by K. A. Tucker
“This door!” I exclaimed, pointing to it matter-of-factly. His head moved from me to the door to me again, a weird quirk bending his brow.
“Maybe you should slow down on the booze … port doesn’t normally make people hallucinate.”
Hallucinate? No … I frowned. There was no way. My free hand flew out ahead of me, gesturing angrily at the door that could not possibly be missed. “The red door. It’s right here!” Still, Bishop’s expression didn’t change. Looking to the others, I saw the same concerned expressions.
“Bishop’s right about laying off the port for a bit, Eve,” Julian echoed.
“I’m fine!” I snapped. “I’m not seeing things. It’s right here!” I looked back to where my hand was pointing, my finger only inches away from the red paint. Sure enough, it was still there. A bright red door with a brass door handle that hadn’t been there before. I was sure of it. Are they playing a joke on me? I reached forward, my hand feeling the smooth metal handle. “See?”
“No, we don’t see, Evie. Quit it! You’re starting to freak me out!” Bishop said.
A door that no one but me could see … this involved magic.
It had to be Sofie’s work, and the fact that I could see it had to do with the Tribe’s magic. I was undoing her magic again. I could see beyond whatever spell she had cast.
But what could Sofie be hiding behind a secret door in Nathan’s chateau that she didn’t want anyone to know about? What would happen if I dared venture past … could I even? What would be waiting beyond it? Visions of a three-headed serpent in a dark pit flashed into my head. My curiosity quickly pushed it away, unwilling to believe Sofie would have need for such an abomination, desperate to know exactly what she did have need for.
Before I could change my mind, my hand molded over the doorknob, sending prickles through my spine. I turned the knob and heard the click of the door catch releasing.
“Oh my …” Amelie gasped as I stepped across the threshold. There were no dark gray concrete walls and cell bars, no pit, nor were there chains holding back a three-headed demon. It was someone’s living quarters. Normal living quarters, a little on the luxurious side. Rich brown and gray textures and colors called this out as a masculine residence. The only odd thing about the entire space was the lack of windows. A hall stretched off the opposite side of the room. Maybe there were windows down there.
Bishop accidently stepped on my heels as he followed me in. I barely noticed. “Are you seeing this?”
“Yep …” he answered, dumbfounded.
“Told you there was a door,” I added with smug satisfaction.
A subtle breeze behind me, followed by a light pinch of my elbow, warned me that Caden had entered. He surveyed the area. “Maybe we shouldn’t be in here.”
Max’s long snout appeared in my periphery. “Who’s Sofie hiding in here, Max?” I demanded to know.
I have no idea.
“Right. Since when don’t you have the 4-1-1 on everything?” I gave him a doubtful glare. “You’re lying.”
I swear it! I’m as baffled as you. His nostrils flared. Looks like it’s empty. Whatever was here smells like it died long ago.
“That makes no sense. Why would Sofie be hiding an empty room? And why the lit fire?” Above the mantle hung a painting of Sofie in the arms of a handsome dark-haired man. There was only one man it could be. “Is that Nathan?” I asked.
Yup. They made a nice couple, didn’t they?
“Yeah.” I wandered forward, Caden and Bishop in tow. Running a finger along a stack of magazines, I pulled it back and found a thick layer of dust coating my skin. The couch cushion had a worn spot in the center, as if someone had sat there for so long that his or her body imprinted into it. Someone had certainly lived here at some point.
“Who are you?” a voice suddenly called out, startling everyone, including Caden. I whipped my head around to find a man standing in the doorway of the hallway. I gasped.
It was the same face from the painting.
10. The Past, Resurrected—Evangeline
“Nath-an,” I sputtered in a gasp, my words half caught in my throat, any alcohol-induced buzz vanishing. “H-H-How?” As if the sound of my voice triggered a switch, Nathan’s eyes fastened onto my face, his head cocking to one side in a form of recognition. Icy cold slithered through my entire body. This had to be Nathan but …
With a wary eye on him, I strained to glance back at the painting. Same face, same nose, same hair, same … no. I blinked several times. Rich dark chocolate orbs gazed down at me from the wall. Shifting my full attention back to the live Nathan, I recoiled under the cold, washed-out slate color, the irises too large to be normal. Even more odd, those oversized irises reflected everything like mirrors—the dark leather couches, the flickering flames, me.
“Evangeline,” he said in a monotonous drone, his face showing no expression, his voice lacking definition. Nothing but emptiness. A rod of panic shot through my spine. He knows my name.
He wasted no time. With robotic movements, Nathan began moving toward me, his focus glued to my face. A low growl to my side warned me that Max was ready to pounce.
“Evangeline,” Caden whispered through clenched teeth, his tone cutting, “move back … now.”
I couldn’t move, though, so transfixed was I by those blue mirror balls, as if they had lassoed and were now wrangling me in, gripping me tightly. This wasn’t like being compelled. No … those eyes were consuming me. I felt him etching my face into his mind. Worse, that eerie familiarity from outside in the hall now swarmed me with renewed intensity as he neared.
I barely saw what happened next. Max leapt for Nathan’s throat, growling and snapping as I had never seen him do before.
“No!” I shrieked, realizing that Max would kill him. Caden wrenched me away, throwing me into Amelie’s waiting arms. A canine yelp of pain froze all of us in our tracks, turning my blood to ice. We turned to find Max lying motionless on the ground. “No,” I whispered breathlessly, my knees buckling, reaching desperately for my guardian. With Max out of the way, Nathan wasted no time continuing toward us. Toward me.
Bishop dove in next, a crazed determination on his face. Without a glimmer of concern , Nathan’s arm swiftly moved up to block the attack, his large hand wrapping around Bishop’s neck. What happened next, I couldn’t explain if I wanted to. Already pale, I watched Bishop’s face turn a pallid ashen color and tighten up, as if Nathan was leeching out the life that kept him immortal. Once done, Nathan tossed Bishop’s limp, withered body to the side.
“No!” Both Amelie and I shrieked in unison. My heart stopped. What had Nathan done? Was he Walking Death now too? Is this what I was doomed to become?
With desperation, I searched Bishop for signs of life. His left knee twitched. Like nerves in a freshly killed body. Was he dead? Was Max? Had Nathan just killed them in front of me? I stood frozen, watching Nathan continue closing the distance. Sucking in, I curled into myself, cowering. Amelie’s fingers tightened around my arms, her own tension channeling through me like a live wire.
But then those blue mirrors flickered off me, moving to my left. To Caden.
I froze, seeing Caden’s jaw set with resolve, his body swaying as he positioned himself, getting ready to attack.
Getting ready to die.
In the blink of an eye—because I had opened the door that Sofie didn’t want anyone opening—I was about to lose everyone. Dread, guilt, and desperation boiled over inside me, charging my limbs with newfound strength, electrifying my body until I could almost see sparks shooting from my skin’s surface.
No … no … no! I couldn’t allow this. I wouldn’t allow this. I would fight. “Stop!” I screamed, struggling to break free of Amelie’s viselike grip.
“You can’t, Evie.” Her fingers dug into my forearms.
“Let me go, Amelie!” I roared. Rage ignited those mental sparks into a fiery blue flame as I battled her impossible strength. Suddenly, Amelie was crumbling bac
k with a howl of pain, her grip on me loosened. In the back of my mind, I knew it was something I had done to her but at that moment, I didn’t care. I cared about one thing only.
I dove forward, hurtling my body in front of Caden to create a barrier before he knew what was happening. “You will not kill him!” I screamed, fists clenched at my sides, bracing myself for whatever agony Nathan was about to serve.
Nathan’s mirror balls snapped to mine and he halted. We watched each other, face to face, two feet of space between us, two feet keeping me from becoming a corpse. I watched without breathing, waiting for that deadly hand to reach up and sap life out of me.
But instead, Nathan did something I could not have expected. No one could have expected. He dropped to his knees and leaned forward, so low that his forehead reached the floor, inches away from my feet. “As you command. I am here to serve and protect you, my Evangeline.”
I instinctively backed away. I only made it two steps before I slammed into Caden’s rigid body. When I looked back over my shoulder at him, I found shock staring back.
“What the hell did you do to Max and Bishop?” Amelie hissed, stepping forward, one hand on Julian’s chest to keep him behind her. I noticed her hunched over slightly, as if wounded. Again, that nagging voice in the back of my mind told me I was the cause her discomfort, but I had no time to concern myself. Nathan’s head lifted mechanically, blue mirror balls shifting to her, the vacuous glare in them enough to give any vampire pause.
“Is she a threat to you, Evangeline?” His leg shifted to get up, not moving his focus from her.
A threat. A threat he needed to immobilize or kill, like he had Max and Bishop? My hands flew out in front of me in surrender. “No!” I shrieked, my voice cracking. I adjusted my tone to one more tranquil. “She is my friend. They are all my friends.”
As if my words provided verification, his focus shifted back to me, losing interest in Amelie.
A whirl of movement pulled all of our attention to the corner of the room where Max and Bishop last lay. Max was back on four paws, his black body stretching out. Beside him, a normal-looking Bishop also stood. “Oh, thank God,” I whispered, crumbling against Caden. Nathan hadn’t killed them after all. Yet.
Max’s low snarl gave me enough warning to stop a second round. “Max! No! It’s okay!”
No, it’s not, he growled, sauntering forward, choosing his path of assault.
“It is, Max! Please, just stay back until we sort this out.”
With a snort, Max leaned back on his haunches, letting out little snarls and growls to let everyone in the room know he wasn’t pleased.
“Bishop?”
Bishop didn’t answer me as he was too busy glowering at Nathan’s back with equal parts shock, anger, and awe. Nathan didn’t even bat a lifeless eye at them, focused on me as he stood.
“Why are you in here?” I asked him. Something told me this was not Sofie’s Nathan, that this had to be some form of alien impostor.
“I am here to protect you.”
“Are you Nathan?” Caden’s voice was level and calm, his suspicions matching my own.
Nathan stared blankly at us as if trying to translate what Caden was asking. “I do not understand,” he finally confirmed.
Again, I peered at Caden over my shoulder. He shrugged.
“Damn it, Evangeline!” A shout turned me around to the doorway just as a red mane rushed by, her face a mask of shock and rage as if I had committed a calculated crime. A crowd of spectators—Mage, Lilly, and her gang—packed the entrance, peering at Nathan with their own mixture of curiosity and aversion.
“I didn’t … mean to,” I stumbled over my words, heat burning my cheeks. Liar! I knew. I knew as my hand closed over that brass doorknob that this door would open part of a world Sofie had worked hard to bury. I knew, and I busted it down, anyway.
Perfectly manicured hands raised to cover her face, her fingertips pressing down on her eyelids. “You broke the spell … I should have known you would break the spell.” Her arms flopped to her side, her anger fading into defeat. She turned to cast a wary eye on the man in Nathan’s body, only managing a few seconds before flinching, her gaze dropping to the floor, her eyes squeezing shut as if stabbed by a jolt of pain.
Nathan looked past her, as if she was not important. As if she hadn’t been the love of his life. As if he had no clue who she was. “Are they a threat to you, Evangeline?” he asked again, his focus now on the crowd at the door.
“No.” To Sofie, I whispered in a harsh tone, “Why does he keep asking me that?”
Sofie’s mouth opened to answer but Mortimer and Viggo’s sudden entrance distracted us. “Good lord, Sofie!” Mortimer boomed in horror as he stared at Nathan. “Just when I thought you couldn’t bring about more catastrophe, here we are. What on earth have you done now?”
Sofie’s shoulders visibly sagged, her entire being a lifeless sack. She didn’t speak at first, her mouth opening and closing a few times, searching for words. “It was a mistake,” she whispered hoarsely.
“Are they a threat to you, Evangeline?” Nathan asked, yet again, blue mirrors casting their judgment on Viggo and Mortimer. He didn’t recognize them, either.
I hesitated slightly before saying no, casting a sidelong look at Viggo. He responded with a sneer, surely realizing my wavering. This could work to my advantage. If this Nathan thing could do to Viggo what he had just done to Bishop—and make it permanent—there’d be a few happy people in the room …
“And what exactly is this thing?” Viggo asked, his nose curled in disgust as one might if looking at road kill. If it bothered Nathan, I couldn’t tell. He appeared unfazed by everyone’s reactions.
Sofie seemed unable to speak.
“This isn’t Nathan,” I finally said into the silence.
“Nathan is dead,” came Sofie’s hollow response.
“Well, he certainly looks an awful lot like—” Amelie began.
“It’s not Nathan!” Sofie shrieked, spinning on her heels, looking ready to lunge at Amelie. But then, as if catching herself, she froze, her hands flying to her mouth, her slender fingers intertwined to clamp over her lips. An oppressive weight lowered onto the room like heavy smog. I noticed Mage and Mortimer exchange looks of worry. I knew what they were thinking.
Sofie was finally crumbling.
No one spoke. No one moved. We all gave her a moment to collect herself. When her hands lifted from her mouth, she was our normal, composed Sofie again. “Everyone … meet Wraith.”
“How appropriate …,” Bishop muttered dryly, pushing his hand through the back of his hair as he stepped to claim the area to my left.
“Wraith …,” I said, raking my brain for its definition. I remembered hearing that word before. “Isn’t that, like, a ghost?”
I felt Caden’s strong fingers curl around my elbow, pulling me ever so slightly closer to him but not to be too noticeable to anyone watching. To Bishop. The creature named Wraith didn’t miss the contact, though, those creepy eyes shifting from Caden’s hand to his face.
“Evangeline, I advise you not to get close to that one. He is capable of causing fatal injury to you.”
“What the—” Caden exploded, stepping forward, rage twisting his face. I was sure I was going to witness Wraith attack Caden after all. But Sofie soared in to intercept, her arms out to create an obstacle between the two of them.
“Stop, Caden. It’s all right. Please. I’ll explain …”
I watched in horror as Wraith’s hand lifted and clamped onto Sofie’s forearm like a steel manacle. Sofie’s beautiful face withered to a shriveled shell, her cheeks going sallow, the pulsating intensity in her irises dwindling. Dying.
There was no doubt. He was sapping the life right out of her.
“Stop it, Wraith!” I shrieked, diving forward to grab hold of his arm with both of my hands, ready to yank or bite or rake it free. Whatever I had to do. There was no need, though. The steel manacle popped open at my
command. With quicker reflexes than I believed I had, I dove to my knees to catch Sofie’s head as she collapsed to the ground. I held my breath as I cradled her—so frail and helpless and hideous in that moment—waiting frantically for her to return to her radiant self.
“Why would you do that to her?” I demanded, looking up through a veil of tears to see guiltless mirrors watching me. “This is Sofie! Don’t you get it?”
“You weren’t supposed to find this room.” My head jerked down as I heard Sofie’s raspy gasp. Her creamy complexion had returned, her skin plumping as I watched. With a hand on her back, I helped her into a sitting position. “I never wanted to bring you here.” Slowly, awkwardly, using my shoulders as support, she rose to her feet and stumbled away from me, pushing past everyone to rush out of the room as if the air in it was suffocating her.
I followed, shoving through the throng at the door. My elbow rammed the terrifying Kait’s rock-hard abdomen, but I didn’t flinch. My hand pushed against Viggo’s chest without a thought. Outside in the hallway, I found my maternal vampiress buckled over and holding her chest, slouching against the wall opposite the door in the hallway. Shattered.
“Is he going to hurt us, Sofie?” I asked tentatively.
Gradually, she stood. Terror seized my heart as I took in the hollow, lost gaze. The look of defeat.
Sofie was giving up.
Sofie couldn’t give up. She was my rock. She was the one who kept assuring me everything would be okay. If she gave up … Blood rushed to my ears as my internal panic exploded.
Finally, Sofie shook her head. “No … yes and no.”
What did that mean? “What is he?” I asked as softly as I could. “Is he like the Tribe? Is that what their touch does?” Is that what my touch will do?
Her vacuous stare shifted past me. I turned to follow it, finding everyone now out in the hall, the crowd parted to allow Nathan prime view from his position in the room. That, and I’m sure no one was in any rush to get close to him.
“No … he’s far worse,” she whispered, adding with a hiss, “courtesy of the Fates.” Sickness roiled inside me. The Fates. I couldn’t win with them. No one could. “He is immune to all forms of magic. He takes life with a touch if he so chooses. His touch is not lethal unless he wants it to be. He usually does …” Her face twisted into a sardonic smile. “He is the ultimate protection for you. He is exactly what I asked for. Unstoppable, unkillable, untraceable. He’s dead. He is death.”
