by Ilana Waters
“Snow White,” Titus corrected, still not taking his eyes off her.
“What?”
“Sleeping Beauty was the one in the tower,” he said. “Snow White was asleep on a pedestal—technically, in a glass coffin.”
“Unbelievable.” I closed my eyes and shook my head. My father was quoting fairy tales to me. “I don’t even want to know how you know that,” I said. “Look, the point is, she’s the damsel in distress from every story by the Brothers Grimm, and we have got to get down there.”
“Agreed,” said Titus.
“But how?” asked Arthur. “She’s at least fifteen yards away, and there’s quite a drop below us.” We all looked down to where the bones of more mortal victims were strewn about the cave.
“We can fly,” Titus said, looking at Arthur, but motioning to himself and me. “As far as I can see, you’re the only one with a problem. You can stay here.”
“Father, please,” I said. Then I held my hand, palm down, over the floor of the cave, which began to rise in a long, thin line towards the pedestal. The bones we’d seen fell away as the ground rose higher, higher, and soon became a bridge from our ledge to where my mother lay.
“See? Problem solved,” I said to Titus, indicating he should lead the way. He pursed his lips and walked ahead, while Arthur followed. I brought up the rear, shaking my throbbing hand. Earth sorcery seemed even harder in caves. Although it was incredible how much magic was down here, it didn’t want to move. I imagined it was because caves evolved slowly; they hated to be rushed. Dirt is so much more malleable than rock, I thought as I rubbed my aching fingers.
We were soon at my mother’s side, and I scarcely dared to breathe.
“I knew it,” I whispered. “I just knew she was in Rome all along.”
“Good on you, Joshua,” Arthur said, giving my arm a thump. “You really did it.”
“Yes, wonderful. We’ve found her,” Titus said in a tight voice, his eyes scanning Abigail. “But that’s only the first part. If I’m not mistaken, this isn’t an ordinary nap she’s having. She appears to be under some kind of sleeping curse.”
“A sleeping curse?” said Arthur. “What’s that—some kind of magical coma?”
“You’re the high and mighty PIA member,” said Titus. “Why don’t you tell us?”
“Father, please—you can’t expect the PIA to know everything,” I said. “It might be something similar to what the witches did to Ferox. If that’s what they did.”
“But how would vampires put a curse on someone?” asked Arthur.
“I’ve no idea,” replied Titus. “As far as I know, that’s not a power they have. But I suggest we try and wake her up, and quickly. Abigail. Abigail!” Titus yelled, shaking my mother by the shoulders.
We called Abigail’s name countless times, shook her, and despite my protests, Titus even slapped her. But nothing we did made any difference.
“It’s useless. What are we going to do?” I buried my face in my hands.
“In the fairy tales,” Arthur said, “true love’s kiss always wakes the princess.” Titus gave him a look of death. But I was willing to try anything.
“Look, can you just kiss her?” I pleaded with Titus. “It’s worth a shot, at least.”
“What have you got to lose?” Arthur asked quietly.
Titus looked from me to Arthur and back again. Finally, he sighed and knelt down beside the pedestal, placing his hands on either side of Abigail’s face. Then he leaned over my mother, and—more tenderly than I would have thought possible—pressed his lips to hers.
We all held our breath, and Titus’s eyes searched Abigail’s face for any sign of life. But there was nothing. Arthur and I looked at the ground, and I squeezed my own eyes shut. We came all this way, and my mother was so close, yet somehow we were unable to reach her.
“All right, then.” Titus stood up, turned to us, and gave his lapels a sharp tug. “Plan B. We carry her back and see if there’s something we can do to—”
We heard choking sounds from the pedestal, and Titus whirled around. Abigail was sitting up partway, coughing into her hand. I swear, I never heard anything so beautiful in my entire life.
“Mom!” I cried. I collapsed next to Abigail and wrapped my arms around her, burying my face in her hair just the way I’d longed to.
“Joshua?” she croaked, sitting up all the way now. She took my face in her hands and gazed at me. “But you’re all grown up,” she murmured.
“Well, you’ve been asleep for almost twenty years,” I said, unable to stop smiling.
Her eyes widened. “I have?” She put her hand to the side of her head, gaping at the cavern with her mouth wide open. “What year is it? Where am I?” Before Titus or I could answer, she looked me up and down.
“What on earth are you wearing?”
“What? This is how people dress nowadays,” I said.
My mother pursed her lips. “I know that. Men’s fashion hasn’t changed that much while I’ve been out. But you look so . . . wrinkled. And dirty. Is that blood on your shirt? Bring that light closer!” she commanded, and the magic orb drifted to her side as she squinted at me. “Oh my God—your face!” she cried. “It’s all bruised!” She stroked the side of it, and I winced. “And what’s this cut below your eye?”
“I’m sorry, Mother,” I said, pulling her hands down gently. “I didn’t have time to shower and shave before coming to rescue you.” Honestly, I half-expected her to lick her thumb and start wiping my cheek with it. “But do you need anything? Are you hungry? Thirsty?”
“A little, I guess,” she admitted.
“We can take care of all that later,” Titus interjected.
Abigail looked up. “Titus?”
My father cleared his throat. “Hello, Abigail. You look well.” For once, he was smiling agreeably.
“Thank you,” Abigail replied. “And you look . . . exactly the same, from what I can remember.”
“What was the last thing you remember?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “I was packing up for the day, you were in your room, and then . . . then they came through the window. They were yelling, demanding I answer all kinds of questions about my crystal. But I wouldn’t answer, of course. After that, everything’s a blank.”
“Did they torture you?” I asked, trying to keep my voice from trembling.
She rubbed her temples. “I . . . I don’t remember.” But for the first time, I noticed scars along her hands and forearms—defensive wounds, police call them. She never had scars there before, so they must have been from the kidnapping.
By God, I’m not only going to kill those monsters, I’m going to make sure it hurts.
I gave Abigail the extremely short version of everything that happened until that point, including our search for her that lasted almost two decades. She shook her head in disbelief as I finished.
“I can’t believe I’m in Rome.” she said. “And you!” She looked at me. “You took on the High Council, infiltrated the PIA . . .”
“Ahem.” I heard a cough behind me, and turned to see Arthur give a little wave.
“Oh, right!” I put several fingers to my forehead. In all the excitement over Abigail waking up, I’d completely forgotten Arthur was there. “Speaking of the PIA,” I said, “allow me to introduce you to Arthur Hartwood, manager of the London branch.” The two stared at each other for a moment.
“Arthur Hartwood . . .” Abigail said slowly. “That’s the one you threw in jail, right Joshua?”
“Well, I didn’t exactly throw him—”
“That’s me,” interrupted Arthur, putting down his satchel and crossbow long enough to shake Abigail’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
“Ah, Abigail Silver,” she replied. “And likewise. You can forget about all that ‘ma’am’ stuff—just call me Abigail. But why are we all hanging around here?” she asked. “And why was Tit
us kissing me?”
“It did happen occasionally, if you recall,” Titus said dryly. Abigail frowned at him.
“We thought it would help wake you up from your sleeping curse,” Arthur explained. “Like with princesses in storybooks. And as you can see, it did the trick!”
Abigail frowned again. “I don’t think so. It was probably just a coincidence.”
“I assumed as much,” Titus said quickly. “Wait—what do you mean, a coincidence?”
“Well,” explained Abigail, “if you control a sleeping curse, as the vampires here likely do, you can remove it whenever you want. I don’t think kissing has anything to do with it, unless the vampires planned it that way. Unlikely, though.”
“But why would they remove it now?” I asked. “They still need the crystal, or at least want it, and they haven’t gotten it yet.”
“I don’t know,” started Abigail. Before she could say anything more, we heard the grating sound of stone on stone. We all turned and saw the boulder moving back across the entrance. From the opposite end of the cave, we heard snickers echoing.
“I do,” said Titus grimly. “Because they wanted to set a trap.”
Chapter 22
My stomach felt like it had dropped to the floor. Arthur instantly readied his crossbow. My mother rose from the pedestal and stood up, and we all faced what looked to be about ten or so vampires standing across from us. They’d come in from a doorway at the other end of the cave—one we hadn’t even noticed was there. Likely all of us were too preoccupied with finding and waking my mother.
“It appears we’re no longer the only immortals in Rome,” Titus remarked, his mouth set in a line.
“You got that right, old man!” one of the vampires scoffed, and the others joined in. He was leaning one hand against the wall, his ankles crossed in front of him. He wore torn black jeans, a black T-shirt, and a studded belt buckle. I got the feeling he was the group’s leader, unless of course that leader was actually Callix Ferox.
Most of the other vampires were similarly dressed, with mortal ages that varied from early twenties to mid-forties. But you could tell more about their real ages by the hairstyles—especially the sideburns on the men. These weren’t the ridiculous sideburns of the 1970s, but earlier, from the nineteenth century. Normally, I couldn’t have cared less how vampires wore their hair. But in this case, it meant they were much older than that vampire in the alley, and hence, more powerful. There were a few more males than females. All had blocks on their minds, damn them.
“I was really hoping we’d finished off the last of them,” I whispered to Titus. “The vampires who were looking for the crystal, I mean.”
“It would appear not.” My father’s voice deepened in that familiar way I knew signaled annoyance. But there was something more behind it this time, a quality I didn’t recognize. Could it be . . . fear?
“No need to whisper; we can all hear you just fine.” The lead vampire smiled and waved. He walked along the cave’s perimeter, running a finger against the stone wall. “Glad you’re all finally here, in fact. Can’t believe this is the old enemy of our dear Callix.” He looked Titus up and down. “I always thought you’d be taller,” he said.
“I’m sure I’ll look taller when I’m standing over your dead body,” my father replied.
Abigail tugged at his jacket sleeve. “Titus, please!” The lead vampire and the others just laughed.
“I don’t think that’s on the program for tonight, Aurelius,” the leader said, shaking his head. Then he fixed his eyes on me. “But we are quite delighted to meet your son. Isn’t that right, everyone?” There were several responses of “Oh, yes!” and “To be sure,” that I had a feeling were sarcastic. “So this is what a mage looks like, eh? Can’t say I’m all that impressed.”
“Well, we’ve only just met, haven’t we?” I said. “You’ve hardly seen me at my best.” I flexed my fingers, the air around them crackling with magic, which I made sure the vampires saw.
“Whoa there!” The leader held up his hands. “I only meant I thought you’d look different. You know—have a tail or horns or something.”
I furrowed my brow. “Excuse me?”
“I mean, how else could a vampire sire a child, unless he made some pact with the devil?” The leader grinned at me.
“You’re the only devils here that I can see,” Arthur spoke up, adjusting his crossbow.
Now the group was well and truly laughing, with the lead vampire practically doubled over. “Strong words from someone about to become a snack,” he said. “And an old, wrinkled snack at that.”
“He does look like a raisin, doesn’t he?” one of the females said, running her fingers through her long hair. “Perhaps we should keep him. We need someone to tidy up around here.”
“It is looking a bit messy, isn’t it?” The leader glanced around at the piles of bones strewn everywhere.
“You may kill me, but you’ll never enslave me,” Arthur vowed.
“Why not?” the leader asked. “We managed to kidnap what’s-her-name and make her sleep for decades, didn’t we?”
“My name is Abigail,” said my mother, stepping forward. My father put his hand on her arm, as if to stay her.
“And I am Tarik,” the leader said. He bent forward slightly, put his arm across his waist, and tipped an imaginary hat. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Lovely to meet you as well, Tarik,” I said. “Tell me, is there a burning, fiery hell around here I can send you to? Preferably quickly?”
“All in good time, my friend,” he replied, still smiling. I recalled what Titus and I had done to the vampire in the alley who wouldn’t stop smirking, and hoped we’d get the chance to do it again.
“I wouldn’t be so cocky if I were you,” Titus said. “Just because you managed to work one spell doesn’t mean you’re a match for us.”
“Yes, how did you do that?” I asked. Maybe I could stall for time while Titus or I thought of a plan.
Tarik shrugged. “It was easy. I’m surprised a superpowerful mage like you doesn’t know.” Again, more snickers. Will these blasted vampires never stop laughing? “It was simply a smaller version of the curse used to subdue our master.”
“And where would vampires of your . . . distinction acquire such a spell?” Titus asked.
Tarik grinned at my father. “Oh, there was a witch or two. There are always witches willing to turn on each other if the price is right.”
“Then there should be a special place in hell for them as well,” muttered Abigail.
“Yes, and for that price,” continued Tarik, “they threw in a cloaking spell so no one could find her. Not to mention removing the protections she had on the house so we could extract her in the first place.”
“Who did this?” I demanded. “Who helped you kidnap my mother?” I took a step forward, but Titus caught me by the shoulder.
“What difference does it make to you?” asked Tarik.
“They’re dead anyway,” another of the female vampires said, and waved her hand. “You don’t really think we’d let them live, do you? Not when they could give away all our secrets.”
“Yes—I thought you’d be smarter than that,” Tarik said to me. “You disappoint me, mage.” He walked down the other end of the cave, still trailing his finger along the side. Now his nail was making a horrid screeching sound. My parents and I winced, and Arthur covered his ears.
“My name is Joshua, you sadistic malcontent,” I said.
“As you wish,” he shrugged, letting his finger drop. “Your name is of little consequence. Though I can see you’re just as stubborn and irritating as your mother. She wouldn’t tell us where our crystal was—”
“Your crystal?” interrupted Arthur.
“—but we thought, surely if she won’t cooperate with us, she’ll be more than happy to do so for our master. Callix could be very . . . persuasive in his day.” Tarik stopped walking lo
ng enough to glance at all of us and grin again. “Unfortunately, we don’t know exactly when he will arise, so we had to hold onto her for safekeeping. I’m sure you understand. However, now that we have her husband and son here, perhaps she’ll be in a more talkative mood.”
“You touch one hair on their heads, and I’ll fry you where you stand, you little bastards!” Abigail shouted.
“Yes, about Joshua and me.” Titus stepped forward, almost in front of Abigail. “You don’t seem particularly put out that we’ve discovered your little hiding spot.”
“Ah, but as a military strategist, you should appreciate this.” Tarik waggled his finger. “When we saw you enter, we knew the jig was up. But I also saw how this could be used to our advantage. Surely if Ms. Abigail here has no knowledge of the crystal—which I doubt—then you two must.”
“Why do you want the crystal anyway?” Arthur asked, lowering his crossbow a bit. I knew it was heavy, and that he must be tiring. Still, I wasn’t sure that was the wisest move; these vampires could attack at any moment.
“Well, that’s rather our business, isn’t it?” Tarik stretched his arms and clasped his hands behind his head. Clearly, he was enjoying this little encounter.
“Your friend we killed in the alley seemed all too willing to impart the information,” remarked Titus.
“Friend?” Another vampire—male—furrowed his brow. “Oh—you mean Cedric,” he realized. “Yes, we heard about that. What an ass!” The rest of the vampires murmured their assent.
“Guess they weren’t as friendly with Cedric as we thought,” I whispered to Titus.
My father was stone-faced as he continued addressing the group. “Cedric thought the crystal would allow him to complete some task in relation to Ferox. He seemed convinced it made no difference in resurrecting him, so it must be something else.”
Tarik put his thumbs in his belt loops. “Cedric believed a lot of things,” he said. “For instance, he also believed he was the last of us. But there were a few—the wiser ones—who lay in wait while those more reckless and inexperienced let themselves get killed. And like I said, the crystal’s relationship to us—to Ferox—is our business, not yours.”
