Revelations (Belle Morte Book 2)

Chapter Six

Renie

I didn't join the Council when they went to feed. I knew I had already drunk blood – Edmond's when he made me a vampire, and the blood of whichever donors had helped me through the turn – but it was something I couldn't bear to think about.

I hadn't meant what I said to Edmond about being a monster, but I couldn't quite face the full reality of the situation yet. It was too much.

So while the Council busied themselves with the donors, I found myself heading into the ballroom.

The last time I had been in this room, it had been a sea of blood and bodies; gore painting the marble floor and forming macabre patterns on the panelled walls. Not a trace of that carnage remained. The ballroom was a simply a grand room with a marble-laid floor and crystal chandeliers gracing the ceiling. There was no sign that it had ever been the scene for anything but harmless dancing.

But the slaughter I had seen here was something I would never forget. Even though the blood had been cleaned up, I could still smell traces of it, faint hints drifting from the floor and walls.

I still didn't know who had survived that night, and I couldn't bring myself to ask. That would mean approaching one of the other vampires and I didn't know how to do that. What if they hated me for what had happened? Some vampires had a definite sense of superiority, and donors were considered beneath them. How would they react now that one of those lowly donors had become one of them?

Maybe I was overreacting – maybe they wouldn't care what had happened. But I couldn't shake the fear that they would somehow see me as a usurper, an imposter. I couldn't shake the fear that they would turn on me.

Even if they didn't, what if they blamed me for what was happening to Edmond? Not that I was entirely clear what that was, but Edmond had lived with these vampires for years. He knew them, was friends with them. Then I had come along and ruined everything. Of course it wasn't as black and white as that, but some people might still see it that way.

There could be a lot more to living as a vampire than just adjusting to drinking blood and staying out of the sunlight.

I left the ballroom, drifting aimlessly through the now empty dining hall. Maybe I should head into the donors' wing so I could see Roux and Jason. With renewed determination, I headed for the main staircase, but just before the vestibule I stopped.

Dexter was there with his security personnel, and Isabeau stood in the midst of them, her head held high. But her posture didn't hide the glitter of fear in her eyes. Isabeau knew better than I did what the Council were capable of, and she knew that no one was going to save her from whatever they wanted to do.

How did the Council interrogate suspects? Did they use torture?

Vampires had already proved they clung to a more archaic sense of justice when they publicly whipped Edmond, so I didn't find it too hard to believe they would revert to the days of torturing victims to get them to confess. I didn't want to believe that Ysanne would hand over someone she cared about to that kind of treatment, but I couldn't assume she wouldn't. She was ruthless when she needed to be.

"Just a moment, Flynn," Ysanne said, sweeping down the stairs.

I ducked out of view, pressing myself against the wall and peeping around the entryway. Was Ysanne about to free Isabeau, regardless of the Council's wishes? That seemed like the right thing to do, but for the first time I felt a pang of doubt. What would happen if Ysanne flouted the Council? The balance between the vampires Houses was already on seriously rocky ground, and if Ysanne deliberately went against them on this, it could shatter the Council relationships altogether. My limited knowledge of vampire politics meant I didn't know what that would mean for anyone, but I couldn't imagine it was anything good.