7. Torture All Around—Evangeline
I trailed Ivan as he led me down the hall to a main floor bathroom. Without warning or asking permission, he slid his hands under my armpits and hoisted me onto the counter as if I were a child. I sat quietly, putting pressure on my wound as instructed, and watched him rifle through the cabinets below until he pulled out a sizeable rectangular white box with a red cross on the front. A first-aid kit—a strange thing to find in a palace of vampires, though perhaps not so strange with the ever-prepared Sofie.
Ivan unraveled the bindings around my arm in silence. Part of me wanted to keep the wound hidden, afraid of what I might see. The bleeding had stopped, thankfully. He tossed the soaked towels into the sink with one hand and reached for a giant syringe with the other. He gestured to my arm. Grimacing, I nodded my assent but had to turn away and grit my teeth against the sting as he pricked my arm in several places. Within minutes, my arm was completely numb.
Ivan continued rummaging through the box, pulling out various things—thread, gauze, ointments. He went to work, cleaning my wound and the skin around it with an antiseptic and cotton pads. With the blood cleaned up, it didn’t look as horrific. Still, the gash had to be a good four inches long, stretching from just below my elbow joint to halfway down my forearm.
I watched with fascination as my werewolf-nursemaid threaded a needle through my skin with the grace and delicacy of a plastic surgeon. In the eighteen years before I met Sofie, I hadn’t had one stitch. Since meeting her, my hand had been cut open, my neck punctured—twice—and now my forearm mangled.
“I’m going to look like Frankenstein’s monster by the time this is done,” I muttered to myself as I studied the long, thin pinkish scar across my palm.
Ivan looked up, his golden irises revealing nothing about whether he understood me, whether he even knew who Frankenstein was. “Scars build character. They make you human.”
He speaks English! I smiled, both at his gentleness and at his attempt to console me. “Well, that’s good. I thought they just made me ugly.”
One corner of his mouth twitched into a crooked smile as he went back to work on my arm. Within minutes, twenty precise, neat stitches closed up the gash Lilly had so stealthily granted me.
“Thanks … Ivan,”
He grunted, thrusting a small white pill and a glass into my hands. “For the pain.”
I accepted it with a nod, tossing it back and chasing it with the water. “So all this blood doesn’t bother you?”
He shook his head. “I can’t smell it.”
“At all? I thought werewolves would have a keen sense of smell.”
“We do. We can’t smell your blood. We can’t smell you. It’s like you aren’t here anymore.”
My heart skipped a beat as I processed his words. “What do you mean, anymore?”
Ivan shrugged noncommittally as he packed up the medical supplies. “In Siberia, you were normal. Now you’re not.”
This must be another symptom. “You mean, like, the Tribe? Do they also not exist?”
Another shrug. “I have not met this Tribe so I cannot tell you.” His hands moved rapidly and I realized he was rushing to get away from this conversation. I wanted to know more.
“What else…?,” I asked, but my voice drifted as Ivan shoved his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out a plain white envelope, thick and stiff with its contents. He thrust it forward.
With a curious frown, I gingerly took it. Inside was a stack of four-by-six photographs—the ones of my time on Ratheus. The ones that brought me a balance of both sanity and insanity while in the mountains. The last I remembered, they were in my nightstand …
“Thank you,” I whispered, swallowing the lump in my throat, as I flipped through them, wistful longing pulling at my heart. I landed on a picture of Fiona and Bishop, sitting on a bench, Fiona’s beautiful violet eyes playfully taunting the camera. Full of life and love, and friendship. I traced her face with my finger, memorized Bishop’s smile beside her. I’ll never see either of those smiles again.
“Ivan?” I asked as he hastily bagged the bloody rags and gauze in a garbage bag. “What happened to all the others? In the mountains? When Ursula attacked and Leo sent us away, there was still staff there. Magda … Maria …”
“They are in Russia. Safe.”
A disturbing thought entered my head. “You know they’re all … who they’re supposed to be?”
His brow furrowed as if not understanding.
“I mean ... you heard about Ursula, right? You know about that witch who possessed Valentina? Did she die? Permanently?”
Ivan’s grim face cracked a smile as he chuckled. “Yes. She is not coming back. We’ve made sure of it.”
I hesitated, wondering what made sure of it meant but decided I didn’t need to know. “And Leo?” I asked, my eyes suddenly stinging with tears. “Were you able to bury him?”
He shook his head.
Sadness cloaked me. “But… you didn’t just leave him there, did you?”
Again, a shake of his head. “Follow me.”
I trailed him down the hall, an inkling of worry growing to full-on dread by the time Ivan stopped in front of a solid wood door. Was I going to find Leo’s corpse on the other side?
Pushing open the door to allow me to pass, I stepped into a lady’s parlor, decorated with tasteful floral wallpaper, crown molding, and matching pastel chairs. A cream-colored wall-to-wall bookcase filled one wall. I half expected to see a circle of prim ladies with big hats and china teacups, crocheting handkerchiefs.
Ivan raised a rough hand to a simple silver-plated urn sitting on a shelf. “Sofie will bury him with his family.”
His family. Maeve. A slow smile touched my lips as tears rained down my cheeks, a strange feeling of closure cleansing the pain of my sudden and tragic parting with Leo. Thankfully, Ivan took that as his sign to exit. He quietly slinked out, leaving me to cry alone.
It didn’t last long, though. “I’m going to take him to Ireland, when this is all over,” Sofie said, suddenly behind me, her arm draped over my shoulder. “That’s what he wanted.” With her free hand, she lifted my injured arm to inspect the stitching. “Those wolves of mine are obedient, aren’t they?”
“They can’t sense me. It’s like I don’t exist. Ivan told me.”
“Did he now …” By her clenched teeth and her calm, even tone, I could tell Sofie wasn’t surprised by this news but wasn’t impressed that I knew.
“You knew?” I cried out, my words thick with accusation.
She heaved a sigh of exasperation but then nodded. “I didn’t want you to worry more about this Tribe magic than you already are, so I asked them not to say anything. I guess maybe they’re not so obedient after all. Does your arm hurt?”
She was trying to distract me. I shrugged. The freezing was still working, but I sensed the first signs of discomfort waiting in the shadows. There was no point telling Sofie that unless I wanted to heighten her anxiety, which I didn’t. Besides, whatever that little white painkiller was, it had to kick in soon. I scanned the empty room. “Where are the others?”
“Amelie is taking a walk with Julian. Max is out hunting with his brothers.” Sofie bit her bottom lip in worried thought. “And Caden is with Bishop.”
Bishop. “When are you going to release him from the Merth?”
Sofie hesitated. “I don’t know yet, Evangeline. I can’t say what Lilly and the others are going to do, when they’re going to come back. I need to be ready.”
“So … what? We’re going to leave him bound like that forever? Sofie! We can’t do that! You have to do something! You’ve got to find a way to … bring this guy back,” I pushed, waving the picture of a smiling Bishop in front of her face. “Come on! You’re Sofie! You’ve got the Fates’ ears. You can solve anything!”
“Thanks for the pep talk,” Sofie said with a wry smile. But then she sighed and with it, raw pain shone through. “I’m working on it, darling.” She placed her hand over mine. “I did have an idea but … we’ll see if I can pull it off. I’ve got that to worry about, you to worry about …” For the first time, I noticed the dark circles under her eyes. She looked exhausted.
“You don’t have to worry about me, Sofie. I’m safe here.” Except that the love of my life came close to losing control again; I’m linked with your sister who’s out of her tomb and being tortured; I have a toxic magic flowing through me that is turning me into a nocturnal yellow-eyed demon; Julian is a secret Sentinel, and for some reason, a child vampire enjoys maiming me ... safe as a baby in a cradle.
Sofie let out a loud guffaw. “Safe? Are you nuts? In a blink of an eye, before any of us could stop her, Lilly cut you open! With Caden holding you, and all of us around, she got to you. And worse! I can’t heal you, Evangeline. I can’t do anything! I’m useless where you are concerned, and it’s driving me crazy!” Her fingers rifled through her mane of red hair, leaving it in disarray. “Safe, mon dieu!” she muttered to herself, rolling her eyes.
I studied my newest stitch work, Ivan’s words jumping out at me. “At least I’ll have character,” I repeated, earning the flattest look I’ve ever seen on Sofie’s face. I gave her a sheepish grin. “So, what are you going to do about Lilly?”
She shrugged. “Nothing. Now, we wait. Let them stew on what we’ve shown them. Lilly’s a lot of things, but stupid is not one of them. If nothing else, she’ll be curious enough to come back. She’ll come to her senses and it sounds like, when she does, she’ll have plenty to tell us.”
“She’s not going to pledge her allegiance to you, Sofie. You realize that, don’t you?”
“It’s the only way I can trust her. Lilly’s dangerous, Evangeline. Extremely dangerous. More so than Viggo in some ways. She’s trapped in a child’s body and mind—she’s reckless and stubborn; she lacks long-term vision. But she has the power and speed of an ancient vampire. From what I understand, she’s about twelve or thirteen hundred years old. Her size is her advantage. She’s so small, she’s hard to catch. And she’s sharp as a tack in ways that surprise even me. She sees things as a child that many of us don’t detect as adults.”
I stifled a yawn, exhaustion suddenly weighing me down. Must be all the blood loss … “What do you think she’ll do?”
“That’s not for you to worry about, Eve.” Sofie voice grew distant and my legs began to wobble. A hand gripped my good forearm as I stumbled and she led me toward the door. “You need your rest now. It’s been a busy day.”
“I’m not,” I fought to get out but an enormous yawn cut in. This couldn’t be blood loss. Why was I suddenly so tired? The white pill! “Sofie, Ivan gave me a sleeping pill …” My words were becoming garbled, blending into each other. Things began to sway and shift and blur.
“So they do listen to me sometimes …” she said, and I could hear the smile in her words. Great, Sofie can’t use magic so she’s drugging me now … “Can you take Evangeline up to her room? I don’t think she’s going to make it on her own,” Sofie said to someone. I have no idea who. And then my body felt like it was folding into itself as utter relaxation took over.
I cracked open my eyes and instantly raced to squeeze them shut, to secure them against the blinding light shining over me. Still, the light burned, penetrating the thin shroud of my eyelid, threatening to roast my corneas. I rolled my head to the side to fight against it and crippling pain shot along the back of my neck, triggering a domino effect of agony. From head to toe, every inch of my body throbbed, every nerve felt like it had been tested. What the hell had happened? The last I remembered, I was with Sofie in that room, talking about Lilly … Then I realized she drugged me … and I must’ve fallen asleep.
That’s when it hit me. I wasn’t there anymore. I was with Veronique.
A loud clunk sounded and the burning light disappeared. Relief. With great effort, I rolled my head back and lifted an eyelid to see the culprit—a giant fluorescent bulb hovering a foot above my head. My fingers slid along the surface beneath me. Based on the cool, smooth feel, I was on a metal surface. Perhaps a table of sorts.
“Veronique?” I whispered and then coughed, the word scraping against my dehydrated throat. I had never been so thirsty in my entire life.
“Yes?” she croaked. A gasp followed. A gasp for water.
I struggled to swallow a few times but couldn’t even form the saliva needed for that. “What happened to you?” I finally managed to force out.
Of its own accord, or Veronique’s accord, my arm lifted to meet my line of vision. It held there, trembling, long enough for me to see the gauzy sleeve—no doubt once a pristine white but now tattered and stained with dry blood—slide away to reveal blue and yellow mottled skin peppered with burn marks. There was more damaged skin than not.
“Oh my God!” I cried out, triggering an excruciating coughing fit. They were going to torture her to death. I had to get her out. How did I get her out?
My head flopped to one side to take in large concrete blocks and no windows. Underground, but was she still in Viggo’s place?
A door creaked open and I felt Veronique’s body spasm with terror. Forcing my head back over to the other side, I watched as two women and a man strode in. I recognized the black-and-silver-haired woman from the first time—the one with the whip. She reminded me of Cruella de Vil. The other woman, with long mousy brown hair and a sour expression, was new. The man, also new. I immediately saw the tattoo on his thumb. The Sentinel’s mark.
“Are you ready to tell us what we want to know, Veronique?” Cruella asked, a vicious grin curling her lips.
I felt Veronique press her lips together. Stubborn girl. Brave. Stupid, given the circumstances but still … brave.
With an annoyed shake of her head, Cruella said, “Very well. Stan?”
The man sauntered forward until he stood at the end of the table, towering over me. I heard a small click and a whooshing sound that brought back memories of a gas stove element. With a raised eyebrow and too much enjoyment dancing on his face, he revealed the bright red cylinder in his hand. A lit blowtorch …
I broke out in a cold sweat, already feeling the lick of that single tiny flame against my skin though it hadn’t neared me yet. “What do you want to know?” I blurted out, desperate to buy Veronique some time before the next round of barbarity began.
“No! Don’t tell her anything!” Veronique cried out in defense.
The two witches’ eyes narrowed with suspicion. Uh oh … Cruella bent forward to study me, her face so close I could count the stitch holes of a tiny silver scar above her left eyebrow, so close the smell of stale coffee on her breath curled my nostrils.
“Do you think she’s finally cracked?” the other one asked. “Split personality?”
Cruella paused, sucking on her top lip. She shook her head slowly. “No … it’s more than that.” Her brow arched curiously, her head cocking to the side. “Sofie? Are you in there?”
Before I could control my eyes, I felt them bulge out of their sockets in surprise. Damn it! She’s on to me. What was I supposed to do now? Maybe I could somehow negotiate with this loon … Her mouth curved into an inhuman smirk. “Yes, I thought so. How long have you been here?” I didn’t answer. A jagged fingernail dragged along the length of my cheek, stopping at the edge of my eye socket, disturbingly close to my bottom eyelid. She stared at me, penetrating, searching, violating me.
“Are you watching what we’re doing to your sister, Sofie? Are you enjoying it?” I cried out as her fingernail pushed down, further and further. Searing agony shot through my eye. She intended to dig it right out of its socket!
“It’s not Sofie. It’s someone named Evangeline! Please stop!” Veronique cried out.
My stomach sank. Veronique had just tossed me into a tank of hungry sharks! Then I remembered that it wasn’t my body lying on that metal table with a blowtorch by my feet and a fingernail at my eye.
Cruella’s brow furrowed. She stood, her fingernail lifting from beneath my eye. “I do not know an Evangeline … who is that?”
“I don’t know,” Veronique whispered. Cruella’s hand reached down to assume her eye-gouging position. “But she knows Sofie!”
With a pause and a decision, Cruella smiled down at me. “Well, Evangeline, make sure you let Sofie know how well we’re treating her sister.” She gave Stan a nod.
My back arched as searing hot pain fired throughout my body.
My blood-curdling screams lasted long after the pain had vanished. I couldn’t stop kicking my feet, sliding them back and forth over the cool satiny sheets to put out the flames. By the time I registered that I was in my room in the chateau, a giant werebeast stood over me in my bed and a ring of anxious faces surrounded the foot of it.
“What’s wrong?” Sofie asked, her eyes wide with alarm.
“Burning. Fire. Torture,” I answered in sputters, throwing off the covers to inspect my feet in the moonlight. Nothing but smooth pale skin. You’re safe, Evangeline. Safe. Safe. Safe.
The pain. The smell of burning flesh. It lingered in my nostrils. Though it wasn’t happening to me, it was real. They were torturing Veronique. While I lay in satin sheets, circled by her sister and those I loved, Veronique lay on a cold metal table, circled by the enemy, enduring unimaginable pain. A wave of nausea battered my senses. I was seconds away from bolting to the bathroom to throw up. No one could last long with that level of suffering. No one. And yet, I had to keep this secret. Sofie could not find out or she’d start a war and so many more lives would be lost
Hang in there, Veronique, I silently pleaded, biting down on my lip before the truth exploded out of my mouth.
“A nightmare?” Sofie pressed.
My head bobbed up and down, numbly, wishing for the safety of Caden’s arms. He didn’t move, though, instead studying me with a worried expression.
Sofie leaned down, her hand smoothing my hair in a motherly gesture. “About what?”
I bit down harder, madly searching for a lie that would justify my traumatic awakening. What if I revealed too many clues for the shrewd vampiress and she figured it out? Finally, I just shrugged.
She offered me a compassionate smile as her cool hand cupped my chin. “I told you not to worry. Everything will be fine. We’ll figure this Tribe magic out.”
I nodded again, dropping my gaze to my hands folded in my lap, hiding my face so she couldn’t see the tears welling. No, it won’t, Sofie … So much is not fine.
“I’m such a rotten friend. I’m sorry I haven’t been around more for you,” Amelie spoke out from her place beside Julian. “Especially with what you’ve been going through. We’ll do something tomorrow, I promise. Just the two of us. Okay?”
“Okay,” I mumbled, more to appease her. Her blond corkscrew curls bounced as she nodded with satisfaction, a rascally twinkle battling with worry in those emerald jewels. So happy. So oblivious, wrapped in Julian’s arms.
Rage flared within me. Stop it! That voice screamed. Every day that this charade between Julian and Amelie continued, the harder the truth would be. Julian needed to walk away, to break up with her, to tell her he’d lost interest. Something. Anything. I shut my eyes, hoping to reset my emotions before I accidently endangered Julian.
The bottom corner of my bed sank as a weight settled on it. Caden was perched stiffly on the edge of the bed, glaring at Julian, the muscles in his strong jaw rigid with tension. Instantly, I realized my mistake. He hadn’t missed my reaction to Julian and Amelie and he was reading it as something different. Jealousy, on my part. I need to get better at guarding my reactions around Julian, I scolded myself. I covered my face with my hand, trying to block out all the ways I could lose my mind.
Sofie’s heels clicked as she slowly backed away. “Okay, well; let me know if you need anything.” She turned to walk toward the door, her fingers gripping Amelie’s elbow as she passed, a signal for them to leave. At the door, she stopped and turned. “Max?”
No, the stubborn beast growled.
“Max, can you give me a moment alone?” I scratched the back of his ear affectionately. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done that …
With a heavy exhale, Max leapt off my bed and strolled past Sofie. I’ll be right outside the door if you need me.
A soft click, and I was alone with Caden. Our eyes grazed each other for a moment and then he looked away. I immediately sensed the shift in the air between us. Something was definitely different now. Before, I could touch him, I could hold him, I could be with him. Now, there was an unspoken boundary. An invisible divide—a barbed wire fence that kept us sitting side by side but growing distinctly apart. The barbs had hooked onto my heart, choking it, tearing it apart with each passing hour.
As I stared at him, at his mess of tawny brown hair, at the way he focused out the window on something unseen in the night sky, the ball of anxiety in the pit of my belly flourished. I couldn’t tell him what was happening! Worse, what was happening to Veronique, that I was witnessing and saying nothing about. What would happen if he knew? Either he’d tell Sofie, which I knew was a tragedy for the greater good of all, or he’d make me promise to keep quiet because of the greater good of all. Just like binding Bishop was for the best. As rational as that side of him was, I couldn’t bear the callousness of it.
And so I remained quiet, allowing a wall to grow between us—the invisible wall of lies and pain that grew in size and density and stabbed my heart with its severity. A wall that, I was afraid, would soon be impenetrable. Tell him everything! That voice pleaded within me. Oh, the euphoria of pouring my heart out to him, of divulging every last secret that burned my soul. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t form the words that would end Julian, that would either force Caden to betray me or forever taint my view of him.
And so I bit my bottom lip to keep quiet, so hard I thought I might draw blood. Blood that would spark an uncontrollable urge for Caden, and would then kill him. I could feel the fissure in my sanity widening, threatening to break into a million pieces, never to be reassembled. I am a liar. A betraying, lying, fragile human …
I had to fight the overwhelming urge to lunge at him, to expunge all my anxiety, my agony, my everything with him. If only for a night, an hour, a minute … While I still could. While my touch wasn’t instant death. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t even speak. So I just sat there, staring at him, accepting that I had lied to him before, and that I’d lie again. I stared at the moonlight shining in through the windows, dancing along the dazzling curves of his profile. I stared as awkward silence suffocated me.
Caden was the first to speak. “How’s your arm?” He slid closer to me, his long fingers stretching out, closer and closer, almost to me …
A vision of his lifeless corpse on my bed, dull green eyes staring into nothingness pulled my arm back involuntarily.
“No.” With a scowl, Caden closed the distance, intentionally grabbing onto my knee, his thumb and forefinger squeezing around it tightly. He raised a knowing eyebrow.
I exhaled softly, soaking up the relief. I hadn’t killed him. Yet.
With that test out of the way, he gently lifted my injured arm beneath the elbow, appraising the fresh wound, still red and swollen. “Does it hurt?”
“It’s sore, but I’ll live.” I thought I heard his teeth grind against each other as he glowered at it. What if … I swallowed the swirl of rising panic. Spidery red veins seared my mind. “It’s not still bothering you, is it? My blood?”
He shook his head fiercely. His eyes flickered to my face, a hint of shame in them. “I was right there and she still got to you. I’m just so angry.”
“It’s not your fault.” I hesitantly reached forward, my own fingertips running along his index finger. He didn’t react at first. I was afraid I had overstepped this new unspoken boundary. But then his long fingers laced between mine. My pulse quickened as those intoxicating jade jewels seized me, demolishing me with their intensity, lifting me up, up into the clouds, into heaven, into oblivion …
“What was your nightmare about?”
And I was tumbling downwards, anxiety slamming me against the hard, cold, uncaring ground of reality. My voice caught as I whispered one name, a name that left a bitter taste on my tongue. “Veronique.” It was the truth and yet a blatant lie. Another lie …
Caden slid his arm around to my opposite hip and pulled me close to him, welcoming my forehead against the ridges of his chest. He rested his cheek affectionately against the top of my head. “I’m sure she’s fine. There’s no reason they’re doing anything to hurt her. She’s too valuable,” Caden promised in a low whisper, his hand running through the length of my hair, stroking it gently.
You’re so wrong, Caden. Tears seared my eyes. I swallowed a sob. “I hope not.” Another lie to Caden. Two major lies in one night and I had sworn I could never tell him one.
I want to forget everything. Make me forget everything, for just a little while. My hand expanded, fingers stretched out across his chest, raking his muscles, skimming down along the ripples, wandering over his chest, his biceps, his stomach, his belt …
“I should go,” Caden whispered, grabbing my hand, his body growing rigid. A snake of tension constricted inside me. Reluctantly, I pulled away, rubbing residual tears away with the back of my hand. He moved to stand up.
“Wait!” My hand flew to his leg, grasping his outer thigh. I tempered my voice, asking more tentatively, “Can’t you stay a little while longer? Please?”
“Bishop’s all alone.” As if that explained everything, he was on his feet.
I swallowed my fear, forcing the next question out. “Is that why? Does it have anything to do with … before?” With Julian?
He towered over me like an angel, his tall, muscular body more appealing to me than ever before. I didn’t know why. Maybe because I was losing him … “Yeah. A little bit,” he admitted. The snake squeezed tighter, threatening to crush my vital organs, to end me. A single tear escaped, rolling down my cheek. I smeared it away with the back of my hand, not wanting him to see me cry.
Too late. The muscles in his neck tensed as he swallowed. He looked away, focused on the window. “It’s not right or fair that it bothers me, but it does. I can’t help feeling like you’ve betrayed me, even though I have no right. I’ll get over it but … it will take some time.”
“How long?” I asked. Inside, I was dissolving in misery.
“Evangeline.” His voice cracked, full of desperation. After a long pause, he shrugged. His voice turned hard and cold. “We have bigger issues to deal with right now.”
Bowing my head, I sank into the bed, clenching until my nails dug into my palms. I recognized practical Caden, the guy who’d kept me at arm’s length back on Ratheus. I thought I’d chased him away for good, but he was back again. He was assembling his own wall. A brick wall, not as agonizing as my barbed wire fence of lies, but still substantial. I wanted to scream at it, to tear it down, throw the pieces away, smash them, burn them. Instead, I nodded.
“Everything will be fine with us. I just need some time.” Time. Something we didn’t have. Leaning down, his cool lips first grazed my forehead and then planted a lingering kiss on it. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” With that, he vanished into the night, leaving me alone with my crumbling sanity.
When Max ventured in, the tears were still falling.
***
I woke up empty, drained. Luckily, I hadn’t endured another round of Veronique’s physical torture. Now, it was only my own mental torment that loitered. I wondered which was worse. Max was gone again. Likely out hunting. He had spent hours silently mopping up my tears with his snout. As much as I appreciated him, I appreciated the time alone.
Heaving myself out of bed, I showered and dressed at a sluggish pace, preparing myself for another day of Tribal magic surprises, of watching a good friend imprisoned and suffering, perhaps another injury, but most of all, another round of gut-wrenching distance between Caden and me.
Springy blond curls and a brilliant smile ambushed me the second I stepped out into the silent, empty hallway. “Ah!” I yelled, stumbling, my head banging against the doorframe.
“Come on!” Amelie chirped, oblivious to my shock. She grabbed hold of my good arm.
I let her drag me, my heart hammering against my rib cage. “Where?”
She shrugged vaguely. “Doesn’t matter. We’re spending the day together, remember? First, you probably need to eat.”
We found the two French cooks in the kitchen, this time with rolling pins in their hand and a round, flat pastry dough stretched out on the marble countertop. Smiling in unison, they dove back into their work.
“What do you feel like?” Amelie asked, already neck-deep into the open fridge. Before I could tell her I’d rather eat glass than food, a plate of fresh fruit and pastries materialized in front of me. Amelie’s long silver-painted fingernail tapped against the countertop. “Eat up!”
“You sound like Sofie,” I grumbled. I wasn’t hungry. The thought of food made me want to vomit, my insides twisted into so many intricate knots even Houdini couldn’t unravel. But, I knew arguing with Amelie would take too much strength. She’d pin me down and force-feed me. So I relented, picking up a slice of melon. Its sweet juices had barely touched my lips when Sofie entered. It’s like they had Evangeline radar …
Minty eyes narrowed slightly, as they had the previous morning, when she was sensing me magically. It set off a volcano of panic inside me. The melon dropped from my grasp onto my plate.
“What? What is it now?” What had changed overnight? Was my touch finally lethal? No … Amelie had held my hand. She was still alive and perky. Which meant I wasn’t a full-on leper yet …
Sofie shook her head, reading my mind without being able to read my mind. “Nothing. How was the rest of your night?”
Lonely … I pushed my bitterness away and grumbled, “Fine,” as I slid the plate away. It may as well have been crawling with maggots, as unappetizing as it was.
My answer earned a heavy sigh of relief from her. “Good. I’m going to be busy for a while. Testing something out on Bishop.”
I jumped out of my seat. “Are you serious?” Finally, a spark of hope, a ray of something positive. “Have you figured out how to fix him?”
“I have an idea or two. Nothing I’m sure of yet…” Striding forward, she stopped before me to push a strand of hair from my face. “I’ll take care of everything. Don’t worry. I’ll fix it.”
I want to believe you Sofie, I do. I just couldn’t help but feel fate was spiraling out of control. Swallowing a painful lump of despair, I nodded and changed the subject. “Any news from Lilly?”
The responding scowl gave me my answer. “I expect we will hear something soon.” Sofie looked down to my injured arm, her deepening scowl creating unpleasant clefts in her forehead. “You can keep Evangeline occupied, right, Amelie?”
Amelie hopped off her stool, saluting in a military fashion. “I’m on it! I’ve got Operation Entertain Evie covered!”
Despite everything, that earned a genuine smile. Oh, how I missed Amelie’s levity!
Cool fingers traced my chin. “I haven’t seen that beautiful smile in so long,” Sofie whispered. I turned to see sadness flash across her face. Then it was gone, replaced by a mask of composure as she leveled Amelie with a sobering stare. “Help me keep it there, will you, Amelie?” With that, Sofie vanished.
“So …” Amelie leaned on her elbows, cradling her chin. “What do you wanna do?”
I shrugged with disinterest, squashing a blueberry between my fingers. “What’s there to do?” Wander around the halls of this giant chateau and pretend that everything was fine? That Veronique wasn’t being tortured to death, that Caden and I weren’t one second from over, that Amelie wouldn’t be crushed and Julian dead once they discovered his secret? That I wasn’t slowly turning into a Tribe demon? That the world wasn’t going to end …
Hands clapped sharply, catching the tip of my nose. “Earth to Evie! What is going on in that pretty little head of yours?”
“I’m … wallowing,” I admitted. Heat crept up my neck. I wasn’t a wallower. That wasn’t me. From my mother’s death, to my solitary teenaged years, to learning of the curse, I had never spent more than a minute dwelling on the negatives. Now, I was bathing in L’Eau de Wallow.
“Bad idea, Evangeline. You need a good distraction.” Her hand rested on my shoulder. “So let’s find one, okay?”
“Okay … What do you have in mind?”
“I’m not sure … I usually hunt bears and jump off cliffs when I need a distraction.”
I snorted as my gaze roamed the four walls of the kitchen, imagining the long halls outside, the stairs, the rooms … Nothing there was distracting enough. Well, except Caden. But then that’d just bring me back to my inevitable worry. I needed to get away. Far away, just for a little while.
“Let’s get out of here,” I whispered, already anticipating Amelie’s negative answer.
An impish curve touched her lips. “We could,” she mouthed. She looked over to ensure the cooks weren’t listening.
My heart started pounding against my ribs. “Seriously? Do you think Sofie’ll be mad?”
Her mouth twisted. “If she found out … yeah, probably. But I’ve been out once or twice. Caden’s been out a couple of times … Viggo’s out twice a day. Nothing has happened! There are no signs of any Sentinels watching. We should go!” Bright white teeth glistened as she struggled to contain her excited smile. “We could do it, Evie! We could …” Her words trailed off as the eagerness deflated like a popped balloon, crushing my already weak spirit.
“Those wolves. They’d tell Sofie right away. We can’t get past their stupid mutt noses.”
I smiled. Finally, an advantage.
***
Rounding the corner into the foyer, I almost smacked into Viggo striding through the front door. He cringed and jumped backward a foot to avoid my hand grazing his leg. He was afraid of me and my Tribal magic. I smirked with satisfaction. I was a natural Viggo repellant. A silver lining.
“What are you two up to, so giggly and … annoying?”
“Girl stuff!” Amelie spat back haughtily, hooking her arm through mine.
With an exaggerated eye roll, Viggo sidestepped around us—giving me an extra wide berth—and continued on, not in the least bit interested in a couple of tittering young women. Not unless they were tittering over him. I released the lungs’ worth of air I didn’t realize I was holding. I may repel him but he still terrified me.
“Okay. Stay right here,” Amelie ordered, pointing to the tile where I stood, as if I were a dog who might wander away. She vanished, only to reappear ten seconds later with coats and boots for both of us. “Come on!”
I had one boot on and was tugging the second on when Amelie grabbed my arm and began dragging me out the door, my coat hanging off one arm. “Quick!” She pointed to a navy jeep sat parked outside. Opening the passenger door, she bowed. “After you, mademoiselle!”
I took a deep breath. This was crazy. We were crazy! Before I could chicken out, I hopped in. “Sofie’s going to kill me,” I muttered to myself. Amelie was in the driver’s side an instant.
“And you’re sure you want to do this?” she asked slowly.
I sighed. “Amelie? We’ve got both our hands in the cookie jar and now you’re the voice of reason?”
“Well, I don’t know … you’re always the good one.”
“Yeah, and where has that gotten me …” I peered over my shoulder at the chateau, where too many problems lay hidden within the walls. Turning back, gazing down on the city of Paris, I saw only freedom beyond the ten-foot stone wall. An escape, if only brief. I nodded firmly. “We need to get out or I’m going to go bat-shit crazy. Besides, you’re with me and we’re in Paris. No one knows we’re here … we’ll be fine,” I smiled, adding, “Just don’t forget … Sofie can’t fix me if I get broken.”
Amelie grimaced. She grabbed my hands, her voice suddenly urgent. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ve already lost one best friend. I won’t lose another. I promise. If I suspect anything, we’ll come right back. Swear!”
I held out my pinky finger. “Swear.” She giggled, hooking onto my pinky, and then followed it with a ferocious hug. Like a cloud lifted, she was back to Amelie, her pretty little face full of determination. She began pawing the visors, the side pockets, the console, the glove compartment.
“Where are the damn keys? There must be a set somewhere …” When it was obvious that we weren’t going to find a set of keys in here, she shrugged. “Rats! Oh, well.” Reaching down to the ignition, she yanked the cover off, exposing a mess of wires. She had them plucked apart, stripped, and crossed in seconds. The rumble of the engine filled my ears.
“Where the hell did you learn to hotwire a car?”
She giggled, pleased by my disbelief. “There were a lot of cars sitting around after the war and no keys. And I was bored.” She threw the car into gear and gunned it, the back end of the jeep sliding sideways in the snow before correcting itself. “Caden taught me.”
“Caden …” A sharp prick stabbed my heart. I forced the grief away. No doom and gloom, if only for an hour or two. Please.
The jeep moved forward, weaving along the long drive, the two of us chattering as if we were home free. It wasn’t until I spotted the giant brick wall, and several of Ivan’s men, both in human and wolf form that I realized that they wouldn’t have to smell me. They’d see me sitting in the passenger seat! I slammed my hand against the dashboard. “Damn it!”
Amelie hit the breaks and the jeep went sliding sideways. “What?” Wild green eyes stared at me.
With an exaggerated gesture at the wall, I said, “They’ll see me sitting here. They’ll have Sofie after us in under two minutes.”
“We could crash through and keep driving?” she offered with no conviction in her voice. Her shoulders sank. “You’re right. I was so excited, I didn’t think about that part.”
“Bloody werewolves,” I muttered, feeling the exhilaration of moments ago deflating. No. I was getting past them. I needed this. I needed to get away. I was going to go crazy otherwise. Unfastening my seatbelt, I scrambled between our seats, over the back seat and into the back of the jeep, planning to lie as flat as possible. They had no reason to check the back of the truck, right? To my pleasant surprise, a navy and beige plaid wool covering sat folded in one corner. Perfect! I dove down and curled into the smallest ball possible, tossing the blanket over myself. I was a full-on stowaway.
“Ready!”
“Okey dokey!” Amelie chirped. “I hope this works!” The jeep lurched forward, my body jolting as it barreled over bumps in the old road. I dared not peek out.
An anxiety-riddled minute later, the brakes squeaked as the jeep slowed to a stop. I sucked in a mouth full of air, waiting. I heard the slide of a mechanical window as it opened. “Hello, friendly werewolves!” Amelie called out with a touch of displeasure in her voice, the touch that no one but a friend could identify.
Snow crunched, announcing the approach of a two-legged guard. “Where are you going?” a rough Russian-accented voice asked. I didn’t recognize it.
“Oh, down to the city for a stroll. Maybe a snack …” I could hear the vicious grin in her voice.
“You normally go on foot.” It was a statement, one coated with suspicion.
“Yes, but this time I need to bring back some blood with me and this is easier than lugging bags,” Amelie lied smoothly.
“Viggo brought back a supply yesterday.” Another statement, another layer of suspicion laid down like a heavy rug.
“And now I’m getting more! What can I say? We’re hungry! Would you rather we eat the staff who’s busy cooking your meals for you?” The edge in her voice was now razor sharp. Though I couldn’t see her, I imagined her small, delicate hands waving dramatically.
There was long pause. “Why didn’t you get the keys?” the werewolf inquired, obviously noticing Amelie’s hotwire talents. Freaking sharp-eyed wolves.
Amelie responded with her trademark seductive giggle, one I’m sure no one—even a burly Russian werewolf—could resist. “I’m a naughty girl. I guess old habits die hard.” I sucked in another breath as the excruciating silence stretched. “Come on! I’m not a prisoner here!” She threw in an annoyed sigh.
I heard snow crunching as footsteps moved away. I exhaled the smallest breath of relief, fighting hard against a delirious giggle. In another moment, the sound of creaking iron gates announced our freedom. The jeep jerked forward one last time.
***
“So I guess there were no basic road rules in your Earth?” I said dryly, my chest tight, my white-knuckled hands gripped on the door handle as the jeep slid sideways into a parking spot. “I should have stayed hidden underneath the blanket for the trip.”
Amelie winked and giggled at me. We had made it to Paris’s downtown core in what could only be considered record time, swerving through traffic, disregarding street lights, and taking the roundabouts and narrow streets at full speed, as if both of us were immortal.
Amelie pushed open her car door and hopped out. “Come on! We don’t have a lot of time. Sofie’s going to skin me alive if she finds I’ve taken you out.”
I gave my body a quick shake, trying to slough off the petrifying drive. My eyes coasted over my surroundings. Paris … I was in Paris! I had only ever dreamed of being here. I’d never expected to make it, or so soon. We were in the heart of the city, parked on a narrow street that bustled with life, even in the winter chill. People darted in and out of shops like little ants, all in a rush, bundled in the most fashionable of coats and hats. I had always heard that Paris was like this—the people knew how to dress. It wasn’t surprising that Sofie was from here.
I guessed their fashion sense would be the first to die when the need for basic survival took over, when this war began … I looked along the decorative buildings, down at the beautiful cobblestone road. If I focused hard enough, I could see the tufts of grass pushing through the crevices, up heaving history and human life and swallowing it up in years of neglect and decay.
A violent rap on the side window brought me back from my apocalyptic daydream. I turned to find Amelie’s mesmerizing emerald irises glaring at me through the glass, her arms crossed over her chest in a childlike stance. Opening the door, I barely got my leg out before she grabbed hold of my arm and yanked me the rest of the way.
“When I say ‘skinned alive,’ I mean it, Evangeline! Literally. She can do it do, you know!” She tugged me forward as she marched across the street. “My skin will just grow back, but it will hurt like a son-of-a-you-know-what while she’s doing it!” I tuned out her dramatic ramblings, peering into the storefronts, each unique and exotic. A soap store, a perfume store, a specialty baby gift shop. Soon, they would all be a thing of the past, remnants of human existence, left behind to decompose in the rubble.
“Evangeline!”
The sharpness in her voice slapped me into place. I turned to see those eyes dissecting me—both worry and annoyance in them. “Where is the excitement from thirty minutes ago? I’m risking Sofie’s wrath by bringing you out here. The least you could do is not be a complete zombie!”
“Sorry …”
She sighed, squeezing my hand. “It’s okay. You’re dealing with a lot. I’m dealing with a lot. But,” she yanked on a long cylindrical brass door handle and prodded me forward into the shop with sharp fingers in my shoulder blade, “while we’re dealing with it, let’s do something fun like … get Christmas presents!”
Christmas. Right. It was tomorrow. It would be my first Christmas with Caden … and perhaps our one and only. Get it together, Evie … I shook the thought away. Amelie was right. Shopping for gifts would be an enjoyable distraction.
The second we stepped inside, the smell of sweet pipe smoke tickled my nostrils, bringing with it a pang of remembrance. It smelled like Leo. We were in a gentleman’s shop, full of dark wood shelves, and lined with everything from cigars to jewelry to striped dress socks and pink ties. Numerous frazzled women milled about with salesmen trailing behind them, hoping for the commissions on a last-minute desperate and expensive purchase. Of course I would get something for Caden. But what the heck did I get a seven-hundred-year-old vampire for Christmas?
“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve even thought of getting a Christmas gift for someone? Gosh … I can’t even remember what I … Oh, yes, I can! I got my mother this beautiful pink and white cardigan,” Amelie said, as giddy as a child in a toy store as she strolled up to a counter that held some expensive watches and other men’s jewelry.
“Bonjour, mademoiselle,” the distinguished man behind the counter chirped in his melodious French tongue.
Amelie giggled, batting her long eyelashes sweetly. “Hello, sir. My French is atrocious at best.”
He smiled and nodded. “Oui. I understand. How may I be of assistance?”
She leaned forward to peer into the glass counter in front of her, her finger dragging over the surface as if ready to identify something. “I’m looking for a pocketknife. A large one. Decorative but effective.”
“Oui, mademoiselle. I believe I have just the item for you. One moment, please.” While the salesman crouched behind the counter, Amelie turned to me to add in a low voice. “Julian should have a weapon until I can convert him.”
I forced a smile. “You think it will happen? You’ll be able to convert him, eventually?” Before he turns into a hideous yellow-eyed leper? I didn’t know if that would happen to him. No one knew. While we both had been touched by the magic, I seemed to be the only one who was rapidly changing. Maybe he and Veronique would avoid it somehow.
“I have to be able to, Evangeline,” she whispered, staring at me with raw desperation. “There’s no point being here, otherwise. I can’t do it again without him.” She was right, I realized. It did have to happen. Amelie had a second chance at love and she wasn’t willing to risk losing it. No, it finally dawned on me. If Julian died … Amelie was as good as gone as well.
Again, I would lose two good friends. Fiona, Bishop, Julian, Amelie … gone. How long before I lost Caden fully as well?
“Yes, of course,” I nodded my head, swallowing my fear for my dear friend, forcing a broader smile. I needed to change the topic, and quickly. “What do you think I should get Caden?” I asked as the salesman reappeared, a light brown rectangular box in his hand.
With a pensive bite of her lip and a roaming look around the glass cases, Amelie pointed at one to our left. Inside it was a selection of pocket watches. “Dad had one of these. Caden loved it. He’s always had a bit of an obsession with the time. It was damaged when …” She looked at the salesman who was now watching us intently, waiting to show Amelie his selection. She chose the rest of her words carefully. “In the accident. I’ll bet he’d love a new one from you.” Turning back to the patient salesman, she sang, “What do you have for me, sir?”
He slid forward the box and propped open the lid to reveal an ivory-handled knife. “This is what we call a tactical folding knife, mademoiselle,” he explained.
Amelie pulled it out and flipped it open, revealing the four-inch blade. Enough to seriously injure someone. “Perfect!” she exclaimed, slashing and jabbing the air with it to test it out. The man jumped back, his eyes widening with panic. I hid my smile as I peered down at the glass case. Little did that man know, he had more to worry about from Amelie than a knife.
“I’ll take it!”
While he wrapped the box, I studied the display in front of me. There were a dozen or so round timepieces and they were nice enough, but I wanted something special for Caden. Something to remember me by when I was gone. I wanted to give him the best watch in the world. Surely, there was something more elaborate not on display, from where ever he got Amelie’s knife.
“Do you have any other watches?”
“Oui … but…,” he stalled, his eyes sizing me up.
“Can I please see them?”
He smiled politely but the curl of his upper lip was unmistakable—the superior smirk. “These are more in your range, non?”
I felt it the second it happened—like a brittle twig, something snapped inside me. Burning fire crawled up my neck, searing my ears, my face, my scalp. As I glared at him, at this pompous man in his three-piece suit, judging me, the urge to scream crippled my senses. I clenched my teeth together to keep from causing a scene. That scrawny neck … I pictured my hands reaching forward and wrapping around it to throttle the arrogance out of him. I was certain doing so would bring me much joy.
Sure, in my white down jacket and furry boots, I didn’t exactly look like the person who had a hundred million dollars sitting in an account somewhere courtesy of Sofie. Of course, I hadn’t seen a penny of the money, which I didn’t care about. I hadn’t bothered to ask about it, hadn’t bothered to think about it.
Now, though, it mattered. I had that obscene amount of money to spend, I wanted to get Caden the best damn watch ever, and the end of the world was coming. Who the hell was this … man … this watch man or knife man or cigar man—some sniveling, little man—to tell me I couldn’t even look at a watch when in a few weeks or months or years, he’d be vampire carcass along with everyone else in this room! Assuming the matter closed, the man pulled the display of watches out.
“No,” I hissed.
He quirked an eyebrow in surprise. “Non?”
“Non!” I spat back, mocking his French accent. This imperious little man was denying me a perfect gift for Caden. I hated him. I hated everything about him. Without thinking, I wrenched the knife out of Amelie’s hand. Stretching over the countertop, I seized his plaid vest and yanked him forward with force, holding the knife’s tip dangerously close to his jugular. “Non, as in you are wrong. I’d like to see your best watch. Please.” Blood hammered in my eardrums as I watched terror capture his tongue. He said nothing. He didn’t even blink. “What are you waiting for?” Hatred dripped from my voice, to a level I didn’t know I was capable of.
A hand squeezed my shoulder. My head whipped around to find Amelie standing there, giving me a wink as her other hand clamped over the knife handle and my fingers. Lowering it, she leaned over the glass, her face inches from his. “Please show us your best piece, sir, and forget that my friend ever held a knife to your neck. She’s having a bad day.”
When he answered, his voice was even, his words empty. “Oui, one moment.” Into the back room he went.
With his departure, my fury collapsed, leaving me confused and horrified. What just happened? I stared at Amelie, dumbfounded.
“Good lord, Evangeline!” Amelie exclaimed. “You’re wound tighter than a yo-yo. I thought you were going to kill him. What’s gotten into you? I mean, it’s cool and all but … a little excessive, don’t you think?”
I struggled to regulate my breathing. “I don’t know what happened,” I whispered, swallowing repeatedly. Checking the store, I saw that no one had noticed. Thank God! Thank Amelie! “Thank you … for erasing that from his memory,” My fingers raked my hair. I had almost driven a knife into that man—over a watch! Was I finally cracking?
“No problem. If you want, I can make him tap dance naked in the street after.” I caught Amelie’s devilish smile as the man returned with a small black metal box. I scrutinized his face as he unraveled the packaging. No sign of fear, no indication that he remembered I had just held him at knifepoint. What is wrong with me? He flipped two hinges open and my self-loathing disappeared instantly. Inside lay a large sterling silver pocket watch nestled in black satin. Around the outside perimeter were engraved roman numbers to identify the hour. In the center, under clear glass, were the gears of the timepiece. A heavy silver chain hung from a loop on the top.
“Wow,” I said, my internal turmoil temporarily forgotten. Who knew a pocket watch could be so beautiful? “It’s perfect.”
I looked up to ask the price at the same time that Amelie announced with a wide grin and a penetrating gaze, “Please wrap it up. We’ll take it at no cost.”
“Amelie!” I hissed when the man turned his back to begin wrapping it. “I can’t steal a gift for Caden!”
That earned an eye roll. “Oh, please! You were about to stab the man and now you’re worried about stealing from him? You’re so spastic lately …” She grinned impishly. “Besides, think of it as your payment for saving the world. You’ll have earned it.”
I groaned. Amelie always had a way of rationalizing things to her own advantage. But in this case, I wasn’t going to argue. I was already a delinquent when it came to morals. What was theft, added to conspiracy and attempted murder?
In under five minutes, we were walking out with wrapped gifts at no cost to us. I tucked the watch into an inside pocket in my jacket to keep it safe. “Where to next?”
“Evangeline …” Amelie’s voice drifted off as she looped arms with me. She pulled me across the street, paying no heed to the oncoming traffic, even when angry horns blared at us. “Do you think it’s awful of me to be so happy with Julian after watching one of my best friends die? I mean, shouldn’t I be curled up into an angry little ball and not out here, shopping for Christmas gifts and stuff?”
As we stepped onto the sidewalk, she slowed to a halt. A fractured replica of Amelie’s face turned to stare at me, one suffering from extreme internal turmoil. “Does all this make me a terrible friend?” Her voice turned soft and shaky.
I knew what she wanted. She wanted the validation that I so desperately sought for myself. That it was okay to long for Caden’s arms around me when Bishop was suffering, when Veronique was being tortured, when the world was about to end. That I shouldn’t feel guilty that I’ve found one shred of happiness in all of this and that I was willing to let it consume my thoughts every second of every day.
I felt my face warm in a gentle smile. “No, Amelie. It doesn’t make you a bad friend. It gives you a reason to live, to fight. It keeps you sane.” I reached out to squeeze her hand. Sanity. Something I’m quickly losing …
Her shoulders lifted and fell. “Good. I didn’t want you to think ill of me, Evie. I don’t want anyone to think I’m not suffering over Fiona’s death. I miss her.” Amelie’s lip quivered. “I miss her so much. Every day …” She swallowed as her gaze dropped to the cobblestone. “Sometimes, at night, while I watch Julian sleep, I swear I hear her voice down the halls. That laugh of hers …” She smiled, looking off in the distance, reminiscing. “It makes me want to go back to New York and tear every last one of those witches to pieces.” When she looked at me again, her eyes were glassy with emotion. “I’m just so thankful to have Julian. He’s made it so much easier to deal with losing her.”
A lump formed in my throat. “I know,” I forced out, along with a forged smile.
Grabbing my arm, she dragged me into a store with sharply dressed female mannequins posed in the window. “Julian’s amazing, Evie,” Amelie gushed, her mood lifting. “He’s just so … smart and sweet and … funny! Even with all the awful stuff going on, when I even think of Julian,” her hands closed in to nestle against her chest, “this warm bubble grows inside me. I didn’t think I could feel like this ever again!” Again and again, her ecstasy over Julian pounded on my heart like a concrete hammer, smashing it to a pulp. “He’s been the perfect gentleman. So old-fashioned …” Amelie explained as she pulled a black lacy outfit off a shelf, complete with green ribbons and things dangling from the bottom of it. “Oh, I like!”
I groaned inwardly as my fingers caressed a silk gown absently. Of course Julian’s been the perfect gentleman, Amelie. If you knew what he was hiding, you’d be using that lace to choke the life out of him …
“I’m going to try this on.” Amelie slid into a dressing room, throwing back over her shoulder, “You know, you should pick something out for yourself.”
“For who? Max?” I answered under my breath, not meant for anyone’s ears.
Of course, with her bionic hearing, Amelie picked up on it. “Caden has been acting weird lately, hasn’t he …”
I instantly blushed.
“Not sure what’s gotten into him. I guess with Fiona’s death, Bishop being tied up, you being … toxic … sorry … he must be taking it pretty hard.”
And thinking Julian and I hooked up probably doesn’t help. In the grand scheme of things, that was a tadpole in an ocean’s worth of issues, and yet it seemed to be crippling us.
“When Caden found out you had been in the mountains with a guy … you should have seen him. Paranoia city! But I told him there was no reason to be worried …” The way Amelie’s words trailed off, by the lilt of her voice, I sensed this conversation was going somewhere intentional.
“Uh-huh.” I pretended to flip through racks of clothes while my insides were screaming.
“You know, it’s so hard to read you with that stuff flowing through your veins.”
“So they say.” Alarm bells, ringing loud and clear. What exactly was she trying to read?
“Julian said you’re just friends. I can’t help but think …” There was a long pause. “Did something happen between you two while you were up in the mountains?”
“No!” I didn’t allow a beat to pass, trying to keep my voice sounding as firm as possible. Still, in those two letters, in that tiny one word, my voice shook.
Another long pause. “You two were alone in the mountains for a month after Caden tried to kill you. And Julian … I mean, just look at him! How could you resist that?”
With a trembling hand, I rubbed my forehead. I was no good at this deception stuff. What would she do if I lied to her as I had to Caden? Visions of the innocent maid’s head bashed against the floor had my heart racing. I had no interest in finding out. “Because I never stopped loving Caden.”
I heard her exhale. “I’m so glad. Evie. I mean, I know you’re my best friend and all, but I don’t know how well I’d handle that. I get a little jealous sometimes …”
“You don’t say.”
A latch released and the dressing room door swung open to frame a svelte Amelie in nothing but lace and skin. “What do you think? Will this work on Julian?”
I gasped with surprise. “Good lord, Amelie! I’m not the one you’re trying to impress!”
She giggled, closing the door. “So? You think it’ll work?”
“That would work on a devout priest,” I answered truthfully. “If that doesn’t work, I don’t know what will.” Silently, I promised to warn my dear friend of my other dear friend’s carnal intentions.
“Seriously, Evangeline, why don’t you pick something out?” Amelie pushed. “Whatever’s bugging Caden will work itself out soon and when it does, you’ll want something besides flannel poodle pajamas to catch his attention.”
“Yeah, maybe you’re right.” I flipped through the racks with renewed interest. Most of the items were more reflective of Amelie’s seductive nature, but I did stumble on a subdued black silk gown with delicate white lace along the top and tiny Eiffel towers splashed all over.
“I found something!” I called out, pulling the gown off the rack and whirling to show Amelie … and almost slammed into a stern-looking face. A middle-aged woman with dirty blond hair and a hooked nose stood a foot away from me, well within my personal space.
“Excuse me,” I said politely. But she didn’t move. She didn’t blink. Her blue-gray eyes remained frozen on me, a dangerous glint in them. A flicker of wariness sparked inside me. She was concentrating—I could tell that much—though on what, I had no idea. I watched her eyebrow rise with a flash of surprise. It quickly gave way to a grim scowl of determination and two viselike grips on my biceps.
“Evangeline!” Amelie shrieked from within the stall. “I can’t move my arms or legs! There must be a witch nearby. Run!”
Too late. That’s what she was. That look … I knew that look. It was the look of magic. She had tried to spell me and she couldn’t because of the Tribe’s curse … A brawny hand flew to my jaw and squeezed so tightly that I couldn’t answer Amelie, couldn’t utter a sound. One arm hooked around mine in a painful lock and the woman started dragging me toward the front of the store with surprising strength. Out, away from Amelie, away from safety.
I fought back, twisting and turning my body, swinging my legs out from under me to target her shins. I dug my nails into her flesh, eliciting a howl of pain from her but still she marched on. I leaned in to bite at her hands, managing to grab hold of her index finger with my front teeth, a coppery taste filling my mouth. She let out a yelp but continued. I was like a rabid raccoon and yet I couldn’t break free of her remarkable grasp, no matter what I did. I knew it wasn’t magic that did it and it surely wasn’t her size, given she only had a few inches and about thirty pounds on me. It had to be a combination of raw hatred and grim determination.
It was obvious I wasn’t a willing participant in this excursion and yet, as I passed the two ladies tending to the store and the other shoppers there—all watching the scene unfold—none did anything to help. Even with Amelie’s shrill screaming from the back, they stood like frozen deer caught in headlights, unsure of what to do. For all I knew, they were influenced by magic. Everyone could be. Everyone except me.
Desperate, I allowed my knees to buckle. My body flopped to the ground. The witch responded with a guttural curse. With one hand still on my jaw, she grabbed a fistful of my hair with her other hand and began hauling me out. Pain exploded in my scalp. I knew she’d keep moving, even with chunks of my scalp falling out, and so I was forced to scramble to my feet and follow. She stormed through the glass entrance door with me in tow, into the frigid cold and the busy street.
Dozens of pedestrians stopped to watch, a mixture of alarm and curiosity on their faces. The witch released my jaw as she tugged me forward along the cold, icy ground, moving with purpose. I soon saw that purpose was a large white van with no windows and the back door wide open.
This was an abduction.
If I went into that van, I was as good as dead. Now was my chance. Someone had to help me. Someone had to do something.
I opened my mouth to let loose a blood-curdling scream a second before a giant male hand clamped over my mouth and grabbed hold of my arms. I kicked and thrashed wildly but this man was at least six foot three and two hundred and fifty pounds. It was useless. They had me.
“Not a breeze, but easier than I expected,” the witch mused, pulling out a tissue to stop the trickle of blood from her hand.
Everything was happening so quickly. In seconds we reached the back of the van and a second set of large male hands with a telling tattoo grabbed hold of my wrists. He yanked me into the van and tossed me onto the dirty van floor. Cradling my stitched arm against my chest to protect it, I counted six dark-clothed goons sitting over me. If I could just get out ... Maybe I could break free …
We were thrown into dim light as the back door slammed shut. With a bang on the outside, I heard the woman shout, “Go!” The van lurched forward.
The enemy had me.
Without firm fingers gripping my jaw, I could scream. And scream I did. At the top of my lungs, I screamed. I screamed for Sofie, for Amelie, for Caden, for Max, even for Mortimer. For all of them. But it was no use. None of them would hear me in this moving van, surrounded by these hulking men. If only I had stayed at the chateau. What were we thinking?
I scrambled to my knees, determined to get myself out of this disaster. If I could just get to the driver to stop the van, maybe Amelie could catch up … I leapt forward, clawing at the closest man’s face. My nails connected, raking his cheek and his left eye, drawing blood. He howled in pain as his hand flew to his face. I dove in, intent on pushing past him to reach the driver. I almost made it. Almost. A swift elbow out of nowhere connected with my lower jaw, stopping my momentum. Pain exploded on the entire left side of my head as I crumbled to the floor once again, the metallic taste of blood coating my tongue.
“Careful. Dead bait’s not useful.” I barely heard the man’s gruff warning over the ringing in my ears.
No sooner had the words left his mouth than tires squealed and an engine roared somewhere outside. The van came to a jarring stop, sending me flying forward, slamming into the back of the passenger seat.
“Holy s—!” the driver shouted, but his words were cut off by a smash of glass and a shriek of terror. My head flew up to see that he was gone, replaced by a smear of crimson on the steering wheel. Guns emerged while men shouted orders, preparing for the attack as the van rocked violently. Suddenly, the grating sound of metal on metal filled the air. Daylight and frigid winter air spilled in. Someone had ripped off the back doors! It had to be Amelie! Amelie promised to keep me safe and she would. She kept her promise. She would save me.
I allowed myself a second of relief in my tiny heap on the floor, despite my throbbing jaw and the shouts and screams and blaring car horns from outside.
Gunfire rang out, mixed with screams and shouts. I buried my head within my arms, face down, afraid of stray bullets. Luckily the gunfire stopped as abruptly as it began. Counting to five, I dared peek out from my cocoon.
“Amelie?” I winced with each syllable. I waited. No answer. “Amelie?” I called out a little louder.
“No.” A lone female figure with short black hair appeared within the doorframe.
Lilly.
Her small hand extended toward me, offering a gentle smile. “Come with me now.” In shock, I crawled to the edge of the van. When those fingers curled over mine, she pulled me out with surprising ease. She threw my arm over her shoulder as if expecting that I would need support, which I did. The ground was wobbly. That, or I was wobbly. Either way, I was thankful for the help.
I had left the danger of the van, and stepped into utter chaos on Paris’s city streets. A large crowd of horrified spectators stood at a distance, staring at the carnage laying before them—a mangled van and heaps of broken Sentinel bodies. From the looks of it, a few bystanders had been victims of the hail of bullets. Kait stood over two of the Sentinel bodies, her red leather outfit swapped for a black one. Her hands were covered in blood and she was grinning viciously, her eyes throbbing with crimson lines. A flash caught the corner of my eye. I turned in time to see a young man with a phone camera snapping a picture.
“In here,” Lilly commanded, leading me over to a white BMW Z4. Giving me a firm push into the passenger seat, she closed the door behind me. In the blink of an eye, she was beside me in the driver’s seat, fastening my seatbelt over me. I hadn’t yet uttered a single word. I couldn’t help but stare at her, such a tiny frame sitting in the driver’s seat, scarcely able to see over the steering wheel. She looked like a thirteen-year-old playing grown-up.
Lilly threw the car into gear and sped off past the crowds, sending several onlookers diving for safety. She weaved in and out of traffic, both moving and parked.
“We’ll be out of the city soon,” she explained. A truck suddenly pulled out in front of us. Lilly hit the brakes, sending the back end of the car sliding sideways. She spun the steering wheel to counter the direction. The wheels caught traction and we were back to speeding along the streets.
“I guess that’s why they say not to drive sports cars in the winter,” she kidded. When I didn’t respond, she asked, “Are you going to be okay?”
I paused, unsure of how to answer. I lifted my hand to run a finger along my now-swollen jaw. I wondered if it was broken. No, if it were, I wouldn’t be able to speak. Still, it may as well be for how much it hurt. Either way, that wasn’t my problem anymore. Now I had a new problem. Lilly had me and I still didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
Turning to her, I asked pointedly, “Are you going to kill me?”
I caught the surprise flash across her face. “I haven’t decided yet.”
I’m not sure what answer I expected, but that wasn’t it. My lungs constricted, knowing I may have escaped death with the Sentinel to meet death with this diminutive hateful vampire. I considered jumping out of the car but then realized there was no point putting myself through that, given Lilly could catch me on the other side, put me back in, and continue driving without missing a beat.
“Aren’t you worried about what Sofie’s going to do when she finds you?”
“Nope.”