by Kristi Cook
He raised two hands in surrender. “Hey, I got it. Just trying to help out here.”
I let out a frustrated breath. “I know you are. I’m sorry. I’m a little on edge right now.”
“Yeah, no kidding. Look, I told Dr. Andrulis I was walking you there. He thinks you’re sick or something. Let’s not give him any reason to think otherwise.”
“I know. You’re right. But let’s hurry, okay?” Because what if it was Aidan I was sensing and he was somehow back at Winterhaven? I fought the sudden urge to take off at a sprint, abandoning Tyler and Matthew and all of their careful caution.
I needed to get to the headmistress’s office. Now.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Tyler said. “I know exactly what you’re thinking, but we’re not doing it that way. We’re doing just what Dr. Byrne said. First we’re going to the dorm and getting your stake, and then we’re meeting him in the lounge. If the boyfriend’s really here at Winterhaven, there’ll be plenty of time for the happy reunion later. Okay?”
“Okay.” I nodded, swallowing hard as my mind latched on to the phrase “happy reunion.”
Was this it, finally? After two months of frustration, of worry and heartbreak? My stomach did a nervous little flip, my heart fluttering wildly in my chest.
“Isn’t that your stake hand?” Tyler asked, and I glanced down at my right hand, surprised to find that I had been standing there, flexing it.
As if I were gearing up for a fight.
I pushed aside the thought, refusing to examine it further. Instead, I reached for Tyler’s hand, clasping it tightly in mine. I was glad for the contact, relieved that the pressure on my fingers was dulling the strange sensations as I tugged him along beside me. “Just don’t let go of me, okay?”
“Whatever you say,” he quipped, grinning his cocky grin as he glanced down at our joined hands.
“I’m serious, Tyler. Forget what I said earlier—I really need you right now.”
He paused by the door that led out to the courtyard. “Hey, whatever happens in the headmistress’s office”—he took a deep breath, his steady gaze meeting mine—“I’m here for you. I know I act like an asshole sometimes, but friendship means a lot to me. Friends are all I’ve got, you know?”
“I know,” I whispered, tears stinging my eyes. Because I did—I was an orphan, after all, with no living blood relatives save my Gran. Rising up on tiptoe, I pressed a kiss to Tyler’s cheek. “I really do. Now, c’mon, let’s go.”
12 ~ Royal Blood
For several seconds, I paused outside the office’s medieval-looking door, gathering my courage to face whatever—and whomever—was on the other side of it.
Please, please let Aidan be there.
“You’ve got this,” Tyler said softly, laying a hand on my shoulder.
I nodded and then glanced over at Matthew, who sat on one of the benches against the wall. He was trying to look disinterested, but not quite pulling it off. Maybe I just knew him too well—I recognized that, despite his casual pose, the hard set of his jaw and the shadowed look in his eyes meant that he was worried. Really worried. I could sense the waves of anxiety rolling off him as I reached down and patted my stake, which was strapped safely against the inside of my left calf, tucked into the new sheath Matthew had made for me.
Silently, Matthew tipped his head toward the door.
Okay. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, wiping my damp palms on my jeans before rapping sharply on the door three times.
“Come in!” a feminine voice trilled out.
Mrs. Girard!
I was nearly hyperventilating when I pushed open the door and stepped inside, pulling up short at the sight of the person standing there beside Mrs. Girard. I froze, unable to move a single muscle. I blinked several times, sure that my eyes were playing tricks on me.
“Shut the door, chérie,” Mrs. Girard said, smiling broadly.
I did as she asked, and then launched myself across the room—right into Aidan’s arms.
Without a word, he gathered me into his embrace, his face buried in my hair. I could feel his entire body trembling as my tears dampened his shirt.
“It’s really you,” I managed to whisper, my windpipe so tight I could barely breathe.
His only response was a strangled, choking sound, and I realized then that he was reining in his own tears. My hair was damp with them now. He lowered his head, pressing his lips against my shoulder.
All I could hear was the sound of my own heart thumping noisily against his chest as we stood there silently, clutching at each other like we’d never let go. The room seemed to fall away, and I didn’t care who was there watching us.
And then Mrs. Girard cleared her throat, breaking the spell. “I know this has come as a bit of a shock, Miss McKenna, but if you’ll take a seat, I’ll explain it all to you.”
Aidan released me, his gaze never straying from mine as I blindly reached for the chair that Mrs. Girard indicated and lowered myself into it. It was only then that I got a good look at him, and my breath hitched.
He was pale. Thin. Gaunt. His eyes were faintly rimmed in red, and there were deep, purplish blue shadows beneath them, looking almost bruise-like against his fair skin. I’d never seen him look so frail, so haunted.
Just what had they done to him?
“Don’t worry, chérie. His physical form will heal soon enough, and he’ll be just as he was before.”
I wondered if I’d somehow let the barrier around my mind slip, or if she’d simply read my expression. Whichever the case, I made sure my mind was safely guarded now.
Mrs. Girard moved around her desk and sat in the enormous leather chair facing me. It was only then that I noticed the tall, dark-haired man standing beside the fireplace, one hand resting on the mantel. He was enormous, broad and muscular, with slicked-back hair that fell to his shoulders and piercing, pale blue eyes.
Mrs. Girard noticed that I was staring and turned to gesture at the man. “I’m sorry. Wherever are my manners? Miss McKenna, this is Luc Mihailov, one of my closest associates.”
So this was Luc—one of the two male Tribunal members who’d been turned by Vlad the Impaler. Aidan had called him a friend, but right now I was willing to bet that Luc was acting as Aidan’s guard. He seemed somehow . . . menacing. I couldn’t help but notice that my right hand tingled, itching for my stake, whenever I looked at him.
I considered breaching his mind, but decided against it. At least, not yet. I didn’t sense an immediate threat.
I turned my attention back to Mrs. Girard. “Okay, so what’s going on?” I asked her.
“It’s time for me to lay my cards on the table,” she said. “We need your help.”
“My help?” I chanced a glance at Aidan, who sat slumped in his chair, staring at the floor with empty eyes. Fear settled in the pit of my stomach.
What the hell is going on?
Mrs. Girard nodded. “Yours and Aidan’s. War has erupted, you see. Isa, the Eldest, has been destroyed, the Tribunal disbanded.”
“Okay, you’ve got to back up,” I said, shaking my head. “Who, exactly, is at war?”
She narrowed her eyes. “I thought Aidan had explained it to you. The factions.”
“Only a little bit. I mean, I know about the Propagators.” I shuddered at the memory of Julius and his little harem.
“Yes, and they make up the largest portion of the opposition, along with the Wampiri—they hunt from noon to midnight—and a few feral, ancient tribes. Let me put it this way—our kind can basically be divided into two groups. One believes that vampires are the higher race, superior beings to mere mortals. Ultimately, they’d like to grow their numbers to the point that they can subjugate humanity. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
A shiver raced down my spine. “Yeah, I think I get it.”
“The others,” she continued, “feel far more connected to our humanity. Our aim is to coexist with mortals, to remain cloaked by the screen of myth and leg
end. We fear that the discovery of our existence would lead to panic and panic to mass destruction of our kind. Up till now, the two sides have managed to agree to disagree. Some of the dissenters choose to live under Tribunal law and therefore are afforded our protection, and some choose not to.”
“What’s changed, then?”
“The Propagators’ numbers have swelled recently, and they’ve launched several mass attacks on the populace in Eastern Europe. We’ve contained the situation, but just barely. The Tribunal decided to send out an army, which basically amounts to a declaration of war.
“But then there was a coup from within. While the battle for the Eldest rages among the ancients, the Propagators are taking full advantage of our state of disarray. Worse, we’ve learned that a traitor—a member of the Tribunal—has given valuable information to our enemy. Information about our greatest weapon.” She paused, glancing over at Aidan, who sat now with his head cradled in his hands.
This had something to do with him, obviously. I couldn’t help but remember the time I had breached her mind, right here in her office. She’d thought of Aidan as her “crown jewel.”
“Go on,” I prodded.
“There’s a legend—a prophecy, if you will—that the Tribunal has carefully guarded for centuries. The legend speaks of a leader—the Dauphin, we call him in my native tongue—who is a male vampire of royal blood, turned before his eighteenth birthday.
“There are several elements to the legend, including the fact that the Dauphin’s maker cannot know of her victim’s royal blood at the time of his making. You see, so that no one sets out to intentionally fulfill the prophecy.”
The full effect of her words finally sank into my muddled brain. Aidan was the Dauphin. At least, she thought he was.
“Other parts of the legend specify the Dauphin’s exceptional abilities. One, he cannot be destroyed—not by a vampire. Two, he will possess the ability to command the Sâbbat and the Krsnik, giving him power over both breed of vampire slayer.”
I must have looked surprised by this, because she smiled, arching an auburn brow. “Yes, there’s another kind, chérie. Perhaps Luc can answer your questions about the Krsnik later. Luc is, after all, the most knowledgeable of our kind where slayer legend is concerned.”
I remembered the ancient, dusty book tucked away in my dorm room. It had been Luc who’d given the book to Aidan, who’d translated the page about Sâbbats and the Megvédio. Did they know the truth about Matthew? Or did I still have one secret left to keep?
“Anyway”—she waved one hand—“there’s much, much more, but I won’t bore you with the details. The most important thing is that the Dauphin’s power usurps all others, even that of the Eldest. He will take control of the Tribunal, and all will bow to him. He can bring peace, you see. Safety to the human race. With the Sâbbat and the Krsnik under his control, he can ensure that those who refuse to follow the law will be summarily destroyed.”
“And you think Aidan is the Dauphin,” I said, stating the obvious.
She nodded. “There’s no doubt in my mind that he is. It would appear that Blackwell figured it out before I did. He was a clever one, that Augustus Blackwell—clever and ambitious. I should have known that, with his vast knowledge of legend and lore, he might eventually stumble upon something, a hint of some sort.
“But it was Goran Petrović who ultimately betrayed us all, giving Blackwell the specific information he needed about the prophecy, information that no one save the Tribunal was privy to. The Propagators made him promises he couldn’t refuse—he would eventually rule all, they bargained, both vampire and subjugated mortal alike. All he had to do was destroy the Dauphin. Or have you destroy him, Miss McKenna, since a vampire cannot.”
I looked over at Aidan, waiting for him to speak, to say something about that awful day last spring. But he didn’t—he just sat there, as silent and still as a statue. “Bu-but Blackwell sent Jenna in to save us,” I stammered, completely unnerved by Aidan’s haggard, haunted expression.
Mrs. Girard shrugged. “That I cannot explain. A last-minute change of heart, perhaps? I suppose we’ll never know.”
I digested that in silence.
“So, you must see my dilemma. We need a leader. We need someone to restore the peace, to end the war and ensure the safety of both mortals and vampires alike. I couldn’t very well have Aidan cure himself, no matter how sympathetic I might be to that cause. I didn’t mean for the tampered serum to affect him the way it did—those attacks were an entirely unexpected consequence. But once they were discovered . . . well, I couldn’t tip my hand and show him preferential treatment. He had to be punished. The outbreak of war and ensuing chaos provided the necessary opportunity to release him, and so here we are.”
My heart was thudding in my chest now, anger racing through my veins. I still couldn’t believe she’d done that to Aidan—turned him into a killer. I struggled to rein it in, to keep my voice calm and controlled. “So . . . why do you need my help?”
“Simply to help me persuade Aidan to do what he was created to do—to assume the role of the Dauphin and take his rightful place by my side on the newly formed Tribunal.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. “And if I don’t?”
Her smile turned my blood to ice. “Well, then I suppose I’ll just have to make you destroy him, won’t I?”
13 ~ Dead Man Walking
Instinctively, I reached for my stake. I stopped myself just short of pulling it from its sheath.
“I assure you there’s no need for that, Miss McKenna,” Mrs. Girard said quickly, rising from her seat, both palms pressed against the desk. “We’re all friends here, on the side of right.”
Straightening, I glanced over at Luc, expecting him to look as if he were ready to pounce. Instead, his attention was focused on Aidan. For a moment, I studied Luc closely, prodding the invisible barrier that protected his mind. Immediately, I felt the wall crumble, the thoughts tumbling out.
He must agree. We need him too badly—he’s our only hope.
Other thoughts, mostly jumbled, took over my consciousness. I barely had time to make heads or tails of them, but the message was clear. I could sense Luc’s desperation, his panic. I had to press my fingers against my temples to break the connection, hoping that I looked as if I were massaging away a headache or something.
“I think you two need some time alone.” Mrs. Girard walked briskly around her desk, stopping at Aidan’s side. She laid a hand on his shoulder, her touch surprisingly gentle. “Is there somewhere you can go, mon chou? Somewhere you can talk without fear of interruption?”
He nodded, a muscle in his jaw flexing.
“But . . . but what about sixth period?” I stammered nonsensically.
Mrs. Girard returned to her desk and reached for the phone. “Fencing, correct?” When I nodded, she continued on. “I’ll call Coach Gibson and let him know that you’re excused. Luc, can you escort them?”
“Of course, madam,” he answered. His voice was deep, heavily accented.
He strode over to Aidan and looped an arm under his right shoulder, offering himself as a crutch as Aidan struggled awkwardly to his feet. If not for Luc, I’m pretty sure Aidan would have collapsed to the floor.
Oh my God. My stomach plummeted. Whatever they’d done to him, it’d been bad. Really, really bad.
I hurried to Aidan’s side, wrapping an arm around his waist. Together we moved toward the door, Luc and me supporting Aidan as he shuffled toward it.
“Where are we going?” Luc asked, and I looked to Aidan for the answer, realizing I had no idea.
My room, he answered inside my head.
“I’ll show you,” I said to Luc.
As soon as we stepped out into the hallway, Matthew’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with surprise. “What the hell?” he whispered harshly as we passed. “Is he okay?”
“I have no idea,” I answered without turning around. There was no way I could stop and explain what was going
on, not with Mrs. Girard there on the other side of the door. He would just have to trust that I was safe, that I could take care of myself for the time being.
We set off at a lumbering pace. Luckily, it was still sixth period, so the halls were empty. I was moving on autopilot, trying to wrap my brain around everything I’d just learned—and wondering what exactly I was up against in convincing Aidan to go along with Mrs. Girard’s plan.
“This way,” I said, tipping my head toward the stairwell on our right. “Down the stairs and to the right.”
In Aidan’s absence, I had memorized the route to his underground room. It had taken me several tries to find it without him. But still, I found some comfort in retracing my steps there and back. Now I felt only fear.
As if sensing it, Luc turned toward me, meeting my gaze over Aidan’s bowed head. “She’s not likely to force you to destroy him,” he said. “A bluff, I think. Despite what she says, I don’t think she could bear it. She’ll simply lock him back in the dungeon, hoping that he’ll eventually change his mind.”
I just nodded, swallowing hard. I hoped he was right, though it didn’t matter, not really. As far as I was concerned, neither was acceptable.
We walked on in silence. Another flight of stairs and two turns later, we finally reached the nondescript door, locked tight.
“Can you . . . ?” I tilted my head toward the door.
“Of course,” Luc said. There was an audible click, and the door swung open.
Moving in tandem, we led Aidan to the daybed against the wall and helped him to sit on the edge of the mattress.
“I’ll be just outside,” Luc said, hooking a thumb toward the hallway. “Take all the time you need.”
And then he was gone. Even though I knew it was pointless, I turned the lock anyway.
“Violet,” Aidan whispered, his voice a gravelly rasp. It was the first word he’d spoken aloud, I realized with a start.
“Oh my God, Aidan.” I rushed back to his side and knelt on the ground before him. “What did they do to you?” I gathered his cold hands in mine as I peered up at him, trying not to wince at the sight of his red-rimmed eyes, his hollow, gaunt cheeks. “Have they . . . did you feed before you came here?”
