I’d expected a Medieval dungeon, but this floor had the same industrial feel as the main factory. With white-painted cinderblock walls, plain gray flooring, and fluorescent lights humming overhead, we could be in any hospital basement anywhere.
“It has all the charm of a morgue,” I said. “Or prison, maybe?”
“Because it is both those things.” Ronan grabbed me abruptly and pulled me into an alcove, his hand over my mouth.
Footsteps.
He held me tightly as someone walked past, the click-click of their shoes echoing along the cold, empty hall.
And it felt so good to have him clutching me like that, I forgot to be nervous.
He let go, and it took me a second to catch my breath. He must’ve spied some look on my face, because he leaned down and landed a quick kiss on my cheek. “You make this difficult. But I need you to concentrate. Then we will have all the time in the world for me to put that look on your face.”
I felt a blush flame from my forehead to my toes. But I nodded. He was right.
Concentrate.
“There’s a small infirmary through the double doors at the end of this corridor,” he continued. “They’re holding your mother there.”
“In an infirmary?”
“They’re keeping her alive, but don’t misunderstand. Their intention isn’t for her to get better. She’s a permanent feeder. The good news is, she’s too valuable for them to let her die. She’s weak, but she’ll be in decent trim.”
“That’s…” Tears sprang to my eyes. That existence was no existence at all. Thinking of my mother in there, thinking that was what the Synod had wanted for me…it was unimaginable. Horrifying. “We have to help her.”
“We will,” he said fiercely. “We are. We must be quick, though. There aren’t many places to hide on this level. When we step out, we sprint to the end of the hall. Quietly and quickly, aye? Quiet and quick gets us out alive.”
“Got it,” I told him, my voice tight. And it was true, as long as I had him, I had this.
He poked his head out to make sure it was clear, then we were out like a shot. Through the double doors.
We found ourselves in what looked like a small hospital ward. There were several closed doors and not a guard in sight. I tugged Ronan’s arm, and he leaned down for me to whisper in his ear. “Where is everyone?”
He whispered in mine, “You must’ve caused quite the stir.” But I’d melted a little at the feel of his warm breath on my skin, and he pulled back to demand, “This is you concentrating?”
“Sorry, sorry. Go on.”
“If the others have discovered Jacob and the Synod are dead, they’d have called all the guards to the upper floors.”
“You picked some badass Acari for your team.”
“The best,” he said proudly.
He cared for those girls, I realized. It was clear. It’d been clear in the way he’d helped me when I’d first arrived. How he’d helped others, as he could.
We began peeking in rooms, and the sight that met me behind each closed door chilled me. There were women of all ages, incapacitated. Hooked to IVs. Barely conscious. “Can’t we do something?”
“We can’t save them all, Ann.”
We tiptoed past what looked like an abandoned nurse’s station, and I froze.
“What are you doing?” he mouthed.
My legs folded under me. I’d heard a voice I recognized. A voice I knew so very well.
Carden was here. He was talking to someone.
Ronan knelt and grabbed me, tucking us both under a desk.
I wanted to get to my mother, but I also wanted to eavesdrop, to hear what he was doing here. See if I could glimpse the true Carden.
There was a woman’s voice.
“Freya,” Ronan mouthed.
I leaned to whisper in his ear. “What are they doing here?”
He shrugged, before putting his mouth to my own ear. “Maybe he’s trying to save your mother? Save you? Who knows with McCloud?”
“There were all kinds of ways he could’ve saved me about thirty minutes ago,” I grumbled. “I’d have appreciated that more.”
He pulled back and put a calming hand on my forearm. “Just listen,” he mouthed, but I’d seen triumph flicker in his eyes. Carden wasn’t with me, but he was, and apparently, it was where he’d wanted to be all along.
Freya’s voice rose in anger, carrying clearly down the empty hall. “I will continue to rule Eilean Ban-Laoch and you will take the Isle.”
“What of Alcántara?” Carden asked.
“The Spaniard is like a dog with a bone, clinging to the past. He is stubborn, self-important, and ill-behaved. He tries to play both sides, as when he refused to relinquish Annelise. I say let him be with his books. He’ll be only too happy to let you take control publicly so that he might remain sequestered among his papers, thinking he is controlling things from the shadows.”
“Me control the Isle?”
“Yes, you, Carden. You could be the face of Eyja næturinnar. Yours is a strong face, a new face.”
I heard it in his voice—Carden wanted to rule. What had he thought this would mean for me?
As for Alcántara…that was a surprise. Was he truly more interested in books than anything else? Ironically, it probably meant that, all this time, he’d been interested in me for my mind after all.
It didn’t matter to me either way. I had zero desire to see the Spanish vampire ever again.
As for Carden, I had to look at his face one last time. I wanted to know what I might see there.
I crawled from our hiding spot. Stood up.
And Ronan was right beside me. He’d clearly read my mind, because he grumbled, “Must we?”
“We must.” I followed the sound of Carden’s voice. It led to a nursing office, where he stood speaking with Freya and Lilac. I took in the scene, feeling confused. Had he always been this close with Freya? With Lilac? I raised my voice to carry, saying, “This seems cozy.”
I’d taken them by surprise, and it gave me a perverse pleasure.
“There you are, my dove.” Carden looked genuinely happy to see me.
It made me feel a bit more at ease, and I realized how nervous I’d been to face him. As if Carden might not be on my side after all. But still, as Carden took a step toward me, I took a step back.
“What are you doing in here?” I asked warily.
“I came to bargain for your mother.”
Lilac sat on the edge of a desk, swinging her legs. “We were invited to partake in the special refreshments. Jacob was so flattered by our offering.”
Carden shot a look at Freya. “Keep that girl quiet.”
Ronan eyed them one by one, then said to Carden, “It’s reassuring to see how you were doing all you could to save Annelise.”
“This is saving Annelise, pup.”
Ronan nodded, but he didn’t look convinced. “Mmhmm.”
Carden looked from Ronan to me and back again. “The real question is, what is going on here?”
“We’re going to save her mother. And then we’re just going.”
Carden’s focus turned to me. “You’re going?” I didn’t know what he saw, but his eyes went flat. “I see.” He tipped his head. “You say you will go. And yet, you know I cannot.”
Freya tsked at me. “Silly girl. Surely you understand the implications of what has been set in motion here. For the first time in centuries, the end of infighting is in sight. Balance is almost restored. You’d be a fool to leave him. To leave your sister,” she said with a glance to Lilac. “You could claim your place on either island. If it weren’t for Carden, who seems to believe he’s your protector, I’d make you claim your place.”
“My place is far from your islands,” I told her. I wasn’t even in the mood to address the whole Lilac thing. As it was, I was bummed to have to leave here with her still standing.
My gaze returned to Carden. I was nursing some hurt feelings, which was absurd. Prot
ector or not, I was leaving him. I’d chosen Ronan. Why should I care if he wanted to make his permanent home on the Isle of Night? But I couldn’t resist saying, “I didn’t realize you liked the Isle so much.”
“It is my destiny to rule Eyja næturinnar,” he said in complete earnest.
“Have fun with that.”
Carden’s voice grew firm. “There are those on the Isle who are good.”
“Yeah? Name three.”
“I will find more good there, Annelise. I’ve been given much in this world. I must give back. It’s who I am.” He gestured to the ward outside the door. “I must fight against atrocities like this.”
My heart lightened a shade. “You’ll save these women?”
He tipped his head gravely. “As I can.”
Such a Carden response.
I went from feeling melancholy to simple exhaustion. “Well, try.”
“Stay with me,” Carden rasped, his tone gone urgent. “I’ll make you my queen.”
“I’ve never been one for titles,” I said, stupidly trying to joke it off, but completely nonsensically, I began to choke up. “I…I’m with Ronan. I think I’ve always had feelings for him.” Carden’s face began to shutter and I pitched my voice with every bit of earnestness that I could. “I’m sorry. I think you and I both knew. But it doesn’t mean I didn’t care for you. You meant so much to me—you still do. You got me through. For a while, you were my everything.”
“But no longer?”
“It’s not who I am, Carden. That’s not the person I want to be.”
He put a finger on my lips. “Enough. I understand. As you must understand, this is my life. I am Vampire. And you, my dearest, are not.”
He was being gracious and kind, and it reminded me why I’d adored him so. “I wish you all the best, Carden. Do some good on the Isle. No more Directorate Challenges, okay? But you belong with your kind. And so does this.” I leaned down and pulled the misericordia from my boot, placing it in his hands. At the sound of Freya’s gasp, I wrapped his fingers tightly around the hilt. “You’re the only vampire I’d ever trust with this thing. But I want you to have it.”
His eyes widened, full of emotion, then met mine. “Always you surprise, love.” He carefully touched the misericordia to his heart then his forehead with a bow. “And always I will be here for you.”
Freya smirked. “Always is a long time for a vampire.”
But Carden didn’t take the bait. “We Scots have steadfast hearts,” he told me solemnly. “You must go now. It won’t be long before the guards return. The time has come for my dove to fly.” He pulled me into a hug. In it, was warmth and affection…and goodbye. “Go get your Birgit.”.
“That is not what we discussed,” Freya snapped.
Carden seemed to expand before my eyes. “There will be no discussion,” he snarled. “As Eyja næturinnar’s new leader, I decree it. None will be kept against their will any longer.”
Freya bristled at his adamance. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
Carden ignored her and took my hand, giving it one last squeeze. “Last door on the left. We’ll guard the corridor.”
“We will?” I heard Lilac complain, but Ronan and I were already on our way.
“You okay?” Ronan asked as we stood outside my mother’s room.
I nodded. “I kind of am, actually.”
He tipped his head toward her door. “Nervous?”
“Yeah.” I gave a tight laugh. “Weirdly so. What if she doesn’t like me?”
He took my shoulders and turned me to face him. “You’ve faced horrors of the sort most people can’t conceive. You’ve fought enemies of every stripe—Acari, Trainee, Draug, Vampire—and triumphed. You’ve helped change the face of the Isle.” He placed his palm on the hospital room door. “But this? This is a woman who left you only against her will. A woman who loves you.”
“I don’t have a lot of experience with that,” I said, voice cracking.
“You’re a quick study,” Ronan said gently. His eyes were soft and loving on me. “Don’t be afraid, Ann. I’m right here.”
“I know.” I reached for his hand. “I get that now.”
His other hand went to the door. “It’s time to meet your mother.”
EPILOGUE
During his years of travel as a Tracer, Ronan built up an extensive list of contacts. Powerful ones, who know the value of powerful friends. With their help, we made our way to an island. A very different kind of island.
A tropical one.
Ronan assures me we’ll be safe here. Vampires despise sunlight, and there’s plenty of sunlight in the French Caribbean. There’s sun shining down, rays of light glittering along the water, and a beautiful, white glare beating up at us from the sandy soil. No sensible vampire would dare step foot on any of these islands.
Even if one did, they’d have a hard time tracking us down. Ronan tells me that, through the years, several Acari and Tracers have made safe escapes to this very part of the world.
Including the feeders on Melkøya. Carden, in Carden fashion, was as good as his word, and he freed every last woman. He found and helped my friends, too, and all but Guidon Mala made it alive off that grim rock. The rest were offered their freedom, and most took it. Except for Monique and Clara, who returned to the Isle of Night. There’s no figuring some people, I guess. But the rest—Juliet, Regina, and Kenzie—they’re out there somewhere. Maybe not even far from us.
Not that we’d ever be able to find them.
But I’m not feeling short on friends or life. It’s warm and easygoing here, and Ronan and I spend time beach combing or cooking or wandering the Saturday market. We read a lot, and yes, we do the crossword every day.
He’s squirreled away money through the years. Not so much that we can live large, but it’s enough that we never return from the market without him buying me some trinket—a blue beaded necklace, red scarf, golden bangles—with no gray, black, or navy in sight. Our latest find was a purple and orange sarong with small, shining metal disks sewn on the ends. I wear it tied it around my waist, where it shimmers and flows against my tanned legs.
My mother is with us, but she spends her days on the water. She likes to set sail, often for weeks at a time. But she always comes back to us. She says she will always come back.
She laughs the most wonderful belly laughs when I tell her my stories of water, about my old phobias—it all seems so distant now. Her laugh makes me laugh, too. It makes it all okay.
There’s a university on the other side of the island, and I’ve been thinking of starting classes this fall. No more Germanic languages for me, though. And math has definitely lost its charms. I was thinking something scientific. I watch research boats take off from the docks, and think maybe it’s just cold water that scares me. I want to be productive, somewhere sunny and open, near to those creatures who swim free.
Ronan assures me matriculation won’t be a problem this time, though I jokingly tell him he’s not allowed within twenty feet of their registrar’s office. I am losing the surname Drew, though. That was the name of the man whose Florida apartment I lived in—an abusive man, not my father.
Ronan wants me to take his name. Munro. It means mountain, which strikes me as fitting. It’s a good name, an old name. But I’m making him wait for my answer.
As for Carden, I was sad to say goodbye. But he has his cause and his goals, and they have nothing to do with me and everything to do with a world I was desperate to leave far behind.
A world I have left far behind.
I have a new world, and it’s headed my way right now.
Ronan.
He raises his knees high, stepping out of the surf, his board in hand. And let me say: I do not miss that wetsuit one bit. Water glistens over his body and weighs down his low-slung board shorts. He’s brown from the sun, with a bit of extra red just along the bridge of his nose. He whips the wet hair from his forehead and gives me a questioning grin. “What are yo
u cooking in that brilliant mind of yours?”
It takes me a second to answer. What was I thinking? That I never knew I could be so happy?
Finally, I tell him, “I’m thinking your tattoo is all wrong.”
He gives me a quick, baffled look, then studies his arm and the Proust quote he’d inked along his bicep. Le seul paradis c’est le paradis perdu.
The flex and shift of his body never ceases to mesmerize me. He catches my eye and the naughty glint in his tells me he’s read my mind. “What is it, Ann?” he asks innocently. “Lost your taste for French novels, or is it me that’s troubling you?”
I give him my best saucy smile. “You may be trouble, Ronan, but you never trouble me.” Then I reread the words on his arm, wanting to get my thoughts just right. The only paradise is paradise lost.
“No,” I say as I gaze up at him. “It’s that…my only paradise is right here.”
His cheek twitches with some strong emotion, and my heart swells to see such affection, such affinity.
I’m his. He’s mine. It makes us vulnerable, but we’re safe with each other in our new world.
He lays his surfboard in the sand and reaches a hand down to me. “Come, love,” he whispers.
I take his hand and lean into him, digging my feet into the warm, powdery sand. We begin a leisurely walk.
Into our new life.
# # #
Read on for an excerpt from the first book in the Watchers series by Veronica Wolff.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
With special thanks to the following people:
Martha White, treasured friend, secret weapon, and the person most likely to be called in the event of my incarceration. And to the rest of our beloved YA posse: Ingrid Paulson, Whitney Miller, and Heidi Kling.
Professional me wants to thank Jeannie Ruesch, creator of gorgeous covers, at The Theater of Marketing. Danielle Poiesz and her copyediting talents at Double Vision Editorial. And the fabulous Lisa Rogers, who seems blessedly undaunted by my panicked emails.
Thanks to my primary cheering section, alpha readers, and chief brainstormers, Mom, Clara, Owen, Joey, Sue, and Adam. Especially Adam. Always, Adam.
Reckoning (The Watchers Book 5) Page 19