Tainted (The Soul Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  Kat started across the room, but Nicola put a hand on her arm. “Strange, isn’t it, that you weren’t chosen, Kathryn?”

  Kat stopped and slowly turned back. “What do you mean?” From the corner of her eye, she saw Marianne give a small shake of her head.

  Nicola’s eyes lit up. “That you weren’t chosen by your father to be a Tower apprentice.”

  Kat’s cheeks grew hot. “I’m sure he had his reasons. After all, it would seem like favoritism if he chose his own daughter.”

  Nicola let out a polite laugh. “Or perhaps there is more. I noticed he never came to visit you at the academy over the last two years. Or even spoke to you today.”

  Had Nicola been watching her all this time? Of course she had. Kat’s cheeks burned even brighter.

  Nicola gave her a dismissive wave. “Perhaps he is ashamed of his dense daughter.”

  “Nicola, that’s ridiculous! Everyone knows Kat was one of the best in class!” Marianne’s eyes blazed.

  “Then why did he pass over his own daughter?”

  Kat clenched and unclenched her hands and her blood whooshed inside her veins. She had to get away before she lost control. “Please excuse me.” She turned around and spotted a double set of glass doors at the far side of the room, opening up to a balcony.

  Behind her, she heard Marianne speak. “Maybe he has other plans for his daughter . . .”

  Kat pressed a hand to her cheek. It was getting worse. A month ago, she would have been able to ignore Nicola’s barbs, but tonight she couldn’t keep Nicola’s words out of her head.

  She made her way through the crowd, past the men and women, past the chairs where the older dignitaries sat. Couples spun along the dance floor like colorful human-sized tops.

  She reached the glass doors and stepped out onto the balcony.

  A man stood beside the stone railing, looking over the gardens beneath the moonlight.

  Kat stopped and sucked in her breath. “Pardon, me. I didn’t realize . . .”

  He turned around.

  She paused, her mouth open. She knew him from somewhere.

  He was medium height, with a small mustache and a patch of hair below his lips. His blond hair was parted and brushed to the side. He wore a knee length leather duster that gathered across his midsection, then flowed out from his waist. But it was his eyes that caught her attention. They were a peculiar shade of hazel, with a deep green band ringing the pupil.

  He stared at her with that same vague recognition on his face.

  She tilted her head. “Do I know you?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he gave her a cold, but polite bow and then walked past her back into the ballroom, his overcoat brushing past her dress.

  Kat turned and watched him disappear into a crowd of men. She held her hand in a fist against her heart. What in the world had she done to illicit such a chilly response from him? And how did she know him? He seemed so familiar.

  She let out a long breath and approached the railing; at the exact spot the strange man had been standing moments ago.

  A cool breeze brushed her heated face. She gripped the railing and looked over the garden. The moon was full tonight, casting its pale light across the manicured trees and rosebushes. Gravel paths weaved through the well-kept grass and led to a white terraced pavilion in the middle of the garden. The soft streams of music floated out from the doors behind her.

  She leaned forward and placed her chin on her hand. She wanted to move on with her life, more than anything. But she couldn’t move past the question of why her father had not chosen her. Why? What was wrong with her that her father would ignore her all these years, as long as she could remember?

  Her brows furrowed. Was it possible he knew? Did he know about the monster that lurked inside her?

  No, he couldn’t possibly know. If he did, he would not have ignored her. He would have studied her, tested her, and experimented on her.

  Kat straightened. Perhaps she should be thankful for his indifference. At least he hadn’t discovered her secret. And she would keep it that way.

  “Kathryn, are you all right?”

  Kat turned and found Marianne standing in the doorway.

  “You shouldn’t listen to Nicola. You are one of the brightest people I know.” Marianne looked down. “Even more so than me. I don’t know why I was chosen to be an apprentice.”

  “Marianne, it’s all right.”

  Marianne looked up

  Kat smiled. “I can’t think of another person who deserves it more.”

  “I can. You deserve it.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know how well I would have done working with my father.”

  Marianne tapped her chin with her closed fan. “I hadn’t thought about that. Would you have liked to work alongside your father?”

  More than anything. “I don’t think it would have been good for either of us.” I wish he loved me, or at least thought kindly of me. “Anyway”—Kat gathered up her dress and headed toward the ballroom—“we shouldn’t miss out on this ball. Probably one of the only times we will be invited to the World City Gala.”

  Marianne’s usual smile came back. “You’re right. And I haven’t danced yet.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  11

  Stephen stared down at the gardens below and clenched his fist. He shouldn’t have come here tonight. This place only brought back painful memories.

  His gaze lingered on the pavilion in the middle of the garden, and a bitter taste filled his mouth. It was there he first met Vanessa over three years ago, during another World City Gala. She had been so beautiful, so full of life. Everything he had wanted.

  Stephen raked a hand through his hair. Except faithful, he reminded himself. He was lucky to have discovered her wandering heart rather than end up married to a cheating wife.

  Someone gasped behind him. “Pardon, me. I didn’t realize. . .”

  Stephen turned.

  A woman stood in the doorway, short, with thick dark hair and deep brown eyes. The dark blue gown she wore accented her young, curved body.

  Wait. His gaze came back to her face. He knew her from somewhere . . .

  She tilted her head. “Do I know you?”

  A hundred flashbacks snatched at his attention: Vanessa curious, Vanessa pouting, Vanessa coy . . . always with that same tilt to of her head.

  His insides clenched and he pressed his lips into a fine line. He bowed to the young woman without a word and walked by her, close enough to brush the folds of her gown. A whiff of her perfume drifted past his nose: something light and flowery. Not Vanessa at all. And he’d snubbed the poor girl mercilessly. Great.

  Resisting the momentary urge to turn back, he walked into the ballroom and spotted Patrick making conversation with a couple of bigwigs and their sons near the entrance. Now that Patrick was superintendent of the lower district, he was high enough to warrant an invitation to the gala, but still low enough to have to kiss the boots of every man there. At least Harrison and Vanessa weren’t here. Last he heard, they had eloped over a year ago, much to her father’s chagrin, and had yet to be readmitted to polite society.

  Patrick spied him and waved, his face an almost comical mixture of relief and desperation.

  Several people stopped talking and watched him as he bypassed the couples lining up on the dance floor to begin another set, but he ignored them. When he reached his friend, Patrick clapped him across the shoulders. “Stephen, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  Stephen shrugged. His own invitation had come from the World City council as a thank-you for his capture of Victor Manson. And, he had no doubt, to keep him quiet about anything Manson might have told him.

  The men with Patrick nodded in turn as Patrick introduced them, and a couple of the women giggled behind spread fans.

>   One of the young men—Henry Richards, Stephen thought—crossed his arms and studied Stephen with open skepticism on his aristocratic face. “So you’re the famous Stephen Grey. Is it true that you brought in the mob boss Victor Manson?”

  “I did.”

  The young man’s expression shifted. He uncrossed his arms. “Manson’s evaded arrest for years. How did you manage it?”

  Stephen glanced at Patrick and rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn’t here to share bounty stories. He came tonight because he knew he needed to get out more. Sitting home, brooding every night was not good for him.

  But now he was starting to think he had made a mistake.

  Patrick waved at the young man. “Perhaps another time, Henry.”

  Henry’s face fell.

  Stephen turned around. “I’m going to go get a drink.”

  “I’ll come with you. Gentlemen, ladies, please excuse us.”

  Patrick walked beside him as he crossed the room and headed for the refreshment table. “Thanks, friend. I thought I’d be stuck listening to old Councilman Richards all night. Henry’s his son, you know, and he’s all right. But once the old man gets started on Austrium and the war, there’s no getting a word in.”

  They walked by a group of young women who giggled as Patrick turned a charming smile their way. Stephen fought the urge to roll his eyes. Patrick always did like social events like these.

  The table was covered in white linen and held trays of biscuits, tarts, and small cakes. Cups of deep red punch sat to one side. Stephen picked up one of the cups and took a sip. Making a face, he placed the cup down and went for the tea set out at the end of the table. In the weeks after the event with Vanessa, he had been tempted to go to the tavern and obliterate every memory with strong drink, but he knew that if he started down that path, getting off it would be difficult. Since then, he’d chosen never to drink.

  Stephen poured himself a cup of tea and placed the pot back on the tray.

  Patrick stood beside him, sipping his cup of punch. “You should dance tonight.”

  Stephen tightened his grip on the handle. “I didn’t come here for the company of women.”

  “They’re not all bad, not like . . .” Patrick gave a small cough and took another sip.

  Stephen cocked one eyebrow and blew across the teacup. “Like Vanessa?”

  Patrick lowered his glass. “You need to move on.”

  “I have moved on.” He took a sip and let the hot liquid flow down his throat.

  “No you haven’t. You work all the time, then hunker down in your flat. That’s not life, Stephen. That’s existing.”

  “I came tonight, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, and I’m glad you did. But you need to do more than show up. Enjoy this evening. There are many fine women here.”

  “I already said I’m not interested in finding a woman.”

  Patrick looked at him. “Just one dance.”

  Stephen worked his jaw, his gaze roving across the room. Most of the women present were only interested in fashion, titles, and money. He had thought Vanessa was different, but he had been proven wrong.

  “There.” Patrick pointed across the dance floor. “Ask her. She looks like a nice, sensible kind of girl.”

  Stephen looked in that direction and froze. It was the woman from the balcony. She stood beside another young woman with carrot-colored hair and a long green gown. A tall gentleman walked toward them and a moment later the carrot-topped woman left for the dance floor.

  The young woman rubbed her arm and looked around the room.

  Stephen narrowed his eyes. “Who is she?”

  “I don’t know. But I do know she is one of the ladies from the Tower Academy.”

  Smart, then. He liked that. It meant she wouldn’t be giggly or boring. Hopefully. He finished half of his cup of tea, then turned back toward Patrick. “All right. I’ll ask her. But then you need to get off my case.”

  Patrick’s smile came back. “I won’t say another word tonight.”

  Stephen tugged at the hair beneath his chin. “And you’re sure you don’t know her name? She looks familiar.”

  “No. But she is beautiful. Who would have thought a woman like her would have ended up at the academy instead of out in society.”

  Stephen dropped his hand and shrugged. “Times are changing.”

  Before Patrick could say anything else, Stephen placed his cup down and made his way around the dance floor.

  As he approached, she looked up. Her cheeks turned bright pink and she looked away. Oh, that’s right. He had been a bit abrupt on the balcony. He straightened his overcoat. He would just have to apologize. “Excuse me, miss.”

  She glanced back, her eyes dark, her cheeks still flushed.

  “I am sorry about earlier this evening. You caught me off guard.” And she was doing it again. She was similar to Vanessa, but younger, with an innocence to her countenance that he now realized Vanessa had never possessed. Stephen worked his dry mouth and gave her a short bow. “Please accept my apology.”

  She gave him a small nod. “I accept. I’m afraid I was out of sorts myself.”

  Stephen straightened. “And how are you now?”

  “Much better, thank you.”

  He held out his hand. “Then perhaps you would join me for a dance.”

  She hesitated, her gloved hand hovering in the air. Then she took his hand with a firm grasp.

  Stephen led her to the floor just as the waltz began. Her fingers were small and curled around his hand. He slid his other hand around her waist.

  She stiffened and looked at him. Stephen led her along the floor. “Have you never waltzed before?”

  She shook her head. “I’m afraid I spent the last two years studying rather than dancing.”

  “It is a fairly easy dance. I will lead and you follow.”

  She nodded and bit her lip.

  Stephen guided her, moving slowly, placing a small amount of pressure on her waist to turn her.

  After a minute, she was moving as if she had always known how to dance.

  Stephen found himself relaxing. Patrick was right. It had been a while since he had danced with a woman. It felt . . . good. “You’re a natural.”

  She laughed—a strong, throaty laugh. “And you are a good teacher.”

  They made another round before Stephen spoke again. “I feel like I know you from somewhere. What is your name?” Blast it, where were his manners? He should have asked her before they started dancing. Come to think of it, he should have told her his name.

  Her smile dropped from her face and she glanced away. “Kathryn. Kathryn Bloodmayne.”

  Bloodmayne . . . Bloodmayne . . .

  It all came back. That first day at the Tower Academy two years ago. He was still on the force, overseeing the crowd. She was the girl who had fallen during a demonstration that morning. And there had been something else, too. Fire. Some sort of blaze had started across the pavement, and she had put it out with her hands. What a strange thing to remember now.

  Kathryn Bloodmayne.

  She had filled out since then, no longer a schoolgirl, but now a young woman. And if he remembered correctly, she used to be the charge of his Aunt Milly. He realized he had been silent too long. “I believe we met, briefly, a couple of years ago.”

  Her gaze flickered to his, then away, her body stiff under his hand. “We did?”

  “On your first day at the academy.”

  Her brows furrowed and he could almost see her thoughts racing through her mind. Then her eyes went wide and she looked up at him. “I thought you looked familiar. You were one of the policemen. Stephen . . .”

  “Stephen Grey.”

  Kathryn didn’t react to his name. She must not have read the Herald much during her school days, or else she would have. The
Herald just loved it when he made a particularly difficult catch. Stephen Grey, famous World City bounty hunter. It was kind of refreshing not to be known.

  Her eyes narrowed. “I remember you. I heard you were an inspector. Do you still serve on the force?”

  It was his turn to look away uncomfortably. No, she didn’t seem to know anything.

  “I’m sorry, did I say something I shouldn’t have?”

  His hand tightened across her waist and he watched a couple swing by. “Just something from my past. No, I no longer serve on the force.” Time to change the subject. He looked back. “You’re Dr. Bloodmayne’s daughter, correct?”

  Her lips tightened. “Yes.”

  Strange. Perhaps things were tense between her and her father. “I’ve heard good things about Dr. Bloodmayne.”

  Her face blanched and her lips tightened even more.

  Their dancing was smooth, but he felt like he was mentally stepping on her toes, and vice versa. Stephen let out his breath. “Perhaps we should just dance.”

  Kathryn nodded, the color seeping back into her cheeks. “Yes, that would be good.”

  As he led her around the room, his hand resting across the narrowest part of her waist, every few seconds he caught her flowery scent. Her hair was thick and dark and pulled back in a pile of curls. Her skin reminded him of a porcelain doll, her lips full and pink, chocolate colored eyes beneath full lashes.

  For one heady moment he forgot everything but the feel of a woman in his arms.

  Kathryn looked up at him and her eyes darkened. Her lips opened slightly. Color tinted her cheeks. Such a look of innocence. She probably had no idea the effect she had on him right now, the first time a woman had stirred him since Vaness—

  Blazes!

  Stephen stiffened and the moment vanished. Would Vanessa forever haunt him?

  When the song wound down, Stephen led Kathryn to the side of the room and let go of her hand. He gave her a short bow. “Thank you for the dance, Miss Bloodmayne.”

  She frowned and clasped her hands in front of her chest. “Is something wrong?”

  “I’m afraid one dance is all I am capable of this evening.”

  He turned before she could say anything more and headed for the exit. He had been wrong. He never should have come.