by K. A. Tucker
“I don’t know how Sofie keeps up with all these schemes of hers,” I muttered, feeling a twinge of envy over her brilliance. “I mean . . . this place!” I wished I had a hundredth of her cunning. She had designed an escape route for every escape route of every situation, even the most wild and unplanned.
Leo’s arms unfolded to punctuate his words with movement. “Oh, you don’t know the half of it! The cost and complexity of building this place up here? Creating a fully self-sufficient cabin on undiscovered land? It has taken ten years and countless helicopter crews. She compelled every single builder, supplier, bookkeeper—anyone at all—so as not to risk a trail here for Viggo or Mortimer to follow. There is nothing that woman hasn’t thought of regarding your safety, I can promise you that.” His declaration allowed me a large sigh of relief; I had a maternal vampiress watching over me.
But then those pulsating red eyes pushed into my memory and my chest tightened. “Leo, will my friends ever be normal again?”
Leo approached slowly and stopped next to my bed. “They were never normal, Evangeline. They’re vampires.” He paused. “I could help you forget them, if you wanted. But my magic isn’t like a vampire’s compulsion. I wouldn’t be able to isolate specifics. I’d likely wipe out the past month completely. You might not even remember them.”
“No!” I exclaimed, more a shout in the dead silence of the night. Not remember them? Forget the angelic ring of Amelie’s giggles? Forget the shivers that ran through my body every time Caden gazed in my direction? Forget that all-consuming warmth of love? Never. I modulated my voice. “No, that’s okay. I don’t want to forget what’s happened.”
Leo smiled. “That’s good, because I might accidentally lobotomize you.” He placed his hand on my forehead and said somberly, “You need your rest, Evangeline.”
I groaned. “I’m trying, but I can’t. Every time I close my eyes, I see . . . ” My words became garbled as a feeling of calm and peace washed over me; my eyelids became too heavy to keep open.
“Go to sleep now, my dear girl,” Leo murmured distantly, following that with a low chant. He was casting a spell, I realized. I didn’t care; the sound of his voice welcomed, soothed. I felt the lightest peck on my forehead just before I drifted off, meadows and children’s laughter replacing the image of Caden’s burning eyes.
A gray and white marble hallway stretched ahead of me, illuminated by wall sconces that flickered repeatedly, as if touched by a power surge. It looked like the hallway outside my room in Viggo and Mortimer’s home, only different. Was it wider? Longer? I stepped forward and teetered, then looked down at heeled shoes, three inches high, peeking from beneath the silky folds of a jade green evening gown. It was the same outfit I’d worn on the night of my eighteenth birthday. Instinct pulled my head to look over my shoulder for Max, but he was nowhere in sight. I was completely alone—an oddity within these walls, where there always seemed to be eyes on me.
And then it hit me: I’m dreaming. All suddenly became clear. This had already happened. I had already lived this.
What should I do?The atrium. Maybe I’ll find Sofie there. I walked slowly toward the stairs at the end of the hall, reveling in the feel of my gown, the odd sense of relaxation whirling around me. I hadn’t felt this peaceful since my birthday.
Suddenly the stairs disappeared and the hallway stretched out ahead for miles with no end in sight. A surge of anxiety replaced the warm, tranquil feeling; I was late for something, I was sure of it, but I had no idea what. I picked up my pace, rushing down the hall, hoping that the stairs would reappear. But the hall kept stretching farther and farther ahead of me. Finally I kicked off my shoes, hiked up my dress, and ran. My breathing became labored, the need to get to those stairs—to my destination—crushing.
As suddenly as the top of the staircase had vanished, it rematerialized. I skidded to a halt before I tumbled down the steep flight. I was no longer alone. They were there, climbing up the steps, broad smiles on their faces, Amelie’s blonde curls bobbing, Fiona and Bishop hand in hand. Just as I remembered them. They were dressed as finely as I, the girls in matching dresses but different colors—Amelie in crimson and Fiona in violet to compliment her sparkling purple-tinged eyes. Bishop stepped forward in a dashing silver suit.
I grinned. They grinned back as they glided up the stairs toward me, parting before they reached me to stand on either side. And then my breath caught as I glimpsed a mass of chestnut brown hair. Caden ascended the stairs behind them, wearing a custom-tailored black suit like those Viggo and Mortimer wore. He lifted his head and his beautiful jade eyes bored into me, sucking the air out of my lungs. My shoulders slouched with relief. I was where I needed to be. I had made it.
Caden stepped onto the landing and held out his hand. I moved forward and took it, then poured myself into his arms, into his embrace. “It worked,” he whispered in my ear, the words tickling my skin, sending shivers through to my fingertips.
I reveled in the feel of his chest against my cheek for a long moment, inhaling the intoxicating scent I had come to realize was Caden. Finally I pulled back far enough to gaze into his eyes as I curled my arms around his neck. They were just as I had remembered, so vibrantly bluish-green, so unhuman.
“I told you it would. You just needed to believe in yourself.” He smiled, lifting a hand to hold my chin before leaning forward to press his mouth over mine in a soft kiss. When he broke away, he whispered, “And now we can be together forever.”
“Forever?” Forever, with Caden. An impossibility before, but now it couldn’t happen soon enough. “When?”
His smile turned my legs to water. “Why not now?”
Something started to burn against my chest. Caden’s brow furrowed with confusion as he gazed down. I followed his eyes to the black heart pendant around my neck—the catalyst for my curse—alive with fiery red and orange swirls that danced as they had on Ratheus, when they worked to protect me. When they’d stopped me from being transformed. My stomach tightened with the sickly realization that I couldn’t have what I wanted. That I couldn’t be with him. Not yet, anyway. How would I explain it to him? Would he wait for me? A renewed sense of panic washed over me. Hesitantly, I looked up . . .
Into the pulsating, blood-red eyes of a thirsty vampire. The same eyes that I had met in the atrium, moments after arriving back with Caden. The same eyes that had poisoned all of my memories. I stumbled backward, gasping for air, terror ripping through me as I tried to distance myself.
“Join us,” Amelie’s playful voice whispered in my ear. Spinning around, I saw the others closing in on me from all sides, their eyes full of that same hunger. For me. My blood.
“I can’t yet!” I shrieked. They would kill me before Sofie reversed this curse! I had to get away, to save myself. I stumbled into a run, barely able to stay on my feet.
“Join us,” they whispered, trailing me. “Join us now or die.”
I screamed . . .
And bolted upright in bed, the sound of my scream ringing in my ears as it bounced off the wood-paneled walls of my tiny room. I was back in the cabin I’d been exiled to until Caden could control his thirst for blood. Pulling the duvet up around my chin, I focused on my breathing to slow my heart; it was thumping so furiously in my chest, I thought it might explode.
Bad dream? A concerned voice asked. I turned wide eyes on Max, now standing next to my bed. This was all too familiar.
My hands flew to the werebeast’s neck, seizing fistfuls of shiny black fur. “Please tell me it was just a nightmare, Max. It wasn’t real, right? Please!” I begged, my breathing still ragged, my throat burning as I sucked in icy air.
It was just a bad dream, he reassured me somberly. I’ve been by your side all night.
I exhaled noisily, flopping back into my pillows. “Oh, thank God.”
His deep chuckle filled my head. You’ll never have a regular bad dream again without thinking it’s real, will you?
Reaching up, I fumbled with the b
lack heart pendant. “Not while this blasted thing is around my neck.” The gift from Sofie was my death sentence if Viggo or Mortimer got hold of me. I lay quietly, replaying the nightmare in my head. As horrific as it was, it had allowed me a glimpse into the recesses of my mind, into my memories of Caden. Memories of what I loved. I needed to hold that in a death grip. If it meant reliving the aftermath, I would do it over and over again, night after night, I realized. But how many times would I wake up to the same inevitable end? How long would I need to torture myself with that fear before I could put it past me?
Staring up at the ceiling, I noticed the cloud billowing above me as my hot breath condensed in the room’s frigid air. I shuddered, pulling the heavy duvet up around my neck to ward off the cold. “Why couldn’t Sofie send us somewhere tropical?” I grumbled.
Max’s deep laughter rumbled inside my head again as he climbed up onto my bed. The bed creaked as if threatening to collapse under his weight, but he didn’t seem bothered as he flopped down to take up three-quarters of the mattress and share his body heat.
“So glad I amuse you,” I said, pushing myself up to sit cocooned within my covers and scan the tiny room, now bathed in wan morning light. A cedar wardrobe sat in one corner and a matching chest of drawers in another, next to the wing chair that Leo had occupied earlier. A simple room, sparsely furnished. Except for the artwork, I thought, focusing on an oil painting hanging on the wall opposite me. A little blonde girl sat on a swing with two young women, one blonde, the other a redhead, standing to either side behind her, as if both were pushing her. The minty green eyes caught my attention immediately. Sofie. Swinging my eyes to the other woman, I recognized the face of my mother. There was no doubt. “Sofie painted that?” I asked Max, my eyes locked on the portrait.
Yup. And that one.
His muzzle swung to the wall directly behind me and I followed it to another oil portrait of two women, standing side by side. I recognized the one on the left as me as I was now, an adult. It could be a mirror image, Sofie’s depiction was so accurate. The woman on the right was my mother. Seeing us side by side, I now saw my uncanny resemblance to her. It was shocking, how similar we looked, though I had never realized it before. “How many more of these paintings are there, Max?” I asked in awe, my focus sliding back and forth between the two faces.
He chuckled. Think of it as a parent putting up framed pictures of her child.
I guessed the answer was “a lot.” A shiver ran down my spine, the idea that I had unwittingly modeled as a vampire sorceress’s muse for the past eighteen years unsettling.
Her favorite place to watch over you was at the park.
A second shiver ran down my spine. Watch over me. That was Sofie. And Max. Both of them had shadowed me my entire life without my knowledge, watching a child as any parent with severe obsessive tendencies would. “Will she always be there?” I asked aloud.
Until you’re out of danger. And even then, the ties will be tight until . . . the end.
“The end,” I repeated softly, catching the certainty in Max’s voice. It wasn’t a question of if, but of when. I turned to regard Max’s golden eyes, too perceptive for any canine. There was sadness in them. “When is ‘the end’ for me, Max?”
Silence filled the room as Max shut his eyes. I will protect you from vampires and witches with every fiber of my body. But I can’t protect you from the curse of humans. The curse of expiration.
“You mean just plain getting old?” I said, smiling softly.
Max grunted in assent.
Join me or die. Their whispers suddenly swirled inside my head. I had forgotten until now. I swallowed, then heard myself say aloud, “Not if I become one of them.” A bizarre form of hope blossomed inside me. Why shouldn’t it? Why would I stay human? There was nothing left to cling to in my human life. I could be one of them and be safe, be with Caden and the others forever. If I joined them, Sofie and Max wouldn’t need to watch over me. I would become the predator. I wouldn’t need to be protected from anyone, including Caden.
I hadn’t given it a thought since the first time I’d questioned Sofie about it, weeks earlier. At the time it was hopeless, because the pendant’s magic wouldn’t allow my conversion. But maybe now . . .
As long as that black heart hangs around your neck, your soul is still entwined with Veronique’s, Max confirmed.
“Of course.” I touched the pendant again, running my thumb over its smooth surface. Somehow I had known that would be the answer. My dream had all but told me. This, the pendant that Sofie couldn’t figure out how to remove, the noose around my neck, ruling my actions, confining me, cursing me, was a prize to everyone else, something desirable, something to kill for. The urge to yank the stupid thing off suddenly overwhelmed me. I needed it off if I wanted any hope for a life—human or vampire.
Max must have read the despair in my face because he quickly added, If anyone can figure out how to get it off, Sofie can. He finished with a reassuring bump against my shoulder. It didn’t help.
The bed creaked in loud relief as Max slid off. You should eat. He strode over to the door and used his mouth to pull the lever handle down. The door swung open.
I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Nine-thirty. I hadn’t eaten in . . . forever, it seemed. Beside the clock lay my stack of four by six photos of my friends that Sofie had developed for me—the only thing I had to hold onto, now that my memories were infiltrated with demon-red eyes. I gingerly collected the pictures and slid out of bed, shuddering again as the cool air enveloped my body. I quickly wrapped myself in the plush white velour robe that hung on the bedpost at the bottom of the bed, and slid my feet into the matching slippers.
Max led me out into the hallway and past six closed bedroom doors on the way to the stairs. Not a cough or a whisper came from any of them. It was eerily silent for a cabin containing this many people. We stepped from the dimly lit staircase into the great room, now warmed by sunshine streaming in from various vast windows and a skylight tucked between the thick wood beams supporting a cathedral ceiling.
This way, Max called, heading past the rustic dining table toward the back of the room, where I could hear pots and pans clanking together. I rounded the corner and stepped into the delicious, earthy aroma of a rich soup stock.
“Good morning!” Leo sat at a small table with a cup of coffee in one hand and a wildlife magazine in the other. Relaxing in the wooden chair with his legs crossed, wearing a red and black plaid shirt, he looked completely at ease. A night’s sleep had faded the dark circles under his eyes. “Coffee?” he offered, sliding a full mug my way before I could answer.
I smiled and nodded, letting my eyes rove the kitchen. All the luxuries of Viggo and Mortimer’s urban kitchen were there—the cappuccino maker, the industrial gas stove and grill, a large refrigerator—but the string of garlic cloves hanging from a nail in the wall and the butcher block counter cluttered with bottles and jars of various spices and oils gave it a rustic air.
Magda and two other staffers hovered over various pots on the stove, the source of that delicious smell, no doubt. I found it remarkable that these women, magically wrenched from their accustomed environment yesterday and exiled into these mountains, continued with their daily duties as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. I wondered if they had any clue what was going on. Either way, they didn’t seem bothered. “We have twelve hungry mouths to feed up here,” Leo exclaimed as if reading my mind. “Go on, take a seat.” He pushed a chair out with one foot. “Did you sleep well?”
“For the most part. Thanks for . . . whatever you did.”
He winked at me, then returned his attention to his magazine. I glanced at the giant brown grizzly on the cover. The image stirred memories of Big Brown and a wave of sadness washed over me. Big Brown had been Bishop’s ferocious pet, created to serve as my protector. The evil Council leader, Mage, had killed him when she entrapped Caden. “I guess we don’t get regular mail deliveries here?” I said,
noting the issue’s publication date—1992. Not exactly current.
Leo chuckled. “No. I suppose we don’t.” He sipped his coffee, eyeing me over the rim of his mug.
I studied the cover some more, noting the subhead Locate the world’s remaining grizzly population. “So,” I asked, “are there any grizzlies in these mountains?”
Leo’s eyebrows arched. “Hoping for a clue as to where we are?”
“No . . . ” Yes.
“Hmm. You know there’s a map in here, indicating where the world’s grizzlies exist. They’re in only a few locations around the world. So if I told you there were grizzlies here, you could quickly deduce where we are, right?”
Don’t try to outsmart him. He’s a wily old man, Max warned from his spot behind me.
“Yes, I’ve noticed,” I grumbled, pouring a heaping teaspoon of sugar into my coffee.
Leo exploded in laughter, his eyes shifting between Max and me. He must have caught the gist of our secret conversation. After a moment I couldn’t help giggling as well, caught in Leo’s infectious spirit. He put the magazine down. “How do eggs and bacon sound?”
I nodded eagerly. “Yummy.”
As if waiting for the signal, Magda abandoned the wooden ladle in her pot and grabbed a frying pan from the hanging rack. In seconds, she had two eggs sizzling.
Hands hugging my coffee mug, I rose from my chair and wandered over to a giant window that displayed a mountain view both breathtaking and daunting. The valleys and sea of trees below us told me we were at a high altitude, yet distant mountains towered over us. Spying a frosted thermometer to one side of the window I leaned in, and found the mercury buried at the minus sixty degree Fahrenheit mark. I shivered reflexively.
“Sit!” Magda instructed in her brusque accent. A plate thumped down on the table behind me. “Your food is ready.”
