Taking in the four of them—four powerful vampires, unbound—I allowed myself the tiniest hint of optimism, feeling the scale tipping ever so slightly in our favor. All we needed was Sofie, and then maybe we’d have a hope in hell.
Viggo and Mortimer froze midstride, shocked eyes riveted to the broken body in my arms. With a roar, Mortimer dashed forward. I wasn’t sure if he didn’t see the light pink wall or if he didn’t care, but he slammed right into it, stumbling back with a grunt.
“Veronique!” A long pause. “Veronique!” When she didn’t respond to his voice, Mortimer’s hands flew to his forehead.
“She’s alive,” I assured him, searching her wrist for a pulse, praying to God I wasn’t lying. Mortimer turned to Wraith, disdain twisting his mouth. “Don’t you have a specific purpose here?”
“To keep Evangeline from all harm,” Wraith spewed the directive, oblivious to the contempt in Mortimer’s voice.
Mortimer’s hands flew forward with force. “Does this look like she’s safe? Go in there! This magic can’t stop you! Go! Save her!”
With feet planted firmly in their spot, Wraith shot back, “Not possible.”
While their exchange continued, Viggo paced the outer perimeter of the magic bubble like a caged bear, his cold blue irises shifting from Veronique to me to Imogen, assessing.
“How did you get her out?” His whisper was an arctic breeze. My blood ran cold with his question. Leave it to Viggo to get to the heart of the matter. I concentrated on breathing, feeling my chest rise and fall, trying to calm myself. Let this lie die with me …
Imogen shrugged. “I wish we could take credit for it, but she came out on her own, not long after we took over.” A rare flicker of surprise gave Viggo away and Imogen’s dark stare passed over to me. With it, the recognition that I dreaded. “You didn’t tell them, did you?”
She may as well have stomped on my chest a dozen times. My shoulders folded in as I winced, as I felt the blood drain from my face. I couldn’t bear to look up to meet Mortimer’s meaningful glare and so I hung my head, studying Veronique’s ashen face, praying this would blow over, that the significance of her question would be lost to them.
Not a chance …
“Little lamb … did you know that Veronique was out?” Viggo’s glacial hiss cast frostbite into my fingertips. How did I respond? I had no clue. A lie sounded no better than the truth. Bile rose in my throat as I struggled for words.
There were no words.
I bit my tongue and maintained my focus on Veronique’s closed lids. Dead silence filled the atrium and I could feel their hateful eyes boring into my head.
“Evangeline!” Mortimer’s booming voice yanked my head up against my will, commanding my attention. My body began to tremble as I found chocolate brown orbs on me, a torrent of emotion in them. For him, I needed to explain.
“I’m sorry, Mortimer,” I croaked. “I wanted to tell you. I wanted to tell you all. It was too risky, though. You would have attacked.”
Mortimer’s jaw set firmly as he listened to my confession. I couldn’t read him. Not rage, not disappointment, not betrayal, not hatred. Nothing exposed in his cold stare—a stare that made me want to curl up and die.
Viggo was not so tolerant. He seethed, all shred of his normal charming psychopathic façade gone, replaced with gleaming white teeth and murder in his eyes. I wasn’t sure if it was the situation or the embarrassment of being tricked by such a naïve human that had him so irate. “I will tear you to pieces and describe every second of it to Sofie when she arrives. I will …” With a maniacal howl, he dove for the nearest group of Sentinel.
They didn’t have a chance.
In seconds, a pile of bloodied and torn corpses lay in Viggo’s wake. In his blind fury, he had managed to free three of the captured wolves. Grinding bones and howls of agony filled the atrium and I watched with a mixture of horror and fascination as they morphed into wolf form. In the chaos, Ivan and the fifth wolf broke free and transformed. All five of them now stood with hackles raised and teeth bared, poised to strike but holding back.
Gasps of disgust assaulted my ears as the witches watched their guard crumble outside their wall. “Stand down, soldiers!” Imogen shouted, stopping the few dozen living Sentinel from moving.
Viggo’s cold blue eyes turned back to me as if to say, you’re next. I cowered, clutching Veronique’s head tighter, thanking God and the Fates and anything else that had kept me alive so far, for the magical wall keeping Viggo from getting his wish.
“Who …” The single word wrenched my focus down. Olive green slits gazed at me. Veronique had been pulled back from the brink. For how long, I had no idea. I needed to make it worthwhile. “I’m sorry for all this, Veronique. Please believe me!”
A tiny sympathetic smile answered me. I didn’t know what it meant or if she even knew what was happening, or if she was already crossing over. Smoothing her hair off her forehead, I gently propped her head up and turned it so she could see outside of the circle.
“Mortim …” She whispered, her frail hand dragging along the broken cobblestone, crooked fingers reaching out to him.
Mortimer dropped to his knees as close to the circle as possible, his brow furrowed, horror marring his rugged features. “Veronique! We’ll get you out. I …” His voice cracked, “I didn’t know.”
“I’m here too, my love!” Viggo cried out, mimicking Mortimer’s position and dropping to his knees beside his rival, the charm again thick in his voice. “We had no idea you were out.” Lethal eyes flipped to me. “We would have come sooner.”
“I … I …” Veronique croaked, her words stunted by a violent coughing spasm. Sharp gasps sounded as a trickle of blood escaped the corner of her mouth.
“Please. Release her. I will turn myself over to you without challenge. Just please, let her live,” Mortimer pleaded with Imogen, still on his knees.
“You will turn yourself over to me because you have no other choice. Negotiating is pointless,” Imogen hissed, showing a set of perfectly even teeth. “You can’t break through this wall, and if you make me wait too long, you’ll watch her die.”
If looks could kill, the one Mortimer laid upon Imogen at that point should have withered her into a hundred-year-old corpse. Turning to Mage, he hissed, “Where the hell is Sofie?” And I realized then, he didn’t know.
“She’s … indisposed,” Mage answered cryptically.
“Oh, she’ll be here,” Imogen chuckled. “She’s never far behind these two.”
“Doubt it,” came Mage’s cool response, leveling Imogen with a hateful stare.
“Damn her!” With another vicious war cry, Viggo tore away, the lone witch outside the circle his next target, followed by three more Sentinel men. If this continued, none of Imogen’s guard would be standing. Did she care?
A lighthearted cackle contradicted the massacre like polka music at a fatal car wreck. “Go ahead! For every one you kill here, we have another hundred hidden away for tomorrow.” A quick glance at the standing Sentinel showed unease with Imogen’s license to kill. Feet began to shift backward, eyes darting toward the gaping exit.
“In that case,” Mage murmured with a vicious smile. I turned in time to see her fingertips slip from Bishop’s solid bicep. She waved him forward. “You’ve earned it. Let none escape,” she ordered.
Bishop didn’t hesitate, not for a second. The wolves took up his flanks, mowing down any Sentinel who dared run.
I buried my gaze in Veronique’s face again as silent tears welled in my eyes and screams of terror echoed, my heart aching for what they had turned my dear broken friend in to. This was quickly spiraling down into hell. How long before it simply exploded and we all ceased to exist?
Veronique was still conscious, her eyes straining to see what was happening beyond the curtain of my draped hair. I wouldn’t let her see, though. She didn’t need her last memories of life to be this. And she couldn’t die without making her decision. The right decisi
on.
“I wasn’t lying about Viggo,” I whispered. I felt a ripple of tension course through her body but I pushed forward. “You must choose Mortimer, Veronique. You must!”
“Yes, you must,” a familiar French lilt repeated, and my heart stopped. My head flew up. There, in the midst of pandemonium outside the circle, her red mane cascading over her shoulders stood Sofie. For just a second, I smiled. I actually smiled. For just that second, our eyes locked and I believed everything would be okay.
She broke her focus to measure the situation, her eyes narrowing as she took in the freshly killed bodies; to Viggo and Bishop, in the midst of the kill, who hadn’t noticed her yet; to the witches within the circle. They skimmed over Fiona’s resting spot. I could swear I caught a ghost of a smile but … No. Sofie would never find amusement in Fiona’s death …
“Sofie,” Imogen purred, “just like that. It’s as if I called and you answered. We’re one big happy family now, aren’t we?”
Sofie’s lips curled back into a hideous sneer. “I’m sorry. The Fates and I had some things to discuss.”
Imogen struggled to keep her face composed. I could tell Sofie’s words and confident air ruffled the leader.
Viggo took notice of Sofie and stopped tearing apart the Sentinel to run to her side. Bishop, in his own little world of oblivion, continued without abandon.
“Do something!” Mortimer screamed, still on his knees. “Break down this barrier and kill them!”
“I can’t.” Two words I hadn’t expected from Sofie. My stomach tightened. Sofie always could. Or at least she could try. No … I hadn’t expected this.
“Even Sofie’s not strong enough to break a spell cast by twenty-four powerful sorceresses,” Imogen said as she approached me. Her hand grasped my shoulder, digging into my bone as it yanked me up. I scrambled to follow while trying to protect Veronique’s head from smashing against the stones.
“But there’s so much I can do,” Imogen said. “First, you will contain that madman over there.” Imogen nodded her head toward Bishop. “And then we will immobilize you with this lovely weed you made available to us.” Imogen dragged me along as she prattled off demands. “Once that’s done—”
Sofie’s snicker stopped Imogen dead in her tracks, bristling. “Or should I just kill them all here in front of you instead? Would that be more satisfactory?” Imogen offered.
“You’re so lucky I can’t get inside that circle, Imogen. All I’d have to do is get to you. Then this spell would break and the five of us would end you.” Sofie’s plump lips curled in a way I so rarely saw. A predator’s smile. “We’d take such pleasure in it.”
Imogen jerked my body forward so I was standing in front of her like a shield, her grip of my arms tightening painfully. “Like I said … you can’t get inside this circle, so there’s no point running through your sick fantasies.”
“You’re right. I can’t.” Mint eyes rested on me for a moment before moving back to my captor.
She couldn’t … but I was already inside the circle. Sofie was sending me a message. She was telling me what I needed to do. I needed to take Imogen out to save us all. Me—the terrified, weak human.
Swallowing hard, I glanced around. How? I was a human surrounded by a ring of powerful witches, one of whom had a knife on Caden, ready to dig out his heart. It needed to be quick and effective. My eyes roamed the ground for weapons. Cobblestone to the temple? Did she need to be dead or just injured? God. I broke out in a cold sweat. This could end in disaster. Everything I did seemed to turn into a disaster. I looked back at Sofie, pleading silently for her to give me something to work with. I got nothing in return except flaring nostrils. A sign of impatience. I was failing her. I needed to do something now.
Suddenly, Sofie stretched her arms out to her sides, palms up. She tipped her head back and yelled, “We made a deal! Any time now, Terra!” Terra?
“What’s she talking about?” Imogen muttered, her fingers raking my arms, her tension increasing. I tried edging away but she yanked me back with her death grip.
And that was when I felt something cold and hard against my calf.
My dagger.
That would work. If I could just reach it …
“You can’t win,” I said, my voice hoarse, a desperate plan unfolding in my head.
“Shut up!” Imogen lashed out, annoyed.
Hope sparked inside me. Annoyance was what I needed. I needed to goad her further. “They’ll get in here. They’ll beat you. Sofie will outsmart you. She’ll always be smarter than you.”
“Shut up, you little bitch!’ She threw me to the ground. I landed on my forearms and knees, the stones cutting into my flesh. I barely felt it, though, my heart pumping fiercely. I could see Caden’s face at this level. Our eyes connected. I held his gaze as I slowly reached down to my boot. Could he tell what I was doing? Without moving my head, I scanned the group. Could they? So many eyes. Too many eyes. I needed a distraction. Something other than the ring of vampires around us.
“Are you so afraid of a few vampires that you have to hide behind this wall? Come on, Imogen! Fight like a real sorceress! Show me what you’ve got!” As if reading my mind, Sofie began shouting obscenities at the group, provoking them, distracting them. I shifted my weight as I pulled one leg up, steadying my foot on the ground. My hand slid into the boot. Was Sofie watching? She couldn’t know what I was doing. She didn’t know I had a knife, I realized. Whatever. Maybe she expected me to smash Imogen’s head in with a stone. All I needed to do was stop this she-devil, and the circle would be broken.
Or maybe I’d fail. Maybe I’d die trying.
Inhaling a lung’s full of courage, I glanced one last time at Caden. His eyes hadn’t left me. I love you, I mouthed, fighting back the tears that threatened as my hand wrapped around the handle of the dagger—Caden’s gift to me.
“What are you doing?” Imogen’s sharp voice froze my hand. I looked up to see her towering over me, glaring suspiciously, at my hand.
I failed. Already. And I hadn’t even tried.
All of a sudden, a banshee’s wail let loose in the atrium, setting my hair on end. Heads whip around. I followed their gaze to the one mountain of burned bodies within the circle, where tiny fissures spidered through the hard ash.
Something was breaking through.
It quickly rose, unfolding like a butterfly for the first time. A naked body. A female body by the supple curves taking form under the soot-colored skin. Good God, what new monstrosity has Imogen created? Its eyelids burst open. Steely violet eyes. I knew those eyes.
“Fiona!” Bishop’s bellow sent shivers down my spine. He crashed to his knees, using one hand for support, as if delivered a deadly blow, an eternity of sorrow vanishing from his face.
Screams of terror exploded within the bubble. I turned to see Sofie smiling gloriously. And then she turned to me and she roared, “Now!”
I didn’t waste another second doubting. I yanked the dagger out and stood in one fluid motion. My arm wound back above my head, aiming for my target with all the strength I could gather. For Caden. For Veronique. For me.
And then I struck.
I felt the blade slide into Imogen’s back, tearing through muscle, splintering bones, and finally piercing something deep inside. I yanked the blade out with force, winding to strike again. Imogen spun around, teetering forward, her eyes wide with shock. For just a moment, I thought I had failed. Her mouth opened to scream. A gurgling sound came out, and then she collapsed. Dead.
The pink translucent glow evaporated and, with it, any hope of survival for these witches. Red hair and fur flew past me in a whirl, tearing Merth bindings off, freeing everyone to exact their own personal revenge. I stood there holding my bloodied dagger, immobile, unable to focus on any one person. Not wanting to focus on any one person for too long. My sweet childlike Lilly, who fed me drug-laced warm milk only hours ago, tore someone’s throat out mere feet away from me. Max and his brothers ran side by
side to tear down sorceresses trying to escape. All around me, sorceress bodies fell as their enemies—my friends—held true to their promises.
But where was Veronique? My eyes flashed wide with panic as I searched the ground for her. Mortimer was there, gently lifting her up, a beautiful, wide smile like nothing I’d ever seen on him before, transforming him into the man Veronique no doubt fell in love with.
“Evie!” I searched the chaos. There, standing over the blond, his fist on the dagger protruding from her chest, Caden stood smiling, his face the picture of relief. We did it. We saved Veronique. We saved Bishop. I threw a wink and a kiss to him. His smile vanished, his attention flying to my right, panic igniting them. I turned.
Viggo lingered five feet away, hateful eyes devouring me. I grappled for air as it left my lungs. He had promised, after all. I then felt a sudden breeze, accompanied by the beginning of Caden’s scream.
And then nothing.
***
White mist clouded my eyes. Instinctively, I reached up to rub them. When my hands moved away, four celestial beings formed in front of me, their colorful irises sparkling as they gazed down at me.
“Hello, Evangeline.” The man speaking had the most beautiful voice.
“Where am I?” I asked as I took in their white gowns and the gossamer wings floating behind them. Angels? Am I dead?
“That depends …,” he answered. I realized he was answering my unspoken question. The fact that he could read my mind didn’t bother me. Not much bothered me right now. “We are the Fates. Do you know why you’re here?”
I felt my head shake back and forth dumbly. The Fates … I was meeting the Fates?
My surroundings shifted and I now stood beside myself in the atrium, just as I’d left it moments prior. I watched a replay of those last few disastrous seconds as an invisible bystander—of Caden’s panic, of Viggo flying toward me. Of Viggo snapping my neck.
Viggo kept his promise to me.
“I’m dead.”
“For the moment,” a female Fate answered. “You have an important choice to make, and not long to make it. We made an arrangement with Sofie. You must make your choice—do you remain human or transform to become a vampire?