by K. A. Tucker
Then the man turned the gun on me.
Luckily I was ready.
And I was faster.
Flying forward, I shoved the gun upward as his finger tugged the trigger, sending the bullet through his chin and into his skull. His body dropped to the ground in a heap, and his heart stopped beating a few seconds later. Yanking his limp hand, I immediately spotted the telltale tattoo of the People’s Sentinel—an angled cross—on the meaty part of his thumb.
Lilly was right. They truly had infiltrated everything. And this one had clearly been spelled by the witches to resist compulsion. Dammit! I knew it was possible because I’d already faced it several times, but this time there were no signs, no warnings. The witches had somehow advanced their spell! As if we didn’t have enough to deal with already.
Caden’s growl stole all other concerns from me. “I won’t heal!” He pushed out through clenched teeth, on his knees, his hand pressed against his chest.
“Shit,” I cursed, dropping down to meet him eye to eye. Viggo had been kind enough to ram a wooden stake through my heart more than once so I knew how painful this was. One of the bullets must’ve lodged itself in Caden’s heart. The Fates had designed our kind so strangely. Our hearts no longer beat, no longer sustained our lives, and yet we needed them wholly intact to function.
Footsteps pounded down the stairs in the distance. We’d have countless witnesses to deal with soon, which would lead to countless bodies. I’d hoped to avoid that. We needed to get out of here and I didn’t have time for finesse. “Okay, hold still. This may hurt.” Caden fought with gritted teeth to hold his scream in as my magical coils penetrated his chest, coiling around the bullet. Sure enough, it was lodged in his ventricle. I gave it a sharp tug, tearing through walls of muscles and bones and lungs and skin until the bullet clanked onto the dusty concrete.
I lost myself staring at it for a split second. What if that had been a “special gun,” like the one that Mage had described, the kind that used explosive bullets specially designed to kill our kind? Caden would be dead! We hadn’t been in the city for an hour and I’d have to go back to the mines and tell Evangeline that, after all that she’d been through, I’d gotten him killed. And for what? A bag of merth?
But he wasn’t dead, I reminded myself, pushing the nausea away.
He would be fine in seconds. Knowing that, I left him to heal and ran into the vault, to the corner where the ventilation system hid a small canvas knapsack. I knew it was there without seeing it. I could feel the tingle deep within my core, the warning of danger. Tearing off the grate, I reached in. The bag tumbled down through the small space. I sighed with relief.
And followed the sigh with a slack-jawed stare.
A necklace—a chain with a smooth black heart-shaped stone—hung knotted around the strap.
The prickles on my neck spiked. My sixth sense for a special kind of evil.
Viggo had been here. And he’d been here since the attack.
He must’ve known where the merth was and he obviously knew that I would come for it. How, I was afraid to guess. But, he knew. And he wanted me to know that he was a step ahead of me, that he was near.
And that he was still a real threat.
“We have to go!” Caden called out urgently, his voice strong once again.
Remembering Mage’s warning, I yanked the chain until it broke and covertly tucked the necklace into my pocket, then turned around.
“Drop the bag. Hands above your head!” a soldier yelled. I heard the safety kick off his gun, followed by a chorus of four more as several soldiers slid cautiously through the doorway to position themselves along the wall, all pointing heavy-duty weapons at our chests. My stomach tightened. These had to be the guns Mage was referring to. I instinctively scanned their hands. Two more Sentinel tattoos stared back at me.
There was no point compelling them, and we were in danger if we didn’t get out of here.
“We have what we need,” I said quietly, directed at Caden, hoping he’d understand.
His almost imperceptible nod told me that he did, thankfully.
We vanished up and out of what was once our asylum, a chain of explosions into an empty blood vault chasing us the entire way.
*
“All that for merth? Why the hell would you want that toxic weed, anyway?” Kait screeched, cowering away from Caden as he looped his arms through the canvas knapsack. His wince told me that he could feel the sting, though it wasn’t enough to overtake him.
“Because it’s the last of it in this world and we may have use for it in the future,” I said, shaking my head at the garish vampiress, her bright orange painted lips glowing in the darkness. So typical of our kind. We were at the top of the food chain and would rid the world of anything that might threaten that position. Ignoring her further mutters of discord, I focused my attention on Caden. “Are you okay with that? I’d carry it but it can leach my magic, and we need that right now.”
“I’m fine.” He grimaced. “For now.”
Giving his shoulder a pat, I stepped over to the edge to watch the latest excitement. More police had been called in to guard the perimeter and several new military trucks rolled in. We had no reason to go back in now, though.
“What happened in there?” Lilly asked.
“You were right—the Sentinel is everywhere. We can no longer trust our powers to compel,” I muttered, not really answering her question. “I’m going to kill every last witch on this planet, if it’s the last thing I do.” They were the catalysts for this human revolt, giving them power they otherwise wouldn’t have. If the humans would just live in ignorant bliss, we wouldn’t be dealing with this.
The witches would never be satisfied. Ironic, given it was their causal enchantment—their need for immortality and youth and beauty—that created vampires to begin with.
If I killed the witches, this human army would lose much of its protection and intelligence. They would fade into the background and, after eliminating a few key leaders and letting generations pass, we could hope they would disappear forever.
Of course, the Fates would not approve of this, I was sure. Without witches, there would be no causal enchantments cast. Without causal enchantments, the Fates had no permission to meddle in our world, no reach to wreak havoc. I’d learned that from my brief encounter with them and I fully intended to use it.
I would never cast a causal enchantment again.
“Any sign of Viggo?” Mortimer called out.
Not trusting myself to speak, I shook my head no, unable to keep my gaze from flittering to Mage. She was watching me. Lying was the right thing to do and yet I dreamed of the day that honesty would take over. I’d been surviving in this web for far too long.
“I suppose that’s good.” Mortimer closed the distance to tower beside me.
I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “Where do you suppose he is right now?” That sixth sense hadn’t faded since the blood vault. I presumed that it had to do with the quarter-sized pendant tucked within my pocket, suddenly as heavy as a boulder. It wasn’t that I didn’t expect to face Viggo again. It was that I hadn’t expected it this soon. And I wasn’t one hundred percent sure how to interpret the meaning of the pendant left there. Was his plan to elicit fear?
Mortimer’s mouth twisted. “If this were the calm and unruffled Viggo, then I’d suspect he was already halfway across the world, biding his time.” The calm and unruffled Viggo had patience that could rival a Tibetan monk. He would wait years, decades, even centuries, to get what he wanted.
But we both knew that we no longer had that version. We had the one who had lost Veronique’s heart, who had been outsmarted by a human, and who would be desperate for revenge. On Mortimer, on Mage, on the world.
War or not, I knew that I wouldn’t rest until Viggo was dead. I wish I’d incinerated him. He’d vanished the second his hands left Evangeline’s neck, before her body crumbled to the cobblestone, before I had a chance.
“
Why?” I felt Mortimer’s penetrating brown eyes settle on me and I knew I had stepped onto very thin ice, asking about our adversary.
“Just strategizing. But, let’s focus on the immediate task. Jonah.” Calling on my magic, I quickly recreated my simple tracking spell that had served us so well in finding Jonah the first time. If we could find him and his horde, we could be done with this quickly. I held the glowing purple bracelets out. Looking for multiple deaths would logically—in my spell-casting mind anyway—require multiple blood sources. “I need you all for this one.” We couldn’t waste our time with one-offs right now; we needed to find places where large groups were attacking.
A screeching metal sound filled the air—Caden and Bishop, tearing strips off a nearby solar panel. They handed them out. Those who knew what I needed from previous experience—Mage’s and Evangeline’s friends—slit their palms and held their hands above the magic coils, blood droplets splattering down.
“More! I need more!” I demanded, looking to Mortimer and the others, who quickly followed suit.
I set loose twenty tracking rings and slipped the sister links over my wrist. Leaning against a half wall, I settled in to wait for an alert, my arm a sleeve of glow-in-the-dark bangles.
We waited in silence.
And waited.
And again, my mind wandered, not to the witches or Jonah or the sanity of this plan, but to Viggo. What exactly was he up to, so boldly warning me? What was his plan of attack going to be? I didn’t doubt for a second that he had one and that it would be malicious in intent and vicious in delivery.
Could he be watching us right now? My eyes roamed over the surrounding rooftops and shadows. If he could see Caden or me right now, would he know that Evangeline wasn’t dead? He was certainly smart enough to realize that neither of us would care about a war if he had succeeded in killing her.
Mage sidled up to me. “Something caught your attention?” The woman could read me like a book. Maybe she’d been lying all along and could tap into all of our heads, reading our thoughts.
“Just my fears. Keep your eyes peeled.”
“Any chance your magic is going to be useful sometime soon?” Galen muttered, less than five minutes later. The scowl hadn’t left his face since the mines, deepening whenever his eyes drifted in my direction. If I had to guess, he was bitter with me for forcing him to leave Cecile in a pool of her own vomit.
I felt pity for him. Still, I couldn’t keep the sneer from my lip, ready to show him just how useful my magic was at inflicting pain to insolent bastards.
If not for the sudden burst of purple light flashing from my wrist, I might have.
It was time.
“Follow me.”
Like ghosts, we passed through the streets at inhuman speeds, the call from the bracelet growing stronger with each block. When we rounded a corner to see people screaming from a boutique hotel, we knew we’d found our first battle site.
Chapter Three – Evangeline
“Was I like this?” I leaned against the tunnel wall, Max’s head resting on my lap, my attention riveted to the woman and man who lay motionless about ten feet away. Earlier, when Caden had led me out to them before leaving for New York City, they were already covered in puke. Much to my relief, Caden confirmed that I had missed the actual vomiting part of the transformation phase.
No, you were different.
“Of course I was.” Why did I always have to be different? “Is this normal?” Aside from some beads of sweat, I’d seen nothing to indicate that they were even alive. I certainly sensed no heartbeat.
From what I’ve seen, yes. Though, I’ve only watched this transformation a handful of times. Well, a paw-ful, Max’s deep voice rumbled inside my head, followed by that odd snorting sound that meant he was laughing.
His tacky joke made me smile and earned him an ear scratch.
“Didn’t Mortimer turn anyone before he lost the ability?”
In case you hadn’t noticed, Mortimer generally despises everyone. He wasn’t keen on creating fledglings. Said he was afraid they’d hang off him like glue.
“Hmm … I guess that makes sense,” I said as he leaned into my hand. “Hey, I thought you didn’t like being scratched like this.” Max may once have been a dog but he’s been this giant three-hundred-pound werebeast for almost four hundred years. He took offense to all comments and gestures that alluded to him still being a dog.
I suppose a few ear scratches are fine.
I could always rely on Max’s droll sense of humor. “What do you think is wrong with me?”
You mean besides the new color of your eyes?
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
I take it Caden didn’t mention it, he muttered. Sure, leave it to good ol’ Max to break the news. Why not?
I sat up straight. “Break the news about what, Max?” When he didn’t answer, I grabbed hold of one of his ears and yanked.
He grunted in pain. They may be more yellow than brown, okay?
I let go. “May be? How much more yellow? What do you mean, yellow …” Panic bubbled up. “Like Rachel’s eyes?” It seemed an eternity had passed since I last had to face that viper.
I wouldn’t say as scary as that.
His words offered zero comfort. “But they’re bad? You’re telling me they’re bad. I’m supposed to wake up beautiful and instead they gave me yellow snake eyes. Why would the Fates do that to me?” I banged my fist against the dirty stone floor.
They’re not bad. They’re just different.
I searched for a smart-ass remark, but a change in Cecile instantly pulled my thoughts away from ugly yellow eyes. “Do you see that?” I whispered excitedly. In awe, I watched as the two puncture wounds on the side of her neck, where Mage had injected her venom, began to shrink until nothing but a hint of dried blood remained. Other things changed as well. The ends of her frizzy blond hair smoothed into shiny waves, as if she’d spent hours in a salon. A small scar near her left earlobe vanished; her splotchy complexion smoothed to a porcelain finish. Even her body, already slender, seemed to fill out slightly.
Cecile’s going to wake up first, Max informed me. When she does, pierce that blood bag and shove it into her face. We may as well get them feeding right away. Saves us from having to chase them down.
I was completely enthralled, watching her transformation. My eyes darted back and forth between her and the unconscious man—Brian, I remembered Kait calling him—a man in his forties with salt-and-pepper hair. He was moving through his final stage as well.
Finally, Cecile’s eyelids fluttered open, revealing bright cornflower blue irises.
Break the bag now, Max instructed.
I listened, stabbing my thumb through the plastic. I tried to staunch the blood flow. With the blood shortage, we couldn’t waste a drop.
A second passed and Cecile was on her feet, her wide eyes taking in our primitive surroundings. She finally looked at me, quickly zoning in on the bag in my hand.
Her nostrils flared.
I tossed the bag to her feet just as those pretty eyes began to morph, as her lip curled back into a vicious sneer. She dropped to her knees, teeth sinking into the fluid. Yet again, the difference between the other fledglings and me was becoming more and more apparent.
Had the Fates made me the village idiot of fledglings?
So focused on Cecile, I hadn’t noticed that Brian had regained consciousness until he was already on his feet, his cognac-colored eyes morphing with the reaction to human blood.
Bag! Now! Max ordered.
I tossed it and Brian caught it midair, biting down until crimson spurted out the sides.
“What now?” I mumbled quietly to Max.
Grab the crate of blood and start moving toward the haulage tunnel. We need to lead them there.
Like dogs following a trail of treats, we led them back to the makeshift feeding space, tossing blood bags on the ground. Veronique and Julian remained exactly as we’d left them, cowering o
ver their coolers. My entrance didn’t even earn a glance.
I understood now what Sofie meant. They were sitting ducks. I could probably pour gasoline all over them and light a match before they noticed.
A heavy sense of loss lingered inside. When would I get the old Julian back? Caden mentioned he’d snap out of it in a few days but what about after that? From what they’d told me, Julian wouldn’t be the friend I so cherished for a long time. Years, probably.
Uh, Evangeline? That was the only warning I got before low growls erupted behind me. I turned in time to see Brian and Cecile bolt toward Julian, their hands reaching to dive in. Apparently, the threat of having to share his blood supply was enough to momentarily break Julian’s trance.
Oh, this is not good, Max declared as Julian, Cecile, and Brian faced off. Veronique watched warily from her corner but continued to feed, her fingers flexing as if readying herself for an attack.
“No shit,” I said, rushing to the industrial-sized fridge. One container of bags remained. “What do I do?”
Split the container into two piles and set them out on the floor, farther away.
Following Max’s instructions, I retrieved the blood bags and dumped them in two piles on the other side of the tunnel. “Over here!” I announced.
In answer, Julian grabbed Brian by his shirt and launched him across the tunnel to land by my feet. Cecile followed closely. The two scrambled to their respective piles and we once again had peace.
I edged over to stand next to Max. “That was close.”
I’ll bet you’re happy to be an anomaly right about now, Max said.
“Aren’t you?” I retorted, though I mulled over his choice of word. Anomaly. Is that what I was?
Max snorted in answer.
“Isn’t this blood getting to you?”
I prefer the kill.
“Well, thank God for that because we wouldn’t have enough blood for everyone,” I said, pausing. “They’re going through it fast, though.”
