by K. A. Tucker
“Yes, it will be as good as new with that,” I added, placing my hand over the pack and quickly weaving a few threads of magic into her wrist to close up the wound and speed up the healing. We didn’t need her bleeding out in the cockpit.
“Oh, okay. Thanks,” Jasmine murmured, slowly walking back toward the cockpit, glancing over her shoulder at all of us several times.
Not until I heard the door lock click did I smile. “And now we know,” I said. Caden returned a grin of his own, his relief unmistakable. Relief that matched my own. I could trust Caden with Evangeline.
Satisfied, I strolled past him to take a seat in a vacant corner, grabbing a blood bag on my way. I needed time to strategize. How would I get Evangeline out of there? And where in this world could we go to hide from Viggo and Mortimer?
Unfortunately I didn’t get much strategizing time, as Mage slid into the chair across from me. “Well, that must make you happy. One less threat to Evangeline?” she asked almost tentatively, as if testing the waters. Likely wanting to see how I would react to her, now that we were not busy hunting mutants or fighting off witches. Now that I knew what she was, the powers she held, the danger she presented. Frankly, I wasn’t sure what to make of Mage anymore. For someone I openly claimed not to trust, there was a large part of me that felt betrayed when she revealed her secret, as if she should have told me sooner. It was stupid, really . . . and yet it was impossible to ignore. I searched her face for an inkling of what she was thinking. Nothing. Unreadable. “Yes. One less danger.”
“So what are we going to do now?”
“We?” Such a small, unassuming word, and yet it weighed so heavily, coming from her. It implied we were a team.
“Yes, I thought . . . ” Mage stumbled over her words, an odd thing to witness the five thousand-year-old vampire doing. And then it happened. As she looked down at her hands folded in her lap, I saw the mask drop. It was fleeting, but I saw underneath—saw grief; loss. It was a long moment before she looked up again. “There’s nothing I can say to make you trust me, is there?”
I felt my jaw set. “No. I don’t believe there is.”
She nodded, and determination flashed in her eyes. “Fine. Read me.”
“What?” I blurted.
“Read me,” she repeated.
But I was already shaking my head, feeling my forehead furrow deeply. “I heard you, but . . . what?”
Mage heaved a loud sigh. “Back on Ratheus, when I first found out about you—about a witch who was also a vampire—I had to admit that I was intrigued. And impressed. Then, when I met you . . . when I got to know you, I realized how alike the two of us are.”
“We are nothing alike!” I snapped.
“No?” The tiniest smile crooked her mouth. “Powerful women, witch heritage . . . Of course, I’m not a witch anymore, but I still remember those days. We both want to save this world. And neither of us enjoy killing innocent people.” The smile slid of her face. “We’ve both suffered terrible loss. We’re both lonely.”
“I’m not . . . ” My words drifted away, unable to form that one lie.
“Really? And where is your family? Your friends?”
I paused, the mention of friends reminding me of Leo. Pain ripped through me as I thought of my old companion for the first time since the witch attack, of the delivery of his message, of how the connection cut off so abruptly, so completely. There was only one way that could happen. Death.
“I have no one,” Mage offered when I didn’t speak. “Not one friend. Except you.”
I opened my mouth to deny her claim to this supposed “friendship,” but she was already talking again. “I should have told you. I should have trusted you.” She looked down at her hands. “I’m sorry.”
“Well . . . like you said. There are no words left to make me trust you.”
“I did say that.” That steady, confident “Mage voice” was back again. “So read me. You will know everything about me in thirty seconds.” She crooked her head, smiling. “Maybe a minute. Five thousand years is a lot of memory to rifle through. You will see that my intentions are genuine. You will see that I don’t have some grand scheme. I am here to help you protect Evangeline and this world.”
I wanted so much to believe her, I realized as I gazed at that tiny, pale, Asian face. At my . . . friend. I never would, though. Not until I uncovered what she could not hide.
Without another moment’s hesitation, before she could renege on her offer, I sank a dozen magical tendrils into her body. They sailed in as if invited through a wide-open door, snaking into Mage’s memories and thoughts as they had done with Caden. Only here, there was more—so much more. The moment five thousand years ago, when she realized what that Fates had turned her into; her first human kill and her horror as she gazed down on her victim. Regret tainted her every thought. Regret for testing the Fates with such a superficial request. Regret as her own family of sorcerers shunned her with disgusted sneers and ghastly screams.
I wove in and out of years, jumping from decade to decade, one century to the next; through the common stages of denial and then acceptance, of eccentricity and then a craving for normality; through the overwhelming boredom, the recurring urges to end her eternal life. So many years, besieged with melancholy and distrust as her strength grew to undefeatable heights. Cycling through one male companion to the next, with no desire to stay; guarding her back as those around her plotted to usurp her from her invisible throne. And then suddenly . . . a face. A woman’s face. Young, beautiful, vampire. Just like that, it was as if the sun rose over a horizon, and warmth blossomed within my heart. Yolanda. That was her name. A sister. A friend. Mage’s best friend.
From that point on, Mage’s memories took a turn toward a blissful place, the days filled with laughter and peace. Mage now had an ally, someone to watch her back, someone to trust wholeheartedly. There were no more thoughts of death. Not for six hundred years.
Until suddenly, that security was yanked out from under Mage, vanishing in a haze of darkness and fire delivered by witches and baited by the Sentinel. I watched as Mage stepped through carnage to find Yolanda’s dead eyes staring up from where she had fallen. Like a twig snapping in half, something broke in Mage then. I felt her tumbling backward, back into darkness, only it was so much bleaker this time.
In the next memory flash, I was peering out over a sea of heads in a football stadium. Cameras were everywhere, aimed to capture any angle. It was a really big game. Mage’s attention was on the football team in the green and white uniforms. She had previously traced two of them as Sentinel spies. In their football gear, she wasn’t sure which ones they were. She decided it didn’t matter. She’d just kill them all.
And that’s exactly what she did. On live national television, in front of millions of spectators, a vampire slaughtered an entire football team to avenge her best friend’s murder.
Filtering through the rest of Mage’s memories, I watched the war unfold through her eyes, the eyes of the catalyst who brought about the end of the world. Through the moment when she realized the grave impact of her rampage, however noble the intentions may have been; through her desperate attempts to stop the devastation; through to the migration to the South American continent that she would rename New Shore; through her order to exterminate three-quarters of the vampires because there were simply too many to keep the peace. The aftermath was a long, endless stretch of regret during which guilt ate away at her dark soul. So many times, Mage held flint and stone in her hand, ready to step into a blazing inferno. Only the seer’s words stayed her desire, burning into her mind as surely as if they were on fire. A parallel world. A second chance, perhaps. A chance to do right. If only she could get a second chance . . .
The last images that flashed through Mage’s mind were of Evangeline’s friends being dragged, bound by Merth; of Evangeline’s terrified face, and Mage’s urge to come forward and comfort her, knowing there was no point, that her reputation as an evil tyrant was all th
at had kept the masses from turning on her. And then my own face appeared in her memory, my red hair framing my face like a lion’s mane, my eyes set with crazed determination as I wielded fire balls, leveling dozens of Ratheus vampires. Mage had an opening. I saw it now. She had regained her senses quickly—unlike the others—and she could have killed me. She thought about it. But there was something about me that intrigued her. An instant kinship that stayed her lethal hands. She let me live.
By the time my magical threads released Mage, I was leaning so far forward in my chair that I was surprised I didn’t fall out. Dazed, I slid back, my eyes wide with shock as I stared openly at her, not because she was so horrific, not because the span of her lifetime was overwhelming, but because so many of her own memories and emotions reminded me of . . . my own. I swallowed several times before opening my mouth to speak, only nothing came out. I was utterly speechless. Drained of all suspicion in less than a minute.
Mage smiled sadly at me. “So you see, you and I are not all that different.”
With a small nod, I whispered, “I guess not,” and left it at that. There was nothing else to say. Just like that, seeing her for what she was, all of my apprehension vanished, all doubt of her intentions slid away. I now had a true ally in this war. I now had a real friend. It was . . . comforting.
I glanced over to see Caden, Amelie, and Bishop watching us intently, no doubt eavesdropping on the conversation. By the relieved looks on their faces, they’d figured out what had happened and they were pleased with the outcome. It meant Mage was genuinely on our side. Against Viggo, against the witches and the Sentinel, against all threats. We needed her.
Mage cleared her throat. “So after we get Evangeline, then what?”
Back to the plans. “I guess we could always go back to the cabin in the mountains, if it’s still there. Whatever happened between Leo and Ursula may have burnt the thing to the ground. I won’t know until I make a few phone calls.”
“And who is this Ursula?”
I rolled my eyes. “Long story. Psycho jealous witch. I’ll explain later.”
“Speaking of jealous psychos,” Amelie piped up. “What do you think happened to Rachel?”
Mage and I groaned in unison. “I hope the witches finish her off,” Mage muttered.
“Yeah.” Though doubtful. That would be too easy for all of us.
“Now, will we be taking this plane the entire way? You said it was an island?”
“No. We have another three or four hours, then we’ll need to stop over and get a smaller plane, but one big enough to carry seven of us, plus Max,” I answered.
“You mean six,” Bishop growled from his corner, thinking I had accidentally and cold-heartedly counted Fiona.
“No, Bishop,” I answered as gently as I could. “There will likely be seven. I don’t imagine Leo sent the entire staff with Evangeline, given the tribe would not handle that well. But I’m thinking he might have sent Julian.”
“Julian?” Caden asked.
“Camila’s son—the woman you all killed on the first night? I sent him with Evangeline to the mountains at her request.”
Caden’s eyes narrowed. “And what’s this son, like . . . ten? Twelve years old?”
Oh-oh. I know where this is going. I hadn’t thought of this. “In his early twenties.”
“No need to worry,” Mage added, chuckling.
“I’m not worried,” Caden quickly threw back. He stood and began pacing. “So she’s been in these mountains with this twenty-something-year-old guy for the past month. After I tried to kill her.”
“Caden . . . ” Amelie said, rolling her eyes. “She’s madly in love with you.”
Caden scowled at his sister and marched off into the opposite corner. He was worried. And now so was I. A jealous vampire was an irrational one. Which made for a lethal one.
10. Untangle
“You said Sofie is coming to get us out of here?” I asked Max, my hand holding the cloth door back as I appraised the sleeping village. The tribe was nocturnal, Max explained, and so all was quiet except for the occasional stirring of a tiger, guarding the huts. Now, though, with the sun passing below the tree line, they would rise.
Uh-huh.
“When?”
Dunno. Max had resorted to one-word answers where possible, likely to conserve his energy. He was starving and he wasn’t permitted to hunt. Sofie had warned him against hunting while on the island. The tribe considered all animals food for their precious tigers. They’d kill Max if he dared deprive the tigers of food.
We stayed in the hut all day, except to get water from the basin a few times—and I wouldn’t have done that, if not for the sweltering tropical heat. I dragged Max along with me each time, clinging to him like a terrified child, constantly reminding myself to breathe as the tigers’ eyes lingered on me, their noses twitching as they sniffed the air, their tails writhing excitedly. Max said they wouldn’t attack. I wasn’t so sure.
“I hope she comes soon. This place gives me the creeps.” I dropped the curtain and wrapped my arms tightly around my chest.
Max sighed heavily. She’ll come as soon as she can, but I don’t know when that will be.
“And you’re sure she knows we’re here?”
Oh, yes. Leo would have made sure of it.
A sharp pain, at the mention of my dear old friend.
She doesn’t want you near these things any longer than necessary. It could be days, or weeks—
“Weeks!” I felt my eyes bug out at the possibility. “No, it wouldn’t be weeks. Not if you aren’t allowed to hunt here!”
I can last a few weeks without food.
“You’ve already lasted a few weeks without hunting because you were too stubborn to go in the mountains!” I reminded him.
She could be on her way right now.
“Really?” Excitement nudged aside my worry for Max momentarily, as a bubble of hope grew. Sofie, on her way? What would I say to her? What would it be like around her, now that I knew the truth? But more importantly—“Will she come alone?”
Max didn’t give his answer any thought. Likely. I can’t see why she’d be traveling with any of them. Too risky. They’re likely still uncontrollable.
And just like that, Max burst my bubble. Of course Caden wouldn’t be coming with her. Only a month had passed. It felt like forever but in the grand scheme of things, a month was nothing. A blink of time.
I heard rustling behind me. Julian, shifting in his sleep. Since I had discovered his dirty little secret, I refused to speak to him. It wasn’t too hard, given he slept most of the day, only waking to call out for water. I had the spiteful urge to withhold it from him, to let him know how angry I was with him, but I knew that would prove fatal, in this tropical heat and in his condition. Plus Max would suspect a serious problem if I acted so cruelly. In the end, I made sure my nails dug into his neck a little as I lifted his head toward the water bowl.
Julian was terribly weak but Max thought he would survive, thanks to whatever the tribe had done to him. That was twice now that he should have died but was saved with magic. If Max found out about Julian’s secret identity, I doubted magic could save him a third time.
I dearly hope she brings something for me though, when she comes, Max grumbled, interrupting my thoughts on Julian. Something warm and bloody.
I turned to look at the werebeast who lay sprawled on the cool floor, his hungry eyes zoned in on the sleeping man. I knew what he was thinking. “Don’t you dare, Max,” I warned. Guilty eyes shifted over to me. “Go hunt! Before they wake up.”
I’m fine, he said half-heartedly.
“Look at you! You’re definitely not fine. We’re in a jungle. There’s got to be tons of warm, bloody things for you to eat!” I shuddered. “I’m sure the tigers can spare a few mice, or rats, or . . . whatever rodents there are out there.” I checked the darkening horizon. “Go now! You can be back before they wake up.”
Do you know how many rats I’d have
to catch?
I cringed. “I’d rather not.”
Besides, they’ll know.
“How?”
They just will. I can’t. I need to stay alive to protect you.
“I don’t see how good a big heap of fur lying on the ground will be to me,” I muttered.
A chorus of feline roars filled the air then, earning a small yelp of alarm from me. Julian stirred again, but his eyes remained closed; a thin layer of sweat shone on his forehead. Cautiously lifting a corner of the door flap, I peeked out again to see the tigers now on their feet, stretching lazily. Then, one by one, the tribe emerged.
One hell of an alarm clock, right?
“Uh-huh.” Ducking back to avoid being seen, I watched through the crack as they quietly went about their business: the women carrying baskets of various fruits, the men dragging wood toward the fire pit, all of them glancing frequently in my direction. One woman cradled a young boy of maybe two in her arms. As they passed, his glowing, jaundiced eyes grazed mine.
“Are they human?” I whispered.
They were until eighty years ago. Then the Fates transformed them into those things. They still live and die like humans, eat like humans, breed like humans. In the beginning, the tribe was half this size. They’ve multiplied over the years.
“So, they always looked like . . . this?”
The Fates did that to their eyes. The teeth are just bad genes. The piercings, they’ve done to themselves. Max snorted. I don’t imagine the inbreeding has helped much.
Within minutes, loud snaps and crackles announced another raging fire. Across the clearing, I spotted the tribal leader walking toward the pyre, his big feathered hat making him appear two feet taller. “They sure like their fire, don’t they,” I murmured.
They worship the god of fire.
I glanced back at him. “Seriously?”