“But … why do it in the first place? You’re now at Sofie’s mercy, aren’t you?” I pressed, bewildered by this whole concept.
“Well, to be frank, we didn’t have much choice,” Mortimer explained. He tugged at my arm, forcing me to move up the stairs once again. “After the way the two of us have behaved, Sofie was ready to set us both on fire and peg it on the sorceresses when Veronique awoke. I can’t believe she didn’t. But she didn’t. She gave us a choice. Pledge our allegiance to her, or die. That she gave us an option … well, Sofie finally has earned my full respect.” His head shook reproachfully. “If Mage has taught us anything—if that disastrous attack back in Manhattan has taught us anything—it’s that we must work together. We can’t be going off with our own agendas, with our own plans. We end up sabotaging ourselves. We need a united front against our enemies and to free Veronique.”
Veronique. Again, like the prick of a needle in my flesh, that name. A flash of a menacing witch looming over me, a whip gripped firmly in her hand, posed to strike, turned my blood to ice. With a quick jerk of my head, I tried to dislodge the name and the image. It was a dream … it was a dream … it was a dream … but … what if it wasn’t a dream? No … Max said I hadn’t left. But … what if Veronique was being tortured and Sofie were to find out that I knew? If Mortimer and Viggo discovered that I knew and I kept it from them?
I eyed Mortimer warily. What would he do? Would this so-called fealty to Sofie be enough to protect me by association? I doubted it. But what if …
“How do I do that?” I asked in a whisper, almost afraid to voice the words, that he’d somehow read my intentions in them.
He frowned. “Do what?”
“Get a vampire to swear their allegiance to me.”
Mortimer’s snort echoed through the foyer. “Simple. You don’t.” We reached the top of the stairs. “None of us in our right minds would ever give you that much power over us. But I’ve felt your mousy stares on me for the last day, as if I’m about to stab you in the back, so I thought I’d give you some peace of mind.” Mortimer sighed as we walked down the dimly lit hall toward my room. “No … Sofie is not our enemy. She is honorable and she’ll hold up her end of the bargain. It would do us good to remember that.” I wasn’t sure if he was stating a fact or saying it aloud to convince himself. Either way, I remained silent, content to see if Mortimer would share anything else.
“Those other witches and the People’s Sentinel. They are the enemy. They must be stopped.” Pure hatred cast its shadow on Mortimer’s handsome face. Plain as day, even in the darkness of the dimly lit corridor. “Every last one of them will die, I promise you that. That’s what I should’ve been doing all these years, instead of hiding. I should have been gathering information, planning for the attack. I won’t make that mistake again. Mark my words, every last one of those spineless cowards will die.”
I blanched, my eyes flickering to Julian’s closed door. The Sentinel’s closer than you think, Mortimer …
We stopped in front of my room. Mortimer released my arm and reached for the handle. I expected only a gruff goodnight or a vanishing act, but instead, he shocked me with his next words. “I’m sorry about what they did to your friend. She was a nice girl. Quiet. Much more mature than that other one … It’s a shame.”
I stared at his striking but remote face, searching for a twitch, a quirk, some indication of an ulterior motive, some reason why he would show compassion. Nothing. He slowly reached back to scratch his head as he looked off into nothingness, murmuring, “Terrible thing to witness for him …”
“Bishop,” I said, knowing full well that Bishop’s name was not lost to Mortimer. Vampires were a lot of things. Forgetful was not one of them. He chose not to say it.
“I understand why Sofie has to keep him bound. If I had witnessed Veronique burn like that …” Mortimer’s teeth gritted tightly.
“It was pretty terrible, Mortimer,” I agreed, wincing as the memory of Fiona’s lifeless eyes—once a lively violet—flashed through my mind. The second the words were out of my mouth, I realized my mistake, what I had all but admitted to. Mortimer certainly didn’t miss it, his head cocked to one side as a funny quirk pulled at his brow. “For Bishop to see, I mean,” I added quickly, dropping my gaze to the ground. Stupid Evie! Thank heavens for the Tribe’s magic protecting me from Mortimer’s emotional dissection.
After a moment, I peeked up to see Mortimer nodding slowly, his mind somewhere else again. Was he … empathizing? Was that what all this was? That’s when it dawned on me. Mortimer didn’t drag me away from Bishop because he was annoyed. The entire situation pained him, igniting a compassionate side he had so successfully buried and had little desire to show, I’m sure.
Mortimer pushed open the door to my room and gave a casual wave forward, prompting me to enter. As I submitted, his eyes drifted over to my bed where Max lay stretched out, yellow irises resting lazily on us but not bothering to so much as lift his head. Mortimer snorted. “Look at what my vicious creation has become … You’ve turned him into a stuffed toy!”
“And an incredibly annoying one at that …,” I grumbled, earning a growl of disapproval from Max.
A tiny smile passed over Mortimer’s lips, so fleeting I almost missed it. “Well, I’m glad the giant mutt has served you better than he did me.” Again, another shocking admission coming from Mortimer. When the transfer of “ownership” of Max had happened—a bizarre and surprising event—Mortimer was, at first, livid but he seemed to have recovered rather quickly. Perhaps it was because, deep down, Mortimer didn’t want me to die, and he knew if Max was my constant shadow, it might help avoid that situation.
Mortimer turned to leave.
“You know,” I began, “I …”
“Yes?” Eyes like black coals peered down at me.
I knew what I wanted to say but was it wise? It didn’t matter, I decided. I knew that it was important to say for the simple fact that I meant it. “For what it’s worth … I hope Veronique picks you.” If she’s not tortured to death, I silently added, my lungs tightening.
His face was placid. He said nothing, just stared at me for a long moment until I wondered if I’d spoken or just thought the words. Then, with a curt nod, he disappeared.
And there goes the Mortimer I know and love … I pushed the door closed just as a yawn escaped. Though disappointed it had been Mortimer and not Caden walking me back to my room, at least now I understood why Caden wasn’t here in the first place. It gave me some small level of consolation.
“Who’s Lilly?” I asked Max as I scuttled into bed.
A vampire.
“I know that, Max,” I muttered, rolling my eyes at the ceiling. “But who is she and why does she hate Viggo so much?”
Really? Someone hates Viggo? Shocking …
I let out a loud sigh of exasperation. Clearly, Max was in no mood for anything beyond infuriating me. He was mad about my banter with Mortimer, no doubt. Still …“You’re lucky I need your warmth, dog. Keep your fleas to yourself.” I smiled with satisfaction at his responding grumble. Closing my eyes, I played back the night’s discoveries—this Lilly vampire, the ability to control a vampire, that weird déjà vu connection in the hallway. To top it off, the more-than-civil conversation I’d just had with a nine-hundred-year-old vampire who would’ve killed me only days ago. That last one allowed me a breath of relief. That was, until I remembered he was yet another person I was betraying with my secrets. Tighter and tighter the tension cinched around my organs, grabbing hold and squeezing until I was sure something would implode. Sleep finally came, just as the sky began to lighten outside, as I was wondering how long before my worries would seize my heart completely.
***
I woke to snowflakes drifting down from a blanket of gray clouds outside my window. I didn’t move right away, content to lay perfectly still and memorize the calm, magical scene, imagining that I was inside a snow globe of old world Paris. Calm and safe, free of aching muscles and throbbing neck wounds, toxic Tribe magic, and a looming war. I could handle living in that bubble. As long as Caden was in it … Caden. Why was it impossible to go five minutes without flashes of those jade eyes entering my mind, without wishing I could see him? Was this normal? How do people function? This was borderline obsessive!
I breathed deeply. That helped marginally. It also highlighted to me that, even with more than ten hours’ rest, I felt worse than I had yesterday. At least I hadn’t had another Veronique nightmare.
The bed jostled and creaked as a heavy weight eased off it. I know you’re awake. It’s past noon. I’ve been listening to your stomach rumble for the past hour, Max announced.
I didn’t hazard a move, even though Max’s announcement of the late hour surprised me.
Come on! You’ve barely eaten. You need to eat if you’re going to regain your strength.
I let out a small groan. Max was right, of course. My stomach growled like it was going to turn zombie on itself, looking for food.
Come on! I’m aging here! Max exclaimed.
“Stop being so dramatic,” I grumbled. “I know werebeasts don’t age.”
His claws clicked against the hardwood floor as he rounded the bed. Stopping directly in front of me, he leaned down to prod me with a wet nose. I’m sure Caden’s waiting for you downstairs.
“Ugh … You and your evil dog tricks,” I muttered. But his ploy worked. The thought of seeing Caden ignited my will power. All I had to do was get my broken body up. Shaking my covers off, I threw my arm around Max’s strong neck to pull myself out of bed. Weak-kneed and bleary-eyed, I grabbed a fluffy gray sweater and skinny jeans on my way to the washroom, a brief flicker of satisfaction warming me. I secretly loved having my stylish vampiress dressing me again. As long as it didn’t involve poodles, that is.
Walking the hall toward the foyer, I could see that someone had transformed the place from an exquisite chateau to one decked out for a holiday magazine photo shoot while I slept. Miles of garland trailed the railings, festive wreaths hung artistically from every sconce, topiaries with frosted sugarplums adorned side tables alongside simple yet elegant pillar candles. Steroid-fed white poinsettias rested in bunches of three around the entrance and at the two main hall entrances off of the left and right. Warm scents of apples and cinnamon wafted through the air. It was magical. It was excessive. It was like Christmas threw up on the chateau.
“How in the world …” I began but my words trailed off, in awe. Had I seen any of this last night? No! “How could she have done this in a matter of hours? It’s … she’d need an army! It’s just … impossible!”
Max snorted. Really? You’re still using the word impossible when it involves Sofie?
Unable to wrap my mind around the transformation, I shook my head, wondering if Sofie did in fact have an army—an army of Oompa-Loompas packed away in cupboards, waiting to serve her every whim. It wouldn’t surprise me.
I followed Max through a maze of unexplored decorated hallways until we pushed through a door into a toasty kitchen filled with the delicious scent of gingerbread. Two mature, plump ladies fiddled over a large stove, prattling away in French. They turned to offer me toothy grins, echoing simultaneously, “Bonjour!”
“Uh … bonjour,” I repeated. They nodded and smiled politely at me, and then turned back to their simmering pots. Clearly, a conversation with me wasn’t going to happen.
“Where’s Caden?” I whispered to Max, trying not to make it too obvious that I was talking to a dog.
Before he could answer, Sofie entered from the side door. “You’re awake! Finally!” she sang out with a broad grin. Her mirth was short-lived, though. Her eyes narrowed and her nose wrinkled as if she had spotted a cockroach scurry past.
My face scrunched in alarm. “What?”
She said nothing, her minty irises zeroing in on my face. The hairs on the back of my neck stood as a strange tingling sensation took over my body, like a thousand tiny little fingers pricking my skin, unable to break through.
“What are you doing to me?” I asked, a touch of hysteria in my voice.
The tingling vanished. Sofie smoothed over her face and her typical calm, unreadable expression took over. “You could feel that?”
I nodded.
A tiny twitch of her upper lip was the only reaction. “How are you feeling?” she asked coolly.
“Okay, I guess. My neck is starting to heal,” I gestured to the uncovered bite marks. Sofie strolled over with quick, even strides to inspect them closely. Her mouth curved down in a satisfied expression. “Good. Aside from that, how are you feeling?”