The ignisvisum would allow me to view the events, and my clairaudience would allow me to hear the thoughts of the elemental beings inside. Of course, in this case, I would immediately return the memories so that the fire would not steal them and leave them lost forever.
Everything the ignisvisum revealed I would then filter to Charles and Adrian through the remote headset. It was a plan that promised nothing.
I ran through my opening rites until a protective barrier was visibly in place. Spirits floated near, some cupping their hands over the bubble of whitish membrane to stare and howl. Their coal-black eyes made my skin crawl, but they were the least of my worries.
I took the tin bowl from my bag and filled it with cedar chips. I fumbled to strike a match. On my fourth attempt, the tip ignited, and I set fire to the wood. I relaxed my stare on the haze above the embers, mouthing the words to conjure the images. The charred cedar, burning beneath the translucent screen, broke up the vision a few times. I waited until I gained my focus to put on the headset.
“I see you,” I said into my mouthpiece.
What I actually saw was Adrian’s vision of Charles and Charles’ vision of Adrian displayed split screen on the ignisvisum projection. Trying to follow both would have drained my energy too quickly, so I focused on Adrian’s vision, hoping to keep my sights on Charles as much as possible.
We’re going in now, Charles thought toward me.
They entered a mausoleum’s austere double doors and squeezed around a makeshift table made of cement blocks and boards of unfinished wood. Partially-melted candles and puddles of stiff wax scattered the workspace.
Charles and Adrian hurried to the back of the darkened room, where Adrian tilted a large plank to the side and stepped through into a small, dirt-packed tunnel supported by wooden beams.
The narrow passage led to another door, but Adrian didn’t try to open this one. He lowered onto one knee and swept away the soil with his hand to reveal a wooden trap door. This particular entrance was never locked as only Maltorim members knew of it. I found it odd the place wasn’t under camera surveillance, but I guess when you’re as powerful as the Maltorim, no one dares break into your premises.
Adrian opened the trap door, placed one hand on either side, and eased down. Charles followed. Stone walls surrounded them, a dark slate floor with water stains beneath their feet as they crept through the underground maze. I could almost feel the dank moisture of the corridors.
The creak and jangle of the cemetery’s front gate, racketed by the surrounding spirits, threatened to distract me from my clairaudience, but I focused until the sounds of the real world muted from my ears.
I opened my mind to all nearby elemental activity. I released the thoughts closest to me—the spirits swirling in the darkness outside my protective barrier. One by one, I zeroed out other connections, using Charles and Adrian as markers to determine the placements of the minds I invaded.
It took some effort, but I targeted the thoughts registering closest to Charles and Adrian. The farther they lurked into the dark passages of the mausoleum, the more the new connections grew in clarity.
About three-quarters of the way down the hall, Charles and Adrian paused, half-crouched, looking at each other. Their lips weren’t moving, but their wordless communication was amazingly accurate. They pressed against opposite walls and slinked to the opening at the end of the hall.
Two guards awaited out of view. Only another Cruor could sneak up on their kind undetected.
“Left guard is half asleep,” I said. “Right guard is preoccupied.”
Charles and Adrian whipped around the corner and snapped the necks of both guards. The crack of vertebrae echoed in my mind, and my stomach churned.
How could they kill as though it was nothing? Had there been no better alternative?
My emotions interfered with my signal, and the image rippled, my instincts wanting to block what I’d seen. Pushing aside my fears, I stared at the large hallway the ignisvisum displayed.
Charles and Adrian reached a set of arched wooden fortress doors, and I located the thought waves of the people on the other side. Based on the thoughts contained there, I imagined the occupants were engaged in light, candid chatter.
“Five inside,” I said.
Adrian and Charles crept past the door, heading down the final corridor that would lead to the Liettes.
I released the people in the other room from my clairaudience and sent my mind out to pick up fresh connections.
Immediately, another presence materialized.
This was the last connection I’d expected to make. This was the last person any of us expected to see here. I tried to find my voice, but Charles and Adrian spun around before I could succeed.
{twenty-six}
THE IGNISVISUM SHARPENED to the point I wasn’t sure if the visions were still in my bowl or playing right in my mind.
I shook my head, but Thalia remained in the vision, her hands poised on her hips, her charcoal sweater contrasting with her glowing violet eyes. My stomach felt pinched—stuck between the gears of a turning clock. If Thalia was here, Circe wasn’t far. But I couldn’t place her, and I couldn’t risk dropping any connections to seek her out. I only hoped she wasn’t on her way to find me.
My connection to Adrian intensified, my own thoughts seeping into the background as Thalia strutted toward them.
She clicked her teeth. “Hello, Charlie.”
The clarity of her spoken words stunned me. It was as though I were there—as though I’d reached beyond my clairaudience. Bitter saliva pooled on my tongue, tasting as I imagined the dank air of the stone passages must.
Thalia’s gaze flicked to Adrian, but he only received her passing attention. She already had her sights back on Charles.
Charles’ jaw clenched. “What are you doing here?”
“You’re smart enough to figure that out, no? You fooled me for so long. Thought you were so clever. So tell me—what do you think I’m doing here?”
“Nothing good.” Rage tightened in his chest, the rasp of a beast rattling inside and waiting to break free. All these things were alive in me, too, because of our blood bond and the mental connection we now shared.
Thalia took him in with a smile. “Tsk, tsk, Charlie. I’ve broken no laws. You, on the other hand . . . ”
His gaze panned the dimly lit halls. They’d been empty—a route for escape—but now other Cruor lurked in the shadows where only the edges of light from the wall sconces gave away their movement.
With a snap of Thalia’s fingers, four guards approached, dressed as Continental Artillery: dark blue jackets faced with scarlet, tan trousers tucked into white socks, and black-buckled, square-toed shoes. But their build was much too large for the late 17th century. Thalia mused at their being dressed in these replica uniforms, all to appease the Maltorim’s Queen—Callista.
At the lapse in Thalia’s attention, Charles lunged for her. Two guards yanked him back, restraining him before he made contact. The other two secured Adrian, who resigned immediately, though Charles tried to pull away. The tallest guard kicked him behind the knee, the force dropping him to the ground.
Thalia, seemingly unaffected, waved her hand, and the guards lifted Charles back to his feet.
He lowered his chin to his chest. Leave, Sophia.
Thalia’s face hovered right beside his, and she flicked her tongue against his cheek. “You do taste funny.”
I wiped away the moisture above my lip, but my body was still damp, sweat trickling down my back like tiny bugs fleeing from Thalia’s scathing tone.
Charles recoiled from her touch. “What they are doing here is wrong. Why would you get involved?”
“Wrong, Charlie?” She laughed, snatching the earpiece from his and Adrian’s ears. She plunked them into the open hand of one of the guards. “Little hypocrite. All these years with your ‘We can’t hunt humans, it’s the law’ bullshit. Now here I am, abiding these precious laws, and you condem
n me?” She arched an eyebrow, her face frozen as if stapled into place.
Charles gritted his teeth. “The law against dual-breeds is centuries old.”
“Boo hoo. The laws are not there for your convenience, Charlie. You don’t get to pick and choose.” Thalia snapped her gaze toward Adrian. “And you, foolish child—you risk your life for this? He is nothing!”
Adrian’s fangs crunched down and his face contorted with a snarl. “You’re no more than a deadbeat tracker who didn’t meet the mark to join the Maltorim.”
Thalia’s eerie smile slipped for a fraction of a second as she cracked Adrian across the jaw. My own face stung slightly from the phantom impact, and I lifted a hand to my cheek.
“We’ll see who makes the Maltorim.”
She spun on her heel and began to walk away. After a few steps, she stopped and called over her shoulder to the guards. “
Take them to holding. I’m off to have a little chat with the Queen.”
She threw her hand up in dismissal, not bothering to so much as glance back as she strode down the corridor. Her thoughts raced too quickly for me to make sense of them.
I used Adrian as a marker and catalyst into her visions. The ignisvisum scratched her sights through Adrian’s. I tried splitting the views, but without success.
I had to choose.
THALIA’S HEELS CLICKED down the corridor. The dying torchlight flickered, tossing odd shadows along the floor. The passage reminded me of the entrance to Club Flesh, but the water leaking through the stone walls gave the asylum a more ominous vibe.
Murmurs bled through the archaic doors as Thalia dolefully smoothed her slacks. She knocked. As she lifted her hand to knock again, the door creaked opened and the shadow of a small woman appeared in the doorway.
“Queen Callista,” Thalia said with a small bow.
The Queen stepped forward, and Thalia worked through her discomfort to hold eye contact. Sure, Callista could kill her for any small infraction, but she needed to be regarded as an equal—as one worthy of the Maltorim.
Callista’s bone-thin figure jutted from the dark room, and she hummed a quiet, offbeat tune under her breath. My heart, affected by her eerie lullaby, stuttered. She tilted her head up, her nose a delicate slope, her robes clinging to her small breasts, her alabaster skin glinting beneath the hall light.
She was only a girl, stuck somewhere between youth and womanhood. Fifteen, perhaps, but an ageless fifteen, and with eyes that seemed much older. Eyes that haunted me, staring so intently into Thalia’s that I felt as though she were looking right through her to me.
“Thalia.” The name dripped from the Queen’s tongue like venom from a serpent’s fang.
Black opium incense burned Thalia’s nostrils, and she struggled not to wrinkle her nose. “I’ve apprehended Charles Liette and his companion . . . Adrian.”
“I am aware.” Callista swept her almost-white hair in front of her shoulder and began loosely braiding. She stared at the ends of her braid, fanning the hair out. When she looked back up to see Thalia still standing there, she released a bored sigh and folded her arms across her chest. “Well?”
Thalia expected an invitation into the room. A long moment passed, Thalia’s smile faltering under Callista’s glare. “I had come to inform you of their arrival and capture, my Queen.”
Callista tapped her foot, and she huffed. “Did you believe we were unaware of their presence?”
“Not at all. I mean . . . ” Thalia’s weight shifted from one foot to the other. Of course the Queen had been unaware. If she’d been aware, she would have sent out her guards to capture Adrian and Charles. “I only meant—they were alone. In the hall near the holding cells. I tracked them.”
“I would hardly call what you do tracking. Now, if you please”—Callista began to shut the door—“I must return to more pressing matters.”
Thalia shot out a hand to stop the door from closing. Her cheeks and forehead cooled, a stony mask of dignity freezing her face. Callista was going to listen.
“There is someone else, too,” Thalia said. “A spirit elemental.”
My heartbeat roared in my ears. How could Thalia possibly know? I inhaled slowly through my nose, trying to slow my vitals as to not drown out the thoughts I invaded. I needed to hear their plan if I was to take action wisely.
Callista stepped aside, sweeping her arm in invitation. “Fine,” she said in a measured tone. “Come in.”
The lights brightened, and Thalia’s eyes widened at the polished marble flooring. Golden light reflected off the floors and highlighted the papered walls: sanguine panels with gold-leaf designs. A grandiose crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. Parlor chairs with scrolled legs and deep-buttoned chaise lounges upholstered with deep red and royal blue velvet adorned the room, barely clad men and women sprawled on their cushions.
Thalia made a contrived effort to conceal her amazement—oh, how she coveted each item, how she envied the very air the Queen breathed. She returned her gaze to Callista, but the Queen quickly turned and glided over to four young men who stood at attention.
They were the elders of the Maltorim, each in their early teens, some appearing even younger than the Queen. All shared the same pallid skin and coal black eyes and dressed in the same draping black robes with wide sleeves. Callista indicated a parlor chair, but Thalia remained standing.
“Tell me,” Callista said, still facing the other Maltorim members. Her body stilled, not even a twitch of a muscle or a sway of her stance. “How do you know this witch you speak of?”
“She found my coterie. She’s been with Charles since at least October.”
“Here it is March,” Callista chided, “and you hadn’t alerted us sooner?”
Thalia rummaged for an excuse—something to cover her selfish ploy to gain a place on the Maltorim, an excuse that would cover how she’d wasted time trying to find a way to personally deliver us to the Queen.
“We didn’t learn until recently,” she finally offered.
Callista growled and spun toward Thalia. “You just told me they have been together since autumn! Why had you not told me when I visited the States?”
Thalia bowed slightly in effort to soothe Callista. “My Queen, we only recently learned of their true natures. When you visited—in September—we weren’t aware of her then. Once we were, it would have taken too long to wait for one of your trackers to be sent.” The first statement was said in truth, but Thalia was uncertain of her final remark. She hoped to draw attention to herself as a suitable tracker for the Maltorim.
Callista sneered. “So it is then. Where is this girl now?”
“Here, I believe.”
“You believe, or you know? Can you not track her, Thalia?”
“She doesn’t have a real scent, she—”
“What?”
“She has a scent. What I mean is, it’s weak.”
“Everyone’s scent is weak to you,” Callista replied, rolling her eyes.
“No,” Thalia said sharply. “Hers is distinct. Just mild.”
“Distinct?” Callista’s eyebrow rose pointedly.
Thalia steeled herself against the Queen’s words. “Yes, distinct. You know, the way the forever girls are said to smell. Not human, and yet, not immortal, either.”
Had she really been able to tell that much that night in the alley? That would mean she’d known before Charles or me. No wonder she’d said I would be valuable.
“You cannot just toss that around, Thalia. A forever girl.” Callista scoffed. She stared into the distance a moment, then her eyebrows pulled together and she lifted her gaze. “Truly?”
“I am certain,” Thalia said. “I will bring her to you to see for yourself.”
“See that you do not return without her.” She started to pace away, but turned around once more. “Alive, mind you,” she said with a sickly-sweet smile. “I want to meet this . . . witch.”
Thalia bowed briefly. “One more thi
ng, my Queen . . . .”
“Say it.”
“If I bring you this girl, Charles’ fate is mine to decide.”
Callista narrowed her eyes. “Fine. Though you must wait until we have extracted the information necessary to unlock the key.”
Using my clairaudience, I picked up that ‘key’ had meant a person . . . or people. But a fog hung over Callista’s thoughts, and all I could discern were general ideas and fragments of thoughts. Something protected her mind.
Thalia slipped out of the room and closed the door. Her vision panned across the passageways.
Where are you? she thought, and she started down the hall.
{twenty-seven}
I TUCKED THE MATCHBOX in my pocket. My leg muscles stiffened as I ran, the weight of my legs reminding me of my childhood nightmares. I didn’t slow until I reached the mausoleum and crept through the entrance Charles and Adrian had taken earlier.
There was no plan—there was only knowing I couldn’t turn away, that I had to go in.
The passages were colder, bigger, and darker than I expected. I’d seen them through Adrian’s eyes before, his night vision far superior to my own.
Each step grated in my ears, surely as loud as thunder to the Cruor. My breath came short, my pulse hammered in my throat. Would they sense my approach? Thalia was searching for me, and here I was, padding deeper into the asylum, closer to my capture.
The corridors stretched in every direction, the doors sometimes erratic and far apart and other times evenly spaced and cramped together, all of them eroded at the bottom, revealing rust beneath gray paint.
Charles’ voice rang in my head. Go home, Sophia. Please.
The deeper into the passages I traveled, the stronger the voice of his thoughts became. A few feet later, I was too close to determine whether I was moving closer or farther away.
I strode through the stone corridors, holding my breath against the damp air and stench of mold as I followed the path Charles and Adrian had begun. Where had they planned to go from here?
When Darkness Falls - Six Paranormal Novels in One Boxed Set Page 80
