Carrow leaned close to me, her shoulder pressing against mine.

The contact shocked me back to awareness, dragging me from the horrible haze that the gauntlet had cast upon my mind.

I wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. Though her form felt cold and brittle, just like mine probably did, there was something else there.

Warmth. Connection.

A sparkling golden light seemed to flow around us, warming me from the outside. Reminding me that we were here to find an option other than death.

I clung to it, forcing one foot in front of the other. Whether Carrow dragged me or I dragged her, it was impossible to say. Maybe we dragged each other.

Minute by minute, we ascended through hell.

Finally, we reached the steps leading up to the imposing castle.

I looked upward, catching sight of the tall, midnight turrets that speared toward the clouds. Lightning crackled behind them, illuminating the structure. The stone was carved to appear sharp and serrated, the glass brilliant blood red.

The sight carried me back to the past, to the brief moment in which I’d regained consciousness after Silviu had drained me of my blood. He’d hauled my nearly dead corpse back here, dragging me over the threshold of his terrible fortress, where he would feed me his blood and force me to become like him.

I’d woken just briefly, long enough to see the castle looming overhead as he carried me inside. Then blackness. Next, I would awake a monster.

“This is better.” Carrow’s teeth chattered from the cold, but she was right.

It was slightly warmer, the wind no longer as bitter or as biting. The horrible memories and fears drifted away, no longer forced to the front by magic.

“That was terrible,” she said. “The things I saw in my head...”

“Magic. The ascent is called the gauntlet. It’s enchanted to force you to face your greatest fears.”

“Well, it worked.” She looked upward, her eyes widening at the sight of the castle. “This place is creepy as hell.”

I nodded. “He was the worst of us.”

“Was?”

“I hope he’s changed. Perhaps. But the myths of vampires were based on him. He is the oldest and the most terrifying.”

“No wonder your first years as a vampire were terrible, if this is where you lived.”

I nodded. “Perhaps. But do not forget, I was the one responsible for my actions. No matter the influence of Silviu, I still did those things.”

She nodded, dropping her head to look at the door. Not at me.

Why did I feel compelled to make her face my terrible nature?

Because it’s who I am.

I shoved the thought away and pounded on the door, ready to leave the past behind and enter the future. The fact that I had to face the most horrible part of my past did not escape me, however.

A moment later, the door swung open. A slender, pale figure stared out at us. Bald, with eyes as dark as black holes, Remington looked no different than he had when I’d seen him last. He still wore the same simple dark robes that made him look like the Grim Reaper.

I nodded. “Remington.”

“Devil.” Remington inclined his head briefly. “The Master is expecting you.”

“Not my master any longer.”

Something violent flickered in Remington’s eyes, but he wouldn’t act on it. He stepped back and gestured for us to enter. “Come in.”

I kept myself between Carrow and Remington as I entered the shadowed, barren hall. Like the exterior of the castle, the large foyer was cold and stark and miserable. The stone blocks that formed the walls were dark and sharp looking, as if one would receive a thousand cuts if a shoulder were to graze them.

As it had been in the past, only a few paltry candles lit the space, casting shadows, deep and dark. There was no doubt that monsters lurked within.

“You may wait in the salon.” Remington strode across the room, and we followed.

“Someone is watching us,” Carrow whispered against my ear.

The warmth of her breath made a shiver race down my spine. “More than one. The place is haunted. Keep your guard up.”

She nodded, tucking closer to me.

I could feel eyes on us as we walked, but it was impossible to locate their owners. Remington showed us into a small room that I didn’t recall from my past. It was bland enough—by Silviu’s standards—that there was no reason I should remember it even if I had been inside.

It was roughly fifteen feet by fifteen, the wallpaper dark and the hearth flickering with a black and orange flame. A dark couch sat in front of the fire, and the room was empty save for the paintings on the wall. They were done entirely in shades of black and dark gray, the images seeming to move even though they were impossible to decipher.

“He will call on you soon.” Remington inclined his head, then shut the door behind him.

“When—”

I held up a hand to cut Carrow off and made a soft shh noise.

She quieted, and I walked the perimeter of the room, inspecting it for any of Silviu’s magical spying devices. His magic was distinct enough that I would feel it—particularly since he was my maker. It gave me a connection that others didn’t have.

Near one of the paintings, a tiny black crystal was affixed to the wall. It vibrated with Silviu’s magic, a sickly sweet smell of decaying flesh that had always turned my stomach.

I removed it and dropped it to the ground, then crushed it under my shoe. Once I’d determined that the room was clean, I turned to Carrow. “My apologies. I didn’t want Silviu to listen in.”

“He won’t be mad?”

“Perhaps. Would you prefer he spy on us?”

She shrugged. “We could just not speak.”

I might not have much time left with her. I didn’t want to spend it in silence when I could be listening to her instead.

“It’s fine,” I said. “Better for him to know we are on equal footing.”

“Is that the power balance here? You’re equals, even though he is your maker?”

I nodded. “Once, it was not the case. When I was first turned, he possessed the power to grind me under his boot.”

“I imagine that didn’t work for you.”

“It did not.” Just the memory made my skin tighten. “In the end, it was the horrors I committed here that saved me. The depths of the depravity returned my senses to me through the blood lust. Part of me did not want to kill like that. Whatever soul I had left was resurrected in the middle of all that bloodshed. With the barest sliver of my mind returned to me, I was able to fight my way free.”

“And then you were on equal footing with Silviu?”

“Yes. I was able to turn my viciousness on him. He chose me because I was strong. But he didn’t realize that strength would free me from his grasp.”

“So you left here.”

“Yes. It took ten years, but I left.”

“To go do good works?” Skepticism sounded in her voice, reminding me that she knew my reputation.

I had no intention of lying to her, however. “Hardly. I’m still not a good man, and I never have been. But I was never meant to be pure, unthinking evil.”

“Like Silviu.”

“Like Silviu.” I shrugged. “Though perhaps he has changed.”

“That’s the second time you’ve said that. You really think so?”

“Staying the same for hundreds of years is deeply boring. Excruciatingly so. He may have changed to keep himself from going insane.”

“The fact that evil insanity is our other option is not reassuring.”

I chuckled, and she gave a small smile.

Standing there amidst all the darkness and horror of this place only made her shine more fiercely, golden and bright. I’d have loved her no matter what she looked like, but it felt particularly poetic that she should gleam like sunrise when placed beside the horrors of my past.

Behind us, a door creaked open, and a slice of orange light cut across the floor.

I turned and spotted Remington, who said, “The Master will see you now.”

4

Carrow

I followed Grey from the room, shying away from Remington as we walked past him. The guy gave me the creeps in the biggest way. I couldn’t tell if he was a vampire or something else, but his magic made spiders crawl up my spine, and I wanted a scalding shower as soon as I got out of there.

Silviu’s castle was the worst place I’d ever been, and I’d been to the Tower dungeons.

Grey stuck close to my side as we entered a long dining room. The ceiling soared overhead, skylights revealing bright white bursts of lightning. Tall windows cut through the stone walls, their edges trimmed in ornately carved black stone. The same terrible paintings watched us from the walls, the images indiscernible to my eye.

If I had to guess, I’d say they were people screaming. It didn't matter that I couldn’t decipher the images. I could feel them.

An enormous rectangular table filled the middle of the room, laid with dozens of gold place settings and ornate candelabra dripping with black wax. At the far end of the table, a man sat.

I stutter stepped at the sight of him.

Could I really call him a man?

Not quite.

I’d once thought of Grey as the Ice Man—so cold and beautiful that he couldn’t be real.

I’d been wrong.

This was the Ice Man, but he was made of something that could only be found at the farthest reaches of outer space. So cold and hard and beautiful that it hurt to look at him—and that wasn’t hyperbole. It actually hurt my eyes, some kind of strange magic that was the worst I’d ever felt. He was so pale that he looked like snow, his eyes an almost translucent silver. Platinum hair flowed from his head, and it could have been beautiful if it didn’t make me think of cutting my hands if I touched it.

Two beautiful women sat at either side of the table, positioned right at the corners. Compared to him, they glowed with life and vitality. Both had skin of warm gold and hair of copper. Brilliant blue eyes met mine, and I couldn’t help but notice the twin pinpricks on their necks.