by L. M. Pruitt
I didn’t have to be in the room to see Celia cross her arms and stick her lower lip out. “I don’t have to see things if I don’t want to, Elizabeth said so.”
“But your lovely sister isn’t here, cherie, and we are. You don’t want to disappoint us, now do you?” Evangeline’s voice was silky smooth. Celia wasn’t impressed.
“I don’t want to, and I don’t have to.”
A crash came from outside, the opposite direction of where Elizabeth and I had entered. Sounded like the rest of the rescue group had finally noticed we weren’t around. Inside the room, Hart apparently thought the troops were coming in after him, yelling for various people to go and deal with the problem.
I heard the sound of rushing feet, and worried they’d come out and discover us. Through divine intervention or dumb luck, they didn’t. I took a deep breath and eased across the hallway, Elizabeth at my heels. The door to Hart’s room stood slightly ajar and I nudged it open slowly, to get a line of sight.
They’d placed Celia in the center of the room, her feet swung back and forth, kicking the chair. Her arms were folded over her chest, and I’d been right – her lower lip stuck out far enough to be comical. An agitated Hart paced back and forth behind her. Clearly, he’d never had to deal with a stubborn five year old before.
Evangeline seemed to be doing somewhat better. She murmured to Celia, low enough I couldn’t make out anything but the sound of her voice. I would guess she wasn’t whispering sweet nothings in her ear.
I took a step back, and whispered to Elizabeth, “You take Hart. I’ll take Evangeline. On three.”
With a deep breath, I began pushing power through my veins. “One.”
Elizabeth pulled her gun out, clicking the safety off. “Two.”
I sent a quick prayer to any saint I could think of, including my namesakes. “Three.”
I slammed the door open, ducking low, fire blasting from my hand almost before I had time to aim. Jerking slightly to the right, I caught Evangeline full in the face. Above me, Elizabeth fired six or seven times before I lost count. I only noticed when the thundering booms stopped.
At first I thought the room had gone quiet, and then I realized I couldn’t hear because the gunshots had momentarily deafened me. Sound began to seep back in. The raggedness of my breath came first, then Hart’s cursing and Evangeline’s shrieks. Something thudded on the floor next to me. I looked up to see Elizabeth ejecting the clip and slamming another one in.
Hart lay on the clapboard floor, writhing in pain and cursing in French and English. As for Evangeline, I don’t know if being burnt alive qualified as a fate worse than death, but it sure as hell didn’t look pleasant. I’d sworn I’d make sure she stopped giggling, but part of me wondered if I might have found a cleaner way.
Celia hopped off the chair, skipped across the room and wrapped her arms around Elizabeth’s waist. “I knew you’d come and get me, Lizzie.” She turned and squeezed my leg. “And you, Jude.”
“And here we are. Let Elizabeth carry you, so we can get out of here.” Elizabeth hoisted Celia up, switching the gun to her right hand. I stood and gave Hart and what had been Evangeline one last look before pushing Elizabeth out the door.
A crash sounded behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Hart using the chair to pull himself to his feet. You’d think a full clip would have kept him down longer. Another crash as a door across the room slammed open and more bad guys swarmed in.
“Run. Now.”
I pushed Elizabeth toward the front door. Behind me I could already hear the sounds of pursuit, and I knew we weren’t going to make it. Not all of us.
Keeping my eyes on Hart’s door, I pushed the girls ahead of me. Elizabeth cursed, ramming her shoulder into the door once, twice, before the wood gave. The timing was fortunate for her because the hallway suddenly flooded with bad vamps. I poured fire from my hand, less concerned with hitting anyone in particular than with just hitting anyone.
I kept pouring fire as I stumbled backward onto the porch and my hand jerking up caught the roof on fire. Two more steps and I fell down the stairs, the grass catching fire around me. Someone hoisted me up by the elbows, and I craned my neck back to see Theo above me.
“You’re going to be the death of me, Jude, I swear to God.”
“Just like your mother was to your father.” I jerked my head forward to stare in shock as Hart walked through the flames. After what he’d witnessed happen to his little blonde cupcake you’d expect some concern, but no. He strolled as nonchalantly as if he was taking a walk down Canal.
“Your mother was the more powerful of the two. And yet all it took was a simple knock on the head to put her under.” Hart smiled, looking like Satan himself emerging from the flames of hell. “The accident was harder to arrange than actually killing them.” He directed the next smile toward me. “But then, you’d have found that out with your little friend. Izzy, correct?”
I felt Theo falter behind me and pushed him back. Hart kept walking toward us. I couldn’t seem to move, like the horror of his last few sentences had frozen me and Theo in place. He stood within arm’s reach when I felt the ground rumble beneath me, and even though we were in Louisiana, my first thought was still earthquake.
Hart stumbled back and Gillian suddenly appeared, her hair flying in the air. I wanted to step forward, to help, to do something, and couldn’t. A wall of magic like the one I’d thrown up the other night kept me out.
I beat my hands against the invisible shield, battered them until my fists went numb. I called her name, again and again, until I screamed it while Theo tried to pull me back. Gillian and Hart remained locked in some intricate battle, so tangled together you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
Gillian drew blood, but didn’t call fire, when I knew she could. Hart snarled, but didn’t bite. They were playing games with each other while the world around them burned. When Gillian punched Hart viciously enough to have his neck snapping back, I saw the look in his eyes change. Playtime was over.
I felt another set of hands on me, and recognized Williams’ smell as he and Theo fought to pull me away. I kicked and screamed, but it’s impossible to fight against two grown men, one of whom can lift a car.
I watched as Hart finally subdued Gillian enough to twist her around to face us, his face contorted with anger, hers eerily serene. I watched as Hart reared back, sinking his fangs deep into the bend of Gillian’s neck. I watched while Gillian opened and closed her left hand, the earth beneath us began to tremble and shake in earnest.
The ground in front of me split apart even as it continued to shake. Inside the circle, pieces of soggy grass lifted up and buckled. The house began to fall down in earnest, from the fire and the collapsing ground. Through everything, Hart drained Gillian, and Gillian kept her eyes locked on mine.
Until the last, Gillian raised both arms high over her head, clenching her hands into fists. With a final wave, she brought both arms down and the circle imploded.
The force knocked the three of us into the street. The night sky exploded in sparks and flames, and as the dust began to clear, I could see where a plot of land had been. Nothing remained but a gaping hole.
“Gillian.” I whispered her name, certain my eyes were wrong.
“She’s gone. Jude, she’s gone.” Theo pulled me to my feet, and I felt him shaking. “The circle broke. She’s gone.”
“No. You’re lying.” I couldn’t accept the truth.
“No, Jude Magdalyn. Gillian has fallen.” Williams’ face held less color than usual. “We have to go. The city’s emergency services will be here, if only to contain the destruction.”
“They can’t explain this away.”
“A sinkhole opened up, Jude Magdalyn. A sinkhole in land which used to be nothing but swamp.” Williams’ eyes were huge and dark in his face. “Our being here will cause nothing but problems.”
“We can’t leave her body here.” My voice broke, the beginnings of
grief taking over. “We have to find her body.”
“My men will find her, quicker than you could.” Williams looked over my head, and I knew he was silently asking Theo for help. Theo took my arm, pulling me down the block to where we’d left our vehicles. “Go, Jude Magdalyn. We will bring Gillian back to you.”
Theo pulled harder and I turned, walking faster, then running, breath burning in my lungs and my feet slapping against the pavement. Theo ran beside me, and the further we ran the quieter everything became until all the sound in the world was our running and the unbearable quiet. The wind raced over my skin, cooling the hot tears sliding down my cheeks and dripping off my jaw.
The only car remaining was Theo’s, the engine already running. Rian sat in the driver’s seat, Elizabeth and Celia huddled together in the passenger seat. Theo reached the car first, flung open the driver’s side rear door, all but pushed me in and crawled in after me. “Go, Rian. Hurry.”
Rian looked over his shoulder into the backseat, apprehension creeping over his features. “Where’s Gillian?”
Tears thickened my voice. “We lost her.”
Oh, God. What was going to happen to us now?
Chapter Twenty-Four
The mug burned my hands, but after half a bottle of whiskey I felt no pain and didn’t care. Less than two weeks ago, I’d sat in my pseudo-kitchen and sipped coffee from the same mug while telling Gillian she didn’t know anything about me. I knew who I was, nobody else.
Now Gillian was gone and I had no clue who I was supposed to be anymore.
Members of the Covenant began arriving at the house before we were even back, like they’d somehow known the night had turned unbelievably tragic. My mind wouldn’t wrap around the fact Gillian wasn’t walking through the parlor door any moment, demanding to know why I was sitting on my ass instead of downstairs practicing.
God. Practice sessions. I didn’t even know how I breathed from one moment to the next.
Lies had stepped up to control the flow of visitors, pushing out the ones who wanted to stay overly long. Couldn’t they understand I didn’t want to see anyone, for any amount of time?
More than one person bowed or knelt at my feet. I couldn’t understand why. What kind of leader couldn’t save the woman who’d shown me what I was capable of? How could I ask these people to trust me, when I’d let one of the most powerful among us sacrifice herself while I stood and did nothing?
Some part of me knew my thoughts weren’t the entire truth, not even partially. The larger part of me, the one I couldn’t make shut up and leave me alone, kept repeating the same words.
It’s your fault. You’ll fail again. It’s your fault. You’ll fail again. It’s your fault. It’s your fault. It’s your fault.
God forgive me, I believed.
I raised my gaze from the black pool of coffee in my hands as the door opened. My heart tripped for one moment, the voice quiet long enough for another one to speak. Theo. Please, be Theo. Then the door pushed open, and Williams stood framed in the doorway.
The insistent voice started up again.
“I’m sorry, Jude Magdalyn. A decision must be made concerning… Gillian.” I don’t know what he would have said instead of her name, but it tore at me nonetheless. Another pair of those seemingly endless tears slid down my face, and I closed my eyes, drawing a deep breath.
“Send them in, Williams. The sooner, the better.”
Whoever waited to consult with me must have been right behind Williams because when I opened my eyes two new men stood in front of me. I blinked a few times to make sure my brain wasn’t so overwhelmed I saw double. Everything about them was identical, down to the shine on their black leather shoes.
“Our condolences, Ms. Henries.”
Even their voices were identical. “Jude. Thank you. What do you need to know?”
“Gillian was very specific about her plans. Her instructions included a traditional Irish wake before her interment at Lafayette No. 1, Uptown.” Two pairs of hands smoothed over lapels, checked the straightness of ties. The exactness was unnerving. “You are, of course, free to alter these plans, as Gillian noted in the most recent addendum.”
I shook my head, guilt and grief slamming into me. She’d trusted me with her last wishes, and I’d gotten her killed. “No, no. Whatever Gillian wanted, make sure it’s done.”
They nodded simultaneously, turning on their heels and exiting in unison. Williams made to close the door, to leave me alone but I couldn’t stand the quiet anymore. It screamed of my failure. “Where’s Theo?”
Williams paused, and a look I couldn’t interpret flashed across his face. “He has gone to his parents’ home. The additional information he received tonight about their deaths has… disturbed him.”
More guilt, of course. Bad enough to have thought their death an accident, a twist of fate. To find out it had been carefully orchestrated and with painstaking attention to detail would have to be even worse. I nodded, my heart sinking. “Did anyone go with him?”
“Rian, young Elizabeth, and Celia.” Williams stepped further into the room, easing the door shut behind him. “Is there anything I can get for you, Jude Magdalyn?”
I laughed, not surprised to see Williams’ slight jolt. Even I could hear the thin edge of hysteria. “Can you turn back the last few hours? Give me a chance to not kill Gillian?”
“You did not kill Gillian. She made her decision and if she knew you doubted her, she would not hesitate to strip the skin from your bones with a few good words.”
I shook my head, rising to my feet and sloshed coffee onto my hand. Cursing, I hurled the mug into the fireplace, the sound of smashing porcelain painfully loud in the quiet of the room. “We’ll never know, will we? In three days we’ll be sliding her into a tomb Uptown.”
“This guilt accomplishes nothing, Jude Magdalyn, and only weakens you at the very time that you need to be strong.” His hands were heavy on my shoulders, but I shrugged them off, moving to stand in front of the window. Already the sidewalks were lined with candles whose lights would only go out once we laid Gillian fully to rest.
“I don’t want to do this anymore. Give it to someone else, the twins and their mother, or Lisette. Give it to someone who knows what they hell they’re doing. I don’t, and I’m tired of people dying because I’m a failure.”
“War always contains casualties, Jude Magdalyn.”
“Don’t call Gillian a casualty, like her death was expected. She wouldn’t have died if I hadn’t been so fucking impatient, if I’d just waited a few minutes.”
“And would Celia have died if you’d waited? Whose death would you have rather have on your conscience?”
“No one’s.” I shouted, tears pouring down my face. “I don’t want to worry about people dying because I’m a screw up, because I don’t know what to do.” I pressed my hands over my chest, like the pressure would help the aching and burning. “What am I supposed to do without Gillian? What am I supposed to do?”
I wasn’t aware Williams had crossed the room until suddenly his arms closed around me, pulling me close to him. I couldn’t keep the crying under control anymore and my knees buckled. Williams slid to the ground with me, whispering words in a language I couldn’t understand.
It seemed like forever and yet not nearly long enough before my sobs quieted down to whimpers. I became aware of Williams’ holding me very, very close. His hand moved slowly up and down my back. My face pressed close to his neck, and I took a deep breath, inhaling his mixture of expensive cologne and otherness. His hand slid under my shirt on its trip up my back and I tensed, muscles knotting faster than an expert seaman.
I should have pulled away. Instead, I drew him closer.
“Jude.” His breath ruffled my hair, sent shivers down my spine. “You’re drunk.” He started to draw back and I tightened my grip, dug my fingers into his hips. “Jude.”
“Don’t. Don’t go. I don’t want to be alone right now.” I laid my lips over where hi
s pulse would have been and kissed softly. “Stay with me. Please.”
His hands slid over my back, came up to fist in my hair. He jerked my head back until I could see his face and he could see mine. “You would tempt a saint. And I am no saint, Jude Magdalyn.”
His mouth was as decadent as I remembered, more so, as if the events of the night had changed us both so much that every flavor, every touch was deeper, richer. My fingers shook as they gripped his shirt. My skin warmed where his hands touched my stomach and tangled with the button of my jeans.
He bit my lip. I jumped, moaning, my hands fisting in his hair. His tongue swept into my open mouth, swirling, coaxing. Thoughts of Theo slapped at me, quickly pushed away when Williams sucked on my tongue. I was vaguely aware when he opened my jeans, but not fully until his hand slid into them. Inside and down, teasing over the most sensitive part of me before pulling gently.
I came, instantly, powerfully, so intensely my head reeled for a moment and I could only gasp breath in and out. He didn’t give me time to recover. Moving his clever fingers down further Williams slid them into me, my hips arching to drive them deeper. His mouth moved down my neck, licking a path down my chest. I don’t know when he did it or how, but the front clasp on my bra opened and he shifted his head, sucking a nipple deep into his mouth.
I came again, harder this time, the tension in my muscles bringing tears to my eyes. I felt his fangs, just the slightest pressure, against my breast, and the implied danger had me pulling his head closer with one hand, even as my other struggled to push my jeans the rest of the way off. His fingers slid in and out, and mine clutched convulsively in his hair, the only reaction I could truly manage.
He pulled out, and I whimpered in protest, more so when he raised his head from my breast and pushed to his knees. Williams’ shirt was lifted off and tossed in much the same way mine had been. Unable to help myself, I pushed to a sitting position, leaning forward to run my mouth over the smooth muscle of his chest. He shuddered again, sliding my bra the rest of the way off before pushing me back to the carpet. His pants were off faster than I could see and I raised my hips when his hands tugged at the denim caught on the carpet.