by Lynne Ewing
He picked up Wally and petted him as he surveyed the bedroom. The Lava lamp lay on its side. Tarot cards were flung about the room and the leopard-print sheets twisted in a trail to the door. He heard another crash from downstairs. He set Wally on the bed and ran cautiously into the dark hallway. He paused, then headed for the staircase.
He started down, one step at a time, his breathing shallow and loud, his back pressed against the wall, not daring to rest his hand on the railing in case Lambert’s specter were waiting at the foot of the stairs.
At the bottom he stopped and studied the shadows. The soft whimper of someone crying came from the back of the house. He turned and crept toward the kitchen. At the door, he pressed his ear against the wood and listened.
Fear made his hearing too sensitive. It was like a roar in his head. A car passed down the street and the noise of its rolling tires hid the simple sounds he needed to hear, ones that could betray Lambert.
His fingers found the doorknob and silently he turned it. Tumblers clicked. There was no way to muffle the sound. If Lambert’s spirit was still in the house, the noise would tell him where Stanton was now. He froze, waiting, and leaned his forehead against the door. The stillness that followed seemed complete. Maybe Lambert wasn’t inside now, but waiting in the shadows by Stanton’s car.
Finally, Stanton pushed open the door and crept inside. He had expected to be greeted by Lambert’s energy but instead cool air hit him with the good smells of apples and bread. He let out a huge sigh of relief.
The moon had risen and its milky light filtered through the kitchen windows, making shadows around the counter and stove, pots and pans more vivid. Stanton breathed in, trying to sense Lambert. Now the silence felt too deep, the air too heavy, as if Lambert’s spirit had somehow hushed the city sounds of ticking clocks, sirens, and traffic.
“Serena,” Stanton whispered and waited.
When no one called back, he stepped through the kitchen to the dinning room and glanced in. A steady light from the moon cast a silver glow over the table and chairs, but he didn’t see anyone or any signs of struggle. He turned and hurried back the way he had come toward the service porch, his feet padding stealthily.
As he passed back through the kitchen, a faint hissing made him turn. He took two steps toward the sound and smelled gas. Quickly he turned the knobs and shut off the gas. Lambert had somehow turned on the burners without letting the pilot light ignite. Stanton glanced around the room. He didn’t think that Lambert had wanted to cause an explosion. More likely he wanted Stanton to know that his spirit had been in the kitchen with him all along. Then with a shudder Stanton realized that Lambert was probably watching him even now.
Another soft cry filled the house.
“Serena,” he called again.
He left the kitchen, slipped through the dining area, and faced another door that led into the living room. He pushed through and stopped. His breath caught in his lungs.
Jimena stood in the corner between the couch and a large chair, her eyes wide with energy. A soft blue glow danced over her head. She tried to focus her power on the ghostly light, but when she sent out her force, the buoyant glare only bobbed away and sparks showered in the air.
She prayed to the moon goddess Selene. “O Mater Luna, Regina nocis, adiuvo me nunc.” The prayer seemed to weaken the sapphire light.
Still, Stanton could tell its attacks were hurting Jimena. She whimpered with each bolt of light that struck her face. She sent another burst of energy at the phantom as Stanton crept across the room, the fall of his footsteps absorbed in the thick carpeting. He didn’t know what he could do. His arms and legs were shaking violently, but he wasn’t going to let Jimena fight Lambert’s spirit alone.
He grabbed a crystal vase from a coffee table and continued forward, hoping that if he were lucky, he might be able to contain Lambert’s apparition.
He charged and swept the vase into the air and caught the blue-gray glow inside.
“You caught it,” Jimena yelled and rushed to his side. “Do you know how to get rid of it?”
He held his hand over the top of the vase. The light inside turned a deep cobalt and flickered like fire, then the crystal exploded, sending glass splinters showering through the air.
Stanton shielded his face with his hands.
When he looked out again, the light stretched and vanished toward the front door.
“What was it?” Jimena asked as she picked a piece of glass from her arm.
“Lambert,” Stanton answered. “He’s a spirit now. Where’s Serena?”
Jimena shook her head. “I don’t know. Somehow in the confusion the three of us got split up. I locked Vanessa in the bathroom upstairs.”
“And don’t ever do it again,” Vanessa ran into the living room, trying to catch her breath. She hugged Jimena tightly. “We have to stay together if we’re going to win. It took me forever to turn invisible and escape.”
Jimena nodded. “I was only trying to protect you.”
“I know. You thought I was too upset to fight.” Vanessa wiped away tears. “I think Serena’s outside.” Then she looked at Stanton. “Do you know any way to get Catty back?”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry. We have to think about saving Serena now. Lambert wants to settle his spirit in her body.”
Jimena let out a sigh. “I hope she’s running then because I’m sure Lambert went that way. The blue light did anyway.”
Stanton’s heart sank. “He’ll find her.”
Without hesitation, Jimena started toward the door.
Vanessa joined her. Stanton opened the door and they ran outside.
“There,” Jimena pointed. Serena was sprinting down the sidewalk away from a strange coil of light that was gaining on her.
Vanessa went invisible, her dusty molecules swirled, then she sped after the light.
“Serena!” Stanton shouted and raced toward her. Jimena’s footsteps pounded the sidewalk behind him.
Suddenly, the light chasing Serena changed into a streak of lightning. Thunder crackled through the night. The bolt shot through the dark with savage power and caught Serena. She stopped, stunned.
“No!” Jimena screamed.
A pale blue aura formed around Serena. Then the light stole her away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“WHAT NOW?” JIMENA asked, blinking back tears.
Vanessa became visible again. “I couldn’t get to her in time,” she said to herself, wracked with guilt. “I wanted to make her invisible and take her away.” She looked at Stanton tearfully. “Is she gone like Catty now?”
He shook his head. “I’ll stop him,” Stanton started to walk away, determined.
“We’ll help,” Jimena followed him, Vanessa close behind her.
“No!” Stanton yelled abruptly. “You can’t help.” Then in a quiet voice he added, “Just tell Serena that what I did, I did for her.”
Jimena knew immediately what he planned. “Don’t do it!”
Vanessa tried to grab his arm, but he darted away.
When he was hidden in shadows, he looked up at the night sky. He had no choice. He pressed his hands against his forehead, trying to think of another possibility. There was none.
He wiped at the hot tears stinging his eyes, then slowly he lifted his arms to the fathomless black sky. He could endure anything if he knew Serena was safe. Anything.
“Father of night and evil, I call you.” A primitive vibration trembled in the air. He knew the Atrox was near.
“Allow me to cross over and become your servant again.”
A deadly cold throbbed through him with the ancient rhythm of evil.
“I come freely,” Stanton added and felt something collapse inside him. “Take me back to the night.”
Spears of lightning crackled across the sky and a concussion boomed through the earth, releasing the sulfurous smells of hell. Then a raven-black cloud seeped up from the ground and hovered around him.
Stan
ton held an image of Serena’s face deep inside him as he breathed the icy spirit of the Atrox back into his body. The chill seeped deep inside him, wintry tentacles reaching down to his bones. The Atrox embraced him and welcomed him back to its congregation. Its raw power surged through him and when Stanton opened his eyes, he again ruled the night.
The world around him seemed sharper now, as if he could see in the dark. His pain was gone and in its place he felt a dark joy. He grinned as the wild rapture seized him. This time he was no longer invitus. Evil pulsed through him without guilt or worry, consequence or remorse. He breathed in the feel of it, then leaned back and became a black mist, hissing into the air.
He didn’t see with his eyes now but with a far more powerful vision inside his mind. He suddenly became aware, not of Lambert, but Serena. He rocketed through the shadows. Trees, houses, fence posts, and guard dogs blurred into blackness behind him. He slammed to a stop and became whole again. Anyone seeing him would have thought he had walked from a shadow.
“Serena,” he whispered.
She was bent over, near a tree, gripping her stomach. Her breathing came in shallow gasps and her lips pressed tight together against the pain.
“What did Lambert do to you?” he asked but he didn’t need an answer. Lambert had tried to enter Serena and take over her body.
Stanton soothed back her hair.
“It hurts,” Serena moaned.
Stanton clasped her hand, trying to ease her pain. She dug her fingernails into his palm.
“Where is Lambert?”
Serena didn’t answer at first. Her lips quivered. “You mean, the light? Is that Lambert?”
Stanton nodded.
“I’m not sure. It dropped me because it couldn’t control me. That’s what I think happened, anyway.”
“You were too strong for Lambert. He didn’t expect your resistance to be so great.” Or, Stanton wondered, maybe Lambert had sensed that Stanton had returned to the Atrox. He put his arm around Serena. “You need to go to the hospital.”
“No,” she whispered. “Take care of Lambert first.” Her eyes opened and there was a horrible sadness in them.
Stanton understood at once that she knew he was a Follower again. He glanced down and saw her moon amulet glowing. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “It was the only way.”
“I’m sorry, too,” she answered and now tears rolled from her eyes. “We could have done it without your going back.”
He wasn’t going to argue with her. “Hospital first,” he answered and wrapped his arm around her waist.
She tried to walk but stopped. “I can’t make it.”
He swung her into his arms and she leaned her head against his chest. He started to carry her to his car when a piercing cry made him turn. Bluish lightning screamed after them. Stanton ducked, and held Serena cradled tight against him.
The bolt of light spun into a tree. Wood splintered and cracked. The light circled a street lamp. The globe popped and glass shattered onto the street. Then the light came back for another attack and disappeared abruptly.
Silence followed. Stanton knew Lambert’s spirit was nearby, gathering power for another attack.
He hurried across a lawn, still carrying Serena. His car was parked on the street in front of him in full moonlight. The lunar glow made his eyes burn. They had almost reached the car when Serena dug her fingers into his shoulder.
“No!” her dry voice pushed into hysteria. “Please, no!”
He turned and saw the blue glimmer growing larger and coming at them. He opened the passenger-side door and eased Serena inside. Her head lolled against the back of the seat.
Stanton turned to face Lambert’s spirit, but the blue light was gone. The moon’s steady glow cast a thousand shadows under the trees, each one a potential hiding place for something that was only spirit.
Suddenly, electrical veins shot toward him. Instead of ducking the charge, Stanton turned to shadow and let Lambert’s spirit flow through him. He surrounded the light and immediately struck with his mind control, taking Lambert’s spirit deep inside him, imprisoning him in a memory of the Atrox.
Lambert’s screams still vibrated through Stanton, as he became whole again and yanked open the car door. He fell behind the steering wheel. His hand searched under the floor mat for the key, found it, and started the engine. He touched Serena. Her skin was cool and clammy.
“I love you, Serena.” He turned onto Beverly Boulevard and sped toward Cedars-Sinai Hospital.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
A WEEK LATER, STANTON walked into the fire. Sparks cascaded around him and formed a crown in his hair without burning. The cold blaze lashed around him, etching a frosty crystalline pattern of his arms and face.
He stared at the other members of the Inner Circle through the veil of flames as the fire burned his mortality away and he became an Immortal again. Their eyes looked more pleased than angry, more content than covetous. Stanton had destroyed the traitor Lambert, and the Atrox was pleased.
The fire became a maelstrom, shrieking up to the heavens in triumph. The crown of burning embers stayed on his head. Bits of fire showered the night and formed a pathway toward the blaze.
Three of the highest-ranking members stepped slowly forward along the fiery path, carrying a cloak spun of black, silky threads. Together they spread the fabric and set the cloak over Stanton’s shoulders.
He stared at the emblem, surprised by what he had been given. He smiled, satisfied, and knew that Jimena’s final premonition had come true. Only one was allowed to wear this crest. It was the highest honor given by the Atrox; two hands holding the eternal flame of evil. Stanton understood its significance. He had once been destined to be a prince. Now he was Prince of the Night.
Hours later, Stanton’s car sped through the dark streets, its mufflers roaring against the pavement. Winds had cleared the smog and the open, star-filled sky seemed an omen of good fortune.
He parked a block from Serena’s house and slipped from his car, then walked into the alley until the shadows swallowed him. He blended into darkness and soared to her balcony. Nothing was forbidden to him now.
He became whole again inside her room and smirked at the line of alarm clocks on her dresser. Was she worried that he would return to claim her, or did she only want to know if he had visited her?
Her moon amulet cast a ghostly light around the room as he knelt beside her. He listened to her soft, rhythmic breathing and sniffed the sweet perfume that lingered in the air around her. Her wrist was still in a cast, her cracked ribs healing, the bruises fading. Doctors who treated her thought she had taken a fall after being slipped some new designer drug at a party. She was recovering well.
Stanton touched her lightly. He was no longer an invitus. He had gone freely to the Atrox, but he had never lost his love for Serena. He had kept that feeling safe inside him.
He spoke into her dreams. I will have you.
She murmured against her pillow and her amulet shot a barrage of rainbows across the room.
“So you sense that I am a threat now.” He smiled wickedly. “I’m not, sweet one.” She would be so easy to take. The real danger had always been from him. And now he had marked her. No one else could harm her.
“Tu es dea, filia lunae,” he whispered.
He could wait. Her gift only lasted until she was seventeen. Then she would be his.
PROLOGUE
A scraping sound came from the kitchen below the little girl’s bedroom. She wondered if her parents were still cleaning up from dinner. She glanced at the clock on her nightstand. It was four in the morning. At this hour they should be in bed, deep in slumber.
Another, softer noise made her tense. It wasn’t the natural creak and pop she sometimes heard at night. Thump. The noise repeated. She sat up with a start. Someone was walking up the stairs. She threw back her covers, crept to her door, and peered into the hallway.
Her heart lurched. Two shadowy figures pressed against the w
all. She could scream for her parents, but caution told her to be still. Instead she slipped back across her bedroom to her open window, pushed out the screen, and crawled onto the thick branch of an elm tree. She had done this many times. She liked to sit there to think and write in her journal.
She had never clambered the length of the branch to her parents’ bedroom before, but it looked possible. She tugged at her nightgown and struggled to their window, then stretched her arms out to pull off their screen, but suddenly stopped.
The streetlamp cast a beam of light across their carpet. Why were they sleeping, sprawled together across the floor? She bit her tongue hard to keep the scream in her throat from coming out, then she blinked rapidly, not allowing herself tears. She needed her strength to find her sister, Jamie.
With new resolve she reached forward and tore off the screen. It fell to the ground below, landing silently in a bed of pink and red carnations.
She mounted the windowsill and pulled herself inside. She didn’t let her mind consider what made the carpets warm and wet beneath her bare feet as she crept forward. She crouched behind their door and looked out.
The two men were entering her room now. As soon as they did, she dashed on tiptoe across the hallway to where her sister slept. She rushed in and almost tripped over Jamie, lifeless and curled in a ball near the canopied bed.
Her knees were suddenly too weak to hold her, and she sank to the floor, realizing everyone in her family was dead. She knew that soon the men would be looking for her. She rose and started to hide in the closet, but something stopped her. Instinct told her the two men would find her there.
Quietly she raced across the hallway and down the stairs, stooping low against the banister. When she reached the landing, she heard the men behind her. She swung open the door as their footfalls pounded down the steps.
