by Dima Zales
“If he’s weak, he can’t oppose us,” the woman says.
“Puny creature!” Claudia roars, her voice so dragony it sends a primal chill down my spine—and I’m not the one her ire is directed at. “Did you just threaten my brother?”
I glance at her.
Nero’s sister looks on the verge of turning full-on scaly.
Did she forget that this giant Colosseum is an illusion? I doubt her dragon form would fit into the room we’re actually in—not to mention, the person she wants to rip apart is safely sitting in Russia.
“We can’t defeat Tartarus without Nero and his kin,” Nostradamus says, perhaps seeing the same danger I do. “We must come to an amicable arrangement.”
“Nero, Claudia,” I whisper under my breath, knowing they can hear me with their dragon senses. “Please play along with what I’m about to say. No reason to start a war.”
I can’t tell if they heard or are likely to listen, but I prepare to speak up anyway—which is not easy, as I’m still shaking from my last bout of public speaking.
With a confidence I don’t feel, I loudly clear my throat and wait for everyone’s attention. “I’m tired of being spoken about as if I’m not here,” I announce when all eyes turn to me. “I, not Nero, nor any of you, decide what I do and whom I fight.”
I look at the woman in the crimson robe challengingly.
Nero takes out his phone, tilts it so that only I can see the screen and types in:
You better have a good plan.
“My parents’ lives are on the line,” I whisper back in a voice so low only he and Claudia should be able to hear.
Hopefully, that non-explanation sufficiently deflects him, as I don't really have a plan. For now, I’m thinking of going along with Nostradamus’s, until/unless something better comes up.
Nero shakes his head, pulls up the text window where he was ordering Eric around, and types in: Get back here. Now.
Eric doesn’t show up.
I wonder what that’s about?
To the Council peeps, I say, “Since I don’t owe anyone any favors, I get whatever I want for my help—and my price will be steep.”
I can see Nostradamus sigh in relief. We must be entering some favorable-from-his-perspective future.
Nero glares at his phone. I get the feeling Eric is in trouble.
“What do you want?” says the tall man representing the Paris Council.
I grin, channeling Lilith. “I want all of the favors Nero owes you to be mine.”
“What?” the St. Petersburg representative exclaims. “Those are worth—”
“Exactly,” I say. “Please don’t interrupt me again.”
Everyone gives the woman an angry stare, and she sits back down. My next demand might make her stand up again.
“I want complete amnesty for my father, Grigori Rasputin,” I say. “Whatever he did to piss off the St. Petersburg Council is to be forgiven and forgotten. I want him to be able to come back to Earth and never have to look over his shoulder.”
Sure enough, the lady leaps to her feet, but before she says anything, a couple of her colleagues whose faces I can’t see walk over and whisper something to her.
“Agreed,” she says grudgingly. “Anything else?”
“I want every Council on Earth to decree that my adoptive parents are never to be harmed or used as leverage against me—on penalty of death.”
“I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say that won’t be an issue,” the Paris representative says, and the other Cognizant mutter their agreement.
“I want full citizenship privileges for Claudia.” I nod at Nero’s sister. “Her Mandate ceremony should be right after mine.”
“I think that can be arranged,” the Paris guy says. “But we may need to vote on it.”
“And I want to be able to do magic again,” I say on a whim. This isn’t something I’m going to insist on, but since I have them all by their shorthairs anyway, why not throw it in?
“What do you mean?” the Russian Council lady asks, her frown deepening.
“Stage conjuring,” I explain. “The New York Council forbade me from doing it, fearing it would expose the Cognizant to the world or gain me unfair powers. What I ask is to be able to do illusions that would be perceived by humans as merely that.” I take out my deck and spring the cards from hand to hand a few times. “Things like this.”
She looks around. Clearly, this request is trickier.
“The Mandate might prevent you from doing such illusions,” Vlad says. “When the New York Council forbade you, it was in part for your own protection.”
“I have an idea for that,” I tell him. “When my Mandate is reapplied, I want to be a Herald, like the late Gaius was. Isn’t that kind of Mandate less restrictive?”
“It is,” Vlad mutters. “That might work.”
“Lastly, I want to be owed a favor from each and every Council member in the world,” I say, deciding to really push my luck. “A written, binding contract that outlines how big a favor it shall be.”
“You drive a hard bargain,” the Russian Council lady says and looks at me with admiration. “This will require a vote. I assume that if the vote goes your way, you’ll be willing to put all this in a binding contract on your end as well?”
“Right after I undergo my Rite,” I say. “I believe the Mandate is a prerequisite when it comes to making such contracts?”
“It is,” she says. “Does anyone have a problem with this deal? Stand up if you oppose it.”
Very few people stand up.
Great. I get my way—for all the good it will do me once Tartarus kills me dead.
“So, it is decided,” Nostradamus says with relief in his voice. “Your Mandate Rite awaits.”
Before either sibling can start a world war, I grab Claudia and Nero by their hands and drag them out of the room.
When we’re outside anyone’s earshot, Nero frees his hand and angrily dials Eric.
“Voicemail,” he mutters and resumes walking. “We’re going to have words, Eric and I.”
“Maybe the Councils knew you might use him to get me away and did something about it?” I say, hurrying to keep up.
“Unlike the two of you who don’t have your Mandates, Eric isn’t outside the law,” Nero says, but he doesn’t sound certain. “In any case, good job de-escalating the hostilities in there.” He darts a careful glance at his sister. “Few on Earth know just how truly dangerous Claudia and I are. If they attacked, you could’ve been hurt in the crossfire.”
“Crossfire,” I repeat, picturing him and Claudia turning, then breathing flames from their giant maws at the hapless Councilors. “Literally.”
Claudia chuckles, and Nero’s lips twitch, but then his expression darkens again. “What is the real plan?” he demands. “Don’t tell me you want to dance to Nostradamus’s tune.”
“Honestly, I don’t have one,” I say. “But you and Claudia killing all the Councilors didn’t seem like a good idea.”
“Then I’ll tell you what we’re going to do.” Nero’s stride lengthens. “As soon as your and Claudia’s Mandate Rites are finished, we will leave this world. Let them try and make demands once we’re among my dragons. They wouldn’t make it past the gate hub.”
Claudia nods approvingly.
“We can’t do that.” I huff as I try to keep up. “What about my parents? What about everyone who works for your fund? Not to mention, the whole human population of Earth?” My hands ball into fists. “Do we need to rehash our earlier argument again?”
He stops, and so do I and Claudia. “How about another plan?” he says. “After the Rite, we join Rasputin on Atlantis.”
I frown. “How is this different from the first plan?”
“It buys us time—in the most literal way possible.” He resumes walking, and we follow. “Given how fast time flows on that world, you can practice your vampire and trickster powers for months before any time passes here on Earth. I can train you
to fight—and, most importantly, you and your father will stockpile enough seer juice to make sure you can see for yourselves if Nostradamus’s so-called plan is indeed the best and only way to defeat Tartarus.”
Right. And you’d have plenty of time to talk me into staying on Atlantis or hiding out on dragon world, is what I don’t say out loud.
If Nero thinks he can convince me to abandon my parents, he’s going to be sorely disappointed.
“That’s a decent plan,” I say grudgingly. “But won’t the Councils mind us leaving just like that? How do they know we plan to return?”
Nero looks at his phone again, then behind us, where the Councilors are.
“Since I can’t reach Eric, I think it best if you both go through the Rite as if nothing has changed,” he says. “You’re also going to sign a contract with people on this Council. We’ll just add clauses to it.”
“Like a ‘no suicide missions’ clause?” I ask. “And ‘unless another seer comes up with a plan that’s better than Nostradamus’s’ clause?”
“Something like that,” Nero says. “With the contract in place, everyone will relax, which is when you and Claudia will say you’re not feeling well—something that’s normal after the Rite. After that, we’ll all go to ‘meet up with a healer,’ but instead, we’ll surreptitiously meet up with Thalia and the limo—or Eric, if he replies to me by then. Then we head straight to the JFK hub and Atlantis from there.”
“It could work,” I say as we enter the familiar torture-chamber-like room with a sacrificial slab in the front—the very one where I suffered through the Rite the first time around.
“It will work,” Nero says darkly. “I’ll make sure it does.”
When he notices the monk dudes fussing around the grim place, he falls silent.
Spotting us, the monks grab me and Claudia by the elbows and drag us into the alcove in the back.
A blood bag, two masks, and two uncomfortable robes hang on golden hooks, waiting for us.
I greedily consume the thoughtfully provided snack, then take my mask—the one with the serene feminine face made from marble. This is the exact one I used the first time. It’s missing eyes and has an extra eyeball in the middle of the forehead. A mask that marks me as a seer.
Claudia’s mask is blander. I guess they don’t know what kind of Cognizant to designate her as.
I press the mask to my face, and like the last time, I can see through it thanks to the tiny holes someone drilled in the eye area.
“This will hurt,” I tell Claudia as I begin to strip. “And it’ll hurt you more than it will hurt me—the more power you have, the harder it is when the Mandate magic interweaves with yours.”
“I’m not afraid,” Claudia says and slips off her dress to reveal a body that human models would sell their souls for. “Sounds more like an adventure.”
“They might offer you a Mentor,” I say, throwing on the sandpaper-like robe. “Nero will probably take the job—just as he did for me.”
“Like he can teach me anything I don’t already know.” She smirks. “What does it actually feel like to see the auras?”
I do my best to tell her what everyone with the Mandate aura looked like to me before I turned into a vampire, and then she asks what it would be like to break the Mandate.
I explain that I’ve never done it, but that I heard it’s deadly. “My friend Ariel, whom you already met, once tried to say something the Mandate didn’t like. She bled out of everywhere as a result,” I say, shuddering at the memory. “My advice? Get your kicks some other way.”
Claudia grins. “Gotcha. Well, you better go.” She nods at the alcove entrance. “It sounds like everyone’s already here for you.”
“Thanks,” I say. “Dragon ears strike again. Good luck with your Rite.”
“Same to you,” she says and puts on her mask.
I leave the alcove and find that she’s right.
The candles in the torture chamber are festively lit, like the last time, and the New York Council members are sitting on the stone benches, with their creepy masks on. Lucretia, Chester, and Roxy lift their masks and wave at me.
How nice. It’s not just the Council. This time around, I have family here, too.
Colton is performing the ceremony once again. He’s probably the only one who can hold that giant staff for the Rite without looking silly.
“Get on,” he booms. “Try to relax.”
Yeah. Sure. That’s what he said the last time—and then I was in hell.
With great reluctance, I lie down on the slab and open the robe.
Like before, Colton’s staff glows with a circle of magical energy.
“Wait a sec—” I start to say, but he brands me with it before I can finish the sentence.
Until this moment, I think I was blocking the memory of how much this hurt before.
Now it’s violently coming back to me.
My skin doesn’t sizzle where the brand touches it. I almost wish it did. Instead, the agony is internal, and much worse than any burn could be.
It feels like my essence is on fire. Like I am getting violently rearranged into hydrogen, oxygen, carbon, calcium, and phosphorus—and then those atoms are getting smashed back together again.
I convulse on the slab, an inhuman roar coming out of my throat.
My vocal cords rip apart, but my vampire powers repair them right away, allowing me to scream more, which I promptly do.
Blood—either mine or what I drank earlier—spews out of my mouth.
Why haven’t I passed out yet?
The worst of it comes before long—the part where the magical energy overstimulates my nerve endings. It’s the worst agony imaginable, and when the pain reaches a particularly unbearable height, something inside me breaks and I feel like I’m falling.
Yes.
Finally.
With one last vocal-cord-tearing scream, I black out.
Chapter Sixteen
I wake up to silence.
Sitting up, I rub my eyes.
Something about this silence is reassuring, but I don’t know what.
Then I look around.
The bland room doesn’t have any furniture besides my bed, and there are no windows.
Wait a second. The room also smells vaguely of medicine—reminiscent of a nurse’s office or a hospital room.
Oh, crap.
Memories rush back to me—both of the Rite I’ve just undergone, and my vision where Lilith used her sire bond over me to force me to kill Ariel and Felix.
The events in that vision took place here, in this very room.
Thank goodness I made my friends stay on Gomorrah. Avoiding medical establishments was clearly not enough to overcome this future.
This must be the room where they take you to recover after the Rite. In fact, Lucretia even mentioned some recovery room in her texts to me, but it didn’t click that I’d end up there too, or that it might be the room from my vision.
My heart rate skyrockets.
If I’m right about this, I have seconds before Lilith arrives.
Where is Nero?
Come to think of it, where was he in my vision?
Ah, right. Claudia was going to have her Rite after mine. He must be there, watching it or participating in the Mentor selection.
Unless it’s over and he’s on his way here?
Either way, I’m not waiting for him to save me.
I will save myself.
Leaping to my feet, I rush for the gray door with all the speed of a vampire.
Before I reach it, the door breaks into shards.
Hovering a few inches from the ground is Lilith—just as I foresaw.
“Sasha, dear, how are you feeling?” she croons, looking me up and down.
“What are you doing here?” I blurt out—but then instantly realize I said the exact same thing in my vision, so I know what she’ll reply with.
“I’m here to check on you.” Her beatific smile shows off her fa
ngs. “Your well-being is very important to me.”
Yep.
Just what she said in my vision.
If I were to follow the script, I would next accuse her of being behind the chorts’ attack, which would lead her to—and I quote— “stop playing nice mommy.”
By which she means using the sire bond to make me kill Ariel and Felix.
Nope.
I don’t like that script at all.
Even without my friends here, I don’t think I want her to stop being ‘a nice mommy.’ Not if that means she’ll invoke the sire bond and force me to do her bidding.
Much better to play nice and stall until I get an opportunity to escape—or until Nero gets here.
“I got the Council to make me a Herald,” I tell her with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Also, each and every one of them will owe me a favor.”
“That’s great.” Lilith looks around furtively. “Do you mind telling me all about it on the way?”
“On the way?” I look at her as guilelessly as I can. “Where are we going?”
“Long story,” she says. “I’m not exactly welcome in these parts. Are you ready?”
I know that if I say no, she’ll make me go.
Then again, if I seem overeager, she might catch on to my strategy—which also might lead her to use the sire bond.
“You have the gate sword.” She extends her hand. “Please give it back to me.”
Oh, right. The sword I’ve thought of as mine all this time was originally hers.
This is when I also realize that someone dressed me in my own clothes when I was unconscious. Hopefully, that someone was Nero, though I strongly suspect it was actually the monks. The return of my clothing means that the sword is indeed on me—but I really don’t want to part with it, especially if that means it will be in Lilith’s hands once again.
“I’ll let you play with it some more later,” she says reassuringly. “Now give it to me.”
If I don’t, she can make me anyway, is what I tell myself as I hand her the sword.
With an evil grin, she activates it.
Remembering what she did to Nero with that thing, I decide I don’t want him to come here to try and save me, after all.
