by Lexi C. Foss
Her eyes widened. Could Hydraian stem from Hydria?
She shook her head. This was all too much. To even believe this hysteria would qualify her for a mental institution.
Yet… Kiel’s statements about the CRF and her feelings were spot on, though his casual comment about watching her freaked her out. And he knew things about Stas…
Lizzie gave in to the pull to survey the club, as he recommended, and turned to observe the booths below. Nothing too crazy, just a couple making out.
She squinted as the lights flashed overhead, illuminating their positions.
Is that…?
She covered her mouth with her hand.
A brown head.
There was a man, under the table, between the woman’s bare legs with his mouth on her inner thigh. Lizzie expected him to move higher, but he didn’t.
The female’s body seemed frozen in time as the male beside her shifted his mouth to her neck to lick the trail of blood leaking from her wound.
Lizzie stood, her hands going to the glass, to scream for help when she realized the booth beside them held a similar picture. As did the one beyond it.
“Oh God…” Cam and Kristin… She needed to find them, to warn them.
“Your friends will be fine,” Kiel murmured. “Zach and Lars may use them for a snack, but I’ve instructed them to see the girls home safely afterward.”
“Why?” Why would he do that?
“Consider it my show of good faith,” he replied. “Besides, most mortals leave this place with memories of a euphoric evening and nothing more. It’s our way of maintaining a healthy food supply, though there are those who would prefer blood farms.”
Lizzie turned to see him shrug.
“I see both sides of the argument, but we are digressing again. Shall we talk about Tom now? The friend you buried, who is indeed very much alive?”
Her legs threatened to buckle beneath her, forcing her to return to her seat across from him. Ten minutes ago, she’d called him cruel for even suggesting it. Now, she felt a beacon of hope followed by severe sadness.
Would Tom truly let her mourn his loss while living a life without her?
They were friends.
She loved him.
Why would he do that to her?
“To clarify, Hydraians are the result of an Ichorian father fornicating with a human female. Your friend Tom is the result of his Ichorian father, Jonathan Fitzgerald, coupling with a human woman named Anna.”
Kiel draped his arm over the booth, his long fingers drumming a tune she couldn’t hear, not with all the blood pumping through her ears.
Tom isn’t human? John is an Ichorian?
This… No.
It’s ridiculous and not real.
An elaborate story. A ruse.
“Tom staged a scene with several Hydraians and a few Ichorians out in the middle of the woods at his mother’s old cabin. His father believes one of the Sentinels shot Tom with an incendiary bullet—thus killing him—but it was all an illusion orchestrated by Issac Wakefield.”
“Issac?” she repeated. He’s part of this too?
“He’s an Ichorian—I’ll prove that in about a minute—and he helped save your friend’s life. I imagine it was a gift for Astasiya, as he is quite fond of the talented woman, but there you have it. Tom is alive, residing in Hydria, and yes, Stas knows as well. Now that brings us full circle, yes? And why they’ve kept all this from you? I have theories on that, but unfortunately, we are out of time.”
“We are?”
“Indeed.” He cocked his head toward the bar. “Your rescue is here roughly ten minutes earlier than I anticipated. I’m impressed.”
Lizzie followed his gaze to where Issac and two other suit-clad men were walking purposely up the stairs to the VIP section. Issac flashed the bartender a grin that spoke of familiarity and also nodded at several others, who all returned the gesture in kind.
Proof, Kiel had said, that Issac was an Ichorian.
He knew all the members of the club.
She could chalk it up to his billionaire status and say he knew all these people through high society, except Lizzie didn’t recognize any of them, and she was very familiar with the elite crowd in New York City.
The Arcadia boasted an opulent air and old wealth, the kind she was raised to recognize. Yet she only knew the man approaching their enclosure.
“Lizzie, if you value your life at all, you’ll remain calm throughout this interaction. I may have no intention of harming you, but I cannot speak for the others here. If you cause a scene, they will silence you, and not in a polite manner.”
Ice slithered through her veins, freezing her in place as the glass slid upward to its home in the ceiling.
Even if she wanted to scream, she couldn’t.
Her airways burned from a lack of oxygen.
Part of her thought this might be a very bad dream, but Ezekiel had remained so calm and collected throughout. The bearer of information, which was expressed in a concise, truthful way, meant to do what? Terrify her? Placate her? Teach her? She didn’t know.
As their enclosure disappeared, she shivered not because of the air but because of the loss of protection.
Kiel had told her all of this in a soundproof chamber—he meant to keep her safe in the event that she reacted.
But why?
He clearly didn’t care about her.
What was his goal?
To irritate Jayson.
Because Jayson didn’t want her to know the truth. No one did, including Issac and Stas.
And Tom.
Her heart ached at the betrayal.
Everyone knew about this except her.
“Evening, Issac,” Kiel greeted. “Care to join us for a drink?”
Issac slid into the booth next to Lizzie, his thigh brushing her frozen one. He steepled his fingers on the table, his focus on Kiel.
“I mean no disrespect, Ezekiel, but if you do not release Elizabeth to me right now, I will be forced to react in her best interest.”
The quiet lethality lurking beneath his words sent a chill down her spine.
He sounded like a predator.
A villain.
A vampire.
She bit her lip to keep from reacting, but the terror rattling around in her chest begged to be let out.
Because her roommate and best friend was dating a monster, one who seemed completely at ease in this club, where they served blood in mugs and feasted on arteries downstairs.
How could Stas keep this from her?
“Hmm, I believe her best interest requires you not to react at all,” Kiel replied as he finished his drink. He set it aside with a smile. “Well, if you don’t fancy a drink, then how about a walk?” He glanced at the two men standing guard beside the booth before meeting Issac’s gaze again. “Just the three of us ought to do.” He smiled at Lizzie. “I imagine you are craving some fresh air right about now, sweetheart. Am I right?”
Her lips formed a response that her voice failed to deliver. If he meant to guide her outside, she wouldn’t argue. Anything to leave this horrible place.
“I believe that’s her version of acquiescence,” Kiel said. “Shall we?”
Issac stood with a nod at his two friends and held out his hand for Lizzie.
Two days ago, she would have accepted.
Maybe even an hour ago.
But now?
No.
Maybe Kiel was a lunatic with a wild imagination.
Maybe she would wake up in five minutes.
Maybe unicorns were real.
She had no idea, but she did know one thing: she didn’t trust Issac Wakefield. Or Tom Fitzgerald. Or Jayson Masters. Or Stas Davenport.
I truly am alone.
“What have you done?” Issac demanded, his words directed at Kiel.
“We may have enjoyed story time while you were on your way, but let’s continue the discussion outside. I would hate to draw attention from anyone of impor
t.”
Issac closed his hand into a fist and dropped it to his side. “Indeed,” he growled as he stepped away to give Lizzie a wide berth to exit the booth.
She did so carefully, her legs unsteady beneath her. All those years of dancing failed her tonight. She hobbled about like an old woman with frail limbs caused by years of misuse.
Kiel stood directly beside her, his warmth a comfort in the otherwise freezing club.
What did that say about her sanity?
She trusted the one man she shouldn’t, but he’d told her the truth.
He also mentioned being an assassin.
Jesus… She would never move on from this moment.
If it was all true, she’d… How would she…?
Lizzie shuddered.
Where did she go from here?
Kiel had only just begun to talk about the CRF, but even his brief words confirmed her worst fears. Evil lurked there. He implied she had reason to fear them, but didn’t elaborate.
No time now.
He led the way down the stairs as she moved on zombie-like feet behind him with Issac at her back.
The bodies gyrating on the dance floor passed in a blur, as did the bar.
She didn’t bother looking for Cam and Kristin.
What could she do? Scream about vampires? They would laugh, and she would probably die.
Kiel said they would be safe. She wanted to believe him; he hadn’t lied to her yet. Even in the coffeehouse, he’d told the truth.
Babylon.
He meant the real city. The one that existed thousands of years ago.
How was this even believable?
Jayson is the same age, maybe even older…
Her brain couldn’t wrap around that logic. It ceased to comprehend. She’d made out with… with… a walking mummy.
Or a god, she thought. Not that it made her feel any better.
The tear ducts behind her eyes attempted to function and failed. Shock rendered her useless.
“Ah, it is a lovely evening for a stroll,” Kiel proclaimed as they exited the club. He gazed upward with a grin. “Glorious. Let’s meander this way, yes?”
Issac stepped up beside Lizzie, but he refrained from touching her. She followed on autopilot—like a marionette being controlled by an invisible string linked to Kiel.
It took two blocks before Issac finally spoke. “What game are we playing, Ezekiel?”
“Why must everything be for amusement? Perhaps I’m helping you.”
“I highly doubt that.”
He chuckled. “You might be right, but I’m not the one playing a game here. That would be you, and it’s a dangerous one, I might add.”
Issac yawned and tucked his hands into his pockets. “Your riddles bore me.”
“Do they?” Kiel finally stopped and rotated to lean against the side of a building. “How about a suggestion instead?” He folded one ankle over the other, his gold-flecked eyes serious. “Move Astasiya out of the city before the Conclave discovers her secrets. And I’m not referring to her Sentinel training.”
The air chilled between the two men while Lizzie struggled to breathe. This was all too much. The underlying threats, comments on immortality, the realization that everyone she knew had lied to her…
Do I really mean that little to them?
“Why haven’t you acted?” Issac asked, his voice quiet but edged with lethality. It trailed goose bumps down Lizzie’s arms.
Dangerous.
Predator.
“My reasons are my own,” Ezekiel replied as he pushed off the side of the building. He fixed his gaze on Lizzie, eliciting a shiver from deep within.
Run.
But where would I go?
She couldn’t trust anyone.
“I’ll see you again soon, sweetheart, though I fear our next meeting will be under less favorable circumstances.” He managed to sound both contrite and unapologetic at the same time. And she had no idea how to reply to that.
“Have fun fixing this one, Jedrick,” he added as he caught something a second before it would have hit his nose. “Another memento. How thoughtful.” He slid the metal item into his jacket and disappeared into a shadow.
Literally.
Lizzie gaped at the display of inhuman behavior as her knees buckled beneath her. Issac’s arm around her waist kept her from falling, but she spun away on instinct, placing her back to the wall as she tried to locate Kiel.
“Where…? How…?” One moment he was walking, and the next he wrapped a cloak of darkness around himself and vanished into the night.
In the middle of New York City.
On the street.
How was that even possible?
“Lizzie.” Stas’s voice drew her attention to the left where she approached with Jayson and that Jacque guy from last night.
“Ezekiel has been talking,” Issac stated flatly. “How much he revealed, I’m uncertain, but it was clearly enough.”
Lizzie stumbled back as Stas reached out to touch her.
“Oh, Liz…”
Lizzie met her best friend’s gaze—the woman she’d known for seven years.
Trusted.
Loved.
“Tell me,” Lizzie whispered, needing to know. “Tell me that it’s not true.” She’d just seen a man vanish, for crying out loud. But it had to be an illusion.
All those things Kiel said had to be a lie. Right?
Vampires didn’t exist.
“Tell me it’s a lie,” she repeated, a little more desperate this time. “Tell me he’s insane. Please.”
Stas glanced at Issac, her lips opening and closing, and Lizzie’s heart beat unsteadily in her chest.
Oh God.
Her best friend wouldn’t keep something like this, would she?
No.
She couldn’t.
But everything Ezekiel said…
“Is Tom alive?” Lizzie’s voice held a weird raspy quality to it and sounded foreign to her ears. “Is it true? Is it all true?”
Stas visibly swallowed.
And then nodded.
“He’s…” Stas paused and cleared her throat. “Yes. Tom’s alive.”
“And Issac’s a vampire?” It came out on a squeak. “And Jayson…”
God, she couldn’t continue.
Insanity.
Complete and utter insanity.
Stas stepped forward. “Liz…”
No!
Lizzie’s hand reacted of its own accord, slicing across Stas’s cheek with a crack.
It felt so good to hit something, or rather, someone.
She wanted to do it again, only harder.
Everyone had lied to her.
Everyone.
“I deserved that,” Stas muttered. “But, Liz—”
Lizzie cut her off with a scream. It’d been building in her chest for hours, days, maybe even months, and exploded in a rush of sound she couldn’t contain.
Agony.
Fear.
Fury.
Hurt.
Pain.
They all culminated in that single moment, and she didn’t bother to hide it as she collapsed on the sidewalk without any care other than to release it all.
And release she did.
Over and over and over again.
Until she felt a strange sensation surround her.
A whooshing.
It knocked her out of her spell and into a new, dizzying one of dancing light and surreal sound.
Then she landed in a new reality.
On a beach at night with waves rolling in the distance.
“It’s okay, Red,” Jayson murmured. “You’re going to be okay.”
What craziness was this? A dream? A shift in dimensions? Her lips parted on a question when a drowsy spell hit her out of nowhere.
“She needs rest,” Issac said in response to something. A question, perhaps? Something Jayson… Maybe…
Oh, but sleep sounded nice.
A nightmare. That
’s all. She’d wake tomorrow.
Everything would be fine.
Yes.
“I’ve got you,” Jayson whispered as warmth wrapped around her.
Floating.
Starless night.
Heaven.
14
Was It a Dream?
Subject’s collegiate curriculum is not providing a sufficient challenge. It’s suggested that future iterations undergo a less rigorous academic regimen during the development phase.
—Entry Log 119.04.4-7
“It’s going to be okay,” Jayson whispered as he tucked Lizzie into his bed. No one had argued about the placement, not even Stas. He tucked a red strand of hair behind Lizzie’s ear and pressed his lips to her forehead. They lingered a second longer than needed, but he couldn’t help it.
She’s safe.
“I’m never leaving you unprotected again,” he vowed. She couldn’t hear him, but it didn’t matter. The promise was more for himself than for her because he suspected when she woke she would want nothing more to do with him.
And that realization hurt a hell of a lot more than he ever would have anticipated.
He brushed his knuckles over her cheek and stepped away reluctantly to join the others in his living room. Amelia and Tom were seated on the love seat, their expressions grim. Stas stood in the corner, her face buried in Issac’s chest, and Luc sat in Jayson’s favorite recliner, sipping a cup of tea.
Balthazar wandered in with two beers and handed one to Jayson. “Figured you could use this.”
Alcohol didn’t impact immortals at all, but he accepted the drink anyway. He could use the refreshment.
“She’s never going to forgive me,” Stas said, her voice pitched low for Issac but reverberating in the eerily quiet room. Even the strongest women required a moment of weakness, and this was it for Stas.
The anger and hurt resonating from Lizzie had been palpable. And that scream… Jayson would have nightmares about that sound. So much agony and pain wrapped up in a piercing shriek meant to wound. He winced at the memory and rubbed his chest on impulse. It did little to ease the foreign ache growing deep inside.
Stas’s statement about forgiveness applied to him as well. It was never Jayson’s decision to keep Lizzie in the dark, but he had engaged in a relationship with her under false pretenses, which made him a bit of an ass.
