House of Pawns Read online

  But now, my toes rest at the edge of a hole. The earth mounds upward. It avalanches back toward a narrow opening and splinters of wood and chunks of cement are mixed in it.

  This is a still and eerie place.

  Ian has always been strong. His will is fierce. He’s stubborn as hell.

  Even death and a grave could not hold him.

  The sound of a car on the road draws my eyes up. And suddenly, my blood goes cold.

  Assuming Ian came straight to the Conrath Estate after he resurrected and crawled out of his grave, approximately nine hours have passed.

  This sight of Ian’s grave is terrifying. I try to think of another explanation for what someone else would see here, and there isn’t one. Someone crawled out of this grave. In this town, most people will know exactly what happened.

  In the past few weeks, people have been shot and arrested for their fear of the vampires. The mayor’s own wife has been Bitten and is on the loose. If people see this grave, I can only imagine the terror that will increase in this town.

  I crouch to the earth, and begin shoving the piles of it back into the hole.

  I didn’t bring a shovel. But this can’t wait a second longer.

  Dirt stains my hands, freezes my fingers. There are streaks of it all over my jeans, caking the sleeves of my coat.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  My heart leaps into my throat and I whip around.

  Sheriff Luke McCoy stands five yards behind me, hands on his hips, a look of confusion and horror on his face.

  I don’t have an answer for him, so I go back to my task.

  “Alivia.” I hear him walking toward me. “What are you doing, and why does it look like someone crawled out of that grave?”

  “Because someone did,” I huff. My hands are numb now, making it difficult to maneuver the dirt. Thankfully, it’s still freshly turned enough that it’s not packed yet.

  “And who might that have been?” he asks and his voice hardens with each syllable.

  “Circumstances change people, you understand that, right?” I’ve got the hole half filled back in.

  “What are you talking about?” Sheriff McCoy, now that he’s caught on to what this hole means and its implications, joins me in filling it.

  “I told you a few months back that I was a good person. That I wanted nothing to do with the House.” My lungs burn from the effort of breathing hard in this cold air. “But circumstances change people.”

  “What happened, Alivia?” he demands.

  “I got involved with Ian Ward,” I huff. I stop suddenly. I rest on my knees and wipe the stray hairs from my face. My eyes lock on Luke’s. “I knew it wasn’t wise and that bad things could only come from it, but I did it anyway and he did, too. Five days ago, Jasmine Voltera drove a sword through his stomach, right in front of me.”

  “Wha—” he starts, but I cut him off.

  “I’m not finished,” I say, holding a hand up and trying to be calm and patient. “She was going to let Micah kill Ian that night and I panicked. I went to the House instead and told Jasmine that I wanted them to kill me so I would resurrect. I was trying to distract them. Instead, they captured Ian, brought him for me to feed on, and it all went to hell.”

  My throat feels tight. It’s hard to breathe as I recall how much blood rushed out of his body like a river.

  “I wanted revenge,” I say with a hard edge. “I began plotting to take from her what she loves most, and that is the House.”

  “Revenge is a dangerous dance when your partner is Jasmine and her House of pawns,” Luke warns.

  “I am fully aware of that,” I respond as my eyes rise to meet his again. “But then Ian showed up at my house last night. Thirsty. His eyes glowing red. Fully resurrected.”

  “Ian?” Luke repeats in disbelief. “Ian Ward is a Born?”

  “Apparently.” I resume shoveling the dirt back into place with my bare hands.

  Sheriff McCoy swears under his breath. “Just what this town needs, another Born.”

  My instincts take over. I reach out and slap Luke. “Don’t go and act like this is his fault,” I seethe. “Ian has done nothing but protect this town from vampires for the majority of his life. You didn’t see him when he came to my house. The self-loathing in his eyes after he had to drink his first meal.”

  Luke stares at me, his eyes hard. The cold air makes the red handprint on his cheek, smudged with dirt, rise quickly. “I can’t pretend to have sympathy for him. But I do trust Rath to keep him under control or put him down.”

  I swallow hard, and my eyes drop away from Luke’s.

  “Did you bring someone here with you?”

  The alertness in Luke’s voice instantly triggers all the alarms in me. “No,” I breathe as I look around. “Why?”

  “I just saw someone,” he says, pointing toward the tree line at the far edge of the cemetery. “Over there. He was definitely watching us.”

  “You didn’t recognize who it was?” I ask. I’m instantly on my feet.

  Luke shakes his head.

  “And you’re sure it wasn’t one of the House members?” I reach into my pocket and wrap my dirty hands around a stake. I have a crossbow in the car, but it’s thirty yards away.

  “I’m sure,” Luke breathes. He has his hand rested on the gun at his hip. “He disappeared as soon as I saw him.”

  My eyes scan the trees, sweep the headstones. But I don’t see anyone.

  “I’d be very careful,” Luke whispers. “I think you’re being followed, Alivia.”

  THE SHERIFF AND I PART WAYS.

  And after he walks me back to my car and I pull away, I feel as if there are eyes following me.

  If someone really is watching me from the shadows, one: who is it, and two: what do they want? Luke could be mistaken; maybe it was someone from the House. Watching to see how I react to what Jasmine did, or how I’m coming along in my plots of revenge.

  But if it isn’t, who could it be? Whoever has been attacking the House? Maybe. But I’m not sure what they want with me.

  I’ll have to discuss this with Rath.

  The gates to the Conrath Estate open to let me through. I pull into the garage and check the time as it closes behind me.

  Eight o’clock.

  The second I walk through the door, I’m flooded with the scent of breakfast. Bacon, eggs, bread, grits—which I’m learning to recognize the smell of.

  I walk around the corner, into the kitchen. Katina flinches so hard the second she sees me that she drops the platter of biscuits she was holding. It clatters to the ground and shatters.

  “I’m sorry,” I say as I rush forward to help her pick up the mess. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  Katina carefully keeps her distance from me and as usual, won’t look at me. But her hands shake violently, more so than usual.

  “Are you alright?” When I say it, I gently grab her wrist in an attempt to get her to look at me.

  A small little yelp works its way out of her throat and she jerks her entire arm away from me. But still, she won’t meet my eyes. “Sorry, Miss Ryan. I just…” But she doesn’t finish the sentence. She hurriedly sweeps the rest of the mess into a pile with her hands and turns to go look for a broom and dustpan.

  I let out a little defeated sigh. I’ll never gain the staffs’ trust. They’re all terrified of me. Why do they even stay if they’re always so fearful? Rath must be paying them all an astronomical salary.

  I’m covered in dirt and it’s getting everywhere. Angelica and Beth will have such a mess to clean up after me. I take my boots off and leave them in the garage and dart up to my room for a shower and fresh change of clothes.

  Avoidance is apparently my coping mechanism today. There are so many things that need addressing—so many questions to ask and so many answers to search for.

  But I just need a second.

  The hot, scalding water works its way down my body. Thick suds build in my hair as I scrub and s
crub, sure I’ll never wash the cocoon of the dead from me.

  When I finish, I stand naked in front of the mirror.

  Bruises, dark and harsh, stand out in perfect handprints on my upper arms where Ian grabbed me. Another perfect shape of his hand wraps around my wrist. I pretend they don’t hurt. I pretend they aren’t there.

  I change into fresh jeans and an oversized sweater.

  I stare at myself while I brush through my long, brunette hair.

  Be the royal that you are.

  So when I’m finished, I walk across my room. But before I get halfway across, I notice something on my bed.

  It’s glossy paper, the photo kind. It’s been cut oddly, and it takes me half a second to realize it’s been cut into a puzzle piece. Centered in the middle of it are both my and Ian’s faces.

  My brows furrow as I try to make sense of what this is. There’s something timid, held back in the way Ian and I are looking at each other. Like we hadn’t consumed each other, like he hadn’t died yet and I hadn’t tried to die for him. We both look more innocent.

  Who put this here?

  A small noise out in the hall calls my attention. I set the puzzle picture on the nightstand. I open the door, and I meet Ian’s gaze.

  He stands at the beginning of the hall, at the landing where the stairs meet the second floor. I’ve caught him on his way to my bedroom, and he freezes in place.

  His eyes no longer glow. They’re once again the familiar hazel-brown. His expression is serious, contemplative. He just looks like my Ian again.

  I see his wrist has healed where Rath staked him.

  Ian takes two steps toward me. They’re slow and cautious. I realize that he’s testing himself. To see if he’s in control.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he says slowly. Three steps—four.

  “I know you won’t.” And I’m not really sure the words are true. Because I’ve seen a vampire snap in bloodlust. But at least I have the comfort of knowing if he does, if he kills me, it will not be the end.

  I should probably be afraid. Death is a serious matter.

  But all I am is grateful.

  My feet move without my permission. I dart down that hall. One bound at a time. My heart gains momentum as I move.

  And then, there is no space between us at all.

  My legs wrap around Ian’s waist and my arms snake behind his neck. My lips crush to his and I suck him in like air and I have been suffocating for days.

  Something wild and not entirely in control escapes Ian in both sound and action. He slams my back into the hall wall in an attempt to eradicate any empty space between the two of us. His lips are wild and demanding. When my tongue slips into his mouth, I feel a sharp prick. His fangs.

  My hands claw at his shirt, something new and fresh, and I pull it up and over his head. Ian’s hands cup my rear end, supporting me and making every nerve in me go wild.

  I’ve heard make up sex is always the best, but I can’t imagine it’s anything compared to resurrection sex. And suddenly, all I can think about is the king-sized bed in my room and Ian in it.

  A sharp pain suddenly blooms on my lip and I taste something coppery in my mouth.

  And in an instant, Ian is down the hall with his back pressed flat against the wall.

  His eyes glow.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Liv,” he growls through heavy breathing.

  I can tell my eyes are wide. My chest heaves quickly. But despite my bleeding lip, I want more. “We’ll figure this out. It might take some time.”

  “I won’t be responsible for your resurrection,” he says, and it’s pained and angry.

  An annoyed weight instantly drops onto my shoulders. “Don’t be a drama queen, Ian. We’ll take it slow the next few days and things will be just fine.”

  “Are you serious right now?” Ian asks in disbelief. His eyes fade just a bit, and he lets himself away from the wall. “I am a vampire now. I just bit you. And you’re telling me not to be a drama queen?”

  “Yeah, I am.” I say it with a smile attempting to break onto my face.

  It must be contagious. Ian doesn’t exactly smile, but all the hard lines on his face soften just a little bit. He shakes his head and gives a small scoff. “You’re unbelievable, Alivia Ryan.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” I walk halfway down the hall picking up his shirt as I do, and extend my hand out toward him. “Now, come on. We’ve got some figuring out to do.”

  Hesitantly, he takes my hand. “You’re a freak of nature, Alivia Ryan. No wonder I can’t stay the hell away from you.”

  I smile as I offer him a side-glance. One by one, we descend the stairs.

  We round them just as Angelica is about to head up them. The second her eyes meet Ian’s, she lets out a high-pitched squeak. The stack of towels she was carrying goes tumbling to the floor.

  I don’t try to apologize this time. Ian does though, and I just tug him through the entryway.

  “They know,” he says as I haul him toward the library. “How the hell do they know? Do I look any different? They’ve all seen me dozens of times before, and they’ve never been afraid of me.”

  “Your grandmother isn’t the only one with a vampdar, apparently,” I say as we step over the threshold. “It makes sense they’re sensitive to vampires. They all worked for Henry for years.”

  Ian lets my hand go, pulls his shirt back over his head, and stands before Henry’s portrait with his hands on his hips.

  Ian. Here. Alive.

  I kissed him just minutes ago. I buried him just days ago. I witnessed his murder less than a week ago.

  Ian. Here.

  “Ian, how are you alive?” I say it with reverence.

  The moment I say it, his head sags, his shoulders tensing up. He doesn’t say anything.

  “I need to make sure I understand things,” I say as I sink onto the couch. “Because I thought there were only two kinds of vampires. The Bitten, who have not tasted death yet. They are drained to the brink of it, but the toxin takes over and changes them. They have yellow eyes and aren’t particularly in control of themselves, and I’m not just talking about the Debt.”

  The Bitten, like those that have been attacking the House, and those from our town who have been changed: the mayor’s wife, a star football player, others.

  “And, there’s the Born. Like me. Those with an immortal, Born, vampire father. Those who are not vampires until after they die.”

  I swallow hard, my brain spinning, trying to make any sense of what is happening.

  “You’re certainly not a Bitten, Ian,” I breathe. “But how the hell are you a Born?”

  Ian takes a sharp breath and shakes his head. He isn’t facing me, but I can imagine the pained look on his face. “I watched my parents die. I saw my dad, white. There’s no chance he was alive. He was a human, Alivia. He worked construction. He was outside, every day, all day. I know he wasn’t a Born.”

  I know he doesn’t want to say the words, and I don’t want to force them upon him, so instead I have to compare. Ian and Elle.

  While Ian’s hair is a fairly dark brown, Elle’s is blonde as the sun. Ian’s eyes are hazel, Elle’s are blue. Elle is fair and fragile and Ian is solid, around six feet tall and probably at least a hundred and eighty pounds. She’s a girl and he’s a man, but suddenly, I’m not sure if it’s just a gender difference.

  “She wouldn’t, would she?” Ian suddenly asks.

  He turns to face me and he’s confused and angry and unsure.

  “You know how vampires are,” I say quietly. “Maybe she didn’t have any choice.”

  “I’ve got to talk to Lula,” he says, his gaze retreating inward. “She’d know the answers. I mean, she has to know something.”

  I stand and cross the library to him. I run my hands up and down his arms, attempting to comfort him. “I don’t know if that that’s a good idea. She had to bury you. You know her opinion of those associated with vampires.”
r />   But as I recall Ian’s funeral, Lula never cried. She simply looked angry.

  Did she know?

  Ian swears. “I can’t even go home, can I? Not only will she hate me, but what if I hurt her, or Elle?”

  “You wouldn’t, I know you wouldn’t.” And while I wasn’t as sure about myself, I am sure about his family. “But you know you’re always welcome to stay here.”

  “This isn’t right, Liv,” Ian shakes his head. “This entire situation is so messed up. This goes against everything. Just…everything.”

  “Come here,” I say and pull him into my arms. Because I don’t know what to say.

  THE FIREPLACE IS ROARING IN the library thanks to Kellog’s skills. It’s hot in here, fighting off the chill in the house. It’s late at night. I sit in an oversized chair, Rath keeping me company on the couch while Ian showers or sleeps or mopes. I’m trying to give him space to cope.

  “Do you think it was an affair?” I ask as I study the flames.

  “I do not think anything about that aspect of the situation,” Rath says. “It is the implications of him being alive that concerns me.”

  “How do you mean?” I ask, stealing a glance in his direction. His eyes are reflective, staring at the flames. I imagine the late night conversations that must have taken place in this very room between him and my father. The things they must have discussed. The loyalty that ran so deep.

  I’m ever jealous that Rath got time with my father and I did not.

  Suddenly, he looks at me. “You began plotting a game of power because Jasmine took from you what you valued most. The valuee is returned to you. What is your intent now?”

  I don’t have an answer for him, so I stare at him for a very long time. Absentmindedly, I reach for the key that hangs from my neck and turn it over and over between my fingers.

  “I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “I’m angry. What she did and everything she does is so…manipulative and entitled. I think the most important thing that’s come from the last few days is that I’ve realized that I am no longer afraid of the House.”

  My chest feels lighter just saying the words. Because it’s the truth. For the past few months, I’ve been scared. I’ve been their pawn. No more. “I think many things changed the night Ian died. I went to the House that night prepared to die. I faced the reality of my own death that night and I accepted it. I’m not saying I look forward to my death, but I don’t think I’m scared of it anymore.”