CHAPTER TWOA Splendid NightmareWhen I was eleven, my cousin Amelia visited my family and me at Blackwood Manor. She was only a few years older than I was, so my parents expected me to entertain her.Blackwood Manor was large, filled with paneled walls, embroidered pillows, and all the comforts money could buy. Growing up, I took every inch of it for granted.My favorite room was our expansive library, which contained hundreds of wonderful books. Naturally, when Amelia asked me what there was to do at the manor, a tour of the library was the first thing I suggested.“Are there any math books?” Amelia asked, eyes lighting up in excitement. “I find math ever so much fun!”“I don’t see why there wouldn’t be,” I said, but I’d never felt the need to check. I preferred fairy tales—stories of chivalrous knights, dragons, and princesses whose beauty I hoped to one day possess. I did not share my cousin’s fascination with numbers, but all the same I helped her find the appropriate sectio
CHAPTER THREEThe Morning That Was Not MorningEvery clock inBlackwood Manor claimed that it was ten in the morning. I had servants check each one, and the response was always the same: the clocks were working as they were supposed to. It was ten in the morning, and it was as dark as could be.I told my maid, Candice, to awaken my parents, who were normally quite punctual. When Candice returned, she said, “I am sorry, my lady, but they insist on staying in bed.”I sighed, and headed for my parents’ room to wake them up myself.“Be careful, my lady,” Candice called after me. “Lady Elizabeth is in a pillow-throwing mood, I fear!”There was indeed a pillow on the floor when I entered. After pulling open the drapes, I went to Mother’s side of the bed. “Wake up, Mama.”After a moment, her eyes creaked open. “What? What is it?”“Mama, the sky is black.” I let the fear show in my eyes. I could not show it to the servants, but I could show it to my mother. “It’s ten in the mornin
CHAPTER FOURThe Painted HouseThe stallion tuggedthe coach onward into the night. Inside it I panted, my tired throat stinging with each breath I took. Through the window I watched my old home disappear behind a dark hill.I didn’t know where this coach was taking me, but exhausted as I was, jumping out and running off would do me no good at all. So I stayed, my breath slowing, nausea and numbness setting in like the venom of a snake. I kneaded the skirt of my dress, but could not feel it with my fingers. I couldn’t frown, nor could I smile. My breaths were somehow louder than the horse’s hoof-beats.My family was gone. I would never see them again, live with them again, or be able to hate them again.My hair was sticky and red from blood, and my throat felt like it was being squeezed. Why wasn’t I crying? I felt so empty. I reminded myself that my family would have wanted me to live on, but I felt guilty for having survived—for having escaped my fate when they had not. Had
CHAPTER FIVESuccubus Milk“Excellent,” replied Salem, grinning. “I will send for Lady Rosette Crawford. She is of the Elysian bloodline, a very fine lineage.”I nodded, nervous as could be. I’d made my decision, but that didn’t mean I lacked anxiety.Lady Rosette arrived shortly after, and turned out to be the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. She was tall and slender, with bat-like wings that looked smooth to the touch. Her dark hair was wrapped up into an exquisite bun, crowned by a pair of goat-like horns. She wore a long dress, a tight corset, elbow-length gloves, and an extravagant choker, which draped semicircles of black chains beneath its collar. Resting on the bridge of her nose was a pair of spectacles, masking her brown eyes. An excessively long cigarette holder stabbed out from between her fingers. Purple smoke wafted out from the cigarette’s tip, stinking of perfume.I was not sure whether to fear her or idolize her.“You’re the girl, then?” Her voice was sultry a
CHAPTER SIXLondonHow could I have been so foolish? Of courseit had been Salem that night on the road. He’d started coming to my dreams after I’d shot him. If I’d only been able to think straight, I surely would have realized this ... but between my attraction to him, my fear of death, and my shock over the loss of my family, I’d been too overwhelmed to realize the obvious truth.What had Salem meant to do, that night on the road? Had he come to take Gladys and me by force? He hadn’t needed to, in the end. He’d seduced me effortlessly.It was difficult to not feel weak. I feared I’d betrayed the very memory of my family by becoming a demon that fed through fornication. I told myself that I should have known how lilitu fed; but in the back of my mind, I hadknown, and simply not cared. I wasn’t ready to accept what that said about me.On the other hand, Salem had manipulated me. He could have admitted to attacking us that night, but he had not. He could have
PART IIRenaissanceSeptember, 1876—April, 1877CHAPTER SEVENThe Noble Hatter HumphriesFollowing the Nightfall, a series of pamphlets known as The Immortalist Papers were circulated throughout England under Queen Isabelle’s orders. This first pamphlet was published on September 26th, 1876, only days after the Nightfall began:On the Necessity of the Nightfall, by Rupert WaltersFor centuries, immortals have anticipated an age where they would need not fear the sun. That time has finally arrived.Many of you reading this may be new to immortality, but fret not: I, Rupert Walters, have created these pamphlets to help you adjust to the insularities immortals face in everyday life, from complications of etiquette to the basic workings of your new biology.Shockingly, some newlydeads have expressed confusion as to why the Nightfall was necessary. The answer is that we are currently undergoing an industrial revolution. Firearms are becoming increasingly deadly—some are even capabl
CHAPTER EIGHTThe Pentacle of DreamsI bandaged upMr. Humphries as best I could, even though touching his body was torture. Fortunately, his wounds were not deep, and no bones had been broken. The vampire had been careful not to damage another immortal’s property too severely.Over the following nights, while Mr. Humphries healed, I deteriorated, becoming increasingly lethargic and famished. I did what I could to aid him, providing support for him to stand up and walk, but I grew hungrier every moment I held his body. I wistfully remembered the way Salem had touched me. I even regretted leaving him.One night, as the shop neared its closing hour, Mr. Humphries nodded off, the pain too much for him to endure. With a sigh, I carried him to his bed. But after I’d placed him upon it, I found myself lingering. His dark gold hair looked so soft. Slowly, hesitantly, I reached out and ran a hand through it. It was soft. I let out a quivering breath, feeling tingles spread through my
CHAPTER NINEThe NecropolisMr. Cillian’s officewas unbelievably posh and impossibly clean. Large, open drapes bordered the windows, and the immense oak desk looked as though it had not shed a single splinter. The walls were covered with finely-framed photos of Mr. Cillian shaking hands with famous thespians, grinning jovially at the camera. In the corner of the room, a gramophone blared a fluffy tune.Mr. Cillian sat at his desk, a tarp draped over him from the neck down. A Reaper held a looking glass before Mr. Cillian’s face, which at first glance looked alarmingly tumescent. Then I saw the razor in his hand, and realized the puffiness was from shaving cream. His face was simply so white and pasty that the cream was indistinguishable from it. As he slid the razor down his cheek, it looked as though he was removing a layer of skin.I was made to sit in an armchair in front of his desk. Crude and moth-eaten, my chair felt out of place in the otherwise pristine office. Mr. Ci