Asylum

by K. A. Tucker

  Escaping from the Fifth Avenue palace had been easy, but not graceful. Since crashing through an army of witches to escape behind the wheel of a car was too risky, even in the Hum-V, we used the sewer system access from the garage, weaving through muck, rats, and other vileness for a mile or so to resurface in Central Park. From there it was a simple act of grand theft auto and tripling the speed limit to get us to Viggo’s airfield in record time.

  We likely could have run to the plane in the same amount of time, had it not been for Bishop. Mage struggled with the broken-hearted vampire every step of the way. All he wanted to do was turn around and dive back into that battleground to avenge Fiona’s death, a reckless move that would mean certain death for him. I even tried a few calming spells on him, but none seemed to work, his anguish overpowering all. I found myself wishing that Mage could compel him to follow peacefully. In the end, Mage kept Bishop alive with brute force, dragging him kicking and screaming through the tunnels, her tiny arm around his broad neck in a headlock. Their difference in size almost made it look comical. I was surprised she bothered, but I felt grateful that she did. Losing one of them would be hard enough for Evangeline. Losing two . . .

  Now we flew south toward the remote South American island where Evangeline waited, guarded by a group of demons created in one of my magical blunders. A part of me overflowed with joy that I would finally see my girl again. And when we did meet, it would be without the mask I had so stoically worn to hide my true feelings for her, to alienate myself from her. I would no longer need to lurk within the shadows to be near her. Life would be different now.

  I sighed. No, life was not yet different. I needed to be a long way off from joy right now. I had failed to break the deadly curse hanging over her. She was still hunted and now Viggo and Mortimer knew exactly where she hid. I silently admonished myself for not moving the tribe from their original location. It had seemed like too much of a hassle at the time, the island was so isolated, so perfect for concealing that sort of creature. Evangeline was still in great danger, until I figured out how to lift that blasted curse. Then Caden could transform her, something I was sure she wanted, and she would no longer be a fragile human.

  Standing at the front of the cabin, I swept my eyes over its occupants, assessing the atmosphere. It was one of complete and utter despair. We had all taken a turn in the jet’s shower, washing the sewers off our bodies. Caden and Mage had pilfered fresh sets of clothes for all of us from the other private planes at the airfield. The physical evidence of the attack was long gone. But all I had to do was glance at Bishop, who sat in a seat off to himself, his forehead pressed up against the window as he stared out at the night sky with empty gray eyes, to see that the witches’ attack had wounded us gravely. My heart ached for the young man. He had just watched his love of seven hundred years burn! The sickness now growing inside him was one to which I could relate. It was dangerous, for him and everyone around him. We’d have to watch him closely.

  “Miss Sofie?” The pretty young flight attendant, Jasmine, poked her head into the cabin, pulling me from my dark thoughts.

  I turned to smile at her. I had summoned her and the two pilots on our way to the airfield and then compelled them to fly without Viggo’s consent. The three of them were on call twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, with the expectation that they’d be ready to take off within an hour’s notice. It was an unreasonable demand, but they didn’t work much and they were paid handsomely for it, making them willing to cater to Viggo’s eccentricities, taking residences nearby and dropping everything to run at the ring of their phones. Of course, they had no idea what their employers were, other than assuming they were involved in seriously shady business. “Yes, Jasmine?”

  “You asked me to tell you when Mr. Viggo arrived at the airfield. The tower called. He just did.”

  How predictable. So Viggo and Mortimer had made it to the airfield to take the jet I had already commandeered. They’d be pissed, realizing I had duped them to get a head start to Evangeline. Not that they’d be surprised. I was actually shocked they’d waited in the Warehouse as long as they had. “And?”

  “And they tried to take another plane, but all of the cockpits had been vandalized.”

  My eyes shifted briefly to Mage, who offered a tiny smile. She and Caden must have busted up the electronics while looking for clothes, to buy us a bigger head start. Smart thinking. Now Viggo and Mortimer would have to find a plane as well as a pilot.

  “Thanks for the update, Jasmine.” I smiled warmly. As she was turning away, another thought struck me. “Oh, Jaz?”

  “Yes?”

  “Have you heard anything over the news about an explosion or terrorist attack in Manhattan . . . anything at all like that?”

  Jasmine’s perfectly-sculpted brown eyebrows furrowed as she shook her head. “No, Miss Sofie.”

  I smiled again. “Thanks.” That meant the witches were containing the attack, keeping it under wraps. For what reason, I didn’t know. But every day the vampires stayed out of the news kept us away from being exposed, and the fated world war from beginning.

  Jasmine pulled her head back into the cockpit, leaving behind a hint of floral-scented shampoo, and closed the door. I heard the lock click and chuckled. If we wanted in, we’d get in, but if a lock made them feel safe, have at it.

  “So what does that mean? Will they still come?” Amelie asked, looking up at me with wide emerald eyes from the same seat that Evangeline had occupied on her way to New York.

  “Oh, I’m sure they will. We just stalled them slightly. They’ll find a way to get there; we’ll just be there before them and, I hope, be gone by the time they arrive.” That remote island off the southern tip of South America where the tribe lived was the absolute last place on earth Viggo wanted to go. But if that was where Veronique’s pendant was, then as sure as the sun would rise in the morning, that’s where he would go. I just hoped it didn’t require a massacre to get there.

  “And what happens when we get there?” Caden asked, his arm wrapped protectively around his sister, worry marring his beautiful face. “Who is this ‘tribe’?”

  “Ah, yes. My creation.” I felt my lips curve up in a smile, though nothing about that tribe deserved a smile. I strolled over to take a seat—the same one I had occupied when flying with Evangeline—and asked, “Did Evangeline ever mention the spell I cast that inadvertently cursed her?”

  Amelie and Caden’s heads bobbed in assent. “She said something about some . . . fates?” Amelie offered.

  I nodded. “Yes, the Fates. They’re basically like the gods of the witches. I liken them to a group of overweight housewives sitting around a table, thinking up ways to twist hopes and dreams into some perversion of a solution,” I explained sardonically. Mage chuckled softly, amused by my interpretation. I turned to give her a flat stare. “But—oh, that’s right. I forgot, Mage. You know all about the Fates, don’t you! That slipped my mind. Much as it slipped yours.”

  Mage cocked her head, then dipped it slightly as if to acknowledge my jibe with a silent “nice one.”

  I turned back to Caden and Amelie. “Of course, I have no idea what the Fates would look like if they took on physical form. I don’t even know how I managed to call on them the first time. There’s no manual for getting ahold of them. It’s kind of like humans praying to their god. I just sort of stumbled upon them when I was desperate to turn for Nathan . . . ”

  I realized I was babbling and quickly regrouped my thoughts. “Anyway, forty years after I cast the first Causal Enchantment—the kind of spell the Fates grant—I began getting impatient. When I get impatient, I start doing . . . reckless things.” Nathan had always been quick to point that out. “I began testing the Fates, casting all kinds of Causal Enchantments, attacking the problem from different angles to see what they would throw back at me. One of these spells was an attempt to erase my original one altogether, as if it never happened—to change fate back. I knew it was a long shot, but
what did I have to lose? Well, sure enough, the Fates came back with an ‘idea,’ all right.” I gave them my best sarcastic eye roll. “They turned this remote tribe in the Amazon into the anti-magic of that wielded by vampires and witches.”

  “Interesting,” Mage murmured, her expression pensive. “That’s the second of these Causal Enchantments that didn’t exist in our Earth.” I didn’t miss the scowl on Caden’s face when Mage said “our Earth.” They still hadn’t come to terms with her manipulation of their memories. I couldn’t blame them.

  “Are you positive?”

  Mage nodded adamantly. “And why does the original vampire from your Earth not look identical to me?”

  “It doesn’t make sense . . . ” I agreed softly, speaking more to myself. Another piece to this Fates puzzle that didn’t make sense. I hated broken puzzles. “If our worlds are parallel, someone like me should have been in yours, casting the same Causal Enchantments, destroying the vampire venom.” Amelie and Caden nodded in silent agreement, their expressions reflecting their confusion. In my peripheral vision, I noticed that even Bishop had perked up.

  “It’s like you didn’t exist in our world,” Mage said. “Like you are unique to your Earth. Perhaps planted here to alter the course of things.”

  I mulled over her theory. “Planted by whom?”

  “The Fates?” Mage suggested. “I mean, how many parallel worlds do they reign over? Mine, yours, how many others? Maybe they get bored with watching the same thing happen over and over again, seeing the same faces . . . maybe they decided to throw a wrench into the works.”

  I had never thought of that. Was I a wrench for the Fates? Was my very existence, my constant drive to test the boundaries of magic, a by-product of these gods’ need to spice things up? Maybe the Fates lounged around in their sweats and rollers, watching, waiting to see what ideas their crazy jester would come up with next. The very idea twisted my stomach into knots and ran my blood icy cold. Was I their entertainment?

  Mage’s voice pulled me from my silent brooding. I looked up to see them all watching me. How long had I drifted off in thought? “So then, this tribe—what are they, exactly?” she asked.

  Right. The tribe. I pushed a stray lock of hair off my face. “Good question. I’m not quite sure.” I gave them the rundown—the toxic skin, the unsightly appearance, how their own magic counters witches’ magic within a ten-mile radius, the tiger deal I made with them to protect Evangeline. “They worship the god of fire. I don’t know . . . ” I rolled my eyes when Mage looked at me questioningly. “But what exactly their magic can do, I’m not sure. One day, if we survive this coming war, maybe I’ll experiment. That’s why I kept them alive and hidden all this time. For now, I’m happy to stay as far away from those wretched creatures as I can.”

  “Why tigers?” Amelie asked suddenly.

  I shrugged. “No reason that I can think of except companionship. They’re the only creature that isn’t affected by their touch. They have a slew of the animals in their village and I promised to bring them more as part of my deal to keep Evangeline safe, should she show up there. Whatever the reason, they’re great for negotiating.”

  “That’s just the kind of stupid, arbitrary stuff that the Fates come up with,” Mage added, her tone flip.

  “So this tribe is dangerous. We want to get in and out as quickly as possible,” Caden acknowledged. “What do we need to do?” “ I noticed the creased picture of Evangeline in his hands then, the one I had secretly passed him weeks ago. Many times, I had caught him off in a corner, gazing at her face. It was an endearing picture. But a picture just didn’t cut it next to the real thing . . . And that reminded me of something I needed to do before I felt completely safe with him around her.

  I stood and walked over to the bar fridge. Reaching in, I grabbed several bags of blood that I knew would be there—Viggo had stashed blood everywhere. “We find the tribe.” I began tossing bags out to the group. The one I threw in Bishop’s direction hit his knee and dropped to the floor; he made no move to grab it. “Hope they don’t kill us, and get the hell out of there with Evangeline.” I ended at Caden, who held his hands out in anticipation. “Not you.” He frowned, as did Amelie, her curls bobbing as she turned from Caden to me. “I need to know I can trust you.”

  “Haven’t the last twelve hours proven anything?” Caden said.

  “Yes, but I’m worried your emotions will get the better of you when you see Evangeline for the first time.” By emotions, I meant lust. Lust was as much a driver as fresh blood and Caden, being in his early twenties, was definitely no shy schoolboy. “I need to test you.”

  Caden arched an eyebrow, a worried question in his eyes.

  I walked over to the cockpit door and knocked. Jasmine’s head popped out almost immediately. “Would you mind coming out for a moment? Just for a sec.” I reached out to take her hand.

  She nodded and stepped into the cabin, scanning the others. I pushed the door closed behind her. “What lovely brown eyes you have,” I cooed, steering her attention back to me with my fingertip on her chin. She smiled shyly, no clue of my real intentions—that I was zoning in on her irises, pulling her eyes in to mine until our focus was locked. In seconds, she was staring vacantly back at me, compelled. “You are going to walk over to Caden and offer him your blood,” I said.

  “What?” Caden barked out behind me. “Are you nuts?”

  I ignored him. “Ready?”

  She nodded dumbly.

  Holding her hand, I turned to look at Caden. “I need to know that I can trust you.”

  His jade eyes shifted between Jasmine and me, full of doubt. “How is this going to prove anything, Sofie?”

  In answer, I plucked a few hundred helix links. With a quick disguising chant—the same kind that Ursula used to turn herself into a sweet old bird-feeding lady for Evangeline—I let my magic loose. It swirled around Jasmine’s body like a tornado, visible only to Mage and I. We all watched as Jasmine’s hair lightened and grew six inches longer, as her eyes lightened to milk-chocolate brown, as her skin paled.

  As she turned into Evangeline.

  I heard the sharp intakes of breath from the others. It was spine-chilling to see this mirage, even for me, and I was the one who had created it. “Now, if you would please—” I gestured toward Caden.

  With slow, catatonic steps, Jasmine walked over and sat down in the free chair beside him, opposite Amelie. Gathering her hair and pulling it back, she leaned away from Caden and arched her back to expose her long, slender neck. “Please. Go ahead,” she offered, her voice identical to Evangeline’s.

  I swallowed the anxiety in my throat and watched Caden blink several times, awed by the illusion. Please, control yourself. If he didn’t defy the urge that was now electrifying his entire body, there was no way I was bringing him with me to the tribe.

  Caden’s jaw tightened. “No,” he growled through clenched teeth.

  I allowed myself a small smile. He had passed the first step. But this wasn’t the real test. Sailing over to the illusion’s side with just a thought, I yanked a sharp piece of metal from the underside of her chair. Grabbing her wrist, I slashed the metal across it, opening up a wide gash.

  All four vampires hissed. That’s fine. This is as hard as it will get for Caden around Evangeline. If he began feeding on her, he wouldn’t stop until she was dead; I could almost guarantee that. So he needed to fight it.

  Jasmine held her wrist up to Caden’s mouth. “Go on,” she offered sweetly.

  Caden gritted his teeth tighter. Sickness stirred in my stomach. I knew this was torture. If this were a human version of Nathan sitting in front of me, offering me his wrist, I didn’t know that I could refuse. And that’s why I needed to be sure.

  Icy blue-green eyes turned to glare at me. He was fighting the transformation, his whites now tinged with red, his pupils dilated, tiny veins beginning to grow and throb. “This is ridiculous. Get her away before I kill her,” he whispered, his voice ago
nized now.

  My answer came fast and hard. “If you want to see Evangeline again—ever—then you will control yourself. I will sacrifice a thousand Jasmines before I let anything happen to my girl.”

  The warning seemed to spark a new level of control in Caden. When he turned back to look at the illusion, it wasn’t with hunger in his eyes. He searched her features, all but ignoring the bleeding wrist under his nose. After a moment, he lifted his hand to run his finger along her chin, down her neck. “She looks so much like her,” he murmured.

  Please, control yourself. Please. A metal creak echoed through the cabin. Glancing down, I realized that my fingernails had punctured the ivory leather upholstery and warped the metal frame of the seat. Taking a deep, calming breath, I released my grip and turned back to Caden.

  We remained like that for a long time—Caden and Amelie staring at a bleeding replica of Evangeline, Mage watching with interest. Bishop had turned to stare out the window again, back in his own private hell.

  Finally, when the pool of blood on the floor by her seat began to worry me, I reached out to her. “Thank you, Jasmine,” I called, lifting the illusion and the compulsion. The fog in Jasmine’s eyes lifted, and they skittered around the cabin in confusion. “You poor thing! That’s a nasty cut on your wrist.” I took her by the hand and helped her up. “You should get that looked at when we land.”

  As if my words had permitted her to feel pain, she flinched. She held up her wrist and stared at it with wide, shocked eyes. “How . . . how’d I do that?”

  “Glass.” The lie rolled easily off my tongue. Lying had become second-nature to me many years ago.

  “Glass?” she repeated, scanning the floor around her for the evidence.

  Mage appeared beside me, holding up a broken shard of a wine glass from who knows where. “Yes, see?”

  Jasmine stared blankly back at her. I felt a twinge of guilt for putting her through this.

  “Here, this should help.” Mage swiftly went to work winding gauze around her wrist—plucked from the never-before-used emergency kit under one of the seats. She handed the woman an ice pack from the freezer. “Press this up against it,” she instructed, offering her a warm smile. “It should help stop the bleeding.”