by Tracy Wolff
I’m panicking now, terrified that Jaxon is hurt…or worse. What if Flint was lying? What if Jaxon isn’t a part of Lia’s crazy plan and I just left him alone out there?
I spin around, hands raised in a pathetic defense against what I’m sure is a fire-breathing dragon. And find myself staring into Lia’s wild and unhinged eyes instead. Eyes that only get more demented when she demands, “You don’t actually think you’re walking out of here, do you?”
60
Some Call it Paranoia,
But I Call it an
Evil Bitch Trying to Use
You as a Human Sacrifice
“Don’t say a fucking word,” Lia continues as she grabs me by the hair and starts dragging me up the tunnel. Pain—excruciating, overwhelming, maddening—explodes inside of me, and I clutch at my head, trying desperately to get some relief from the searing, tearing agony of being yanked around by my hair.
It doesn’t work, and for a second the pain is so sharp that I can’t even think. But it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Lia’s dragging me to my death. If I let her get me back into that room with the blood and the altar, I’m going to die—in what I’m pretty sure is the most awful, most gruesome manner possible.
So, to hell with her warning and to hell with staying silent. Sucking in a huge gulp of air, I let loose with the loudest, most hysterical-sounding scream I can manage while at the same time digging my nails into her hands hard enough to draw blood.
Lia curses and slams my head into the wall she’s been dragging me alongside. Which dazes my already not-functioning-so-great brain but doesn’t get me to shut up. Nothing is going to do that, I promise myself as I scream and scream and scream, even as I struggle to free my hair from her viselike grip.
Lia’s not having it, though, because this time she turns around and kicks me in the face. Not hard enough to fracture my jaw, but more than hard enough to have me reeling backward—which has the added benefit of shutting me up despite myself as everything around me starts to go black.
“Oh, no you don’t, you bitch,” Lia hisses at me. And this time when she hits me, it’s a sharp slap on my cheek. “You are not going back to sleep. The whole reason we’re in this mess right now is because I need you awake for this.”
That’s the best incentive I can think of to make myself pass out again. But unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to be in the cards, since the pain of being dragged along by my hair is definitely keeping me awake. I just hope if I survive this—or even if I don’t—that I’m not completely bald by the end.
We’re about halfway up the tunnel now, and Lia pauses. At first I think it’s to take a break—in the grand scheme of her vampire strength, I’m pretty sure I’m not making her strain much. But with her normally impeccable clothes ripped and her bloody hair matted to her face, she’s not looking so good right now. Which means, maybe she’s more hurt or worn out than I think.
The idea gives me hope, and I start to struggle again, but she’s got something else planned, because she’s definitely not resting. Instead, she tightens the hand in my hair until I stop moving, then she puts the other hand against one of the stones about halfway up the wall and pushes as hard as she can.
The wall shifts and groans, but eventually a whole section of it opens up, revealing a super secret passageway in this maze full of secret passageways.
It’s narrow and dark and there is nothing in the world I want less right now than to be in this stuffy, airless corridor with Lia. But as she drags me to my feet, her hand still fisted deep in my hair, it’s not like I have much of a choice. Especially when she shoves me inside first and then frog-marches me down this new alleyway.
We’re only a few steps in when the secret door closes behind us. As it slams shut, I have a moment of overwhelming anguish when I realize this is it. I’ve exhausted all of my options, and now I’m going to die here in this crazy labyrinth of tunnels, the victim of a vampire who has gone totally and completely around the bend.
And there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
The realization hits me hard, and for a moment it takes me to a place beyond despair and beyond hope. Because unless something changes fast, all I can do is pray that whatever’s coming is over quickly. Well, that and to make sure that I don’t give Lia the satisfaction of seeing me break down, no matter what she does to me.
I have a sick feeling that’s going to be next to impossible, but I’m still going to try. Because if I came all the way to Alaska to die, I want to do it on my terms, not hers.
And so, even as exhaustion sets in, I continue to put one foot in front of the other. Continue to walk closer and closer to the site of my own demise. And with each step, the hopelessness deep inside me turns to anger and the anger turns to rage. It fills up the emptiness, fills up the aching, until all that is left is a fire in the pit of my stomach. A white-hot flame that wants nothing more than it wants justice.
For myself and, more importantly, for my parents.
I’m here in Alaska because Lia wanted me here.
My parents are dead because Lia decided they needed to die.
She’s played god with too many people’s lives to just get away with it. I’m weak and exhausted and broken and human, but even I know that much. Just as I know she can’t be allowed to continue with whatever insanity she has planned. All of which means I’m going to have to do whatever I can to take her with me when I die.
I just wish I had a clue how I’m supposed to do that.
My brain makes and discards half a dozen feverish plans as we walk for what seems like forever. Eventually, though, we must get to where we are going, because Lia jerks me to a stop. She presses her hand against the wall, and seconds later, it opens just like the wall at the beginning of this passage.
All but cackling with delight, she shoves me through the open doorway and into the room where I was tied up what seems like forever ago. It seems strange to think that it’s probably only been an hour or so since I woke up spread-eagled on that cold slab of rock.
Then again, it seems even stranger to think that after all the pain and frustration I’ve been through in the last hour, I’m about to be tied up there again.
FML. And Lia’s, too.
“Move it!” she snarls, pushing me through the hundreds of lit candles to the raised altar in the center of the room. “It’s almost time.”
“Almost time?” I ask, figuring that getting her talking might buy me some time to think of something. Or buy me enough time for Jaxon and Flint to find me…though I’m not sure how much help either of them will be in this situation.
Flint’s answer to Lia’s insanity is to kill me before Lia has a chance to do whatever crazy thing she has planned, whereas Jaxon might actually be a part of her crazy plan. Not exactly a typical selection of heroes, but my mom used to say that beggars can’t be choosers, and right now I’m definitely willing to beg if it means I don’t become Katmere Academy’s first human sacrifice.
“The stars align at twelve seventeen.”
I have no idea what that means, but as Lia and I get closer and closer to the altar, I know that I’ve got very little time to do whatever I’m going to do to stop this madness. Because once she gets me tied down this time, it’s game over for sure.
With no other ideas and no other options, I make my legs go weak.
“Walk!” she screeches, but I ignore her as I let my head loll back and my entire body sag. Then, using every ounce of willpower I have left, I close my eyes and make the gamble that she won’t kill me right here, right now. And then I drop to the ground, ignoring the searing pain in my scalp as I rip out what I’m sure is a whole handful of hair in the process.
Lia howls in outrage as she loses her grip on me.
The sound bounces off the ceiling and echoes around the room in a macabre warning that has everything inside me urging me to run, to craw
l, to put as much distance between her and me as I can possibly manage. Even the voice inside me is screaming to get up, to get moving.
But even on my best day, Lia’s ten times faster than I am and twenty times stronger. Outrunning her isn’t an option even if I could move faster than the sad, pathetic crawl I’m currently limited to.
So instead of running, I play possum. Not running, not moving, not even breathing as she screams at me to get up. When screaming doesn’t work, she tries slapping my face a few times. And when that doesn’t work, she hauls me up herself, throws me over her shoulder and starts stumbling toward the altar with my head hanging halfway down her back.
That alone tells me she’s in a lot worse shape than she let on. Flint obviously did more damage than I gave him credit for. Good for him.
My injured shoulder is screaming at me in this position, but I ignore it even as I give myself permission to open my eyes for a second.
Everything looks exactly as it did when I ran from this place, including the jar of blood that’s still knocked over on its side. Lia steps around the glass containers and carries me past a stone lectern that has a book spread wide open on it. I have just enough time to wonder if it’s the same book she was reading from in the library all those days ago, when I have to close my eyes again and play dead—or at least unconscious—as she dumps me on the altar.
This is the best—the only—chance I’m going to have to get myself free, so I wait until she turns her back on me and starts trying to untie the knot on one of the hand restraints. Then I grab her hair and throw every ounce of my weight behind it as I push her forward and slam her head against the edge of the altar as hard as I can.
Lia howls like a banshee.
And since she doesn’t immediately strike out in revenge, I pull her head back and do it again, even harder this time. Then I scramble backward as fast as my bruised and battered body can carry me.
I don’t get far before she whirls on me with a growl worthy of a big cat episode on Animal Planet. It doesn’t stop me, though. Just makes me push harder through the pain. This time I’m not running for the door, though. Instead, I head straight toward the lectern—and the book Lia has resting on top of it.
It takes her a second to realize what I’m going for, but when she does, she lets loose a scream like nothing I’ve ever heard before. And then she leaps after me, clearing the altar with a single bound and landing right next to the lectern. But she’s too late.
I’m already there.
I grab the book, rip out the pages she’s got it open to—plus a couple on either side just to be safe. Then nearly cry in relief when Lia completely loses her shit.
She screams and lunges for me, but I use the last drop of strength in my body to jump backward even as I tear the pieces in half.
She’s on me in seconds, her claws and teeth tearing at me in a desperate effort to get her hands on what I’m pretty sure is some ancient spell. “Give it to me!” she screams as she rakes her fingers down my biceps. “Give it to me now!”
I hold on as tightly as I can, even as new blood flows down my arms. Then I do the only thing I can do to keep the paper out of her reach. I roll the both of us straight off the altar to the hard stone ground several feet below.
We land with a thud. Lia barely seems to notice the drop, but I’m half convinced the landing dislocated my shoulder all over again…and maybe even broke my back. Still, I’ve got one shot at foiling her plan—whatever the fuck it is beyond killing me as painfully as possible, so I ignore the pain as best I can and reach my hand out to one of the hundreds of candles burning around us.
And plunge the spell straight into the fire.
61
Sticks and Stones
May Break Your Bones,
but Vampires Will
Kill You
The dry, ancient paper instantly goes up in flames, and the sound Lia makes as we watch is like nothing I’ve ever heard before. Crazed, desperate, inhuman, it chills me to the bone.
It also brings to light what I’ve known all along—that what little time I had left is now used up. And there’s nothing more I can do about it.
Lia dives for the paper, grabs the remnants of it despite the flames currently devouring it. Her skin sizzles at the contact, but it’s too late. Anything useful is already gone.
She whirls on me with a snarl. “I’m going to enjoy ripping the flesh from your bones.”
“I have no doubt.”
The voice inside me wants me to get up, to run, but I’ve got nothing left. I’m battered, broken, and without my parents—without Jaxon—to run to, I can’t figure out why I’m fighting so hard anyway. I’ve foiled her plan, kept her from doing whatever it is she murdered my parents to do.
It will have to be enough.
She’s on me in seconds, and I wait for the kill shot, for new waves of agony to roll over me. But instead of ripping me to pieces as I expect, she lifts me into her arms. Throws me back onto the altar.
“Do you think I need that book?” she demands, dragging me to the center of the stone slab. “I’ve spent months preparing for this. Months!” she screeches as she reaches down and tears a long strip of cotton from the shift I’m wearing. “I know every word, every syllable of what’s on that page.”
She throws herself down on top of me and grabs my left arm. It’s my turn to scream as she wrenches it above my head.
She just laughs as she ties me to the metal ring I was tied to before and sneers. “Payback’s a bitch.”
She rips another strip from my gown, and though I kick at her, we both know it’s not going to do any good. She doesn’t even bother to slap me back. Just shifts her weight so she can tie my right arm up as well.
“I spent months searching for you,” she tells me as she climbs to her feet. “And then after I found you, I spent weeks planning your parents’ accident and planting the seeds with Finn that would get you here. Then more weeks making sure Jaxon was ready for you. And now you think you can ruin everything by burning a little spell? You have no idea.”
She staggers back toward the lectern, grabs the book from where it fell onto the floor. “You have no idea!” she screams again, brandishing the book like a weapon. “This is my one chance, my one chance, to bring him back, and you think I’m going to let you ruin it? You? You pathetic, miserable excuse for a…”
“Human?” I interject, even as my mind runs wild at what she’s suggesting. Bring him back? Who? Hudson?
“Is that what you think you are? Human?” She laughs. “God, you’re even more pathetic than I thought. You think I would do all this to get my hands on a human? One trip to town and I could have a hundred of them without even trying.”
I have no idea what she means, or even if she’s telling me the truth. And still her words go through me like lightning. Still they wake up something inside me that I don’t recognize but somehow feels the slightest bit familiar. Am I a witch after all, despite what Uncle Finn said? Is that what this voice I keep hearing inside me means?
And if I am, so what? There are more than a hundred witches at this school alone. What makes me so special? The fact that she thinks I’m Jaxon’s mate? Or something else? Something more?
There’s no time to dwell on the whole mess right now, not if she’s being honest about knowing the spell. And not while the clock is ticking inexorably toward twelve seventeen. “Are you seriously trying to bring Hudson back?” I ask, and though I know Lia’s crazy and that she plans to kill me, there’s still a tiny piece of me that might actually feel sorry for her…or it would, if she hadn’t also been responsible for the murder of my parents.
The fact that it’s Hudson’s death that did this to her, that made her so lost and broken that she came up with this ridiculous, convoluted scheme to bring him back…it’s pathetic and heart-wrenching all at the same time.
But still, there�
��s no way Lia can be allowed to bring Hudson back. Not if one-tenth of what Jaxon told me about him was true—and I know that it was. No wonder Flint and the other shifters were so adamant about doing whatever they had to to stop Lia, even if it meant killing me. But they were insane to think Jaxon would ever play a part in this. There’s no way he would ever try to bring his brother back. No freaking way.
Knowing this makes me feel horrible for doubting him.
“You can’t do this, Lia.”
“I’m going to do it. I’m going to bring Hudson back,” she answers. “And you’re going to help me.”
“It’s impossible, Lia. You can kill as many people as you want, find as many spells as you think necessary. But you can’t bring the boy you love back from the dead. It doesn’t work that way.”
“Don’t talk to me about what I can or can’t do,” she snarls, even as she pulls out her phone and holds it out to me so I can see the time. “In five minutes, you’ll know the truth. Everyone will.”
I really hope that isn’t true. I read Frankenstein last year—I can only imagine what abomination she’ll bring back from the dead if her little plan actually works.
Before I can say anything, though, the main doors to the room rattle on their hinges. Seconds later, the whole wall shakes, but the stones stay in place. As do the doors.
“He’s getting close,” Lia says, crawling to the edge of the altar and pushing to her feet.
“Who? Hudson?” I ask, shivers of horror sliding down my spine at the thought of a resurrected vampire breaking through those doors—and then doing God only knows what? Feeding from me because of whatever Lia thinks I am?
“Jaxon,” she answers me. “He’s been out there for a while, trying to find a way to get to you.”
Jaxon. Jaxon is out there. For the first time since I woke up strapped to this damn altar, I feel like there might be a chance to stop Lia. And to save my life. “How do you know?” The question escapes before I even know I’m going to ask it.
