A Violet Fire (Vampires in Avignon #1) - Kelsey Quick Page 0,72

rail into my uneasy grip and test my weight on it. Then I take the first step. And then the second. A low echo of screeching metal reverberates, but no one stirs, and I hold steadfast to my faith. About midway and an especially loud screech swallows all traces of hope in one fell swoop. Immediately, I scramble upward. If any of them wake up now and see me, the suspicion would already be there, but if I can somehow get out of the room before too many stir, then I have a chance at no one realizing it’s me who left. With any luck they’ll would assume it to be Madam Ceti or Seriesa… I can only hope, anyway.

On the top floor, I trot to the exit of the seraglio, where an unfamiliar attendant now mans the gate.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he states in a low, rumbling snarl. His voice, along with his burly arms marked up to his sleeves with jagged scars awakens goosebumps along my skin. His dark, bleeding eyes pierce mine with nothing short of supernatural animosity. I stand my ground and lift the Laisse from the protection of my robes.

“I believe wherever I want,” I say a bit too meekly and I scold myself for it. Luckily, how I claim my freedom has nothing to do with whether or not the attendants obey protocol.

He narrows his eyes and growls before extending an arm. “Human scum,” he mutters as I pass him, and I reluctantly let him get away with it.

Intermittent light from the dull flower-burning lanterns alleviate my senses. With haste, I pass the fork in the chambers, and ascend the steep climb to the castle’s base. Excitement floods my veins with each servant I pass. All headed to bed in their respective quarters, they glance at me with furrowed brows. But when they notice the Laisse at my chest, they hesitantly redirect their judgments. Once adjusted to my surroundings and the ever-increasing thudding of my heart, I try my best to focus on the task at hand. Where is the castle’s least secure location?

Despite all of the windows and doors on the first level being the prime choice, I’ve noticed on my trips to Zein’s quarters that the heavy rotation of vampire guards seem to leave no gap in security. However, the second and third levels most likely are poorly manned. An idea crosses my mind. The libraries.

I make my way carefully down the stone corridors of the castle, trying my best to remember exactly where we came in from weeks ago. The only route I’ve taken since that time has been the one to Zein’s quarters, leaving me to rely on a broken piece of memory. Dark halls open to more dark halls with prettier flooring and cascading—though dim—lighting, while medium-level doors slowly become tall and wide. I must be nearing the heart of the castle. As paintings and guard placements grow more familiar, I wonder if I recognize it from my escort to the dining hall when Giomar paid a visit. A shiver of fear at the thought of that vampire rushes over my skin, just as I filter into the dim, blue light of the lobby.

There.

At the center, Zein’s bronze form holding a decapitated head of an enemy atop a marble edifice commands the focus of all the room’s adornments. Guards manning the front doors raise their spears at the sight of me until I lift my Laisse for them to glean. On either side of the entrance doors are the twin-staircases shooting diagonally upward to a second-level; to the libraries.

I waste no time climbing the steps. There are only two doors on the landing of the second floor—one leading into the castle, and one leading to the right’s outer rim. I take my chances with the right.

Through the door and I’m met with the heaviest darkness I have ever felt. The weight of it is so tangible that I can’t see my own hand in front of my face, can’t see any of the guards lining the hall—if there are any. Fear trickles through my pores in the form of sweat as I find the far wall of the corridor and slide my hands carefully along the smooth bricks of sandstone. Although it appears this section of the castle has long been empty, a constrictive feeling of being watched envelops me, and I can’t help but speed up my pace.

Sandstone eventually gives way to resin-covered wood on my