The Oxford Inheritance (22 page)

“You know my grandson?” Henry asked.

“I'm at Raleigh,” Cassie replied quickly. “With Olivia too.”

Henry gave a small nod, but his scrutiny didn't stop. “And you decided to take a look around the place.”

Cassie felt herself wilting under his stare. “I'm sorry, I was curious.”

“You should be careful with that.” Henry's gaze didn't falter. “You know what they say about curiosity . . .”

It struck Cassie how alone they were, how far from the party. This wing of the house was empty and still, and they were the only two people around. “Of course,” she apologized again. “I'm sorry. I should get back to the party. They'll be wondering where I am.” She scurried from the seat. Henry didn't move as she approached the doorway, his head tilted slightly in thought.

“What did you say your name was?” he asked as she passed him.

Cassie froze. “Cassandra,” she managed to reply, thanking her mother for the first time for the new identity. “Cassandra Blackwell.”

“Hmm.” Henry Mandeville stared at her for another long moment, the seconds ticking past as Cassie's panic fluttered in her chest under those cold black eyes. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Blackwell.”

Cassie nodded quickly and then fled toward the burst of noise and laughter now echoing from the front of the house. Toward safety.

The countdown to midnight spun on in a whirl of champagne and music,
glittered jewels and a crush of tuxedos and silk. The grand ballroom at Gravestone lived up to its name: the huge room stretched the length of the house, its polished floors packed with hundreds of drunken revelers. Cassie drank everything in, overwhelmed by the cacophony of colors and sounds. Everywhere there was a mounting sense of anticipation, the hours slipping past too quickly to hold on to, the minutes dissolving in another flute of fine champagne. She tried to stay alert and watchful, but soon Olivia and Paige pulled her into the whirlwind, dancing through the night in the center of the crush, their shoes long since kicked off and forgotten, a parade of dance partners spinning them across the room. Cassie gasped for air, giddy, the brief burst of celebration lifting her out of the heavy numbness she'd been living in for so long.

“Having fun?” Olivia yelled over the music, gripping both of Cassie's hand tightly. She was grinning ear to ear, spinning them in the middle of the crush.

“Yes!” Cassie laughed, her heart racing with the dancing and bubble of champagne fizzling in her blood. And she was, the last threads of guilt and grief chased away under the sparkling chandeliers and glitter of confetti, a kaleidoscope of elation she wished could last forever.

They whirled on until Cassie's head was spinning and her stomach lurched with a dangerous pull. “I'm going to take a break,” she called through the din, but Olivia and Paige were already onto new partners, tuxedo-clad men who swirled them off the floor.

Cassie struggled through the crowd, emerging at the edge of the crush. She asked a waiter for directions, then headed down the hallway towards the bathroom. Inside there was a brief moment of peace, the cool white marble steady under her hands, cold water a relief on her flushed cheeks. Cassie caught her breath, gazing at her own reflection in the
ornate gilded mirror. Her eyes were bright, her features alive and joyful. A stab of guilt ricocheted through her chest. She wasn't here for partying and drunken fun. She was here for a purpose, and all this was just a distraction from her true cause. Evie. Rose. Dozens of dead bodies.

The doors flung open, and a crowd of women tumbled into the room, gossiping loudly with drunken shrieks. Feeling sobered, Cassie smoothed her hair and tugged her dress back into place before slipping back toward the party. It was almost midnight, and she could hear the revelry in the ballroom rising to a fever pitch. Couples and partygoers spilled out into the lounge rooms and hallways, clutching bottles of champagne and calling out their celebrations. Cassie ducked aside, narrowly avoiding a knot of red-faced young men in white tails who came charging through the house with a yell.

She was so busy recovering her balance she almost missed Hugo's grandfather weaving determinedly through the knot of people, trailed by another man in a badly fitting suit. Tremain.

Cassie startled with recognition. She hadn't known he moved in these circles, but she supposed it made sense, the way he'd supported Sebastian through their meeting. As she watched, Tremain followed Henry Mandeville into the ballroom, a fearful look on his face. Cassie picked up her skirts and hurried after them.

It was hard to keep up in the crowd, the whirl of color and distraction, but Cassie snaked after them, following them across the room. They didn't stop to take a drink, or even acknowledge the party at all; they just moved with determination out the French doors at the far end of the room.

Cassie slowed, edging closer to the door. She peeked out, not wanting to be seen, but the long stone balcony was empty, save for a couple busily groping in a grab of passion at the far end. She stepped out, confused, and looked around. There was no sign of Henry and Tremain at all, but as she moved closer to the balustrade, she heard voices drift up from the dark garden below.

“You're busy with the party. I shouldn't keep you.”

“I called you for an update. Now talk.”

Cassie couldn't see the men on the steps below, but she recognized the voices. Tremain sounding uncharacteristically hesitant, and Henry Mandeville, cold and authoritative. Their voices were faint, snatches on the cold night breeze, so she leaned out farther, straining to hear.

“There's nothing new to report. The case is closed; the coroner ruled a suicide.”

“What about the officer who was poking around? What was his name?”

“Charles Day,” Tremain's voice came.

Cassie's heart stopped. They were talking about Charlie.

“He won't be a problem,” Tremain continued. “Our man at the station says he dropped the request; it was just a routine media inquiry. You know, tragic history of the storied college.”

“Hmm.” Mandeville's response was chillingly low. “Do you know who he was talking to? My source in the data department says someone has been searching the university records too. I don't like it, Matthew,” he added grimly. “The Genevieve girl is one thing, but pulling records for Rose too? Somebody's talking.”

“I'm sure it's nothing.” Tremain sounded desperate.

“I told you at the time, boy, it was badly done.” Mandeville's voice was threatening. “I left Rose to you, and I've been regretting that choice ever since. We can't tolerate mistakes, not now. The rising is in a matter of weeks. There's no place for error.” He paused. “Perhaps we should have this Charles taken care of.”

“That won't be necessary,” Tremain replied hurriedly. “Everything's settled down now. No reports, nothing. I promise there's nothing to worry about.”

“There better not be.” There was a long pause, and then Mandeville spoke up again. “You serve at the school's pleasure. Don't disappoint me again.”

The sound of footsteps came, heading back toward her. Cassie lurched away. She quickly crossed the balcony, slipping into a shadowy alcove, and held her breath, hoping she was out of sight.

Henry and Mandeville climbed the stairs. Mandeville disappeared into the ballroom, but Tremain paused a moment, looking out across the gardens. The lights cast a shadow across his face, his expression tense. Then he turned back to the house and headed inside.

Cassie stepped out of the alcove, her mind racing and her heart beating fast in her chest. Evie, Rose . . . The Mandevilles were responsible for the deaths; there was no other explanation for what she'd heard. But how?

Cassie fumbled her phone from her slim clutch purse and quickly tapped out a text.

Don't ask any more questions until I get back. Will explain later.

“Who are you talking to?”

Cassie whirled around with a gasp. Hugo. “You've got to stop doing that!” She quickly hit send and tucked the phone away. “Just a friend,” she added. “Wishing her happy new year.”

“You're early.” Hugo grinned. He made a show of checking his watch. “You've got another sixty seconds by my reckoning.”

“In America, I've got another few hours,” Cassie told him with a hurried smile. Her heart was still racing in her chest, but something about the way Hugo was looking at her in the dark made it skip even faster. “Where have you been?” she asked. “I haven't seen you all night.”

He shrugged. “Parties aren't really my thing.”

She made a noise of disbelief. “Please, you guys make it an art. I remember Evie would stumble back at five or six in the morning almost every night.”

There was a pause. A shadow slipped across Hugo's face at the name.

“I'm sorry,” Cassie whispered.

He shook his head. “Don't be.” He took a step closer, and then another. “I guess things change, that's all. People change.”

Cassie blinked up at him. “You think you're different now?” she asked, her voice a whisper. They were alone in the shadows of the balcony, suspended partway between the loud cheers in the ballroom and the empty black of the garden beyond.

Hugo reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face. Cassie felt the touch as if she'd been burned. “You look beautiful tonight,” Hugo said, not answering her question.

Cassie tried to breathe. She felt unbalanced, standing so close to him. Too close.

Inside, the crowd began to chant the countdown. “Ten, nine, eight!”

“Tell me your resolution,” Hugo murmured, dipping his head closer to hers.

Cassie felt a pull, something deep inside keeping her frozen in place, barely breathing. “I . . .” she began, fighting to remember.

“Five, four!”

Hugo slid a hand around the back of her dress, pulling her toward him. Cassie faltered.

“Three, two, one!”

“Happy New Year,” Hugo murmured, as his lips closed the distance and finally met hers in a searing kiss.

CASSIE DIDN'T STAY FOR THE REST OF THE PARTY; SHE RETREATED
upstairs to her room as soon as the confetti settled. Still, even sitting in the quiet, alone and far from the revelry below, she felt the shadow of Hugo's lips on hers, the quicksilver of adrenaline in her veins.

It had only been a moment, the kiss. As soon as the cheers of New Year had receded, he'd stepped away with a quiet smile. Guests had spilled out onto the balcony around them, and the moment was broken, but Cassie couldn't forget the way she'd felt in his arms.

She'd wanted more.

Shivering, she locked the door behind her and stripped off her dress, pulling an old sweatshirt over her head and sliding between the heavy covers of the bed. But sleep was impossible with her heartbeat still racing in her chest, and the swirl of questions circling her mind. Cassie tossed and turned, trying to fit the pieces together in a way that made sense, but it was all a jumble of half-truths and suspicion. The only thing she knew for sure was that nobody here was to be trusted.

She wasn't sure how long it was until the dark finally claimed her, but sleep offered no rest. She dreamed again of catacombs, of running panicked through the darkness, searching her way out of the stony crypts. He was there, the figure in the darkness, calling to her with a force she didn't understand, until—

Cassie woke to the sound of her own gasps, panting for breath in the dark room. She clutched the bedclothes and waited for the nightmare to recede again, still feeling the dry heat of the stone tunnels, the
sharp taste of blood in her mouth.
It was just a dream,
she told herself, chanting the words in her mind until they blocked out the terror.
It was all just a dream.
Slowly, her pulse evened, and she could breathe normally again. She looked around, her eyes becoming accustomed to the dark.

There was a strip of faint light across the room. The door was ajar.

Cassie's heart stopped. She struggled out from under the blankets and darted across the room. The door swung open under her hand. The hallway outside was empty.

Cassie backed into the bedroom, closing the door with a click. Her mind raced. She'd locked the door behind her when she'd returned to the room, she was sure of it. These were old wooden frames, ornate and heavy; it couldn't have swung open by accident.

Somebody had been there.

Shivering, she felt suddenly vulnerable and exposed, there in a house where nothing was as it seemed.

She heard faint laughter from outside the windows. Tugging her sweatshirt down over bare thighs, Cassie crossed the room and opened the iron-paned glass wider, peering out into the pitch-black night. Security lights were set along the walls, casting a glow over the side of the house. As she watched, a cluster of shadows skirted the building, their voices hushed. Drifts of laughter carried up to her on the night breeze, along with hissed
shhh
sounds.

Cassie ducked back, her heart pounding again, but this time with anticipation, not fear. She pulled on her jeans and sneakers, fumbling in the dark, then quickly left the bedroom, tiptoeing swiftly down the hall and main staircase to the ground floor. It took her a moment to get her bearings, lit by the low light of the lamps along the hall, but then she quickly raced back through the great ballroom, now littered with spent confetti and empty wineglasses. Outside on the balcony, the night air was a shock of cold against her skin; she bound down the flight of stone steps to the garden and hesitated, looking around.

It was a cloudy night, cold and crisp, and the moon was almost hidden. There was no sign of the movement she'd seen from her window. Cassie was alone, the black stretching around her, dark hedgerows looming up in the night.

Then she caught a glimpse of light, flickering across the lawn. A lamp or cell-phone display. Cassie took off across the lawn, jogging slowly, trying to keep to the edge of the gardens where shadows would mask her figure. She skirted around the edge of the walled garden, following the light that danced and bounced ahead of her, heading farther away from the house. As she drew closer, she could hear voices—louder now that they were out of earshot of the main building.

“Why do I always have to be the one to carry everything?”

“Because you're a big strong man, silly.”

“Right, cast feminism aside the moment you want a favor.”

“Shh, cut it out. Someone will hear!”

“Relax, Liv, it's four in the morning. Nobody's listening.”

Cassie crept after them, picking out the voices. Olivia, Paige, Miles . . . there were half a dozen people in the group at least, heading toward the large shadowed hedgerow on the far side of the lawn. She kept her distance, careful not to come too close in case they heard her footsteps, but she needn't have worried; their laughter carried back to her until the flickering light went dark and the voices were swallowed up out of hearing.

Cassie arrived at the hedge and stopped. It was the entrance to the maze, she realized, the square-cut bushes lining a gravel path, snaking into the black. Her heart fell. She could hear Olivia and the rest of the group inside, getting farther away from her, but she could barely make out the shrubs in front of her; would she even be able to find her own way in the dark if she let them get too far ahead?

She'd come too far to turn around and slip quietly back to her room. She stepped onto the pathway, gravel crunching under her feet as she reached to trace her way along the first, leafy wall. Her fingertips felt their way along the wood and scratchy branches, leading her deeper
into the maze, the hedges looming above her, blocking out even the faint light of the moon. The only sound was her own heartbeat, drumming in her chest.

Cassie stumbled on, praying she wouldn't miss the route. Olivia and the rest would know the path by heart, but she had terrible visions of fumbling around in the dark until morning and, worse, having to explain her nighttime wanderings. She was just beginning to wonder if she should have turned back to the house when her fingertips found something soft against the branches. A ribbon pulled taut, tied between the branches. Cassie felt a rush of relief, gripping tight to the guide. No wonder they were moving so fast ahead of her. Someone had tied the ribbon in place to steer people through the twisting paths. Cassie took hold, running the ribbon between her hands and following the path marked along the branches, her footsteps quickening until she could hear voices again.

“Pour me another!”

“Shh.”

“You can stop that now. We're miles from the house, nobody will hear.”

Cassie silently crept closer. She found a gap in the hedgerow, a narrow sliver of a window, and she crouched down, peering carefully through the gap.

On the other side, the center of the maze was marked with a crumbling stone fountain and several statues. Olivia, Paige, Miles, and several others were setting lanterns around the perimeter, flooding the space with light. There were more people than Cassie had expected: she recognized Olivia's professor friend, Lewis, and a few of the party staff, two waitresses who were still dressed up in their uniforms, their hair falling out of their pinned styles, and a flush-cheeked boy who couldn't have been more than nineteen. They were clutching bottles of champagne, giggly and full of anticipation.

“So what's the big surprise?” one of the girls asked.

Paige smiled at her, moving closer to stroke her hair back from her face. “The after-party is the surprise,” she said, laughing. “Were you expecting something more?”

“She means the good stuff,” Miles spoke up, languid, from where he was lying on his back on the edge of the fountain. “Who brought the gear?”

“I did.” Olivia settled on a blanket and patted the spot beside her. Lewis dropped obediently down. As Cassie watched, Olivia pulled a slim box from her bag, carved and ornate. She opened the lid and offered it to Lewis. He took something from it and lifted it to his lips.

Olivia offered the box to the girls.

“I don't know . . .” One of them hesitated. “I think I'll just stick with the booze.”

“Don't be scared.” Paige reached into the box and lifted her fingertip to the girl's lips. Cassie caught a glimpse of a tiny white pill on her finger. “It'll be fun,” she murmured, slipping the finger into the girl's mouth and following with her lips, leaning in to kiss the other girl until she broke away, giggling and flustered.

The box was passed around until every guest had taken a pill. But only the guests; none of the Raleigh group took one, Cassie noticed.

“Now what?” The blond girl looked around. “I don't feel anything.”

“You will.” Olivia smiled. Lewis lay down, resting his head in her lap like a pet, and Olivia slowly stroked his head. “You'll feel everything.”

Cassie stayed glued to the gap in the hedges, watching with a growing sense of unease as the guests passed champagne and chatted among themselves. Olivia was too calm; she was waiting for something, Cassie could tell. And it was the same with the others. They relaxed, watching the newcomers with such a calm sense of power that it reminded Cassie of lions on the savannah, lazily circling their prey.

Then Lewis let out a whimper.

Cassie startled at the noise. Olivia's eyes drifted closed, her head tilting back, an expression of ecstasy on her face. Lewis's body jerked, shuddering on the ground, and Cassie could have sworn she saw the air shimmer between them, a surge of energy pulsating up from where Olivia's hand rested against his head.

Cassie caught her breath, looking to the rest of them. One of the partygoers lay on the bench beside Paige, moaning softly as Paige cradled her body. The boy was on the ground beside Miles, thrashing as if in the grip of a nightmare. And all the while, the air pulsed around them, a vivid glow emanating from their bodies like an aura, some whirl of energy. Cassie shivered, unable to look away. She couldn't explain what was happening, but somehow, she understood. They were taking something, drawing some kind of power from their victims, delighting in the surge of energy that crested between them, an unholy bond. It was wrong, that much was clear. A violation. The noises the guests were making were faint, animal, whimpers of distress, while Olivia and the others seemed to revel in it, their faces lit up and euphoric, almost orgasmic in the glowing lights. Everything in Cassie's body screamed at her to run, but she bit back the compulsion. She had to find out more.

Slowly, the group came up for air, releasing the guests who lay motionless beside them. All except Olivia. The energy hummed around her, and Lewis thrashed again, his whimpers turning into cries.

“Liv,” a warning voice came, and then Hugo stepped out of the shadows. Cassie gasped. He'd been there all along?

“Liv, you need to be careful,” Hugo warned again “Liv!” He strode over and pulled her back from Lewis. Olivia's eyes flew open.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, panting and disheveled.

“You're going too far,” Hugo exclaimed. “I told you, you've fed too many times. You need a new source.”

“But I like this one,” Olivia said, her voice pouting. “His mind is so . . . delicious.” She stroked Lewis's hair again, possessive.

“And soon there'll be nothing left,” Hugo replied grimly. “God, can't you control yourself for once? You know what happened last time.”

Olivia caught her breath. Her hair shimmered gold in the lantern light, her skin radiant with exhilaration. “How many times do I have to tell you I'm sorry? I didn't know how unstable she was. Lewis is fine. I know how far to take him.” Olivia ran a hand over him, a smile teasing on her lips.

Hugo didn't relent. “And Evie was fine too, until you pushed her over the edge.”

Cassie's blood ran cold. She clutched the branches for balance, her mind racing back over what she'd seen. They'd done this to Evie?

“Hugo, enough with the stern father act. You're ruining the fun,” Miles spoke up. He stretched lazily, trailing one hand over the boy's comatose body. “Come play with my guy, he's fresh. Brimming over with youthful possibility.”

“I'm not in the mood.” Hugo's face was set, his jaw clenched.

“Look, I'm sorry.” Olivia sighed again. “It was an accident. It wasn't your fault.”

“You should never have done it in the first place,” Hugo told her, angry. “There are rules. She was one of us.”

“If propriety's what's got you all riled up, where's Cassie?” Olivia asked, giving a wicked smile. “You said you'd bring her. It's not like you to miss a feed.”

At the mention of her name, every muscle in Cassie's body clenched with fear.

There was a pause. “She's proving . . . resistant,” Hugo replied at last.

The others sat up, looking interested. “Resistant, how?” Paige asked.

Hugo looked reluctant. “I don't know, I've never felt anything like it. I can form the connection, but then it's like her mind is closed off to me. Something's pushing back.”

Cassie felt sick. He'd done this to her—or, at least, tried to?

But the others weren't surprised by the revelation, only the fact he hadn't succeeded.

“So she's strong . . .” Olivia mused, thoughtful. “Is she a candidate?”

“No,” Hugo replied quickly.

“The rising is soon. We need an offering,” Olivia pressed him.

“We've got Lewis,” Hugo said. “You said he'd volunteer.”

“He'd do anything if I asked,” Olivia said dismissively. “But if Cassie is stronger . . .”

“I said no,” Hugo barked. “You don't touch her, you hear me?”

There was silence. Cassie forced herself to still her breathing. She was crouched, unmoving, but a single motion could reveal her presence. And then what would they do with her?

Olivia stared back at Hugo coolly. “I hear you, cousin. Loud and clear.”