“They heal almost immediately, too,” Ximena adds, “which means they can recover the energy they lose from casting almost in real time. So, yes. They say that, knowing their mortal weakness would always prevent them from succeeding at this ritual, the surviving witches found a vampire who would Turn them … and they joined the undead.”
“You’re working with a bunch of vampires?” Adriana clearly can’t believe what she’s hearing. “My whole life you’ve told me the undead can’t be trusted, and now—”
“You watch your tone, Adriana Verdugo,” the woman snaps, fast as a cobra, and my best friend’s mouth clicks shut. “Don’t speak to me like that.”
“Why are you working with them?” I demand, because Ximena isn’t my grandmother, and I don’t even know if I trust her now. “Whose side are they on?”
It should be an easy question to answer, but the woman gets a pensive look, her mouth shifting. “To be honest, I’m not sure.”
“You’re not sure?” Adriana squeals, and her grandmother glares at her again.
“I don’t need you to lecture me, young lady. I’ve only trained with them because they’ve made me stronger in my craft than I ever dreamed possible. But I’ve always questioned their motivations and tried to anticipate their end game. I meant what I said the other night, when I reminded you that vampires never tell the whole truth.” She sighs. “They didn’t reveal to us until last month that this was to be the year of the Ascension, and it was only a few weeks ago that I learned Auggie was the intended vessel.”
“Whose side do they say they’re on?” I try again, growing exasperated. My parents are missing, I’m pressure-cooking Satan’s office buddy, and she needs prompts?
“According to them, they’ve sacrificed everything to save mankind from the Corrupter. They’ve spent millennia tracking him from one Rising to the next, hoping to confront him again and cast him into hell once and for all.” Her wedding ring clinks against her coffee mug. “Only three of them remain now, and they’ve been grooming me and two others for years to replace their fallen sisters.”
Immediately, my mind flashes on the sketches I did in the art room, and the trio of mysterious, black-clad women that figured into both. “If that’s really their plan, then why haven’t they done it yet? If this thing comes back every hundred years, they’ve had shitloads of opportunity!”
“A ritual of this magnitude can’t be worked on a whim.” She sets her mug aside, crossing her legs. “It requires a confluence of factors that can’t be forced, and a balanced circle with experienced magic-workers … They say the circumstances necessary to pull it off didn’t come together until just now. And all of that is true enough, as far as I can tell.”
“You keep saying stuff like that—‘according to them,’ and ‘as far as you can tell.’” I tuck my hands under my thighs so the sofa can absorb the sweat from my palms.
“I’m not sure they’re being honest with me.” Ximena gives her granddaughter a meaningful look. “They’re very secretive, and provide information only when they deem it necessary, and … I’ve come to realize that they’re not above telling me what I want to hear in order to gain my cooperation.” Finally, she gets to her feet again, pacing back to the window and then spinning around. “The fact of the matter is that, even if what they’ve told me is true—even if they once lost control of a spell meant to banish Azazel and sacrificed their humanity so they could prepare for a rematch—it means they’ve been undead for thousands and thousands of years.”
“That’s a long time,” I mumble, my dry mouth making gross, sticky noises.
“Much longer than they were ever human, of course.” She smiles with her lips pressed tightly together. “Long enough to have changed their minds about finishing what they claimed they started. It bothers me that they won’t explain the details of the ritual when we’re running out of time to perform it. It bothers me that they won’t say why they won’t explain the details.”
“Abuela, there’s no way you can keep training with them!” Adriana practically screeches. “What if they’re dangerous?”
“Don’t worry about me, mijita.” Every inch of Ximena exudes a confidence I wish I’d ever felt. “Believe me when I say I can protect myself—even from these women. Right now I’m worried about Auggie.” Both of them turn to look at me, and I feel the color drain out of my face. “Because there are no written accounts that exist, I only have the witches’ word that they were human when they dealt with Azazel the first time. For all I know, the ritual they botched—the one they want me to assist them with now—wasn’t meant to stop him. They might have been trying to help him Ascend.”
23
In the movies, this would be the big moment where the hero decides to take matters into his own hands. Some cockamamie plan would come together, he’d find an unexpected ally, and together they’d snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. But I’ve got no plan, and no allies I haven’t tried. All the information I have about the Corrupter comes from people with reasons not to tell the whole truth, and there’s nowhere I can think of to look for more allies.
All I can do is try to choose some smart strategies, even if it feels like giving up. Even if it means accepting that the best-case scenario is one in which I never live to see if my plan even works out. I have no way of contacting the person I need to see, but instinct tells me to check the mall, where I learned of the Corrupter for the very first time. I can wait as long as it takes; it’s not like I’ll get in trouble with my parents.
Ximena offers to let me stay with her, but I ask her to drive me home. Maybe she’s trustworthy … but maybe she’s not, and I can’t afford the luxury of making a mistake about it. The second she drops me off, I pull out my bike and start across town, the sky a shield of low-hanging clouds that makes the sun feel farther away than ever. A week and a half ago, I was fantasizing about a future at SAIC—a dream stoked by a man who was already plotting my death when he suggested I apply for their program.
Obviously, Mr. Strauss recognized the meaning behind my sketches—knew what was happening to me, saw my art as proof. What scares me is the possibility that there are more humans out there who want me dead, while I’m fresh out of humans who want to protect me. Vampires might watch over me by night, but who’s left to keep me safe now?
When I reach the mall, I’m not sure I’m even surprised to find Jude already waiting for me. Sitting alone at the same table as before, he turns a coffee cup around in his long, slim fingers, and that familiar prickle trails up the back of my neck as I approach. When he looks at me, it’s with an expression that suggests he’s heard terrible news. “I was wondering if you would turn up here.”
“The burner phone died and I didn’t remember your number,” I reply awkwardly, still numb as I take a seat. “The only places I could think to look for you were here or the school parking lot, and I don’t know if it’s cloudy enough for you to be outside. I don’t know how that works.”
A smile flits across his face. “It’s cloudy enough for me to get around, if I take certain precautions. But I don’t generally like to risk it. Frankly, I ought to be asleep anyway.”
This is actually a point I’ve always been curious about, and I might as well ask. “What happens if vampires don’t sleep?”
His smile stretches until it’s almost genuine. “They get tired.”
I look at his hands, remembering the way those fingers felt on the bare skin of my waist. “I could have checked out the last place we saw each other, too, but I sort of figured that wasn’t the best idea.”
Jude actually flinches. “Listen, August, I’m sorry.”
When he doesn’t add anything more, I almost laugh. My friend is dead, my parents are missing, my surrogate grandmother might have accidentally joined a Corrupter cult, and my time is running out. “You’re gonna have to be way more specific.”
“I’m sorry that I kissed you,” he answers, and he seems so sincere that I’m at a loss for words. “Given the circu
mstances, it was inappropriate. I know humans think all vampires are louche, amoral sociopaths who only care about satisfying our various needs, but that’s not the case. At least, it’s not for me. I should have shown better sense.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” I finally manage. “I was…” My throat catches, the truth hidden by a scab that doesn’t want to come off. “This thing, the Corrupter … it’s getting closer to the surface—I can feel it now. And last night, when I had some of Gunnar’s blood, I…” Focusing on the tabletop so he can’t see the embarrassment in my eyes, I blurt, “I don’t know how I did what I did, but I just wanted to feel happy. I wanted everyone to be happy, and I … made you feel that way. You wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t been messing with your brain. I’m the one who’s sorry.”
“It’s very noble of you to apologize,” Jude says, tilting his head, “but you didn’t make me feel anything. The Corrupter isn’t known to plant thoughts in people’s heads; he merely … calls forth what’s already there. And even with you tugging at my desire to kiss you, as a vampire, I do have the ability to resist compulsion.”
This is something I didn’t know before, and I wonder if it has something to do with the fact that this thing inside me is the source of his talent for mesmerism—for plucking at people’s memories and emotions, and guiding their will. But I don’t know how many of the undead are even aware of their true origins. The Syndicate has officially written Azazel off as a myth, and if Ximena’s witches are even remotely on the level, they are quite possibly the only beings on the planet old enough to know the truth.
Setting the coffee cup aside, Jude clears his throat. “I could have resisted, but I didn’t want to.”
I think back to the bright waves of golden bliss I drew from the crowd last night, the honesty of the emotions that poured through me. Jude did want to kiss me—almost as much as he wanted to kiss Gunnar—and I helped him forget his reasons not to. “Okay, well, I’m not sure what we’re supposed to say here. I forgive you for kissing me if you forgive me for turning into a magical brain monster that made everybody horny. I was a mess—I’m always a mess—but that’s not why I came looking for you.”
“I see.” He scratches at the tabletop. “If this is about what else happened at the party last night, rest assured that—”
“I want to take a blood oath to the Syndicate.” I force the words out before I can swallow them forever, before I can think twice. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at me with shocked eyes, until I add, “I mean, before the Ascension can happen.”
“I know what you mean,” Jude says softly, “but do you?”
“If I do this, it means I’m committed, right? Magically?” I try to remember what Daphne told me when I described my vision of Gunnar and the bowl of blood. “I make a promise that I can’t break, even if … I die?”
“It means your body is bound to your word, so long as the same blood is in your veins,” he answers, his brows knitting together with … concern? Suspicion? “It could potentially mean that you’d be indenturing the Corrupter to the Syndicate’s whims. Forever.”
“But the Syndicate doesn’t want true immortality.” I pick at my sleeves, my fingers shaking. “You told me all that stuff about severed heads and body parts living forever … and your whole thing is maintaining a balance between mortals and the undead, right? Punishing vampires who step out of line, and all that stuff?”
“I…” He struggles for a moment, rotating his coffee cup a little faster. “That’s the mission statement at the moment, yes.”
“All I want is for my parents to be safe,” I whisper, my voice lumpier than oatmeal. “If there’s no way to stop this thing, then I want to make sure it can’t hurt anyone I care about. Rasputin killed Daphne last night, and he kidnapped my parents. If you can promise that the Syndicate will save them and protect them, then I’ll take the oath.” Tears heat my eyes and spill over. “I mean, let’s be honest, you know? I’m not getting a happy ending. The best way this goes for me is I don’t feel it when the end comes. But people I love will be left behind and I don’t want them to suffer, either.”
“August…” Jude looks away, and he pops the knuckles of his left hand. “Something you should understand is that no one actually knows what will happen to your body during the Ascension. You might keep your blood … and you might not. Even when humans are Turned, their bone marrow remains the same, and when reactivated, it continues producing enough red cells to keep them bound to the oaths they swore in life.” Cocking his head, he adds, “But we don’t know what’s being introduced to your body, or what a change will look like. You might be transmuted into something else entirely.”
“Oh, okay.” I lick my lips, and my tongue is so dry I almost taste the sparks. “Thanks for making it sound so pants-shittingly cool.”
“I’m sorry. What I’m trying to say is that a blood oath might not even work.” His eyes are on his hands. “And you might not want it to.”
“Um … what?”
“The only reason the Syndicate has ever cared about striking a balance is because, historically, we’ve risked annihilation every time we’ve grabbed for power. Vampires might be faster and stronger than humans, but we are drastically outnumbered, and our vulnerabilities—chiefly to fire and sunlight—make it hard for us to centralize our power.” Hunching his shoulders, Jude scratches the tabletop more vigorously. “The reason the Syndicate is headquartered in the Carpathians isn’t some silly homage to Vlad Dracula; it’s strategy. The castle was built at a time when isolation, inaccessibility, and clear vantage points meant the difference between surviving through daylight hours and waking up engulfed in flames while delighted villagers watched us burn.
“In the age of satellite technology, we’re more discoverable than ever. Targeted missiles, long-range bombs, aircraft … Militaries around the globe already have protocols in place for wiping us out when the opportunity presents itself.” He lays his hands flat and leans closer. “Today, the only difference between life and death for the Syndicate is our reputation for stringently policing our own kind, enforcing regulations, and keeping humans as safe as possible.”
It sounds an awful lot like a warning. “All the more reason for you to be in control of the Corrupter, right?”
“You don’t understand.” He speaks quietly, but with an edge sharp enough to cut my fingers on. “The kind of power the Corrupter promises … If the Syndics had that to share among their lineages, there would be no reason to maintain balance—no need to fear death at the hands of men, and no need to perform our cooperative submission.”
Ice spreads through me. “So it was all a lie? All that stuff about the Syndicate not believing in the Corrupter and true immortality being a curse—”
“It wasn’t a lie,” he interrupts. “Myths of the Corrupter have been around forever, and there’s way more fiction than fact out there. Besides that, the oldest Syndics have been alive since pre-Christian times, and they’ve never encountered the so-called Endless One.” Jude shrugs, but it’s a weak gesture. “Many of them don’t want true immortality, but if this is really happening … it’s a game-changer, August. Consensus won’t matter anymore—and once word gets out, humans will employ their protocols against us, and that will make joining the ranks of the truly immortal a survival imperative for vampires everywhere.”
“Oh.” Who knew this situation could actually get worse? “So Daphne was right. Your whole plan all along was to get me into your secret lab so you could harvest the Corrupter when the time comes.”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying.” He gives up an anguished groan, rubbing his face. “I was sent here to assess the situation and report back, period. My objective was to keep the situation from spiraling out of control, and to protect the Syndicate’s interests from hostile parties. I wasn’t … Last night was a big mistake.” He makes an emphatic gesture with his hands. “I shouldn’t be telling you any of this. It’s a complete breach of my duties, and if Hecuba finds
out—when she finds out…”
“Why are you telling me?” I need to know this as much as I need to know anything else.
“I don’t want any of this,” he declares flatly. “Neither does Hecuba. I meant everything I said about the horrors of true immortality, and no one can afford a world where unstable, unkillable vampires get to make all the rules. Anyone who sees a massive, overnight paradigm shift as a road to peace is a madman or a fool, and the catastrophe this could bring down on all our heads is unimaginable. We lobbied hard for me to get this assignment because we don’t want any of this.
“The Syndicate isn’t an elected body; it’s an association of lineages represented by their progenitors, and each bloodline has its own agenda. Collectively, the Syndics want to maintain their influence over the world’s undead … and some of them think the Corrupter could be a tool to that end. Hecuba is not so gullible. She knows that the Ascension poses a dire threat to everything she’s spent her considerably long lifetime building, and her desire—our desire—is to see that the status quo is maintained.” Leaning forward, he states, “I came to Fulton Heights hoping and believing this would be just another false alarm in centuries upon centuries of false alarms.”
“But?” I prompt wearily.
“Do you know what syzygy is?” My blank look tells him I don’t, so he fills me in. “It’s an astronomical event, celestial bodies moving into alignment, and it can augur a tremendous focusing of power—just like the ley lines that intersect over Fulton Heights.” Jude points upward, past the frosted glass of the dome ceiling above the food court. “Right now, Pluto, Uranus, Jupiter, and the moon are all moving into formation, and the way they’re affecting the energy under the Nexus … I’ve never experienced anything like it.”
“So the moon is in the seventh house, and Jupiter is aligned with Mars, and I’m about to get donkey-punched by the universe?” I summarize.
The Fell of Dark Page 21