“Don’t worry, that’s not what I mean.” What’s strange is that it isn’t until just now that I realize I’ve never even seriously considered it, despite how obvious it is. I shudder a little, wondering just how much of my subconscious is actually occupied. “If the Ascension can’t be stopped, then I’ll go down fighting. I’ll take on the entire Order of the Northern Wolf at once, if I have to, and I’ll kill as many of them as I can until my body gives out.”
“Auggie, you…” Gunnar stops and shakes his head with an agitated frown. “Even if it drains you like it did the other night, you might only lose consciousness again—and then they’d just grab you, and the Ascension would happen anyway. There’s nothing in the ancient writings that says you have to be awake or responsive for the Dark Star to surface.”
“I know.” I cross my arms and look at the floor. “Using Azazel’s power out in the open probably won’t kill me … but the Knights of Perseus will.”
Saying it out loud doesn’t feel any better than thinking it. I don’t want to die, but I still don’t know if the coven really wants to cast Azazel out of me—or if they even can. But whatever else happens on Friday, I’m going to stop the Corrupter, even if I have to use my enemies to do it.
“About a half-dozen Knights staked out your house yesterday,” Gunnar acknowledges. “And that’s in addition to all the vampires that were already in place. Given the personalities involved, it’s a miracle that war didn’t break out.”
“Those men were just the tip of the iceberg.” Jude leans forward, clasping his hands together. “Ever since the death of Jesse Strauss, the Syndicate has been ramping up its intelligence operations against the Persean Knights. We’ve intercepted a flurry of messages over the past forty-eight hours that make it clear the Brotherhood is mustering all its forces for this. They essentially are preparing for a war.”
“Good.” Discreetly, I wipe the sweat off my palms. “I’m arranging one for them.”
“Is that where we come in?” Jude cocks a brow. “You want us to convince Viviane and the Syndics to unite against Rasputin and the Brotherhood? Because honestly, August, you’d have better luck getting blood from a stone.”
“Can you imagine?” Gunnar shares a glance with Jude, and for one unguarded moment they both giggle. “They’d be like cats in a bag.”
“Trust me, I’m not expecting anyone to act out of character. There’s actually something way more important that I need from you two.” I cast a glance toward the kitchen, where the items I found beneath the sink are waiting to be used. “Tomorrow, I’m sending out word to Rasputin that I’m willing to join the Order of the Northern Wolf.”
“What?” Jude goes still. “August, you can’t—”
“I resisted his demands, I killed one of his minions, I fled town—”
“He doesn’t know you were the one who killed William,” Gunnar argues quickly. “We were inside the school, and away from the windows. His spies couldn’t see us, and for all he knows, I—”
“That’s not the point.” I hold my hands up again. “Time’s running out, things are escalating, and he’s not going to be patient much longer. I don’t want him to start sending pieces of my parents to the local newspaper in order to up the ante, you know?” Letting my arms drop, I exhale a shaky breath. “I mean, I’m obviously not going through with it, but I need him to think he’s still in control before he starts to get worried.
“And that brings me to why you’re here.” Sinking down into the same chair I used when I met the coven, I grip my knees until my fingers turn white. “No matter what happens on Friday, my parents need to be rescued, and Azazel needs to be stopped, and … and you guys are the only ones I can trust to make sure that happens.”
They exchange another look, and Gunnar begins, “Auggie—”
“I know: Your bosses have big plans, and you’ve been given orders, and blobbity blah. But I know you.” I make eye contact with both of them. “Neither one of you came here wanting the Ascension to happen, and nobody knows what this thing inside of me is going to want when it breaks free.” Squeezing my knees tighter, I add, “We’re talking about the ‘father of all vampires’—an actual angel who’s spent all of human existence trying to get back here and assert itself. This thing isn’t looking to take orders from its children, and making me pinky swear my allegiance and hoping it counts for jack shit later is nuts.”
Jude’s mouth curves into a hollow smile. “All right. You’re not wrong—about any of it—but promising to help is … I mean, we still don’t know where Rasputin is hiding, let alone where he might be keeping prisoners. Besides, the oath I swore to the Syndicate will prevent me from acting against their interests. No doubt Gunnar is in the same position.”
“Actually,” Gunnar mumbles, suddenly fixated on his fingernails, “I never swore an oath to the League.”
Jude does an actual cartoon double take. “Wait, what?”
“Viviane never asked me to.” Gunnar shrugs, his gaze flicking to Jude and then back down again. “Kramer made her pledge her blood before he would Turn her, and even though she eventually came to believe, she didn’t want me or anyone else to be deprived of free will.”
Jude continues to stare at him. “You mean you’ve had the ability to walk away at any time, but you’ve chosen to stay with them?”
“Obviously.” Gunnar bites the word off.
“I still don’t understand.” Jude’s massages his brow. “You joined them despite never believing in their central cause, and even though they hold nothing over you, you still do all their bidding anyway?” Gunnar doesn’t answer him, so he presses, “How does Viviane Duclos know you won’t betray her entire organization?”
“Because she trusts me, okay?” Gunnar finally explodes. “This isn’t easy! I joined the League because Viviane was a friend to me when I needed one the most, and because she’s never done anything but help me figure out who I am and what I want. Maybe that whole concept is alien to you—”
“Hey!” Jude rises to the bait instantly, his eyes smoldering. “When I Turned you without authorization, I put my position at risk and jeopardized all of the relationships I had with the only people that I’ve ever trusted—including Hecuba! How have you possibly forgotten that?” Tossing out his arms, he snaps, “You’re so determined to cast me as a villain that you’ve decided you never mattered to me, and it’s bullshit!”
“Rasputin is going to kill my parents if you don’t help me save them,” I interrupt loudly. Maybe I’m not sad I never had a boyfriend. “Letting innocent humans get slaughtered by a megalomaniac with a god complex won’t help either the League or the Syndicate—and if my one shot at surviving this fails, then the Ascension proceeds and the whole world will be destroyed. Figure out how you feel about that.”
There’s a long silence, stars glittering through the tall windows, before Jude rubs his face. “Just … what is it you expect us to do? How are we supposed to pull this off?”
So I tell them—what parts of my plan make sense, and which I can safely share—and they listen with pensive expressions. There are a lot of critical gaps in my account, and by the time I’m done, I’m sweating. Without the full picture, it’s an incredibly weak case, but I’ve got no other choice. “I know this is a lot to ask, and I’m sorry, but … I won’t be able to just take your word that you’ll help me. I need both of you to swear a blood oath.”
Jude stills. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” I repeat, scrubbing moisture from my hairline. “Even if things go perfectly, Friday night is going to be overwhelming, and Rasputin…” It takes a moment for me to work the kinks out of my voice. “He’ll use my parents against me. I won’t be able to focus unless I’m sure they’re covered—and if the shit really hits the fan, I need to know that someone will push the reset button before I pop out the final boss.” For the umpteenth time in the past few days, I reach up to adjust the glasses I’m no longer wearing. “Please do this. Please. I can’t … I don’t have
a better argument than that. If the Ascension is stopped, we save the world; but these are two things I can’t do by myself, and I need you. Please.”
“August,” Jude says again, but he can’t seem to find any more words after that.
“You said the Syndicate doesn’t even believe in the Corrupter—not officially.” I’m pleading at this point, all but on bended knee. “So anything you might do to keep him from taking over isn’t technically against their interests, right?”
Squirming, fidgeting, his expression miserable, Gunnar interrupts. “I’ll do it.”
“You will?” It’s my turn for the double take.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said the other night—about all my chances, and how you only get this one? You were right: It’s not fair. And Viviane … she’s so close to something she’s dreamed of for centuries that she’s lost sight of her own principles.” He looks around the room, like maybe it’s the last time he’ll ever see freedom. “She thinks we need the Dark Star to save the world, but maybe we don’t. She’s the one I’ve always believed in, not Azazel, and her dreams can come true without him.” He gives me a melancholy smile. “I hope she understands, but … I promised you I’d help, and I meant it.”
I turn to Jude, who has his clasped hands now pressed tightly to his mouth, but when he meets my eyes, he gives a minute nod. “Okay. I … okay.”
“Really?” If anything, Gunnar is even more surprised than I am.
“You have no idea what kind of ground game Rasputin has, or how many lackeys he might have Turned by now, just to protect his objectives,” Jude answers irritably. “If you try this alone, you’ll get killed, and I … I won’t let that happen.”
Gunnar stiffens. “I know how to watch my own back.”
“Of course you do—I trained you. But there’s no way this is a one-man job. You’ll need help.” Jude rolls his shoulders. “Anyway, believe it or not, I don’t want you to die, and I don’t want the Corrupter to Ascend. If there’s any way my entering into this pact will aid the plan to stop him, I’m on board, and that’s all there is to it.” With a defeated gesture, he adds, “Besides, Auggie is right: Absent a guarantee that they would control him, Azazel is a threat to the Syndics’ entire power structure. So in my view—and Hecuba’s—anything I do to prevent the Ascension is in their best interests.”
“Okay.” I bob my head, my insides careening around like a pinball game. Now that they’ve agreed, it feels like we somehow just took a massive leap closer to Friday. “Okay.”
Mechanically, I retrieve my items from the kitchen and arrange them on the floor in a circle, following my instincts. I place a hunk of crystal in one position, to signify earth; in the next, I set a cone of incense, its smoke meant to call forth the element of air; then a bit of volcanic rock for fire, a seashell for water, and a budding twig for wood. The last element, metal, is represented by a coin so old its engravings are worn away completely.
Jude arches a brow. “You’re certainly prepared.”
“Sort of?” I don’t want to admit just how much I’m winging it, here. Setting out a bowl and a group of seven candles, I then move around the apartment, drawing the thick black curtains across the windows—not for any particular reason, but because that’s how I remember it. The exposed brick walls, the heavy drapes, the bowl and candlelight and smoking incense … My visions changed a little, but each time the room looked like this. I’ve got what might be a cyclone of bumblebees swarming in my guts, because my visions also consistently featured a lot of nakedness, and I still don’t know if I’m ready for that.
When I turn back to the circle, to the two vampires who wait and watch, my heart thuds between my legs as I remember them without their shirts. I’m such a joke—about to enter into a mystical pact with the undead, on the precipice of literal doomsday, and I’m getting a boner. Life would be a lot easier if I could’ve been born a hermit crab or something.
Gunnar senses my hesitance and cocks his head. “Auggie?”
“I…” I’m at full mast now, and I’m not sure they can’t tell. Maybe getting my soul immolated won’t be so bad after all. “I don’t really know how to do this.”
“It’s less intimidating than it seems.” Jude smiles at me. “We can walk you through it. The ritual is essentially the same from one pact to the next, although the specific steps might vary depending on the participants.”
“Okay.” I force myself to come closer, and they hold out their hands for me, bringing me into the circle. They walk me through the steps, and together we light candles and invoke the elements. A warm glow beats the walls, the air sweet with incense, and the circle floods with energy as I fumble nervously with a sterilized lance.
“Remember: It’s more about the intention than the words,” Jude says softly. “Just speak from the heart.”
Holding my breath, I prick my fingertip, drawing a bead of dark blood. Gunnar makes a noise in the back of his throat, and when I look up, both vampires’ eyes blaze a bright, hot gold. As I squeeze a few drops of the thick fluid into the bowl, I struggle through a basic oath with their coaching. “May the blood I spill tonight signify my intent: to rescue my parents and halt the Ascension. Let those who would share my goal join their will to mine, bind their deeds to their word, and swear their troth by this act.”
I pass the lance to Gunnar, who stares for a speechless moment before pricking his own finger. “May the blood I spill tonight signify my intent: to rescue Auggie’s parents and halt the Ascension. I join my will to his, my deeds to my word, and I swear my troth.”
Jude goes next, his blood mixing with ours, and he repeats the phrase. No sooner has he spoken than the puddle in the bowl turns black. It crackles and sparks, and a plume of smoke rises from it to mingle with the incense, leaving behind only a smudge of ashes.
Something sweeps through me, the thick energy inside the circle dispersing—and I can tell right away the magic has worked. The sensation is exhilarating and terrifying at once, because this was no entry-level spell; once again, I performed real-deal sorcery, something I could only accomplish because of what’s gradually expanding inside of me.
“That’s it,” Jude declares quietly, once we’ve released the elements and closed the circle. “It’s done.”
Gunnar’s eyes still glow, the tips of his fangs showing, and when I catch him staring again, he shrinks back. “I’m sorry, honestly. I didn’t mean to … It’s just … It’s your blood. I’ve never smelled anything like it.”
“It’s the Corrupter.” Jude speaks in a reverent hush, threads of golden light swimming in his eyes as well. “It has to be. He’s so close to the surface, his magic is all the way through you.”
“Oh.” I look down at my finger, at the tiny puncture that hasn’t had time to close, filled with anxious curiosity.
“I-is there…,” Gunnar stammers and shuts his mouth; then, “Can I … taste you?” Embarrassment suffuses his expression, but he continues, “Please? I’ll be careful, I promise, but I just…”
I’m not sure what to say. I’ve always been taught to say no to a request like this, to never volunteer my blood to a vampire—because what if they lose control? But the way he asks makes my heart race, pressure building in my groin again as I consider the intimacy of such an act, and I’m holding my hand out to him before I know it.
He parts his lips, sliding his tongue across the tip of my finger, and sparks dance up my spine as his lids flutter closed in pleasure. I gurgle out a sigh when his lips close around my knuckle, as he draws a gentle trickle of blood from the puncture, and my pulse beats like a blacksmith’s hammer. After a moment, Gunnar pulls back, his eyes glowing even brighter when they open again. “Jude, you have to taste this.”
He passes my hand to his ex-boyfriend, who blinks heavily, his golden eyes fixed on mine in a stupor. When Jude accepts my finger, taking me into his mouth, my head spins with fear and desire. His cheekbones sharpen before my eyes, something about my blood pushing him deeper i
nto his transformation.
Gunnar’s hand slides over my chest, his lips brushing my ear, his voice rough as he asks, “Can we drink from you?”
I turn to look at him, and find him wearing the face he had the night we kissed in his car—all sharp angles and strange, terrifying beauty. “Is it … safe?”
“We’ll take care of you,” Jude murmurs against my fingertip, his lips impossibly soft. “Neither of us wants you to be hurt.”
“If you have a little bit of our blood first, it’ll help your body replenish whatever you lose.” Gunnar’s mouth grazes against the side of my neck, and every part of my body that can stand up is up. “We’ll go slow, and we’ll never take so much that you’re in danger.”
“When it’s done the right way, feeding can be pleasurable for both humans and vampires.” Jude removes his jacket and then his shirt, his skin polished by candlelight. His eyes meet mine. “We’ll do it the right way.”
“Turning involves much more than all this, so you don’t have to worry,” Gunnar adds, his mouth just below my ear. “Nothing has to happen tonight that you don’t want, okay? The choice is yours—just say the word.”
This is, of course, exactly what I’m worried about. It’s almost ironic: Only days ago, I was asking Jude to make me into a vampire—to exploit a supernatural loophole, and save both me and the world. But now I’ve got a chance to live again, to save everyone, and I don’t want to lose it. If this drinking game goes wrong, all my plans are destroyed. But I trust these two undead boys, I realize, and I think I want to know what Jude means when he says feeding can be pleasurable.
My nerves are snapping like castanets, and I can’t speak—but I manage a staccato nod. I want to know what this feels like, and I trust them as much as I’m willing to trust anyone. “Okay. Yes.”
The Fell of Dark Page 29