Page 72 of A Dream of Stars and Curses

Carefully, I sit up. The strain on my neck makes me dizzy, but I take a moment to breathe once I’m upright, and the pain fades. I close my eyes a second and focus on the tender skin around the wound. It hurts like nothing else ever has, but I don’t feel a trickle or a flood. That’s something.

I wish I could at least open that tiny window. The breeze always makes me feel better. I can reason through anything when I stand in the wind. No luck with that down here, but I can pretend there’s a breeze on my skin.

I cross my legs and pray that Chiara doesn’t return now. As much as she loves to play with my life, there must be other things she does. I don’t exactly see her having a regular job, but surely she has some form of routine? The painful truth is that I’ve no idea whether she’ll be back in ten seconds or ten hours. I could have loads of time, or she could be moving the key towards the lock right now. My heart races faster at the thought, but I will myself to calm down. I won’t do myself any favours if I panic. This might be my only chance, so I need to make it count.

But first, I need to be calm enough to approach this logically, so I keep my eyes closed and consider everything I know about this room. The tiny window is shut tight, and even if it weren’t, it’d be too small for me to fit through. Maybe I could punch a hole in it with one of Chiara’s tools? Maybe if I ram the spade’s hilt into the glass... That would take a lot of strength, though, and I don’t have much of that at the best of times. Would I manage to destroy the window or would I just make a racket and tell Chiara that her newest toy is being uppity? I need her to be unaware of what I’m doing, whatever that’ll be, for as long as possible.

There isn’t an awful lot else in the room I could use, though. If there are any secret passages, I don’t see them; though I suppose that’s the point of a secret passage.

The way I see it, I have two options: I can either spend my time looking for a hidden tunnel that may not exist, or I can try my luck with the door, which definitely exists but which is also definitely locked, and there’s a good chance that Chiara is home. I don’t fancy either option, but there isn’t a third except waiting for Kate and Leverett to arrive, but I don’t know that they’ll find me. I can’t rely on them for this.

I rack my brain for any weakness Chiara might have shown me, anything Leverett might have said that would help me fight her, but I don’t remember anything. Didn’t he say that only a vampire can really kill another vampire? That doesn’t help me. Add to that my current state, and I’d have exactly zero chance to take Chiara in a fight... and that’s with accepting that I wouldn’t have had a chance in hell even if I trained for a year and put on some muscle. Besides, as much as I hate her, I’m not a murderer. Could I kill her in self-defense? Maybe, if I got lucky and she slipped up. Adrenaline and survival instinct would drive much of that. But could I challenge her to a fight with the intention of killing her? No. I can’t see that. It’s not me.

The door lock catches, and my heart misses a beat. Chiara can’t be back so soon—I’m not ready. But, of course, Chiara couldn’t care less about what I want. The door opens, and she strides onto the stairs with a smug smile.

I’m dying to know what exactly Mischief figures I can do here.

‘If you’ve got any smart ideas, now’s the time,’ I mumble under my breath.

To no one’s surprise, Mischief doesn’t answer. Although... she isn’t technically part of my dreamscape; she’s part of my unconscious. Do I need to be asleep to access that or could I talk this through with her right now? My unconscious doesn’t go anywhere when I’m awake. It’s easier to access when I’m asleep, but it’s not like it’s on holiday to Bali right now.

‘Took you long enough,’ a voice that sounds suspiciously like Mischief says.

Chiara reaches the bottom of the stairs and gives me a crooked smile. ‘What’s that? Do speak up, human. Was that a last wish I heard? Something about smart ideas?’

I glare back at her, but my mind is working overtime. She didn’t comment on what Mischief said—or on what sounded like something Mischief said. Does that mean she didn’t hear it? Does that mean it really was Mischief, just in my head?

Maybe I can do something with this. I just don’t know what.

‘I said it’s not a very smart idea, keeping me locked up here.’ Fuck knows why I keep taunting her. She’s going to kill me anyway, right? I can and will make myself as annoying as I can before she gets fed up. That doesn’t mean I’m unaware of the stupidity, though. Chiara has all kinds of torture methods at her disposal, and I keep telling her to do her worst. I’m not prepared to die pleading for mercy, but that doesn’t mean I have to go out screaming in agony, either. ‘Kate and Leverett will find me. They’ll tear you apart.’

Okay, so, I don’t know if Kate could tear her apart or if Leverett would do it for a dead human, but it gives me some comfort to picture it. Maybe my ghost can hang around long enough to watch. That would almost make dying worth it. Given what Leverett told me, though, maybe he wouldn’t hurt another vampire over an already dead human. What will my memory be worth to him in a hundred years or so, when Chiara, Anton, and Saif are still around and looking dashing at their parties?

‘Or better yet,’ Mischief purrs, ‘you stay alive and tear Chiara apart together.’

I swallow. I’ve no idea what the limitations of this are or if there’s a chance it’s not her at all and I’m just going crazy from bloodloss, but that’ll be something to consider when I’m home and hugging my dog.

‘What do I do?’ I say under my breath, hoping that Mischief can hear me and Chiara can’t.

Chiara appears right in front of me, her eyes dark with blood lust. ‘What else? You can bleed for me, silly human.’

‘Run,’ Mischief hisses.

So I do.

Chiara doesn’t expect it, so I’m proud to say that I manage five full feet before she laughs and grabs my wrist.

Good one, Mischief.

‘Don’t blame me if you’re slow,’ Mischief purrs. I picture her yawning with a big stretch. ‘If you were a cat or a bird, you could have done it.’

I scowl my response at Chiara. Unhelpful as Mischief is being, I feel less alone with her in my head. I don’t massively care if it is just a form of insanity right now—I feel like we’re a tiny, sarcastic team. I let Mischief down once with the Dreamcatcher. I won’t let her down now. If she tells me to run again, I will try again. It’s not like I have a better plan.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’ Chiara laughs. ‘You don’t really think you could outrun me, do you?’

She lets go, vanishes in a huff of smoke, and reappears at the top of the stairs. ‘You must know it’s hopeless.’ She reappears in another corner. ‘You humans have such desperate fighting spirit, even when faced with a superior predator.’

She vanishes again, and for a moment I don’t know where she’s gone. I do notice something, though: Chiara didn’t close the door behind her this time. If I can somehow outwit her... I’d still need to actually get out of the house, leave the property—which is no doubt locked behind a huge gate—and flag down someone on the road before she catches up with me, but it’d be nice to make progress.

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