“Vitae!” The oracle glared at Addison…without eyes. How was that even possible? “Because our races are kin, I will allow you to return, but the next time you speak rather than ask will be your last visit to the catacombs. Do you understand?”
“Yeah, sorry. It’s a shock, that’s all.”
“You must leave now.”
“What? No!” she cried. “Can’t you give me more time? I need a chance to think of the right question.”
“Soon it will be your time, Vitae. Prepare yourself for what is to come.”
“What’s to come?”
“The Rising.”
“Can you please say something that makes sense?” She paced around the room, ranting, and turned to—no one. Where did the old cow go? “Wait! I didn’t— I don’t know how to prepare myself. You can’t leave without—”
Useless. Nobody cared. Nobody made sense.
“Here’s a question for you,” she screamed, spinning in a circle. “How am I supposed to get out of this goddamn place?”
Turned out, all she had to do was find the right wall to walk through. Yep, she walked through a fucking wall with her eyes closed, as if this was a trust exercise or something.
Addison opened her eyes down a dark tunnel with a light at the end of it. Seriously? As if the last hour hadn’t been fun enough. With her feet dragging along like they were, she kept one hand on the wall for balance. If there was even a small bump, she was going down. And she wasn’t sure she’d be able to get back up anytime soon.
She wiped her eyes to check if she was crying. Thankfully, her emotions were still stuck at a ‘numb and angry’ level. Rhyse would demand to know what she’d seen and everything she and the fortune teller had discussed after he left. And Addison’s answer would be: Nothing and too much.
The old bat only spoke in riddles, vaguities, and oxymorons, but Addison had gotten the gist. A really fucking bad gist that left her in a really fucking bad mood. Probably a common reaction to someone telling you that every memory you have is a big joke that you didn’t get. Left everybody else laughing, but certainly not you. Because all the things you thought you’d experienced weren’t real, and the person you’d always believed was your mom was actually somebody else’s. The somebody else whose body you’d inhabited since their death.
There wasn’t a curse word strong enough for what she wanted to scream. She’d taken a dead little girl’s body. A four-year-old. It didn’t matter if the girl had just passed away when Addison was somehow shoved into it—it was still…nauseatingly horrible. Her mom raised someone she thought was hers.
Addison remembered waking up, little bits anyway. Her mom sitting next to the hospital bed looking dead herself. Addison was almost smothered by that first hug, lifted off the bed and tucked into the safe arms of a sobbing woman. She’d touched her face and asked why mommy was so sad and told her she didn’t feel good and wanted to go home.
To a home she’d never seen before, with a woman she’d never met before. A few days later, the angel came to her, explaining that she should never tell anyone about the creatures she saw or else bad things would happen to her and her mommy. It didn’t seem like a threat at the time, probably because it was spoken by an angel, but it had been. The first threat of the Heights.
She couldn’t remember a time when she didn’t feel guilty about her father’s death—he’d died saving her life. Because of Addison, her mom had lost her husband. Turned out she’d lost her daughter at the same time. Maybe that was Addison’s fault, too.
The pain she felt and the grieving she’d done for her father had never been hers to feel. She’d stolen sacred emotions from someone who had truly loved him, who’d been a part of him. The memories since then were hers, but they were all built on someone else’s truth.
If she’d known what the right questions were, she would’ve asked them. The oracle had dismissed her before she understood a single goddamn thing. Great, she was a combo platter of supers. Thanks for the intel. But what did it actually get her? A little light sensitivity, maybe a bit more strength than other people who never worked out, but it wasn’t as if she got hairy once a month. Bitchy, yes. Grumpy, hell yes. But hairy? Nothing a sharp razor or some wax couldn’t take care of.
And what the fuck did ‘Soon it will be your time’ and something about a Rising mean? A rising of what? And was this ‘her time’? A crappy day filled with confusion, exhaustion, terror, a weird blind woman, and a murderous vamp?
Yeah, it sure as shit felt like this was ‘her time.’
Maybe ‘her time’ was what she’d seen in a stupid hallucination of her fucking the murderous vamp. Or was ‘her time’ the other vision she’d seen? She shivered as the image appeared in her mind again. Horrific.
An endless line of bodies at her feet and a raging fire behind her. So many bodies. So many. And somehow she was responsible for them. Maybe not directly, not all of them at least. Logan was standing nearby with a few others she didn’t recognize.
And Rhyse. She never imagined it was possible for any being, let alone for a vampire, to express that much pain with just their eyes.
It had to be a faulty vision—she wasn’t a killer. She couldn’t even kill Rhyse when he was half-dead and strapped down.
“It’s not going to happen.” Her desire to get out of this cold, miserable place was the only thing keeping her standing, trudging along. Her mind was doing loop-di-loops and her body wasn’t going to hold out much longer. She slowed even more as she neared the light, giving her eyes a chance to adjust, giving her brain a chance to come up with something to tell Rhyse.
Then the lights went out. No, that wasn’t quite right. The darkness was in the shape of a man, light surrounding him. He was no angel, though—he was all vamp.
“Move,” she yelled. “I can’t see as it is.” No way was she going to follow the old lady’s advice regarding him. Thank the powers for free will.
“You are weak.” He appeared in front of her, his arms already around her waist. “I will carry you.” Why was he helping her? Being nice wasn’t part of his kingly duties. Vamps didn’t take care of seers. But she wasn’t a seer anymore, was she? She’d never really been one.
So who the hell am I? She pulled away from him. “I’m fine.” He didn’t say anything else, staying behind her until she stopped. “You’re hovering, Vamp. Back off.” She had too much to process before she told him anything, if she could tell him anything. “Can you take me home now?”
He circled her and lifted her chin, holding her up. If she could see better, she knew she’d see a question in his eyes and on his lips. But he didn’t ask. Maybe he thought he was still in front of the oracle.
“Please, Rhyse.” Her voice shook. “I just want to go home.”
“I cannot take you there.”
Crap. She was going to lose it any second. “Why not?”
“It will be daylight soon, and I know you will try to leave me.”
“You said you were going to let me go.”
“I cannot.” His tone was hard, cold, even more than usual.
“You promised! Please. I’m begging you—take me home.”
“Am I complicit in your death?”
“What?” Was that what he was worried about? The method he used to murder her? “I don’t know. That’s not what I saw.”
“What did you see?”
“You mean besides us screwing?” she spat. “As if that wasn’t traumatic enough?”
“I cannot take you to your home.” When he slipped his arms around her waist, she put her hands on his chest and pushed, which did absolutely nothing productive. The only movement it created was a tightening of his arms.
“Get off me!” Then the tunnel faded and she needed to throw up again. She kind of wished she had—all over him.
Eighteen
“Damn you, Rhyse!”
His grip loosened and she stumbled, her arms shooting out to the sides for balance. He grabbed one, but as soon as she knew she wasn
’t going to fall over, she yanked it away. And he allowed her to.
“Where are we?” Obviously not her apartment or anywhere else she’d ever been. She looked around and shivered. A comically-enormous bed didn’t even take up a quarter of the gigantic room. A bunch of white sheets in the shape of a couple of chairs, a small couch, and a dresser gave the space all the glamour of an old horror movie. Couldn’t supers show any originality at all? The place was probably haunted.
“You need warmth.” He crossed to the fireplace, and moments later it glowed, flames flicking up like tongues. “Come closer. I will not harm you.” He stood back, his hands in his pockets.
The flames drew her in, reminding her of what she’d seen. They frightened and warmed her equally. Opposing emotions seemed to be the new thing for her. For the fire in front of her and the vampire behind her. Even her tears seemed confused—pushing right up to the edge of her eyes but not making that last tiny effort to escape.
“Why didn’t you take me home?” she asked, her voice flat.
“It will be dawn soon. I cannot phase during daylight hours and we have much to discuss before dusk.”
Bottom line: she was trapped. Why not check out the cage? “What is this place?”
“One of my mountain homes. I have not been here in a very long time. The closest town is ten miles away, so you will be safe.”
“Safe?” At the word, something in her gave, unleashing her exhaustion, frustration, and rage. She spun towards him, daring him to kill her, to end this before it had a chance to begin, before anyone other than her was damaged.
“You mean like a prisoner is safe? Or like you pretend a toy is? Is that why I’m here?” She threw her arms out. “You know what? We both know it’s going to happen, so why not just get it out of the way?” She shook off his jacket and unbuttoned her jeans.
He covered her hands with his, stopping her. “Do you think I would have you like this? Out of grief or spite? No, Addison. Not like this.” He picked up the jacket, put it over her shoulders, and buttoned it. “We will remain here until I have made the city safe for you. I will keep you from harm. So—”
“It’s not your job to keep me from harm, Rhyse. I’ll be fine. I’m golden.” She spoke quickly, loudly, jarringly. “At least until somebody makes a decision that they weren’t going to make and it screws up the timeline. Hell, maybe you bringing me here is actually the thing that kills me. Or maybe we’re supposed to be fucking right now and the fact that we’re not is what guarantees my death. What a bummer that would be for both of us, right? You don’t get laid and I get dead.”
His head dropped forward. “This has nothing to do with sex, Addison. The oracle said we should remain together for as long as we can. If I brought you to your home, we would be separated.”
“That woman was insane! We don’t know what will happen, whether we’re stuck with each other or not. She didn’t even know.” When Addison took a breath, her stomach decided to give its opinion in the form of a long, loud growl. “Shut up!” It didn’t. When was the last time she’d eaten? Or slept? Or felt safe?
She wasn’t hungry, but some serious emotional eating might help. Even hell is probably easier to deal with if you have chocolate.
And since Rhyse didn’t eat, one of them would have to go somewhere for food. Obviously not her, because she wasn’t allowed to leave her cage. At least it meant she’d be alone and have a chance to cry without him seeing. Maybe she could run for it, if she found the door.
Oh, who was she kidding? She wasn’t up for a ten-mile run on a good day.
“I will get you food.” As soon as he disappeared, she knew there was no way to escape. If there was, he wouldn’t have let her out of his sight.
She went to a window and looked outside. Totally not the city. Wherever they were was covered with snow, but not much else. Lots of trees, but no people. Ten miles to the closest town. He wouldn’t have a house outside the zone, so they were definitely still in North America.
Great. That narrows it down. She slumped onto a chair, not bothering to remove the sheet. Stuck in a vamp’s bedroom ten miles from civilization almost topped finding out she wasn’t who or what she’d always thought she was. Coming in only slightly before hearing she was supposed to be part of something she knew nothing about and didn’t want to be involved in.
Awesome. Life couldn’t possibly get any better than this. No wait, it could! She’d almost forgotten she was going to fuck the vamp who was holding her captive. Then they’d get to hang out for a while because some lady with gross eyes told them to. Did Rhyse really expect Addison to somehow ignore all logic and buy into ‘visions’ that were obviously delusions?
Her chest tightened until she couldn’t quite expand her lungs to get enough air. I need to get out of this place. I’m going to die here. She didn’t want to die here. Get somewhere I can breathe. She yanked the blanket off the bed and the sheets off the other furniture and went in search of a door. As she moved, she straightened the sheets in her arms and wrapped them around herself, grabbing more from each room she passed. She was still going to freeze her ass off, unless being a super-vitae gave her some kind of anti-freeze magic.
From the top of an enormous stairway, she saw the door. Of course the place was enormous—for someone who lived forever and could control people’s minds, it probably qualified as a little getaway cabin.
As soon as the door opened, the cold struck. Dry, icy air going right through her makeshift parka, seeping into every cell. What a stupid superpower—her only defense was if someone took a bite out of her. Otherwise, she was as weak and powerless as she’d always known she was.
“You will freeze to death,” he said from behind her.
“I know.” Even fire would die outside.
“Is that what you want? Are you so afraid of death that you would cause your own?”
“Not sure. What’s it like?” She stayed still, letting the frigid air punish a body that didn’t belong to her.
“My death was unpleasant. Yours does not have to be.”
“Are you going to kill me gently, Rhyse?” she asked, chuckling bitterly.
“Is that what you saw?”
“I can’t… I can’t tell you what I saw. It was…” She didn’t even know how to describe the expression on his face. ‘Pain’ was too mundane a word. ‘Anguish’? Still too weak. “It wasn’t your death and it wasn’t mine.” But it was so many others. And they were all her fault.
How could this be happening? How could someone know who they were one day and be proven wrong the next? And then be shown that tomorrow they’ll be someone else, someone who can kill or be responsible for countless deaths.
How is that possible?
“For what you did, I offered your life. But only once, Addison. Are you sure this is how you want to collect on it?”
“I don’t know what I want.” She took a step forward.
“If you are determined to leave, perhaps some nourishment will keep you unfrozen for longer.” Was he joking? If it was possible for him to smile, would he be? When she turned around to check, he held a large paper sack out towards her.
“You went grocery shopping?”
“The cupboards are bare.”
And suddenly she was laughing, bent over, hold-your-stomach hysteria, imagining Rhyse wandering the aisles at an all-night grocery store, picking out food for her.
“Addison!” He dropped the bag and rushed forward, probably never having seen anyone laugh before and thinking this was something he should save her from.
She couldn’t speak because her mind was too disjointed. It wasn’t that funny. A little funny, but not enough to cause this reaction. If he hadn’t been holding her up, she would have slumped to the floor.
Except she wasn’t laughing anymore—she was sobbing. And she couldn’t stop or protect herself or get away.
With gasping breath, she said, “I’m not real. I’m not human. I was created not born, my mom isn’t really my mom, my life
was never really my life. This isn’t even my body. It’s someone else’s. Someone dead. And I’m… I’m just keeping it warm.” It took forever for her lungs to fill because everything was leaving her, escaping a sinking ship. Empty. Cold. Terrified. “I’m not real.”
She was lifted by arms that could crush her. But they didn’t. They cradled her, enveloped her, held her close.
“You are real,” he said softly. “You have always been real. All that has changed is your perception of yourself. In the same way mine did when I turned vampire. You must learn a different way to be, but you have always been real.” He shifted her in his arms and slammed the door shut. “I will not allow you to die, Addison. I will not allow it to happen.”
“Too late,” she whispered as he carried her away from the cold.
Nineteen
~ ~ ~
Parker, a seer
“Everyone put down whatever you’re working on,” the head of the Histories Department shouted. “We have a guest.”
Parker used her finger as a placeholder on the last name she’d entered into the log. Since the werewolf the name belonged to had been found dead in an alley well over a week ago, she figured he wouldn’t mind waiting a little longer. She, however, would’ve preferred to wait. Whatever Walter was shouting about wasn’t going to be good news, because there was no good news in the Histories Department. In the Heights, knowledge was less about power and more about pretending you forgot what you just read. Life was safer that way.
“Everyone, please,” Walter screamed again as he bounced at the heels of some guy in a suit.
The suit stopped right in front of her. “Her.”
“Him,” she said with the same dismissive tone. “It. Them. All great personal pronouns.”
“She’ll do if she can keep her mouth shut.”
Said mouth dropped open so quickly, Parker may have pulled a muscle in her jaw. “What did you just say?”
Unseen (The Heights, Vol. 1) Page 10
