by K. A. Tucker
That’s when he finally admitted to killing Lilly’s mother, who was also the original vampire. Apparently she betrayed him, though my instincts told me there was another, more plausible side to that story. As if that weren’t enough to earn Lilly’s wrath, he stole the body, burned it, and hid the ashes away where Lilly could never find them. For what? Only the Fates knew …
“We will give Lilly a day or two to come to her senses, and then I will hunt her down if I must,” Mage answered calmly.
I sighed, as glad as ever to have Mage in my corner. “And while that’s happening, I’ll be busy trying to fix Evangeline and Julian. And Bishop.” Or I’ll die, trying …
7. Torture All Around—Evangeline
I trailed Ivan as he led me down the hall to a main floor bathroom. Without warning or asking permission, he slid his hands under my armpits and hoisted me onto the counter as if I were a child. I sat quietly, putting pressure on my wound as instructed, and watched him rifle through the cabinets below until he pulled out a sizeable rectangular white box with a red cross on the front. A first-aid kit—a strange thing to find in a palace of vampires, though perhaps not so strange with the ever-prepared Sofie.
Ivan unraveled the bindings around my arm in silence. Part of me wanted to keep the wound hidden, afraid of what I might see. The bleeding had stopped, thankfully. He tossed the soaked towels into the sink with one hand and reached for a giant syringe with the other. He gestured to my arm. Grimacing, I nodded my assent but had to turn away and grit my teeth against the sting as he pricked my arm in several places. Within minutes, my arm was completely numb.
Ivan continued rummaging through the box, pulling out various things—thread, gauze, ointments. He went to work, cleaning my wound and the skin around it with an antiseptic and cotton pads. With the blood cleaned up, it didn’t look as horrific. Still, the gash had to be a good four inches long, stretching from just below my elbow joint to halfway down my forearm.
I watched with fascination as my werewolf-nursemaid threaded a needle through my skin with the grace and delicacy of a plastic surgeon. In the eighteen years before I met Sofie, I hadn’t had one stitch. Since meeting her, my hand had been cut open, my neck punctured—twice—and now my forearm mangled.
“I’m going to look like Frankenstein’s monster by the time this is done,” I muttered to myself as I studied the long, thin pinkish scar across my palm.
Ivan looked up, his golden irises revealing nothing about whether he understood me, whether he even knew who Frankenstein was. “Scars build character. They make you human.”
He speaks English! I smiled, both at his gentleness and at his attempt to console me. “Well, that’s good. I thought they just made me ugly.”
One corner of his mouth twitched into a crooked smile as he went back to work on my arm. Within minutes, twenty precise, neat stitches closed up the gash Lilly had so stealthily granted me.
“Thanks … Ivan,”
He grunted, thrusting a small white pill and a glass into my hands. “For the pain.”
I accepted it with a nod, tossing it back and chasing it with the water. “So all this blood doesn’t bother you?”
He shook his head. “I can’t smell it.”
“At all? I thought werewolves would have a keen sense of smell.”
“We do. We can’t smell your blood. We can’t smell you. It’s like you aren’t here anymore.”
My heart skipped a beat as I processed his words. “What do you mean, anymore?”
Ivan shrugged noncommittally as he packed up the medical supplies. “In Siberia, you were normal. Now you’re not.”
This must be another symptom. “You mean, like, the Tribe? Do they also not exist?”
Another shrug. “I have not met this Tribe so I cannot tell you.” His hands moved rapidly and I realized he was rushing to get away from this conversation. I wanted to know more.
“What else…?,” I asked, but my voice drifted as Ivan shoved his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out a plain white envelope, thick and stiff with its contents. He thrust it forward.
With a curious frown, I gingerly took it. Inside was a stack of four-by-six photographs—the ones of my time on Ratheus. The ones that brought me a balance of both sanity and insanity while in the mountains. The last I remembered, they were in my nightstand …
“Thank you,” I whispered, swallowing the lump in my throat, as I flipped through them, wistful longing pulling at my heart. I landed on a picture of Fiona and Bishop, sitting on a bench, Fiona’s beautiful violet eyes playfully taunting the camera. Full of life and love, and friendship. I traced her face with my finger, memorized Bishop’s smile beside her. I’ll never see either of those smiles again.
“Ivan?” I asked as he hastily bagged the bloody rags and gauze in a garbage bag. “What happened to all the others? In the mountains? When Ursula attacked and Leo sent us away, there was still staff there. Magda … Maria …”
“They are in Russia. Safe.”
A disturbing thought entered my head. “You know they’re all … who they’re supposed to be?”
His brow furrowed as if not understanding.
“I mean ... you heard about Ursula, right? You know about that witch who possessed Valentina? Did she die? Permanently?”
Ivan’s grim face cracked a smile as he chuckled. “Yes. She is not coming back. We’ve made sure of it.”
I hesitated, wondering what made sure of it meant but decided I didn’t need to know. “And Leo?” I asked, my eyes suddenly stinging with tears. “Were you able to bury him?”
He shook his head.
Sadness cloaked me. “But… you didn’t just leave him there, did you?”
Again, a shake of his head. “Follow me.”
I trailed him down the hall, an inkling of worry growing to full-on dread by the time Ivan stopped in front of a solid wood door. Was I going to find Leo’s corpse on the other side?
Pushing open the door to allow me to pass, I stepped into a lady’s parlor, decorated with tasteful floral wallpaper, crown molding, and matching pastel chairs. A cream-colored wall-to-wall bookcase filled one wall. I half expected to see a circle of prim ladies with big hats and china teacups, crocheting handkerchiefs.
Ivan raised a rough hand to a simple silver-plated urn sitting on a shelf. “Sofie will bury him with his family.”
His family. Maeve. A slow smile touched my lips as tears rained down my cheeks, a strange feeling of closure cleansing the pain of my sudden and tragic parting with Leo. Thankfully, Ivan took that as his sign to exit. He quietly slinked out, leaving me to cry alone.
It didn’t last long, though. “I’m going to take him to Ireland, when this is all over,” Sofie said, suddenly behind me, her arm draped over my shoulder. “That’s what he wanted.” With her free hand, she lifted my injured arm to inspect the stitching. “Those wolves of mine are obedient, aren’t they?”
“They can’t sense me. It’s like I don’t exist. Ivan told me.”
“Did he now …” By her clenched teeth and her calm, even tone, I could tell Sofie wasn’t surprised by this news but wasn’t impressed that I knew.
“You knew?” I cried out, my words thick with accusation.
She heaved a sigh of exasperation but then nodded. “I didn’t want you to worry more about this Tribe magic than you already are, so I asked them not to say anything. I guess maybe they’re not so obedient after all. Does your arm hurt?”
She was trying to distract me. I shrugged. The freezing was still working, but I sensed the first signs of discomfort waiting in the shadows. There was no point telling Sofie that unless I wanted to heighten her anxiety, which I didn’t. Besides, whatever that little white painkiller was, it had to kick in soon. I scanned the empty room. “Where are the others?”
“Amelie is taking a walk with Julian. Max is out hunting with his brothers.” Sofie bit her bottom lip in worried thought. “And Caden is with Bishop.”
Bishop. “When are you going
to release him from the Merth?”
Sofie hesitated. “I don’t know yet, Evangeline. I can’t say what Lilly and the others are going to do, when they’re going to come back. I need to be ready.”
“So … what? We’re going to leave him bound like that forever? Sofie! We can’t do that! You have to do something! You’ve got to find a way to … bring this guy back,” I pushed, waving the picture of a smiling Bishop in front of her face. “Come on! You’re Sofie! You’ve got the Fates’ ears. You can solve anything!”
“Thanks for the pep talk,” Sofie said with a wry smile. But then she sighed and with it, raw pain shone through. “I’m working on it, darling.” She placed her hand over mine. “I did have an idea but … we’ll see if I can pull it off. I’ve got that to worry about, you to worry about …” For the first time, I noticed the dark circles under her eyes. She looked exhausted.
“You don’t have to worry about me, Sofie. I’m safe here.” Except that the love of my life came close to losing control again; I’m linked with your sister who’s out of her tomb and being tortured; I have a toxic magic flowing through me that is turning me into a nocturnal yellow-eyed demon; Julian is a secret Sentinel, and for some reason, a child vampire enjoys maiming me ... safe as a baby in a cradle.
Sofie let out a loud guffaw. “Safe? Are you nuts? In a blink of an eye, before any of us could stop her, Lilly cut you open! With Caden holding you, and all of us around, she got to you. And worse! I can’t heal you, Evangeline. I can’t do anything! I’m useless where you are concerned, and it’s driving me crazy!” Her fingers rifled through her mane of red hair, leaving it in disarray. “Safe, mon dieu!” she muttered to herself, rolling her eyes.
I studied my newest stitch work, Ivan’s words jumping out at me. “At least I’ll have character,” I repeated, earning the flattest look I’ve ever seen on Sofie’s face. I gave her a sheepish grin. “So, what are you going to do about Lilly?”
She shrugged. “Nothing. Now, we wait. Let them stew on what we’ve shown them. Lilly’s a lot of things, but stupid is not one of them. If nothing else, she’ll be curious enough to come back. She’ll come to her senses and it sounds like, when she does, she’ll have plenty to tell us.”
“She’s not going to pledge her allegiance to you, Sofie. You realize that, don’t you?”
“It’s the only way I can trust her. Lilly’s dangerous, Evangeline. Extremely dangerous. More so than Viggo in some ways. She’s trapped in a child’s body and mind—she’s reckless and stubborn; she lacks long-term vision. But she has the power and speed of an ancient vampire. From what I understand, she’s about twelve or thirteen hundred years old. Her size is her advantage. She’s so small, she’s hard to catch. And she’s sharp as a tack in ways that surprise even me. She sees things as a child that many of us don’t detect as adults.”
I stifled a yawn, exhaustion suddenly weighing me down. Must be all the blood loss … “What do you think she’ll do?”
“That’s not for you to worry about, Eve.” Sofie voice grew distant and my legs began to wobble. A hand gripped my good forearm as I stumbled and she led me toward the door. “You need your rest now. It’s been a busy day.”
“I’m not,” I fought to get out but an enormous yawn cut in. This couldn’t be blood loss. Why was I suddenly so tired? The white pill! “Sofie, Ivan gave me a sleeping pill …” My words were becoming garbled, blending into each other. Things began to sway and shift and blur.
“So they do listen to me sometimes …” she said, and I could hear the smile in her words. Great, Sofie can’t use magic so she’s drugging me now … “Can you take Evangeline up to her room? I don’t think she’s going to make it on her own,” Sofie said to someone. I have no idea who. And then my body felt like it was folding into itself as utter relaxation took over.
I cracked open my eyes and instantly raced to squeeze them shut, to secure them against the blinding light shining over me. Still, the light burned, penetrating the thin shroud of my eyelid, threatening to roast my corneas. I rolled my head to the side to fight against it and crippling pain shot along the back of my neck, triggering a domino effect of agony. From head to toe, every inch of my body throbbed, every nerve felt like it had been tested. What the hell had happened? The last I remembered, I was with Sofie in that room, talking about Lilly … Then I realized she drugged me … and I must’ve fallen asleep.
That’s when it hit me. I wasn’t there anymore. I was with Veronique.
A loud clunk sounded and the burning light disappeared. Relief. With great effort, I rolled my head back and lifted an eyelid to see the culprit—a giant fluorescent bulb hovering a foot above my head. My fingers slid along the surface beneath me. Based on the cool, smooth feel, I was on a metal surface. Perhaps a table of sorts.
“Veronique?” I whispered and then coughed, the word scraping against my dehydrated throat. I had never been so thirsty in my entire life.
“Yes?” she croaked. A gasp followed. A gasp for water.
I struggled to swallow a few times but couldn’t even form the saliva needed for that. “What happened to you?” I finally managed to force out.
Of its own accord, or Veronique’s accord, my arm lifted to meet my line of vision. It held there, trembling, long enough for me to see the gauzy sleeve—no doubt once a pristine white but now tattered and stained with dry blood—slide away to reveal blue and yellow mottled skin peppered with burn marks. There was more damaged skin than not.
“Oh my God!” I cried out, triggering an excruciating coughing fit. They were going to torture her to death. I had to get her out. How did I get her out?
My head flopped to one side to take in large concrete blocks and no windows. Underground, but was she still in Viggo’s place?
A door creaked open and I felt Veronique’s body spasm with terror. Forcing my head back over to the other side, I watched as two women and a man strode in. I recognized the black-and-silver-haired woman from the first time—the one with the whip. She reminded me of Cruella de Vil. The other woman, with long mousy brown hair and a sour expression, was new. The man, also new. I immediately saw the tattoo on his thumb. The Sentinel’s mark.
“Are you ready to tell us what we want to know, Veronique?” Cruella asked, a vicious grin curling her lips.
I felt Veronique press her lips together. Stubborn girl. Brave. Stupid, given the circumstances but still … brave.
With an annoyed shake of her head, Cruella said, “Very well. Stan?”
The man sauntered forward until he stood at the end of the table, towering over me. I heard a small click and a whooshing sound that brought back memories of a gas stove element. With a raised eyebrow and too much enjoyment dancing on his face, he revealed the bright red cylinder in his hand. A lit blowtorch …
I broke out in a cold sweat, already feeling the lick of that single tiny flame against my skin though it hadn’t neared me yet. “What do you want to know?” I blurted out, desperate to buy Veronique some time before the next round of barbarity began.
“No! Don’t tell her anything!” Veronique cried out in defense.
The two witches’ eyes narrowed with suspicion. Uh oh … Cruella bent forward to study me, her face so close I could count the stitch holes of a tiny silver scar above her left eyebrow, so close the smell of stale coffee on her breath curled my nostrils.
“Do you think she’s finally cracked?” the other one asked. “Split personality?”
Cruella paused, sucking on her top lip. She shook her head slowly. “No … it’s more than that.” Her brow arched curiously, her head cocking to the side. “Sofie? Are you in there?”
Before I could control my eyes, I felt them bulge out of their sockets in surprise. Damn it! She’s on to me. What was I supposed to do now? Maybe I could somehow negotiate with this loon … Her mouth curved into an inhuman smirk. “Yes, I thought so. How long have you been here?” I didn’t answer. A jagged fingernail dragged along the length of my cheek, stopping at the edge o
f my eye socket, disturbingly close to my bottom eyelid. She stared at me, penetrating, searching, violating me.
“Are you watching what we’re doing to your sister, Sofie? Are you enjoying it?” I cried out as her fingernail pushed down, further and further. Searing agony shot through my eye. She intended to dig it right out of its socket!
“It’s not Sofie. It’s someone named Evangeline! Please stop!” Veronique cried out.
My stomach sank. Veronique had just tossed me into a tank of hungry sharks! Then I remembered that it wasn’t my body lying on that metal table with a blowtorch by my feet and a fingernail at my eye.
Cruella’s brow furrowed. She stood, her fingernail lifting from beneath my eye. “I do not know an Evangeline … who is that?”
“I don’t know,” Veronique whispered. Cruella’s hand reached down to assume her eye-gouging position. “But she knows Sofie!”
With a pause and a decision, Cruella smiled down at me. “Well, Evangeline, make sure you let Sofie know how well we’re treating her sister.” She gave Stan a nod.
My back arched as searing hot pain fired throughout my body.
My blood-curdling screams lasted long after the pain had vanished. I couldn’t stop kicking my feet, sliding them back and forth over the cool satiny sheets to put out the flames. By the time I registered that I was in my room in the chateau, a giant werebeast stood over me in my bed and a ring of anxious faces surrounded the foot of it.
“What’s wrong?” Sofie asked, her eyes wide with alarm.
“Burning. Fire. Torture,” I answered in sputters, throwing off the covers to inspect my feet in the moonlight. Nothing but smooth pale skin. You’re safe, Evangeline. Safe. Safe. Safe.
The pain. The smell of burning flesh. It lingered in my nostrils. Though it wasn’t happening to me, it was real. They were torturing Veronique. While I lay in satin sheets, circled by her sister and those I loved, Veronique lay on a cold metal table, circled by the enemy, enduring unimaginable pain. A wave of nausea battered my senses. I was seconds away from bolting to the bathroom to throw up. No one could last long with that level of suffering. No one. And yet, I had to keep this secret. Sofie could not find out or she’d start a war and so many more lives would be lost
