Hupotasso (Vampire Bachelor Games #2)

11

11

After Falcon’s mother leaves I count to one hundred to be sure she’s gone before trying the door. I don’t know if it was by design, or by accident, but I was right in thinking she hadn’t locked it.

I half expect there to be guards outside, but no. The long, dark, carpeted hallway is completely empty at this time of day.

‘Probably all asleep in their coffins.’

Stepping out, I frown. There are doors on either side running the length of the hall. At the very end is a stairwell.

I haven’t thought through yet how I’ll go about getting off this estate if I manage to get out of the castle. I haven’t really thought about anything other than getting out of my room. But I need to start thinking now, and fast. It’s not lost on me that I made a colossal mistake in staying in The Games for Falcon. In the past I might have suffered in silence and kept optimistic that things would get better, like I did with my job for so many years. But I’ve changed — witnessing death almost on a daily basis will do that to a person. I have no intention of staying around and trying to win him over, or waiting for him to kill me.

Knocking on the first door opposite mine I wait for a minute before trying the handle and finding it’s another unlocked bedroom. The few pieces of furniture in evidence are covered in white sheets. It looks like the world’s creepiest hotel room.

The next door, and the door after that, are all the same. But the last door on this floor opens into a small sitting room featuring a larger window than the other rooms.

Stepping inside I close the door behind me and walk to the window. It’s later than I thought, maybe late afternoon, or maybe the dull English sky always looks like this, I don’t know. Frowning, I consider the view. This room overlooks the back of the castle grounds.I can see the trade entrance, what I assume are stables and staff quarters, and the forest beyond. The only reason I think it’s the trade entrance is because it’s not the same way I came in either time to the castle, and I can see a row of white trucks parked in the parking bays.

Even though this window is big enough for me to smash and get through, unlike my own window, I’m several storeys up and I know it’s too high to be a possible escape route. Still, this direction might afford more opportunities than trying to walk out the front door.

‘But how on earth will I get down there?’

Turning, I pull the first sheet from the nearest piece of furniture. It’s a red velvet couch. It looks squishy and comfortable, unlike the utilitarian furniture in the rest of the rooms I’ve explored so far. Although I’m on edge, having no idea how long I have to explore before I’m discovered, I pause to sit on the couch and stare at my surroundings as I consider my options.

There’s art on the walls in this room, rural idyllic scenes, and the fireplace surround is carved beautifully and accentuated by a large gilt mirror. It’s too high for me, sitting where I am, to have to worry about my reflection. I’m sure I still look a fright, scurrying around wrapped in a sheet, hair disgustingly unbrushed and make-up smudged. I’d change if I could, but I have no clothes other than my wedding dress, and none of my personal effects. I can’t even avail myself of the bath because I have no towels, and the maids are not responding to my ringing of the bell.

I hope I’ll find a wardrobe crammed with clothes when I investigate the empty bedrooms in more detail. It’s clear this isn’t a bedroom, I can just make out what the rest of the furniture is, despite the shrouds. There’s a small desk near the window, an occasional table with four chairs, more chairs fronting the fire, and a long side table against one wall.

I wonder if perhaps there might be an old landline phone somewhere.

Rising, I pull off all the sheets and nod as I find my furniture guesses are correct. The only thing I hadn’t guessed correctly was a small pianoforte hidden behind what I’d assumed was a changing screen but was obviously just a small room divider.

This is, as far as rooms go, very comfortable, and it feels like it was used mostly by a woman, although I don’t know why I think this. I expect it’s because I don’t imagine a man playing the pianoforte. I briefly consider hiding here but cast that aside immediately. Without clothing, food or water, I wouldn’t last long, and I’d still be in the same position of having no way to get out.

‘There’s nothing in this room to use as a weapon or disguise which would help me get out of this place. And no phone. I need to keep searching.’

Turning, I prepare to leave, but gasp as I open the door and virtually bump into a small blonde woman in the hallway.

“Lady Dragonspur, forgive me,” she curtsies. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Although she curtsies low, the woman before me is clearly royal. Her skin is almost translucent, and her golden hair, cut in a short, stylish bob, is highlighted to perfection. She’s smaller than me in height and stature, but despite this I feel an instantaneous tingle of fear in her presence.

I’ve never met a female vampire before. I’ve seen them on television and in magazines, of course, but meeting one is entirely different. She makes the male vampires I’ve met seem almost tame. There’s a sharp, vicious kind of undercurrent to her that I can’t explain.

“Who are you?” I blurt, clutching the sheet tighter to my chest.

“I’m Caroline Chessham. I’m to be your companion. I looked for you in your bedroom, but I might have known you’d prefer this drawing room. It has a much nicer aspect, does it not?”

“Companion?”

“Yes,” she nods, “I’ll help you with your wardrobe and fittings this evening and accompany you on your trip. I’m here to make life easier for you in every way I can.”

I frown.

“So, you’re my maid?”

She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“I’m your companion.”

I test the word on my tongue. I know royals are normally accompanied everywhere they go by security, and nearly always pictured with ‘friends,’ but is this what she means? Has she been hired to be a friend for me?

‘Or a warden?’

Something doesn’t sit right about her or her newly announced role, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.

“So,” I press, “are you just going to follow me around? Or have you been hired to do anything I ask?”

“I’m here to help you any way I can,” she smiles.

‘She smiles too much.’

“Then I’d like to use your phone,” I smile back.

‘Two can play at this game.’

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”

“Why?”

“No one is permitted technology once they enter the castle grounds. It’s for your security and privacy.”

“Yeah, sure,” I scowl. “Tell me this, Caroline , if I told you I don’t want you. If I said I don’t want a companion, would you leave?”

“I’m Lord Falcon’s third cousin removed,” she smiles again, “it’s my honour and pleasure to serve you.”

“Just as I thought,” I snap, brushing past her and striding down the hall towards my bare cell.

When I reach it I slam the door in her face.

A few seconds later she knocks perfunctorily and enters without permission.

“I really am sorry if I’ve done or said anything to offend you,” she says quietly as she walks towards where I stand, staring out the window, rage at my predicament blinding me with tears. “This is not at all how I hoped our introduction would go.”

“Just fuck off, please,” I whisper. “Isn’t it enough that I’m a prisoner?”

“My lady,” she says gently, “you are no prisoner. You and I are about to travel the world.”

I grit my teeth and turn to her.

“And how do you imagine I’m going to do that if I have no clothes, no personal effects and no idea where I’m going or what the hell I’m supposed to do when I get there?”

“That’s what I’m for,” she smiles again. “Later I’ll escort you to the ballroom where many of the world’s best designers have set up racks of clothes for you to choose from. There’s no limit,” her eyes twinkle, “no expense is spared. You can choose everything you need from the bedroom to the ballroom. You can think of it as your own private royal boutique. Then there’s your jewellery and shoes to choose… such fun.”

I raise my eyebrows. It’s not lost on me that they don’t want me shopping in the real world or dealing with people. God forbid I should start screaming and begging to be saved.

“You’ll wear the traditional garb of each of the cultures you visit, but haute couture while travelling. I’ll guide you in your choices, of course,” she adds.

“Of course,” I snap.

“In the meantime, have a bath. I understand you’ve consummated your marriage — when was your last period?”

“That’s none of your fucking business!”

“I’ll send a maid with towels and a comfortable change of clothes for you,” she goes on as if I hadn’t spoken, and as if she hadn’t just shocked me by asking something intensely personal. “A hair stylist will also visit.”

I watch as she walks to the wall and rings the bell for the maid.

“I’ll also send up the itinerary for our trip and the protocols you’ll follow.”

“Protocols you hope I’ll follow.”

She turns to me and smiles.

“Oh, you’ll follow them,” she allows her fangs to descend ever so slightly. “I’m sure we’re going to become such firm friends, your ladyship.”

“You are very much mistaken about that,” I growl.

Without another word she leaves.

I hear the key turn in the lock before she walks away.