by Ilana Waters
“GET BACK HERE!” Abigail heard Sybil scream. “We’re not done yet!”
Abigail searched her magic frantically. Crap. How did Titus turn us invisible? But no sooner had Abigail realized she didn’t want Sybil to find her than she couldn’t see her hands, her coat, or any part of her body. Wow. I guess my powers really are getting stronger.
Sybil rushed in. Abigail had to jump out of the way to avoid being hit—and avoid giving away her location.
“Where in Fate’s name are you, you little interloper?” Sybil snarled. Her eyes flashed. Her face, flushed with anger, was one shade closer to the color of her hair. “I said, where are you? I know you’re here. You can’t hide forever.” Police sirens wailed in the distance. Abigail could hear the heavy boots of the guard coming up the stairs.
“What the fecking hell is going on here?” he demanded. Then, the static buzz of an intercom. “Walker? Burgess? Bloody disaster. Get up here, will ya?” The guard was almost at the top of the steps. “I think someone broke in, or England’s under attack.”
Sybil cocked her head in the direction of the guard, nostrils flaring. “Gods be damned,” she swore through clenched teeth. “Don’t think this is over,” she hissed to the seemingly empty room. She fixed her gaze on the enormous hole in the clock face. One second later, she jumped through it, but not before her body vanished the same way Titus’s had.
Hate to admit it, but that twat has the right idea. Abigail peered over the ledge. It was a long way down. Her heart started thumping again. What if I don’t have enough magic to fly? She heard the rough voice of the guard. “Oy, if someone’s in there, I’m warning you: I’ve got a gun!” The siren wails grew louder. Abigail glanced at the rooftop below and swallowed hard. The door to the clock tower room burst open. Abigail took a deep breath, squeezed her eyes shut, and jumped out the window.
***
The other vampires tried to fly away, of course. But Titus wouldn’t let them.
He was used to the momentary flutter of the heart as the fall began, the feeling of his stomach somersaulting in the air. Gripping their collars tightly, he listened to Carver and Brandy bark and snarl. All three of them careened through nearly two hundred feet of sky, while the ground, the stars, and the Thames fought to control the horizon.
Wham. Their bodies hit the parliament roof, barely missing the Gothic spires of stone. Shingles crashed to the ground and shattered. This time, Titus didn’t have a choice but to let the others go; the force of the landing knocked their collars from his hands. He let the vampires slide down the walls, one on each side, before removing the invisibility spell.
A simple fall like that wouldn’t kill a vampire, and they’d find one another again soon enough. There was no remedy for that. The important thing was to draw them away from Abigail. Titus raised his head to the clock tower. Bursts of light flashed from inside it.
Spells being flung around, no doubt. But he couldn’t risk going back up there, even if he was invisible. That was exactly what Carver and Brandy expected him to do. He’d lead them right back to Abigail, and they’d all be in the same position as when they started.
I hope Abigail can hold her own, at least for a few minutes. He looked up again. The lights were still flashing. Good. That meant Sybil hadn’t been able to finish off Abigail in one blow. She was likely still alive—and fighting back.
“Where are you, Aurelius?” Carver yelled. He’d fallen into the enclosed courtyard on Titus’s left-hand side
“I don’t care how old you are; we’re going to tear you to pieces!” Brandy screeched from New Palace Yard.
“Have to find me first, children,” he taunted. Titus made himself visible again—just for an instant—before running along the rooftops toward the other end of the building. He made sure they saw.
“He’s getting away!” screamed Brandy.
Titus tore over the House of Commons chamber, over the House of Lords. Predictably, Brandy sped down St. Margaret Street after him. But he was still invisible when he reached the end of the roof and leaped into Black Rod’s Garden. He heard Brandy’s frustrated cries, watched her head twist between the garden, the street, the Thames. Carver had probably escaped from the enclosed courtyard by now. Hopefully for his sake, he had the sense to turn invisible before scaling the wall.
Titus lifted his eyes to the clock tower again. The lights had stopped flashing. Titus felt stones of dread tug at his stomach.
Did Abigail win, or did Sybil?
In the distance, he heard police sirens. Brandy swore. Through a row of trees on his right, Titus saw Carver appear by her side.
“Well?” he demanded.
“I can’t find him. That son of a bitch. We’ll get you eventually, old man,” she shouted at no one in particular. She grabbed Carver’s hand and ran off.
Still invisible, Titus exited the garden onto Abingdon Street. Mortals around him were already yelling and pointing at the clock tower. He couldn’t go back there now, even if he had gotten Carver and Brandy off his tail. Mortals from various agencies would soon be on the scene, bemoaning the fate of their precious landmark.
He closed his eyes and searched for Abigail with his mind. But after several minutes, the stones in his stomach grew heavier. His worst fears were confirmed.
He couldn’t find her.
***
Flying down from such a great height was a little nerve-racking, but less difficult than Abigail thought. The wind lifted her hair and coat as she leaped onto the rooftop. Her landing was uneven; she nearly lost her balance. Her heart jumped as she flung out her arms to steady herself. She looked around.
No sign of Titus. No sign of the other vampires either, which was good. But does that mean they killed him? She hadn’t seen any bodies. She took a few steps and peered over the side of the roof. Big mistake. Vertigo threatened to pull her over. The blood drained from her face. Abigail stood up and looked straight ahead. Where is everyone?
They obviously aren’t here, or they’re still invisible. Either way, I have to get off the roof. Silently wishing to stay invisible herself, Abigail floated over New Palace Yard and onto the sidewalk.
It was a madhouse. The Palace of Westminster was swarming with people. Abigail counted at least a dozen police cars and three ambulances. Several news station vans had already shown up.
Where would Titus be? He couldn’t have gone back to the clock tower. Frantically, Abigail ran in the opposite direction, toward Abingdon Road.
“Ouch!” Someone’s messenger bag whacked her in the arm. “Watch where you’re going!” she snapped at a confused young man. She was buffeted this way and that by people bumping into her.
Oh, Jesus. They can’t see me because I’m invisible, Abigail realized. But what if Carver and Brandy are still around? I can’t risk them spotting me. She kept to the side of the walkway farthest from the street, where the crowd was thinnest. She tried to concentrate, to sense Titus with her mind the way other supernaturals had sensed her. But there were so many people. Too many.
Where did all these cockamamy tourists come from? she fumed. It’s close to one in the morning. Go back to your hotels and sleep! But the whole city was waking up now from the sight and sound of the clock face being smashed. As she got closer to Black Rod’s Garden, Abigail could hear them peppering police with questions.
“What happened, Officer?”
“Is it another Blitz?”
“Oh my God, are we at war?”
“Stay back, the lot of you!” a police officer boomed. She held up her hands, motioning people to move away from the building. “Guards!” she bellowed to the uniforms spilling from inside, toward the fences. “GUARDS!”
“Secure the area,” the cop next to her was saying to another. “No one unauthorized gets in or out of there, at least not past the gate. Set up a perimeter. What are you waiting for?” The officer he was talking to ran off.
Titus. Titus! Abigail screamed his name in her mind. He
r thoughts churned as wildly as the maddened crowd. All these people, sounds, thoughts, feelings. Where could he be? Two policemen ran past Abigail and nearly mowed her down. Vampires or no vampires, I can’t stay invisible forever. Hopefully, Carver and Brandy have enough brains not to attack me in such a public place. Abigail squeezed her eyes shut, praying nobody would notice one more person appearing in all the melee. But no sooner had she thrown off the spell than a hand clapped over her mouth, and a strong arm pulled her backward.
***
“Let go of me, you son of a bitch.” Abigail fought wildly against Titus’s iron grip.
She’s alive. Thank gods she’s alive. The stone heaviness in Titus’s stomach lifted. He whirled her around so she could see his face, but not before she managed to knee him in the groin.
“Ahhh!” Titus cried out, more in surprise than in pain, and doubled over. “For gods’ sake, woman, it’s me! What the hell is wrong with you?”
Abigail’s eyes were a sea of terror and rage. He released her, and her face twisted in confusion. “Titus?”
“Who else would it be?” He straightened up.
“Some random street wacko, which is who I thought it was.” She sidestepped two police officers barreling down the sidewalk, toward the clock tower.
“Well, I wouldn’t have had to grab you if you’d just focused your thoughts.” All around them, tourists and locals alike were chattering excitedly. “For Fate’s sake, I almost couldn’t find you.”
“You don’t have to do everything psychically. You have eyes, don’t you?” she asked. Another police car flew past them, siren blaring.
“They don’t come with X-ray vision. I cannot see through scores of people.” He thrust his hand at the frantic mob around them.
“Guess it’s just as well I turned invisible,” said Abigail.
“Turned invisi—how on earth did you expect me to see you if . . .” His voice trailed off as he examined her with worried eyes. “What happened to your face?”
“Excuse me?” Abigail put one hand to her cheek, wincing when it touched bruises and scratches. “Oh. Must be from when Cunningham hit me with that damn mirror.” She raised one eyebrow. “You don’t look so good yourself.”
Titus’s fingers grazed his own face; he felt a mess of wet scratches. He shook his hand free of blood droplets, then glanced down and realized parts of his clothes were shredded. “From going through that ridiculous clock face, no doubt. Never mind. We’ll both heal soon enough.”
“Right . . . ah, about the clock face.” Abigail glanced at the tower. Several guards were already there, shouting and looking below for any signs of the culprit. “What happened? Jesus . . . I thought you were dead. I saw you and the other vampires fall out of the clock, and then you were gone. I mean literally—your bodies seemed to disappear!”
“Don’t be absurd.” Titus winced. Lights from the flashes of nearby Polaroid cameras were stinging his eyes. “A fall won’t kill a vampire. It did, however, knock two of them to the ground and out of our way. As far as disappearing is concerned, I used another invisibility spell, much like you. Otherwise, even in the wee hours of the morning, someone was sure to spot three figures falling off one of the highest points in the city.” He let out an exasperated sigh. “Really, must I explain everything to you?”
“Don’t you use that tone of voice with me, Titus Aurelius!” Abigail said sharply. “I’ve had about all the aggravation I can take for one night. I’m just surprised you had the presence of mind to go invisible in a moment like that.”
“Mortals cannot know we exist.” Titus pounded a fist into his palm. “Our lives depend on it. The masquerade must be protected at all costs. When you’ve lived as long as I have, it becomes second nature.”
Abigail held up her hands. “Okay, okay. Sorry. I should’ve known.” She bit her lip. “I guess when you disappeared, I sort of panicked.”
Titus adjusted his collar. “Well, I’m just glad you share my presence of mind regarding invisibility. The last thing we need is you broadcasting every witch’s existence to the world.”
“Speaking of broadcasting our existence,” Abigail glanced around nervously, “do you think anyone saw us just now?”
“I hate to tell you this, Abigail, but without invisibility, everyone can see us.”
Abigail gave him a look. “I mean the PIA. Cunningham. Arthur. Richard.”
Titus shook his head. “No. If they had, they would’ve followed us. Besides, I think Cunningham had the others well convinced they needed to run for their lives.” His eyes scanned the growing throng. “Sybil and her lot seem to have disappeared into the crowd as well.”
“What if they’re invisible?”
“Another witch and two vampires? No, I’d still sense them, unless their thoughts are as unfocused as yours. You should be able to sense them by now, too. Go on. And this time, concentrate.”
Abigail took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Hey, you’re right.” She opened them again. “The only magical people here are you and me.”
“Exactly,” Titus said. “Why would they remain here? All three are probably savvy enough to avoid a supernatural confrontation in public.”
“Phew,” said Abigail. “That’s exactly what I’d been hoping.”
“But tell me,” Titus continued, “what happened with Sybil? How are you still here?”
Abigail explained how she’d managed to fight Sybil with her own amulet and get away.
A magnet . . . why did I not think of that? Titus knew few witches to demonstrate so much power in such a short amount of time. Then again, few witches went courting trouble the way Abigail did.
Titus humphed. “Impressive, for a novice.”
“Well,” she said, “I’ll admit I couldn’t have done it without your visualization technique.”
“Visualization technique?” he repeated. “You make it sound like something practiced at a meditative retreat.”
“Hey, I was giving you a compliment!”
“I’d much prefer you didn’t pull stunts like you did with the mirror.” He pursed his lips. “I mean, really . . . that was your plan?”
Abigail put one hand on her hip. “Well, excuse me. I didn’t see you coming up with any brilliant ideas. I had to do something. It’s bad enough your little windup trick with the clock nearly got me killed.”
“Never mind that. Just what do you think would’ve happened when you took the mirror to the PIA?”
“Well, I figured Arthur and the rest wouldn’t be too happy to learn I was magic.” Abigail ran her fingers through her hair. “I just felt I had an obligation to let them know what Cunningham was up to. What kind of woman she is. If they didn’t know about her schemes, it meant they had a wolf in their midst, and a very dangerous one. Maybe, if I brought that to their attention—and I agreed to leave the PIA, they wouldn’t feel the need to take any more . . . drastic measures.”
Titus rubbed his chin. “That’s a big ‘if.’ You’d literally risk dying at peoples’ hands just to warn them—”
“That they could die at someone else’s? Someone like Cunningham? Yeah, I guess I would. They’re still human beings, Titus.” Abigail stroked a section of her curls. “They at least deserve that much.”
“Human beings deserve no such thing.” Titus glanced at Abigail. “Most of them.” He coughed. “But why use a mirror at all? Why not use one of those tape-recorder things mortals have become so fond of?”
“Are you kidding?” Abigail asked. “With all those clicking buttons? If vampires were involved—besides you—there’s no way they wouldn’t hear those noises.”
“What if Cunningham or Sybil had sensed the mystical energy in the mirror?” Titus pressed. “Or Arthur and Richard, for that matter? That could have given us away as easily as a few tape-recorder clicks.”
“Richard has baby senses at this point, and Arthur none at all. You heard him: he was actually apologizing to Cunningham for not
realizing I was turning into a witch. As for Cunningham and Sybil, they might realize there was magic in the room, but that could be attributed to the presence of several supernatural creatures.” She gave Titus another look.
Damn. She has a point. Several, in fact. As much as he wanted to berate Abigail for brainlessness, her plan was actually well thought-out, and clever.
“Where did you even get a magic mirror, anyway?” Titus put one hand to his ear. A policewoman was shouting through a bullhorn not three feet from him. He considered throttling her.
“I made it,” Abigail said proudly, ignoring the blast of sound. “There really are spells in those old books at the PIA. Of course, none of the members are able to use them, since they don’t have magical powers. They just keep them for reference, as part of the witches’ history. But a few chants here, a little moonlight there, some mugwort . . .” Abigail shrugged. “It really wasn’t that hard. I just wish it had worked.”
“It almost worked,” Titus admitted.
“Yeah, well,” Abigail’s face darkened, “almost isn’t good enough.”
“Don’t blame yourself,” Titus said. “Truth spells are very tricky to perform correctly. The fact that you got as far as you did really says something.”
Ordinarily, Titus didn’t issue many compliments; the ones he’d just uttered had been positively profuse for him. But he didn’t know what to say or think anymore. The situation was growing more confounding by the minute.
Clearly, Cunningham isn’t using Abigail as a pawn against me. Or, if she was, she certainly isn’t doing it anymore. Now, for whatever reason, she seems hell-bent on getting Abigail out of the way. She really did appear concerned about this secret shipment of hers. In fact, she was more interested in the shipment than in an ancient vampire like himself. Titus didn’t know whether to be relieved or insulted.
If he didn’t need Abigail to help uncover a PIA plot against him, it was one less reason to keep her alive. He could always leave London—and Abigail—behind. No, that won’t work either. Titus swore in his mind. He couldn’t run away. First, it wasn’t in his nature. Second, and more importantly, at least one witch and two vampires might be on his trail.