JENNIE
I awoke to the sound of music.
Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, if I wasn't mistaken.
It was a careful, if somewhat halting, rendition. The pianist forgot a key series of notes midway, but the mistakes did nothing to detract from the overall beauty of the piece.
However, unless Harper had hauled my grandmother's Baby Grand upstairs, I couldn't fathom how I was hearing it so clearly when our only piano was on the opposite side of the house.
In fact, even my much-beloved bed was nowhere near as soft as the mattress beneath me now. It felt decadently luxurious—not to mention that the silken sheets draped over my body would have never been found within the practical linen cupboards of Kim Manor.
"No," I croaked as my eyes opened to an unfamiliar ceiling. "Definitely not in Kansas, Jennie."
Neither, it would seem, was I in one of those strange rooms at the club. Or, I suspected on a hunch, that mysterious manor in the hills, leaving only one likely scenario ...
With a heavy sense of dread, I rolled over and forced myself to take in the interior of a room that I knew in my heart to be part of a certain vampire's lair.
The walls were gray. There were no windows. Only a single black rug served as décor in addition to the bed.
But no chains, either, I realized with a sense of relief that left me breathless. My arms moved freely, and I raised a hand to find that the skin of both wrists was pale and unblemished. However, memories of last night lingered like a dark cloud on the edge of my consciousness, threatening to overwhelm my exhausted brain at any moment. Blood, ice, warmth ...
In a desperate attempt to distract myself, I sat upright and withdrew the blankets from my body.
The bed I had been lying on was enormous, yet it didn't even take up half of the room, despite being the only piece of furniture here. Its sleek, ebony frame was in the modern style, with a square headboard that clashed with the ancient rafters supporting the ceiling above.
Trembling, I placed my feet flat on the floor and stood.
Someone had dressed me again while I had been unconscious—this time in a simple gray shift. The hem barely reached my knees, and I stared down in shock at my unmarked legs.
Somehow, I knew, even before I reached up to feel for myself, that my neck was also free of any injuries. No identical puncture wounds. No stray patches of dried blood.
And the questions only continued to build from there.
The door had been left open, allowing the music inside. I took a cautious step over the threshold and found myself following the notes, down the hallway and into a small lounge.
Rain pounded against the panes of the sole window, adding a muted backdrop to the melody. Go back, Jennie, a voice inside my head urged as I crept closer. Go back to that room and hide.
I couldn't feign ignorance. I knew damn well that there could only be one person playing that tune. The same figure who starred in dark, hazy fantasies that I couldn't quite yet force myself to remember.
Regardless, the sight of Lisa, studiously peering over a row of piano keys still caught me off guard. For one, she didn't look like the proverbial Devil in charge of my fate—merely a person stuck inside on a dreary afternoon.
The room itself was painfully simple. In fact, the piano was the sole source of both furniture and decoration. There were no curtains lining the window. No paintings on the bare, white walls, but somehow the notes of music made it seem more lived-in than even her well-stocked study.
As I approached, the final, thudding note of Moonlight rang through the room, and she quickly moved into one of Chopin's nocturnes without missing a beat.
"You're awake." I jumped as her voice rose above the melancholic notes, and gray eyes found mine from over the raised ebony lid.
I shouldn't have been surprised that she had sensed I was there. She'd probably known the second I opened my eyes. I'd bet that she could even hear the way my heart raced at that very moment.
"I-I'm awake."
"I can see that."
Her expression was wary, guarded. Almost as if she knew some dark, disturbing secret that she was waiting for me to puzzle out.
Unfortunately, I had no clue what it could be.
Perhaps that I probably wasn't the first woman she'd brought here and 'chained' down in order to feed? The setup of that room had been methodical, and while inside of it Lisa had been …different. Terrifying questions lingered, but I was much too chicken to voice them. As the seconds passed in suffocating silence, I glanced downward at the piano instead.
It was a marvelous instrument, really. Sleek and black and probably worth a small fortune, which struck me as strange. Considering the lack of adornment throughout the rest of her domain—aside from those books in her study—the piano seemed even more out of place.
I found myself tiptoeing closer, too distracted by the steady notes of music—which she still played despite my intrusion—to notice how her gaze never really left me for even a second.
During the decorum-laced hell that had been my school days, I hadn't really minded the forced piano lessons all too much. Of course, it was one of the many things I was subpar at, but playing hadn't seemed quite as torturous as everything else a proper 'lady' had to learn.
My gaze strayed to Lisa before I could help it, greedily drinking her in. she was wearing black again. This time, a crisply tailored shirt of the finest quality—but the first few buttons had been left undone and for once, that necklace hadn't been tucked beneath the collar of it, but hung freely.
A small part of me was intrigued as to why, but the rest was too entranced by the way her fingers flew effortlessly over the piano keys.
This was one of my favorites, actually. I had always been a staunch worshipper of the Romantic era—but I couldn't help frowning as I noticed a faulty note here and there as the refrain was inching towards a crescendo.
And just like that …the music stopped.
"Can I help you?"
I flinched at the cold sarcasm in her tone. "Nothing. It's just that …"
I came as close to the bench as I dared, trying to ignore the way her shoulders tensed at my nearness. She didn't move—not even to turn and acknowledge me standing there. A part of me was torn between scurrying away with my tail between my legs, and staying to prevent one of my favorite musical pieces from being, if only slightly, butchered.
"You switched up that last bit a little." Holding my breath, I reached down to quickly tap a series of keys. "It's supposed to be like this—"
"Jennie Kim," she began, cutting over me, "not only a prima ballerina, but a concert pianist as well?"
I flinched, stung by the apparent insult—until I saw her face. She had turned to look at me from over her shoulder, but the expression in her eyes wasn't cold or mocking. "Not a concert pianist," I blurted out of shock. "More like an amateur; trained out of fear of being rapped on the knuckles by Master Grudsky should I make a mistake."
She didn't reply.
"Were you trained?" I risked asking, just to fill the silence.
"No …" she glanced down at her fingers as if noticing for the first time that they even rested on piano keys. "Though," she continued, "it's not every day that one's playing talents are called into question by a woman who's probably never performed anything other than 'Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star' at a school recital."
Suddenly, she withdrew her hands and shifted over on the bench, leaving just enough space for someone my size to slip in next to her. "And I must admit that I am doubtful your memory could be better than mine."
It was only then that I realized there wasn't a sheet of music in front of her.
I swallowed hard, unable to resist the challenge she posed, despite the risk. "Oh, really?"
Tossing what remained of my hair over my shoulder, I perched myself on the bench beside her, as close as I dared. Ice danced down my spine in an excited thrill that I couldn't bring myself to examine just yet. Instead, I settled my hands into position without bothering to realize that I hadn't played this particular piece in nearly ten years. Biting my lip, I tried my hardest to remember the dizzying array of notes that comprised just the first line of music.
Then, aware of Lisa's unwavering gaze, I began to play. My fingers seemed to flicker across the keys of their own accord, and I found myself pleased at how much I could recall—apparently all those torture sessions masquerading as lessons had paid off.
Nonetheless, I was still horribly out of practice. I could feel my cheeks flush as my fingers struck a stray note. Then another. I faltered ...wracking my brain to remember what came next, and missed yet another note before butchering the order of the next few. Years of inactivity were my enemy; I doubted I could have played Twinkle Twinkle flawlessly.
Finally, I stopped, unable to even look in Lisa's direction. "Well," I said on a weak laugh. "I guess I wasn't …"
"Keep going." I didn't even realize that she had moved until I felt an icy chill ghost my hands.
One muscular arm encircled my shoulders so that her hands rested on either side of me. her thumb nudged my index finger, forcing it to strike the next key, and the melody picked up again; slowly, haltingly. All the while, she continued to guide my motions with nothing more than simple, light nudges, no less impersonal than taps from Master Grudsky's infamous cane.
But, limited by the narrowness of the bench, she was close. Too close …
Her head dipped low over my shoulder. I could feel the slow glide of what felt to be her nose, back and forth across the skin at the nape of my neck. The sensation sent a current through my body, causing my fingers to falter yet again. I swore that I could hear her breathing …inhaling?
Though, beneath her silent instruction, I didn't miss another note. She hadn't needed my 'expertise' after all, and I couldn't help thinking that something else must have caused her to stumble over the music before, but I was too distracted by her touch to wonder what.
After what felt like an eternity, I struck the final key at her prompting. The next second, Lisa withdrew and wordlessly slid back across the bench—but her chill lingered on my skin. When I finally gathered the nerve to glance in her direction, I found that her eyes were a wintry shade of gray. Frozen, and yet brimming with some unfathomable emotion I couldn't put my finger on.
Without warning, she reached out for a loose curl. Only, rather than tuck it back into place, she merely observed the lock from between two fingers, twisting it around and around before releasing it.
"Is there anything you wouldn't stubbornly attempt out of pride?"
Without thinking I turned to the window, watching as the rain came down. "Flying," I blurted. "Jennie the bumbling Kim has never learned to fly ...and I've yet to gather the nerve to leap from a roof."
I was surprised by the wistful tone in my voice; I hadn't meant for the words to ring so true. Either way, Lisa didn't respond, and I never mustered the courage to say anything else. For the longest moment, we sat there in complete and utter silence.
Then, finally, I heard the bench creak as she stood.
"I gave you your dose last night," she said, explaining the lack of injuries. "That should be enough to get you through tonight—"
"Tonight?" I sucked in a breath at her morose tone.
Rather than explain, she reached over me to shut the piano's lid.
"I have some business to attend to," she said while heading for the door—when she didn't make some backhanded comment about favors and contracts, I assumed that I wasn't invited this time. "You can stay here until the rain stops," she added, proving that thought to be true. "I'll have a car sent around midnight."
"Midnight?" Suddenly, it all clicked. Somi's pointed little reminder yesterday: we were to meet Raphael, it seemed. Tonight.
In all the chaos of last night I had nearly forgotten. Considering the way Jisoo, Somi and Lisa all seemed to refer to this man with that strange sort of uneasy reverence, I should have been terrified—but all I could bring myself to ask was, "What should I wear?"
She turned around to face me fully and this time, her expression was nothing but condescending.
"You must be mad if you think I'd leave that up to you. Speaking of which—" she casually flicked the edge of her collar with a thumb. "I've had that horrible creation you wore last night burned."
I flinched at the mention of 'last night.' Instead of reliving those memories, I focused on those gray eyes and the disgust in her words. Despite myself, I mourned my little tracksuit; it was the one clothing item I owned that had not been approved by Mother.
"Burned?"
"It was a mercy killing." she shrugged. "Jisoo will help you get ready tonight."
I noticed the way she said that, as if getting dressed tonight would, for the first time since I'd met her, entail more than just slipping on some flimsy shift and a hair ribbon. Before I could ask why that might be, she had already disappeared through the doorway. Stupidly, I found myself rushing after her.
"If you do decide to stay here," Lisa went on, as if she fully expected that I would, "I shouldn't have to warn you not to go snooping and poking about, do I?" I stiffened at the ominous tone and shook my head, despite the fact that her back was turned. With my eyes on the floor, I didn't notice the way she suddenly turned, reaching out to snag my chin in her grip. "I will anyway," she told me, eyes boring into mine. "Keep those pretty hands neatly folded, Jennie. You go peering into something you shouldn't …and I might just have to punish you."
I gulped so hard that my ears rung from the force of it. Without elaborating on what said punishment might be, Lisa dragged a thumb over my lower lip.
"Jisoo should come after nightfall," She added, pulling away. "You'll be brought to meet me a little before midnight." She paused, her back to me. "I shouldn't have to tell you this, but I will say it again: Jennie, this isn't a game. I won't be very forgiving should you choose to make a fool out of me."
Her tone was ice and I had no idea what she meant. But before I could ask her to elaborate, she was gone.
The rain just wouldn't stop.
It lasted the whole damn day, lashing at the windows of my Devil's lair with a vengeance. Like a whipped dog I found myself huddling within the piano room, too afraid to even touch the instrument, let alone attempt to play again.
I tried to keep Lisa's threat at the back of my mind: keep those pretty hands to yourself. Something warned me that she wasn't overstating her threat by a single bit, but still …
The temptation to wander was too great to resist. Besides, it was either sit in the corner and relive every fuzzy bit of last night, or take my chances and roam.
So, I settled for the latter.
I'll just look, I told myself as I shuffled down the hallway. One little peek …
But even Lisa's lair turned out to be just as infuriatingly pristine as she was. There wasn't as much as a speck of dust on any surface. No lint on the floors. Every room was bare bones with hardly any furniture, paintings or even a throw rug. Just stark colors, neat lines and polished spaces.
Mother would have loved it; a minimalistic abode without so much as a shred of anything that might have held some sentimental value. All in all, the place was as empty and cold as Lisa's soul. Or, so I believed, until I entered her study.
It was in the center of the maze of rooms, near the elevator entrance. At a second glance the books on the shelves seemed to be more than just random volumes with the sole purpose of being decoration. There was Chaucer, and Shakespeare. Poe. Even the odd Brontë novel, oddly enough. Some were old and tattered to the point where I suspected they might have been first editions.
Did my Devil do a little light reading in between terrorizing? Intrigued, I tiptoed closer, peering over at the desk before I could help it.
There, right in plain sight, was a stack of papers—tempting, mysterious papers just begging to be read by one particularly curious mortal.
Don't even think about it, my conscience hissed at me, who knows what she'd do if she catches you?
But I was already moving forward despite common sense.
She said I couldn't touch, I thought to myself in an attempt to rationalize my snooping, but she didn't specifically mention that I couldn't 'look.'
Therefore, I didn't feel a shred of guilt as I merely 'glanced' over the papers scattered there. The topmost one was just a slender strip of paper that read Receipt of Delivery. The business in question had a fancy, foreign-sounding name that I assumed belonged to some kind of boutique. The delivered items were listed neatly on the next line: one bed set, linens, headboard, mattress.
The total amount for all the items was absolutely obscene, but that wasn't why I found myself frowning in confusion—growing even more perplexed when I realized that the date of delivery was … yesterday's.
Had Lisa had a sudden urge to purchase furniture? Perhaps she wanted to rest her weary head on something refined after gorging on my blood?
But, then I remembered the bed. My bed to be exact; the one I had woken up on in that strange, bare room.
No. I shook my head, despite the fact that it seemed to be the only rational explanation. To even consider it would mean having to take into account two impossible facts; one, that Lisa Manoban had actually cared enough not to leave me in that terrifying room, strapped down to a metal cot. And two …
She had bought me a bed instead.
The possibility threatened to send my whole assessment of my Devil and her cold demeanor crashing down, so on an impulse, I did the only thing I could think of to distract myself. I reached out and yanked open the nearest desk drawer, ignoring the part of me that exclaimed in panic. No!
I half-expected for some kind of alarm to go off and for Lisa to appear glowering in the doorway. Naughty, naughty, Jennie.
But the hall remained empty, and I just couldn't resist my own curiosity any longer.
The first drawer held nothing of interest, only a pad of monogrammed paper and a set of silver pens. The second however …
Nestled against a box of envelopes I found something a little more intriguing. At a first glance, I assumed that it was nothing much—just a crumbled tabloid. Though, to be fair, did vampires even partake in the consumption of mindless gossip?
In my mind, I pictured Lisa sitting at her desk reading the latest on the newest trashy celebrity and grumbling to herself about what kind of contract she could use them for. I snickered at the absurdity, but a teeny part of me couldn't help but wonder ...
Forcing myself to focus on the task at hand, I blindly flipped through the pages until I came across a section that had been dog-eared.
Rosé Kim: Back in The City After Italian Jaunt, read the blazing headline that presided over a spread of pictures. In one was my beautiful sister, looking like she'd stepped off a runway rather than through the doors of the airport. Behind her, partially hidden in shadow, was me, bundled in a hideous sweater.
I frowned, remembering that day, nearly six months ago. It had been one of the few times that I'd gone to meet Rosé directly at the airport. As always, I was the last to find out about her little rendezvous until she showed up needing money, but that time had been different.
Rosé had almost seemed glad to see me, as if we were two ordinary sisters meeting after a long absence. That is, until she had disappeared once again, this time for Belize.
It was only then that I realized I had never sent her the money I promised. Poor Roseann. Had Pablo, or Fabio—whatever the hell her name was—run off on her already? Knowing Rosé, she had probably moved on to the next without shedding a tear.
The fact that Lisa had called attention to her picture didn't surprise me. Even in the grainy, candid shot she was still undeniably gorgeous. Though it did bring to mind something that Somi had said: You didn't think that she had just picked you out of a crowd? Did you?
I frowned while replacing the magazine and pushed the drawer closed.
Rosé was on my mind as I stood and returned to the main room, watching the storm rage outside. Lightning flashed across the horizon—just as suddenly as the thought that raced across my consciousness. Why me?
Surely, if anyone had wanted to add a Kim to their collection of souls, they would choose my beautiful sister over me?
Maybe it was like Lisa had said; she only preyed on the desperate, those pathetic enough to bargain. In a nutshell, me.
But you're not exactly the one begging your older sister for money every damn month.
I didn't know how long I stood there, leaning against a wall. The muscles in my legs had begun to ache when a sudden noise snapped me from my daze, and I was surprised to find that the sky had already grown dark.
"Jennie?" I started at the sound of Jisoo's voice. A second later, light flooded the room, cast by a nearby sconce. "I thought you might be here," Jisoo added as she crossed the room. Slung over her arm was another black garment bag, no doubt containing the infamous outfit for tonight. "I went by your home, but you weren't there …"
There was a question in her eyes, one that I wasn't quite ready to answer considering that I was standing in the middle of Lisa's secret lair wearing only a flimsy shift. Instead, I jumped slightly and glanced at the window, startled by a sudden rumble of thunder.
"Well, then." I turned to find that Jisoo had set aside her garment bag, slim fingers flashing as she undid the zipper. "What do you think?"
I could only stare in shock as she withdrew a floor-length gown in a dark, deep shade of red comparable only to blood. It took a minute before I realized that she meant for me to wear it.
"Are you serious?" I shook my head. "I don't think …"
"Lisa's orders," she insisted, casting an admiring glance at her handiwork. Her expression was uncharacteristically gleeful, and I had a suspicion that once again she had taken her liberty with my wardrobe, Lisa be damned. "And that's not all."
With a mysterious smile she reached into the garment bag and withdrew something small and black that seemed even more foreboding than the gown did. It was a mask. Elegantly formed, and decorated with shiny, ebony feathers, each half of it resembled a wing.
"Am I going to a masquerade?" I asked weakly, more intimidated by the prospect than I cared to admit.
Lisa and balls were two subjects that didn't seem inclined to mix—not without some morbid twist, which made me picture another dreaded auction. Or perhaps a newer, more humiliating form of torture?
Jisoo's expression didn't help relieve my suspicions at all. "Let's get you ready," she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Lisa made it quite clear that you cannot be late—"
"T-To meet Raphael?" I couldn't explain how it felt to say that name outside of Lisa's presence; it was a bit like mumbling Bloody Mary before a darkened bathroom mirror. Shivers ran down my spine.
"Yes," Jisoo said, but if I had been hoping for reassurance, I was sorely disappointed. Her expression was guarded—that stupid mask held more emotion. You're doomed, it whispered to me, staring through empty eye sockets. Doomed ...
But at least you'll be in a pretty dress. There was no denying that. After Jisoo led me to an unexpectedly large bathroom, I bathed and found myself draped in yards of red silk.
On me, the gown had no shape, despite how many last-minute alterations Jisoo attempted with a needle and thread pulled from nowhere—but the cut was pretty, sophisticated. However, a long slit, reaching nearly to my hip, had me apprehensive as I took in my appearance.
Biting her lower lip, Jisoo arranged my hair, smoothing the shorn curls as well as she could before she finally settled the mask over my eyes.
"There," she breathed from over my shoulder. "You look the part."
"Of what?" I wondered. A deranged Alice in Wonderland about to wander down one rabbit hole too many?
"Of …a woman mysterious enough to be on Lisa Manoban's arm."
"Mysterious? Me?"
The only thing remotely mysterious about me was how little I managed to fill out the gown in spite of how tightly it clung to my body.
"What should I expect?" I asked to change the subject. It was strange watching my mouth move from beneath the line of the mask. I hardly recognized myself. Who was this pale stranger with haunting green eyes? What secrets hid beneath her mask?
Jisoo stood back, eyes shrouded in shadow. For the first time, I sensed the unease that I supposed she had been trying her hardest to hide all along. Lisa had seemed just as ominous, I remembered.
This meeting tonight might as well have been synonymous with 'your demise.'
"What has she told you?" Jisoo asked, reaching up to twirl a piece of her black hair around her finger. "Anything at all?"
I shrugged, though I couldn't resist the urge to scoff. Lisa? Tell me things? Ha!
Not that you truly wanted answers, a part of me whispered. If you did, you would have taken Somi up on her offer, damn the risk.
I cringed at the thought, and almost didn't notice that Jisoo had started to speak again until she reached out to cup my jaw in her palm.
"Just stay close to Lisa," she said softly, eyes peering deep into my own. "Believe it or not, she won't let anyone harm you."
I blamed shock for the fact that I didn't snicker at the statement like I should have. Lisa, protect me?
Jisoo's gaze was way too dark for her to have been joking. Though, the larger question was—from what would I need protection?
"Forgive me for the word choice, Jennie," she added, a little cautiously. "But what was that saying, again? You will be the shiny new toy on the playground. Be careful."
I frowned. Strange word choice indeed. After all, even if I was a 'new toy,' who on earth would want to 'play' with me?
I wasn't exactly the ravishing sort—as proven by that disastrous auction. Perhaps that was why Lisa had been given another contract? Someone worth auctioning, like the beautiful blonde?
Once again, I was reminded of Rosé and I couldn't help but picture her here, a vision in red.
"Don't worry," Jisoo insisted, tucking a loose curl behind my ear. "Come, the car is out front."
Heart heavy, I turned away from my reflection.
Who knew? My Devil's Hell might have been safer than anything else that awaited me in this dark world.
What a terrifying thought.
"Oh!" Suddenly, Jisoo paused, snapping her fingers in the air. "I forgot to remind Lisa to give you your dose tonight. I will—"
"She already did last night," I said, remembering her words from earlier that morning.
"Last night?"
"After she fed," I clarified.
"What?" Abruptly, Jisoo whirled around to face me. She looked horrified, as if she had suddenly put two confusing puzzle pieces together and couldn't believe the outcome. "She …fed from you?" Her tone implied something else entirely: and you're not dead? Without warning she reached out, batting the hair away from my neck to peer at the smooth, pale skin. Her frown only deepened. "And you're …okay?"
I didn't like the way she said that. Okay?—as if I had gone tap dancing through a field of lions and lived to tell the tale.
"Is something wrong?"
"No—" Jisoo shook her head once. "No ... It's just that …" She trailed off, biting her lower lip and I wondered if her feeding habits were one of the many things about Lisa she wasn't permitted to tell me. "It's just that …she doesn't often feed from a live host."
My breath caught at her choice of words. 'Live' host.
It was a statement far too dangerous to question, once I recalled the morgue-like setup of that feeding room. The metal slab in the center took on a new, morbid connotation and it was a painful few seconds before I could feel air start to trickle back into my lungs.
"I was surprised, that's all," Jisoo added, though it was obvious that she was still shaken by what I'd told her. Her eyes never quite left my face, even as she turned back to the doorway. "Come," she said finally, ushering me forward. "You cannot be late."
Lisa's words whispered across my mind just then: don't make a fool out of me.
Dressed in the color of blood, moments from meeting a vampire who, apparently, would make all my worst nightmares seem like fairy tales …
What could possibly go wrong?