E.V.I.E.: 13 Slayers, 13 Missions

by Lexi C. Foss

  My magic threw its weight against its confines, breaking out. It began effervescing from me before I was able to rein it in, and it turned the mystical darkness around me into a purple-tinged disco. I wrestled with it for a few seconds, but there really wasn’t time to deal with it at the moment.

  My feet had a mind of their own and took off toward the presence I felt. There was a glimmer coming from the path a few feet ahead on my right and I followed it on instinct. Considering the number of enchanted egress spots in here, I wasn’t sure why I was compelled to check out this particular one. I didn’t question it, though, because my gut was rarely wrong. I dashed toward the green glow, which struck me as odd considering the portals in the E.V.I.E. network all sparkled white. Come to think of it, this portal wasn’t marked on the map Violet and I had created and memorized. After a decade of very careful, thorough searching, we were positive we hadn’t missed a single one.

  When I got closer, I saw a man standing in front of a hole in the wall, protected by a green, sparkling barrier.

  The man glanced in my direction and I sucked in a sharp breath.

  Dorian.

  11

  Rowan

  In my head, I pictured the next few moments being a blur as I jumped through the magic opening with my stake at the ready. I’d land on top of him and plunge it into his heart—just like every fantasy I’d had of the moment when I’d burn his ass to ash. Instead, I was frozen, held rooted to my spot, my eyes glued to the object he carried in his hand.

  He was holding a large emerald, that I knew to be packed with power, in a platinum amulet attached to a matching chain.

  It couldn’t be—no—it was impossible. She said she’d destroyed it.

  But the proof was right in front of me. Dorian was holding Emerald’s amulet. That was the familiar presence I’d sensed. Like Violet’s, I could feel the magic of Emerald’s amulet when it was near.

  Dorian smirked before running through the opening, leaving me gawking in his dust.

  My magic was quite put out that we were still standing there, staring after our prey instead of catching him and turning him into a shish kebab. It sent a bolt of power directly to my brain, essentially slapping me upside the head. It worked.

  I flew into action, snatching a stake from its sheath and leaping through the portal. The zing of energy from crossing the magic barrier didn’t even register as my feet hit the ground. Dorian had already sprinted in the opposite direction, but I had enough adrenaline and magic pumping through my veins that I rapidly gained on him. Until he stopped and a hole with a green shimmer appeared on the wall beside him. I was only a few feet away when he jumped through it. It almost closed before I reached it, but at the last second, I dove in, tucked my body, and once I touched the ground, immediately rolled to my feet.

  We’d exited onto a dirt path underneath one of the bridges on the east side of Central Park. Dorian was already off and running, but he glanced behind him and when he spotted me, he scowled. The crimson of his eyes deepened and his lips curled back to reveal his deadly fangs. Despite his angry countenance, his voice sounded amused when he smirked and touted, “You’ll never catch me, munchkin.”

  Neither my magic nor I took his condescending attitude with any sort of grace. I threw up my hand and released a streak of power that should have landed him on his ass. Except, I hadn’t let my magic out to play in a very long time and I missed him by centimeters, then stumbled from a small amount of blowback.

  “Fuck!” I snapped in Russian. He rounded a corner and I urged my body to its limits as I made chase, but those precious seconds had cost me and when I came around the curve, he was gone.

  Every ounce of my body felt like it weighed hundreds of pounds and I fell hard onto my knees. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Catch, kill, go home and sleep, then in the morning, skip into Jude’s office for a smug and satisfying “I told you so.”

  How had this happened? The game had changed and I didn’t know the rules anymore… which put me in very real jeopardy of failing. Something I couldn’t even consider.

  After a few minutes, sensation returned to my legs and I slowly climbed to my feet, then plodded to the nearest bench and dropped heavily onto it. I needed to think clearly, but my mind was racing a mile a minute and if I hadn’t been sapped of energy, I would have been wearing out a path in the grass.

  I wagged my head, trying to slow the funnel cloud whipping around inside me. A picture of Emerald’s amulet popped into my brain and I had an idea. It was a long shot, but...

  I grasped my pink sapphire with both hands and relaxed back into the bench seat. My magic slowly flowed through my limbs and it blended with the power emulating from the enchanted stone. Using the combined power, I pushed my mind and magic out in search of Emerald’s necklace.

  When I created the four amulets—mine, Violet’s, Emerald’s, and Anastasia’s, I’d added a spell to protect the owner and wearer from being tracked. However, since I’d used my own blood in the forging of the bewitched tokens, I had an unusual connection to them. I could sense their existence if I really tried. I felt like a fool for not using this gift to ensure that Emerald’s amulet had, in fact, been destroyed. Now, as I reached out for it, I could feel the essence of the stone through the connection. Unfortunately, despite how powerful a witch I was, and as hard as I tried, I couldn’t locate the amulet.

  “Ugh! Vot eto pizdets!” I snarled as I slammed my hands onto the bench on both sides of me.

  The whole situation was fucked up, but there was something that was particularly worrisome. These amulets had only ever been crafted for those who had slayer blood in their veins—other than the witches who be-spelled them. Each was really only useful to its owner, though they would still benefit other slayers in a limited capacity. There were also those who believed otherwise. Unless Dorian subscribed to the false rumors about the purpose and abilities of the amulets, he should know they would only give the wearers immortality, right? It’s not like it could make him more immortal.

  And how the hell had he learned about the amulets in the first place?

  Was he from a slayer bloodline?

  “No,” I denied with a shake of my head. In this reality, there was no slayer dynasty and no vampire dynasty, which meant no amulets—at least with the same power and purpose as ours. If I didn’t know for sure that Dorian was strictly a nightwalker, I might have feared that he was from the realm of my childhood.

  My eyes had drifted shut and my lids felt like lead aprons. It was early, but I was done for the night. My head was pounding and I had to face yet another day gone without accomplishing my task.

  Intuition told me that I needed to dodge Miranda tomorrow if I wanted to avoid another enjoyable meeting with the boss. I sighed and yanked the plastic off the bottom of my braid before shaking it out and running my fingers through it. I spent a few minutes tussling with my magic, forcing it back into its confinement, but I was even more determined after my fuck-up earlier. Then I pushed up from the bench and massaged my scalp as I began to follow a path that would spit me out at 59th and 5th.

  When I reached the Grand Army Plaza, I glanced toward the statue in the northern plaza and did a double-take. The gold-coated monument of Union General William Tecumseh Sherman was now marble… I didn’t remember hearing about a plan to change the statue and it had been the usual gold when I’d been here a few days ago. This night was all kinds of weird, but honestly, I had way bigger things to worry about, so I set this aside as one of those things and kept walking.

  When I reached the corner of 58th and 5th, I felt a strange urge to keep on the avenue and walk toward the cathedral. It was almost overwhelming and I wondered if, despite my fatigue, I was subconsciously craving the company I would find in the nightclub. Perhaps I’d find someone to “help” me sleep tonight. The images from my dreams floated through my mind and I decided that was the kind of vigorous activity I needed to work off my mood. Thinking about taking some hot guy home put a li
ttle pep in my step.

  I approached the entrance, skipping down the steps and into the—had I finally lost my ever-loving mind?

  The room was aglow with low lighting, mostly from the candles that were set on the plethora of tables placed uniformly around the space. There was a hum of sound from soft-spoken conversations, only broken up by the clinking of silverware and glasses. A young man that looked to be around twenty walked up to me with a smile that clearly displayed a set of pearly white teeth that included two razor sharp fangs. When I gasped and backed up, he faltered in his step, his mouth tipping down and his brown eyes filling with disappointment. It seemed my reaction wasn’t unfamiliar to him.

  “Hello. I’m Ty. Can I get you a table, miss?” he inquired in an overly polite tone. I shook my head and glanced around again. Since when did this place employ vamps? Not that they were all bad…just most of them.

  “Well, if you’re not here to eat, is there something else I can help you with?”

  Thinking fast, I blurted, “Um, I’m just going to run to the back and use the bathroom. Starbucks was closed and I’m bursting.”

  A lot of establishments in NYC had signs that warned people that bathrooms were for customers only. But if someone was truly in need and Starbucks—the place you could always count on to have a bathroom, with the exception of one in Times Square, and be fairly clean—was closed or nowhere near, they sometimes made an exception.

  I smiled apologetically and placed my hand on the young man’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for acting a little crazy,” I said with a sad voice. “You just remind me so much of my dead brother. It was a bit of a shock.”

  The ability to recognize falsehoods didn’t mean I wasn’t excellent at telling my own.

  Ty’s face melted into one of compassion and his smile returned. “I understand,” he said with a gentle tilt of his head and a pat on my hand. “Go ahead, but don’t tell anyone, okay? I need this job to pay for my tuition.”

  I mimed zipping my lips and winked at him before making a beeline for the back of the club—uh, restaurant, I guess.

  I found my way through the catacombs and spotted a familiar hallway to the E.V.I.E. portal. I sighed in relief that it was there. I’d just come through it not long ago so if it hadn’t been, I would truly have thought I’d gone mad. I returned to the restaurant and gave Ty a wave, receiving one in return, before exiting back out onto the street. I hurried the few blocks down to E.V.I.E., which looked the same as usual. My body began to relax as the familiarity of the place made me feel like everything was as it should be. With the exception of a statue, a nightclub, and a vampire waiter…but those could easily be explained.

  Not by me, but I was sure that one of the higher-ups at E.V.I.E. would have a better explanation than, “Rowan, you’ve lost your marbles. Let’s take a trip to Bellevue.”

  When I reached the entrance to the headquarters, I pulled open the door and stopped, taking in the scene before me. There was a bustle of activity in the lobby—not unusual—but it looked different. The marble was darker and the security desk was stretched in front of me, with turnstiles on either side that allowed access to the area around the elevators.

  I didn’t recognize a single person.

  Okay…this was surreal. I doubted I’d died and gone to Hell… Maybe I’d fallen asleep and accidentally slept for several weeks? Maybe I was still asleep? My magic sent a shock of electricity over my skin, apparently finding my rationalizations absurd.

  “Ouch!” I snapped, keeping my voice low so no one would notice me talking to myself. “Would you behave?” It rattled the cage a little, but thankfully settled down. “Thank you.”

  I studied the unfamiliar place and people before me for another moment, then ran my fingers through my hair and straightened my posture. “Stop being a pansy, Ro. What’s the worst that could happen?” I felt a sharp pulse in my thigh and rolled my eyes.

  “No need to kick me,” I muttered to my magic. “It wasn’t a stupid question—ouch!” The pain in my leg throbbed harder this time. “Cut it out!”

  Irritated at my magic…and myself, I took the leap, metaphorically speaking, and walked across the threshold. My eyes swept over the room and the whole situation just seemed surreal.

  Maybe I wasn’t asleep, but there had to be an explanation. Other than having been transported to The Twilight Zone.

  Transported.

  It hit me at that moment and all the confusion melted away, replaced by shock and fear. I hadn’t gone through just any portal. Somehow, I’d opened one that had taken me back to the realm I’d left almost one hundred years ago. One where E.V.I.E. didn’t exist, and vampires were day-walkers, and…my life was in danger from more than a few vapid bloodsuckers trolling around New York City.

  Well, that explained the color change in the portal, but I still didn’t know how I’d done it.

  The fear began to grow, and I shrank back into myself, feeling lost and vulnerable. I was back in a place where there was probably a reward for my capture—alone and unprotected.

  I’m a deadly bitch and can protect myself, but if the vampires who’d taken down the Romanovs wanted me—and given my ability to make amulets, it was likely—they would send enough muscle to make it near impossible for me to fight them all off.

  I abhorred feeling weak and helpless, and I’d spent a century training and building a protective wall around myself so I would never again be plagued with those emotions. My magic pulsed, reminding me that I wasn’t alone, despite its constant indignation at being hidden away.

  “You’re a fierce and indomitable woman, Rowan. Act like it.” I bobbed my head and once again stood straight and tall.

  I glanced at the security desk and noticed that the woman behind the counter was watching me curiously. I hoped it was because she didn’t know me and not because she’d witnessed me talking to myself. Putting on my most confident air and pushing away any lingering fear and anxiety, I marched up to the desk. I huffed in annoyance that it was too high for me to even set my arms on.

  This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, but at least it only came to my shoulders this time. I wasn’t surprised when the woman looked down at me—again, figuratively speaking since she did, in fact, have to look down to see me.

  I met her eyes and saw that they were dark brown with a yellow ring around the iris. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail, but the grey to black ombre was still easy to spot. She was a shifter—a falcon if I’d had to guess. She was clearly of Asian descent, so I was going to go with Shaheen falcon.

  My Spidey, or witchy, senses were rarely wrong when it came to identifying paranormal creatures.

  “What is this place?” I asked, getting right to the point.

  The falcon, Marley, if her name tag was correct, narrowed her eyes suspiciously and her mouth twisted into a cynical smile. “If you have to ask, you shouldn’t be here.”

  Her assessing gaze flickered over me. I imagined she could sense that I wasn’t human but couldn’t figure out what I was.

  I felt another set of eyes on me and glanced to the right, realizing there was another occupant at the security desk. I immediately knew she was a witch and my confidence almost faltered. What if she had connections to the witch’s council in Russia? Why the hell were there witches here in the first place? She kept giving me furtive glances, but they seemed more curious than anything. My nerves were getting to me, and I refused to let it show. Fierce, Rowan, I reminded myself. My magic vibrated, backing me up.

  Keeping my eyes shuttered and my expression neutral, I said, “Look, I get that you have a job to do, keeping this place secure and all that. But I wouldn’t know that you’re a Falcon shifter”—I pointed my thumb to the other girl—“or that she’s a witch if I didn’t belong here.”

  From Marley’s expression, it appeared what I said had been a logical argument. “Nonetheless, I still need to know who or what occupies this building.”

  Marley looked confused, but she shrugged and answered, “T
his is the headquarters for the shifter council presiding over North and South America.”

  That was interesting. I remembered from my childhood that, unlike vampires, fae, and several other supernatural races, witches and shifters didn’t have royalty. They had councils that negotiated with other species and advised the packs or covens. From time to time, problems escalated enough to make it necessary for them to step in.

  The witch’s presence made a little more sense, now. The American witch’s council would want to have emissaries, i.e. spies, there to relay information back to their own council. Witches weren’t known for playing nicely with others, but they’d still want to have a say about what happens in their territory. By forming an alliance of sorts with the shifter council, they could sit back and observe, and speak up only when it benefited them.

  What was tripping me up was the extremely odd coincidence that the ruling bodies were housed in the exact same location—in this realm—as housed E.V.I.E. in the other. Those questions would have to wait, though, there were more important things to deal with than standing there dwelling on whether fate was fucking with me, or there was a connection between the two organizations that I was missing.

  The bright side was that no matter how I found it, I was at the shifter HQ, which meant talking to people who had resources that might aid in my attempt to squash the bug that was Dorian.

  “I want to meet with the head of the organization,” I announced.

  Marley chuckled, making me pierce her with my fiercest glare, which had her flinching appropriately. “I’m sorry, but you can’t just demand a meeting with Nathan King. You don’t have an appointment, and even if he were here—"

  “Ne pizdi,” I accused, seeing right through her lie. She looked at me in confusion and I realized I’d said it in Russian. Nice going, Rowan. Way to stay under the radar. “Bullshit. I know he’s here.”

  Marley sputtered, and I waited for her to regain her composure while glaring in warning that she better not try to lie to me again.