Renie

I didn't join the Council when they went to feed. I knew I had already drunk blood – Edmond's when he made me a vampire, and the blood of whichever donors had helped me through the turn – but it was something I couldn't bear to think about.

I hadn't meant what I said to Edmond about being a monster, but I couldn't quite face the full reality of the situation yet. It was too much.

So while the Council busied themselves with the donors, I found myself heading into the ballroom.

The last time I had been in this room, it had been a sea of blood and bodies; gore painting the marble floor and forming macabre patterns on the panelled walls. Not a trace of that carnage remained. The ballroom was a simply a grand room with a marble-laid floor and crystal chandeliers gracing the ceiling. There was no sign that it had ever been the scene for anything but harmless dancing.

But the slaughter I had seen here was something I would never forget. Even though the blood had been cleaned up, I could still smell traces of it, faint hints drifting from the floor and walls.

I still didn't know who had survived that night, and I couldn't bring myself to ask. That would mean approaching one of the other vampires and I didn't know how to do that. What if they hated me for what had happened? Some vampires had a definite sense of superiority, and donors were considered beneath them. How would they react now that one of those lowly donors had become one of them?

Maybe I was overreacting – maybe they wouldn't care what had happened. But I couldn't shake the fear that they would somehow see me as a usurper, an imposter. I couldn't shake the fear that they would turn on me.

Even if they didn't, what if they blamed me for what was happening to Edmond? Not that I was entirely clear what that was, but Edmond had lived with these vampires for years. He knew them, was friends with them. Then I had come along and ruined everything. Of course it wasn't as black and white as that, but some people might still see it that way.

There could be a lot more to living as a vampire than just adjusting to drinking blood and staying out of the sunlight.

I left the ballroom, drifting aimlessly through the now empty dining hall. Maybe I should head into the donors' wing so I could see Roux and Jason. With renewed determination, I headed for the main staircase, but just before the vestibule I stopped.

Dexter was there with his security personnel, and Isabeau stood in the midst of them, her head held high. But her posture didn't hide the glitter of fear in her eyes. Isabeau knew better than I did what the Council were capable of, and she knew that no one was going to save her from whatever they wanted to do.

How did the Council interrogate suspects? Did they use torture?

Vampires had already proved they clung to a more archaic sense of justice when they publicly whipped Edmond, so I didn't find it too hard to believe they would revert to the days of torturing victims to get them to confess. I didn't want to believe that Ysanne would hand over someone she cared about to that kind of treatment, but I couldn't assume she wouldn't. She was ruthless when she needed to be.

"Just a moment, Flynn," Ysanne said, sweeping down the stairs.

I ducked out of view, pressing myself against the wall and peeping around the entryway. Was Ysanne about to free Isabeau, regardless of the Council's wishes? That seemed like the right thing to do, but for the first time I felt a pang of doubt. What would happen if Ysanne flouted the Council? The balance between the vampires Houses was already on seriously rocky ground, and if Ysanne deliberately went against them on this, it could shatter the Council relationships altogether. My limited knowledge of vampire politics meant I didn't know what that would mean for anyone, but I couldn't imagine it was anything good.

Dexter stepped back, motioning for his people to do the same. Ysanne shot him a look that I couldn't see from my vantage point, and he bowed his head.

"Call us when you need us, my Lady," he said.

He signalled to his team, and they moved into one of the hallways branching off from the vestibule, leaving Ysanne and Isabeau alone. For the longest moment the two women just stared at each other. Then Ysanne lifted a hand and gently laid it against Isabeau's cheek. She said something in French, but I couldn't begin to translate it. Isabeau's lip trembled.

"Ma belle," Ysanne whispered. "They will not hurt you."

"I didn't do this," Isabeau said.

"But someone did. The Council are scared and that is not something they are used to. None of us have had to be scared for so long. They need to feel like they are doing something, even if that means imprisoning an innocent woman. If I could change this, I would, but they need to feel that they have made progress. They will take you to a neutral location and question you, that is all. It cannot take them long to ascertain that you do not know anything; that you are not responsible for this. Then they will bring you back," Ysanne said.

"And in the meantime, the real monster behind this goes free." Bitterness tinged Isabeau's words.

"Not for long," Ysanne said, and her voice was sharp and cold as a blade. "Someone has betrayed the laws of our kind, and betrayed my personal trust. I shall have their head for that."

Isabeau kissed her, pressing her mouth to Ysanne's with the force of someone who believes they are about to lose something infinitely precious. Ysanne cupped Isabeau's cheek, pulling the other woman against her.

I turned away, not wanting to intrude on a private moment. Every time I wanted to loathe Ysanne, to throw all the blame at her feet, she did something to remind me that she wasn't the ice-cold monster I sometimes thought her.

Ysanne had told me once that she'd loved more deeply than I could imagine, and now I wondered if she was talking about Isabeau. They were both vampires, both old, both French. There was nothing to say they hadn't been lovers for years, bound together by several lifetimes.

In that moment, I pitied Ysanne. By taking on the role as leader of Belle Morte, she had made the choice to put the wellbeing of her people above all else – including her own personal happiness. I couldn't imagine having to choose between my love for Edmond and the vampires of Belle Morte. Objectively, the right thing to do was whatever was best for the vampires, but who could honestly say they would give up the person they loved, even if it was better for everyone else?

I wanted to hate Ysanne for separating me from Edmond, but she, too, was separating herself from someone she loved – and she had to do it voluntarily, for the good of her people. I couldn't imagine having that kind of strength.

But what if Isabeau really was responsible for all this?

I'd had my doubts about her, and they still lingered, a little seed that had crept into my brain and wouldn't be uprooted. Isabeau had always struck me as a good person, but I couldn't let that cloud my judgement. There was a chance that Isabeau had killed my sister and then used her as a weapon.

Isabeau murmured something else in French, and I crept away from the vestibule. As it stood, Isabeau's guilt was speculative at best. It wasn't right to intrude any more on her farewell with Ysanne.

Since I couldn't get up to the south wing at the moment, I made my way back to the ballroom. I stood in the middle of the dance-floor and gazed around at the lavish decor, remembering this room as it had been during the balls. The last time Belle Morte had hosted such an event, I had danced with Edmond as a human.

Now I was a vampire.

It was staggering how much lives could change in just a few short days.

The next time Belle Morte threw a ball would I head down the main staircase with the other vampires? Was I going to have my own page on the vampire fansites, my own columns in the gossip mags? The thought made my stomach twist.

High heels loudly clicked on the marble floor and I turned to see Ysanne flowing into the room. Her face was cold and impassive, no trace of the woman who had sent her lover to a prison – the location of which she didn't even know.

She stopped a couple of metres away and looked me over, head to toe. Unease prickled along my skin. I'd sassed Ysanne before because I believed my status as donor protected me. I didn't have that anymore. Now that I was a vampire, I was subject to vampire laws, and they weren't the same as human ones.

Ysanne had whipped and imprisoned Edmond for breaking the rules. That could happen to me, too. I needed to remember that. When I became a vampire, I had truly left the human world behind, and there was a lot about this new world that I needed to get used to.

"Follow me," Ysanne said.

She strode past me to a small door at the back of the ballroom, the one that the human staff used when they were carrying silver trays of champagne to and from the kitchens.

Reluctantly, I followed. If Ysanne wanted to hurt me, she could do it anywhere. She could wipe the ballroom floor with me and no one would lift an eyebrow. Wherever she was taking me, it wasn't so she could beat me up without anyone knowing.

At least that's what I told myself as I followed her through the door.

Beyond the ballroom was a small kitchen/wine-cellar, all polished chrome appliances and wooden racks filled with bottles. The silver trays the staff used were neatly stacked on a surface in the corner.

Two of the walls featured doors, and Ysanne led me to the one at the back of the room. Beyond that was a narrow corridor, featuring a bare-board floor and white-washed walls. It was a stark contrast to the rest of Belle Morte, and the unease crawling along my skin sharpened to fear.

Despite all the hours I'd spent trawling vampire fansites, looking for whatever info on Belle Morte I could find, I'd never found any mention of this corridor.

For a moment I actually thought this was one of the secret passageways that fans speculated about, but it couldn't be. We'd walked through a very obvious door – hardly a secret.

Unless everyone in Belle Morte was forbidden to speak of this place. Maybe this was the reality of those passageways – not secreted in the walls as such, but still hidden away from most people in the House.

"Where are you taking me?" I said.

Ysanne didn't answer.

I glanced back the way we'd come. It was a long corridor, and the door had shut behind us the moment we came in. How far away where we from everyone else? Would anyone hear me if I screamed?

"Hey," I said, stopping. "I'm not taking another step until you tell me where we're going."

Ysanne whirled to face me. "For once in your life, will you do as you are told?"

Her eyes flared red, her fangs jutting over her lower lip, but, despite my fear, I held my ground.

"You've lied to me in the past, and you can't expect me to blindly follow you without any clue where we're going," I said.

Ysanne glared at me. "I wouldn't do this for anyone, you know."

"Do what?"

"Give you the one thing you truly want. I'm taking you to see Edmond."

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Translations:

Ma belle - My beautiful