by Chloe Adler
“I’ll try, but no promises.” He squeezes some into his palm and then rubs it on my back.
I melt into my soft mattress topper and the air leaves my lungs. His big hands slide over my back, pressing against all my sore muscles.
“Wow, you’re really strong.” His voice is deeper now and a little hoarse. “Can I move the straps aside to reach your shoulders?”
“Sure.” I wriggle my arms to help and he moves the spaghetti straps over my shoulders and down my arms.
He starts on my shoulders, rubbing in small circles, expertly pressing on all the sore spots. Clutching my biceps, he squeezes them, clicking his tongue, which makes me giggle. Those rough hands return to the top of my shoulders, then lower, kneading the knots below my shoulder blades. My body melts further into my topper.
“You’re really good at this,” I murmur as actual drool escapes the corner of my mouth. It’s okay, he can’t see it. As the soothing, rhythmic strokes continue, I get sleepier and sleepier, letting my eyes drift shut.
Chapter Fifteen
Iphigenia
The sense of being watched, and not in a good way, forces my eyes open wide. Where am I? It’s my bedroom but all my furniture is gone, save my bed. Where has it all gone? There’s an eerie cast to everything, as though shadows are walking up the walls. Lurking.
Shivering, I reach for the light on my bedside table but it’s not there and neither is the table. There’s a scratching at my window and I hold my breath. Where did Rhys go? Is that him outside? Throwing my legs over the bed, I stand and putter to my curtains, pulling them aside.
And scream.
Pressed against every pane are hungry vampires with red eyes and long claws, scratching and scratching. Shrieking even louder, I run to my bedroom door and yank on the doorknob. But it doesn’t budge. I’m locked in? With monsters trying to reach me?
“Mother, help!” I shriek as loudly as I can. She’ll know what to do. I cower at my door, sinking down in front of it, trying to make myself smaller, and closing my eyes.
Suddenly my body is covered with hands and claws, scraping at my skin. I have no time to wonder how these monsters got inside before I sit straight up, screaming, my eyes flying open.
Disoriented, I blink in the dim light. I’m in my room still, but now everything is where it should be, where it’s supposed to be.
Everything except for the vampires, that is. They are here, too. In my bedroom. In the light, they’re even less human looking, pawing and scratching at my bedsheets. Shredding them. They’re drooling and hollow-eyed and so far from Burg or Carter or Rhys it’s like they’re not even the same species anymore. I count six and pinch myself over and over again to wake up from the nightmare within the nightmare. Except that I can feel the bite of each pinch stinging my flesh, and angry red welts appear. The vampires claw my bedsheets but they don’t touch me, hovering just out of reach. My amulet. I clutch it and scream for Mother.
The door handle to my room jiggles but doesn’t open.
“Iphigenia, let me in this instant!” Aurelia calls out from the other side. “What’s going on in there?”
“Vampires! Mother, please help. They’re trying to attack me!”
She pounds on the door, jiggling the handle, but it remains closed and I don’t dare get up.
Alistair’s deep voice reaches inside. “That’s not possible; you must be having a lucid dream.”
“This is no dream!” I yell, scrambling as far away from them as I can.
“Iphigenia,” a female vampire hisses. I don’t recognize her. The only one I recognize is my neighbor, the same one I saw get bitten. By Nolan.
“Who are you? What do you want?” I shriek.
“The eyes of another watch you. Through mine. He will make you his,” she whispers.
“Stop fighting,” says a male vampire.
“There’s no escape,” whispers a third.
“Come,” a woman motions to me with her arms, “join us.”
Outside my room, it sounds like Alistair is throwing his whole body against my bedroom door over and over again. I’m absolutely terrified but I can’t move and I know they can’t touch me.
“Get the hell out of my room!” I yell. “Leave me alone!”
They laugh, together, a shrill cackling that raises the hairs on the back of my neck.
Something whooshes outside my window. All of our heads turn in unison to look. It can’t be. I’ve never seen anything like it before. A very small dragon, about the size of a large hawk, hangs in the air, its wings flapping. I laugh. I must be dreaming after all.
“Why are you laughing!” demands Mother from outside my room.
“I am dreaming.”
“Are you mad?”
“Quite likely,” I admit as the miniature dragon flies through my window.
“No!” a deep male voice booms. The sound is elongated, hollow, distant.
The dragon opens its mouth and a stream of fire erupts, torching one of the vampires. En masse, they all scramble toward the open window, leaping out one after the other.
“Stop!” I scream, holding up my hands. I’m afraid this creature will burn me alive or set my room on fire and I’ll be trapped.
The lizard head turns toward me and blinks once, hovering in the air. Those eyes—vertical pupils, jagged and edged with black scales. Familiar, though I know no one with eyes like them. The thing lands on my bed and I’m scrambling back, feeling around for a weapon, when it makes a disarming whirring noise. And then it lays its head down. Cute. I reach one unsteady hand toward it, studying the thing. It looks even more like a very large lizard now that its wings are tucked against its back. The face is long and thin with little spikes running down the back of its head. Its skin and wings are tinged red. He opens his eyes and blinks once at me, and familiarity turns to recognition. It could be any one of them, since I only know two of Caspian’s shifts, but no. This is Thorn.
“Thorn?” I whisper and he makes that whirring, chirping noise again, rolling over onto his back. Smiling, I pet his leathery tummy. “Thank you,” I say. And then my bedroom door opens, and Mother stands there with narrowed eyes, her hands on her hips.
“What the hell is going on here?” But she doesn’t wait for a response before throwing a hand toward Thorn. “Rigescunt indutae.”
Thorn takes flight, even with the freeze spell she just cast, but his motions are jerky and slow. He makes it out the window, Mother chasing him.
She slams it closed behind her, drawing a pentacle with her finger and incanting more Latin. Her words will keep anyone from entering my room, good or bad. I’m terrified of the vampires. But what about my shifters and Rhys?
Whirling to face me, Mother moves her hands to her hips. “You are in trouble, young lady.”
“What? Why?” I scramble to my feet.
“Lying about vampires, burning your bed with that . . . that . . . miscreant.” She sniffs. “I’m sure there are other things I just haven’t caught you at yet,” she surveys my room, “from the look of things.”
“Mother, six vampires crawled through my room and tried to kill me. That shifter saved my life.”
“Liar!” she screams, pointing her finger at me. “I know you’re not always completely forthcoming, Iphigenia, but I never thought you were an outright liar. You sure had me fooled.”
“Look in your crystal ball then. That doesn’t lie.”
“Darling,” Alistair’s hand is on her shoulder, “whatever happened here, Iphi needs her rest now and so do we. Are you going to be all right?” he asks me.
I bite my lip, fighting back tears, and nod.
“Leave your door open,” Mother huffs, then leaves the room with her gentleman vampire trailing behind her.
“Call us if you need anything,” he says on his way out.
Yeah, right. So I can be accused of lying again? I pull my sheets up—the top half isn’t burned—and hold them to my face, stopping the flow of tears. I’m not even safe in my mot
her’s house? My house? The shifters came to my rescue again. And who were the vampires talking about? Nolan? Couldn’t be, he said he was being controlled by another, too. The one who spoke through him. There is only one being I’ve ever encountered in my life who could do that—the Scrim. But we banished him back to his dimension. My father did. He gave his freedom and maybe his life to save us, to save the world. But if there is one evil entity like the Scrim, why can’t there be more?
After Mother leaves, I change my sheets, hoping she’ll confirm what happened in her crystal ball. Of all the times for her not to cast a truth spell. Does she fear the truth so much?
I text Rhys to see if Thorn is all right but don’t hear back. He’s probably sleeping. It is three in the morning. It’s difficult for me to fall asleep but I finally do.
When I open my eyes again, light streams through my window and there’s a furious knock on my door. Before I can answer, the door slams open and Mother stands in the doorway, her reddish hair swirling around her like a mad witch, no less furious than last night.
“Why is your door closed? And why didn’t you come to breakfast?”
I look around my room, my heart pounding in my head. The windows are all closed, my sheer gauzy drapes drawn.
“I forgot. I got up to go to the bathroom and then I crashed again. I’m sorry, I overslept.”
Aurelia sniffs, narrows her eyes, and looks around my room as well. “Fine. Put on your robe and come out now. Breakfast is ready.”
“Yes, Mother.” I leap out of bed and run to my closet, grabbing my robe while she waits at the door, unmoving.
I slip into my house shoes and fly past her and into the dining room, forcing her to follow.
“Did you have a chance to check your crystal ball?” I ask.
“I did, but it stayed clear, so unless you pissed off another witch, you were indeed lying.” Her eyes narrow.
Taking my seat, I put my elbows on the table and drop my head into my hands. Suddenly it’s pounding, like silks are wrapped around my neck, cutting off the air to my brain. “Why would I make up something so elaborate?” I ask her through my fingers.
“Young lady,” she snaps as she slips into her seat at the head of the table, “manners.” Her eyes dart to my elbows and I remove them.
I help myself to a waffle. “There’s something seriously strange going on. Those vampires were out for blood.”
My mother exchanges a look with Alistair.
“We’re not saying you don’t believe what you saw last night,” he says kindly. “But maybe it was a nightmare, or maybe you had a fever. I told your mother that I think you should go see the doctor, make sure you’re fine. What if it was a hallucination?”
I slam my fists on the table, causing them both to jump.
“That was not a hallucination. Six vampires were trying to kill me and someone else was controlling them. What if the Scrim is back?”
A strangled sound escapes from the back of Mother’s throat. “Why would you suggest such a thing?” She looks at Alistair and then back at me. “Are you upset about our relationship?”
“What? No. Of course not.” I look between them. “This has nothing to do with the two of you. Or Dad.”
“Do not speak of your father.” Her eyes mist and she turns away.
“It’s okay, darling, I want Iphi to be comfortable enough in front of me to talk about anything.”
“Not him,” she hisses. “Never him.”
I clench my jaw and stuff a bite of waffle into my mouth, chewing noisily.
“Manners,” Aurelia barks. “We do not chew with our mouths open.”
Why chew at all? Her normally delicious breakfast suddenly tastes like cardboard in my mouth. I take a long sip of water to wash down the chalky substance, then stand up, and walk out of the dining room. Aurelia yells at me to come back and sit down but I don’t.
Chapter Sixteen
Iphigenia
Later that evening, I’m still reeling from the attack—both of them, really. My mother’s disbelief hurts far more than the failed vampire attack. My worry for Thorn doesn’t help. Rhys finally texted, saying there was an issue but that Thorn wasn’t hurt. Whatever that meant. What did that mean?
All this drama, worry, and pre-show adrenaline makes applying eyeliner to my already overly made-up face a dangerous endeavor. It’s a wonder I don’t poke out my own eye.
Rodrigo peeks into my dressing room. “You ready to go on in five?”
“Of course.” I haven’t even put my costume on yet.
“Wearing your bathrobe?”
“I’ll be ready,” I snap, and he straightens. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m on edge. No excuse. Can you buy me an extra two minutes?”
“No problem,” he calls, already walking away.
I don’t have time to beat myself up for snapping at Rodrigo, but it’s not like me. I pride myself on my unflappable, professional demeanor.
Is Rhys out there? And the rest of the men? When I asked him if they were coming to my show, he said they’d try. Not knowing is worse than if he’d just told me no.
They really have no reason to come back tonight. I perform the same act every night of the season, and they’ve already seen it. And yet . . . Focus. Concentrate. Aerial is not something you want to do when your mind is elsewhere.
“Tonight you’re in for a treat. Our amazing Iphigenia, the Flying Seraphim, will be performing a brand-new silks act, never before seen. Put your hands together and welcome our young phenom to the stage!” Alexis bleats into the microphone.
Applause sounds and I push through the center curtain to strike a pose in front of the fabric. Willing myself not to check the audience, visually or mentally, I wait for the music and begin. The climb up morphs into slow motion, hand over hand, no legs. One hand up and grab, then pull. Over and over, my legs stretched down and held together, my toes pointed. With my sparkling green-and-blue tights, the effect is supposed to be that of a mermaid. After a full day of hurt, worry, and confusion, going through my routine finally quiets the noise in my head. Everything falls away. The music, the crowd, my ego.
I’ve been practicing contortion for the past several years in order to get the most out of my static aerial poses, and it’s paid off. Arching backward, one hand on the silks, I’m able to touch my leg to the top of my head and hold my other arm out in a backward ouroboros. Faintly, I can hear the crowd roar, but it’s so easy to tune them all out.
After my final drop and double salto landing, I allow myself a peek at the house. But all I see are strangers. The front row is filled with people I don’t recognize, and beyond them, no one stands out in the crowd. Not my admirers, not my sisters, certainly not my mother. I toss my head, plaster a fake smile on my face, and take a bow.
Backstage, I run to my dressing room. My body feels like a loose balloon, devoid of all oxygen. My bones ache as if they’ve been pummeled by a hammer and my eyes sting as I fight back the tears.
Pull yourself together. You’ve still got the finale to perform. I’ve been performing every summer for the past three years. I can’t expect everyone I know to come to every show.
“You were amazing.”
I spin around. Caspian is here, taking up the entire doorway.
Caspian
A smile breaks across her face and grows impossibly larger when I push into her dressing room, followed quickly by Dominic and Rhys.
A low whistle escapes my lips, and the three of us line up in front of her.
Her head cranes, trying to look past us, and then she crosses her arms over her chest. “Where’s Thorn? And where were you three? Did you arrive late?”
We men exchange looks.
“We didn’t want to distract you, so we watched from the back,” Dominic says.
“Well, you did distract me,” she huffs and Rhys punches Dominic in the arm.
“Hey,” he cries out, “what was that for?”
“Distracting Iphigenia by trying not to distract her,�
� he says. He’s so serious I can’t help but laugh.
“I wanted to know you were here. I needed to know you were here. Is Thorn in the restroom?”
“We wouldn’t have missed it,” I say, trying to change the subject.
“Well, move to the front for the finale, please,” she sniffs.
“Done,” says Dominic.
“We don’t want to muss your outfit, but can we hug you for forgiveness?” Rhys’s dark eyes smolder when she bobs her head in assent.
Dammit, asleep on my laurels for one second, trying to figure out how to cover Thorn not being here without further distracting our woman, and he moves in. Smoother than a sunset painted across the sky, wowing her with his vibrant colors and bright smile.
Before I can jump in, Rhys has wrapped his arms around her and she leans into him, standing on her tiptoes to press her face into his neck and inhale. A large smile breaks over my face and my eyes moisten at her obvious happiness. So carefree and present. Locked in a moment with him. My contentment for her, for them both is a welcome relief from the worry that cropped up earlier. She is well taken care of, by us all.
Rhys gently lets her go, spinning her to the left where I catch and hold her tightly. What a fun game. I take my Iphi moment by circling my arms about her waist, touching her there with my hands, and lifting her up. She was already on her tiptoes but I raise her to my face and rub my nose against hers, letting that beatific smile bathe my soul in sunlight.
“So this is why you never wanted me to come watch you perform?” Aurelia’s shrill voice pierces our moment of bliss. I put Iphigenia down and a hush descends as if all the air has been sucked out of the too-small dressing room.
“Mother!”
I bow to her stiffly. “Mrs. Holt.”
Rhys flinches. “Ms. Holt.”
Iphigenia
“I’m so glad you’re h-here,” I stammer. She finally came to see me perform! My chest puffs with pride over my performance, then deflates. Oh, Goddess, what she just witnessed in my dressing room . . .
