Allegiance

by K. A. Tucker

  “Well, I don’t know … you’re always the good one.”

  “Yeah, and where has that gotten me …” I peered over my shoulder at the chateau, where too many problems lay hidden within the walls. Turning back, gazing down on the city of Paris, I saw only freedom beyond the ten-foot stone wall. An escape, if only brief. I nodded firmly. “We need to get out or I’m going to go bat-shit crazy. Besides, you’re with me and we’re in Paris. No one knows we’re here … we’ll be fine,” I smiled, adding, “Just don’t forget … Sofie can’t fix me if I get broken.”

  Amelie grimaced. She grabbed my hands, her voice suddenly urgent. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ve already lost one best friend. I won’t lose another. I promise. If I suspect anything, we’ll come right back. Swear!”

  I held out my pinky finger. “Swear.” She giggled, hooking onto my pinky, and then followed it with a ferocious hug. Like a cloud lifted, she was back to Amelie, her pretty little face full of determination. She began pawing the visors, the side pockets, the console, the glove compartment.

  “Where are the damn keys? There must be a set somewhere …” When it was obvious that we weren’t going to find a set of keys in here, she shrugged. “Rats! Oh, well.” Reaching down to the ignition, she yanked the cover off, exposing a mess of wires. She had them plucked apart, stripped, and crossed in seconds. The rumble of the engine filled my ears.

  “Where the hell did you learn to hotwire a car?”

  She giggled, pleased by my disbelief. “There were a lot of cars sitting around after the war and no keys. And I was bored.” She threw the car into gear and gunned it, the back end of the jeep sliding sideways in the snow before correcting itself. “Caden taught me.”

  “Caden …” A sharp prick stabbed my heart. I forced the grief away. No doom and gloom, if only for an hour or two. Please.

  The jeep moved forward, weaving along the long drive, the two of us chattering as if we were home free. It wasn’t until I spotted the giant brick wall, and several of Ivan’s men, both in human and wolf form that I realized that they wouldn’t have to smell me. They’d see me sitting in the passenger seat! I slammed my hand against the dashboard. “Damn it!”

  Amelie hit the breaks and the jeep went sliding sideways. “What?” Wild green eyes stared at me.

  With an exaggerated gesture at the wall, I said, “They’ll see me sitting here. They’ll have Sofie after us in under two minutes.”

  “We could crash through and keep driving?” she offered with no conviction in her voice. Her shoulders sank. “You’re right. I was so excited, I didn’t think about that part.”

  “Bloody werewolves,” I muttered, feeling the exhilaration of moments ago deflating. No. I was getting past them. I needed this. I needed to get away. I was going to go crazy otherwise. Unfastening my seatbelt, I scrambled between our seats, over the back seat and into the back of the jeep, planning to lie as flat as possible. They had no reason to check the back of the truck, right? To my pleasant surprise, a navy and beige plaid wool covering sat folded in one corner. Perfect! I dove down and curled into the smallest ball possible, tossing the blanket over myself. I was a full-on stowaway.

  “Ready!”

  “Okey dokey!” Amelie chirped. “I hope this works!” The jeep lurched forward, my body jolting as it barreled over bumps in the old road. I dared not peek out.

  An anxiety-riddled minute later, the brakes squeaked as the jeep slowed to a stop. I sucked in a mouth full of air, waiting. I heard the slide of a mechanical window as it opened. “Hello, friendly werewolves!” Amelie called out with a touch of displeasure in her voice, the touch that no one but a friend could identify.

  Snow crunched, announcing the approach of a two-legged guard. “Where are you going?” a rough Russian-accented voice asked. I didn’t recognize it.

  “Oh, down to the city for a stroll. Maybe a snack …” I could hear the vicious grin in her voice.

  “You normally go on foot.” It was a statement, one coated with suspicion.

  “Yes, but this time I need to bring back some blood with me and this is easier than lugging bags,” Amelie lied smoothly.

  “Viggo brought back a supply yesterday.” Another statement, another layer of suspicion laid down like a heavy rug.

  “And now I’m getting more! What can I say? We’re hungry! Would you rather we eat the staff who’s busy cooking your meals for you?” The edge in her voice was now razor sharp. Though I couldn’t see her, I imagined her small, delicate hands waving dramatically.

  There was long pause. “Why didn’t you get the keys?” the werewolf inquired, obviously noticing Amelie’s hotwire talents. Freaking sharp-eyed wolves.

  Amelie responded with her trademark seductive giggle, one I’m sure no one—even a burly Russian werewolf—could resist. “I’m a naughty girl. I guess old habits die hard.” I sucked in another breath as the excruciating silence stretched. “Come on! I’m not a prisoner here!” She threw in an annoyed sigh.

  I heard snow crunching as footsteps moved away. I exhaled the smallest breath of relief, fighting hard against a delirious giggle. In another moment, the sound of creaking iron gates announced our freedom. The jeep jerked forward one last time.

  ***

  “So I guess there were no basic road rules in your Earth?” I said dryly, my chest tight, my white-knuckled hands gripped on the door handle as the jeep slid sideways into a parking spot. “I should have stayed hidden underneath the blanket for the trip.”

  Amelie winked and giggled at me. We had made it to Paris’s downtown core in what could only be considered record time, swerving through traffic, disregarding street lights, and taking the roundabouts and narrow streets at full speed, as if both of us were immortal.

  Amelie pushed open her car door and hopped out. “Come on! We don’t have a lot of time. Sofie’s going to skin me alive if she finds I’ve taken you out.”

  I gave my body a quick shake, trying to slough off the petrifying drive. My eyes coasted over my surroundings. Paris … I was in Paris! I had only ever dreamed of being here. I’d never expected to make it, or so soon. We were in the heart of the city, parked on a narrow street that bustled with life, even in the winter chill. People darted in and out of shops like little ants, all in a rush, bundled in the most fashionable of coats and hats. I had always heard that Paris was like this—the people knew how to dress. It wasn’t surprising that Sofie was from here.

  I guessed their fashion sense would be the first to die when the need for basic survival took over, when this war began … I looked along the decorative buildings, down at the beautiful cobblestone road. If I focused hard enough, I could see the tufts of grass pushing through the crevices, up heaving history and human life and swallowing it up in years of neglect and decay.

  A violent rap on the side window brought me back from my apocalyptic daydream. I turned to find Amelie’s mesmerizing emerald irises glaring at me through the glass, her arms crossed over her chest in a childlike stance. Opening the door, I barely got my leg out before she grabbed hold of my arm and yanked me the rest of the way.

  “When I say ‘skinned alive,’ I mean it, Evangeline! Literally. She can do it do, you know!” She tugged me forward as she marched across the street. “My skin will just grow back, but it will hurt like a son-of-a-you-know-what while she’s doing it!” I tuned out her dramatic ramblings, peering into the storefronts, each unique and exotic. A soap store, a perfume store, a specialty baby gift shop. Soon, they would all be a thing of the past, remnants of human existence, left behind to decompose in the rubble.

  “Evangeline!”

  The sharpness in her voice slapped me into place. I turned to see those eyes dissecting me—both worry and annoyance in them. “Where is the excitement from thirty minutes ago? I’m risking Sofie’s wrath by bringing you out here. The least you could do is not be a complete zombie!”

  “Sorry …”

  She sighed, squeezing my hand. “It’s okay. You’re dealing
with a lot. I’m dealing with a lot. But,” she yanked on a long cylindrical brass door handle and prodded me forward into the shop with sharp fingers in my shoulder blade, “while we’re dealing with it, let’s do something fun like … get Christmas presents!”

  Christmas. Right. It was tomorrow. It would be my first Christmas with Caden … and perhaps our one and only. Get it together, Evie … I shook the thought away. Amelie was right. Shopping for gifts would be an enjoyable distraction.

  The second we stepped inside, the smell of sweet pipe smoke tickled my nostrils, bringing with it a pang of remembrance. It smelled like Leo. We were in a gentleman’s shop, full of dark wood shelves, and lined with everything from cigars to jewelry to striped dress socks and pink ties. Numerous frazzled women milled about with salesmen trailing behind them, hoping for the commissions on a last-minute desperate and expensive purchase. Of course I would get something for Caden. But what the heck did I get a seven-hundred-year-old vampire for Christmas?

  “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve even thought of getting a Christmas gift for someone? Gosh … I can’t even remember what I … Oh, yes, I can! I got my mother this beautiful pink and white cardigan,” Amelie said, as giddy as a child in a toy store as she strolled up to a counter that held some expensive watches and other men’s jewelry.

  “Bonjour, mademoiselle,” the distinguished man behind the counter chirped in his melodious French tongue.

  Amelie giggled, batting her long eyelashes sweetly. “Hello, sir. My French is atrocious at best.”

  He smiled and nodded. “Oui. I understand. How may I be of assistance?”

  She leaned forward to peer into the glass counter in front of her, her finger dragging over the surface as if ready to identify something. “I’m looking for a pocketknife. A large one. Decorative but effective.”

  “Oui, mademoiselle. I believe I have just the item for you. One moment, please.” While the salesman crouched behind the counter, Amelie turned to me to add in a low voice. “Julian should have a weapon until I can convert him.”

  I forced a smile. “You think it will happen? You’ll be able to convert him, eventually?” Before he turns into a hideous yellow-eyed leper? I didn’t know if that would happen to him. No one knew. While we both had been touched by the magic, I seemed to be the only one who was rapidly changing. Maybe he and Veronique would avoid it somehow.

  “I have to be able to, Evangeline,” she whispered, staring at me with raw desperation. “There’s no point being here, otherwise. I can’t do it again without him.” She was right, I realized. It did have to happen. Amelie had a second chance at love and she wasn’t willing to risk losing it. No, it finally dawned on me. If Julian died … Amelie was as good as gone as well.

  Again, I would lose two good friends. Fiona, Bishop, Julian, Amelie … gone. How long before I lost Caden fully as well?

  “Yes, of course,” I nodded my head, swallowing my fear for my dear friend, forcing a broader smile. I needed to change the topic, and quickly. “What do you think I should get Caden?” I asked as the salesman reappeared, a light brown rectangular box in his hand.

  With a pensive bite of her lip and a roaming look around the glass cases, Amelie pointed at one to our left. Inside it was a selection of pocket watches. “Dad had one of these. Caden loved it. He’s always had a bit of an obsession with the time. It was damaged when …” She looked at the salesman who was now watching us intently, waiting to show Amelie his selection. She chose the rest of her words carefully. “In the accident. I’ll bet he’d love a new one from you.” Turning back to the patient salesman, she sang, “What do you have for me, sir?”

  He slid forward the box and propped open the lid to reveal an ivory-handled knife. “This is what we call a tactical folding knife, mademoiselle,” he explained.

  Amelie pulled it out and flipped it open, revealing the four-inch blade. Enough to seriously injure someone. “Perfect!” she exclaimed, slashing and jabbing the air with it to test it out. The man jumped back, his eyes widening with panic. I hid my smile as I peered down at the glass case. Little did that man know, he had more to worry about from Amelie than a knife.

  “I’ll take it!”

  While he wrapped the box, I studied the display in front of me. There were a dozen or so round timepieces and they were nice enough, but I wanted something special for Caden. Something to remember me by when I was gone. I wanted to give him the best watch in the world. Surely, there was something more elaborate not on display, from where ever he got Amelie’s knife.

  “Do you have any other watches?”

  “Oui … but…,” he stalled, his eyes sizing me up.

  “Can I please see them?”

  He smiled politely but the curl of his upper lip was unmistakable—the superior smirk. “These are more in your range, non?”

  I felt it the second it happened—like a brittle twig, something snapped inside me. Burning fire crawled up my neck, searing my ears, my face, my scalp. As I glared at him, at this pompous man in his three-piece suit, judging me, the urge to scream crippled my senses. I clenched my teeth together to keep from causing a scene. That scrawny neck … I pictured my hands reaching forward and wrapping around it to throttle the arrogance out of him. I was certain doing so would bring me much joy.

  Sure, in my white down jacket and furry boots, I didn’t exactly look like the person who had a hundred million dollars sitting in an account somewhere courtesy of Sofie. Of course, I hadn’t seen a penny of the money, which I didn’t care about. I hadn’t bothered to ask about it, hadn’t bothered to think about it.

  Now, though, it mattered. I had that obscene amount of money to spend, I wanted to get Caden the best damn watch ever, and the end of the world was coming. Who the hell was this … man … this watch man or knife man or cigar man—some sniveling, little man—to tell me I couldn’t even look at a watch when in a few weeks or months or years, he’d be vampire carcass along with everyone else in this room! Assuming the matter closed, the man pulled the display of watches out.

  “No,” I hissed.

  He quirked an eyebrow in surprise. “Non?”

  “Non!” I spat back, mocking his French accent. This imperious little man was denying me a perfect gift for Caden. I hated him. I hated everything about him. Without thinking, I wrenched the knife out of Amelie’s hand. Stretching over the countertop, I seized his plaid vest and yanked him forward with force, holding the knife’s tip dangerously close to his jugular. “Non, as in you are wrong. I’d like to see your best watch. Please.” Blood hammered in my eardrums as I watched terror capture his tongue. He said nothing. He didn’t even blink. “What are you waiting for?” Hatred dripped from my voice, to a level I didn’t know I was capable of.

  A hand squeezed my shoulder. My head whipped around to find Amelie standing there, giving me a wink as her other hand clamped over the knife handle and my fingers. Lowering it, she leaned over the glass, her face inches from his. “Please show us your best piece, sir, and forget that my friend ever held a knife to your neck. She’s having a bad day.”

  When he answered, his voice was even, his words empty. “Oui, one moment.” Into the back room he went.

  With his departure, my fury collapsed, leaving me confused and horrified. What just happened? I stared at Amelie, dumbfounded.

  “Good lord, Evangeline!” Amelie exclaimed. “You’re wound tighter than a yo-yo. I thought you were going to kill him. What’s gotten into you? I mean, it’s cool and all but … a little excessive, don’t you think?”

  I struggled to regulate my breathing. “I don’t know what happened,” I whispered, swallowing repeatedly. Checking the store, I saw that no one had noticed. Thank God! Thank Amelie! “Thank you … for erasing that from his memory,” My fingers raked my hair. I had almost driven a knife into that man—over a watch! Was I finally cracking?

  “No problem. If you want, I can make him tap dance naked in the street after.” I caught Amelie’s devilish smile as the
man returned with a small black metal box. I scrutinized his face as he unraveled the packaging. No sign of fear, no indication that he remembered I had just held him at knifepoint. What is wrong with me? He flipped two hinges open and my self-loathing disappeared instantly. Inside lay a large sterling silver pocket watch nestled in black satin. Around the outside perimeter were engraved roman numbers to identify the hour. In the center, under clear glass, were the gears of the timepiece. A heavy silver chain hung from a loop on the top.

  “Wow,” I said, my internal turmoil temporarily forgotten. Who knew a pocket watch could be so beautiful? “It’s perfect.”

  I looked up to ask the price at the same time that Amelie announced with a wide grin and a penetrating gaze, “Please wrap it up. We’ll take it at no cost.”

  “Amelie!” I hissed when the man turned his back to begin wrapping it. “I can’t steal a gift for Caden!”

  That earned an eye roll. “Oh, please! You were about to stab the man and now you’re worried about stealing from him? You’re so spastic lately …” She grinned impishly. “Besides, think of it as your payment for saving the world. You’ll have earned it.”

  I groaned. Amelie always had a way of rationalizing things to her own advantage. But in this case, I wasn’t going to argue. I was already a delinquent when it came to morals. What was theft, added to conspiracy and attempted murder?

  In under five minutes, we were walking out with wrapped gifts at no cost to us. I tucked the watch into an inside pocket in my jacket to keep it safe. “Where to next?”

  “Evangeline …” Amelie’s voice drifted off as she looped arms with me. She pulled me across the street, paying no heed to the oncoming traffic, even when angry horns blared at us. “Do you think it’s awful of me to be so happy with Julian after watching one of my best friends die? I mean, shouldn’t I be curled up into an angry little ball and not out here, shopping for Christmas gifts and stuff?”

  As we stepped onto the sidewalk, she slowed to a halt. A fractured replica of Amelie’s face turned to stare at me, one suffering from extreme internal turmoil. “Does all this make me a terrible friend?” Her voice turned soft and shaky.