If I hadn’t, Viggo would’ve found me. He probably would’ve killed me.
“So, we go in and get rid of the fledglings and kill Viggo. That’s the plan?”
“Yeah.”
“Sofie won’t like this,” I warned.
He snorted. “That’s an understatement. She’ll find some way to interfere. For our own good, of course,” he mocked.
I nodded in agreement. She would. I remember the lengths she went to keep Bishop pinned down after losing Fiona. It was for his own good, certainly. But when did that end? When had being with Sofie become more dangerous than being without her?
I bowed my head into his chest and let my hands glide along the curves of his sculpted chest. “I don’t even need to sleep anymore, but I want to. Just curl up in a ball, close my eyes, and enjoy the silence.”
“I know what you mean.” A hand brushed my hair off my forehead. “It’s what happens when you know you have to make a hard decision.”
*
Their low murmurs carried through the wide, low-ceilinged mine passage. Bishop sat with his back propped against one of the mossy stone supports that the miners had carved around, his fingers twirling strands of Fiona’s caramel-brown hair. She lay stretched out against the cold ground with her head resting in his lap, staring up at the ceiling.
Obviously lost in thought.
How would she take the loss of her best friend of seven hundred years? Was there a point where length of time no longer mattered and pain was simply pain?
Max lay with his chin resting on his paws on the other side of Julian. Normally the giant beast flopped down onto his side like an animal sunbathing. But this was the pose of a dejected animal.
Letting go of Caden’s hand, I kneeled next to him, giving him a scratch behind his ear. I’m so sorry about everything, Max, I said silently, hoping my ability hadn’t somehow been lost. I’d almost lost him. Had Viggo been less malicious, had he not wanted Max to suffer watching his brothers murdered, I would not have had the chance to apologize.
For once, Viggo’s savagery had worked in my favor.
The beast’s sad eyes lifted to me told me that my sentiments had reached him.
There was a long pause. You lied to me.
I sighed. I had to tell Julian about Amelie missing. Even thinking her name brought a painful lump to my throat. He took off for Manhattan and I couldn’t stop him.
So you lied to me, Max pressed. Again.
I didn’t know what else to do. I was afraid you’d come after me and we needed you here.
A lot of good that did.
I’m so sorry, Max.
After a long moment, he mumbled, So am I, Evangeline. There was no humor in his words, no typical sarcasm, not threats of “don’t do it again or else” or “what am I going to do with you.” Any of those things would’ve made me feel better. Instead, I felt a hundred times worse. I had betrayed him.
Betrayal seemed to be running rampant in our little group.
He readjusted his head to face the opposite way, and I got the distinct impression that was his way of telling me that the conversation was over.
“What’s the plan?” Bishop asked solemnly as Fiona sat up. Looking at the grief in their faces was hard, so I turned to Julian, who had maintained that mask of composure, a sad smile touching his lips.
“From here on in, the six of us stick together, no matter what,” I said. “We don’t let anyone separate us; we trust only each other.”
“What about Sofie?” Fiona asked, her tone sharp.
“We trust only each other,” Caden repeated.
My gaze shifted back to Max as I added, “We tell each other everything. No matter what. No secrets.”
“Well, here’s something for you: I’m going back in there,” Julian said, his jaw set with determination. “I don’t expect you all to go with me but I need to see for myself that Amelie couldn’t survive.”
Caden was quick to answer. “We’ll go with you. We all need that same closure.”
“And we need to finish this, even if everything goes to shit. We have to make sure she didn’t die for nothing,” Bishop said.
A moment of silence carried through the space.
“How are we going to get around Sofie? We all know she’s going to stop us.” With a snort, Julian added, “Viggo was right. She is predictable.”
“She doesn’t decide for us anymore. We decide what we will do and she can agree or not,” I said, studying each of their surprised faces. Maybe because such a statement was coming from me who, in the past, had always given in to Sofie’s requests and demands. Their loyalties to Sofie—never officially consummated through a pledge of allegiance to her—only existed because of their unspoken allegiances to me. And I’d never requested it of them. I simply knew that we were all in this together.
Fiona’s husky voice filled the room, changing the topic. “Julian said you healed him, Evangeline. He said you could heal people. Is that true?” Her violet eyes were piercing, even in the darkness of the mine.
“It would seem so.” I shrugged. “But don’t ask me to explain how because I have no idea.” In the spirit of “no secrets,” I said, “I can also compel vampires.” Fiona, Bishop, and Julian started in surprise. “And I can see Sofie’s magic when she’s casting spells. I saw her forming those bubbles around us back in Manhattan. I just didn’t know what they were.”
Fiona and Bishop shared a look, giving slight nods in agreement. “Could you heal us? Like you did for Julian? It’s not that we don’t care about Amelie,” she rushed to say, furtive eyes flashing to Julian and then to Caden. “It just … hurts a lot right now. If we have to go back in there, we want to do it with clear heads.”
I smiled at her. “Of course I will.”
Caden’s hand squeezed mine. “All of us,” he whispered softly.
It took no thought at all.
Chapter Sixteen – The Fates
“This rift will work to our advantage,” Terra noted as they hovered over the image pool, watching the mortals decide their next steps. To call them “immortal” was preposterous next to true immortality like that of the Fates. “With them apart, the girl may never comprehend what she can do.”
“She has managed to grasp certain concepts quite quickly, and without guidance,” Incendia reminded them drolly. Though he would like to feel pride for his child’s intuition, he knew that that intuition would wreak havoc on this game if it continued.
When Incendia chose the girl as his player in this game, he knew that it was a good move, that it would lead to an impressive confrontation. The Fates so enjoyed confrontation.
But they also hated to lose.
It had taken years and many concessions to Terra in order to name the girl his, for Terra could see what a powerful adversary the choice could be. She did not want to lose. She had, after all, chosen the primary player for this game—the redheaded witchling named Sofie—after winning the last round, with every intention of winning again.
The others had selected well—Unda chose the one named “Nathan” as a means of attacking Sofie’s romantic side. That choice propelled the game forward with Sofie’s pleas for help from the Fates. A’ris further complicated the player Sofie’s life by inviting venomous jealousy into the game through the election of the witch, “Ursula.” That player’s hatred and determination far exceeded their expectations.
But they all knew that in the end, it would come down to a face-off between Incendia and Terra’s players.
And Incendia was certain that when the true test time came, his player would choose right.
“Do you think it’s true that the player Sofie will not pray?” A’ris asked, recalling her declaration to all that she no longer would.
“I don’t see how she won’t. When she grows desperate enough.” Terra chuckled to herself. “That silly name … ‘causal enchantments.’”
“Silly the name may be, but they’re the only lifeline for us into this world,” Unda said. It was their one true weakness, if it could be called that. “The only way to interfere without stopping a game before it has run its course.” If they stopped a game, how would they begin a new one? Who would be named victorious? Who would select the next primary player? Ending a game before completion was against the order of things, and the Fates required order.
“That is not true,” A’ris quickly corrected. “Recall we will be granted one audience with the player Sofie should the need arise. That was arranged.”
“Yes, it was.” Incendia nodded his agreement. He had arranged it as a barter for the two requests the player Sofie had made when the Fates had granted her request for an audience with them. “Let us not use it until absolutely necessary.”
Chapter Seventeen – Sofie
“It’ll be days before the military can step foot in there to look for survivors,” I said, studying the ominous clouds taking over the morning sky. From our perch atop a mountain ridge near the mine, my hollow voice carried on the constant breeze. The hollowness was a fitting counterbalance to the rot that had taken up residence inside, a feeling I knew I wouldn’t shake for years to come, if ever.
Based on Lilly’s quick scouting—I really had to hand it to her, unlike the rest of us, she was keeping it together despite losing both Kait and Galen—the bomb may have devastated the city but it appeared the entire northeastern seaboard was paralyzed, electrical systems fried, communications systems broken. We wouldn’t know how far that paralysis extended until a more thorough investigation was conducted.
“They won’t find many,” Mage said, standing directly next to me, her jet-black hair fluttering in the wind. “Perhaps some along the outer ring, if the fledglings who survived haven’t dispatched of them first.”
I dipped my head with the weight of the situation. How many fledglings could’ve survived? Certainly a small fraction compared to the infestation of hours earlier.
Certainly not one tied to the nineteenth floor of a Manhattan office building at ground zero.
“I can’t help but think we should’ve waited.”
“This would have happened anyway. How long did you think the rest of the world would have sat back and simply watched, waiting for the ‘epidemic’ to come to them, before they realized they were at war?” Her voice turned harsh. “Eleven days. That’s how long they waited on Ratheus before this country was bombarded with the world’s nuclear weapons supply. Their peace treaties, their friendships … none of it mattered in the face of true fear. Even now, there are countless conversations taking place behind closed doors, wondering who ordered the attack, who may be next, and what to do about it. Eventually they’ll come to the same strategy—survival of the fittest. Or the most powerful.
“And it doesn’t help that this country’s leaders are likely being counseled by the Sentinel and the witches, pointing fingers at our kind, pushing for harsh offensive tactics to eliminate us before this should happen again.”
“If that’s true, then we’ll never be rid of this threat until every last witch and sentinel is dead,” I said.
“Second-guessing yourself will not change anything,” Mage reminded me.
“But perhaps someone may have found Amelie and released her.” Some unsuspecting human going into the office. If anyone would bother with what was happening around them. “Then she’d still be alive.” And I would not be the treacherous witch who looked directly into Evangeline’s eyes and lied. Watching that comprehension take shape in her mind felt like a scythe sweeping through my gut.
“And this world would have no chance,” Mage pushed. “Now, it does. At least a small chance. We will go in there, finish off the last of them, and then the humans can clean up.”
Clean up? How did one begin to clean up the kind of devastation I had just delivered to them? They had done it—twice—many years ago, in Japan. I remembered that. But these bombs were so much more powerful! And we were talking about New York City!
“Evangeline and the others will never forgive me, will they?” I asked softly. Our kind didn’t know how to forgive. Our emotions governed us too deeply.
Mage’s mouth twisted. “Deep down, they all know that it was the right thing to do. Eventually, they will begin to accept the reality, which is why you mustn’t risk that by throwing your personal doubt at them. Perhaps they will forgive in time. Perhaps not. And if not, then you will learn to survive without it.”
“Maybe I have no interest in surviving without Evangeline’s forgiveness.” Maybe I was tired. Maybe this was too much. Maybe I should just give in, hand the Fates the winner of their game—whoever that was, if I hadn’t just incinerated them in New York City. And, if I had, then did that mean I had somehow won? Because I certainly didn’t feel victorious.