I know the incubus is supposedly dangerous to me, but he’s all I’ve got in this strange place.
And I trust him. I’m not sure I should, but I do.
We both look forward then, but the man on the stairs doesn’t move to greet me. Harlow clears his throat and throws a nasty smile at the man I presume is the count.
“Everly, this is Count Jean-Claude Von Zarovich.” He doesn’t say “the third,” and I’m pretty sure I heard the word “dick” uttered beneath his breath.
He’s also glaring at the count, but the count doesn’t look at him. The count is looking at me. Staring at me. “Come closer, Everly.”
EIGHT♀♥♂♂♂♂EVERLY
I look at Harlow, but he doesn’t move, nor does he return my gaze. My steps are slow and tentative. The air is cold and stale. It feels like there hasn’t been any life in this castle for a long time. Too long.
“Stop.” The count holds up a hand. “Return the jacket to Mr. Loveless.”
Loveless? I look back at Harlow and whisper, “Your last name is Loveless?”
He gives me a sad smirk and a shrug, as if to say he is what he is. Then he slowly reaches out. I give him his jacket back, careful not to touch his skin, and he swings the leather over one shoulder, looking every ounce the bad boy, which I’m more than sure he is.
“Do you have luggage?” The count’s voice pulls me back to face him.
“Maybe?” I say, at the same time Harlow says, “I’ll return with it.”
Everyone is tense. The count’s body language is so formal, I’m unable to decipher his intensions. But I don’t have to look back at Harlow to know he’s not relaxed. The shuffle and swish-swish sounds of his invisible wings are their own tell.
“Come here, dryad,” the count says.
And that rubs me the wrong way. In general, it’s very rude to refer to someone by their race. I’m sure if I called him ‘vampire’, he wouldn’t take it well.
“Speak your mind, Everly,” the count says. “Don’t throw faces for me to interpret.”
Wow. Just wow. “Please… please stop snapping at me like a trained dog,” I say, in the nicest way I can.
“Everly,” Harlow hisses.
The count turns his shadowed face. All I can really see is his nose, but it’s enough to tell he’s facing Harlow. “Why are you still here?”
“I’ve delivered the transfer to her host family,” Harlow says. And he’s as emotionless as his last name might imply.
“Very good, now leave,” the count says.
“Not yet,” Harlow answers. “You know the drill.” The count grumbles something I can’t decipher and Harlow starts talking again. “Do you take responsibility for Everly Stillwater? Will you protect her with accordance to the host family laws?”
The count waits a beat before he responds, “I accept all the responsibilities in accordance to host family law for Everly Stillwater. Thank you for collecting and delivering her.” But he doesn’t sound grateful. He sounds angry. “And I do not appreciate you breaching your own contract,” he adds.
“What are you talking about?” Harlow demands.
“I can smell her desire and need as though it were perfume.”
I feel my stomach drop to my toes as humiliation takes a frantic ride inside me.
“So what?” Harlow demands.
“So I am quite certain she did not disembark the train in such a manner. Clearly, you have touched her or otherwise influenced her and you were given strict instructions not to do either.”
“He didn’t touch me,” I lie even though I’m not sure why. I just… the count scares me and I’m not sure if he’ll do something to Harlow? Either way, I need a friend in this place, at least until I figure out how to get back to Arcadia.
There’s silence. Then the count clears his throat. “You can be on your way, Loveless.”
Harlow faces me. “I’ll see you around, Everly.”
Casual. Cool. Like we don’t know each other. Like we didn’t share a moment back there—a very intimate moment. As if what we did was just… food for him. My stupid emotions sting my eyes. “Whatever,” I cast over my shoulder.
Harlow’s boots click on the marble floor as he leaves. The door creaks closed, and the room and my spirits dim. For half a second, there’s only darkness. But within that time, I can feel my spirit wither. This place is frightening.
This place…
I’m in Dread. Land of the dead. Blood for rivers and monsters around every corner. Me, a dryad. Far from home. Far from any forest, tree or meadow. Away from all my power. Away from my mother. Away from the Circle. Away from everything I’ve ever known.
A glow pours down from above, and it’s a godsend. It’s the first warmth that’s touched my skin since I’ve been in Dread. I look up and find a chandelier with arms that span the grand entrance. The hallway must be sixty feet across and forty feet wide, at least as large as a dressage arena. The ceiling is also three stories high. High enough for a monstrosity of a light fixture like this. There must be thousands of candles
