Asylum

by K. A. Tucker

  Max had sensed it all along. He had sensed something “off” about her, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. And I had chastised him for being unkind.

  “And thank God this young little thing decided to come into that garden when she did!” Ursula gestured to her body. “I may have had to do housework here if I ended up in one of those maids’ bodies.”

  I gasped at that revelation, remembering when Valentina had stumbled, that first day in the atrium. That hadn’t been an innocent stumble; that was Ursula infesting her body! Ursula had been with us from the very beginning.

  “Who’s Ursula?” Julian whispered, his tone somber; he realized we were in real danger.

  “A bad person,” I whispered back, none too quietly.

  Another throaty laugh. “I’m not so bad, once you get to know me. Sofie has filled your head with lies. That’s what she does.”

  Run, Evangeline, Max warned again.

  I locked eyes with my canine protector. Do something! I silently pleaded.

  “He can’t help you,” Ursula said. “None of them can move. I’ve made sure of that.”

  “What do you want?”

  Ursula chuckled. “Many things. For one, I want out of this godforsaken hellhole, and this bastard won’t give me any clues as to how and when I can do that.” She kicked him again, earning a groan.

  “Please stop doing that,” I pleaded, tears welling up in my eyes.

  She continued on as if I hadn’t spoken. “And then I want to see the pain and suffering in Sofie’s ugly green eyes when she watches me kill you.”

  My breath caught in my lungs. I barely felt Julian’s hand settle on my shoulder.

  Evangeline, run—both of you. Get as far away as quickly as possible. She’ll need to break her spell to stop you and then we’ll have her. Run.

  “Get behind me.” Julian’s voice was barely audible.

  All we had to do was run and this would all be over. I shifted my weight.

  “Stop!” The shrill scream froze me in my tracks. “Try to leave here, and this place goes up in flames. Everyone dies. Not as poetic as my original plan, but . . . ” her lips curled into a bitter smile, “Sofie will suffer, all the same.”

  Everyone would die because of me. I couldn’t have that.

  I gave Max my best “what now?” look, wishing I could communicate telepathically to him.

  I guess she’s smarter than I gave her credit for. An exaggerated sigh followed. There’s one other way . . . Throw something at her.

  What? My confusion must have played across my face, because he continued.

  Injure her, and whatever spell she cast will break. Witches can’t hold their spells when they’re attacked. I’ll reach her before she can recast. I hesitated. Look at Leo! He’s too hurt to use his magic to protect himself! Hurry!

  My eyes darted to my gravely injured guardian. His eyes were now closed. Was he dead? Desperation washed over me. I scanned the area nearby for objects, and my eyes settled on a jagged antler by my feet. If I could impale her with the sharp end . . . Taking a deep breath and summoning every last ounce of courage, I psyched myself for the drop and the precise throw I’d need to execute, one I doubted I could do with accuracy. I tensed, preparing for the dive—

  And went sailing away from my target to land several feet off to the side, broken glass crunching under my weight. I was now level with Leo, lying only ten feet away from me. I glanced back to see Julian charging toward Ursula, a jagged piece of the chandelier held out in front of him.

  Her eyes widened in surprise, then immediately narrowed. With a quick glance down at the unconscious Leo, she decided something. Her hand lifted toward Julian, her lips moving.

  Oh, shit! Max moaned. Tell him to throw it. Now!

  “Throw it!” I shrieked, echoing Max’s command. From the corner of my eye, I saw Leo’s lids flash open, his eyes now bright, alert. His lips were moving quickly but I couldn’t hear him over the sound of rushing blood in my ears.

  Julian roared as he swung his arm back to launch the antlers at her—just as a purple light shot out from Ursula’s outstretched hand, heading straight for his chest.

  I stopped breathing altogether and squeezed my eyes closed, waiting. Expecting the shriek of pain, the thump of a body hitting the floor.

  Instead, I heard a drumbeat.

  7. And So It Begins

  “Do you feel that?” Mage hissed as the six of us made record time back to our Fifth Avenue base, distancing ourselves from the ring of suspicious ashes and incoherent babbling of rave attendees at the underground club. It would certainly make the news later today.

  I did feel it; it was impossible to miss. An awesome amount of magic was being channeled somewhere nearby, more than anything one witch could summon. It only strengthened my concern that this went beyond Ursula’s meddling. “I don’t know what they’re planning, but we need to get inside now, and scaling the wall with each of you will take too much time.” Everyone nodded their agreement. With that, we headed straight for the main door.

  Getting back into Viggo and Mortimer’s fortress was easy. I punched in the code—Evangeline’s birthday in two different formats—and ran in, Mage’s limp body draped over my shoulder. I didn’t give a second’s consideration to leaving her within the Merth this time. We had bigger issues than a vampire with magical abilities.

  Mage was alert and dropped to her feet as soon as I stepped into the atrium. We found Viggo and Mortimer in their customary warding positions on either side of Veronique, but their normally controlled expressions gave way to shock as they watched us enter from the outside. It was such a rare sight. “What the . . . .” Mortimer began.

  “Hold on a sec,” I called, already on my way out.

  In seconds I had Evangeline’s friends safely inside. It took only that long for Viggo and Mortimer’s shock to disappear. Now they wore glares that could have incinerated me, if they had any sorcerer magic in them.

  “In private?” Mage suggested before Mortimer could explode. She accentuated the suggestion with a pointed stare at the horde of Ratheus vampires surrounding us.

  The anger slid from Viggo’s face immediately, replaced by a fake grin and a polite gesture toward the library door. “Certainly. Right this way . . . ”

  Mortimer uttered not a single word. He spun on his heels, jaw visibly clenched, and grabbed the elbow of a sickly-looking Ileana as he passed her. The six of us trailed behind them into the library, Mage shutting the French doors behind us.

  Viggo turned to the witch. “A sound barrier, if you would be so kind, Illie?”

  I caught the fleeting wince, likely due to Viggo’s nickname, but she nodded and quietly went about casting the common spell. I watched Mage’s eyes follow the purple-hued bubble as it expanded to reach the outer walls of the room. I can’t wait to sit down and learn about that vampire’s uncanny sense for magic! It was beyond annoying.

  Only after Ileana nodded to Viggo did Mortimer react. I knew it was coming; I expected it—yet the vicious blow that instantly shattered my jaw caught me off guard all the same. The crushing pain dropped me to one knee where I remained, waiting for my bones to mend themselves. Five seconds later I was on my feet again, throwing a catty response at him. “Haven’t you heard it’s not nice to hit ladies?” I couldn’t help it, though I knew I was only throwing fuel on already roaring flames.

  “Lady,” Mortimer grated through clenched teeth, “you belong in Hell.”

  “I have to agree with you on that one,” Viggo murmured, his back to us as he gazed at Veronique’s painting above the mantel. He turned, the fireplace poker gripped casually in his hand. He lifted it up to show a glowing point, as if it had sat within the flames.

  “What are you going to do, Viggo? Brand me?” I joked, trying to defuse whatever panicked reaction he was hoping to get from me.

  “What would be the point of that? You heal too fast and you’re tough as nails, you old hag,” he retorted with a condescending smile. Instea
d he grabbed Ileana by the back of the neck and pulled her close. Without pause, he pressed the poker to her cheek. The smell of burning flesh curled everyone’s nostrils up in disgust. The young witchling’s eyes began to tear up and she let out a howl of pain. “Quiet, now! You are here to be our eyes and ears, Illie. Your one task is to watch that devil woman over there. And yet somehow she managed to escape, unnoticed. And with five vampires! What do you have to say for yourself?”

  Tears streamed down her cheek as she tried to muffle her screams. Finally her knees buckled from the pain. Viggo kept her on her feet.

  “It wasn’t her fault,” I said. “You had her busy trying to break spells she can’t break.”

  A wicked smile touched Viggo’s lips. “You’re right, Sofie. It was your fault. Much like every problem around here is. But—” With a flick of his wrist, Viggo forced Ileana’s face to turn. He shifted the poker to her other cheek. “Since you obviously take some sort of masochistic pleasure in being beaten, I thought punishing someone else would be more effective.”

  “Please!” Ileana managed to sputter between sobs.

  I glanced over at Mortimer to see him staring at Veronique’s face, as if he couldn’t hear Ileana’s pained cries—or he was blocking them out. He was good at that. I was not. I so desperately wanted to level Viggo with my magic, but now was not the time to start a physical battle with him.

  “When you’re finished your pathetic display of dominance, we’d like to discuss the impending war outside,” Mage said, her normally serene voice carrying a cutting edge. Her words made Viggo release his grip on Ileana’s chin. She tumbled to the hardwood floor, her hair falling forward to hide the burned flesh marring both her cheeks.

  “What are you talking about?” Mortimer asked, his tone doubtful. “My spies have said nothing about any signs of an army.”

  “Your spies are probably the Sentinel, working undercover to feed you lies,” Mage spat.

  Mortimer snorted. “Do you think I’m stupid? I checked their hands. No tattoos.”

  She cackled. “Did you check their entire bodies?”

  “No, why would I?” Mortimer’s face twisted with doubt. “They tattoo their hands. That’s what they do. That’s what they’ve always done.”

  Mage offered him a condescending smirk. “Near the end, before the war on Ratheus, we discovered they began marking their kind elsewhere on their bodies, so they could act as double agents with the vampires.”

  I turned to stare at her. You neglected to tell me that, Mage. That meant those eight suicidal zombies in the club could in fact have been the Sentinel.

  She continued without batting an eye at me. “The witches would break the vampire compulsion spells and cast their own to protect the spies, so they couldn’t give anything up if caught and interrogated.”

  “Well, that’s your world, not ours.”

  “Are you so sure?” Mage taunted, smug in knowing what neither of them knew; what none of Evangeline’s friends, standing quietly behind me, knew.

  “What does she mean?” Mortimer asked slowly. “Sofie?”

  I shrugged. Let them chew on that.

  “Sofie?” Amelie’s raspy voice called. I turned to see four sets of confused, scared eyes staring back at me. “What does she mean?”

  I sighed, not so content with leaving them hanging. I looked to Mage. With a nod, Mage explained the seer and how she’d single-handedly retrained every vampire remaining into believing that the world they lived in was called Ratheus and not Earth. Six sets of wide, disbelieving eyes bored into Mage by the time she was finished. I didn’t know how they would react.

  Mage did, though, so she was prepared when Viggo attacked. In a split second, the two of them squared off against each other, Mage’s hand firmly on the poker that Viggo had intended to drive directly through her skull. She laughed. “Don’t worry, your suspicion was enough to protect you from being compelled—I’ve already tried.” Viggo sneered. “Believe me, I can’t!” Mage exclaimed in mock innocence. “If I could, you’d be lying in the Merth spell next to Rachel by now. I’m curious, though . . . do I look nothing like the original vampire from this Earth?”

  Viggo’s mouth twisted as he decided what to say. “No, I can’t say you do.”

  So he knew the original, after all . . .

  She released her grip on the poker and stepped away, unworried that Viggo might take another swing. “I don’t think any vampire has ever disgusted me as much as you have. Bravo. Fine effort.” Keeping her black eyes locked on Viggo, she said over her shoulder to me, “Explain to me again why this one needs to remain. Because unless there is a good reason, I’d very much like to be done with his melodrama.”

  Mortimer quietly observed the scene, clearly as unaware of Mage’s abilities as I was, and likely wondering the same thing I had—had Mage influenced his thoughts?

  Amelie and the others were unfazed by the power struggle, still in shock over Mage’s confession. “It can’t be! Everything I remember . . . ” Fiona murmured.

  “Is what I planted in each and every one of your heads,” Mage answered softly. “I’ve met you all before. You just don’t remember.”

  “So . . . we’re going to end up back in the same kind of world?” Bishop asked, his voice full of grief.

  “Not yet,” I said, mustering as much confidence as I could and turning to regard Caden, who had his eyes trained on the floor.

  “We wouldn’t have come, had we known,” he whispered distantly.

  I reached out to rest a gentle hand on his forearm. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that we need to get out of here. Now,” I stated.

  “As soon as we get that damn pendant, we can run as far away as possible!” Mortimer boomed.

  “Veronique will be fine. No one is getting to her,” I assured him calmly, letting go of Caden.

  “She can’t be moved?” Mage whispered.

  I shook my head. “No. That spell is bound to its location.” I turned to Viggo. “As much as I’d love to leave you two here to rot, there is a war brewing outside.” I gave them the rundown of what had happened, beginning with the mutants and going all the way to the force outside. “We need to regroup somewhere else until we can get a handle on what we’re up against.”

  “All of us?” Amelie asked. “Even the others out there?”

  “No.” Mage’s answer came quickly and firmly. “I can only compel them against killing humans for so long, and they don’t have the resolution you four do.”

  “So . . . ” Amelie prompted. Everyone looked at Mage.

  “So, we leave them here.”

  To starve. They wouldn’t die; they’d slowly wither to stationary lumps of flesh, too weak to lift their heads.

  The room went silent as we each thought through the plan. Was it a good plan? I had no idea. At this point, running was the only option. “Okay, let’s—” I began, but Leo’s voice cut into my thoughts. Valentina is Ursula. She’s with the tribe now. The connection died immediately, as if someone had taken a knife to it. “No!” I exclaimed before I could stop myself, at the same time that Ileana groaned. Had she heard it?

  Seven vampires were instantly on edge. “What is it?” Mortimer hissed.

  “Nothing,” I answered before clamping my mouth shut, my eyes glued to the crippled witch on the floor, looking for signs that she’d received the message about Evangeline’s new location. A location I had chosen only as a last resort and never in a thousand years thought Leo would need to use.

  Unfortunately Viggo noticed my sudden interest in the witch who had the uncanny ability to trace communications. “Tell us what you know!” he demanded. When she didn’t answer immediately, he grabbed her by her upper arm and, wrenching her up to her knees, he drove the poker through her right shoulder, just under her collarbone. It must have pierced a major artery, because a steady stream of blood shot out, eliciting hisses from those behind me.

  I barely noticed, though, more concerned about what might escape her lip
s. Hairs lifted on my neck as I watched her open her mouth . . . but only a strangled croak came out. In response, Viggo roughly twisted the poker around. I winced, knowing from experience what pain that inflicted. Teeth bared and tears streaming down her cheeks, Ileana worked her mouth as if she were trying to get words out—words I couldn’t allow. I dove for her, fully intent on silencing her permanently. Mortimer intercepted me, blocking my path long enough for her shrill scream.

  “She’s with the tribe!”

  The sound of the poker and Ileana’s battered body hitting the floor resonated through the suddenly silent room. Viggo looked at me, his blue eyes perplexed. “Sofie?” Normally I would enjoy that look, but not this time. “What does she mean by the tribe? Not the tribe; you destroyed them years ago.”

  Mortimer towered over me, glowering. “That’s what she told us. We took her word for it.”

  “Who is the tribe?” Caden whispered.

  “Shhh,” I warned, eyes still on my two deadly adversaries, wondering how long it would take them to figure it out. Not long, apparently.

  “Have you gone absolutely insane?” Mortimer exploded.

  I stalled. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “There’s only one ‘tribe’ that bastard butler could be referring to. We should have known you didn’t kill them!” Viggo hissed.

  “Don’t you realize they’re just as likely to kill her as they are any of us, you fool?” Mortimer added.

  “What?” All four of Evangeline’s friends yelled in unison, Mortimer’s words panicking them.

  But I ignored them, still focused on the two vampires in front of me who now knew where Evangeline was. “Desperate measures,” I answered coolly.

  Viggo’s lips curled back in a hideous smile. I hated that smile. “Well, at least we know she’s reachable.”

  “Not while you’re in here,” I reminded him.

  The smiled only grew larger. “If not by us, then by someone else,” he taunted, displaying his cell phone.