“The girl who ran away?” Do not react.
“Precisely,” Walton says.
I swallow, waiting for him to speak, but all he does is tell me about my own powers, and about how I destroyed six old Truebloods in one burst of magic.
“...it ended the entire battle, really. She saved her friend. That girl would have gone places,” Walton says. “The Beaumonts needed to go for what they were doing to the people of this town, and to their own employees, really. They needed to be the prey for once.”
“That sounds cold,” I say, pacing through the trees as we walk back to the mansion.
“It saved our lives. Those old Trueblood friends of Dominic’s would have killed most, if not all of us,” Walton says. “I wish Olivia would come back. She would have trained you well. There's never been a Nightside like her. She's got the potential to change vampire society and make the Truebloods see us as equals, and not slaves.”
“Were you ever a slave?” I blurt, uncomfortable.
Walton gulps, and I know I've taken him into a dangerous stretch of Memory Lane.
“I'm sorry,” I say. “I shouldn't have asked.”
“Servitude blocks a Nightside's ability to use magic. You must believe that you have power in order to use it.” Walton taps his temple. “They take that from Nightsides early and make them think they're second rate. And it usually works. Olivia's father escaped such a situation, from what I hear.”
If only Walton knew how wrong he is. “That's tough, and I'm sorry. I'm glad I found this place.”
The sun's dropping between the trees and the air's cooling, with our breath spiraling in front of our faces. Is Walton making me think he's someone else? This has been easy for me once I've understood what to do. But even staring at him gives me none of that foggy feeling.
We separate for the night, and I go up to my room, one floor down from Riley. And I wait for him to knock. But being the logical, careful one he is, Riley never shows.
I flop down on the bed. Of course, him speaking to me could ruin the entire plan. Riley was reckless before, and now that he's got lives on his shoulders, he's grown up.
I just hope he can grow back down when this is all over. And that he can be that reckless motorcycle riding hottie again.
A knock down at the front door tears me from my thoughts, and I sit up. I've let my guard down and failed to sense whoever was walking up to the front door.
“I'm not answering that,” Stanley says from somewhere below, probably the sitting room. Has he even been training?
I get up and head downstairs, eager to see his reaction. Keeping up the false reality of Miranda, I pull open the front door.
“Hello,” I say, unsure what else to do, because the young woman at the door is a Trueblood. She's got auburn hair combed to one side, and a copper ring around each pupil. I smell faint perfume and clay makeup. This girl can't be much older than me, and her checkered skirt and gray sweater make her look like she's come right out of the same Rich Kid Academy that Stella must run in her spare time.
“I'm Kimberly, and I'm here from the High Council to deliver a message,” she says, handing me a tan envelope sealed with wax.
“Thank you,” I say with a small bow. A message in an envelope can't be as severe as the dreaded in-person visit. “It's much appreciated. I'll hand this to the coven master right now.”
“Are you a human or a Nightside?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. Her fingers splay out on the envelope. She's got a strange innocence and despite being a Trueblood, this girl is nothing like Addie.
“I'm a Nightside. New,” I say.
“Oh, that's so cool. I've never met one before,” she says. “Here you go, and I hope to see you at the Convening.” Kimberly hands me an envelope and bounds back to the black sedan she arrived in.
I stand there, stunned at the exchange.
Kimberly's like Riley. She's not a monster.
“See? Not all Truebloods are terrible. Most are products of their covens,” Riley hisses behind me.
I jump as the girl drives away. This is the closest we've stood since returning from Shacklesburg.
“Riley,” I breathe.
“I can't wait to see you again,” he says with a grin. “Soon. We're going to make it. I know it.” He rests his chin on my shoulder.
How can I pull away? “Charm them. I know you can, because you did me.”
And then Riley pulls away, checking the entryway. “You're doing well. Now try manipulating the other Nightsides. Quietly, of course.”
I hand him the letter, and he opens it and nods. “It's a Convening reminder. Official notice. And we're meeting at the Rose Convention Center in Washington state, starting at eight P.M. Social time is from eight to one A.M. Dinner and dance starts at one-thirty. And voting,” he says, pausing, “will be at three A.M, February sixteenth.”
Footsteps march out of the sitting room, and Stanley emerges into the entryway. “Is that about the Convening?”
I balk at how close this was and make sure he still sees me as Miranda. “I had to answer the door, because you said someone else should get it?”
Riley narrows his eyes at the gray-eyed man. “You must act the part of a servant until the Convening is over. And you have not.” Suspicion hangs off his words.
I'm glad we've broken apart in time. Riley just took a risk.
Stanley shrugs, all cool. “I didn't know it was someone from the High Council. That girl was young and didn't look like she's ever been in charge of anything.”
“Stanley,” Riley says. “Answer the door if they knock. That's the rules. Or we could land in serious trouble.”
“So are you saying,” Stanley says, “that even if they look harmless, they could end us?”
I shudder.
Look harmless.
Is he onto me?
