Charles and Adrian whipped around the corner and snapped the necks of both guards. The crack of vertebrae echoed in my mind, and my stomach churned.
How could they kill as though it was nothing? Had there been no better alternative?
My emotions interfered with my signal, and the image rippled, my instincts wanting to block what I’d seen. Pushing aside my fears, I stared at the large empty room and hallways the ignisvisum displayed.
Charles and Adrian reached a set of arched wooden fortress doors, and I located the thought waves of the people on the other side. Based on the thoughts contained there, I imagined the occupants were engaged in light, candid chatter.
“Five inside,” I said.
Adrian and Charles crept past the door, heading down the final corridor that would lead to the Liettes.
I released the people in the other room from my clairaudience and sent my mind out to pick up fresh connections. Immediately, another presence materialized.
This was the last connection I’d expected to make. This was the last person any of us expected to see here. I tried to find my voice, but Charles and Adrian spun around before I could succeed.
{chapter twenty-eight}
THE IGNISVISUM SHARPENED to the point I wasn’t sure if the visions were still in my bowl or playing right in my mind.
I shook my head, but Thalia remained in the vision, her hands poised on her hips, her charcoal sweater contrasting with her glowing violet eyes. My stomach felt pinched—stuck between the gears of a turning clock. If Thalia was here, Circe wouldn’t be far. But I couldn’t place her, and I couldn’t risk dropping any connections to seek her out. I only hoped she wasn’t on her way to find me.
My connection to Adrian intensified, my own thoughts seeping into the background as Thalia strutted over to them.
She clicked her teeth. “Hello, Charlie.”
I startled at the clarity of her spoken words. It was as though I were there—as though I’d reached beyond my clairaudience. Bitter saliva pooled on my tongue, tasting as I imagined the dank air of the stone passages must.
Thalia’s gaze flicked to Adrian, but he only received her passing attention. She already had her sights back on Charles.
Charles’ jaw clenched. “What are you doing here?”
“You’re smart enough to figure that out, no? You fooled me for so long. Thought you were so clever. So tell me—what do you think I’m doing here?”
“Nothing good.” Rage tightened in his chest, the rasp of a beast rattling inside and waiting to break free. All these things were alive in me, too, because of our blood bond and the mental connection we now shared.
Thalia took him in with a smile. “Tsk, tsk, Charlie. I’ve broken no laws. You, on the other hand….”
Charles’ gaze panned the dimly lit halls. They’d been empty—a route for escape—but now other Cruor lurked in the shadows where only the edges of light from the wall sconces gave away their movement.
With a snap of Thalia’s fingers, four guards approached, dressed as Continental Artillery: dark blue jackets faced with scarlet, tan trousers tucked into white socks, and black-buckled, square-toed shoes. But their build was much too large for the late 17th century. Thalia mused at their being dressed in these replica uniforms, all to appease the Council’s Queen—Callista.
At the lapse in Thalia’s attention, Charles lunged for her. Two guards yanked him back, restraining him before he made contact. The other two secured Adrian, who resigned immediately, though Charles tried to pull away. The tallest guard kicked him behind the knee, the force dropping him to the ground.
Thalia waved her hand, and the guards lifted Charles back to his feet.
He lowered his chin to his chest. Leave, Sophia.
Thalia’s face hovered right beside his, and she flicked her tongue against his cheek. “You do taste funny.”
I wiped away the moisture above my lip, but my body was still damp, sweat trickling down my back like tiny bugs fleeing from Thalia’s scathing tone.
Charles recoiled from her touch. “What they are doing here is wrong, Thalia. Why would you get involved?”
“Wrong, Charlie?” She laughed, snatching the earpiece from his and Adrian’s ears. She plunked them into the open hand of one of the guards. “Little hypocrite. All these years with your ‘We can’t hunt humans, it’s the law’ bullshit. Now here I am, abiding these precious little laws, and you condemn me?” She arched an eyebrow, her face frozen as if stapled into place.
Charles gritted his teeth. “The law against dual-breeds is centuries old.”
“Oh, boo hoo. The laws are not there for your convenience, Charlie. You don’t get to pick and choose.” Thalia snapped her gaze toward Adrian. “And you, foolish child—you risk your life for this? He is nothing!”
Adrian’s fangs crunched down and his face contorted with a snarl. “You’re no more than a deadbeat tracker who didn’t meet the mark to join the Council.”
Thalia’s eerie smile slipped for a fraction of a second as she cracked Adrian across the jaw. My own face stung slightly from the phantom impact, and I lifted a hand to my cheek.
“We’ll see who makes the Council.” She spun on her heel and began to walk away. After a few steps, she stopped and called over her shoulder to the guards. “Take them to holding. I’m off to have a little chat with the Queen.” She threw her hand up in dismissal, not bothering to so much as glance back as she strode down the corridor. Her thoughts raced too quickly for me to make sense of them.
I used Adrian as a marker and catalyst into her visions. The ignisvisum scratched her sights through Adrian’s. I tried splitting the views, but without success.
I had to choose.
* * *
THALIA’S HEELS CLICKED down the corridor. The dying torchlight flickered, tossing odd shadows along the floor. The passage reminded me of the entrance to Club Flesh, but the water leaking through the stone walls gave the asylum a more ominous vibe.
Murmurs bled through the archaic doors as Thalia dolefully smoothed her slacks. She knocked. As she lifted her hand to knock again, the door creaked opened and the shadow of a small woman appeared in the doorway.
“Queen Callista,” Thalia said with a small bow.
The Queen stepped forward, and Thalia worked through her discomfort to hold eye contact. Sure, Callista could kill her for any small infraction, but she needed to be regarded as an equal—as one worthy of the Council.
Callista’s bone-thin figure jutted from the dark room, and she hummed a quiet, offbeat tune under her breath. My heart, affected by her eerie lullaby, stuttered. She tilted her head up, her nose a delicate slope, her robes clinging to her small breasts, her alabaster skin glinting beneath the hall light.
She was only a girl, stuck somewhere between youth and womanhood. Fifteen, perhaps, but an ageless fifteen, and with eyes that seemed much older. Eyes that haunted me, staring so intently into Thalia’s that I felt as though she were looking right through her to me.
“Thalia.” The name dripped from the Queen’s tongue like venom from a serpent’s fang.
Black opium incense burned Thalia’s nostrils, and she struggled not to wrinkle her nose. “I’ve apprehended Charles Liette and his companion … Adrian.”
“I am aware.” Callista swept her almost-white hair in front of her shoulder and began loosely braiding. She stared at the ends of her braid, fanning the hair out. When she looked back up to see Thalia still standing there, she released a bored sigh and folded her arms across her chest. “Well?”
Thalia expected an invitation into the room. A long moment passed, Thalia’s smile faltering under Callista’s glare. “I had come to inform you of their arrival and capture, my Queen.”
Callista tapped her foot, and her gaze flashed to the ceiling. She huffed. “Did you believe we were unaware of their presence?”
“Not at all. I mean….” Thalia’s weight shifted from one foot to the other. Of course the Queen had been unaware. If she’d been
aware, she would have sent out her guards to capture Adrian and Charles. “I only meant—they were alone. In the hall near the holding cells. I tracked them.”
“I’d hardly call what you do tracking. Now, if you please”—Callista began to shut the door—“I must return to more pressing matters.”
Thalia shot out a hand to stop the door from closing. Her cheeks and forehead cooled, a stony mask of dignity freezing her face. Callista was going to listen.
“There is someone else, too,” Thalia said. “A spirit elemental.”
My heartbeat roared in my ears. I’d learned my lack of aura came from being a spirit elemental, but how could Thalia possibly know? I inhaled slowly through my nose, trying to slow my vitals as to not drown out the thoughts I invaded. I needed to hear their plan if I was to take action wisely.
Callista stepped aside, sweeping her arm in invitation. “Fine,” she said in a measured tone. “Come in.”
The lights brightened, and Thalia’s eyes widened at the polished marble flooring. Golden light reflected off the floors and highlighted the papered walls: sanguine panels with gold-leaf designs. A grandiose crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. Parlor chairs with scrolled legs and deep-buttoned chaise lounges upholstered with deep red and royal blue velvet adorned the room, barely clad men and women sprawled on their cushions.
Thalia made a contrived effort to conceal her amazement—oh, how she coveted each item, how she envied the very air the Queen breathed. She returned her gaze to Callista, but the Queen quickly turned away and glided over to four young men who stood at attention.
They were the elders of the Council, each in their early teens, some appearing even younger than the Queen. All shared the same pallid skin and coal black eyes and dressed in the same draping black robes with wide sleeves. Callista indicated a parlor chair, but Thalia remained standing.
“Tell me,” Callista said as she stood facing the other Council members. Her body stilled, not even a twitch of a muscle or a sway of her stance. “How do you know this witch you speak of?”
“She found my coterie. She’s been with Charles since at least October.”
“Here it is March,” Callista chided, “and you hadn’t alerted us sooner?”
Thalia rummaged for an excuse—something to cover her selfish ploy to gain a place on the Council, an excuse that would cover how she’d wasted time trying to find a way to personally deliver us to the Queen.
“We didn’t learn until recently,” she finally offered.
Callista growled and spun toward Thalia. “You just told me they have been together since autumn! Why had you not told me when I came to stay with you in the States?”
Thalia bowed slightly in effort to soothe Callista. “My Queen, we only recently learned of their true natures. When you visited—in September—we weren’t aware of her then. Once we were, it would have taken too long to wait for one of your trackers to be sent.” The first statement was said in truth, but Thalia was uncertain of her final remark. She hoped to draw attention to herself as a suitable tracker for the Council.
Callista sneered. “So it is then. Where is this girl now?”
“Here, I believe.”
“You believe, or you know? Can you not track her, Thalia?” Irritation clung to Callista’s tone.
“She doesn’t have a real scent, she—”
“What?”
“She has a scent. What I mean is, it’s weak.”
“Everyone’s scent is weak to you,” Callista replied, rolling her eyes.
“No,” Thalia said sharply. “Hers is very distinct. Just mild.”
“Distinct?” Callista’s eyebrow rose pointedly.
Thalia steeled herself against the Queen’s words. “Yes, distinct. You know, the way the forever girls are said to smell. Not human, and yet, not immortal, either.”
Had she really been able to tell that much that night in the alley? That would mean she’d known before Charles or me. No wonder she’d said I’d be valuable.
“You cannot just toss that around, Thalia. A forever girl.” Callista scoffed. She stared into the distance a moment, then her eyebrows pulled together and she lifted her gaze. “Truly?”
“I am certain,” Thalia said. “I will bring her to you to see for yourself.”
“See that you do not return without her.” She started to pace away, but turned around once more. “Alive, mind you,” she said with a sickly-sweet smile. “I want to meet this … witch.”
Thalia bowed briefly. “One more thing, my Queen….”
“Say it.”
“If I bring you this girl, Charles’ fate is mine to decide.”
Callista narrowed her eyes. “Fine. Though you must wait until we have extracted the information necessary to unlock the key.”
Using my clairaudience, I picked up that ‘key’ had meant a person … or people. But a fog hung over Callista’s thoughts, and all I could discern were general ideas and fragments of thoughts. Something protected her mind.
Thalia slipped out of the room and closed the door. Her vision panned across the passageways.
Where are you? she thought, and she started down the hall.
{chapter twenty-nine}
I TUCKED THE MATCHBOX in my pocket. My leg muscles stiffened as I ran, the weight of my legs reminding me of my childhood nightmares. But there was no nightmarish haze or heavy blanket trapping my legs tonight. Fear alone was the culprit.
I didn’t slow until I reached the mausoleum and crept through the entrance Charles and Adrian had taken earlier. There was no plan—there was only knowing I couldn’t turn away, that I had to go in.
The passages were colder, bigger, and darker than I expected. I’d seen them through Adrian’s eyes before, his night vision far superior to my own.
Each step grated in my ears, surely as loud as thunder to the Cruor. My breath came short, my pulse hammered in my throat. Would they sense my approach? Thalia was searching for me, and here I was, padding deeper into the asylum, closer to my capture. Talk about foolish.
The corridors stretched in every direction, the doors sometimes erratic and far apart and other times evenly spaced and cramped together, all of them eroded at the bottom, revealing rust beneath gray paint.
Charles’ voice rang in my head. Go home, Sophia. Please.
The deeper into the passages I traveled, the stronger the voice of his thoughts became. At some point, I capped out. I was too close to determine whether I was moving closer or farther away.
I strode through the stone corridors, holding my breath against the damp air and stench of mold as I followed the path Charles and Adrian had begun. Where had they planned to go from here?
The thoughts of three guards rushed into my mind. My adrenaline throttled and power surged through me, boiling beneath my skin. Reaching in the deep pockets of my black tiered dress, I wrapped my fingers around the matchbox. I stood still, my breathing fast and shallow as I scanned the area for a place to hide.
It was too late. They were marching toward me. Cool breath prickled the flesh on the back of my neck, and I spun around. The speed of my movement surprised not only me but also the Cruor who had crept up behind me.
His eyebrows pulled together, first in confusion, then the lines deepening into fury. Another Cruor approached from the other direction. Placing the distance of each supernatural was becoming easier. I lit a match, and the first Cruor laughed.
A match? he thought. How pathetic. “What’s that for?”
“This?” I forced a smile. My heart was thumping in my stomach, but now was not the time to show fear. “This is for you.”
I tossed the match and reached out with my hand to hold the flame in the air. No depletion of energy, but the Cruor had me outnumbered.
“What….” His eyes widened.
The match distracted him, but the other Cruor rushed toward me. I stepped aside and spread my hands apart. The fire grew, creating a web between them, catching them both on fire. They screamed, but the c
rackle of fire soon overtook their cries. Smoke burned my nostrils, and, with surprising speed, their bodies reduced to ashes.
I’d killed two men.
I’d killed them, and I didn’t feel bad. I didn’t feel anything. No gut reaction, no moment of guilt. I was responsible for these deaths, and all I could do was stand there, frozen for a moment, hoping I wasn’t such an empty shell of a person that my actions meant nothing.
The third Cruor wasn’t dressed like the others—his hair was slicked back and he wore a plain black suit with a black dress shirt underneath. He clapped his hands slowly as he circled the scene.
“Quite a show,” he said. Clap. Clap. Clap.
I pushed into his thoughts. Nothing. My breaths burst in and out.
“Yes, that’s a neat trick, too.” His face was an unreadable mask—blank, empty, callous. He took another step closer and crossed his arms. “Now that I know your gifts, they will be of no use to you.”
I recognized him then. He’d sent the Cruor after me at Club Flesh; he’d been the one Ivory had asked to stage my attack. Marcus. I hadn’t seen him this close up before, but I was certain. And, clearly, he recognized me as well. My new hairstyle and dark make-up had been enough to disguise me in a crowd, but perhaps it’d been too much to expect it would help me here.
“What are you?” I asked. Being able to prevent me from using my powers went beyond the abilities of the Cruor.
Marcus tilted his head back and scoffed. “Your question—it offends me. Let us skip the formalities, shall we?”
In an instant, he was standing a hair’s breadth away. He glared over my shoulder. “Seems you’ve killed my brothers.” His gaze lowered, burning into my eyes. I went to strike another match, but he knocked my arm away and gritted his teeth. “Enough games.”
He grabbed my arm just as Thalia strode around the corner. I couldn’t read her at all now.
Her heels clicked along the slate floor as she approached. “Oh, how wonderful, Marcus. Goody me. You’ve found her.”
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