Someone took her hand, and a tug of wind pulled her into a vortex of air, until she was again on solid ground. Someone had apparated her.
She stood there, shaking, as her vision and hearing were gradually restored. Disoriented, she looked around.
She stood in a nondescript windowless room; bare wooden floors, blank white walls, a round table and a few chairs. Isobel stood next to the table, her expression blank. They were the only ones in the room; Elisabetta was nowhere to be seen.
“Please,” Isobel said, though her tone was anything but polite, “have a seat.”
Naomi moved to one of the chairs, noticing that they were all bolted to the floor. Probably a protective measure. Was this some sort of detention center for witches?
She sat down, forcing herself to keep her breathing steady. Isobel remained standing, surveying her.
“Here’s something I don’t understand about you, Naomi. Descendants are the most powerful of witches. I’ve heard about how you’ve made the earth shake. Yet you went your whole life not knowing you were a witch. How is that possible?”
Naomi blinked. This wasn’t the question she’d expected.
“I thought witches and vampires were myth—like most humans. My parents placed a Locking spell on my magic. I’m sure this information is all in my file. I had nothing to do with Camille’s death,” she added, addressing the reason she was here. “Alaric and I questioned her, and then we left.”
“And what is it about that vampire? Alaric?” Isobel asked, her gaze sliding to Naomi’s hand, to the gimmel ring Alaric had given her.
“What?”
“Your mate.” Isobel spat the word like it was a slur. “Why have you chosen to mate with a vampire and not someone of your own kind? Purebloods are rare; Descendants rarer still. There are many pureblood witches you could’ve mated with. Your vampire is beautiful, yes, but most vampires are. It’s by design; their beauty is meant to ensnare, then kill. I don’t understand—“ Isobel’s voice rose, shaking with anger, “why you would risk your pure bloodline by mating with a Blood Beast.”
Naomi stared at her, icy fear spreading through her veins. Blood Beast. That was a slur the Order used for vampires.
“We were excited to discover we’d finally found a Descendant,” Isobel continued, her eyes roving over Naomi’s face, “and then . . . you were such a disappointment. First, your struggles with magic. And then turning on your own kind.”
Naomi gripped the edge of the table so tightly that her knuckles went white. This wasn’t at all about Camille’s murder. Either Isobel was simply prejudiced . . . or she was a member of the Order. The traitor in the Alliance. And Naomi was alone with her.
Her panic spiked and her hands began to shake, it seemed as if the air had been sucked out of the room. Think. She suspected the room had an anti-magical barrier on it. She tested her theory, silently casting a Summoning spell on the necklace that Isobel wore around her neck. Nothing happened.
Damn it. She couldn’t use her magic in here. She had to use her wits.
“I’ve been having . . . doubts,” Naomi murmured, lowering her eyes.
“Doubts?”
“Doubts about working with the Alliance. About—about mating with Alaric,” she said, meeting Isobel’s eyes, praying that her lies came across as truth. “I don’t want to waste my power.”
“What do you want?” Isobel asked, leaning down to grip the edge of the table.
“I—I want to join you. And Genevieve. Genevieve is blood, after all,” Naomi said, studying her closely. If Isobel wasn’t a traitor, she would recoil from her words.
But Isobel remained stoic, peering into her eyes. And then she threw her head back and laughed.
“You are a terrible liar,” Isobel said, amused. “Genevieve told me your mother was also a terrible liar.”
Naomi closed her eyes, shaking. She’d hoped she was being paranoid, that Isobel wasn’t the traitor. She was alone with her, and she had no idea where they were. How was she going to get out of this?
“Why?” Naomi breathed, desperate to keep Isobel talking. “Why are you doing this?”
“I wanted peace when I joined the Alliance. But then . . . I saw what was happening to our kind. Our numbers are dwindling; our bloodlines are being soiled by witches mating with humans and vampires. Do you think the vampires in the Alliance care that witches are dying out? No, they want to keep us close; they fear our magic. I hoped when we found a Descendant, things would be different. But you refused to sacrifice yourself for your kind; you chose to work against us. And then you—a rare pureblood—mated with a vampire,” Isobel hissed, shaking with rage.
Revulsion filled Naomi at her words; Isobel was just as bad as Raphael. But she had to keep her preoccupied while she figured a way out of this.
“Are there other members of the Alliance who feel the same way?”
Isobel stilled, and her eyes narrowed.
“I know what you’re doing. You’re not as clever as you think you are. There is no getting out of this, Naomi. Genevieve wanted to kill you herself, but I think she’ll forgive me if I do the honors.”
Isobel raised her hand. Panicked, Naomi used the last weapon in her arsenal; raw, genuine emotion.
“I don’t understand,” Naomi pleaded, “we don’t need to kill millions to survive. We can coexist with—“
“How many witches have been killed by humans? By vampires? Do you think human history books have covered even a fraction of the actual numbers? Do you not know how we have all suffered at their hands? You are fighting on the wrong side, Naomi. The Order was formed for our survival; we will do what we must to survive. We are the ones blessed with magic, but the Blood Beasts and humans rule the world! Raphael understood what needed to be done, and you killed him. Your own kind!” Isobel raged. “We don’t need you anymore; we have Genevieve. When she revealed herself as the true Descendant who will save us, I felt hope again. Our kind will rise above the—“
“Witches are responsible for my parents’ deaths,” Naomi cried, tears stinging her eyes. “Witches have abducted me, and tortured me, and tried to kill me. They turned on their own kind. But I still fight for them—for all creatures!”
“You’re naive, and you’re a fool!” Isobel snarled. Her eyes were wild, and she lifted her hand higher, on the verge of casting a spell. “You’ve lived in the human world all your life; you know nothing of the ways of true witches. It’s a shame such power has been wasted on you. I wanted to kill you the moment you first stepped into Alliance headquarters. I’m glad I finally have the chance. Itolaar!”
An invisible pressure coiled around Naomi’s throat. Her hands flew to her neck, and she struggled to breathe.
“I can use magic in here,” Isobel said calmly, answering the question in Naomi’s panicked eyes. “We will find other purebloods and deserving Descendants, we will rid the world of lesser creatures.”
Naomi fought for air; in seconds she would pass out. There had to be some way to use her magic, or—
The door crashed open. Naomi immediately recognized Blaize, one of the other leaders of the Alliance, the copper-eyed vampire who’d questioned her back in London. He halted at the sight of Naomi struggling to breathe, looking genuinely horrified.
“Isobel!” he shouted. “What are you doing? Release her!“
Isobel whirled towards him, releasing Naomi from her hold. She shouted the Killing spell, and Naomi watched in horror as Blaize slumped to the ground, dead.
Naomi stumbled to her feet, clutching her throat as she drew in much needed air. Terror nearly consumed her at the sight of Blaize’s dead body. Oh my God.
“Look at what you’ve done,” Isobel said, whirling back to face Naomi, fire in her eyes. “Killed a leader of the Alliance when he was just trying to question you. It’s a good thing I came in here to stop you before you could kill again.”
Isobel raised her hand. Naomi’s eyes darted to the door. It was open, which hopefully meant the magical barrier wa
s no longer in place.
“Erel here sleri!” Naomi shouted. There was that familiar tug of wind, and she found herself in a long corridor outside the room Isobel had held her captive in.
She darted forward, too terrified to feel relieved. Isobel would soon be on her, and she still didn’t know where the hell she was. She needed to find an exit, and fast.
Up ahead, there was a door, a door she prayed led to an exit. She heard a crash on the other side, and then cries and shouts. She froze, hope filtering in through her panic. One of the voices belonged to Alaric.
“Cantair se yerel!”
Naomi turned, barely evading Isobel’s spell as she charged at her from the far end of the corridor.
“Cantair se yerel!” Naomi shouted, and Isobel went flying back.
Naomi turned and scrambled forward, throwing open the door, and she collided with a tall muscular vampire. She looked up, her fear shifting to relief.
It was Alaric.
“Naomi,” he whispered, his blue eyes filled with emotion as they roved over her face, as if he didn’t quite believe she was real.
Naomi heard Isobel’s cry of fury behind them. There was no time for celebration. She gripped Alaric’s arms, and they apparated from the hall.
Chapter 20
Alaric never thought he’d rely on Elisabetta to save their lives, but she expertly evaded the two Alliance cars that chased after them. He held Naomi close to his side; she was tense and silent, like Madalena, Elias and Casimir, who all sat in the back seats of Elisabetta’s Range Rover.
Elisabetta had been true to her word. She’d led them to the rundown mansion on the outskirts of the city where the Alliance had Naomi in custody. They’d met up with Madalena and Elias, holed up in a car a few blocks away. The Alliance guards trusted Elisabetta, and she used their trust to get them all inside. While the others fought the guards, Alaric had raced up the stairs to find Naomi.
He pulled Naomi closer, filled with relief that he’d found her safe and alive. In the breathless few moments they had as they raced from the mansion to the car, Naomi confirmed that Isobel was indeed the traitor.
“I’m going to take a wild guess and say we’re on the Alliance’s shit list,” Elias said, breaking the tense silence, as soon as they were some distance away from the mansion.
“Maybe that’s for the best,” Madalena said, looking troubled. “I don’t know who in the Alliance we can trust now.”
“This is just what Genevieve wanted,” Naomi said, shaking her head. “It looks like I murdered Camille, then Blaize, and fled. Now the Alliance will focus on looking for us, not Genevieve.”
“We can make this right,” Alaric assured her, though he had no idea how. Naomi was right; they were now guilty fugitives in the Alliance’s eyes.
“We should stay in the city for now. They’ll be on the lookout at airports.”
“There are cabins in a town called Skykomish, about two hours from here,” Naomi said. “They’re not in use this time of year. It’s a good place to hide for now.”
When they arrived in Skykomish, a town nestled within a massive national forest, they found a cluster of cabins on the edge of town, all empty. They chose the most isolated one, and after the witches surrounded it with several Cloaking spells, their group filed in.
But Alaric lingered behind, taking Naomi’s hand. She stepped into the circle of his arms, and they just held each other. There hadn’t been time for a proper reunion back at the mansion; this was their chance. They didn’t need words. He could feel the emotions that flowed between their bond as he held her; love, lingering fear, and relief.
“Did Isobel hurt you?” he asked, as they broke apart. He’d noticed the slight bruising on her throat during the drive, and a renewed surge of anger filled him.
“A little,” Naomi admitted. “Ironically, it was Blaize who saved my life. If he hadn’t come in when he did . . . “ she trailed off, her expression shadowing.
Fear seized him at the thought of what could have been, and his chest tightened.
He kept her close to his side as they entered the cabin. The human owner had left it nearly empty, there was only a couch, a table and a few chairs. Casimir and Madalena settled down on the couch in front of the fireplace, while Elias and Elisabetta headed out to scour the surrounding cabins and forest to ensure they were alone, and to grab food for the witches. It was odd to see Elisabetta with their group, he had to remind himself that she’d helped them save Naomi’s life.
Alaric and Naomi settled into chairs opposite Madalena and Casimir.
“I hate to say this,” Naomi said, “but I don’t think I should use a Locator spell to locate Genevieve. It’s too risky.”
“You may be right,” Madalena said, “we’ll have to use what we can find through other methods.”
“All I know for sure is that Genevieve’s murders aren’t connected to the Order murders,” Casimir said. “I’ve found similar murders in London, Paris, New York, and here. Her victims appear to be random targets. All human. It’s what I suspected. She’s using their deaths as sacrifices to make the Destruction spell stronger.”
Naomi lifted her hand, silently summoning her bag. It sailed to her from the back of the cabin. She dug into it, unearthing her mother’s grimoire. She opened it to a bookmarked page and handed it to Madalena.
“What does the Destruction spell do? You said they cause disease and death.”
“It depends on which ones she uses,” Madalena said. “There are several spells to choose from. One begins with a quake, and in its aftermath unleashes a plague that will only affect humans and vampires. Another causes plagues, another causes an earthquake. Regardless of which spell is used, the effects are the same; millions will be left dead in its wake.”
“And to stop it?” Naomi pressed.
“The counter spells you’ve memorized. Casimir and I have them memorized as well. But the spells will react better to you performing them, you’re stronger than both of us. And you’d have to cast them almost immediately after Genevieve performs the Destruction spell—hours at the latest. Otherwise . . . its effects will be permanent.”
Alaric studied Naomi as she stilled. She was aware it would ultimately fall on her shoulders to stop it, and a rush of worry and sympathy filled him. He hated that so much had to fall on her.
“We have to find Genevieve before we can stop anything. I’m going to work on tracking Isobel,” Casimir said. “If she meets up with Genevieve, or contacts her, that could be our best way of getting to her.”
Casimir stood, taking his laptop with him into one of the bedrooms, leaving him alone with Naomi and Madalena.
“I still can’t believe Isobel’s working against us,” Madalena murmured. “She seemed so committed to witches and vampires living in peace. I trusted her. Now . . . I feel like a fool.”
“You couldn’t have known. What’s important is that we know now who the traitor is,” Naomi assured her. She hesitated, before continuing, “Isobel told me that witches are dying out. Raphael said something similar. Is that true?”
“Less pureblood witches are being born, but that doesn’t mean we’re dying out,” Madalena said, with a look of annoyance. “It’s a prejudiced way of thinking. Many witches are born every day—to witch and human parents, or to vampire and witch parents.”
Naomi met his eyes, and Alaric knew they were thinking about the same thing: the look of fury in Genevieve’s expression as she castigated Naomi for mating with him. A surge of fury rose in his gut; he was even more determined to destroy her, and the Order, and anyone else determined to keep them apart.
“I keep thinking about my father; how devastated he’d be,” Madalena continued, blinking back tears. “He always told me the Alliance was the one link witches and vampires had to peace. I hope we’re not on the precipice of something.”
“Like what?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.
“Another war,” Madalena said, after a long pause.
&nb
sp; At his side, Naomi went still. Living in the human world her whole life, she’d been unaware of the long and torrid history of witches and vampires, how much they’d fought prior to the formation of the Alliance, and the uneasy tension that still existed between the two. Things had been relatively peaceful until the birth of the Order. Now, with the addition of rogue witches like Genevieve, it did seem like peace was precarious.
“The majority of witches and vampires do want peace,” he said, mostly to reassure himself. “I doubt most of the Alliance has turned like Isobel, otherwise Naomi wouldn’t be sitting here with us now. We just need to focus on stopping Genevieve.”
He reached out to give Madalena’s shoulder a brief squeeze before getting to his feet. He was reluctant to leave Naomi’s side for even a moment, but he needed to hunt. He hadn’t fed for some time and he needed his optimal strength; danger was ever present these days.
Leaving through the back patio door, he used his speed to race into the forest, letting his worries melt away as he receded to the most primal part of himself; the hunter seeking its prey.
A couple of hours later he returned to the cabin, his face flushed and body warm from his intake of animal blood. As he approached the back door, he saw Elisabetta standing just outside it, looking deep in thought as she gazed out at the forest. He hesitated before approaching.
She stiffened as he drew near. He couldn’t blame her; he’d been nothing but hostile. Alaric held up his hands to show he came in peace.
“I wanted to thank you,” he said grudgingly. “For helping us rescue Naomi. And apologize.”
“For threatening to kill me after I offered my help?” Elisabetta asked, arching a brow. “Or accosting me in London just to threaten me?”
“You can’t blame me for being suspicious,” he said. “When I knew you before, you were—“
“I know what I was,” Elisabetta said, and he saw a flicker of regret dart across her face.
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