Samhain Sacrifice Continued...
“An L…” Celeste couldn’t help the smile that tugged her lips upwards.
“Thank you, good evening,” Lily rolled her eyes and pulled Celeste away. “An L. Of course it’s an L. The same as that of the man who has hired them? Who is lining girls up at the gate to court? Shocking.”
“Oh dear gods yes,” Lily snorted. Celeste tried not to look disappointed. “All the girls are probably getting an L.”
“I suppose it adds to the mystique of the whole affair. Garners extra interest from the girls.” Though from behind them Celeste heard a girl squeal as an “M” was declared. She pushed it from her mind. Getting excited was foolish.
“Do you think he really wants to spar?” Lily asked, making Celeste’s attention snap back to her.
“I think so. He seemed genuinely interested. Why? Does the idea of sparring with a thousand year old warrior intimidate you sister?” she giggled.
“Warrior?”
“Indeed. Through many ages.”
“Many ages?” Lily’s eyes widened. “Exactly how much reading have you done?”
“A lot,” Celeste laughed. Enough to keep her awake at night and give her a migraine. But Lily didn’t need to know that.
Lily dragged her to dance and the girls took advantage of the revelry and being away from their mother before they spotted their looming family, waiting for them at the edge of the dance floor. Celeste could see their mother’s impatient foot tapping even at a distance.
“We can come back. The event goes on until morning,” Lily murmured. She sounded determined.
“What do you suppose they want?” Celeste had finally been enjoying herself, and the presence of Ragnar, their sister’s hulking husband, did not bode well.
“Ivy has probably discovered that not only does Lucien like cards, but that he drinks blood and occasionally whiskey,” Lily sniggered.
“How scandalous!” Celeste giggled.
“Girls!” The smiles vanished from their faces in an instant. “We have been looking all over for you.” Lisbet’s arms were crossed over her chest, foot still tapping.
“There was no need to fret Mummy,” Celeste wanted to head their mother off before the rant really got rolling. “We were dancing. And you have always said that to be seen dancing in the centre of the action is the perfect way to show off one’s beauty and garner exactly the right amount of attention.” Lisbet eyed her for a moment. The tapping stopped. The compliment to her wisdom had, it seemed, quelled her. For now at least.
“Come. There is much to discuss.” Lisbet drew them all to a table where Alder sat with a similarly tall, though much more slender man. Rollo, Ragnar’s younger brother. Once they were all sat Ivy opened her mouth to speak, but her husband cut her off before she could get a word out, earning a scowl.
“There will be a book opened tonight. Beauxment is offering people the opportunity to ‘opt in’ to his communications and potential visits.” Ragnar’s lips pulled up in a sneer as he spoke. Celeste couldn’t help but feel that his teeth always looked unnaturally sharp. As if he had already found someone to Turn him.
“It’s open for business, social connections and for those who wish to express interest in courtship. All of which would be useful to our family,” Alder murmured, earning a silent nod from Rollo.
“The book is going to be on the path down through the woods. On the way to the sacrifice.”
Her nose scrunched at that last part. They had all known. It had been on the invitation. Their mother never had been good with blood. “We should go early, so that we are higher up on the list. We do not want to get lost in the masses.”
“We mustn’t seem cloying,” Alder scolded.
“Not the earliest! Just higher up!” Lisbet said. Celeste winced at her mother’s petulant tone. “Oh, and we should register your business interest.” Bickering ensued between their parents, and Celeste found herself tuning out.
Once everyone had eaten Lisbet ushered the girls along towards the woodland path. The moon had risen, bathing the manor in silvery light. Shadows stretched further, hushed murmurings replaced the raucous chattering as people headed towards the woods.
“Heads high,” Lisbet instructed. “You never know who is watching.”
“It’s all so archaic,” Lily whispered as they made their way down the path towards a wide clearing, at the mouth of which stood a small podium with a large open book, manned by a boy in deep dark red livery. “Clever though. People have to witness the old practices if they wish to sign up. Or they have to face the public scrutiny of leaving after signing their names up.” There were already two dozen or so names and addresses in the book by the time they reached it. Some had put family names, others – individual men seeking political acumen, some were simply their daughters’ names. Alder snatched up the pen before Lisbet could, putting their family details down.
The crowd hushed, and a man ascended to the altar. He was stripped to the waist, old tribal tattoos marking his defined muscles. When dark red hair caught the moonlight Celeste’s eyes widened. It was Lucien. Like a god fallen from the heavens, carved from white marble against the moonlight. He knelt, head bowed before the altar. He was an adonis, a perfect dangerous creature carved from stone. She wondered if he would be cold to the touch. If his skin would be soft or hard.
Lucien rose, his hollowed cheekbones catching the firelight as the shadow herself wrapped her arms around him. A crown of twisted branches, leaves supporting a great set of antlers was placed on his head before the priest handed him a long, slender blade that flashed as the firelight glanced off of it. Heads turned as a large snuffling boar was led on stage by a second priest. Lucien started to speak, a language that placed frowns on all of the faces around them. A few people gasped as one, then two bonfires roared into life, one either end of the altar. Lucien raised a hand and when his fingers clenched, a gemstone buried in the hilt of the dagger glowed a deep dark red. The boar froze, lifting into the air. He guided it to hover over the stone altar where a large brass bowl had been placed. The crowd stood still. Celeste couldn’t’ even hear people breathing. A sickening gushing slice broke the silence and blood poured from the creatures neck. It fell over Lucien, streaking over his face and chest before spattering into the bowl in a waterfall of crimson. A few gasps filled the air, even a scream. But Celeste did not look away. She could not look away. Her eyes fixed on the man, the vampire in front of her, the blood so dark against his white skin it was almost black. He was a man who held life and death in his hands. When his eyes caught hers through the crowd, she felt a tingle trickle down her spine. The danger did not frighten her. It thrilled her.
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