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.”