The villagers are scared. They had always been scared, but now that the priests have worked them into a frenzy, they are like cornered animals; teeth bared, eyes wide, unearthly, uncaring screams thundering from their lips.
She is aware of a soft hand in hers – it is sweating now, gripping hers tighter than it had at the prison. Bless its owner's heart. It will sweat a lot more ere the end of the hour.
Something wet hits her cheek, and her head snaps up, her eyes raking the crowd. A fat housewife, her burly face mottled red and white with emotion, spits on her again, her stupid blue eyes vengeful.
Had it been her son? She vaguely remembered seeing the woman's face in the court.
Fat, ugly bitch. Her son deserved whatever he got.
"Burn in hell, demon!" shrieks the woman.
Jane smiles brightly.
The woman screams, and Jane smiles wider.
She is dead.
"Jane?"
The soft voice was worried, and Jane turned quickly from the window, a smile already prepared on her face.
"I heard you. My apologies."
She liked Byron. He had been a young earl who had captured the eye of one of the women here. Not incredibly interesting, but chivalrous enough to be a decent companion.
"It's summer; we all have more time to think these days," he said, taking her gloved arm in his own as they followed the others into the massive banquet room. It was an impressive place, Jane couldn't deny – the long mahogany benches that spanned the floor reflected the dancing light of the chandeliers. Her fine ears could detect the babble of human voices in the next room, and the clicking of cameras – obviously another castle tour ruse.
"Dance with me after dinner?" she asked charitably.
"It would be an honour."
The huge oak doors at the far end of the room swung open, and the eager travellers, mostly European from the look of it, stepped in. They paused, their awed eyes taking in the grandeur of the room and the perfection of their new hosts.
"If you'll all come into the centre of the room now," said Dameon, dressed in a businesslike suit and tie, a clipboard tucked under his arm. He winked at Jane as he closed the door.
As always, Jane waited for the initial frenzy to die down before selecting her prey. It was always irritating, dealing with screaming humans that flung themselves over the floor in a futile effort to fight back. It made it so hard to keep things elegant.
She chose a boy tonight - he was tall, maybe sixteen or seventeen, quite handsome, really; probably chosen especially for her. Dameon knew her preferences.
She approached him, and he backed away, the whites of his eyes showing, his palms held out in front of him.
"Mercy," he whispered. "Mercy." He had a thick accent – German? Perhaps a hint of Dutch.
"Don't fear me," she said, her own eyes wide and pleading. She laid a cool hand on his arm – it was far easier to keep clean without gloves on while drinking.
"Mercy," he said again, though slightly confused – after centuries of perfecting it, Jane knew just how angelically kind her expression looked.
"Nothing to fear, nothing to fear. Come, sit. Maybe, if you're lucky, it'll all turn out to be a dream."
He couldn't understand her, that was plain. Guiding him away from the massacre in the centre of the room, she sat on a soft couch, her dress pooling around her feet like a silver river. She patted the chair sympathetically, and the boy stumbled to it, dazed.
She reached up; he flinched, and she moved her hand fractionally so she only brushed his hair. They were so sensitive about their skin.
"It's been quite a day, hasn't it? You do have gorgeous hair. Look at this. Pure gold." Her delicate fingers pulled it gently from his neck, caressing his head, stroking his scalp. He was like putty in her capable hands. Gently, she leaned foreword, as if to embrace him; her hands cupped his face softly, angling it away from her, leaving his smooth neck exposed.
"Pretty hair, pretty neck. Pretty sad, really." Her full lips moved along his skin like the petals of a flower. He let out a little moan. Jane's lips twisted in a sardonic smile.
With the softest little push, her teeth pierced the skin; another moan, louder this time. She dragged her mouth downwards, widening the puncture; his moan was a cry now, but the firm hold on his body that he hadn't noticed before now kept him pinned to the couch, his arms held behind him, making it impossible to struggle.
Aro once described the best hunters as those who treated their victims like a lover, even to the final drop and last breath. Jane had to agree; as her smooth hands travelled over his shoulders, down his chest and up again, she could almost taste the conflicting emotions that raged within him. The adrenaline in his blood was delicious; she could never understand those vampires that preferred their prey dead before feeding. The pulsing blood that glided down her throat was unparalleled; she basked in it, smelling, touching, tasting her prey, embracing his life, bringing his death.
Humans thought they enjoyed food. There was no such thing as enjoyment in their world; none such as this.
He dropped from her hands; beautiful in death, although pinched; his face whiter than any corpse should be. Jane examined her dress – spotless, as always – and the lingering traces of blood on her lips gave her a final thrill as she licked them away. Rising, she lifted his lifeless form, settled it on the couch, and patted its shoulder. Maybe he had family, friends, people who loved him.
Maybe, if she was lucky, they'd come looking for him. That had been a delicious blood type.
Jane turned to examine the room. The feast was almost over; the only humans left alive were in their final, agonised moments. Jane smiled again to see Ivy with her catch – a strong, tanned male with bulging muscles, half-naked now, his bare chest hidden by the undulating ripples of Ivy's black hair. From the corner of her eyes, Jane could see Marcus watching his mate approvingly.
Alec stood beside her, so silently she was, as always, impressed. His face was calm, satiated; her brother took little enjoyment from his prey, but appreciated taste far more than most.
"Gorgeous selection tonight. Germany?"
"I thought so. We'll ask Dameon to go there for the next few months."
Armad and Aro approached, bending to kiss Jane one at a time. "Would you like to lead the way to the ballroom, darling?" Armad said cheerfully.