Page 21 of Rite of Blood and Secrets

I gasp for air the moment I'm outside, trying to still the racing of my heart and the horrible feeling settled within my stomach. I close my eyes and instantly regret it, the images of the feast replaying again and again. I don't know how I'm going to be able to sleep tonight with the memories so fresh.

The moon shines brightly, no longer the same intense golden yellow as before. I'm sure it doesn't mean anything, but it feels as if it could be a case of the magic of the evening wearing off.

Does that mean I'm a full vampire now?

I straighten up and touch my teeth. They feel normal, and not like the fangs that some of the other vampires were using to bite into the throats of the unsuspecting humans. No wonder Mrs Potsworth told me not to come here tonight. She probably didn't realise I was a dhampir when she said that, but she must have known that the people who come up here never return to the town.

If I get a chance, I should go and tell her she's right to be afraid, and to convince the rest of the town to stay well away.

Even as I think it, I know it's a fool's errand. Why is she to believe me? And even if she does, what's to say she won't kill me before I have a chance to properly explain?

I wipe away the remnants of tears, though I'm sure they'll be back. At least the cool evening air has helped calm me down, even if I'm nowhere near ready to head back inside.

Footsteps sound behind me and I tense, half expecting it to be Lord Fallmartin coming to instruct me to come back inside and take part. I turn around, readying myself to return to the ballroom even if I don't want to. Getting out of this situation unscathed is my goal, and for now, that involves listening to Lord Fallmartin and precisely what he expects from me.

My lips part as I realise the man isn't anyone I know. "Good evening," I say, my voice coming out strained.

"Is it?" he responds, slurring his words slightly and half stumbling as he comes to stand beside me.

I try to think of an answer, but don't have one. I suppose it's a good evening for people like my brother, those wanting to find a place in the world and willing to build it on the blood of others. For the humans here tonight, not so much.

"You're in my spot," he says.

I frown. "I'm sorry. I'll leave." I pause, remembering that I'm supposed to not be drawing attention to myself. I dip into an awkward curtsy. "My Lord."

His eyebrows shoot up. "You don't have to leave. That was rude of me."

"A little," I mumble, unable to help myself.

"I'm not used to finding people out here during feasts."

"I needed some air," I say, before remembering that I shouldn't be showing weakness. "Too much wine." It's the best I can come up with when I know the truth isn't an option.

He snorts. "You don't have to lie."

"I'm not lying."

"You've barely had any. Now me, I've had more than my share." He lifts what looks like a whole jug and drinks straight from the rim. He holds it out to me.

"No, thank you."

"It'll take the edge off the feast," he says bitterly.

I stand rooted in my spot, trying to figure out the best way to respond to him that isn't going to get me into trouble. I want to tell him that the feast doesn't bother me, and that I'm out here for completely unrelated reasons. That's the sensible thing to do, and I know it's what Lord Fallmartin would want. But I can't bring myself to say the words. Until I find the way to escape this world, I need to hold onto myself, without letting on how I feel.

"Suit yourself," the man mutters, taking another swig and somehow managing to stumble.

I reach out to steady him. "Maybe you've had enough," I say, reaching out to take the jug from him.

"You can't have it unless you're going to drink," he slurs.

"I don't want to drink."

"Worried it'll make the nightmares worse?" he asks, his dark eyes growing haunted as he says the words.

"What nightmares?"

"Of the feast. You look like the kind who will wake up screaming in the night."