Human subjugate. Tessa had read of them in the Codex: Subjugates, or darklings, were mundanes who had sworn themselves to the service of a vampire. For the vampire, they provided companionship and food, and in return received small transfusions of vampire blood at intervals. This blood kept them bound to their vampire master, and also ensured that when they died, they would become vampires as well.
“But Will is only seventeen,” Charlotte protested.
“Most human subjugates are young,” said Will. “Vampires like to acquire their subjugates when they’re youthful—prettier to look at, and less chance of diseased blood. And they’ll live a bit longer, though not much.” He looked pleased with himself. “Most of the rest of the Enclave wouldn’t be able to pass convincingly as a handsome young human subjugate—”
“Because the rest of us all are hideous, are we?” Jem inquired, looking amused. “Is that why I can’t do it?”
“No,” Will said. “You know why it can’t be you.” He said it without any inflection, and Jem, after looking at him for a moment, shrugged and looked away.
“I’m truly not sure about this,” Charlotte said. “When is the next of these events set to happen, Camille?”
“Saturday night.”
Charlotte took a deep breath. “I’ll have to speak to the Enclave, before I can agree. And Tessa would have to agree as well.”
Everyone looked at Tessa.
She licked her dry lips nervously. “You believe,” she said to Lady Belcourt, “that there’s a chance my brother might be there?”
“I cannot promise he will be there. He might. But someone there will likely know what has happened to him. The Dark Sisters were regulars at de Quincey’s parties; doubtless they or their cohorts, if captured and interrogated, will yield you some answers.”
Tessa’s stomach churned. “I’ll do it,” she said. “But I want to be promised that if Nate is there, we’ll get him out, and if he isn’t, we’ll find out where he is. I want to make sure it’s not all about catching de Quincey. It must be about saving Nate, too.”
“Of course,” Charlotte said. “But I don’t know, Tessa. It will be very dangerous—”
“Have you ever Changed yourself into a Downworlder?” Will inquired. “Do you even know if it’s something that would be possible?”
Tessa shook her head. “I’ve never done anything like that. But … I could try.” She turned to Lady Belcourt. “Could I have something of yours? A ring, or a handkerchief perhaps.”
Camille reached her hands behind her head, brushing aside the thick coils of silver-blond hair that lay against her neck, and unclasped her necklace. Letting it dangle from her slender fingers, she held it out to Tessa. “Here. Take this.”
With a frown Jem stepped forward to take the necklace, and then held it out to Tessa. She felt the weight of it as she took it from him. It was heavy, and the square ruby pendant the size of a bird’s egg felt cold to the touch, as cold as if it had been lying in snow. Closing her hand around it was like closing her fingers around a shard of ice. She took a sharp breath, and closed her eyes.
It was strange, different this time as the transformation took hold. The darkness rose quickly, wrapping itself around her, and the light she saw in the distance was a cold silver glow. The chill that flowed from the light was scalding. Tessa drew the light toward her, surrounding herself with its icy burning light, pushing herself through to the core of it. The light rose in shimmering white walls around her—
She felt a sharp pain then, in the center of her chest, and for a moment her vision went red—deep scarlet, the color of blood. Everything was blood-colored, and she began to panic, fighting her way free, her eyelids flying open—
And she was there again, in the Sanctuary Room, with all the others staring at her. Camille was smiling slightly; the others looked startled, if not as thunderstruck as they had when she had transformed into Jessamine.
But something was terribly wrong. There was a great hollow emptiness inside her—not pain, but a cavernous sense of something missing. Tessa choked, and a searing shock went through her. She sank down into an armchair, her hands pressed against her chest. She was trembling all over.
“Tessa?” Jem sank down onto his heels beside the chair, taking one of her hands. She could see herself in the mirror that hung on the opposite wall—or more accurately, she could see the image of Camille. Camille’s shimmering pale hair, unpinned, rained down over her shoulders, and her white skin swelled and spilled over the bodice of Tessa’s now too-tight dress in a way that would have made Tessa flush—if she could have flushed. But blushing required blood actually running in one’s veins, and she remembered, with a dawning terror, that vampires did not breathe, did not get hot or cold, and did not have hearts that beat in their chests.
So that was the hollowness, the strangeness that she felt. Her heart was still, in her chest like a dead thing. She took another sobbing breath. It hurt, and she realized that while she could breathe, her new body did not want or need to.
“Oh, God,” she said in a soft whisper to Jem. “I—my heart’s not beating. I feel as if I’ve died. Jem—”
He stroked her hand, carefully, soothingly, and looked up at her with his silver eyes. The expression in them had not changed with the change in her; he looked at her as he had before, as if she were still Tessa Gray. “You’re alive,” he said, in a voice so soft only she could hear it. “You’re wearing a different skin, but you’re Tessa, and you’re alive. Do you know how I know that?”
She shook her head.
“Because you said the word ‘God’ just now to me. No vampire could say that.” He squeezed her hand. “Your soul is still the same.”
She closed her eyes and sat still for a moment, concentrating on the pressure of his hand on hers, his warm skin against hers that was icy cold. Slowly the trembling that shook her body began to fade; she opened her eyes, and gave Jem a faint, shaky smile.
“Tessa,” said Charlotte. “Are you— Is everything all right?”
Tessa drew her eyes away from Jem’s face and looked at Charlotte, who was watching her with an anxious gaze. Will, beside Charlotte, wore an unreadable expression.
“You will have to practice a bit, moving and holding yourself, if you wish to convince de Quincey that you are me,” Lady Belcourt said. “I would never slump in a chair like that.” She tilted her head to the side. “Still, overall, an impressive showing. Someone trained you well.”
Tessa thought of the Dark Sisters. Had they trained her well? Had they done her a favor, unlocking this dormant power inside her, despite how much she had hated them and it? Or would it have been better if she had never known that she was different?
Slowly she let go, let the Camille skin slip away from her. It felt as if she were rising up out of icy water. Her hand tightened on Jem’s as the chill ran through her, head to toe, a freezing cascade. Something leaped inside her chest then. Like a bird that has lain stunned and motionless after flying into a window, only to gather its strength and leap from the ground to soar into the air, her heart began suddenly to beat again. Air filled her lungs, and she released Jem, her hands flying to her chest, her fingers pressed against the skin to feel the soft rhythm beneath.