A Wind of Change (A Shade of Vampire #17)(29)

I listened for about a minute longer, but when I was unable to pick up on anything interesting, I motioned to move away and continue listening in another part of the atrium. But then the door clicked open and an elderly woman appeared behind it. Her white hair was tied up in a tight bun.

I feared at first that she was a vampire—I still wasn’t sure how to tell the difference when a vampire’s fangs and claws weren’t extended. But as a smile spread across her face, she looked like the friendliest person I’d come across so far in this ghastly place.

“You look lost,” she said. “Are you one of the new recruits?”

I wasn’t sure whether to stay and respond to her, or run. But something about her evoked trust in me, so I nodded. “Yes.”

She stepped back from the door and opened it wider so I could see into the room. There was a crowd of people—if I could call them people—sitting around a long rectangular table. They had plates of food in front of them and were eating away while chatting.

“Are you hungry? Would you like to join us?” the woman asked. “I’m Pamela, by the way. I’m a half-blood too, in case you couldn’t tell.”

Although my stomach could have done with some food, I still didn’t think I had enough of an appetite. But I nodded all the same and let her lead me inside. I was still thinking about Michael lurking around looking for me. Going into this room with these half-bloods might hide me from him a little longer and I could ask them about my sister.

“When did you get here?” Pamela asked.

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed. A part of me had been avoiding thinking about it, because it only made me feel more desperate about Lalia.

“Just very recently,” I replied, my voice stiff.

“Where were you taken from?” another half-blood asked—a girl who looked no older than thirteen.

“Just from the desert outside,” I replied.

“Whose half-blood are you? Or perhaps you’re just a general servant like most of us here?”

“A vampire named Michael took me in.”

No sooner had I said the words than a hushed silence fell around the table and all eyes fixed on me.

I stared back at them. “What?”

“Michael Gallow,” a man in his forties replied. “And he made you his slave?”

“Apparently.” I was beginning to feel impatient. “Please, I need your help, if there is anything you could tell me at all—my sister, she’s been taken—”

The middle-aged man stood up from his seat, his hands clenched into fists. He looked from me to the rest of the half-bloods sitting around the table.

“What’s the matter?” I asked, uneasy.

The atmosphere was suddenly electric with tension.

“We don’t know that Michael is definitely going to get rid of one of us.” Pamela set her fork down on the table. “Calm down, Frederick.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down.” The man glared at the old woman, then looked round the table. “What are you waiting for? This is Michael’s new muse, for whom one of us slaves is going to be sacrificed by the end of the week.”

My stomach flipped.

Oh, no.

I didn’t need a lot of wit about me to know that it was time I left this room. I darted for the exit, but four male half-bloods formed a wall in front of it, blocking my way. Each of them held knives. Then they began to approach me.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” Pamela said, eyeing the men. “You might all get into more trouble than it’s worth if you touch a half-blood Michael has already claimed as his own.”

The rest of the half-bloods in the room acted as though they hadn’t even heard Pamela speak.

“Pamela’s right,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I wouldn’t do this if I were you.” I didn’t want to show fear, because fear was the first sign of defeat. I’d just survived several encounters with blood-sucking vampires, I couldn’t allow myself to be finished off by a group of half-bloods.

Five of them lurched toward me at once. They were fast, just like me, but I managed to throw myself under the table in time to miss their blades aimed directly at my chest. More half-bloods chased after me, trying to grab me as I emerged at the other end of the table. The room was small, and there was only one of me. I knew my tactics were just a way to delay the inevitable—unless I managed to reach the door in time.

I might have been safer with Michael after all…

I tried to make my way toward the exit, but I was hopelessly outnumbered. I’d managed to fight my way within five feet of the door when a man lurched for my midriff and sent me crashing to the ground. Straddling my waist, he raised a bread knife and brought it down toward my heart. If I hadn’t forced my leg upward and kneed him in the groin, the blade would’ve sunk right through me.

He backed away from me, doubled over in pain, and I scrambled to my feet again. Fighting my way to the door, I pushed it open and staggered out. I headed straight for the rose garden and dove into a cluster of bushes, ignoring the thorns scraping my skin. I tried to keep hidden within the bushes as I scrambled away, but a strong hand closed around my ankle, dragging me out of the bushes toward the clearing in the center of the rose garden. Another large man stood over me, and while he wasn’t armed with a knife, his fists were like iron balls as they began pounding down against my face. They were merciless, and by the sixth blow, I felt close to unconsciousness. Any second now, another person would arrive and hand him a knife. This would be my end…