Chapter 7

The housekeeper shook her head, her eyes rimmed red. "Miss Alice never came back at all."

Silas frowned, a note of unease creeping into his voice that he himself didn't recognize. "It's been over a week. Tomorrow's the Full Moon Festival-how could she not be back?"

The housekeeper had served the castle for many years and had always doted on me. She replied coolly: "I wouldn't know. After all, hasn't the lady of this house already been replaced?"

Silas was about to press further.

But Elena rolled her eyes with evident irritation, latched onto Silas's arm like taffy, and wheedled: "Oh, she'll come back eventually. Don't worry about her. Come look at this poetry collection I just bought-you have to read it to me tonight."

Silas felt a surge of inexplicable frustration. He recalled how Elena had mentioned my name in the Caribbean with barely concealed disdain. Now I'd been missing for over a week, and there wasn't the faintest hint of concern in her eyes. All those syrupy calls of "sister"-how many had ever been sincere?

The housekeeper retreated to the kitchen, muttering under her breath: "If the masters don't care about the young miss, why bother pretending to ask about her now?"

Those words were like poison-tipped silver needles driving into Silas's heart.

Elena was still complaining in that small voice: "She's a grown woman. It's not like she can just get lost."

A nameless fury ignited from deep within him. Silas wrenched his arm free. Without a word, his face like stone, he walked upstairs.

Behind him, Elena let out an exaggerated wail: "Did I say something wrong? You won't read to me anymore?"

Silas didn't look back. He left behind a single, icy sentence: "You're fifteen. Can you not read?"

Elena's aggrieved sobbing immediately filled the hall. Once upon a time, Silas would have turned around to console her in an instant. One teardrop from her and he'd give her anything she wanted. He'd always believed that failing to be kind to Elena was tantamount to betraying our dead parents-betraying the hero who'd tried to save them in the blast. He'd placed Elena on a pedestal, showered her with extravagant favoritism, and told himself it was repaying a debt.

But what about me? I was his real little sister.

Silas walked to the second floor and stopped at my bedroom door. He pushed it open and found it bare. Even the faint scent of cold fir that had always been mine had vanished.

He stepped inside and looked around. Only now did it hit him-I'd taken so many of my belongings with me.

A violent wave of unease crashed over him, like a hand closing slowly around his throat. He sank into the sofa and scrolled through his phone-through the entire contact list-searching for missed calls or messages from me.

My social media was silent. Not a single post.

Dead silence.

Where had I gone?

Julian walked in then, his face alarmingly pale. He'd clearly noticed something was wrong too.

"Can't reach her?" Julian's voice wavered.

They exchanged one look, then finally summoned the courage to dial the number that made every vampire tremble-the Vampire King's private line.

The phone rang three times before the King's deep, pressure-laden voice came through.

Silas held his breath and spoke with desperate humility. "Your Majesty? forgive the intrusion. I wanted to ask-is Alice with you, receiving the First Embrace? She hasn't been home in days?"

Dead silence on the other end. Then, after an eternity, the King let out a cold, derisive laugh. His voice was glacial:

"You mean you don't know she's already joined the century-long isolation research project?"

Silas and Julian went rigid, as if struck by lightning.

"Project?" Julian seized the phone, shaking. "But she-she was supposed to still be undergoing your transformation. She's so frail, how could she possibly-"

"Frail?"

The King's voice was laced with undisguised scorn and admiration:

"She is the most resilient, most gifted vampire I have ever seen. Three days after her transformation, she volunteered to enter the isolation zone and begin her research."

"For the next hundred years, unless the research succeeds, no one will see her."

"Isn't this what you pushed her into? Coming to ask now-don't you think it's a little late?"

The phone slipped from Silas's hand and landed on the expensive carpet with a dull thud.

Silas and Julian sat slumped in my empty room, staring at the blood-red moon through the window, like two children who'd lost their entire world, letting out howls of near-total despair.