A Beautiful Torment

19. Agenda

Nikolas appeared in the doorway of the dining room at eight-oh-three p.m. that Saturday night. His face was an emotionless mask, much like his mind, and he took his place at the long, mahogany table without a single word. Sophia hadn't been kidding when she said Draper disliked tardiness – his lip curled as Nikolas took his seat, and he stared coldly at him as he unfolded his napkin.

The table was long enough to sit sixteen people. Naturally, Draper sat at the head of the table, his gloved hands resting delicately on the surface of the table. Both Nikolas and I were seated halfway down the table, opposite each other – far enough from Draper that it was almost comfortable to be in his presence, but close enough that I could feel the ice in his expression like a physical touch.

"You're late," he finally said.

My eyes swerved in Nikolas's direction. Rather than looking flustered and nervous, like I had expected, he returned Draper's freezing look with an unperturbed expression. "My apologies, Master Draper. My..." He glanced at me. "... assignment took longer than I expected."

"But the matter is taken care of?"

"The package has been retrieved, yes."

"Excellent." Draper flicked his wrist oddly in the direction of the door and it swung open, making me jump. I quickly hid my discomfiture, but the amused glint in Nikolas's eyes told me that he'd caught my reaction.

Sophia walked into the room, her movements almost militant. I was struck, again, by how beautiful she was; her olive skin and dark, glossy hair were so exotically foreign and sublimely attractive, but the dead look in her eyes was severely off-putting. What had Draper done to her? At first, it hadn't quite registered that I was living with demons, but after the heart incident, I was starting to view this cold, dark world in a different light.

She set the plate she was carrying in front of Draper, along with a bottle of red wine. I couldn't read the label from where I was sitting, but I could hazard a guess that it was expensive. She returned twice more with mine and Nikolas's plates – along with a soda drink for me. I didn't bother to comment on the irony of Draper adhering to the legal drinking age when he committed atrocities like cutting out peoples' hearts; the last thing I wanted was my heart winding up in some clock.

I stared at my plate, my appetite waning. It wasn't that food didn't look appetizing; in actuality, it looked delicious: it was some sort of fancy, pork dish with mushrooms and something else I couldn't identify... but the atmosphere didn't really encourage an interest in food.

"How are you settling into the house?" Draper addressed me after a few minutes.

I glanced up from my plate. If I answered, "fine", he would know instantly that I was lying. He had witnessed my reaction to the heart, after all. But I couldn't answer negatively, either, because he could take it as an insult to his hosting capabilities, and though I was loathe to admit it... I was afraid of what his reaction would be.

"As well as can be expected," I ventured.

Draper smiled coldly. "And your suite? It's decorated to your liking, yes? I'm sure I can have Sergei redecorate if you are unsatisfied."

I swallowed. "No, it's fine."

He inclined his head. "Good. If you're comfortable enough, then we can commence with your training."

A nervous feeling flickered in my stomach. "Training?"

He levelled an impatient look at me and leaned forward, his fingers steepled. "You didn't think I'd let you live here for free, did you?"

The feeling in my stomach morphed into unease as I repeated his words in my head. He had sprung so much on me already – the truth about my heritage, the heart, the truth about demons – that I had been too blindsided to distrust his intentions. My head started to spin with possible motives and ideas. I should have expected this. Of course demons had an agenda – I'd lived here for less than a week, and already I'd realized that demons didn't do anything without an ulterior motive.