by K. A. Tucker
“Well, there’s no reason we need to go to France. North America has enough cover for us,” Viggo muttered sullenly.
“You know why, and you agreed to go along without complaint, remember?” Sofie answered through clenched teeth. Viggo had that effect on her. A permanent effect.
“Yes, I recall. On penalty of death … And I warned you we’d be better off creating our own group of young followers than trusting her,” Viggo pressed.
Her? Who is he talking about? What are they conspiring over now? I looked at Caden but he shook his head. Not now, he was saying.
“We don’t have time to babysit a bunch of blood-crazed babies!” Sofie spat back. “This could spiral down in months! Weeks! Days! We have no idea what they’re planning …”
“That’s exactly how the mess in our world began,” Mage added in a low, steady voice. “One trigger, one attack, and our fate spiraled out of control. Are you trying to end this world faster, Viggo?”
Viggo sniffed but otherwise remained silent, moping. His words finally clicked in my mind. Young followers. Viggo’s strategy was to create an army of vampires to fight against the witches. Now I understood. I watched Viggo and Sofie share a silent look. Tension sat heavy in the air, as thick as smog. I didn’t know what was going on, why Viggo was here, why Sofie trusted him, why Viggo seemed compliant to Sofie. Viggo, compliant? And what was that “penalty of death” comment? Sofie was always threatening Viggo with death. What made him listen this time?
It seemed that Sofie had somehow appropriated the role of leader now, instead of ceaseless rival and combatant. I figured it had something to do with her continued control over Veronique’s situation, being the only one who could release her. But still, this was beyond bizarre … How long had I been unconscious for?
Amelie broke the pending conflict with her sweet, excited voice. “We had a city named Paris. It had the best shopping and nightlife and …” Her eyes twinkled with delight as she reminisced, her cheeks crinkling in a large smile. But then something dawned on her and her voice trailed off. “I guess they’d be the same Paris, right?”
Mage offered Amelie an apologetic smile and a slight nod. I had caught little bits of how the ancient Council leader had compelled them all to believe it was a different world by the name of Ratheus. It wasn’t, though. It was Earth in an alternate universe. Same Paris, same world, same doom.
And I would be an instrumental part of making it happen again. That fact burdened me like a concrete block on my shoulders in the bottom of a lake. All I wanted was Caden, my friends, and a life without the handcuffs of this curse. Was that too much to ask? I’d already lost so much. Part of my childhood, my mother …
A soft finger running along my bottom lip drew my attention to Caden. Beautiful, sweet, thoughtful Caden … I had him … Had I known what my choices could spark, would I have chosen differently? Would I have left him in Ratheus? Deep down in my heart, though I abhorred admitting it to myself and could never confess it to anyone else, the answer was no. And now my selfishness could lead to the demise of the world.
Mortimer’s booming voice yanked me from my silent torment. “We’re not going there to frolic about, Amelie.” The dark, brooding vampire had remained the silent observer in the entire exchange between his rival and his redheaded nemesis. In fact, he had remained in a corner, silent, for most of the flight.
Amelie scowled at Mortimer’s brusque reminder. She turned away from him, seemingly disgusted, to peer down at a dozing Julian. The scowl instantly disappeared, replaced by a grin of unabated adoration. A grin that slid into my heart like a long, thin needle.
So glad to be back with Mr. Chuckles, Max grumbled in my head, no doubt referring to his previous master. With a sigh, I smiled and leaned down to give the giant werebeast’s thick neck a squeeze. My guardian, my sanity, my friend, all in the form of an immortal canine who could communicate telepathically and hadn’t left my side in over a month, risking his safety for me countless times, saving me from death more than once. It was because of him that I had survived for this long. Max, Sofie, Julian, Leo … all of them had played a hand.
But not everyone had been so lucky …
With reluctance, I peered over to where Bishop sat huddled in a ball. I choked back a sob for the hundredth time. His angular cheekbone rested against the window as he stared out vacantly, a million miles away. Or at least a few thousand, back in Manhattan where his true love lay, charred in a heap of ash. He had watched Fiona burn, struck down by the witches, unable to do anything to stop it, and now he was lost. He hadn’t spoken a word since. He refused all offers of blood with nothing more than a growl. My heart ached every time I looked over at him, hoping this was all a mistake, hoping that I’d see Fiona’s violet eyes twinkling back at us. But I had seen those eyes firsthand, and they were no longer twinkling. She was never coming back.
We had lost Julian’s sister, Valentina, as well as my dear grandfatherly guardian Leo, in the mountains. Fiona in Manhattan … so many and the war hadn’t even begun. Who would be next?
The plane’s lights flashed and reflected off the bed of clouds as our plane cut through. “Fifteen more minutes,” Sofie whispered. I couldn’t help but sense trepidation in her voice. Weird. Sofie was normally so good at hiding her unease. Suddenly, Mage and Sofie vanished from their seats. They reappeared in Bishop’s corner opposite each other, Bishop sandwiched in the middle. Sofie loomed in front of him, Mage behind. Bishop’s cold charcoal eyes narrowed suspiciously as they raised to meet Sofie’s. She met his look with one of intense determination and I saw recognition flitter on his face, his expression and posture changing to that of a caged animal, ready to spring. Wild eyes darted around the cabin as if searching for an escape route.
“What’s going on?” I whispered to Caden, gripping his muscular forearm tightly. Too tightly probably but, then again, I couldn’t hurt him.
Caden pulled me closer until my back was pressed up against his chest, but he said nothing. Amelie mimicked the protective position with Julian, now conscious and sitting up wide-eyed and confused.
Sofie’s lips began moving subtly, inaudibly. Her hands rose, her fingertips spread apart. A deep growl of protest escaped Bishop’s sullen mouth. Mage instantly pounced on him, one delicate arm wrapped around his neck in a headlock while the other pushed down on his shoulder. Bishop fought back, his tall lean body thrashing from side to side, attempting to twist out of Mage’s grasp. Her knuckles whitened as her fingers dug into his collarbone.
And then Bishop stopped moving. Mage backed away, freeing him to run. He didn’t. He was stationary. Not a twitch of a finger, not a shift of a foot. Nothing but his pupils rolling over the cabin.
Instantly, I knew what had happened. “A spell,” Caden whispered, echoing my bewildered thoughts.
“But … why? I don’t understand. He’s not going to hurt us!” I said.
With strong, forceful hands, Caden gripped my arms and turned me around to face him. He gently caressed my cheekbone with a single finger. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he answered softly. A shiver ran down my spine. “Bishop has only one thing on his mind, Evangeline … revenge. He’s been eyeing that emergency exit since Sofie announced we weren’t going back to New York.”
I frowned, shaking my head. I hadn’t noticed. But … that didn’t make sense. “He could have done a swan dive from thirty-thousand feet and survived, so why wait?” I argued.
“You. You stopped him.”
My face pinched, my confusion deepening.
“If he broke the seal of the door up here, we would lose cabin pressure and the plane would crash. You wouldn’t survive. He knows that,” Caden explained, squeezing my shoulders. “But I’m sure he was planning on bolting the second he thought it was safe enough.”
“And we can’t have him doing that,” Sofie interrupted, taking her place beside me once again. She smiled sympathetically. “We don’t know what is waiting for us in Manhattan. There’s an army of witches th
ere, armed with Merth. The last thing we need is Bishop starting a one-man war with them on the streets of New York. He’d get himself killed.”
Bishop, dead? No … But this? I looked over at him, our broken friend, sitting upright, his hands folded on his lap, as if his body were bound by cords of rope. Invisible magic rope. Wasn’t there another option?
“I know you don’t like it. I don’t like doing it, either,” Sofie went on as if reading my mind, which I’m sure she likely was doing. She offered a reassuring pat on my knee.
I looked over at Bishop again and sucked in a deep breath as his eyes fixed on me, raw pain screaming, begging for relief. Begging for freedom from his internal agony as we sat here, plotting … “How long does he have to stay like that?” I asked in a pained voice, feeling like a wolverine had taken up residence inside me and was tearing apart my insides.
Sofie’s brow furrowed deeply as she squeezed my knee again. “Until I figure out something better. It doesn’t hurt, I promise. The spell works like a live current. If I break it to cast another powerful spell, or because I’m injured, which happens frequently,” she gave Viggo a sidelong glare, “the binding will fall apart. It’s not ideal.” Like the spell Ursula had used on Max and his brothers, back in the mountains. Julian attacked her—his sister, possessed by a vengeful witch—with antlers in order to break the binding and save us.
With one last forlorn look at Bishop, I took a deep breath, forcing myself to be practical. Sofie was only doing what was best for Bishop and for the rest of the world. She was right. We needed to protect him from himself.
Another stabbing pain jetted through my eardrum, signaling further descent. “You haven’t told me where we’re going yet, Sofie.”
Her smile was both sad and contented. “Home.”
***
“This is home?” I asked as we passed through a set of swirly iron gates, anchored in a solid-looking, ten-foot brick wall. All nine of us, plus Max, were crammed into a giant black SUV limousine resembling a tank. Sofie didn’t acknowledge me, her focus fixed elsewhere, a bittersweet gleam glean in her eyes. She was miles away. Years ago, in a former life.
I peered out the window as our vehicle snaked along the winding road, taking in acres of rolling snow-blanketed hills, speckled with stately trees, illuminated by the half-moon that cast a spotlight over the silent, sleeping night. Ahead and to our right was a clearing of pristine snow, a large dip at its center. A frozen pond, perhaps. For some reason, I imagined a tiny redheaded girl splashing around in it during the summer, smiling, happy, free.
“Look up there,” Caden whispered, pulling me closer to him. I leaned over until his cheek was only inches from mine. He hadn’t let go of me since the moment we stepped off the plane, as if determined to be physically attached to me at all times, something I was more than willing to permit.
I followed his pointed finger to a mesmerizing sea of white lights lining the road. Hundreds of thousands of twinkling lights, coiled like snakes around naked tree branches. “Christmas lights,” I whispered breathlessly. It was almost Christmas, an event I had completely forgotten about given the circumstances. As we got closer, the trees convened above the drive, creating a spectacular half-mile-long tunnel of glittering lights. I gazed up in awe, speechless.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” Sofie murmured. “I have someone put up lights every year, even though I don’t come here anymore …”
“Pretty doesn’t cut it.”
“We should have known you’d kept this place,” Mortimer grumbled, though with a touch of admiration in his voice. “You buried your trail well. Even I couldn’t find your fingerprints when I looked into it.”
Sofie answered with a smile. “And aren’t you happy I did? It’s been so long since …” Her voice drifted off for a moment. Since what? “No one will link it with us. At least not in the immediate future.”
I inhaled another sharp breath as our vehicle crested over a small hill to reveal an enormous stone-covered castle with three stories of windows and a dozen chimneys. Spiraling turrets jutted out of the steep roofs, interspersed with evenly spaced oval dormers. The place oozed of history—hundreds of years of it—and yet was pristinely maintained as if only recently built.
“Did you grow up here, Sofie?” I asked, a mixture of awe and excitement that I may finally be sneaking a glimpse of Sofie’s human past.
She shook her head. “No, but I did spend an awful lot of time here at one point in my life.” Again, that forlorn tone that Sofie normally hid so well glinted through in her words.
The circular drive wrapped around a fountain and sleeping garden. With the wheels coming to a squeaking stop, Caden cracked open the door. Crisp winter air swirled in, enveloping me. I shivered.
Finally! Max’s massive body shoved us out of the way as he leapt out of the truck with the agility of a house cat instead of a three-hundred-pound werebeast. He stretched his long legs before prancing toward the front door.
I followed him out of the truck, my leather boots—another swap from Amelie—landing softly in the freshly fallen snow. Sofie was already out and gazing up at one of the windows, a nostalgic smile on her plump, always-red lips. “How long has it been since you’ve been back here?” I asked, my arms hugging my ill-dressed body against the cold.
“Too long,” was all she said, so softly, and then I watched her walk toward the grand carved mahogany doors.
Fingers cupped my elbow. “Come on, let’s get inside.” Caden pulled me snug against his broad chest. “Your temperature’s dropping.” As usual, Caden was ever in tune with my body. I felt my cheeks redden, even in the wintry cold.
I’m not sure what I’d expected, entering this uninhabited estate. Not comfortable, Sofie had said. She’d made it sound like no one had stepped into it in a hundred years. Perhaps cavernous, vacant rooms with dust lingering in the air and white sheets cloaking antique, scratchy armchairs. Maybe a mouse or two scurrying past, unimpressed with our invasion. But stepping into the foyer was like being transported into a glamorous old world—one of warmth and comfort and elegance. Of Sofie.
“I wouldn’t let this place fall apart,” Sofie mused without prompting, her sharp heels echoing through the entrance as she stepped across the mosaic-patterned tile of cream and white marble. “I called ahead to ensure it was ready.”
A grand staircase stretched out directly ahead of us, lined with burgundy and gold-trimmed carpet, illuminated by a gigantic chandelier, complete with tiers and crystals. Halfway up, the staircase split off in two different directions. It would easily hold my entire high school graduation class on it. I’d never seen anything so large in my life, outside of movies. I watched the stairs expectedly, waiting for a princess to make a grand entrance, complete with tiara and ball gown. Two identical hallways reached out endlessly from my left and my right, each dimly lit with wall sconces and adorned with molding and artwork as far as the eye could see.
Viggo and the others stepped in behind us, stomping snow off their boots. Mortimer carried an immobile Bishop over one shoulder. He dropped him to the ground, propping him up against a wall. Amelie stalked in barefoot, Julian’s arm hanging over her shoulder for support. “Nice,” they said in unison. Julian’s mouth stretched into a wide grin and Amelie erupted in giggles.
I feel like I’m watching a teen B-movie, Max muttered, not impressed with their adolescent love-struck silliness.
“Allo?” Sofie called out expectedly. “Allo!”
I heard shuffling from the right hall and turned to see four women and two men appear in a processional, rambling in their native French. The staff, based on their formal matching black-and-white uniforms.
“Bonjour,” Sofie greeted graciously. Hello, that much I understood. Then she rattled off a slew of sentences in that beautiful Parisian French dialect. I couldn’t understand a word, but I didn’t mind. Between the mountain yetis’ muttering and the Tribe’s guttural grunts and groans, I was used to not understanding anything. I’d take Sofie�
��s French any day.
Satisfied with whatever they’d discussed, Sofie clapped her hands together. “Bon!” She turned back to us, gesturing to the portly middle-aged lady to my right. “Gabriella here is the head of the house. She will help you with anything you need. Evangeline, your room has been prepared. It’s upstairs, the seventh door on the left. Your room adjoins with mine. You’ve suffered quite an ordeal. Make sure you get lots of rest.” Her cool eyes darted to Caden and then back to me. I nodded, my cheeks flushing, knowing what she was implying. Part of me bloomed with warmth over her maternal tendencies. No one had shown concern for me since my own mother died five years earlier. The other part bristled with annoyance. Seriously? I’m eighteen, I haven’t seen Caden in a month, and the end of the world is coming!
“Sofie,” Mage called out, her focus drifting to the staff. “Perhaps it would be a good idea to check for double agents?” Double agents. The People’s Sentinel with their markings hidden instead of brazenly displayed on the inside of their thumbs …
My breath caught. Julian.
Sofie frowned. “There’s no way … they don’t know about this place.” She dismissed Mage’s insinuation.
Yes, thank you, Sofie.
But then an acknowledging look passed over Sofie’s face. “You know what? You’re right. No chances.”
A bolt of panic shot up my spine. If they decided to check everyone … They might. If they’re being that cautious over the staff, why not with the rest of us? Trying not to move my head, my eyes strained to the left to catch Julian’s face. He was still pale from his injury; however, I was sure his face had paled a shade or two more. Damn these vampires and their suspicious nature!
I took a few calming breaths as Sofie began naming off potential threats, using her fingers to count, trying to calm myself before my emotions gave Julian’s secret away. “So we should check these six … the two in the kitchen …” Not Julian. Please! “… the one groundskeeper …” Please don’t …
