But since she couldn’t do a thing about it, with a fucking happy face and a mind full of dread, she went to go party with the witches.
Three of them—one warlock and two witches—stood in the center of the lobby. Maybe Dawn told them where Addison would be or maybe they’d used a divining spell or maybe they just knew how few places Addison had to go. She smiled as she walked towards them. They glared back, edgy and mumbling nervously.
When her feet stopped, as if they’d been super-glued to the floor, she flailed her arms to stop herself from falling on her face. Then a tingling sensation moved up both legs, through her torso and down her arms, immobilizing her completely. As if from the neck down, all her bones had been fused.
“Let me go!” she called. “I was coming to you guys!” she said.
The warlock shook his head, waiting for two of the facility’s staff members to pass by before all three supers came towards her. In fact, everyone was wandering around as if it was just another day and Addison wasn’t being kidnapped. She was glad they were safe, but not as glad as she would’ve been if she was safe too.
“Are you Herrick?” she called to the warlock.
He nodded.
“Well, Herrick, listen. I’m in a shitty mood, made only shittier by the fact that I can’t move my body. Especially because I was really looking forward to doing a little dancing at that party you guys are having. There’s gonna be music, right?”
Since the dat vitae thing was new to everyone born in the last couple centuries, they were probably at as much of a loss as she’d been. And was. So, like she’d had with Dawn, Addison might have some room to stretch the facts. As long as she did it at the right time and in the right way.
“You were coming to us?” His voice was cold, almost robotic.
“Duh, yeah. I was just about to head over.”
“Dawn said you refused.”
Well, she’d have to thank Dawn for sharing. “Vamps are really territorial. I couldn’t just RSVP ‘yes’ with the Prime standing right next to me, could I? Then he’d end up crashing the party and drinking everything. I mean, everybody.”
“We’re not going to hurt you.”
“Great news. Why don’t you give me back my body, so we can go? On the way there, you can fill me in on what I do, besides not getting hurt.” Unfortunately, Herrick didn’t seem convinced, at least not fully. Her legs were released, but invisible shackles attached her ankles together, completely wiping out a chance for any fleeing she might want to do. But admittedly, it was impressive. She’d been under the impression witches needed more prep time to do stuff like this.
After they got frustrated by her mini-steps, they dragged her into a street free of anyone who could help her.
“You guys can’t make money, huh?” she asked as they shoved her into a Honda Civic. She asked question after question, needing answers for herself and for Rhyse’s voicemail. But Herrick wasn’t a big talker and Addison wasn’t sure the two women up front even could speak.
“What am I supposed to do while you guys are working on the ritual?” she asked as they got to a more rural area. “Do I clap or sing along or what?”
Herrick eyed her. “Your blood will increase the power of our magic.”
“You’re going to bleed me,” she said slowly. “So before, when you said you weren’t going to hurt me, you were just joking?”
“We will only take what we need.”
That was hardly reassuring.
He adjusted in his seat to face her more directly. “We are doing this to recreate our world, Addison.” Recreate the world. Sure and, undoubtedly, the witches would get all the box seats. “The Rising will come to pass.”
“I keep hearing about that, but no one ever tells me what it is. Wanna share?”
“Legend says a being will cause a power shift for all supernatural races. A great war will overturn the Treaty’s laws. The weak will no longer be weak and the strong will pay for their sins. The seers will control the higher races and a new world order will be created.”
Addison was pretty sure anyone who used the phrase ‘a new world order’ was insane. “Where are the witches in all this?”
“Do you know why we are called a ‘low race’?” He didn’t wait for her answer which would’ve been a hardy, ‘I don’t care!’ “Because we are primarily human and aren’t as bloodthirsty as the higher ones.” Said the guy who just admitted they planned to bleed her.
“Angels aren’t bloodthirsty.”
“Angels are the exception—powerful enough to kill relentlessly, but curtailed by their goodness. They weren’t always that way, though.”
Angels weren’t always good? That was another thing she had to learn about. But she wanted him to keep talking about her current problems and not ones that hopefully would never be her problem.
“I can’t imagine the seers being in charge. Or even imagine they’d want to be in charge.”
“They will need guidance,” Herrick said. Ah-ha. And guess who they’d be guided by. Oh, and controlled by.
“All seers want is to live their own lives.”
“The Rising is the only way that will ever happen.”
She thought of her vision—is that what it meant? What caused the grief on Rhyse’s face and the distance between them? Were the rows of bodies the result of this shift of power and new world order?
It couldn’t happen like that. Addison couldn’t let it.
Great—finally making a decision did absolutely nothing to change the situation. What she needed to do was figure out how to stop it from happening. Unfortunately, she couldn’t even rely on her power—witches didn’t bite, so Addison’s blood was just as useless as the rest of her. Pretending her collarbone was sore, she ran her hand over the pen still in her bra.
All she could hope was that six years of disposing of supers’ dead bodies would help her dispose of a few live ones.
Fifty-five
“I really like this place, Vamp,” the demon said, taking the chair by the fire and scooting it even closer. “Most offices aren’t cold, damp, or vamp-centric enough nowadays.”
“Did you come here for a tour or do you have news?” Rhyse asked.
“You weren’t this grumpy before you got staked.” Because he’d had less to lose. “I found the warlock, but you might not be too happy about it.”
That was highly probable. “Why did you not bring him to me?”
“Because he and a few of the other champions are currently in a barn about forty miles away, chained to a wall surrounded by witches. I’m pretty sure they’d notice me walking him out. Hey, this isn’t a part of the contest that I don’t know about, is it?”
“Hardly.” Although, today it would end the way the contest normally did—with the witch dead.
“Since this will probably be my last job before I go back to hell for a reboot, I’m going to tell you a little secret.” He leaned closer with a smirk on his face. “While I was there, I heard some witch chatter.”
“About what?”
“It seems somebody new is in town. A dat vitae.” He threw his hands up and laughed. “It’d be fucking hysterical if it wasn’t so terrifying. Am I right? It’s kind of hysterical, anyway. All the hard work it took to get rid of the little bastards and one pops up outta nowhere. Glad I’m not in charge.”
“I must go there. Now.”
“It’s a bit sunny out, isn’t it?” Damn. Sunset wasn’t for hours yet. Human modes of transportation were too slow.
“You will take me there now,” Rhyse said after only a moment’s thought.
“Only if I get to borrow your Bugatti, though. Does it have a lot of trunk space? I hope you don’t mind if the seats get a little melted. Just kidding…mostly.” He walked to the door. “Since we got a little time to kill, do you have anything solid to eat? It’ll help me stay cool.”
“A car is too slow. You must take me there now.”
“While I probably wouldn’t even if I could, I can’t pha
se more than myself.”
“Then you will take me through hell.”
“You mean through the portals?” He laughed. “Are you fucking kidding me? The Prime of North America in hell even for a short time? No way, Rhyse. Too risky for me, too painful for you.”
“You only go into the first level, don’t you?”
“Yeah, but it’s not a nice place down there, even on level one. No way, Vamp, not gonna do it.”
Demons made deals. It was their duty, their greatest joy, and one of the ways they burned off excess heat. Rhyse was asking a lot of Davyn, so he’d have to offer a lot in return. Money wouldn’t do—it was too pedestrian.
“Take me through,” Rhyse said, “and, in return, I will speak to your master and request an extension of your tour.” It would also postpone the series of excruciating ordeals the level-one demons went through to remove any humanity they accumulated while living topside.
His eyes widened. “How much time are we talking about?”
“I will not know until I speak with him, but I will do my best.”
Davyn clicked his teeth together. “Why would he agree?”
“Because I will offer him a soul he will find great joy in.” The soul of someone who, because he’d defied the Treaty, would not be allowed into the great beyond. Lamere would end up there eventually—he should have been executed centuries ago.
“You will have to track him down, of course,” Rhyse said. “Therefore I will require your assistance topside for longer.”
“A soul for a trip across town? That’s nuts. Do you have any idea what you’d be in for? An eternity in level nine with even half a soul is—” He shook his head. “You’re kidding.”
“You will take me to him, Demon.”
“No, I won’t, Vamp.” When Rhyse opened his mouth, Davyn flew out of the chair, shoving him in the chest. “Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say it, asshole.”
“I want to—”
“Don’t say it!”
“—make a deal with the Devil.”
“Fuck!” The word echoed off the walls. “You idiot! Why’d you do that? Fuck!” Davyn paced an angry line, cursing Rhyse and his mother and a few beings Rhyse didn’t even know. “Why didn’t you offer me something else, something that didn’t have to go through him? I wouldn’t have agreed to do it, but… Shit, Vamp, whatever your reasons, they aren’t worth it.”
“Yes, they are,” Rhyse said calmly. “I made the declaration. You are required to take me now.”
“You think I don’t know that?” the demon growled. “Fine. I don’t want to hear any complaints while we’re down there. And no tears. Because this is your doing.”
“I neither complain nor cry, I promise you.”
“Be careful what you promise a demon.” He shook his head. “I almost liked you, Rhyse.”
“Almost.”
“Mostly,” he said with a sad grin. “To get to him, I need to go deep.” He tapped his head. “In here. And you need to come along. It’s going to fucking hurt your head. Almost as much as level one will hurt your body.”
To prevent a war and see exactly what the witches knew about Addison, Rhyse would do anything.
“Be careful what you say to him,” Davyn said. “If you trip over your words and say something you don’t mean, he’ll hold you to it. And he doesn’t negotiate or do backsies. He probably won’t even speak.”
“How will I know if he agrees?”
“He’ll let you come back up,” he said after a pause. Then he held up his hands. “I gotta hang onto you, but I’m running really hot right now. If you give me a little time to cool off—”
“You are taking me to hell, Davyn. I am not concerned with the heat of your hands.”
The demon’s touch burned like the sun, the sizzling of his skin blocking out all other sound. But Rhyse kept his promise. He breathed slowly, not fighting the pain but moving through it. Trying to control pain was useless.
“Here we go, you idiot,” Davyn muttered.
“When we return, we will discuss the way you will address me in the future.”
“If we return…you idiot.”
Rhyse inhaled sharply as he felt himself be dragged into darkness. His teeth slammed together—an ineffective defense against the agony that seeped into every cell of his being, overwhelming every other sense.
“Welcome to hell, Vamp. How do you like it?”
“I…have felt worse,” Rhyse lied.
“Good, because this is only level one. We got eight more to go. And it’s going to get worse. A lot worse.”
As the unseen ground beneath him gave way and Rhyse felt himself fall, he understood all that pain could truly be. He managed to keep the scream inside. Barely. Instinctively he fought it, pulling against the force drawing him forward. It wasn’t Davyn—it was something else, something evil. Something impossible to fight because it was not matter, not living or inanimate.
It was nothingness.
He saw only black—the kind of absolute darkness exclusively found above the crust deep inside true caves. There was no sound, even though he felt as though he was falling fast enough to hear the sound of air being displaced.
“Almost there,” Davyn said.
Just before his mind cracked, Rhyse made it through, or rather, the Devil got through to him. The pain was replaced by something far worse—a horrible emptiness, hopelessness. The nothingness he’d felt drag him under now filling his body and mind.
For an entire generation after he’d become a vampire, Rhyse had felt the heavy burden of what he was. But it was nothing compared to this. No wonder the demons did whatever they could to get out.
He fought as long as he could, trying to focus on Addison and his responsibility to all the beings in his zone. But everything good and pleasurable and hopeful and trusting in him drained away until he was nothing, mindless, void. All he knew was the dark presence filling him.
In one more push to control his own mind, he held to the image of her face, her lips curled into a teasing smile. Because it was the only thing of pure beauty and light in his life. He would give up anything he had to see it continue.
“You’re on, Vamp.” Davyn’s voice came from a great distance. “Good luck.”
Fifty-six
“Sounds like you guys have things all figured out, then.”
The witches’ car drove through a metal gate and down a long gravel and dirt driveway. Addison should’ve called Micah by now to make sure he was on standby. Instead, she’d listened to Herrick blabbing about the new world order and other fun stuff they had planned. She needed as much information as she could get to stop them, but she had a sinking suspicion things were about to get out of hand.
“Micah?” She called him, asked for him, begged him, clicked her heels together with her whole damn heart, but he didn’t answer. Where was he? It wasn’t as if he had office hours. Maybe he’d meant it when he said he might regret telling her his name. First Rhyse and now Micah. Was there another party happening somewhere?
Shit. Okay, so no angel. But she still had a vamp…kind of. Or she would have a vamp as soon as the sun went down and he picked up his voicemail messages. So all she had to do was keep her hosts from killing her for another few hours. Then Rhyse would come rescue her…hopefully. She peeked at her phone and pressed ‘end,’ just in case the message wouldn’t show up in his box until it finished recording.
Her plan D was to go along with everything the witches wanted, pretend she’d accepted there was no way out of this until they trusted her and until she knew if they were really planning to use a child. And then she would find both of them a way out. The ‘how’ couldn’t be figured out until she was there. So until then, she had nothing to do but doubt herself.
“We are here,” Herrick said as they pulled up to a large, weathered barn. Addison got out of the car slowly, looking for something she could hide behind if it came to that. But the landscape was pretty barren, and Herrick seemed pretty impatient, drag
ging her towards the building without even giving her enough time to get her feet under her.
Inside the barn was hay, livestock, and a fair number of witches and warlocks. Someone pressed the mute button as soon as they saw her, and everyone stared like she was a celebrity or a circus freak. This was probably their regular hangout—they could just grab a goat to sacrifice whenever they needed one. She better not be tonight’s goat.
In the center of the barn was a pot the size of a small child. Oh, no. They couldn’t. A half-dozen thin, red tubes with small clips at the ends of each hung down into it. She tracked the tubes up to the ceiling where they merged and then ran over to one side of the hayloft above. “What’s with the tubes?”
“Part of the ritual. Would you like to see?”
“Why not? I’m here to be bled anyway, right?”
They climbed up to the loft space on a wooden ladder that had seen better days. Addison had seen better days, too. In fact, all her days had been better than this one. The supers chained to the wall on the second floor would probably say the same thing. She couldn’t see their faces, but she felt them—heavy anger muddled with extreme fatigue, a bit of fear as well. Probably from the more human of the bunch.
Squinting in the darkness, she asked, “What are the supers for?”
“The dat vitae combine all the supernatural races.” He motioned to the captives. “They and the coven’s magic will create another.”
“How’d you figure all this out?”
He looked at her. “Our coven did it twenty years ago.”
“Oh, right,” she said sighing. “Before they all burned to death. Do you think history will repeat itself? First the whole Salem thing, then—”
“Shall I continue?” He waited for her shrug. “Once the being is created, it will be placed into a body.”
“Whose body?”
“A human’s.”
“And what do I do again?” When she felt her blood-pen slide down a bit, she wrapped her arms around herself, just under her breasts, to block it from falling all the way out.
Unseen (The Heights, Vol. 1) Page 28
