Revenant

by Patti Larsen

  “What?” His tension mirrors mine.

  “We’re not alone.” I know if I look back up the aisle, through the partially open curtain, I’ll see Jean Marc again. And likely Kristophe. And those two don’t travel alone. Which means…

  Andre is on the plane with me.

  I’m trapped.

  —in a cage, crouched in filth, my body aching from beatings and other things, my mouth dry and hot with illness I’m just recovering from. I don’t know how much more I can take, but my wolf demands we survive, so I let her take over. Let her be the one who paces the inside of the tiny enclosure, shoulders hunched forward, long, blonde hair hanging in scraggly strings to brush the dirty straw on the stone floor. Waiting for him to come back—

  Someone stirs up front, breaking the memory in half, allowing me to return to myself. I raise my eyes in total dread, my wolf knowing, me, the girl inside me, all of us well aware of what’s coming, of who is coming. My heart beats rapidly, a tiny bird in panic, the whole world narrowing to a tunnel of black, the center of it inhabited by the tall, angular form of the man I’ve known most of my life.

  —he’s come back, back to hurt me some more. Back to add to my torment, to teach me, offer me an education, he calls it. But my soul only hardens against him with every visit. And I grow stronger for the abuse—

  Strong, yes. But terrified none the less. Of Andre Dumont.

  He stands from his first class seat, adjusting his suit coat as though such things matter, decorum and appearances. It gives me a moment to draw air into my lungs through my gaping mouth, gone dry from memory, hands clenching in my lap. He lazily turns and walks down the aisle, through the curtain, Jean Marc and Kristophe grinning at me around the backs of their seats. I ignore them, doing everything I can to hold myself together, as Andre’s shiny shoes stop next to me. The scent of him washes over me, choking the little air I’m able to draw.

  —he smells of sandalwood and vanilla. I will never be able to bear that smell again—

  And to the empty seat beside me.

  He settles into it, crossing his legs, a soft smile on his face, as fake as the rest of him. I can see the fine lines showing in his carefully maintained illusion of youth. He hasn’t gone so far as his insane mother, Odette, who used massive doses of family power to disguise her decline. But he’s not going easily into age, his skin thinning on his cheeks, the lids falling ever so slightly over his icy eyes. Age will not treat Andre well, I can only imagine. And hope.

  I still can’t believe there was an instant when I was a child I thought him handsome. With his aristocratic features and ice blond hair, his intense blue eyes and polished demeanor, I wondered when I was given to him if he would be a good master, someone honorable I could bond to without regret, with pride in my pairing.

  I was so wrong.

  Andre doesn’t try to touch me, simply smiles, looking back and forth between Sage and me. The attendant arrives with a sub sandwich wrapped in foil. I pay for it with trembling fingers, hating the traitor way my hand shakes in front of the man I hate the most in this world, the monster who made me what I am. It burns in my soul Andre sees my upset. The attendant leaves us alone as Sage devours the sandwich in giant bites. I know he can’t control himself, but I despise the way Andre watches him with cold calculation, a tiny smirk lifting the corner of his mouth while his empty blue eyes measure Sage’s state of being.

  “So lovely to finally find a moment alone with you.” Andre’s French accent always gives me the creeps, reminds me of being a little girl again, unable to fight back. And though I know it’s not their fault, every time I hear a French accent now, I have a hateful reaction to whomever is speaking.

  “What do you want?” It’s obvious he’s managed to trap me here. But there are no Enforcers I can feel, no pressure of threatening magic. Even Andre’s is dormant, without challenge against my shields. Which means the Dumont leader has plans of his own that don’t involve the authorities.

  “I’ve done my best to keep them from finding you,” he says, the most shocking thing I’ve heard leave his mouth in a long time. “Seems to have worked, when you’ve not chosen to be a stupid girl and get others involved.”

  I’m still a girl to him. And though I wish she would stop her savage screeching inside me, I have no control over the screams of the very child he speaks of.

  “You’ve been protecting us?” Not very damned likely. Unless… “Why?”

  “I would think that would be obvious, my dear Charlotte.” His smile turns sharp and cruel. “You are in a position that puts me at an advantage. No one else can save you and get away with it, not even your beloved Sydlynn. They would guess where you’ve gone, watching her closely, the Enforcers.” He nods as I silently curse. “Yes, even on my new adopted continent. Erica Plower and the North American Council are on watch for you as well. Though they have no idea how close you’ve come to leaving Europe. At least, not yet.”

  I glare at him, wishing I could stop the trembling that has taken over my body.

  “Now,” he says, brusque, but cheerful, “mon animal de compagnie,” he loved calling me his little pet, “to answer your question. Since you can’t go home, and have nowhere to turn, you are out of options. I’m going to give you one.” He straightens his tie, plays with his cuff links, hooded eyes making my stomach churn. “I help you,” he says, “because I want you for myself.”

  The girl in me wails her denial, terror breaking out sweat all over my body. It is only sheer force of will keeping me from attacking him.

  “I know you better than those fool Enforcers,” Andre says. “I’ve been following your lovely scent ever since you left the palace. No one knows you like I do. And no one deserves to own you, but me.”

  Never again. Never. Never. Never. Never—

  “I want you to come work for me.” I know what that means. “Work” equals “slave” to Andre. “And, in return, I’ll protect your petite pet project,” he flicks his fingers at Sage who glares with wolf eyes, still chewing his sandwich. “I’ll even do my best to find a way to save him, if that pleases you.”

  Why would he do that? “I don’t believe you.” He’s never given me a reason to trust him. The opposite, in fact. I fight memories, the girl inside me wanting to fall into the darkness of them, but I can’t do it. I have to stay present, if only for Sage.

  “Believe me or not,” Andre says, “it’s the truth.” He leans toward me despite Sage’s rumbled growl of a warning. “I owned you once,” he hisses in my ear. “And I will own you again, Charlotte Girard. Mark me.”

  —I crouch, naked, in a corner, my tiny girl’s body shifting into wereform as Andre laughs, shedding his belt, pulling at the zipper of his expensive dress pants—

  I jerk back from him, though his hand grasps my wrist and holds me.

  “That’s the deal,” he says. “I save your revenant, keep him safe, and you submit to me.”

  I can’t, I can’t, but how can I not? I turn to look at Sage who shakes his head, wolf eyes retreating.

  “It’s not worth it,” he says.

  “You don’t have a choice.” Andre releases me. “I have you trapped on board this plane. One message from me, and the Enforcers will come. Say no, and your boyfriend dies in fire. Say yes, and I keep them from him.”

  “Or I kill you and your filthy children.” I’ve never felt so fierce. Is it Sage’s influence? But now the girl in me is no longer afraid. She’s furious.

  Andre flinches a little, just enough I know I’ve scared him. “You can try,” he says. “And the boy dies. You can’t take all of us out at once without making a scene in front of normals. And if anything happens to me or mes fils, the revenant will suffer for it.”

  No, I won’t be trapped. But I am, and I allowed it to happen.

  Despair surges inside me, the old hurts waking and trying to swallow me. The little girl I was wails her desperation. I turn to Sage, feeling panic devouring me. I reach for his hand, feel his fear for me, not for hi
mself.

  Charlotte, his mind touches mine.

  I can’t let him die.

  But I can’t give in to Andre.

  Cold fingers run over my cheek. I turn my head, meet those ice blue eyes and something in me snaps.

  My power surges, reaching for rescue. And finds the veil between planes. I jerk at it, a desperate action, and I’m suddenly falling through a slice in the veil, seatbelt doing nothing to hold me in place, Sage held tightly to my hand.

  My last view before darkness is Andre’s angry face disappearing as the tear snaps closed.

  ***

  Chapter Thirteen

  I’m falling in the dark, but it’s far different than the sorcery tunnel I’m used to. The veil has never felt this way before, so empty and loose, the rubbery membrane not holding me in place, but flowing around me like a thick river. I know I have some kind of demon connection, thanks to the trip I took to Demonicon with Syd. She claims I have access to that power, through fire, and I felt it, have used it in the past to speed my steps when in werewolf form. And I’ve even experienced the zing of it when I ride the veil with Syd. But, there’s a purpose to our movement when I travel with my friend, a firm grasp of magic keeping us on target. This simply has the sensation of being lost in the vastness of nothing, sucked down deeper and deeper with no end in sight, the burn of the demon power inside me nowhere to be felt.

  My panic still holds, as tightly as I cling to Sage’s hand. I barely see him, even with my wolf senses at maximum. It’s impossible to stop my mind from screaming its distress into the emptiness of the veil between planes.

  I don’t know what happens to those who enter the veil but don’t come out the other end. But I can make an educated guess. The veil is vast, connecting thousands of planes. Sage and I could fall forever and never escape. My mind flashes to Syd, the night she was drained by Batsheva Moromond and her vampires, having enough power to enter the veil but not enough to leave it.

  I was certain we lost her, that Syd was gone forever, devoured by the veil. And I think had she not connected with Max, with Trill Zornov, she would have perished no matter her near imperviousness to harm.

  Sage and I have no such protections.

  We’re going to die here.

  PLEASE! I send the word out in a burst of desperate hope. Save us! All of my pride is gone, my need to protect my hardened core from showing weakness. I can’t let our lives end here in the darkness. This would be a terrible end.

  Silence and falling and the suctioning nothingness of the veil. Not even Syd can hear me here. I give up hope, though my mind continues to beg the Universe for help. It’s all I can do. I turn to Sage, see his lips moving, but I can’t hear his words, the sound swallowed by the veil. I pull him closer, hug him tightly to me.

  It can’t end this way.

  Something buffets against me, wind moving where there is no wind.

  I beg you, a soft mind says as a gray figure with giant wings and glowing diamond eyes comes to hover in front of me, huge dragon nose practically touching mine. Stop with the noise you’re making, if you don’t mind.

  My mental shriek cuts off, panic retreating. Max?

  I am not my leader, the drach says, the pressure of his wing strokes halting our downward tumble. I hear Sage’s mental churning in my head now I’ve stopped screaming, the veil making it easier to connect with him when I’m focused. He’s trying to grasp the vision of a dragon hovering before us, but I don’t have time to comfort him.

  We are lost, I send to the drach, almost sobbing my relief. Can you help? Sanity returns with the fading memory of Andre, with the fear of our endless deaths now gone. We’ve escaped, somehow, I recall. Through a tear in the veil. Did I do that? I did that…

  Odd, the drach says in a conversational tone, as though we weren’t hovering in the veil, but standing on an ordinary street corner passing the time of day. One would think if you can enter the veil, you could exit it on your own power as well.

  It was an accident. How did I do it? I must find out, desperation shoved aside by a blast of victory. This could solve many problems for Sage and me. Panic is replaced by hope for our future.

  I see. The drach sweeps his wings again, rainbow light casting off him and sparking in the veil. You are a werewolf?

  I am, I send. A dear friend of Sydlynn Hayle. I’m not above using that relationship in this moment, though I second-guess myself once I say her name. Hopefully, he won’t summon her or worse, Max. I’m certain the leader of the drach will insist on taking me to Wilding Springs.

  Indeed, the drach says. Any friend of the Light One is a friend of the drach. You had a destination in mind when this accident occurred?

  I reach out and brush my fingers over the rock-hard scales of his nose. Yes, I send, my mind going to Miami. I realize my mistake the moment the veil opens beside us and the shining night-time coast of Florida appears. But I have no time to ask the drach to take us further.

  Be well, friend of Sydlynn Hayle, he sends.

  And we’re plunging ten feet toward the ground, landing hard on damp sand as the heavy waves pound froth upon the shore behind us. Sage pants into the warm night air, looking up as I do in time to see the veil seal itself again.

  “Damn it!” I pound the ground with both fists. “I’m an idiot!”

  Sage rolls over onto his back, coughing a laugh. “You saved our lives,” he says. “What’s so wrong with that?”

  “I should have told him to send us to California.” I sit up, brushing sand from my arms, shaking my dark bob in frustration. “What a waste of an opportunity.”

  Sage props himself up on one elbow, grinning. “The coolest freaking save in the history of saves,” he says, “and you’re still not happy.”

  I meet his eyes, catch my lips lifting with my mood. “Well,” I say, “it was rather awesome.” I can tear the veil. Me, Charlotte. I can do what Syd does, what I know Andre can’t do. That brings me great satisfaction. He needs magic to travel, visible magic. I can use the veil.

  Now I just need to figure out how to do it under controlled circumstances. And how to make an exit point on the other side. Because I can’t be guaranteed there will be another drach around next time to save us.

  “Come on,” I say, climbing to my feet, helping Sage to his. “We’ve got a fair head start on Andre, but he may have altered the North American Enforcers by now.”

  Sage frowns at me, eyes shifting slightly and back again. “I get the impression he won’t turn us in.”

  A shiver runs down my back, makes my toes curl. I can’t let the man affect me anymore. I’m no longer that girl he tortured and abused. If only I can convince her of that. “No matter,” I say. “We’ve covered a lot of ground. But we still have a country to traverse.”

  Sage doesn’t comment as I turn to scan the well-lit Miami skyline. I haven’t been here in years, since I almost died, returning to find my bond to Syd was broken and gone with my near-death experience. Andre had been there that night, the night Syd destroyed the machine the Brotherhood used to steal the Dumont power. He deposed Mia, took control of the family magic himself. And now, he’s the first male coven leader in the history of coven leaders.

  Syd told me later she almost took the power for herself, as risky as that would have been. I wish she had and killed Andre in the process. But no, I want that particular thrill for myself. I don’t know when or how, but I will see to it Andre Dumont doesn’t see the old age he’s obviously worried about.

  I shudder again despite my determination as we make our way up the beach and to the boardwalk. Whatever Andre’s reasons for wanting control of me, it will never happen. I’ll put an end to my life—and Sage’s—before I allow the Dumont leader to take me.

  ***

  Chapter Fourteen

  The street bustles with tourist activity, six hours or so behind where we just left. The night is still young, fresh. But I haven’t forgotten Sage’s internal clock. It has no use for time zones. We may have gained a
few hours, but he’s still on day four with time running short.

  “Now what?” Sage looks up and down the street, turning sideways to block me from a group of teenagers. “We’ve lost all our stuff.”

  Our carryons are gone, left behind on the airplane. No money, no papers. But we don’t need passports anymore, at least. Money, on the other hand…

  “You,” I say to him, pushing him toward a small café, open to the air, an empty table next to the sidewalk. I still have the change in the pocket of my dress from paying for his sandwich. “Have a coffee. I’ll be right back.”

  Sage’s frown tells me he knows what I’m up to, but he doesn’t argue. I leave him as a girl comes to wait on him, watch a moment as he smiles at her, makes her blush. He’s so good with people, so genuine everyone adores him.

  I have to save him.

  Though I’m not proud of these particular skills, I’ve been well trained as a pickpocket. In fact, it was the first thing I learned as a young girl, taught by one of the Black Souls. He thought it amusing to teach the young of the werenation to steal, the mighty werewolves reduced to taking pocket change from strangers. And though I’m a bit out of practice, I was always the best of my age group. With a few brushes by tourists and accidental bumps into the odd rich girl with her tiny clutch dangling from her hip, I have more than enough wallets to mine for what I need.

  I take a moment in a dark alley behind an oriental restaurant to sift through my gains. The wallets and all their plastic go in the dumpster beside me, while the cash makes a comforting wad in the padding of my bra. Two thousand or so, rich girl’s coin purse the most generous, more than enough to carry us across the country without a problem.

  Sage doesn’t comment when I stroll up to him, just stands and follows me, leaving a generous tip beside his barely touched cup of coffee. It’s not until we round the corner he takes my hand and sighs.

  “All set?” At least he’s not arguing with me this time.