Ileana was locked in the parlor, quietly working on her spell casting, Viggo driving her to exhaustion daily. I couldn’t see what she was doing. The clever little witchling had learned how to mask her weaves well. But just having someone’s magic so freely circulating through the building set my neck hairs on end. I could see it bothered Mage as well, showing daily in her strained features. But as long as Ileana caused no one any harm, she wasn’t breaking the truce. Mage’s diplomacy wouldn’t allow her to kill the little girl out of personal displeasure.
For now, the Merth’s powers still confined the vampires to the building, so things were okay. Tense, with a jealous and volatile Rachel lurking at Viggo and Mortimer’s side, with me ignoring Caden and his friends while keeping watch twenty-four hours a day, but okay. They spent most of their time in the cellar, feeding nonstop. Mage seemed to think it was a good idea; that, if they could hold their resolve, feeding more would help them. It was counter to everything I knew, but I wanted so desperately to believe her that I readily supplied it as needed.
And they needed it. Again. I would be making another trip any night now—another random truck hijacking. The spontaneity was safer in one regard—it made it difficult for Viggo to execute any of his clandestine plans. Who knew what else he had up his sleeve? He had become so distrusting, so secretive, that even Mortimer appeared uneasy around him.
I recognized the soft footsteps approaching on my right as Mage’s graceful glide without looking. We had spent much of the last thirty-two days together. I wasn’t sure what was happening—were we becoming friends? Friends who openly declared their distrust for each other; who were prepared to strike the other dead for any reason. Yet a mutual, unspoken respect seemed to be growing—downright sinister for any other species and yet for us, a requirement. I hadn’t had a friend in over a century, aside from Leo.
Our closeness was driving Viggo insane, I could tell—me allied with someone far superior to him, to the leader of a horde of dominant vampires. Several times, he stealthily slid a comment or question into conversation, fishing for information on Mage. He seemed determined to know about her lineage, where she sat in the pecking order. Was she the original vampire? The one whom the witches on Ratheus created just as the witches had created Earth’s? For some reason beyond my understanding, it was important to him.
Mage remained civil but tight-lipped, divulging nothing. So now Viggo kept his distance. Mortimer and their snaky sidekick, Rachel, followed suit. I was fine with that.
“I think it may be time to time to test our venom,” Mage stated.
Everywhere in the atrium, vampire ears perked up. Viggo and Mortimer, previously flanking the statue, suddenly appeared beside us.
“It’s only been a month,” I reiterated.
“Yes, but they’ve been feeding nonstop.”
“On plastic bags. Bags don’t run away.” The chase of a warm, flowing body was as much the addiction as the end result. Just talking about it stirred excitement within me.
“We may find ourselves short on time soon,” Mage said softly. Unlike me, she was convinced the Sentinel were already planning something big. “Wouldn’t you like to know that this was all for something?”
I was secretly desperate to find out. I wanted to witness a transformation, something I had never done. But I wouldn’t turn this place into a slaughterhouse. “How many people will we go through in trying?”
“Who cares!” Viggo exclaimed.
“I am capable of resisting the urges,” Mage continued, ignoring Viggo as she typically did. “I will be the one to do it.”
I caught a flicker of contempt in Viggo’s eyes and couldn’t help but pause for a vindictive little smile. But then I quickly brought myself back to reality. “And what about the others?” I retorted, my eyes roaming over the group of vampires listening to the conversation, their eyes wide with anticipation. Caden and his friends had resurfaced from the cellar and now stood off in a corner, as usual, listening without appearing to care too much about anything.
Mage turned an icy glare toward those milling around the ruined atrium. “They will listen.”
So sure of her authority over them. Why? “And if they don’t?”
She chuckled. “They will listen to me. And if they don’t,” her voice turned hard, “burn them.”
The dramatic gong of the doorbell announced that our guinea pig had arrived on time, ignorant that the invitation from Viggo was in fact his death sentence as a human.
“Now remember, none of you are to so much as step toward our guest,” Mage called out in a stern schoolteacher-like voice, her eyes on the door. “And if you do, you will die where you stand.”
A chorus of hisses and grunts rose from the cowering group, who likely feared that their lack of control would inadvertently get them torched. My eyes flicked over Caden and the others. Please don’t be the ones to test Mage’s threat.
The doorbell rang a second time. Our guinea pig was impatient. Reaching the exterior door as only I could, I punched in the code that only I knew. The door lock released and the door creaked open. “Good afternoon, Mr. Adesina.” I shot one of my flashiest smiles at the towering Nigerian.
He peered over his sunglasses to appraise me from head to toe, intentionally keeping his expression indifferent. But I knew otherwise. Lewis Adesina—his first name wasn’t really Lewis but that’s what he went by—was very much interested in what this address had to offer him. Lewis was an astute businessman and a high-end drug dealer now residing in the wealthier part of Queens, looking for ways to expand his enterprise. He had piqued Viggo’s interest years ago and Viggo kept tabs on him, silently channeling business his way, watching the man’s wealth grow. That was how Viggo worked. He nurtured the up-and-coming, all while extorting pertinent information needed to swiftly clean out accounts—both local and offshore—once his subject amassed greater wealth. Doing this for two thousand years had garnered an obscene return on Viggo’s investment and efforts. Lewis was now valued at somewhere around eight digits. He made the perfect victim.
“Right this way,” I said warmly, gesturing down the tunnel.
He removed his trench coat and folded it over one arm of his custom-tailored navy pinstripe suit. “What’s this about?” His eyes roamed the tunnel as we walked.
I chuckled. “Do you normally accept invitations to strange places with no idea why you’re going?”
He threw a contemptuous glare my way. “When the address is Fifth Avenue, I’m willing to be surprised.”
That earned another sadistic laugh. “Oh, you’ll be surprised, alright.”
Wariness edged into his aura. Not fear. Guys like this didn’t scare easily.
But soon it would come.
Lewis nervously adjusted his draped coat and the sparkle of a diamond-encrusted watch caught my eye. I couldn’t help myself. “So the meth business is quite profitable for you, I see.”
Lewis pursed his lips and shot me a look of smug disapproval, but said nothing.
“It takes an exceptionally revolting kind of person to nurture fourteen-year-olds into addicts and prostitutes,” I prodded, thoroughly enjoying the moment. It was like poking a cornered rabid raccoon with a long stick.
Lewis sneered. “I don’t know who you are, lady, but don’t mess with me . . . ” His voice faded as we reached the gaping hole that opened onto the destroyed atrium. And his death. His eyes widened with surprise. “What the hell happened in here?”
“Someone messed with me,” I answered flippantly. His deep laughter filled the tunnel. He thinks I’m joking. He lifted long legs over fallen bricks and followed me into the atrium. A new wave of his wariness filled my nostrils.
Mage was waiting. “Hello, Lewis.”
I glanced to my left, where the others huddled in a far corner, shifting their weight from one foot to the other as they watched intently, their eyes morphing. It was as if they could sense the blood pumping through millions of vessels nearby, but they couldn’t figure out how to get to it.
Lewis gave Mage the once-over, as he had done to me. “I’m a busy man. What can you do for me?” he answered, peering arrogantly from his greater height at the diminutive woman before him.
Her coal-black eyes lit up. “Oh, something very important. We can give you immortality.” Mage smiled sweetly as she glided forward. “You’re here to test our venom, so let’s get started. I’m going to inject my venom into you and we’ll see if you survive or not.” Mage’s announcement was so simple, it was as if she were explaining a basic dental procedure.
But Lewis wasn’t distracted from her words “What the—”
Mage was instantly beside Lewis, her leg flying out to knock him to his knees, her dainty hand seizing his chin and effortlessly forcing his head back. Hideous, pulsating veins engulfed the whites of her eyes as she leaned forward—and sank her fangs into his neck.
A wave of terror hit me as Lewis’s fear overwhelmed his aura, followed closely by the unpleasant scent of urine. He jerked wildly, attempting to fight off his tiny assailant. In response, Mage’s left hand moved to his spine and twisted. I heard a sickening snap and his body slackened. There was no more fight from Lewis.
Mage took her time, slowly draining him of his blood. His face grew chalky, his eyes glassy. He would die if she didn’t complete the process soon.
“Mage,” I warned. Bloodshot irises rose and locked with mine. “The test,” I reminded her in a slow, even voice.
She blinked. And then her lip curled slightly—a sign of the pain that came with the release of her venom.
Lewis Adesina’s limp, unresponsive body dropped to lie in a heap on the ground as Mage retracted her fangs, finished. Now sated, her eyes quickly reverted back to their normal coal black as she called, “Someone—a towel, if you please?” Blood covered her chin and hands.
Neither Viggo, Mortimer, nor I moved, our focus riveted on Lewis. Luckily, whatever had kept the Ratheus vampires pinned in the corner no longer held them; Jonah instantly appeared beside her with a white cloth.
“Thank you, Jonah.” She dabbed at her face. “It’s been so long since I’ve changed a human . . . I forgot what it felt like.” With a black high-heeled boot—one of Evangeline’s that, though two sizes too big, I had grudgingly given her—she nudged Lewis in the ribs. A feeble moan escaped him but he remained motionless. Intrigued, I moved closer to inspect our test subject.
“Ah, that’s right. Our Sofie is a virgin!”
I shot an annoyed glare at Viggo, who returned it with a smug grin. He was right, but he didn’t need to announce it. I had never witnessed a transition and, having not experienced the typical method myself, I didn’t know what to expect. Mortimer had described the stages to me once, about seventy years ago. If it worked as planned, Mage’s venom was snaking through every vein in Lewis’s body, spreading like wildfire to infect every inch of him . . .
Suddenly his body spasmed. Like a skittish cat, I jumped back several feet, earning a chorus of chuckles from the audience. I giggled nervously, embarrassed at being surprised so easily but also filled with exhilaration. Few things surprised me. I crouched and crept in slowly again. His eyes were still closed.
“It’s beginning,” Viggo whispered, pointing to a bead of sweat running down Lewis’s forehead. Ten more beads followed in quick succession. Then, with another violent spasm, the half-digested contents of his stomach shot out of his mouth, barely missing me.
“Thanks for the heads-up,” I muttered dryly, deciding to observe from a safe distance. Was it really working? I wonder if . . . With one eye on Mage, I plucked a magical helix and let it slowly float toward Lewis, ready to probe. Coal-black eyes flew to me instantly. She could see it! Would she say anything? Would she complain that I was going against the truce? The slightest nod and the shadow of a smile told me she wouldn’t. It would be our little secret.
My magic invaded Lewis, burrowing through walls of tissue and muscle without reservation to reach his vital organs. Like microscopic probes, the strands found his kidneys, his liver, his heart, all shutting down, hardening into ornaments without purpose. I tested his body temperature. It was plummeting. I flashed the smallest smile back to Mage, my only indication to her that things were going as planned. One step closer . . .
For the next hour, a ring of vampires circled Lewis’s corrupting body, watching the violent spasms and shivers with interest. An hour that felt like ten. The shivering finally stopped. The color began to return to his dark skin, bringing with it a more youthful, healthy look, wiping away blemishes and imperfections—subtly, the awkward bump on the bridge of his nose smoothed and his left nostril, wider than the right, evened out. It was mesmerizing, watching the birth of a true predator.