He grips my neck, then shoves me into the table. “YOU KNOW,” he booms in my mind. “BUT YOU RESIST.”
“No, no,” I growl, anger seizing me again at being manhandled in front of Father and his most trusted vampires.
“Permit me to search his mind,” The Ancient rasps, out loud, for all to hear. “I can find the answers you seek, my King.”
Father considers. He looks at Beatrice.
She shakes her head.
“What he is proposing is a type of rape.” Beatrice speaks softly, but her voice draws everyone’s attention. “We will not resort to such tactics. Not yet.”
Reluctantly, The Ancient lets me go. Father stares impassively at me.
How much influence does this woman have?
“Tell me, James,” Beatrice flows toward me. “Last time you saw the Queen. Did anything in particular… stand out? Did she seem different or maybe changed, somehow?”
I remember the way Mother refused to look at me until passing her sentence. The same she’s been for hundreds of years.
“No,” I say stiffly.
“Are you sure?” Beatrice’s voice is sweet as honey and clear as running water. She tangles a hand in my hair, places her lips to my ear, and purrs, “Anything? Anything at all?”
My body reacts to her sensual proximity. I do my best to hide it. “No,” I say.
“Such a shame,” she whispers. “We were all hoping you’d be more use.”
Suddenly she places a silver needle beneath my ear.
I go absolutely still.
“There is more than one way to kill a vampire,” she tells me. “And more than one way to torture one.”
All my attention is drawn to the needle. The rest of the assembly has gone absolutely silent.
“I’ve been experimenting lately. A stake through the heart, exposure to fire, all of those are known to kill, yes, but such methods are not very… exciting.”
Beatrice presses her breasts into me, flaunting her femininity while toying with my life. “Yet this needle, stuck in the right spot on your neck… it would lead to a slow and agonizing death. A death which is drawn out for weeks. A death where hallucinations take you. A death that exposes you to the most heinous parts of your mind.”
“You lie,” I growl. Still, I do not move.
“Oh? Do you wish to test me?” She applies the tiniest bit more pressure. I go on my toes so she doesn’t break skin.
“Thought not,” she murmurs. “Now, tell us what you know—or risk igniting my displeasure.”
“I told you everything,” I grunt. “Why would I hold anything back?”
“So be it.” Beatrice shrugs. “I guess you’re not as much use to us as we first thought.”
She looks at my Father for permission. He nods.
“Wait, wait, wait,” I hiss. My mind grapples for something to tell them. “There was a—a staff! When Mother greeted me, she was using a walking staff. She’s never had it before.”
It’s the most desperate attempt at giving useful information I know. But, to my surprise, Beatrice eases the needle’s pressure.
“A staff?” she asks. “Interesting. Very interesting. What did it look like?”
“Waist high, made of some dark metal, don’t know… I didn’t pay attention to such things when my life was on the line.”
“As it is now,” Beatrice reminds me. “Again.”
Riyu, to my surprise, retrieves a book from the side and lays it flat on the table. Without speaking, he opens it to a particular page, and points.
My eyes go wide. “That’s it!” I say. “That’s the Queen’s staff!”
Beatrice nods. She shares a look with Riyu. “We hoped it would be.” She turns to my Father. “James is now ready to prove his loyalty to you.”
A dangerous grin crosses the King’s face.
“If you want to live,” he tells me, “you will return to The Haven—and you will bring the staff back to us.” His eyes shine with greed. “With a torrial of such strength in my command…”
“…You will rule the world,” Beatrice finishes, breathless.
The vampires around me start to laugh.
Chapter Forty-Five
SMITHSON
“The guards have been told to keep a keen eye for unusual activity,” I report. “So far, they’ve witnessed none. News of the Narwhark has been contained.”
I’m alone with the Queen in the room. Her massive crystal throne looms high above us both.
I’m at the bottom of the stairs leading to the gaudy thing. She’s perched on its edge.
She peers at her nails and affects a disinterested expression. “No less than I expected from you.”