To Vanquish Darkness (Le Sombre #1)

Chapter 15

15

1836 NORTHERN NORMANDY, FRANCE

A malie woke with a start, nearly ripping a page from the book she'd been reading. She peeled the paper from her cheek and straightened. Her brain moved slow like molasses as she stretched her arms over her head. She turned and scanned the room. Light poured through the windows stretching toward the domed ceiling. It had to be mid-to-late afternoon.

Though her eyes felt like they'd been scrubbed with sand, her mind raced. She couldn’t afford any more sleep. She turned, and her gaze settled on another tray. Henriette had been there. Amalie walked to the nightstand. There was a ham and cheese sandwich with a ripe apricot.

She picked the fruit up, feeling the velvet skin against her palm, and held it to her nose. The scent was sweet. Amalie sat on the bed and devoured it. It couldn’t have been long since her breakfast in the washroom, but she was starving.

When she finished with her meal, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and padded back to the table, her fingers brushing the spines of the books stacked in neat piles. She pulled out a few leather-bound volumes, flipping through the pages and scanning the titles. Le Savoir des Vampires , Vampiric Lore. Les Gardiens de la Lumière , The Guardians of the Light. La Fracture et le Sombre , The Shattering and the Shadow.

She flipped through the pages of the first book that claimed to hold the legends of the guardians, skimming passages. She found nothing different than what she'd been taught as a child. The guardians were stronger, faster, and more resilient than ordinary humans. Heroes.

Amalie scoffed and flipped to the middle. It is believed their blood has regenerative properties. That, at least, seemed closer to the truth. But the book didn't talk about their blood being used to satiate a vampire's thirst. The guardians in the books didn't bow to vampires, they held them back. They were a military wall protecting humans from shadow. Exactly what she’d always hoped for.

She closed the book and picked up another. Methods of killing vampires. Much more her speed, though she now knew all of it was nonsense. Well, not all of it. She only had proof that a stake hadn't killed Theo, though that was enough to breed doubt in everything else she’d been taught.

It was a strange feeling. Watching the foundational truths she’d built her life around crumble. It was even stranger to construct a new reality based on the words of her enemy. She wanted to strip her life bare and start with a blank slate. But how could she fill it? There was nobody left whom she trusted to guide her. She wasn’t even sure she trusted herself.

Amalie spent hours poring over the texts, her fingers flipping through pages and her eyes scanning the words. She jotted down notes in the margins, her pen scratching against the parchment. The light outside the window shifted as the sun dipped lower in the sky.

Amalie shifted in her seat, her muscles stiff from sitting for so long. She rolled her shoulders, her joints popping. There were hundreds of references to relics, and even narrowing her search to swords didn’t help much. There were still too many references to count.

With a groan, she strode to the bed and flopped onto the mattress, then pulled her knees to her chest and ran her fingers over her blistered feet. They were inflamed and sore, possibly worse that morning than they had been the night before.

Amalie thought back to the moments preceding her bath. Had it only been hours before that her entire life had flipped on its head?

When Theo was there in front of her, the story he told made sense. But now, staring at the cherubs and clouds swirled in paint on the ceiling, nothing did. How had she allowed herself to be fooled and lured here? She should have demanded answers in Mordelles. She could have gone home—she could have stayed with Olivie and Marcel.

Even as she thought it, that assumption fell flat. Staying wouldn’t have brought her any closer to helping the Pourfendeurs, and besides, she hadn’t been in a position to demand anything. Not when she thought she was being acted on by forces beyond her mortal control. Theo had allowed her to believe that, and maybe he was only spinning another story now.

Amalie buried her face in the down pillows. If Theo was to be believed, not only had her family lied about vampires, they’d lied about their own heritage from the gods. Oren had lied about the injections he gave, but why? If the gods had granted this gift for humans and vampires alike, why were they in hiding? Why did they allow other humans to die when their blood could bridge the gap?

Amalie rolled, staring again at the vignettes above her. She didn't know if Theo was drawing her into his web, but she had proof he'd been honest about two things. The stake to his heart hadn't killed him. His bite hadn’t killed her. Whether his explanations for both were honest, she had yet to judge.

Amalie sat up and pulled out her disheveled plait, then ran her fingers through her hair. When it was smooth, she wove it back into a tight braid. If only she had pins to hold back the curls around her ears .

Her eyes landed on a set of carved boxes on the polished dresser. All the furniture in the room was delicate. Thin legs that curved into patterns of inlaid wood. She wondered who had lived here before Theo and his coven.

His coven. That's what he'd called it. Had he only meant that he belonged to it? From the way his friends reacted to him, she doubted it. Theo was important to them, but she had yet to figure out why.

Amalie lifted the top off the first box and found an array of hairpins. Perfect. She put two in place then repositioned the lid and lifted the top to the second box. She sucked in a breath as ice slid down her spine.

There was a strip of azure fabric curled at the bottom, marked with intricate white shapes. Swans. She'd only ever seen that pattern once before in her life.

On her mother's favorite dress.

Amalie ran to the door and burst into the hall, gasping for breath with the strip of fabric curled in her fingers. She stumbled to Theo's door and raised a hand to knock, then hesitated. What would she say to him? That this was fabric her mother used to wear? That she'd found it in his castle?

Theo was gone. She sucked in a breath and stepped back from the door. He was gone, and even if he were there, she had no proof that it belonged to her mother. There had to be hundreds of women who owned pieces of clothing in that print, and Theo would likely tell her as much.

Amalie whirled, retracing her steps and stopping in front of her door. What did it matter even if it was her mother’s? She already believed he’d killed her, so what more did this tie prove? That he’d brought her here? That he’d done to her exactly what he was doing to her now?

She needed more information, and she needed to find it herself. Not from Theo's silver tongue or her uncle's guarded one. She couldn't believe what either of them said because, for reasons she didn’t understand, even Oren was hiding things.

Amalie needed to find proof, and she needed to see it with her own eyes. She turned to face the empty hall. The vampires would most likely be sleeping. What Theo didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

She crept forward and tied the swan fabric around her neck. Theo had led her by the neck to cover proof of his bite. Though the marks were fading, she'd be stupid to walk around with it showing now.

Theo had also said her blood was masked. As long as she didn’t cut herself, there would be no reason for any vampire to be suspicious of her, especially not when Theo had made it clear that she was his. Amalie shivered at that, disgusted that she’d gone along with his suggestion.

Colors splashed across the floor from the oval stained glass that faced the sun on the other end of the hall. Though she’d walked here with Theo, she’d been distracted and didn’t remember which direction they’d come from the front steps.

Left. She didn’t question it and turned right instead. The castle was eerily silent, and Amalie wished for gusts of wind against the walls to hide the brush of her sore feet against the stone floors. At least one piece of the legends seemed to be true.

She came to what looked like an open common room and paused in an alcove, craning her neck to see if it was empty. She waited and listened. When she was sure she heard nothing, she peeled herself off the stone and padded forward, keeping to the wall as she entered the room.

The room was so large, it made the furniture seem sparse. Tapestries hung on the wall, freshly cut firewood sat stacked next to the hearth, and an array of canapes and chaises were available for seating. It was informal but cozy.

Her eyes snagged on a bookshelf along the back wall. She strode forward, feeling more exposed than a deer in the middle of a clearing. Her pulse quickened as she began to read the titles. Le Comte de Monte-Cristo. Madame Bovary. La Chartreuse de Parme. They seemed to be fiction, mostly, along with maps and encyclopedias. She crouched to look at the next row, when a gasp sounded behind her.

Amalie whipped around, then released a breath when she saw Henriette staring at her.

“Oh, Miss Amalie. I thought—I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.” Henriette bobbed and walked with purpose toward the fireplace. “Just ‘ere to warm the room.”

Amalie clasped her hands in front of her, still working to settle her heart. “Do you do this in every room?” As soon as she asked the question, she remembered what Henriette had told her as she drew her bath. “But only in this wing?”

Henriette smiled. “Yes. I have seven fires I start in common areas and six more in the bedrooms. I’ll start yours in just a few moments.”

Amalie blinked. There were that many rooms in one wing of the castle? “Thank you.”

Henriette stacked another log and looked up. “I don’t mean to be rude, but Master Vallon told me you shouldn’t leave your room . . .”

“I know. I was just—I needed to stretch my legs.” Amalie gave a small smile.

Henriette’s eyes flicked to the books she’d been inspecting. “Do you need more? I can find more titles if you tell me what you’re interested in reading.”

Amalie laughed. “No, I haven’t even gotten through the ones in my room.”

Henriette nodded. “Then I would listen to Master Vallon. He knows the house best.” Her eyes dropped, and she resumed her task.

The house or the creatures in it?

“Right.” Amalie pursed her lips. “But if I wanted to take a quick peek at the library?”

Henriette frowned. “It’s too far, miss. In the east wing.”

East. Her room was in the north. “So this hall, I’d have to follow it from here to the right?”

“Yes, at first. Then down the steps and back to the left.” Henriette looked up. Her eyes wide. “But don’t tell Master Vallon I told you that.”

Amalie smiled. “Of course not. I was just curious. I’m sure he would’ve told me had I thought to ask.”

“When you’re ready, make a list and I’ll gather more books.” Henriette nodded as if convincing herself that Amalie was going to be perfectly obedient.

“I will. Thank you.” She turned and strode back to the hall, her face flushed. She’d hoped to walk more than twenty paces before being caught by the woman drawing her baths, but at least now she had direction.

Light still poured through the window. She had time, didn’t she?

Amalie hurried down the hall, pausing at every archway before hustling on. She passed four closed doors, and each of them bore Theo’s signet. A bit heavy handed.

A small stairwell leading to a higher floor, a parlor, a small passage leading to a terrace, and two hallways before she finally made it to the wide stone steps that swirled downward. She put her hand on the center stone column and began to wind her way down.

Down the steps and back to the left. It wasn’t that far from her room, though the idea of making her way back made her stomach flip.

She’d be quick. She only wanted to see?—

Amalie saw stars as she slammed into something solid. Her heel slipped on the step and she fell back, landing hard on her bottom. She flattened her palms on the stone to make sure she was steady before glancing up.

A man. Not a man. A vampire stood in front of her. His hair was thick and fell in waves across his forehead. His eyes a startling green. Amalie’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of them. They were so close to the color of Bethany’s eyes, it was eerie.

His glamour trickled through her. Cold. Like mist. Though the same calm washed over her, there wasn’t any warmth. The knowledge that she already knew Theo by feel filtered through her in layers.

Amalie blinked. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching.” She lifted her hands, searching for any sign that she’d broken the skin. Stupid. She’d been careless to leave her room, to risk herself like this.

“Well, neither was I.” He reached out a hand, but Amalie didn’t take it. He observed her as she rose from the stone. “I’m Marx. Your master wouldn't approve of you touching another?"

Amalie pursed her lips. She hadn't seen this man in the street when they'd arrived, but he had to be a part of the coven. Why was he awake and walking the halls when everyone else seemed to sleep? "I have no master."

She regretted it the instant the words came out of her mouth. She stood mere feet in front of a vampire. Less than a day ago, that would have filled her with fear so thick she would've run. Or thrown up. Or possibly both. Now her desperation to gain some semblance of control was dangerous. After hearing Theo’s explanation of her bloodline, shouldn’t she have felt more trepidation, not less?

Marx's smile widened. "A guest. You arrived with Theo?"

Amalie worked to keep her expression blank. "A bold assumption."

"But a correct one." Marx shoved a hand in his pocket. "It's exactly like him to force others to keep his rules."

Enemy then. Though Amalie wasn’t sure if that made him her accomplice or if her list of threats had just grown longer. “Well. It was nice to meet you.” Amalie took a step back on the staircase and turned, but before she could climb, he was there in front of her. She jolted, and he caught onto her arm to keep her from tumbling down the stairs.

Marx assessed her. "I am curious."

Amalie tried to pull her arm free, but he held firm. "About what?"

"Why you aren't warming his bed." Marx’s lips curled, and Amalie’s breath caught. There was something there—something familiar. She’d never seen this vampire before in her life, and yet the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled?—

She blinked. It was his damn glamour. She needed to keep her wits.

Amalie planted her hands on her hips, her temper flaring. No one had ever been so bold to discuss what happened or didn’t happen in her bedroom. Then, as she stared at Marx, Amalie almost laughed out loud. Of all the events of that night, that was what offended her sensibilities? "We had a long journey. He needed rest."

She didn’t want to tell him Theo was away from the castle. In case that gave him . . . permission.

"Ah." Marx chuckled, his eyes traveling down her torso, lingering too long on her hips. "Theo does like his rest. It is rare, though. For his pets to be wandering alone through these halls."

"Is it not rare for one of his coven to be awake before sunset?" Amalie didn't understand the game she was playing. What did Marx want with her? Why wouldn’t he let her leave?

Marx shrugged, finally releasing his grip. "Perhaps I also have no master. Certainly not Theo.”

Amalie nodded, sliding along the step and pressing against the other side of the stairwell, then hurried back up the stairs.

When she reached the top, she pressed her back against the wall and sucked in a ragged breath. She needed to get back to her room. She’d been lucky, but she wasn’t going to push it.

Amalie d’Acier. She could do this.

Amalie forced air into her lungs, then started back down the long hall. She passed the path to the terrace, the stairwell, and two of the empty halls, but when she paused at the archway to a common room, she heard voices. Female voices. Laughter. It was coming from the parlor.

"The apricot cake was divine. You may get to try it tonight. I had it the first night I was here, and Ramon promised a repeat."

"Three nights?" A second voice sighed. "This has already been the best day of my life."

Amalie chanced a look. There, sitting on embroidered armchairs in a room with windows overlooking the sea at high tide, were two of the women she'd seen clinging to the vampire Theo had called Etienne in the courtyard. They were giggling, their heads thrown back as they whispered to each other. They were alive.

They were also facing the hall. There was no way she could cross without being spotted.

A third woman stepped into the frame, her hair a riot of red curls, her skin so pale it was almost translucent. She was draped in a gown that looked like it belonged in a painting from the Renaissance. The fabric clung to her curves, the neckline plunging dangerously low.

Amalie's stomach churned. Had she been the one talking? Had she already lived here three nights?

Perhaps if she moved quickly, purposefully, they wouldn’t be able to stop her.

She was about to straighten and skitter across the open archway when two men crossed behind the chairs. One with his hair shaved close to his scalp. He wore a tunic and breeches that accentuated the well-formed muscles in his arms and legs. The other had fair hair, almost white. He was taller, his frame lean. Who did they all belong to?

"Excuse me, but who are you and why are you spying on us from the hall?"