by Amy Patrick
Making my way to the elevator, I noticed something unusual. One of the glass doors to the observation deck was open a crack. Something small was propped at the bottom of it, holding it slightly ajar. Either a staff member had gone out to clean up from the night’s revelries or someone had found a way to bypass the two a.m. closing time. Maybe someone had put the object there earlier, planning to return for an after-hours private rendezvous out on the deck.
The opening called to me like a siren song. Slowly, I walked to it, put my hand on the cool glass. A faint whistle of wind passed through the gap, and the night air smelled fresh and alluring. Grasping the handle, I opened the door and stepped outside.
Though it had been scorching during the daytime, it was quite cool out here—maybe because of the elevation—maybe because we were in the desert. I didn’t know, but it felt good. I roamed farther onto the deck, past the sleek leather lounge furniture and art deco cocktail tables toward the white metal railing at the edge of it.
The Strip lay below, its lights twinkling quietly. Its usual noises were tempered at this height. A faint light was beginning to show in the sky. Sunrise. The beginning of the first day of the rest of my eternity without Macy. I grasped the metal railing, gripping it hard, my muscles shaking with tension.
How am I supposed to do this? How will I live without her?
Truth be told, I didn't want to. There was a second railing outside of this one, no doubt to protect tower visitors from falling to their deaths. Or to deter people who were having thoughts like the ones I was having at the moment.
I didn’t want to die. I wanted to live. With Macy. But that was impossible, and I truly didn’t know what the next step was. Dropping my chin to my chest, I finally allowed myself to cry.
I didn't even speak to her.
All my fantasies of revealing myself to her, seeing the light and the love that would flood her eyes when she saw my face for the first time—they would never come true. The tears came fast and furious, blowing across my cheeks in cool, wet tracks. My chest heaved with deep sobs.
When my phone rang, I almost didn’t pull it from my pocket. There was nothing anyone could say to make me feel better. There was no one I wanted to speak to, even if I had been in any condition to have a conversation.
But knowing Estelle was here in the city and that there was the possibility of another Ancient Court hunter team here as well, I answered.
“Hello?” my voice croaked.
“Nic? Nicolo, what is wrong?” my sister demanded.
“Nothing. What do you want?”
“Where are you? I checked the lobby, and you were gone.”
“I’m fine. I’m… at another hotel.”
“Well get back here as quickly as you can. I’ve found Macy’s room number, and I have something very important to tell you.”
I shook my head, unable to stop a new sob from cracking my voice. “It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s too late.”
“It’s not too late. There is a way to stop the plague and save the humans. But we must get to Macy—soon. She is the key to everything.”
Swiping away what remained of my tears, I took in a new breath, my heart rate picking up, and my mind coming to full alertness. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ve gotten some new information. I’ve found out why it’s so important to Alessia to find Macy.”
“I already know why—she’s furious with me over the broken betrothal and wants to punish me and experiment on her.”
“No, you don’t know. There’s much more to it than that. Now get back to our room—or tell me where you are so I can come and get you. There is no time to waste.”
I pulled my phone away from my ear and looked at it in astonishment. “I’m on my way.”
14
Nic
When I barreled through the door of our suite, my sister waited on the other side, ready to explain to me how she’d wheedled Macy’s room number from the hotel staff.
After speaking to her contact back in Italy earlier, she’d paid another visit to our friend Lorenzo last night. Turned out, he had spotted Macy and Anders together, and still under the influence of her Sway from earlier, he’d asked one of his co-workers in reception about them. Being a music fan—and a woman—the desk agent had recognized and remembered Anders.
She’d told Lorenzo the false name the famous musician had given when checking in—Tolkien. It had taken an additional dose of Sway and the promise of a date tomorrow, but Lorenzo had given Estelle the information. Too bad for him we’d be long gone by tomorrow. Sorry Lorenzo, buddy.
My sister insisted I shower and eat something before we went to drop the bomb—series of bombs, actually—on Macy and Anders.
“You look horrible. As far as I know, you haven’t eaten in the past twenty-four hours. You’re going to faint before you even see her. And you will shave,” she added. “It’s the first time your bond-mate will see your face in more than a year. She should see your face. If she turns out to be a fan of facial hair, you can grow it back.”
Weak with shock from the news she’d given me, and yes, with hunger, too, I obeyed. Twenty minutes later I was showered, dressed in clean clothes, freshly shaved, and about to see Macy, for better or worse.
My stomach boiled with nerves as Estelle and I stood side by side in the elevator on our way down to their suite. After the things she’d told me, there was no choice anymore. We had to make contact. If Macy had no interest in seeing me, it didn’t matter. We’d have to find a way to work together for at least a short while until we accomplished what needed to be done.
The elevator opened. We stepped out and consulted the sign on the wall to see which way to turn for Macy’s room number. As we took a left, Estelle reached for my hand and squeezed it.
“You will be all right,” she said. “No matter what. I am here for you.”
I nodded, too nervous to speak. When we reached the door, the two of us stood in front of it for a long moment, neither one reaching up to knock.
Estelle looked at me, “Are you ready?”
I nodded and squeezed my eyes tightly shut, focusing on breathing. I felt like I might pass out.
“You do it,” I said. My hands were shaking so hard I feared the rap of my knuckles would sound like a woodpecker at the door.
She knocked. It was only about six a.m., so it was likely they were still sleeping. But within a few moments, a male voice answered from inside.
“Who are you? What do you want?” Anders demanded, obviously seeing Estelle’s face through the fish-eye lens of the peephole.
There was murmuring on the other side of the door. I assumed he was informing Macy there was a woman outside, and they were debating whether the Ancient Court would send a female hunter.
“I am Estelle Buonoccorsi, Nicolo’s twin,” she answered. “I’m a friend—an ally. I’m here to help, and I bring news of great importance.”
More murmurs. Then, Anders said, “How do I know I can trust you?”
If Macy had spoken, it wasn’t loudly enough for me to hear her voice. I felt like I might explode if the door between us didn't open soon.
Estelle turned to me. “What do I say? He’s not going to open the door.”
“Tell them the first time I kissed Macy was just after I’d given her poppies… and made her cry,” I whispered. “No one knows about that but the two of us.”
She nodded. “Nicolo and I have always been completely loyal to one another. He told me about Macy. He told me about their first kiss. He’d given her poppies, and she cried.” She paused. “You must believe me. I would never do anything to harm the girl my brother loved.”
We waited for what felt like fifteen minutes before the deadbolt lock clicked. The door opened. Anders large frame filled the doorway, blocking my view into the room. As I’d realized after my initial moments of confusion seeing them in the elevator, he’d dyed his hair dark.
For long moments he stayed in place, his eyes on Estelle, n
ever veering toward me. Though he hadn’t seemed to even notice me standing behind her, he still looked like he’d seen a ghost. He stared at my sister in utter wonderment. His jaw actually dropped.
And then he stepped backward. Staggered backward would be more accurate, actually. He said absolutely nothing.
Estelle moved into the room, and I followed. At first I thought Macy wasn’t there. And then I spotted her. She was on the bed, under the covers up to her chin, sitting against the headboard with her knees scrunched up to her chest—a small person trying to make herself even smaller.
No longer conscious of where my sister and Anders were or what they were doing, I moved deliberately toward Macy, my gaze locked with hers. As I got closer, I saw she was trembling, and her wide dark eyes had filled with tears. My eyes were wet, too, forcing me to blink repeatedly to clear them. I couldn’t let anything blur this much-longed-for vision of her.
When I reached the bedside, my mouth opened, but no sound came out. What did you say to the girl you loved who believed you to be dead?
I’m not a ghost? No, you’re not crazy? Please don’t scream or pass out?
Finally, I uttered the only word I could force from my tightly constricted throat. “Macy.”
Her stricken eyes widened, and her body quivered. She drew in a large, loud breath, as if she hadn’t actually inhaled during the past few minutes and was desperate for oxygen. Very slowly, she reached toward me with a shaking hand.
“Nic?” The whisper was followed by a sob. “Am I dreaming?”
I clasped my hand around hers, and my eyes closed momentarily. The physical contact was almost too wonderful. Her soft skin, the tiny, delicate fingers wrapped in mine, the slight coolness in contrast to my heat. All of it was the stuff of my own dreams.
Opening my eyes again, I pulled her hand to my chest and pressed her palm to my rapidly beating heart, seeking to calm her obvious fear. “No. It’s me. I’m here, piccola. I have come back to you.”
Suddenly she burst into tears and wracking sobs. I dropped to the bed beside her and pulled her to me, wrapping my arms around her shaking shoulders and back and holding her head to my chest, rocking her the way one might a distraught child.
“What is happening?” she pleaded between sobs. She lifted her head to look at my face, reaching up to touch it. “They… told me you were dead.”
I shook my head, smiling down into her streaming eyes. “No. No, I was only sleeping. Dr. Schmitt sedated me, and I was unable to move, unable to speak… unable to get to you.”
“When—how long—how did you—”
She couldn’t seem to finish a question, all of her tangled thoughts rushing through her brain faster than her tongue could convey them.
“I woke about eight weeks ago. Dr. Schmitt had come to kill me and taunt me by threatening you. Instead, I survived, and he is dead.”
“Oh, Nic,” she said, fighting a new round of sobs. “I knew it. I knew it all along. I could feel that you were still alive, but I convinced myself it was my imagination.” She dropped her forehead to my chest again and wept. “I gave up on you. I should have been trying to help you, trying to free you from Dr. Schmitt.”
Petting the back of her head, I lowered my mouth and spoke into her hair. “No. No, don’t say that. You could not have known. And that castle was the last place in the world I wanted you. There was too much danger for you there, piccola.”
“I don’t care,” she wailed. “I should have done something.”
Grasping her shoulders, I set her back slightly so I could look into her eyes. “There was nothing you could have done for me. But you can do something for your people—for the humans, I mean. That is why Estelle and I are here.”
For the first time since entering the room, I glanced back at my sister. She stood watching us, as did Anders. Also for the first time, I realized how inappropriate it was of me to be holding and touching his girlfriend like this. I was shocked he hadn’t intervened or protested. Had I been in his position, I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself. Perhaps he was in shock. He had just now learned of my “return from the dead” as well.
Trying to be mindful of their relationship, I let go of Macy and shifted back a bit, allowing some space between us. The absence of her skin against mine left me cold and hungry.
She stared at me in bewilderment. “What do you mean? What is why you’re here?”
I drew in a breath before beginning. It was a lot to lay on a person, especially one who’d recently endured a shock. But as Estelle had explained to me earlier, there was no time to waste.
I wanted desperately to take her hands in mine, but I forced myself to ignore the urge.
“Macy… there are some things I must tell you. They are going to be surprising, perhaps even frightening. But please try to remember you’re not alone. Estelle and I will do everything in our power to help you. And you have…” I glanced back at the concerned face of her boyfriend. “…you have Anders.”
“What is going on, Nic?”
“There is so much to say. I guess I should start with this—you are not human.”
“What?” She gasped, understandably stunned.
Anders moved for the first time since seeing Estelle and me. He stepped closer to me and Macy. “What are you talking about?”
As considerate as I wanted to be of their new relationship, I did not address him when I answered. Macy was my main concern. And I still felt like he had taken something away from me, though the rational part of me understood he had not meant to do me any wrong. You couldn’t cuckold a dead man after all.
I’d vowed to be polite to him, but I might not be able to manage more than that. Besides, this information was primarily about her, and she was the one whose help the human race needed.
I kept my eyes trained on hers. “You are not human, Macy. Dr. Schmitt ran tests on your blood. You are a nymph. It is one hundred percent certain. I remember you telling me you were adopted. You were raised by humans, but your birth mother was undoubtedly a nymph. Your father, too. There is no human DNA in your body.”
15
Macy
I couldn’t respond, only shake my head slowly side to side, my mouth opening to speak then closing again as no words formed.
I still wasn’t convinced this wasn’t all a dream. When the knock at the door had woken us, Anders and I had assumed the worst—the Ancient Court had found us, and we were trapped, twenty-four floors above the ground in a room where the windows didn’t even open.
It was only when Estelle had mentioned that first life-altering kiss with Nic that I’d motioned for him to unlock the door. He didn’t like the idea, but he’d thrown on a shirt and done it anyway while I’d shrunk into the bed, bracing myself to see the face of Nic’s twin and the inevitable pain that would cause.
But when she’d stepped to the side and Nic had entered the room, all anticipation, all fear, every thought had flown from my mind, the empty space filling with heart-stopping shock.
For a split second I’d thought that perhaps Estelle was an Ancient Court agent and had shot me or done something else to end my life instantaneously because it was the only way my mind could explain the sight of him before me—so real, so physical—so beautiful. Not like the hazy memories I held of his face and beautiful form. I was in the afterlife, and paradise was being with him again.
But then, no. He wasn’t a spirit. His sparkling dark eyes, his thick, unruly hair, his tan, touchable skin, the thick muscle of his body—even the delicious scent of him—it was all undeniably corporeal.
Only in my dreams where I was once again able to touch him and hold him were my memories of Nic this vivid and tangible. So that was where my mind went next. I was dreaming. The entire sequence of events from the knock on the door to Nic approaching the bedside were part of a sweet, torturous dream that would wake me crying and haunt me for days to come.
And then he’d spoken—said my name. His voice, so lovingly remembered and desperately longe
d for all these months, was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard.
And when he touched me, it was like epinephrine had entered my body at the sight where skin met skin. The adrenaline flooded from that point throughout my bloodstream, waking me fully, bringing me back to life when I hadn’t even realized I’d been a walking, talking dead person all this time.
That new life was accompanied by such a flurry of emotions I wasn’t sure my heart would ever stop racing. Perhaps it would adopt this Elven-like speed as its own, and my pulse would finally be a match for Nic’s.
But now Nic was saying things that had me re-examining the dream thing. A nymph? I didn’t even know what that was.
“Nymphs are extinct.” Anders voice sounded dazed and very far away. I couldn’t see him, unable to pry my gaze from Nic’s face in front of me.
Estelle was the one to respond to him. “That’s what everyone believed. But the test results are irrefutable. And we’ve already seen proof beyond that. Nic should have died the morning you and your bandmates left the castle and rescued Macy. Her blood saved his life.”
Her words snapped me out of my stupor. Still sitting close to Nic, I grasped his wrist. “What? What happened to you? I thought you said the doctor sedated you?”
He looked down at my hand on his arm and swallowed. “Yes. He did. But first I tried to overtake him. I was determined not to let him use me in his plan to impregnate the fan pod girls. We struggled, but he overpowered me. As he was about to inject me, I attempted to take my own life.”
“No.” My hand covered my mouth in horror. The thought of Nic killing himself to protect Olly and the other girls ripped my heart out.
“I saw no other choice,” he explained. “I had discovered some glass vials in his clinic, and I broke them with my teeth, swallowed the broken glass. It should have killed me, but… well… the vials were filled with your blood. Instead of dying… I healed instantly.”
