THIRTY-SIX

The Prisoner

Allegra felt dizzy. She had no idea how long it had been since she had seen sunlight, how long since the Venators had stormed the place, how long since she had been imprisoned in the wine cellar. What was happening to Ben? Where had they taken him? What was going on with the vineyard, she wondered. The staff would worry, wouldn’t they? Surely Ben’s family was looking for them? Red Bloods were not completely devoid of resources.

She did not understand why Charles had not accepted her offer. She had groveled at his feet and begged for Ben’s life, but her twin had merely knelt down and gently removed her hands from his ankles. He had placed her back on the chair and then left.

Allegra was exhausted. She did not know what would happen next, and she let Charles back into her mind so she could send him hopeless, anxious messages through the glom, begging and pleading with him, telling him she would do whatever he wanted. But Charles did not answer this time.

She would not be forgiven, she thought. She had pushed him too far, he would never return to her, it was too late. He was bent on revenge. Who knew what he would do to her, or to Ben.

Finally, sometime after she had begged Charles for Ben’s life, the door to the wine cellar opened with a creak. But it wasn’t Charles or any of his Venators who strode inside.

“Oh hey, didn’t see you there,” Ben said, looking surprised as he took a bottle of wine off a lower shelf.

Allegra blinked her eyes, not quite sure this was real.

“Ben? Is it really you? You’re all right?”

He smiled. “You missed me that much? I just got back from the store.”

No one had taken him. No one had threatened him. He didn’t even know that any time had passed. Allegra realized with a shock that everything that had happened to her was in the glom, in the twilight world where time did not act in the same fashion. While it seemed as if months had passed, it was only a few hours in the real world.

Ben was wearing the same clothes from the last time she’d seen him: a red flannel shirt, dirty jeans, and work boots. “Henderson’s wants to place an order for another wheel of your cheese. If we’re not careful, we won’t have a vineyard anymore but a cheese cave,” he said as he pulled another bottle. “Thought it might be time to try the eighty-eight Syrah.” He looked up at her with a smile, but his expression changed when he saw her haunted face. “Legs… is something wrong? You’re looking at me funny.”

She shook her head and patted his arm. “No, I think I’m claustrophobic. I couldn’t find the bottle I was looking for, and I panicked from being down here too long. I’ll be all right.”

They walked up the stairs, back to the tasting room together.

Ben kissed Allegra on the forehead and returned to his studio to paint. She couldn’t quite accept that she was truly free, and was shocked to find that he had never been in any danger, that she had been wrong. Of course Charles would never do such a thing as harm a Red Blood. The pretty oak-paneled room was almost empty, save for one customer sitting on a far stool: Kingsley martin. He was nonchalantly reading a newspaper. He looked like any local, just another resident who’d come by to taste the new reds. Allegra approached him hesitantly. “What’s going on?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Kingsley smiled that crooked smile of his. “You’re free to go. I just thought I’d have a drink before I left; see if the cabernet lives up to the hype.”

“Why?” she asked. She wasn’t talking about the wine.

“Charles’s orders.”

“Where is Charles?”

Kingsley shrugged. “Didn’t say. Probably back in New York.” Everything had happened in the glom, and Charles had never even set foot in California.

“So what happens now?” Allegra asked.

The Venator laid down his newspaper. “The way I see it, nothing. I mean, I don’t think you have anything to worry about anymore. As for the bond—that’s up to you and Charles.

But between you and me, I think he’s done.”

Kingsley swirled the wine in his glass and took a long sip.

He tasted it for a moment, letting it cover his tongue. “Alas, taste buds never do come back once you have Croatan blood. I can’t even smell it. Is it good?”

“We’ve had no complaints,” Allegra said.

“I’m sure. Hope you don’t think too badly of us. We didn’t have a choice, you know. We only do what the Regis wants us to.”

Allegra nodded and began to wipe down the counter.

Kingsley read the paper and drank his wine. A thought occurred to her, and she asked suddenly, “Did you guys ever find out what happened with those diseased familiars?”

“What familiars?”

“Charles mentioned that the Red Bloods were dying of some new affliction and that a few of the Wardens were concerned since the disease looked like it was affecting new Committee members.”

Kingsley shook his head. “I haven’t seen anything about it in any of my reports.”

“Forsyth knows.”

“Probably his operation, then.” Kingsley nodded.

Allegra found it curious that Charles had not told his lead Venator. Perhaps the threat of the disease had proven to be in-consequential, just as she had thought. She slumped against the counter, holding her head in her hands. She could feel the emotional exhaustion of the ordeal begin to take its toll. She felt as if she had just gotten off a roller coaster, and was drained and relieved in equal measure.

“Oh, before I forget, Charles wanted you to have this.”

Kingsley slid over an envelope.

She tore it open. There was a ring inside. It was a bonding ring. The ring she presented him with in every lifetime. He was returning it to her.

It appears I am not the one this is meant for, Charles had written.

Allegra felt her stomach fall at the pain behind those words. She would keep the ring, she thought, but she would not give it to Ben. She would fashion a new one to mark her fi-delity. But she would hold on to the ring as a memento of her former love, her former life.

“Thank you,” Allegra said. Thank you, Charles.

In the end, Charles could not bring himself to kill his rival. He couldn’t kill Ben, and he had never threatened him.

There was never any real danger. Ben had no idea. Allegra felt profoundly grateful. The return of the ring meant she would be free of her bond, free to be with the boy she loved. There would be no blood trial, she was sure of it. Charles would never call one against her. The return of the ring said as much.

She slipped it into her pocket. “What else can I get you, Kingsley? On the house.”