Blood Prophecy

CHAPTER 22



Solange


“I was in love,” Viola said, looking melancholy and defenseless. “Surely I have a right to be happy. Madame Veronique stole that from me.” A single tear trembled on her lower lash before falling down her cheek. “I didn’t even know what she’d done to my beloved Tristan until I was already dead, until there was no hope for us at all.”

I’d feel a lot sorrier for her if she wasn’t such a psychotic bitch.

“What about all those people at Bornebow Hall?” I asked.

“That was . . . an accident.” Her regret seemed genuine, even if it weighed a lot less than her selfish need for Constantine. Her lower lip trembled. “I didn’t know what I was. I woke up covered in blood.”

That part I could almost forgive. If she’d had no idea she was changing, how would she know how to leash the hunger? I was still struggling and I’d had centuries of practice essentially encoded in my DNA. Mind you, I’d been dealing with both of our needs without even realizing it.

“I saw what you did,” I replied steadily. “Even before Veronique was involved.”

“We could be great together,” she said. “We could be queen. Not even our grandmother could stop us.”

“I have no intention of being stuck with you forever,” I told her, the light flaring through my silver cord. It felt like tiny electrical shocks pinging through my belly, like someone was yanking it from the other end. “And how many times do I have to say it? I don’t want to be freaking queen of the freaking vampires.”

“Forget the crown then,” she said, proving that it was secondary to her plans. We’d been right in thinking the crown was just a symbol, something that focused her will. That’s all magic is, in the end. Focused will. I remember Isabeau telling me that once. “I only want Tristan. We deserve a chance to be together.”

“Not more than Kieran and I deserve to be together. Not more than my family and my friends deserve their own happiness.”

Her maiden-in-distress mask crumpled like poorly fired clay. “She took him from me,” she hissed. Bats circled, squeaking. She flicked her fingers, sending them dive-bombing my way. I held up my palm and they stopped as if hitting an invisible wall. If I had to carry her sins, I’d damn well take my compensation with her other gifts. She snarled. “She killed me, did she tell you that?”

“Madame Veronique didn’t tell me anything about you,” I murmured, watching blood pour out of the tree behind her. It trickled through the grass toward her feet, staining the hem of her kirtle. I remembered her walking through the tournament camp looking very similar. “She was ashamed of you and erased your name from our family tree.”

I knew it would enrage her. I’d spent long enough walking through her memories and trapped in her head to know which buttons to push. And Dad always says, if you act in anger you lose the battle.

“I only did what she made me do.”

“My dad has a whole responsibility speech you should hear,” I said. “Only I really don’t want to be here for a second longer.”

“Agreed.” Her hands curled like claws as she closed them around a sword hilt she plucked from one of her knights. The blade was starting to rust, shedding copper-colored flakes. She swung at me and I leaped back, easily avoiding the strike. She wasn’t very good. I parried the next stab and spun around, elbowing her in the face. She howled and swung blindly.

And then I realized she wasn’t trying to run me through.

She was trying to sever the silver cord that linked me to my body, to cut off my only way home.

I blocked another lunge and pushed at her arm so she was forced to continue the movement, angling away from me. I drove the sword hilt into the back of her neck and she stumbled, shrieking. The flowers in her hair were wilting and the fine embroidery was unraveling off her sleeves. Only the pendant stayed polished and perfect, the painted happy couple mocking me with every sway.

I waited for her to spin back around to face me and as it lifted in the air, I swung at it. The sharp blade sliced through the chain. Before the pendant landed, our swords clashed again, viciously and brutally. Bits of iron and rust exploded.

The pendant fell into the grass between us.

For a moment everything faded to shades of gray, as if the pendant had leeched all the color out of the world and kept them for itself. The painted dress, Constantine’s violet eyes, Viola’s red lips.

Her gaze shot to mine, showing real fear for the first time.

We both lunged for it simultaneously. She pulled up abruptly, clotheslining me even as I dove for the pendant. The force of her arm across my throat had me gagging and seeing stars. As I fell, I flipped in midair, slamming the soles of my feet into her chest. We crashed to the ground so hard it trembled under us. Stones toppled from the wall as moss and ivy began to grow between them, pulling apart the mortar. Viola bared her teeth at me as she tried to push up on her elbows, glancing around for help that wasn’t coming. Isabeau had demolished her backup.

But we were still inside her head, and she’d been doing this a lot longer than I had.

“Tristan!”

I hadn’t even pushed up to my knees before Constantine came racing around the other side of the hill, a dozen knights on horseback behind him. Swords and spears stabbed at the sky. Their battle yell reverberated all around.

I tried one last leap for the pendant before I was trampled under hooves. Viola couldn’t get to her feet. She looked as broken as I felt. Instead she wriggled down and tried to kick me in the face. I dodged, but she caught my shoulder and pain shot sparks down my arm. Bats tangled in my hair.

She was really starting to get on my nerves.

My silver cord flared, going from starlight to sunlight and blinding her momentarily. That was something, at least. But not enough.

The knights surrounded us, horses pawing at the ground. Constantine lowered his lance, the wickedly pointed tip aimed at my already bruised throat. His eyes were the same violet color, but without the vampire intensity. His black hair curled over his chain-mail and there were scars on his hands. This was Viola’s Tristan. He wasn’t a vampire yet, just a human knight.

I scrounged in the dirt for my sword hilt, shrinking back from the lance. The sound of blades leaving their scabbards hissed all around me, like poisonous serpents. Viola had her resurrected knights, and her true love. They’d die for her. And they’d cheerfully kill for her. They weren’t even technically real, just figments of her past. Memories.

But in this place, memories could kill.

There was only one other person left whom she couldn’t control, who was as real as I was.

Gwyneth.

She stood in the arch of the gate, the ivy and moss growing wildly behind her, pulling down stones and cracking the walls. Her bare muddy toes dug into the grass and the ground fractured like spiderweb cracks in a windshield.

“You!” Viola snapped, with equal fear and hatred. “It’s not possible. Get her!” she ordered, and half the knights charged Gwyneth, hooves flinging clumps of dirt all over me. In the momentary pause, I managed to grab hold of my sword and blocked Tristan’s lance, shoving it aside. I rolled beyond its range and into the space abandoned by the knight behind me. I landed on the balls of my feet, springing up, sword at the ready. The nearest horse tried to bite me. Constantine’s lance was still between me and the pendant.

“Call the dragon!” Gwyneth yelled to me, as the ground heaved and buckled around her. The knights reined in their horses, pacing side to side, trying to find a way through.

“How?” I yelled back. “This isn’t The Lord of the Rings!”

“Blood to blood,” she said. “Only you can end this now.”

The dragon would serve me. It contained Viola’s memory of Madame Veronique and the entire Drake clan and she feared it because she feared her family.

I didn’t. It was the very source of my strength.

I needed Viola’s blood but I couldn’t get to her, not with Constantine and his knights protecting her. I needed some kind of diversion. I pointed at one of the bats and flicked my hand, directing it at Constantine. The bat dipped low at his head. He ducked, swearing. I sent three more, like a music conductor leading a symphony of bats. His horse shied nervously. I guided the other bats to the other knights, leaving the rest to hover over the pendant in a frantic black cloud when Viola crawled forward. She waved them away and they pinged between us, confused.

Time was running out. Already one of the bats was being skewered by a lance.

I ran to the tree, dragging my hand along the sword blade. Blood sprang to the surface as my cut sliced open. It hurt a lot more than it looked like it did in the movies. I slapped my palm over one of the bleeding gouges in the tree trunk and waited. Viola screamed and ran at me.

And then the dragon tore out of the sky as if it was made of nothing more than glittery indigo tissue paper.

It was just as huge as I remembered, all blue-and-silver scales and ridges on its spine as tall as standing stones. It circled over us, menacing and awe inspiring. Its tail whipped back and forth, creating a powerful wind that flattened the grass. Smoke and sparks streamed out of its nostrils.

Viola made a choking sound as she gave into fear and turned back to scramble up into the saddle behind Constantine. The pendant was still on the ground. The dragon opened its enormous jaws and shot out a ball of fire like a comet. It trailed enough sparks to singe the grass and blacken the stones. The horse reared, panicking.

The knights divided their attention, battling the dragon and Gwyneth, while still trying to protect Viola and keep me from the pendant. The dragon dipped low, tearing his talons over the battlements. One of the smaller towers fell in on itself, already weakened by fire and creeping ivy. The drag from its flapping wings nearly knocked a horse over. The knight went tumbling into the smoldering hay. Gwyneth stayed under the support of the gate archway. She was covered in soot and burns, but looked the happiest I’d ever seen her. She was actually smiling.

The dragon circled back, steam curling out of nostrils the size of caves as it took a deep breath to shoot more fire. This time when the horses bucked, Viola fell off. Constantine steadied his mount before sliding out of the saddle to reach for her.

This was my only chance.

Dragon’s breath baked the air until my throat was as parched as the rest of me was soaked. My silver cord flared painfully. I felt sure Isabeau was on the other end, pulling it as hard as she could. It actually yanked me through the grass. I knew it was a warning, knew I was running out of time. Still, I pulled back, staggering the last few feet. The pendant was within reach. I was so close now.

I hacked at it with the sword. The blade pinged off, leaving a scratch but not much else. I tried again and the force nearly shot it right back to Viola. It was sturdier than I’d assumed. The wood didn’t shatter to pieces like a cameo or a glass pendant would have and the decorative filigrees were made of iron. I scuffed the paint off, but the damage wasn’t enough to free me from Viola’s magical stronghold.

I scooped it up, searching frantically for another way to destroy it. There were little fires burning everywhere but none of them looked hot enough to consume the pendant quickly enough to prevent Viola from reaching it to put it out. Already, rain was starting to fall, hard as silver coins. Mud made everything slippery within seconds. Thunder rumbled, as if an angry dog crouched over us.

Dragon fire was the only thing that would burn hot enough, even in a deluge.

I slid through the wet grass, blinking the water out of my lashes and dodging panicked horses and flashing swords. The cut on my hand bled sluggishly, making the pendant slick. I had to get myself into a better position. I darted out of the protective shield of tree branches and ran as fast as I possibly could toward the dragon while everyone else was running away from it.

Everyone except Viola and Constantine, who were back in a saddle and so close behind me I could hear the horse snorting. The hooves were merciless, a constant hammer bearing down on me. Above us, the storm continued to crash.

Lightning tore through one of the dragon’s leathery wings. It bellowed in pain, fire erupting in one giant cloud, tinged with the acrid odor of charred flesh and blood. It spiraled, losing control and clipping the roof. Shingles and slate shot in every direction. Constantine launched his spear at me but it went wide as he concentrated on controlling his fire-maddened horse.

The dragon roared again, spewing more fire. It was close enough to singe the tips of my hair and turn my cheeks red, as if I was sunburned. I tossed the pendant up high into the flames and leaped out of the way. The heat from the fire made steam lift off my wet clothes.

“No!” Viola shrieked. “No!”

I landed hard, sliding down a hillock to the gatehouse where Gwyneth was hiding. My silver cord went so bright, it was like a moonlight path through the dark woods.

Now or never.

“Go!” Gwyneth shouted. “Now!”

“Come with me!” I shouted back, trying to grab for her hand.

She just shook her head sadly. “I can’t.”

And then she shoved me.

This time, I didn’t fall into one of Viola’s stored memories, but into a flash of silver, like lightning.