by K. A. Tucker
Caden suddenly and unexpectedly appeared inches away from me with speed to rival Viggo, his powerful hands tightly gripping my biceps. “Where is she? I need to see her,” he whispered, desperation in his voice. His thumbs dug painfully into my flesh.
I had to tilt my head to meet his eyes. God, he’s strong. How am I going to do this without him knowing? He certainly was a darling, I had to admit as my eyes roamed his features, delicate and masculine at the same time. I could see why Evangeline had fallen head over heels for him. “Why would I tell you?” I began, mentally plucking several helixes and readying them, wondering if I could carry on a conversation while dissecting him. Doubtful, but I’d have to try.
“I need to see her,” Caden forced through clenched teeth.
“You used her and then tried to kill her,” I spat.
Raw pain flashed in his eyes. He cocked his head to the left, toward the door. Checking for eavesdroppers. When he looked back at me, it was with grim determination. “Why don’t you find out for yourself? I know you can do those kinds of things, witch,” he grated, his own suggestion clearly an unpleasant one.
Did I hear right? Is he . . . volunteering to be explored? I felt my mouth twist with doubt. No . . . he couldn’t be. What vampire in his right mind would—
“Do it now!” he urged, his voice breaking, despair shining in his jade eyes. “Quick! Before they find us!”
I didn’t need any more prompts. With reckless abandon, I drove magical tendrils into his body, infiltrating his thoughts, his emotions, his pain, everything about him. I navigated through his past, through his human life, downloading his every hope, his every fear, his every desire as if they were all part of a computer program, the visions flashing in my mental eye, the emotions swarming my heart.
I felt my eyes widen as Evangeline’s angelic face appeared, as I rifled through his memories of her, from the unconscious, frail creature lying on the cave floor to the moment her pendant locked within the statue’s grasp in Ratheus. And then the atrium . . . Evangeline stood smiling at me. No, at Caden. Her smile faltered as Caden’s overwhelming desire to kill her took control, as he lunged. The images ended with a mix of unruly desire and raw pain. Caden’s.
He’d lied to Viggo. He truly loved her.
I gasped as my magic released him. “She’s safe,” I whispered breathlessly, relief flooding my soul as my hands flew to his cheeks, suddenly the cheeks of an angel in my eyes. He may want to kill her, but he wouldn’t break her heart—perverse but comforting. “You need to get out of here now, before they find us together,” I whispered in a rush. Now that I knew his love for Evangeline was pure, I was that much more desperate to protect him. I couldn’t give Viggo a reason to try to kill him. “I left Rachel in the atrium with a body, but who knows how long that will keep her occupied. And God only knows where Mage is.” At least I knew Viggo and Mortimer wouldn’t be lurking. They had been all but glued to the atrium, to be near Veronique, their erratic paranoia that she was in danger growing tenfold.
Caden ignored my warning, scooping my hands from his cheeks to clasp them between his instead. “Does she hate me?” he whispered.
I chuckled, shaking my head. “Quite the opposite. The silly, sweet girl is busy worrying about everyone else, as usual.”
Recognition sparked in his eyes. “How do you know? Does she have a phone? Can I talk to her?”
I shook my head. “Leo. I can communicate with him.” Where only minutes ago I was ready to string Caden up and torture him mercilessly, now I was freely sharing my most protected details. Details that Viggo and Mortimer didn’t and needn’t know. “I didn’t have a chance to set up phone towers where she is. And it’s safer this way. Viggo’s likely tapped into the phone companies.”
“Where is—”
I cut him off. “No,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s better for everyone if I keep that to myself.”
Caden nodded in assent, pausing only for a second. “When can we see her? I need to explain. I need to apologize.”
“When you’re ready . . . when I’m ready.”
“Can’t you do something? Isn’t there some way to protect her?” Caden pleaded, tearing at my heart.
“Keeping her hidden is the best protection right now. You’d better go. Now!”
But it was too late. A familiarly serene voice interrupted us. “Has your magic given you what you needed?”
We were so engrossed with each other that neither of us had sensed Mage’s approach. Now I slowly turned to face her, instantly arming myself with helixes, unsure of how she would react to my direct violation of the truce, of her specific requirement. To my surprise, the ancient vampire’s coal-black eyes appeared . . . satisfied.
“It was necessary,” I answered cautiously.
“Good.” She turned to Caden, a small smile touching her lips. “I suggest you depart now and keep your distance from Sofie. The truth—however obvious it is to you and I—should be kept muddied for everyone’s sake.”
My eyes darted to Caden to see the same shocked expression on his face that had to be sitting on mine. Was the supposedly evil, sadistic Council leader . . . helping us?
“And you’d best wipe that affectionate grin off your face when you look at him and his friends,” Mage continued, her words directed to me. “That’s why I didn’t allow you to do that thing with your magic earlier. One flash of that, and Viggo would see the truth. He needs to remain in doubt.” She waved a hand dismissively at Caden. “Run along, now. And don’t forget, you have a debt to repay, given you were going to leave me behind.”
Caden hesitated with that last comment, bowing his head guiltily. Then he turned to whisper, “Tell her nothing makes sense without her.”
I nodded once, squeezing his hand.
And then he vanished, leaving me alone with the ancient, magic-sensing vampire.
Mage’s dark eyes settled on me. “I understand that he is important to Evangeline and I am in her debt. I will not allow any harm to come to them. Ever.”
Her left eyebrow arched when a snort escaped me. “You don’t believe me?”
“No. I’m sorry, I don’t. For the life of me, I can’t understand why . . . ”
Mage’s red lips curled back in disdain. “I don’t know when our kind became such treacherous, conniving fools. I remember a distinct shift within the last five thousand years.”
It took every ounce of energy to keep my face from displaying my shock. She’s five thousand years old—at least! No vampire had lived that long on Earth, as far as I knew. Of course, I didn’t know much. Viggo was tight-lipped about our world’s vampire history. I only knew that he wasn’t the first vampire to exist, but now he was the oldest. My gut told me he played some role in that first vampire’s demise, especially since the handful of others left roaming the world threatened to kill me for my association with him. He hadn’t made a lot of friends.
“So this is Evangeline’s room?” Mage asked, her eyes roaming the décor as she moved farther into the room.
I said nothing, studying her intensely, wracking my brain for a possible motive to her interest in helping Evangeline. The fact that I couldn’t guess one had me on edge—more so than if I could definitively say Mage was evil. If only I could magically dissect her as I had Caden . . .
She stopped in front of the fireplace to study the painting—the one I had moved from Evangeline’s previous room to here. It was the one I had painted of her as a little girl, picking daisies at the playground. “This is Evangeline.”
“Yes.”
“Charming.” She stood in silence for a moment before speaking again. “You love her as if she were your child. I envy you for that.” Those black eyes fell on me again, so peaceful, so reserved, so . . . unreadable. “I came here to tell you that the cellar is bone dry.”
I felt my eyes bug, the sudden change of subject jarring, the news shocking. “There was enough to last weeks, at least!”
She shrugged. “What can I say. Obviously
not. The incident in the atrium earlier should attest to that. Surprise guest?”
I cringed at the reminder of the gardener. “Yes, a complete surprise,” I answered, adding, “I’m not a fan of surprises.”
“It will be a long time before you can trust any of them around humans,” she continued, her tone tinged with rebuke.
“I’m well aware of that,” I snapped, her condescension sparking rage. “This wasn’t exactly planned.”
If my tone bothered her, she didn’t let on. “No. Of course not. Can you change the security code so no one else can get in?”
“I, uh . . . ” I faltered, her suggestion flooring me. Why hadn’t I thought of that? It was brilliant and simple! And something I would normally think of in half a human heartbeat if I wasn’t so preoccupied. Yet, here Mage was, offering sage advice to help me.
That was it. I’d had enough. Time to see what you’re made of, Mage. I turned to regard my concerned advisor, loosening my upper body, ready to spring. “Let’s not dance anymore, shall we?” I began, my voice deliberately calm. “I prefer my dance partners taller and more . . . masculine.”
Mage’s long black tresses swayed as her head tilted back, a musical laugh escaping her lips. “Whatever do you mean?”
She finds this amusing. Great. I had a female version of Viggo on my hands. I sighed heavily. “What game are you playing, Mage? You would appear to be concerned about Evangeline and Caden’s well-being, you’re offering advice to avoid the chance of humans being killed. I don’t have time for this. I play enough games with Viggo. So what is it that you want?”
The amusement vanished from her eyes, replaced by a hazy stare, as if she was no longer looking at me but into her own distant memories. “Does it not bother you that my world and your world are so similar?”
I paused to register her words, her sudden change of topic sending me reeling. “Yes,” I answered truthfully. “It has bothered me greatly since the minute Evangeline began describing it.”
“Because you wonder if your world is fated to the same demise as Ratheus.” Mage picked up a small figurine from the fireplace mantel. I watched quietly as she rolled it back and forth between her fingertips. “I worry about the same. The planets are identical, you see. There is only the venom issue.”
Something in her tone, something in her words, stirred a gut feeling that a deep, dark secret lingered on her tongue, one that existed now as it had before, in the atrium.
“From what I—” Mage’s eyes flicked to the door and she sighed. “Prying ears, as usual.” I frowned, not sensing anything. Normally my senses for such things were keener than even Viggo’s, due to my sorceress abilities. “You can create sound barriers with your magic, can you not?”
“While keeping the truce?” I smirked.
She smiled in return. “There are exceptions to every rule.”
She was giving me permission to use my magic. Fury sparked, but intrigue quickly doused it. She wanted to tell me something that the others could not hear.
With a few carefully chosen words, I conjured a purple-hued bubble around me. Mage’s eyes followed it as it expanded to touch the walls of Evangeline’s room. So she can see magic as well!
Satisfied that the room was protected from listeners, Mage began again. “Now, where were we . . . yes, the venom issue. From what I gathered from Rachel, it was your fault?”
A derisive snort escaped me but I followed it with a nod. It was one hundred percent my fault. I had toyed with the Fates in my attempt to join Nathan in eternity. I was the one who had fried everyone’s venom. I was the one who had killed my love. Never had I tried to shirk blame.
She smirked. “Well, you single-handedly changed the fate of your world. But by how much? Really, who can say. Was it enough?”
Enough for what? I wondered.
“We had no issues with our venom. So that’s one difference between the two worlds. And from what I gather, Ratheus is running on a different clock, as well; it’s approximately seven hundred years ahead, based on the technology I’ve seen here,” Mage waggled a finger at the digital clock and the built-in stereo system beside the fireplace, “and what I recall of our world before the war.”
“Seven hundred years,” I repeated, my stomach plummeting, the significance of the number unmistakable. “Didn’t the war on Ratheus begin seven hundred years ago?”
“Yes, that’s right. Around the same year as the one Earth is in now.” Mage began pacing, her arms crossed over her chest. “So really, other than the time difference and your venom issue, the worlds are identical.”
“Well, still. The worlds are not the same. There are the geographical names,” I reminded her. “That’s a big difference. Ratheus instead of Earth. And this New Shore; we never had a city named that.”
Mage pursed her lips, then relaxed them to heave a loud sigh. “Have you ever heard of a seer?”
Changing topics again . . . where is this going? Aloud, I answered, “Cousin to the witch. Yes, I’ve heard of them, though I can’t say I’ve ever met one.”
“They’re incredibly rare,” Mage confirmed. “I had one at my disposal for a short while. A servant seer.” Mage opened the door to Evangeline’s closet, scanned the racks upon racks of brand new designer clothes, and arched her eyebrows. Finally she closed the door and turned back to me. “When the human world ended, she prophesized that someone of a parallel world in a parallel universe would come to us. She couldn’t tell me why or when, but she felt the strong urge to hide the identity of our world.”
“But . . . no.” I frowned. “You’re from Ratheus! That’s not parallel!”
Mage paused for only a second. “Have you ever looked at the letters in the name ‘Ratheus’?”
No. I closed my eyes. R-A-T-H-E-U-S. “Oh God . . . ” I murmured.
Mage had lifted a figurine from the mantel and studied it as she continued, her tone conversational. “I played around with the words ‘our Earth,’ but couldn’t find a name I liked with those letters. So I eventually came up with ‘Ratheus,’ using ‘Earth’ and ‘us’ as a base. And ‘New Shore’ was so named because it was the shore we landed on in our new world.” Placing the figurine back on the mantel, she smiled sadly at me. “Ratheus is Earth, Sofie. Our worlds are parallel . . . as the fates of each may be.”
Mage may as well have punched me in the stomach. The Fates had left the part about the planet being parallel out of their details. Deep down, I had toyed with the idea, wondering if it were possible. Then, when Evangeline told me it was called Ratheus, I’d relaxed, assuming they were only eerily similar. Mage had just crushed that with her admission. But something still didn’t add up. “How is this possible?”
“What, parallel planets?” Mage shrugged, holding her hand up dismissively. “How do vampires exist? How do witches and magic exist? I learned long ago that there’s no logical thought to all of this. You can’t rationalize that which defies all logic. Don’t even attempt it. You’ll only leave with more questions.”
“Do all the . . . Ratheus vampires know this? Does Caden know?” I frowned as I wracked my memory of what I had seen with my invasive spell.
Mage denied it with a small shake of her head. “My seer was adamant that it be hidden from everyone. It makes sense—had Evangeline known the real risk, would she still have agreed to it? Would you?” She paused. “So I had every single one of them compelled. I wiped it clean from their memory. All they know is Ratheus.”
I felt my eyes bulge. Vampires compelled? And so powerfully? Impossible! Only humans could be compelled. “How . . . ” I sputtered but Mage was already walking toward the door, straight for the sound barrier. Walking through that would break the bubble and end our conversation when I needed so much more info.
“It doesn’t matter. I suggest you not mention any of this to the others yet.”
“Mage, please!” One burning question needed to be asked. “What started the war?”
She stopped just before she reached the magica
l barrier and turned. “Well, for one thing, a group of fanatical humans who made it their mission to kill vampires and witches.” The Sentinel. Further proof of our worlds’ similarities. Nausea again churned my stomach. “They hid underground for years, until we were sure time and common sense had eradicated them. We became complacent, and they suddenly appeared, allied with the witches and stronger than ever, with their sole goal, outing us.”
I frowned doubtfully. The Sentinel despised the witches as much as they did vampires. So many of my previous kind had been burned at the stake by the zealous Sentinel that an alliance seemed impossible. Sure, Ursula had used several Sentinel members in her plot, but that was the work of an insane woman offering her wiles in exchange for brute force, I was sure of it. “And then what?” I pressed. “The Sentinel and the witches attacked and started the war? Just like that?”
Mage hesitated. “Yes, they attacked. It may have been kept under wraps, had it not been for one imprudent vampire who executed an entire faction of them in front of a television camera.”
“That would do it,” I answered dryly, then muttered, “I hope you punished the idiot severely.”
As Mage reached out to turn the doorknob, effectively breaking the sound barrier, a sad smile touched her lips. “I’ve punished myself every day since.”
“We need reserves!” Viggo exclaimed in exasperation the second I stepped into the atrium, still dazed by the devastating knowledge Mage had imparted to me—entrusted only to me. Until I could evaluate the risks of the others knowing, I would keep it to myself.
Viggo and Mortimer sat at their bistro table, guarding Veronique, as usual, oblivious to the real danger threatening us. The Ratheus vampires—if I could even still call them that—were milling about, now that they’d drained their supply of human blood. Their eyes darted furtively around the atrium and the balconies, as if searching for a human hiding amongst the charred leaves. My eyes rolled over Caden and the others, off in one corner, and rolled on as I intentionally avoided eye contact. Mage had been smart to stop me from reading Caden, that first day. Viggo would have spotted the truth, had it flashed in my eyes for even the briefest of seconds.