3. The Sentinel
“Soon,” I murmured softly, sliding my hand over the smooth white marble of my baby sister’s tomb, knowing my promise was a blatant lie. One hundred and twenty years ago, she accompanied me, hand in hand, into a dank, dusty room in this very building—then a factory of sorts. One hundred and twenty years ago, I had stared straight into her anxious green eyes and sworn that I’d release her the second I fixed my magical blunder. As tears rolled down her rosy cheeks, I’d chanted the freezing spell, my voice masking her last sobs until the spell paralyzed and preserved her body, and I felt my heart break. I witnessed the magic marble winding around her body, encasing her in her glorious tomb, swallowing her beautiful, curly brown locks. And here she was, tucked away inside the atrium’s focal point when she could be free. All it meant was that Evangeline had to die. Damn the Fates and their twisted sense of humor.
No. While Veronique was locked in her magic-induced coma, my lies couldn’t hurt her. They would torture me, but I’d endure. I would keep her under this spell for as long as it took to outsmart the Fates. Just as Evangeline would remain in her own protective cocoon—for years, decades, a lifetime. I would keep her safe.
“I guess the others are in the cellar?” I said to no one in particular as I strolled away from the statue, my eyes drifting over the twenty or so Ratheus inhabitants who lingered in the ruined atrium, huddled in circles, whispering amongst themselves. Likely still in shock over this otherworldly transportation. The other half—including Caden and his posse—were busy gorging themselves on blood bags in the cellar. Like unruly teenagers, they had broken into Viggo and Mortimer’s stash within an hour of arriving and had stayed there since, satiating their thirst, dooming their previous moral convictions. All of the Ratheus vampires had spent a considerable amount of time in the cellar, but it seemed Evangeline’s friends couldn’t get enough.
Those four had also foiled my desperate plan to corner one and dissect their intentions. I needed to isolate one of them just long enough to infiltrate their souls and minds. Only thirty seconds, someplace where I knew I wouldn’t be attacked by Mage for using magic or by Viggo for appearing to conspire against him. I would be breaking two parts of the truce by doing this and therefore would likely earn the wrath of both ancient vampires. I had no idea what Mage’s wrath entailed; I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out.
But it didn’t matter because I could never get close enough. If Viggo wasn’t around, then Mage was. Since she had some uncanny ability to sense my magic, I couldn’t try anything with her in arm’s reach. And if neither of them was around, then that bitch, Rachel, was—hovering, watching, poised to report back to Viggo and Mortimer. It was clear she had chosen to side with them in this power struggle, and appointed herself Viggo and Mortimer’s eyes and ears. So I waited impatiently, and each hour that passed saw Caden and the others committing themselves more and more to their blood lust. My hope for something good to come of this charade was quickly thinning.
“Damn it!” I heard Viggo mutter, voice low. I whipped my head around in time to see him tucking his cell phone into his Armani suit pocket, his jaw clenched. Bad news? I felt a small smile curl the corners of my mouth. I knew exactly what that message was about. One of his compelled minions had informed him that their search for Evangeline had come back empty. No doubt there were a hundred such packs running loose around the world at this very moment, the brutes storming every location tied to my past. Both Viggo and Mortimer had been glued to their text pads, sending directives out to their vultures. I had expected as much.
His steely blue eyes locked on mine when Viggo realized I was watching. The hard look of frustration instantly vanished, replaced by his typical smug grin. “So Evangeline’s little ‘friends’ refuse to pry themselves from our blood reservoir.” He sauntered over to stand beside me, a smile of satisfaction tugging at his lips. It was just like him to find that amusing. But he didn’t wait for me to answer, instead changing the topic completely. “Do you really believe we’ll see Ursula again?” He added with thick sarcasm, “Assuming you were telling me the truth before.”
I realized we were standing in the exact spot in the atrium where my nemesis had fallen to her death—or her host body’s death. Good question. One I didn’t have an honest answer to, other than what I had already told them—the death was too clean, too calm, to be permanent. I had no idea how that jealous witch had reincarnated herself once, let alone over and over again to stalk me through the years. She had no doubt made her own deal with the Fates. Of course, telling Viggo any of that was useless. He wouldn’t believe me. So I simply shrugged. Ursula was the least of our worries.
The sound of a lock clicking set the tiny hairs on the back of my neck on end, erasing all worries. The exterior door release. Someone was entering. My shoulders tensed. I had sent every staff member away from here, with no hope of finding their way back! So who could . . . My nostrils caught a whiff of human blood. “Mortimer!” I hissed, my eyes glued to the gaping hole where the first security door had once existed.
“It’s Monday. The gardener,” Mortimer whispered in response. Not that there was any point to secrecy. The twenty Ratheus vampires in the atrium were well aware of the small Portuguese man entering to prune and weed the urban jungle as he did every Monday and Thursday. By now his blood was tantalizing their nostrils.
“What do we do?” I asked, hearing the panic in my voice. The words sounded foreign, coming from me. I wasn’t used to asking Mortimer—or anyone—for advice.
But it was too late. Like a pack of super-speed bees—Rachel in the lead—twenty vampires swarmed toward the door to ambush the quiet, polite gardener the second he stepped through the gaping hole, the horror of the atrium’s present ruin distracting him from his impending doom. He didn’t even have time to scream.
I averted my eyes, unable to watch the massacre of the gentle, innocent man with whom I had shared a laugh on several occasions. How could I have forgotten about him?
“That’s too bad . . . He knew how to prune Veronique’s azaleas in just the right way,” Viggo murmured with the empathy of Hannibal Lecter. I turned to see the hunger in his eyes, an arrogant smile of satisfaction on his lips as he witnessed the innocent man’s death eating away at my core.
I dug my red-painted fingernails into my thighs as I fought the urge to gouge Viggo’s eyes out, my promise to my baby sister becoming harder to keep by the second. I needed to distance myself. Spinning on my heels, I stormed toward my haven, throwing back over my shoulder with spiteful satisfaction, “The only way you’ll find Evangeline is if you pry it out of my head.” And that will never happen.
Evangeline’s delicate human scent lingered everywhere. The same delicate human scent that had enticed me for eighteen years, since the day I’d first laid eyes on her tiny pink form, swaddled and asleep in a bassinet. She had barely lived in this hideous blood-red room—the décor a twisted joke of Viggo’s—and yet I could find traces of her on every surface. On the crimson silk bedding of the four-poster king-sized bed; on the taffeta drapery; clinging to the crystals of her nightstand lamp where her wrist had grazed them while switching on the light. Everywhere. It was why I had spent most of my time here, since the Ratheus vampires’ arrival. It was why I warned everyone to stay out or suffer my wrath, truce be damned. So far, no one had tested me.
I wandered around the room now, clutching Evangeline’s pink sweatshirt to my chest. She’d been wearing it the night of Ursula’s attack. I shuddered, thinking back to that night, the raw pain visible in her eyes when she first learned the truth behind her mother’s death. I’d wanted to run to her, to hug her, to protect her. And I couldn’t. I couldn’t allow Viggo and Mortimer to comprehend the depth of my love for that sweet girl. They would have used it against me. In the end, Ursula’s attack was a blessing. Evangeline finally saw Viggo for what he really was: a conniving monster.
Passing by a full-length beveled mirror, I faltered. Sallow green eyes gaped back at me. My hair, naturally smooth and silky, drifted in disarray. Awkward creases riddled my fitted black and silver tube dress. Strange, for me. I didn’t need to work very hard to turn the awed heads of every man, woman, and child I passed. I never looked like this . . .
I sighed. Evidence of my current frazzled state over being separated from my girl. For eighteen years, until the first night her curse sent her to Ratheus, she was always within a minute’s reach, always under my careful watch. And now she was thousands of miles away.
I hated it. I hated Viggo and Mortimer for making me do it. All I have is a picture, I thought bitterly as I pulled a folded four by six from the only pocket in my dress. I had swiped it from the stack of prints I developed for her. In it, she was sitting on a bench, gazing off to her left and smiling. Likely at Caden. My finger traced the lines of her face, memorized long ago. How much like her mother she looked, with her blonde hair and dimpled smile. Longing tore at my insides. If I was honest with myself, I missed her more than Nathan. I missed her more than my sister.
I sensed his entrance a split second after he appeared in the corner of my eye. “I thought I made myself clear,” I began, taking time to fold the picture and slide it back into my pocket. “No one is to enter this room.” I turned to level Caden with a flat gaze. Perfect. We’re alone. Finally. Now’s my chance. Except he’s too far away. I took one step forward, then another, slowly edging in without rousing suspicion. He wouldn’t take kindly to being violated like this if he knew what I intended to do, I was sure. I just needed him to remain unaware for thirty seconds so he wouldn’t bolt or attack me. And, if his motives for Evangeline proved wicked . . .
Caden suddenly and unexpectedly appeared inches away from me with speed to rival Viggo, his powerful hands tightly gripping my biceps. “Where is she? I need to see her,” he whispered, desperation in his voice. His thumbs dug painfully into my flesh.
I had to tilt my head to meet his eyes. God, he’s strong. How am I going to do this without him knowing? He certainly was a darling, I had to admit as my eyes roamed his features, delicate and masculine at the same time. I could see why Evangeline had fallen head over heels for him. “Why would I tell you?” I began, mentally plucking several helixes and readying them, wondering if I could carry on a conversation while dissecting him. Doubtful, but I’d have to try.
“I need to see her,” Caden forced through clenched teeth.
“You used her and then tried to kill her,” I spat.
Raw pain flashed in his eyes. He cocked his head to the left, toward the door. Checking for eavesdroppers. When he looked back at me, it was with grim determination. “Why don’t you find out for yourself? I know you can do those kinds of things, witch,” he grated, his own suggestion clearly an unpleasant one.
Did I hear right? Is he . . . volunteering to be explored? I felt my mouth twist with doubt. No . . . he couldn’t be. What vampire in his right mind would—
“Do it now!” he urged, his voice breaking, despair shining in his jade eyes. “Quick! Before they find us!”
I didn’t need any more prompts. With reckless abandon, I drove magical tendrils into his body, infiltrating his thoughts, his emotions, his pain, everything about him. I navigated through his past, through his human life, downloading his every hope, his every fear, his every desire as if they were all part of a computer program, the visions flashing in my mental eye, the emotions swarming my heart.
I felt my eyes widen as Evangeline’s angelic face appeared, as I rifled through his memories of her, from the unconscious, frail creature lying on the cave floor to the moment her pendant locked within the statue’s grasp in Ratheus. And then the atrium . . . Evangeline stood smiling at me. No, at Caden. Her smile faltered as Caden’s overwhelming desire to kill her took control, as he lunged. The images ended with a mix of unruly desire and raw pain. Caden’s.
He’d lied to Viggo. He truly loved her.
I gasped as my magic released him. “She’s safe,” I whispered breathlessly, relief flooding my soul as my hands flew to his cheeks, suddenly the cheeks of an angel in my eyes. He may want to kill her, but he wouldn’t break her heart—perverse but comforting. “You need to get out of here now, before they find us together,” I whispered in a rush. Now that I knew his love for Evangeline was pure, I was that much more desperate to protect him. I couldn’t give Viggo a reason to try to kill him. “I left Rachel in the atrium with a body, but who knows how long that will keep her occupied. And God only knows where Mage is.” At least I knew Viggo and Mortimer wouldn’t be lurking. They had been all but glued to the atrium, to be near Veronique, their erratic paranoia that she was in danger growing tenfold.
Caden ignored my warning, scooping my hands from his cheeks to clasp them between his instead. “Does she hate me?” he whispered.
I chuckled, shaking my head. “Quite the opposite. The silly, sweet girl is busy worrying about everyone else, as usual.”
Recognition sparked in his eyes. “How do you know? Does she have a phone? Can I talk to her?”
I shook my head. “Leo. I can communicate with him.” Where only minutes ago I was ready to string Caden up and torture him mercilessly, now I was freely sharing my most protected details. Details that Viggo and Mortimer didn’t and needn’t know. “I didn’t have a chance to set up phone towers where she is. And it’s safer this way. Viggo’s likely tapped into the phone companies.”
“Where is—”
I cut him off. “No,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s better for everyone if I keep that to myself.”
Caden nodded in assent, pausing only for a second. “When can we see her? I need to explain. I need to apologize.”
“When you’re ready . . . when I’m ready.”
“Can’t you do something? Isn’t there some way to protect her?” Caden pleaded, tearing at my heart.
“Keeping her hidden is the best protection right now. You’d better go. Now!”
But it was too late. A familiarly serene voice interrupted us. “Has your magic given you what you needed?”
We were so engrossed with each other that neither of us had sensed Mage’s approach. Now I slowly turned to face her, instantly arming myself with helixes, unsure of how she would react to my direct violation of the truce, of her specific requirement. To my surprise, the ancient vampire’s coal-black eyes appeared . . . satisfied.
“It was necessary,” I answered cautiously.
“Good.” She turned to Caden, a small smile touching her lips. “I suggest you depart now and keep your distance from Sofie. The truth—however obvious it is to you and I—should be kept muddied for everyone’s sake.”
My eyes darted to Caden to see the same shocked expression on his face that had to be sitting on mine. Was the supposedly evil, sadistic Council leader . . . helping us?
“And you’d best wipe that affectionate grin off your face when you look at him and his friends,” Mage continued, her words directed to me. “That’s why I didn’t allow you to do that thing with your magic earlier. One flash of that, and Viggo would see the truth. He needs to remain in doubt.” She waved a hand dismissively at Caden. “Run along, now. And don’t forget, you have a debt to repay, given you were going to leave me behind.”
Caden hesitated with that last comment, bowing his head guiltily. Then he turned to whisper, “Tell her nothing makes sense without her.”
I nodded once, squeezing his hand.
And then he vanished, leaving me alone with the ancient, magic-sensing vampire.
Mage’s dark eyes settled on me. “I understand that he is important to Evangeline and I am in her debt. I will not allow any harm to come to them. Ever.”
Her left eyebrow arched when a snort escaped me. “You don’t believe me?”
“No. I’m sorry, I don’t. For the life of me, I can’t understand why . . . ”
Mage’s red lips curled back in disdain. “I don’t know when our kind became such treacherous, conniving fools. I remember a distinct shift within the last five thousand years.”
It took every ounce of energy to keep my face from displaying my shock. She’s five thousand years old—at least! No vampire had lived that long on Earth, as far as I knew. Of course, I didn’t know much. Viggo was tight-lipped about our world’s vampire history. I only knew that he wasn’t the first vampire to exist, but now he was the oldest. My gut told me he played some role in that first vampire’s demise, especially since the handful of others left roaming the world threatened to kill me for my association with him. He hadn’t made a lot of friends.
“So this is Evangeline’s room?” Mage asked, her eyes roaming the décor as she moved farther into the room.
I said nothing, studying her intensely, wracking my brain for a possible motive to her interest in helping Evangeline. The fact that I couldn’t guess one had me on edge—more so than if I could definitively say Mage was evil. If only I could magically dissect her as I had Caden . . .
She stopped in front of the fireplace to study the painting—the one I had moved from Evangeline’s previous room to here. It was the one I had painted of her as a little girl, picking daisies at the playground. “This is Evangeline.”
“Yes.”
“Charming.” She stood in silence for a moment before speaking again. “You love her as if she were your child. I envy you for that.” Those black eyes fell on me again, so peaceful, so reserved, so . . . unreadable. “I came here to tell you that the cellar is bone dry.”
I felt my eyes bug, the sudden change of subject jarring, the news shocking. “There was enough to last weeks, at least!”
She shrugged. “What can I say. Obviously not. The incident in the atrium earlier should attest to that. Surprise guest?”
I cringed at the reminder of the gardener. “Yes, a complete surprise,” I answered, adding, “I’m not a fan of surprises.”
“It will be a long time before you can trust any of them around humans,” she continued, her tone tinged with rebuke.
“I’m well aware of that,” I snapped, her condescension sparking rage. “This wasn’t exactly planned.”
If my tone bothered her, she didn’t let on. “No. Of course not. Can you change the security code so no one else can get in?”
“I, uh . . . ” I faltered, her suggestion flooring me. Why hadn’t I thought of that? It was brilliant and simple! And something I would normally think of in half a human heartbeat if I wasn’t so preoccupied. Yet, here Mage was, offering sage advice to help me.
That was it. I’d had enough. Time to see what you’re made of, Mage. I turned to regard my concerned advisor, loosening my upper body, ready to spring. “Let’s not dance anymore, shall we?” I began, my voice deliberately calm. “I prefer my dance partners taller and more . . . masculine.”
Mage’s long black tresses swayed as her head tilted back, a musical laugh escaping her lips. “Whatever do you mean?”
She finds this amusing. Great. I had a female version of Viggo on my hands. I sighed heavily. “What game are you playing, Mage? You would appear to be concerned about Evangeline and Caden’s well-being, you’re offering advice to avoid the chance of humans being killed. I don’t have time for this. I play enough games with Viggo. So what is it that you want?”
The amusement vanished from her eyes, replaced by a hazy stare, as if she was no longer looking at me but into her own distant memories. “Does it not bother you that my world and your world are so similar?”
I paused to register her words, her sudden change of topic sending me reeling. “Yes,” I answered truthfully. “It has bothered me greatly since the minute Evangeline began describing it.”
“Because you wonder if your world is fated to the same demise as Ratheus.” Mage picked up a small figurine from the fireplace mantel. I watched quietly as she rolled it back and forth between her fingertips. “I worry about the same. The planets are identical, you see. There is only the venom issue.”
Something in her tone, something in her words, stirred a gut feeling that a deep, dark secret lingered on her tongue, one that existed now as it had before, in the atrium.
“From what I—” Mage’s eyes flicked to the door and she sighed. “Prying ears, as usual.” I frowned, not sensing anything. Normally my senses for such things were keener than even Viggo’s, due to my sorceress abilities. “You can create sound barriers with your magic, can you not?”
“While keeping the truce?” I smirked.
She smiled in return. “There are exceptions to every rule.”
She was giving me permission to use my magic. Fury sparked, but intrigue quickly doused it. She wanted to tell me something that the others could not hear.
With a few carefully chosen words, I conjured a purple-hued bubble around me. Mage’s eyes followed it as it expanded to touch the walls of Evangeline’s room. So she can see magic as well!
Satisfied that the room was protected from listeners, Mage began again. “Now, where were we . . . yes, the venom issue. From what I gathered from Rachel, it was your fault?”
A derisive snort escaped me but I followed it with a nod. It was one hundred percent my fault. I had toyed with the Fates in my attempt to join Nathan in eternity. I was the one who had fried everyone’s venom. I was the one who had killed my love. Never had I tried to shirk blame.
She smirked. “Well, you single-handedly changed the fate of your world. But by how much? Really, who can say. Was it enough?”
Enough for what? I wondered.
“We had no issues with our venom. So that’s one difference between the two worlds. And from what I gather, Ratheus is running on a different clock, as well; it’s approximately seven hundred years ahead, based on the technology I’ve seen here,” Mage waggled a finger at the digital clock and the built-in stereo system beside the fireplace, “and what I recall of our world before the war.”
“Seven hundred years,” I repeated, my stomach plummeting, the significance of the number unmistakable. “Didn’t the war on Ratheus begin seven hundred years ago?”
“Yes, that’s right. Around the same year as the one Earth is in now.” Mage began pacing, her arms crossed over her chest. “So really, other than the time difference and your venom issue, the worlds are identical.”
“Well, still. The worlds are not the same. There are the geographical names,” I reminded her. “That’s a big difference. Ratheus instead of Earth. And this New Shore; we never had a city named that.”
Mage pursed her lips, then relaxed them to heave a loud sigh. “Have you ever heard of a seer?”
Changing topics again . . . where is this going? Aloud, I answered, “Cousin to the witch. Yes, I’ve heard of them, though I can’t say I’ve ever met one.”
“They’re incredibly rare,” Mage confirmed. “I had one at my disposal for a short while. A servant seer.” Mage opened the door to Evangeline’s closet, scanned the racks upon racks of brand new designer clothes, and arched her eyebrows. Finally she closed the door and turned back to me. “When the human world ended, she prophesized that someone of a parallel world in a parallel universe would come to us. She couldn’t tell me why or when, but she felt the strong urge to hide the identity of our world.”
“But . . . no.” I frowned. “You’re from Ratheus! That’s not parallel!”
Mage paused for only a second. “Have you ever looked at the letters in the name ‘Ratheus’?”
No. I closed my eyes. R-A-T-H-E-U-S. “Oh God . . . ” I murmured.
Mage had lifted a figurine from the mantel and studied it as she continued, her tone conversational. “I played around with the words ‘our Earth,’ but couldn’t find a name I liked with those letters. So I eventually came up with ‘Ratheus,’ using ‘Earth’ and ‘us’ as a base. And ‘New Shore’ was so named because it was the shore we landed on in our new world.” Placing the figurine back on the mantel, she smiled sadly at me. “Ratheus is Earth, Sofie. Our worlds are parallel . . . as the fates of each may be.”
Mage may as well have punched me in the stomach. The Fates had left the part about the planet being parallel out of their details. Deep down, I had toyed with the idea, wondering if it were possible. Then, when Evangeline told me it was called Ratheus, I’d relaxed, assuming they were only eerily similar. Mage had just crushed that with her admission. But something still didn’t add up. “How is this possible?”
“What, parallel planets?” Mage shrugged, holding her hand up dismissively. “How do vampires exist? How do witches and magic exist? I learned long ago that there’s no logical thought to all of this. You can’t rationalize that which defies all logic. Don’t even attempt it. You’ll only leave with more questions.”
“Do all the . . . Ratheus vampires know this? Does Caden know?” I frowned as I wracked my memory of what I had seen with my invasive spell.
Mage denied it with a small shake of her head. “My seer was adamant that it be hidden from everyone. It makes sense—had Evangeline known the real risk, would she still have agreed to it? Would you?” She paused. “So I had every single one of them compelled. I wiped it clean from their memory. All they know is Ratheus.”
I felt my eyes bulge. Vampires compelled? And so powerfully? Impossible! Only humans could be compelled. “How . . . ” I sputtered but Mage was already walking toward the door, straight for the sound barrier. Walking through that would break the bubble and end our conversation when I needed so much more info.
“It doesn’t matter. I suggest you not mention any of this to the others yet.”
“Mage, please!” One burning question needed to be asked. “What started the war?”
She stopped just before she reached the magical barrier and turned. “Well, for one thing, a group of fanatical humans who made it their mission to kill vampires and witches.” The Sentinel. Further proof of our worlds’ similarities. Nausea again churned my stomach. “They hid underground for years, until we were sure time and common sense had eradicated them. We became complacent, and they suddenly appeared, allied with the witches and stronger than ever, with their sole goal, outing us.”
I frowned doubtfully. The Sentinel despised the witches as much as they did vampires. So many of my previous kind had been burned at the stake by the zealous Sentinel that an alliance seemed impossible. Sure, Ursula had used several Sentinel members in her plot, but that was the work of an insane woman offering her wiles in exchange for brute force, I was sure of it. “And then what?” I pressed. “The Sentinel and the witches attacked and started the war? Just like that?”
Mage hesitated. “Yes, they attacked. It may have been kept under wraps, had it not been for one imprudent vampire who executed an entire faction of them in front of a television camera.”
“That would do it,” I answered dryly, then muttered, “I hope you punished the idiot severely.”
As Mage reached out to turn the doorknob, effectively breaking the sound barrier, a sad smile touched her lips. “I’ve punished myself every day since.”
“We need reserves!” Viggo exclaimed in exasperation the second I stepped into the atrium, still dazed by the devastating knowledge Mage had imparted to me—entrusted only to me. Until I could evaluate the risks of the others knowing, I would keep it to myself.
Viggo and Mortimer sat at their bistro table, guarding Veronique, as usual, oblivious to the real danger threatening us. The Ratheus vampires—if I could even still call them that—were milling about, now that they’d drained their supply of human blood. Their eyes darted furtively around the atrium and the balconies, as if searching for a human hiding amongst the charred leaves. My eyes rolled over Caden and the others, off in one corner, and rolled on as I intentionally avoided eye contact. Mage had been smart to stop me from reading Caden, that first day. Viggo would have spotted the truth, had it flashed in my eyes for even the briefest of seconds.
First things first, though. I bolted for the exterior doors, sidestepping the few vampires still trying to pull blood from the gardener’s drained corpse, and stopped in front of the security keypad on the wall. Thank God Leo gave me the pass codes to do this. I quickly reprogrammed the passwords, a small giggle escaping me with the knowledge of how this would infuriate them. There. Both the exterior garage and the exterior walk-through door were locked down. No one would enter. No more innocent people would die.
I walked back, more light-hearted than when I had left them, smiling my satisfaction as I watched understanding dawn in Viggo and Mortimer’s eyes, before fury narrowed them. Mage stood nearby. Our eyes touched, and my lips tucked up at the corners in appreciation of her suggestion. She acknowledged with a barely perceptible nod.
“Why would you do that?” Viggo yelled. “I have blood trucks ordered and on their way! Are you going to let them in?”
“We can’t have Red Cross trucks pulling in here, with the Sentinel hovering,” I threw back, adding after a snort, “And I won’t have innocent truck drivers massacred for your entertainment. No. I’ll take care of it.”
“Hey, Reg,” I said when Reggie’s deep voice answered, using my friendliest pitch. Reggie was a supervisor at one of the city’s Red Cross blood banks. Two weeks ago, he had loaded a utility truck with blood and smuggled it inside for me—a gold mine when shoring up supplies in anticipation of four vampires. Of course, I had compelled him to do all of this, and had him at the ready to respond to future needs, leaving me with an open source of blood when I needed it. Like now.
A long pause, then, “Sofie.”
Something isn’t right. I had expected a much warmer reception. “I need more blood, Reg.”
Another long pause. “Um . . . Okay.” His voice quavered with fear. “Be at the receiving dock in thirty minutes.” The phone went dead.
He shouldn’t be afraid of me. I must have messed up the compulsion, forgotten to script it properly. I was normally so good at it! I hung up the phone, sighing my annoyance. Gone were the days where entire trucks could go missing without anyone being the wiser. Now, in the age of computers, every drop was accounted for. I could alter numbers, but then I’d have to follow the trail of information to cover a dozen different threads of evidence to hide my tracks. I didn’t have time for that. I needed human blood.
I headed straight for the garage, a spacious concrete room two floors below the ground level. Nearly three dozen pristinely maintained cars and trucks lined the walls within, some of which had never seen the open road. They were merely part of a collection, another one of Viggo’s material weaknesses.
My eyes drifted over the silver-blue Mercedes, with its dented and bloody front bumper—Viggo had used it to run down Evangeline’s mother. He kept it as a memento. Please choose Mortimer, Veronique, I prayed. Viggo would be as good as dead for what he did to Evangeline.
I climbed into the shiny black Navigator, the largest vehicle available for carting back a supply. As expected, the keys were in the ignition; Viggo didn’t fear breakins. The tires squealed as I peeled out, taking the winding ramp up to the atrium at high speed. As I crossed the threshold and pulled into the atrium, curious vampires quickly put two and two together: Truck going out means doors to outside world opening. Excitement flared in their vibrant irises. They began flocking toward the car entrance. “Great,” I groaned as I slowed the truck to a halt. “This won’t attract attention.” I pressed my hands against my temples.
Mage suddenly appeared in the passenger seat, the act of opening and closing the truck door happening too fast for me to even notice. “What can I do to help?”
The concerned vampire citizen again, are we? I leveled a stare at her. “Look, let’s get one thing straight: I don’t trust you, and you sure as hell would be smart not to trust me.” An amused look crossed her face as she nodded. I sighed heavily. “I can’t have a crowd of hungry vampires in the tunnel when I drive out the exterior door. People will see them—see what they are—even if they can’t get past the Merth.”
“Consider it handled. Be on your way.” With that, she vanished from my passenger seat and reappeared outside the truck, standing in front of the crowd. I inched forward, the low rumble of the big truck’s engine drowning out whatever Mage was saying. It had the desired effect, though; the crowd dispersed to the opposite end of the atrium.
A rap on my window stopped me. Viggo. I rolled down my window, curious.
“Which bank?” he asked.
I studied him, suddenly on edge. “Why do you need to know?”
He rolled his eyes in exasperation. “So we know when you’ll be back and we can move everyone from the gates again! You’ll need to open them to get back in, won’t you?”
“Oh . . . ” I hadn’t thought of the trip back. “Same place as last time.”
“Okay. So we should expect you back here within the hour. Call us when you’re near.”
“Yup.” Strange. Too helpful. What do you have up your sleeve, Viggo? My head was beginning to spin, trying to keep up with everyone’s various motives.
Mortimer appeared behind Viggo. “Keep a look out for them.” Mortimer’s bitterness with the People’s Sentinel was long-standing and obvious.
You have no idea, Mortimer. I rolled my eyes, but anxiety flooded my body. They were out there, watching. We had been careful not to react, not to hunt them down, wanting to sort out this mess with Veronique first. But now, with what I had just learned from Mage, I didn’t know if it was better to exterminate, or continue in silence. To be . . . complacent. That was the word Mage used. Had we become complacent? Was this another step down our predetermined path?
I waited as Mortimer punched in the code to open the interior garage door—I hadn’t changed that one. Throwing the truck into gear, I pulled into the tunnel, checking in my rearview mirror for any desperate vampires. None moved from the far side of the atrium. None attempted to defy Mage. It was as if she had power over them. Maybe she did.
I made it to the blood bank dock with two minutes to spare, after a small detour through the city to shake any tails. Normally I could tell when I was being followed, but today was not the day to take chances. The delivery entrance for this bank was in a wide alley, the tall brick buildings on either side providing some privacy from the street. I backed the Navigator up to one of the delivery doors and threw it into park to wait for Reggie. My fingers strummed the steering wheel as I watched various trucks at different stages of unloading through my black-tinted windows. Guilt fluttered as I thought of the generous people who had unwittingly donated to feed forty hungry vampires. It took the meaning of saving lives to a whole new level.
I sensed the approach a second before the white knuckles wrapped against the window. My finger on a button rolled the window down and I regarded my blood dealer, an unusually pale, blonde man who reeked of terror. “Is something the matter, Reggie?” I asked in my sweetest tone. Apprehension tightened my insides. He shouldn’t be frightened of me . . .
“There’s an unmarked delivery truck on its way from a drive,” he answered in a rush, ignoring my question. “I’ve deleted it from the main system so it’s free for the taking.”
Unmarked. That meant I could leave the Navigator here. Much easier than unloading and reloading. I flashed him my most appreciative smile as I pulled a thick envelope full of cash from the glove compartment and handed it to him. Viggo had cash stashed everywhere. “For your troubles.”
His eyes widened briefly as he took it, then he looked quickly around to check for witnesses before stuffing the envelope inside his lab coat. I heard the loud rumble of an approaching truck. “There it is,” he confirmed, turning to leave.
My hand shot out to grab his forearm. “Thank you, Reg.” He glanced down at my hand, then up at my face, giving me the chance to lock eyes with him. I needed to strengthen the compulsion for the next time I needed blood. “There’s no need to worry, Reg. I’m harmless. I would never hurt you,” I crooned, waiting for the hypnotic trance to kick in. “I may come back for more blood in a few weeks. Please be ready and willing to help me out.”
He nodded slowly, as if listening, but the haze of a compelled person did not register in his blue eyes. That’s strange . . . am I losing my touch? The second I let go of Reggie’s arm, he bolted into the building.
If I had time, I’d follow him in and try again. But I didn’t have time, I decided as a hospital-green cube truck parked beside me. No telltale blood-donor markings. Perfect. Hopping out of my Navigator, I opened the truck’s passenger side door and swung smoothly into the seat, earning a pleasantly surprised look from a balding delivery man in his sixties.
“Hello, sir. I believe you have a delivery for me?” I crooned, focusing in on his watery irises, pulling his mind toward mine as I had just attempted with Reggie. This time it worked.
“Do I?” he slurred.
“Yes. Please step out of the truck and begin walking away. Go home and take a nap. When you wake up, you’ll remember nothing about this truck or me. Right?”
“Right,” he drawled. Still mesmerized, he pawed absently at the door with his left hand, finally opened it, and spilled out of the truck. He staggered down the alley toward the street as if drunk.
“Okay. Now,” I murmured, sliding into the driver’s seat. I studied the truck’s gearshift. “At least it’s not a rig,” I muttered under my breath. Those were a pain to drive. I threw the truck into drive and began rolling forward.
Two black Dodge extended-cab pickup trucks pulled in front of me, blocking my path. I slammed on the brakes as four burly men hopped out of each, a mixture of fear and determination in their eyes as they peered up at me. My attention flew down to their hands. There it was, the Sentinel tattoo. That meant they knew this redheaded, green-eyed woman was no ordinary woman. This was no accidental encounter.
Rage flared within me. They had gotten to Reggie, used him for an ambush. But how had they broken my compulsion? “Oh,” I murmured, the puzzle pieces fitting together into a hideous picture. There was only one way to break a vampire’s compulsion: witch magic. That meant either Mage’s prophecy was coming true and the Sentinel was allied with the witches, or Ursula was back in action as a thorn in my side. I hoped for the latter at this point but, either way, I didn’t have time for this.
I briefly considered ramming the trucks but decided against it. The damage might stall the delivery truck. Plus, the noise would most definitely attract the attention of curious passersby. I couldn’t cause a scene in broad daylight in front of a blood bank.
I sighed heavily and rolled down the window. A gust of frigid November air struck me. “Hello, gentlemen!” I called cheerily.
The one closest to my door—a heavyset, brown-haired man of six feet—edged forward. He wasn’t getting too close, though. Smart. “You don’t look like the typical truck driver,” he answered with a nonchalant grin, trying to play up his ignorance of my identity. He was a decoy, of course, meant to distract me from the two men to the right who were busy readying a flamethrower drawn from a compartment in the back of one truck—the Sentinel’s weapon of choice against us. It was stupid, really, given the speed and power of a vampire, yet they still did manage to catch us unawares sometimes. But they hadn’t been dealing with the likes of me.
I couldn’t let this go any further, knowing they’d torch the truck, destroying the blood supply. I gave him my sweetest smile, all while plucking helixes of magic from my body, arming myself. I’d paralyze them. Simple. “Oh, but I’m not. You know that . . . don’t you?”
The grin slid off his face as his eyes darted to the others; he gave the slightest nod.
I laughed aloud. “Seriously? Haven’t you guys realized who you’re up against?”
With that, I sent a bolt of magic out to seize the flamethrower clean from the man’s grip, letting it fly back and smash through the passenger side window to rest on the seat next to me. Glass rained down everywhere but I barely noticed. “I’ve been looking for one of those,” I said conversationally.
As the words left my mouth, I heard a faint click. I whipped my head up to see two men stepping out from behind a truck fifty yards away; one held a bazooka. It was pointing at me. And its rocket had been launched.
With no opportunity to weigh my options, I sent another bolt of magic out—this one a thousand helixes strong—to block the rocket and send it back to its launching point, trying to contain the blast. The truck rocked with the explosion, bricks, metal, and body parts flying in every direction.
“So much for keeping a low profile,” I muttered, silently berating myself for being too cocky to notice their plan unfolding. I need to get out of here. Now. I wrapped magical threads around both trucks. With a flick of my wrist, they were swept aside like a minor inconvenience, crumpling against the brick walls and taking four more men with them.
I revved the truck engine and threw it into gear again. It jerked forward. The decoy man stepped in front of the truck to stop me. He disappeared under my truck as I drove over him, the back tires jolting over his body. I peeled out of the alley, speeding up as I passed various pedestrians running toward the commotion, some eyeing my truck suspiciously and a few of them jotting down the license plate number. I had no time to stop and do damage control. Looking in my rearview mirror at the fiery, body-peppered scene I had just left, I knew I needed a new blood supplier.
Not until the heavy iron door slammed against the ground behind me and I coasted into the atrium was I able to relax. I watched forty pairs of bloodthirsty eyes immediately lock onto the truck, the scent of this much human blood sending their senses into overdrive. The moment that back door rolled up, they’d turn into wild, blood-crazed demons.
“Take it easy. It won’t come as easily next time,” I called in warning as I hopped out the driver’s side, on my way to Mortimer. Their ocular veins began pulsating in response.
My expression must have been grim because panic flitted across Mortimer’s face. “It’s safe to say they’re onto us,” I said dryly, scanning the crowd—for Mage, I realized. I had an overpowering urge to talk to her. She was the only one who could appreciate the coming disaster.
Mortimer’s jaw tightened. “We managed to hide from them for a hundred and twenty years and yet now, at the most critical time, they decide they’re going to have their little revolution.”
“I’m beginning to think they’ve had some help,” I replied, intent on explaining the link to the witches, but Mortimer’s plea interrupted me.
“Please, Sofie. Just bring Evangeline back so we can be done with this and move on. We can lose the Sentinel.”
I set my jaw stubbornly. “You know I can’t do that.”
“You’d risk everything for one human girl?”
I glared at him. “Yes.” I sounded insane, but I didn’t care.
“Well, that’s just brilliant.” He slammed his fist on the bistro table so hard that the metal legs snapped like twigs.
A shrill scream disrupted his tantrum. I turned to see a petite, mousy blonde girl of no more than fourteen step out from behind the truck. The body of a male Ratheus vampire lay on the ground beside her, chin smeared with blood, jerking in convulsions before it stopped and lay still. Dead.
“What the—” I began, but then I looked at her neck, where blood ran from two puncture wounds. The other Ratheus vampires hissed at the young woman but slinked away, their comrade’s body keeping them at bay.
“Ileana!” Viggo exclaimed, rushing over to her, his arms wide for an embrace. “How lovely of you to come!”
The hairs on the back of my neck rose as Viggo led the young girl, her face full of fear, away from the throng. It wasn’t until she moved away from the truck and the overpowering scent of blood that the wave of recognition hit me.
Magic.
She was a witch.
“How did—” I began, then cut myself short as I answered my own question, eyeing the garage door. Of course! She had hitched a ride on the back of the truck while I waited for the garage to open, and I was too frazzled after the attack to notice. That was why Viggo seemed so concerned with when I’d be back—he was planning her entry. “Are you insane?” I shrieked. “Plotting with another witch? Because the first time didn’t teach you enough, you moron,” I grated through clenched teeth, my hand flying up to my forehead. “You’re inviting the Sentinel in!”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Mage’s eyes—not transformed by blood lust, surprisingly—narrow as she studied the girl. Good. She wasn’t impressed either.
“Oh, that’s preposterous.” Viggo dismissed my concerns with a wave of his hand. “That mess with Ursula was a fluke.”
The frown on Mortimer’s face told me he wasn’t a part of this plan. He leaned in close to Viggo, whispering, “We didn’t discuss this.”
“I don’t need your permission,” Viggo responded arrogantly.
The two of them turned to face off.
“But this . . . after the fiasco with Ursula and that one—” Mortimer jerked his chin in my direction “—I thought we were washing our hands of these treacherous creatures.”
“Oh, I know.” Viggo patted the air soothingly. “However, Ileana is more than willing to remain quiet. For the sake of her dear mother, right?” He looked at the woman. Pain flashed in her cornflower-blue eyes.
Of course. I exhaled in disgust. Viggo had hired thugs everywhere. This was obviously a well thought-out contingency plan on his part. The young woman’s mother was likely chained up in a basement somewhere with a bunch of sweaty, hairy men eyeballing her, appalling intentions running through their illiterate brains.
“I can’t guarantee your witch will be safe here,” Mage began, regarding the woman with disapproval, “among this crowd.”
“Oh, we’ve taken care of that! Show them, Ileana,” Viggo said. Ileana lifted a shaking hand to her neck and pulled a tiny vial on a chain from her collar. “Isn’t it lovely?” Viggo crowed. “She stole it from one of her teachers. It makes her blood toxic. Anyone who bites her will die.”
My attention shifted from the vial—a powerful weapon that the Fates must have played a part in creating—to the girl. Her trembling knees knocked together and she wrung her hands, clenching and unclenching her fingers constantly, clearly terrified. And her young age made her practically useless to Viggo; she would have just learned how to find the magic threads within herself, and she would have few spells in her repertoire—and no idea how to bend the laws of physics to create new spells. There was no hard and fast set of rules around sorceress magic. It took years of experimentation; the more cautious witches never truly figured it out. And this witchling was weak, judging by the tiny glow of magic radiating from her. The smug fool in front of me didn’t know that, though.
“Viggo. She can’t break the Merth’s curse. She can’t get Veronique out. She can’t undo anything I’ve done. So let her mother go,” I pleaded. The child would be lucky to tie her own shoes with her magic.
“Gladly! As soon as you release Evangeline.” Viggo turned to the young witch. “This is Sofie. This is all her fault, you know.”
The young witch turned to regard me, contempt flashing in her eyes. I sighed heavily. Great. Yet another enemy within these walls, thanks to Viggo.
“I hope you’re not planning on having her toy with magic,” Mage called, “considering we have a truce.”
“Yes, I recall Sofie couldn’t use her magic, right?” Viggo answered, smiling. “Sofie,” he repeated. Mage’s lips tightened, his emphasis not lost on her. “Ileana is not Sofie. I have done nothing to break our agreement. And what was that other part? Oh yes, no killing of anyone. That includes Ileana, here.”
“She killed Tanner!” Mage threw back, glancing over at the corpse on the cobblestones.
“In self-defense! You can’t hold that against her!” Viggo was testing her honor, seeing if she would back out of the truce she’d imposed. It was silly, really; she could tear both Viggo and this witchling to shreds in seconds, if she chose. But from what I could read of Mage—which wasn’t a lot—her honor, or the impression of her honor, held sway.
Her mouth twisted and she nodded, and I knew Viggo had won.
“If her magic causes anyone any harm, I will strike her down.” I glared at Ileana. “Dead.”
“Agreed! She’s not here to harm anyone!” Viggo exclaimed, throwing an arm proudly over Ileana’s shoulder. She remained rigid, terror-filled eyes looking everywhere but at me now.
With an angry shake of my head, I turned and stalked off.
The glass panes of the French door rattled as I slammed it. I marched straight over to study Veronique’s portrait, as I did every time I stepped foot inside the grand mahogany-and leather-filled parlor. “I hope you’ll understand, Veronique,” I whispered, anticipating the tales painting me as a wicked sister that those two monsters would spin. And she’d likely believe them. As lovely and sweet as my sister was, no one would ever have described her as clever.
I heaved an exhausted sigh. For over one hundred years, I had waited for the Fates to fix this mess and release my baby sister from her tomb. And then, for the last eighteen years, I had spent my days in a bipolar balance of bliss and dread as I watched Evangeline grow up, knowing what I had brought down on her, what my deal had condemned her to. I was exhausted, tired of the magic, of the unknown, of the constant fighting with Viggo and Mortimer, of the hatred boiling inside of me. I hadn’t always been so angry.
Yes, I had a temper—Nathan had always been quick to point that out. I was his fiery redhead. But that fire had evolved into rot, deep within my core. The only saving grace, the only reason the rot hadn’t fully consumed me, was Evangeline. And I would lose her if I didn’t get that damn pendant off her, something I could not for the life of me figure out how to do. Each day I poked and prodded the boundaries of the spell’s weave inside my head, delivered to me by the Fates in a hard, marble-sized packet of magic. But it was impenetrable.
And if that wasn’t enough, now I had the fate of Earth on my shoulders. How would I manage to keep the end of the human world at bay when I couldn’t even control the mess within these Fifth Avenue walls? For God’s sake, I had just unwittingly helped Viggo bring in the enemy! A useless witch, but an enemy, nonetheless.
I pressed my fingertips against my temples, trying to ease my tension. I needed to focus on the more immediate task, the one I could handle: an update for Leo. He needed to know about the Sentinel and the truth of this parallel world. But more importantly, I needed to know how my Evangeline was coping.
Opening my mind up to the portal into Leo’s mind, one of the simplest yet most useful spells I had designed over all my years, I reached out, following my mind’s eye as it sailed down the long, blue-tinged tunnel to the link in Leo’s head. The link I had planted the night I healed his wife. At the time, I had no specific plans for him; I just recognized an opportunity to call on a favor in the future, if needed. Boy, had I ever taken advantage of my dear friend Leo’s debt to me!
I reached the portal in the old warlock’s head within seconds. Oddly enough, it looked like a solid little wooden door at the end of a tunnel. I prodded at it, and sensed it open. How is Evangeline? I sent in greeting. And then I sensed something slither up behind my message. Like a tiny anchor affixed to my words, something was trailing them there, through the tunnel, to Leo. An invader.
I slammed the portal shut and sailed back into my own head, forcefully breaking off the communication before Leo could send out a probe to reply. Someone had tagged onto my message! Few had the skill to pull that off. There were only two possibilities within these walls: the five thousand-year-old vampire who had powers I couldn’t grasp yet, or the meek witchling who couldn’t meet my gaze. Both seemed impossible. Either way, someone would pay.
With shock and rage driving each step, I crashed through the French doors to the atrium, unwilling to take the time to open them. Shards of glass and wood flew in every direction. I didn’t even flinch.
Only a few Ratheus vampires remained in the atrium. The rest, including Caden and friends, were either chasing the blood to the cellar or hiding out—away from the new witch, no doubt. Mage was nowhere in sight. I marched over to where Viggo and Ileana stood. The little witch-girl slipped behind him, her guilty eyes going wide. I had my answer. Her? Seriously? That tiny wisp of a thing, her magic immature and weak? How?
“Oh! I forgot to mention,” Viggo began, his chest puffing out, “Ileana is something of a genius in her circles—decades ahead of where she should be, and extremely powerful.” He reached over to lift the chain of her necklace. “This thing serves a dual purpose; it masks the power of her magic.” He smiled knowingly at me. “I thought it best. I didn’t want you feeling threatened by a witch more powerful than you in here.”
So I wouldn’t suspect her of being able to tap into my communication spell. His words only fed my rage. I stalked toward her, my intentions likely clear as day in my blazing eyes. Had she been able to locate Leo through her probe? No, it would appear not. Viggo and Mortimer would be furiously dialing coordinates to rush their henchmen to Siberia at this very moment.
“Now Sofie,” Mortimer began, stepping forward.
“What? You’re on his side now?” I spat.
“I’ve never been on Viggo’s side,” he answered bitterly. “I’m on Veronique’s side. Unlike you, it would seem.”
My words caught in my throat with that comment. When I spoke again, my voice was even and cool. “So, Viggo, you seem to have found someone who can tap into communication spells. How clever of you. And quick.” My eyes darted over to Ileana’s face, peeking out from behind Viggo’s broad shoulder. What else could she do? I knew she couldn’t undo the tomb spell without the pendant, so Veronique wasn’t going anywhere. I was pretty sure she couldn’t unwind the Merth I had so intricately woven through these walls in an impenetrable barrier. But I wasn’t a hundred percent sure anymore.
“What can I say, Sofie? You’re the one who gave me the idea when you said I’d have to pry it from your head!” Viggo replied with a smug grin. “So, you’ve been keeping close ties to Evangeline through that bastard traitor.”
Fool, I silently admonished myself. But there was nothing I could do about it now, except not allow it to happen again. “Lucky I caught on so quickly,” I murmured.
Viggo’s mouth twisted with displeasure. “Yes, well . . . I guess you’ll have to cut all communication to Leo now, won’t you?”
I struggled to keep my expression calm as panic hit me. He was right. I had to sever my link with Leo, which meant with Evangeline. I would have no way of checking up on her, of knowing how she was doing. And Leo wouldn’t send any messages my way now. He would have sensed me shutting down that connection so abruptly, and I had strictly instructed him not to reach out if he sensed anything “off.” How long before I could connect with him again?
Viggo and I squared off, his smug smile of satisfaction inciting in me the urge to claw off his face. He needed to pay. I wanted him to hurt. I never could punish him before, on account of Evangeline. That wasn’t an issue anymore.
I didn’t have a vampire’s strength that would match the two thousand-year-old vampire, but I had my magic. Magic that could shatter every bone in his body at a steady rhythm that gave them enough time to almost heal properly before rebreaking—over and over again. I felt the evil grin stretch across my face as I glared at him. His cobalt eyes grew cautious, likely glimpsing my intentions, wondering if he had pushed me past my breaking point.
But first, I needed to establish the pecking order. I turned to regard Ileana. “Rest assured, you won’t have another opportunity. And if you try anything on me again, you will die a painful death.”
“I don’t think you are in any position to threaten such a powerful sorceress,” Viggo began, adding sarcastically, “especially with our iron-clad truce.”
But Mage isn’t here right now, is she. I met his warning with a sadistic smile. “You want to see powerful?” I murmured. I had always been a powerful sorceress, even before transforming. Since then, though, my magic had compounded a hundredfold. These two idiots had no idea what I was capable of. It was time they found out.
I raised my hands and thousands of bolts of purple magic shot out of me in every direction with a ferocity I had, until now, hidden from them. Glass exploded from every window and door. Five stories of balconies came crashing down, the concrete and brick pounding the cobblestones and gardens into dusty heaps, sending the Ratheus vampires scuttling for cover. Every plant and flower previously untouched now shriveled. With a flip of my wrists, entire rows of cobblestones tore themselves out of the ground and spun in a tornado-like funnel before torpedoing in all directions. In only seconds, I transformed Viggo’s cherished atrium into a war zone. Only Veronique’s statue and the glass ceiling enclosing the atrium remained unscathed.
Viggo and Mortimer may not have understood the power behind the apocalyptic destruction, but Ileana certainly did; her face paled to a corpse-like pallor. Let that be a warning to you, little girl. “I am in exactly the position I need to be,” I said evenly, then focused on my sister’s vying suitors, “and while I can’t kill you two for my sister’s sake, I can certainly make every day you wait for her a living hell. And those days will stretch for a long, long time if you get in my way again.”
Mortimer had the decency to remain quiet. But Viggo tutted and added, “Temper, temper.”
Strangling a cry of fury, I whirled and stalked off toward the red doors, before I burned him where he stood. Mage was waiting for me in the doorway. Damn it! Of course my destruction of the atrium wouldn’t go unnoticed. I held my hand up as I walked past her. “I know! I’m sorry. It was an exception. None of it was directed at anyone. I needed to prove a point. There will be no more.” I hoped my brush-off would be enough to mollify her. No such luck.
“It’s unsettling, wouldn’t you say?” she observed, her voice soft. “Someone probing your brain, looking for information?” Clearly she had heard the entire confrontation.
“Can you blame me?” I continued up the stairs.
She said nothing in response.
“If she does it again, she’s dead,” I warned with conviction as I threw open the red doors, adding stubbornly, “And no truce will hold me back. I don’t care what you do.”
“I would help you.”
Her words stopped me, not so much because they came as a surprise as because they seemed suspiciously truthful. They left me believing I could trust her, something I knew I most certainly could not. I turned to face her, towering over her petite frame even though I was of average height. “Is there something else you need?”
My tone didn’t seem to bother her. “You had troubles getting the blood?”
Troubles . . . I groaned as my palm flew up to my forehead. With the witchling and the tap into my head, I had forgotten about that disaster. I was dealing with so many different messes, my head spun. “Yes, yes. Of course.” Mage needed to know. I wondered if the attack was on the news already. She joined me and we walked side by side into the building, me detailing the grim reality that was unfolding to my untrustworthy new ally.