He leaned toward me, breath hot against my neck. Somewhere beyond him, I could hear Mason shouting something, but all of my focus was on how close Isaiah’s teeth were to my skin. In the last few months, I’d only been bitten once— and that was when Lissa had had an emergency. Before then, she’d bitten me at least twice a week for two years, and I had only recently come to realize how addicted to that I’d been. There is nothing—nothing—in the world like a Moroi bite, like the flood of bliss it sends into you. Of course, by all accounts, Strigoi bites were even more powerful. . . .
I swallowed, suddenly aware of my own heavy breathing and racing heart. Isaiah gave a low chuckle.
“Yes. You’re a blood whore in the making. Unfortunate for you—because I’m not going to give you what you want.”
He backed away, and I slumped forward in my chair. Without further delay, he returned to Eddie and drank. I couldn’t watch, but it was because of envy this time, not disgust. Longing burned inside of me. I ached for that bite, ached for it with every nerve in my body.
When Isaiah finished, he started to leave the room, then paused. He directed his words at Mia and Christian. “Don’t delay,” he warned. “Seize your opportunity to be saved.” He tilted his head toward me. “You even have a willing victim.”
He left. Across the room, Christian met my eyes. Somehow, his face looked even gaunter than it had a couple of hours ago. Hunger burned in his gaze, and I knew I wore the complementary one: a desire to sate that hunger. God. We were so screwed. I think Christian realized it at the same time. His lips twisted into a bitter smile.
“You never looked so good, Rose,” he managed, just before the guards told him to shut up.
I dozed a little throughout the day, but Adrian didn’t return to my dreams. Instead, while hovering just at the edge of consciousness, I found myself slipping into familiar territory: Lissa’s head. After all the weirdness of these last two days, being in her mind felt like a homecoming.
She was in one of the lodge’s banquet rooms, only it was empty. She sat on the floor of the far side of it, trying to stay inconspicuous. Nervousness filled her. She was waiting for something—or rather, someone. A few minutes later, Adrian slipped in.
“Cousin,” he said by way of greeting. He sat down beside her and drew his knees up, unconcerned about his expensive dress pants. “Sorry I’m late.”
“It’s okay,” she said.
“You didn’t know I was here until you saw me, did you?”
She shook her head, disappointed. I felt more confused than ever.
“And sitting with me . . . you can’t really notice anything?”
“No.”
He shrugged. “Well. Hopefully it’ll come soon.”
“How does it look for you?” she asked, burning with curiosity.
“Do you know what auras are?”
“They’re like . . . bands of light around people, right? Some New Age thing?”
“Something like that. Everyone has a sort of spiritual energy that radiates out from them. Well, almost everyone.” His hesitation made me wonder if he was thinking of me and the darkness I allegedly walked in. “Based on the color and appearance, you can tell a lot about a person . . . well, if anyone could actually see auras, that is.”
“And you can,” she said. “And you can tell I use spirit from my aura?”
“Yours is mostly gold. Like mine. It’ll shift with other colors depending on the situation, but the gold always stays.”
“How many other people out there like us do you know?”
“Not many. I just see them every once in a while. They kind of keep to themselves. You’re the first I’ve actually ever talked to. I didn’t even know it was called ‘spirit.’ Wish I’d known about this when I didn’t specialize. I just figured I was some kind of freak.”
Lissa held up her arm and stared, willing herself to see the light shining around it. Nothing. She sighed and let the arm drop.
And that’s when I got it.
Adrian was a spirit user too. That was why he’d been so curious about Lissa, why he’d wanted to talk to her and ask about the bond and her specialization. It also explained a lot of other things—like that charisma I couldn’t seem to escape when I was near him. He’d used compulsion that day Lissa and I had been in his room—that was how he’d forced Dimitri to release him.
“So, they finally let you go?” Adrian asked her.
“Yeah. They finally decided I really didn’t know anything.”
“Good,” he said. He frowned, and I realized he was sober for a change. “And you’re sure you don’t?”
“I already told you that. I can’t make the bond work that way.”
“Hmm. Well. You’ve got to.”
She glared. “What, you think I’m holding back? If I could find her, I would!”
“I know, but to have it at all, you must have a strong connection. Use that to talk to her in her dreams. I tried, but I can’t hang on long enough to—”
“What did you say?” exclaimed Lissa. “Talk to her in her dreams?”
Now he looked puzzled. “Sure. Don’t you know how to do that?”
“No! Are you kidding? How is that even possible?”
My dreams . . .
I remembered Lissa talking about unexplained Moroi phenomena, how there might be spirit powers out there beyond healing, things no one even knew about yet. It would appear that Adrian being in my dreams was no coincidence. He’d managed to get inside my head, maybe in a way similar to how I saw Lissa’s mind. The thought made me uneasy. Lissa could barely even grasp it.
He ran a hand through his hair and tipped his head back, staring at the crystal chandelier above as he pondered. “Okay. So. You don’t see auras, and you don’t talk to people in dreams. What do you do?”
“I . . . I can heal people. Animals. Plants, too. I can bring dead things back to life.”
“Really?” He looked impressed. “Okay. You get credit for that. What else?”
“Um, I can use compulsion.”
“We can all do that.”
“No, I can really do it. It’s not hard. I can make people do anything I want—even bad things.”
“So can I.” His eyes lit up. “I wonder what would happen if you tried to use it on me. . . .”
She hesitated and absentmindedly ran her fingers over the textured red carpet. “Well . . . I can’t.”
“You just said you could.”
“I can—just not right now. I take this prescription . . . for depression and other stuff . . . and it cuts me off from the magic.”
He threw his arms up in the air. “How can I teach you to walk through dreams then? How else are we going to find Rose?”
“Look,” she said angrily, “I don’t want to take the meds. But when I was off them . . . I did really crazy stuff. Dangerous stuff. That’s what spirit does to you.”
“I don’t take anything. I’m okay,” he said.
No, he wasn’t, I realized. Lissa realized it too.
“You got really weird that day when Dimitri was in your room,” she pointed out. “You started rambling, and you didn’t make any sense.”
“Oh, that? Yeah . . . it happens now and then. But seriously, not often. Once a month, if that.” He sounded sincere.
Lissa stared at him, suddenly reevaluating everything. What if Adrian could do it? What if he could use spirit without pills and without any harmful side effects? It would be everything she had been hoping for. Besides, she wasn’t even sure if the pills would keep working anymore. . . .
He smiled, guessing what she was thinking.
“What do you say, cousin?” he asked. He didn’t need to use compulsion. His offer was plenty tempting in its own right. “I can teach you everything I know if you’re able to touch the magic. It’ll take a while for the pills to get out of your system, but once they do . . .”
TWENTY-ONE
THIS WAS SO NOT WHAT i needed right now. I could have handled anything else Adrian
did: hitting on her, getting her to smoke his ridiculous cigarettes, whatever. But not this. Lissa quitting those pills was exactly what I’d wanted to avoid.
Reluctantly, I pulled out of her head and returned to my own grim situation. I would have liked to see what further developed with Adrian and Lissa, but watching them would do no good. Okay. I really needed a plan now. I needed action. I needed to get us out of here. But, glancing around me, I found myself no closer to escape than I had been earlier, and I spent the next few hours brooding and speculating.
We had three guards today. They looked a little bored but not enough to slack off. Nearby, Eddie appeared unconscious, and Mason stared blankly at the floor. Across the room, Christian glared at nothing in particular, and I think Mia was sleeping. Painfully aware of how dry my throat was, I almost laughed in recalling how I’d told her water magic was useless. It might not do much in a fight, but I would have given anything for her to summon up some—
Magic.
Why hadn’t I thought of this before? We weren’t helpless. Not entirely.
A plan slowly coalesced in my mind—a plan that was probably insane but was also the best we had. My heart thudded with anticipation, and I immediately schooled my features to calmness before the guards noticed my sudden insight. On the opposite side of the room, Christian was watching me. He’d seen the brief flare of excitement and realized I’d thought of something. He watched me curiously, as ready for action as I was.
God. How could we pull this off? I needed his help, but I had no real way of letting him know what I had in mind. In fact, I wasn’t even sure if he could help me at all—he was pretty weak.
I held his gaze, willing him to understand that something was going to happen. There was confusion on his face, but it was paired with determination. After making sure none of the guards were looking directly at me, I shifted slightly, giving a small tug at my wrists. I glanced behind me as much as I could, then met Christian’s eyes again. He frowned, and I repeated the gesture.
“Hey,” I said loudly. Mia and Mason both jerked in surprise. “Are you guys really going to keep starving us? Can’t we at least have some water or something?”
“Shut up,” said one of the guards. It was a pretty standard answer whenever any of us spoke.
“Come on.” I used my best bitchy voice. “Not even like a sip of something? My throat’s burning. Practically on fire.” My gaze flicked to Christian as I said those last few words, then returned to the guard who’d spoken.
As expected, he rose from his seat and lurched toward me. “Do not make me repeat myself,” he growled. I didn’t know if he’d really do anything violent, but I had no interest in pushing it just yet. Besides, I’d accomplished my goal. If Christian couldn’t take the hint, there was nothing else to be done for it. Hoping I looked afraid, I shut up.
The guard returned to his seat, and after a while, he stopped watching me. I looked at Christian again and gave the wrist tug. Come on, come on, I thought. Put it together, Christian.
His eyebrows suddenly shot up, and he stared at me in amazement. Well. He’d apparently figured out something. I just hoped it was what I’d wanted. His look turned questioning, as though asking if I was really serious. I nodded emphatically. He frowned in thought for a few moments and then took a deep, steadying breath.
“All right,” he said. Everyone jumped again.
“Shut up,” said one of the guards automatically. He sounded weary.
“No,” said Christian. “I’m ready. Ready to drink.”
Everyone in the room froze for the space of a few heartbeats, including me. This wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind.
The guards’ leader stood up. “Do not screw around with us.”
“I’m not,” said Christian. He had a feverish, desperate look on his face that I didn’t think was entirely faked. “I’m tired of this. I want to get out of here, and I don’t want to die. I’ll drink—and I want her.” He nodded toward me. Mia squeaked in alarm. Mason called Christian something that would have earned him a detention back at school.
This definitely wasn’t what I’d had in mind.
The other two guards looked to their leader questioningly. “Should we get Isaiah?” asked one of them.
“I don’t think he’s here,” said the leader. He studied Christian for a few seconds and then made a decision. “And I don’t want to bother him anyway if this is a joke. Let him go, and we’ll see.”
One of the men produced a pair of sharp pliers. He moved behind Christian and leaned down. I heard the sound of plastic popping as the flex-cuffs gave way. Grabbing a hold of Christian’s arm, the guard jerked him upright and led him over to me.
“Christian,” exclaimed Mason, fury filling his voice. He struggled against his constraints, shaking his chair a little. “Are you out of your mind? Don’t let them do this!”
“You guys have to die, but I don’t,” snapped Christian, tossing his black hair out of his eyes. “There’s no other way out of this.”
I didn’t really know what was going on now, but I was pretty sure I should be showing a lot more emotion if I was about to die. Two guards flanked Christian on either side, watching warily as he leaned toward me.
“Christian,” I whispered, surprised at how easy it was to sound afraid. “Don’t do this.”
His lips twisted into one of the bitter smiles he produced so well. “You and I have never liked each other, Rose. If I’ve got to kill someone, it might as well be you.” His words were icy, precise. Believable. “Besides, I thought you wanted this.”
“Not this. Please, don’t—”
One of the guards shoved Christian. “Get it over with, or get back to your chair.”
Still wearing that dark smile, Christian shrugged. “Sorry, Rose. You’re going to die anyway. Why not do it for a good cause?” He brought his face down to my neck. “This is probably going to hurt,” he added.
I actually doubted it would . . . if he was really going to do it. Because he wasn’t . . . right? I shifted uneasily. By all accounts, if you got all your blood sucked out of you, you also got enough endorphins pumped in during the process to dull most of the pain. It was like going to sleep. Of course, that was all speculation. People who died from vampire bites didn’t really come back to report on the experience.
Christian nuzzled my neck, moving his face under my hair so that it partially obscured him. His lips brushed my skin, every bit as soft as I recalled from when he and Lissa kissed. A moment later, the points of his fangs touched my skin.
And then I felt pain. Real pain.
But it wasn’t coming from the bite. His teeth only pressed against my skin; they didn’t break it. His tongue moved against my neck in a lapping motion, but there was no blood to suck. If anything, it was more like some kind of weird, twisted kiss.
No, the pain came from my wrists. A burning pain. Christian was using his magic to channel heat into my flex-cuffs, just as I had wanted him to. He’d understood my message. The plastic grew hotter and hotter as he continued his barely there drinking. Anyone who’d been looking closely would have been able to tell he was half-faking it, but too much of my hair was blocking the guards’ view.
I knew plastic was hard to melt, but only now did I really, really understand what that meant. The temperatures required to do any damage were off the charts. It was like plunging my hands into lava. The flex-cuffs seared my skin, hot and terrible. I squirmed, hoping I could relieve the pain. I couldn’t. What I did notice, however, was that the cuffs gave a little when I moved. They were getting softer. Okay. That was something. I just had to hold out a little longer. Desperately, I tried to focus on Christian’s bite and distract myself. It worked for about five seconds. He wasn’t giving me much in the way of endorphins, certainly not enough to combat that increasingly horrible pain. I whimpered, probably making myself more convincing.
“I can’t believe it,” muttered one of the guards. “He’s actually doing it.” Beyond them, I thought I he
ard the sound of Mia crying.
The cuffs’ burning increased. I’d never felt anything so painful in my life, and I’d been through a lot. Passing out was rapidly becoming a very real possibility.
“Hey,” the guard suddenly said. “What’s that smell?”
That smell was melting plastic. Or maybe my melting flesh. Honestly, it didn’t matter because the next time I moved my wrists, they broke through the gooey, scalding cuffs.
I had ten seconds of surprise, and I used them. I leapt out of my chair, pushing Christian backward in the process. He’d had a guard on either side of him, and one still held the pliers. In a single motion, I grabbed the pliers from the guy and plunged them into his cheek. He gave some kind of gurgled scream, but I didn’t wait to see what happened. My window of surprise was closing, and I couldn’t waste time. As soon as I let go of the pliers, I punched the second guy. My kicks were stronger than my punches as a general rule, but I still hit him hard enough to startle him and make him stagger.
By then, the guards’ leader was in action. As I’d feared, he still had a gun, and he went for it. “Don’t move!” he yelled, aiming at me.
I froze. The guard I’d punched came forward and grabbed my arm. Nearby, the guy I’d stabbed was moaning on the floor. Still training the gun on me, the leader started to say something and then yelped in alarm. The gun glowed faintly orange and fell from his hands. Where he’d held it, the skin burned red and angry. Christian had heated the metal, I realized. Yeah. We definitely should have been using this magic thing from the start. If we got out of this, I was going to take up Tasha’s cause. The Moroi anti-magic custom was so instilled in our brains that we hadn’t even thought to try this sooner. It was stupid.
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