Dimitri took the small cup and put it back on the tray. “You won’t get time outside,” he warned.
“Shoot me if you have to. I’m not taking anything.” I met his gaze; It did not haze. Searching, I found that diamond of strength, but when I tried to expand it, nothing happened. I am in a prison.
My eyes drifted to the barred window in the corner of the room. No way would I fit out. And where would I go? The door clanged shut behind Dimitri. I swiped at the blood trickling down my forehead.
I needed to stay strong. It wasn’t possible that all my memories of the few months weren’t real. Was it?
A shudder passed through me, and I closed my eyes, lying back on the bed. I took slow, deep breaths, holding onto that core of strength at the center of me. I may not be able to expand it… but it was there. I wasn’t crazy. My eyes opened. I refused to be crazy.
Chapter Eight
"Thank you for joining us in group today," Issa said. He looked human—brown, dull eyes, streaks of gray in his dark hair. Issa’s shoulders stooped slightly, like a man who worked too hard. He offered me a weary smile.
I stood frozen in the doorway.
"Please have a seat." Issa gestured to one of the six chairs in a semicircle in front of him. Only three others were filled—the two men and one woman wore the same uniform as me: cotton, elastic-waist pants and a loose T-shirt. Like doctors... except patients.
An orderly in all white with a military-style haircut leaned next to a barred window—it faced a brick wall. Homey.
I touched the bandage over my forehead wound in a nervous gesture. The gash was inflicted not by a magical creature, but a book in my own hand… or so I was meant to believe. The nurse had seemed pretty certain about it.
The female patient hugged her knees, feet on the seat of the folding chair, her face hidden behind a curtain of chestnut, curly hair. I sat down next to her. She brushed away the curls and flicked her eyes to me.
Charity? The witch who helped me return to Suki’s world after she threw me out the first time. Maybe she could help me again.
Charity let the hair fall back into place and mumbled something unintelligible.
A chant? Was she trying to break a spell? Was I locked in a spell? Did Seventh Force trap us all in this delusion? Or was it real and all of my memories false?
My stomach flipped, and I drew in a deep breath, trying to calm down. I refuse to be crazy.
"Let's get started," Issa said, glancing at a clock on the wall. "Who wants to begin?”
One of the men—about my height with a sleeve of tattoos that twined around his arm—raised his hand. Issa nodded to him. "I'm sick of being here," he said.
"I hear that you're tired of this place,” Issa mirrored.
"It's a prison," the patient said.
"It feels like a prison to you."
"It is a prison,” the man enunciated, leaning forward.
"Do you say that because you feel guilty about the crime you committed?"
The man shook his head, bringing a hand to his mouth and biting down on already ravaged nails. "I didn't do it," he muttered over his fingers. "I didn't do it." His eyes unfocused as he sat back in the chair.
"What about you, Darling?" Issa asked. "What brought you to group today?"
How to answer that? "I wanted to see if it was you," I said, honestly. A bemused smile played across his lips. "It is, but it's like Dimitri." I went on. "You're you but not you. A weaker version.”
"More human?" Issa said with a smile—as if he’d heard this from me before.
"Entirely human," I answered.
"You still believe I'm a warlock?" he asked, managing not to sound condescending, just curious.
"I don't think you are," I said. "There's an Issa in another dimension who is, or was anyway."
"Was?" Issa raised one eyebrow. There was no sparkle of amusement, just clinical curiosity.
“He’s a vampire now," I said. He nodded, not arguing with me. I leaned forward. "I know you're not a vampire," I said clearly.
"Because I don't have the blue eyes?" He gestured to his face.
“Yes, and you’re stooped, there is gray in your hair, your gaze is dull, tired.” He drew in a slow breath. “And it's daylight.” I gestured to the window.
"How does it make you feel, that I'm not a vampire?" he asked.
“I don’t care. There are as many worlds as possibilities. This is one where you’re a normal human.” I nodded to myself. “Yes, that must be it. When Seventh bit me, she pushed me into a different reality—one where I’m a mental patient.” I smiled. “It’s brilliant really.” But how do I get out?
"So you don't think that the other me is a hallucination?"
"No," I answered. Issa made a hmm sound.
The tattooed man sat forward again, quickly. "I used to be a vampire." He grinned at me. His teeth were yellow, his lips dried and cracked. "That's why I killed him," the man said. "I had to feed. What was I supposed to do?" His body trembled.
“Take a deep breath,” Issa coached the man.
The orderly stepped forward. His muscles tensed, infusing the room with the possibility of violence. “It’s okay, Mitchel,” Issa said, staying the orderly with a small hand gesture.
“How did I get here?" I asked.
Charity shook her head and laughed. "You never remember.” She directed this to me. "You never remember." Her feet hit the ground, and she leaned toward me. “You killed your best friend,” she said the words like she relished them. “You killed Megan Quick.”
I shook my head. “Never.”
“Charity, stop,” Issa said.
“Yes, you did,” she persisted, entering my personal space. I jerked away, standing and almost knocking over the chair.
Charity laughed and leaned back. My heart sped, and I licked my lips. I’d never kill Megan. This was clearly a delusion.
My hands balled into fists. Anger pumped through me. How could she say I hurt Megan? I needed to hurt her.
Charity met my gaze. She gave me a half smile and raised one brow. “What are you going to do, Darling,” she drawled my name—turning it into an insult.
“Calm down, Darling,” Issa said. He was standing, a hand out toward me.
I turned to him. My breath came in heavy pants. Anger pressed at me, trying to force me to do something. Squeezing my eyes shut, I gritted my teeth. “Take a deep breath,” Issa said.
But I couldn’t. I couldn’t breathe!
I opened my eyes, but the room was becoming a tunnel. Spots danced across my vision and the edges darkened further.
Issa jumped forward to catch me as I fell.
“Breathe,” he said again, his voice tight, concern deepening his crow’s feet.
I forced air into my lungs. “That’s it,” Issa said, “keep breathing.”
Charity cackled behind him. “Mitchel,” Issa said to the orderly. “She needs some relaxant.”
“No,” I wheezed, gripping his arm. “Please, no meds.”
He returned his attention to my face, and I took a deep breath, trying to prove he didn’t have to give me a shot. Please don’t dull me.
“That’s good,” he encouraged. “Just breathe.” He sucked in air through his nose, showing me how it was done. Then let it out, bathing me in minty breath tinged with cigarette smoke.
I closed my eyes and consciously relaxed, starting at my feet and moving up my body, releasing the tension from all my muscles until I lay slack in his arms. Issa helped me sit up. “Thank you,” I said.
He smiled. “Anytime.” Issa’s face was close, his lips within reach, and he met my gaze fearlessly. Nothing stirred inside me, no raging hunger, no energy unfurling.
Was this real? A pit opened in my stomach, threatening to pull me in. Could it be that Megan was dead and all the adventures I’d had—all the confidence I’d gained—was an illusion… a delusion?
Peaked stained glass windows threw squares and triangles of colored light onto the stone floor. Pe
ws lined the narrow space. A man sat in the second row, his back to us. My slippers scuffed over the worn wood floor.
I stopped midway to the alter, staring at the colors on the floor. The same as Telescopo. Did I use these colors to create that world? My gaze wandered the incense-scented space. Dust motes hung suspended in the colored sunlight.
“This is the original chapel,” Issa said. “The rest of the hospital was slowly built around it.”
“Are you trying to cement me in a timeline?” I asked.
He didn’t so much chuckle as sigh out a laugh. “You have a lot of experience with mental health practitioners.”
I didn’t answer that. It wasn’t a question. My gaze stayed riveted on an orange square of color. The sound of a pew creaking drew my attention to the only other figure.
The man had shifted to kneeling. His broad shoulders were covered in a black winter coat that looked soft… touchable. He wore a black, knit skullcap. Dark hair curled out from under it, kissing the upturned collar of the coat.
The light shifted, throwing the man into a circle of golden light. I looked up at the decorative window but saw only triangles and squares. Huh?
“Why did you bring me here?” I asked, returning my gaze to the back of the man’s head. Something so familiar about him….
“We’ve talked about your delusions of deities, which probably stem from your foster father being a preacher.”
I stepped forward, drawn to the man.
“I’m hoping to reform your relationship with religion, with faith. It is comforting to many.”
I turned back to Issa, meeting his gaze. Nothing happened.
Issa smiled at me. “What do you feel when you’re in this place?”
Footsteps behind me drew my attention. I turned slowly back toward the altar, like a drunk maneuvering under water. The man had risen from his knees and walked toward me. My breath caught in my throat.
Emmanuel.
Tears blurred my vision, and my legs went weak. I wanted to fall at his feet. To weep at the sight of him.
He wasn’t looking at me. His gaze focused on Issa. Emmanuel stopped in front of us. “Can I help you?” Issa asked, his voice curious.
Emmanuel raised his hand, and Issa crumpled to the floor, his head hitting a pew and leaving a smear of blood. I gasped. Emmanuel’s hand came around my arm. “We don’t have much time,” he said. “Follow my lead. You must reconnect with your power.”
My brain struggled to catch up. Emmanuel wasn’t a delusion… right?
The door of the chapel opened and the big orderly from group, Mitchel, entered. His eyes found Issa on the ground. Mitchel looked to me and Emmanuel. Keeping his focus on me, he started forward.
He unclipped a radio from his waistband and spoke quietly into it.
“Darling,” he addressed me, his voice even. “What happened?”
“Don’t tell him,” Emmanuel said.
“He fell,” I said, the lie coming easy.
Mitchel’s eyes flicked back to the doctor. Emmanuel wrapped his arms around my waist, his chest to my back, energy easing into me. It felt so good. I tried to use it, but all I could do was accept it.
“You’ll have to stop him,” Emmanuel whispered into my ear.
“How?” I asked.
“Don’t let him take you again. You need to escape. There is a door past the altar, on the far side of the curtains.”
“How what?” Mitchel asked, his hands open at his side, as if trying to show me he had no weapons. Emmanuel pulled me, and I stepped backward, moving with him.
“Darling.” Mitchel moved a little faster. He didn’t seem to see Emmanuel at all.
Emmanuel’s lips brushed the back of my neck, and then he was gone. I glanced back to see just empty space. The orderly lunged. I leapt out of his reach, almost slipping.
His fingers brushed my shirt, and I scrambled backward then turned and sprinted for the altar. Mitchel’s footsteps pounded behind me. I jumped onto the small stage and pulled aside the curtain. A door.
I slammed into the exit bar and it fell open. Sunlight blinded me, and I stumbled out into pure light.
Strong hands grabbed my shoulders and yanked me against a large, hard body. I screamed, the yell escaping without conscious thought.
The sound cracked something, and power leached from my center. I gathered the little that I could and forced it into the body that held me. Mitchel stumbled back, letting out a sharp sound of pain.
We were in a cobblestone alley. A breeze carried the scent of fall—decomposing leaves and crisp air. The buildings on either side looked institutional with yellowing white walls and barred windows. The stained glass of the chapel didn’t fit.
Mitchel leaned against the door, propping it open, his eyes wide with shock. “I’m not crazy,” I panted. “I’m trapped. I get that you’re an unwitting participant, but I’ll kill you if I have to.”
Magic simmered around me, and I could see the orderly’s aura. It shimmered with a haze of black. I was starting to scare him.
Could I feed from him?
I stepped closer, and he straightened. “Darling, come back inside.”
I moved in, running my hand up his chest. He grabbed my wrist. I went to bring my other hand to his neck, but he caught that one too. “What are you doing?” he asked. Heat radiated off him. He knew what I wanted.
“Kiss me,” I said.
“That’s not going to happen.” His eyes met mine—brown and long lashed, like a cow…
Raising onto my tiptoes, I reached for his mouth. He arched away from me. Dammit.
Commotion inside the chapel drew my attention. More people were coming. I had to get away now.
Mitchel turned to look back, relief lowering his defenses. When his focus came back to me, I struck—my lips met his and a spark bit into both of us. He winced but did not pull away.
I breathed him in. He moaned low in his throat. Mitchel’s hand released my wrists and dropped to my waist, fingers digging at my clothing, searching for skin.
The door eased shut as he stepped into me, pushing us into the alley. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling his energy to my center.
I found the flaws in him—the humanity, the weakness, and I exploited it. Sucked at it, nibbled it. His body trembled. Don’t take too much. But I couldn’t stop, now that I felt my power again, felt the expansion of it. I was starving.
My back hit the opposite wall. Mitchel bore down on me—desperate to give me everything.
He was yanked away, the trail of energy connecting us stretching thin as two orderlies pulled him back. Mitchel’s eyes were bright—like the dying—sparkling with the light from the other side. I stood, facing the guards who’d come for me.
“Let me go,” I said. “And I won’t hurt you.”
Issa appeared in the doorway, a bloodied cloth pressed to his head. “Darling, please—” I held up my hand, pooling my power there.
I didn’t have enough strength to switch dimension, but I could keep these mortals at bay. One hand out in front of me, the other against the wall behind me, I began to move toward the mouth of the alley. “There is no way out,” Issa said. “You’re in a prison, Darling. All you’ll find that way is fencing and men with guns. Please don’t make them shoot you.”
I paused. Did I have the strength to lift myself up? I pooled my chi at my feet, but it wasn’t enough. I needed to feed more.
Meeting Issa’s gaze, I waited for his eyes to fog. Come on, come on.
He blinked, an expression of confusion crossing his features. Issa took a step forward and then another. The orderlies holding Mitchel glanced at him. “Doctor?” one of them said. A fake diamond glittered in his earlobe.
Issa paused, looked around. The cloth on his forehead was stained with blood. His skin looked ashen in the bright sunlight. His eyes met mine again. Issa took another faltering step.
I pushed off the wall and met him. His mouth opened and energy poured out. “Doctor!” The man wi
th the diamond earring came forward—his aura stained yellow with deceit. This was a bad man, a liar and a cheat. He hurt people and liked it.
I pushed Issa to the side and launched myself at him, my crimson aura sinking into his and dragging the life out of him. He moaned, his hand fisting in my hair, pressing my body close. My shirt rode up and warm fingers gripped my waist.
Power infused me.
He dropped, slipping down my body, unconscious but his heart still beating. I turned back to Issa, energy crackling around me. His jaw hung loose, his eyes wide.
My instincts wanted to take what was left in him. But I refused to kill. Refused to be driven to such desperation.
Pooling my power at my feet, I rose into the air. Issa’s head tilted back as he watched. Mitchel, still supported by the other orderly, craned his neck to see me.
Rising above the roof line, I saw the fencing Issa mentioned—double sets topped with barbed wire. Beyond the hospital boundary a city spread.
My energy drained as I flew.
I needed to feed again soon.
Chapter Nine
The pop of gunfire ricocheted through the bright day. A sharp sting in my leg made me wince. A guard shot me. Damn.
My power unsteady, blood dripping down my leg, I cruised over the fencing. The pain from the bullet wound grew exponentially as I floated over the city, the cloud of chi under my feet thinning.
I searched for an energy source. My chi found humans everywhere, their flawed, beautiful souls just begging to be drained, but I located no supernatural beings. Vampires would all be in their sleeping chambers, and shifters were rare.
My energy seeped away, and I lowered to the ground, floating past golden-leafed trees and landing on a residential street. Townhouses lined the block, their stoops decorated with pumpkins and colorful corn. The sun glinted low on the western horizon. Could I make it until dark?
A car turned onto the block, and I stepped up onto the sidewalk, my left leg growing numb. The vehicle passed me and then, finding an empty parking space, began to parallel park. I moved up the sidewalk, closing in on it like a drunk drawn to a liquor store window.
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