Promises to Keep - By Amelia Atwater-Rhodes Page 0,4

the front hall, and only then did Jay become aware of the thundering of his own nervous pulse. As his family and other vampire hunters often reminded him, Jay had never been a paragon of common sense. They would have told him he had to be suicidal to have accepted Nikolas’s invitation in the first place, and that it was beyond insane to stay once he’d learned Nikolas was already gone. But in the moments when Kendra’s attention had been on him, Jay had been submerged in the most extraordinary aura he had ever experienced. He couldn’t stand to go back out in the cold. Not yet.

Instead, he read the plaque at the base of the statue.

LADY WITH A FALCON ON HER FIST

LORD DARYL DI’BIRGETTA

The vampire known as Lord Daryl had been killed two summers ago, an event shocking enough that news had traveled swiftly.

Hunters frequently took down the young and the sloppy, vampires who had been changed by whim instead of thoughtful intent, who had relatively few connections to others of their kind, and who tended to surround themselves with attention-drawing kills. It was far rarer for a hunter to actually strike at the kind of individual who attended Kendra’s Heathen Holiday, who had allies, friends, and political connections throughout the vampiric world.

Lord Daryl had not been an ancient, but he had been a powerful figure in his domain, especially in the realm known as Midnight, an empire where humans—and occasionally witches or shapeshifters—had been bought and sold as slaves. When Midnight had fallen two centuries ago, another group had claimed leadership over all vampires and had supposedly outlawed their slave trade, but Daryl was proof that the laws hadn’t entirely worked. It was hard for a hunter like Jay to get solid information, but it had become clear in recent years that Midnight had been reborn and was gaining power once again.

Rumors claimed that Daryl’s own slave had killed him.

Jay shuddered, turning away from the statue. How could a man known for his viciousness as a trainer, whose career had been dedicated to transforming free souls into broken slaves, ever create such a powerful yet delicate work of art?

Jay caught himself staring again.

Move, Jay.

Beyond the entry, the spectacle was overwhelming. Paint, ink, stone, clay, metal, glass, canvas, photo, paper, wood … Thousands of years of talent were showcased here, in every possible medium.

The artistic creations were not the only works of beauty.

The members of Kendra’s line, assembled together in full formal wear, were breathtaking. Nikolas had told him the dress code was “more or less black tie,” and now Jay understood what “more or less” meant. The vampires and bloodbonds in the room were from every century and every country. Tuxedo jackets and ball gowns moved among saris, mandarin gowns, and other apparel Jay couldn’t begin to name.

Beyond clothes, skin had in many cases been used as a canvas. Many bloodbonds had been painted, some with elaborate masquerade-style face paint, but others with body art that complemented their attire. One glittering creature wore a dress with an open back that revealed shining painted butterfly wings.

After letting out a squeak of disappointment when the mural he had been admiring moved away to mingle with the other guests, Jay reminded himself that he needed to pay attention to the people around him and not just the minds and art.

Kendra alone had been overwhelming. Now Jay was surrounded by such powerful, brilliant minds that it was hard to even see the faces associated with them. In this kind of daze, if someone came at him with a blade, he might just smile at the way the light sparkled on it.

Where am I? He had been wandering, paying no attention, but now found himself surrounded by music and movement.

Colors blended as couples danced in a way Jay had only ever seen in movies, formal patterns responding to the arcing melodies of a string quartet. Standing among them was like standing in a surf, feeling the rhythm. He ducked out of the way when a pair nearly spun into him, and he ran into—

Static. White noise.

The mind he faced made Jay feel as though he’d been dunked in an icy lake. Dressed in immaculate black and white, the human before him was apparently one of the help, not a guest. His mind was oddly sterile, still, devoid of emotion or wanting.

“Refreshment, sir?” the servant offered, nodding to the silver tray he carried, which was heavy with glasses of champagne and some unrecognizable finger