framed family photos. One of them was slightly crooked, so I straightened it. I heard a click, and the door creaked open. I went down into the darkness and cold air.
At the bottom, my bare feet scraped against rough concrete. The room was stark empty. A large door was set against one wall, this one imposing, with the doorknob carved into the shape of a lion. I reached for it with trembling fingers, and turned the knob slowly.
“Is everything alright, Dear?”
I jumped at the voice behind me.
Rebecca was standing in the dim light at the top of the stairs, wearing a black nightgown.
“Just came down for some books,” I said, lifting them up.
“I see,” she said. “Then you’ll be off to bed.”
I nodded, climbing the stairs again under her fierce gaze. She leaned to the side, leaving just enough space for me to squeeze past her, and the intoxicating scent of her perfume.
“Just one thing before you go,” she said, making me turn back around. “I’ve been generous, haven’t I? A gracious host?”
She leaned closer, and I saw a thin gold chain around her neck, dangling suggestively down the low bustline of her lacy negligee.
“Yes,” I said.
“Then please do me the small courtesy,” she said. “Of allowing an old woman her privacy. Most of the house is free to explore, but there are some rooms you must not open.”
“Why, what’s behind that door?” I asked, glancing back down into the dark basement.
“Memories,” she said. “Painful reminders I don’t have the strength to face every day, so I’ve tucked them away in storage. Nothing I’m sure that would concern you or your quest.”
I nodded, heading past the clock and up the stairs alone, but her voice called out softly from below.
“One more thing,” she smiled, her face in shadows.
“Don’t ever lie to me in my own house.”
22
By lunch the next day I’d gotten into a bit of a habit. We’d eat, read or play card games, taking turns going through the books and materials. It was the most like real life I could remember since leaving Algrave. Despite sleeping more than usual, I felt tired all the time, with a constant headache and stomach pain. My brain felt slow and foggy, and every time I opened a book I’d start to feel my consciousness fade after only a few minutes.
“Where’s Penelope?” I asked suddenly, counting the others in the room.
“Sleeping I think,” Jazmine said. “It’s normal, at least from what I read in the capital. New elite don’t moderate their consumption. They’re either half starved or deliriously full; which makes them manic and unpredictable when they feed. But if they feed too much, they’ll pass out for a few days, making them vulnerable. By the way, find anything?”
“No,” I said, closing the article I’d been reading, about the regenerative properties of salamanders. It was all general research or academic publications. Nothing about the elite or the elixir.
“We should just tell her why we’re really here,” Camina said. “Maybe she can help.”
“And tell her we want a cure for elitism so we can murder them all?” Trevor asked. “Think she’ll just hand it over?”
“We could torture her,” Luke mumbled.
“I’m just saying, we can’t stay here forever. We’re supposed to be meeting Tobias tomorrow. You’ve already been through the books and papers at least three times.”
I made more coffee in the kitchen. Becky had told us to make ourselves at home, and we were starting to. During the day, she made herself scarce but popped up when we needed her.
Trevor helped himself to a large slice of carrot cake, with cream cheese frosting, and followed me back into the living room.
“Come look at these,” April called from down the hall. We leaned over the screen and she brought up a series of webpages.
“Cached videos from the internet,” she explained, hitting play. The image was glitchy, but seemed to show a woman smiling into the camera, just before a dark blur seized her from behind and ripped out a chunk of her throat, sending up a spray of blood that obscured the lens.
Vampires among us, read the title.
“That can’t be right,” Trevor said, pointing to a number by the video. “Over ten million views?”
“There were a lot more people back then,” April said, scrolling down to the comments.
Fake news.
Nice try.
Really great CGI, almost looks real.
She clicked on another video, which showed a harrowed reporter in a dim studio, reading from a script.
“Due to the widespread and disturbing string of brutal murders sweeping the country,