by Laura Hall
“Wake up, dear.”
My first thought, upon hearing my mother’s voice, was that I should be surprised but wasn’t. My second thought was to wonder if surprise was a finite resource that, once used up, ceased to be an available emotion.
I opened my eyes and looked around.
I was in a small white room on a military-style cot with a wooden frame. Instead of handcuffs, thick rope secured my wrists on either side. My ankles were likewise tied together.
“Overkill much?” I rasped.
Delilah, leaning against the wall to my right, merely smiled. “I must say, that was an extraordinary display. You’re unbelievably powerful, Fiona. I couldn’t be prouder.”
I stared at my mother, present in the flesh for the first time since she’d left me at two months old. We did look a lot alike, sharing the same general shape of features and body types, though I was narrower and sharper all around. Now that I wasn’t in denial, I was actually glad for my Fae blood. It distinguished me from her.
Our eyes, though, were what really gave us away as related. Mother and daughter, or sisters given the minimal wrinkles on her face. Despite the difference in colors, our eyes were distinctively similar, from shape, to lash length, to the curve and thickness of our eyebrows.
I hate you seemed a little redundant, so I settled for, “Liberati, huh? I knew you were a sadistic bitch, but I wasn’t aware you were a cipher.”
Something flashed in her eyes; if I didn’t believe her incapable, I’d say it was hurt. “Not a cipher, but not a vampire, shifter, or mage. Like you, I’m an anomaly.”
“We’re nothing alike,” I ground out.
She sighed. “You’re right. And I’m glad for it. I would not want you to suffer as I have suffered.” When I just glared at her, unwilling to play the game, she continued in a harder voice, “Were you not so naïve, so self-centered, you might have seen the truth. That every choice you’ve made in the last two weeks has been part of a larger plan. A plan set into motion more than twenty-five years ago.”
Twenty-five years.
I’d been seventeen, finishing my senior year of high school and dreaming of Berkeley and boys. At the same time, my mother had been stalking an ancient vampire in Seattle.
“Connor,” I whispered.
She smiled again, but it was thin and insincere. “He played his part beautifully, did he not? For a being as old as he, he was so easily manipulated. And you, Fiona . . . you were perfect. I planted the seed, removed Gabriella from his life, and waited. It’s the most basic magic. Pure alchemy, to write the future in the present. He loves you, has since he first saw you, I think.”
Logic told me there was a high probability she was lying, but my damned heart didn’t want to listen, thumping wildly at the prospect. Nevertheless, something in her tone registered on a dark, slithery scale.
“When was that? My Census?”
“Oh, no. This was a decade before Ascension. You were eighteen. I convinced Connor to come to San Francisco and leave Gabriella behind. We followed you to a nightclub and watched you dance with your friends until closing time. You were so innocent, and still a virgin, no?”
At my carefully blank expression, she smiled and continued, “Connor was livid when he realized your paternity. I never did find out why, but he loathes the Fae. Perhaps they are forbidden fruit.” She waved a hand dismissively. “Whatever the cause, he was powerless to resist you. It was the first time I spoke to him of your future. Just a hint of your potential to whet his appetite. The rest, as I’m sure you know, I didn’t reveal until years later. By then, his obsession with you was rooted deep.”
“You’re sick,” I mumbled. “You lied to him. About Gabriella, about all of it.”
“The prophecy wasn’t a lie,” she said implacably. “You brought his love back and have been, just as I predicted, the catalyst of his downfall.”
The Venetian flashed in my mind—the CASE conference. Connor . . .
I heaved against my bindings. “What did you do!”
Oh my God, all those people.
Adam. Declan.
I screamed and thrashed until my skin broke and the ropes grew slick with blood. Finally, defeated and heaving for air, I collapsed.
“Why? Why do you hate him so much?”
“I don’t hate Connor Thorne,” said Delilah softly. “And believe me, it was never my intention to cause you pain. The Prime’s demise was a means to an end. He was far too powerful an enemy to ignore.”
No.
She had to be lying. He couldn’t be dead. He was, as she said, too powerful.
“He’s not dead,” I said, but it sounded desperate even to my ears.
Delilah stepped away from the wall and walked to the door. Her hand shook as she reached for the knob. “I didn’t foresee—” She gave herself a small shake. “He was not for you. Rest now. We’ll talk later.”
The door opened and closed.
Connor.
I sobbed. Then I screamed and screamed, until something tore in my throat and my cries turned hoarse, then silent.
I lost all sense of time in the windowless white room. My Sight was gone, my charge so low I could barely feel it, likely due to whatever drugs had been pumped into me. When, minutes or hours later, the door opened again, I didn’t bother opening my eyes.
“Hello?” asked a timid voice. “I’ve brought you water.”
“Go away,” I croaked.
Light footsteps rounded the cot and a sweet perfume tickled my nose. I opened my eyes a crack as a lovely, sable-haired woman knelt beside me. Everything about her was small and softly feminine. Her mouth was a perfect rosebud, her eyes caramel brown and utterly devoid of personality.
“I’ve brought you water,” she repeated, lifting an arm mechanically to display a plastic cup. I frowned at her. She smiled. An insincere doll’s smile that revealed petite fangs.
Turns out I was still capable of surprise.
Her vampiric aura was almost nonexistent; I’d mistaken her for a cipher. For close to a minute, we stared at each other, her unblinking and frozen and me with mounting horror. Small scars decorated the visible skin of her neck and arms. Precise cuts, an inch long and evenly spaced.
“Gabriella?” I asked, my voice cracking from abuse.
She didn’t blink. “I’ve brought you water.”
“Gabriella,” said Delilah sharply from the doorway. “This is the wrong room.”
The vampire rose and turned slowly. “I’m sorry,” she said politely, and glided past my mother.
“What have you done to her?” I rasped.
Delilah stepped inside and closed the door. “Gabriella’s mind broke the first time ether was extracted from her. We expected her to die, but her sire’s unique blood sustained her. She requires very little blood, and so lives. There’s an attachment between her and my colleague James. A master and pet relationship, if you will.”
“You’re monsters,” I snarled.
“War makes monsters of us all,” she countered smoothly.
I cried out in wordless rage. “You’re fucking crazy! There is no war!”
She blinked slowly, as though shocked by my stupidity. “You of all people should understand, Fiona. Since Ascension, our government has become a bloodthirsty, anti-democratic war machine. They’ve made a business of tramping on the civil rights and liberties of the common man. It’s time for the human race to fight back and reclaim power from supernaturals.”
I managed to keep my mouth shut, already regretting engaging her. Allowing my head to fall back, I stared at the light fixture on the ceiling.
“You know what, Mom? I don’t give a shit.”
Gabriella was alive. Alive. Connor’s mate was alive.
And Delilah was a schemer and user of the highest degree. I couldn’t trust one word out of her mouth. Connor’s feelings for me, his reaction upon seeing me the first time . . . He’d told me himself, several times, that he was using me for one end.
Gabriella�
��s return.
My stomach churned with nausea. I took slow, even breaths until it subsided, then looked at Delilah. The truth of what I felt for her no longer seemed redundant.
“I hate you,” I told her, evenly and softly.
“I know,” she said, just as softly, then pulled a cell phone from her back pocket. “I thought you might want to hear this, since you didn’t believe me earlier.”
She touched the screen and a newscaster’s voice cut through the room.
. . . confirmed by our local affiliate that the CASE convention in Las Vegas was the target of an attack yesterday evening. At approximately 8:25 p.m. in the Venetian’s Grand Ballroom, several explosions occurred. We are as yet uncertain of the origins of the explosions, and no terrorist organization has taken credit. The death toll is currently thirty-seven and climbing.
Western Omega Adam Gibbs and Alpha Declan Thomas are both in critical condition. There has been no sign of Prime Thorne, but eyewitnesses tell a grim story. The Prime was overwhelmed by a secondary explosion when he returned to the ballroom to transport additional CASE members to safety.
The Southern Prime and his triumvirate were expected to be in attendance, but were late in arriving. Tonight, Prime Kilpatrick will lead a prayer vigil for survivors and their families—”
“Turn it off! Now!”
The voice cut off.
Eyes burning with unshed tears, I whispered, “What do you want from me?”
“What I want . . .” She shook her head, sending ebony locks cascading over her shoulder. “What I need is your cooperation. I need you to fill reservoirs with your lightning. You would be saving the lives of many, as we would no longer need to extract ether from the blood of so many supernaturals.”
I had that itchy feeling that comes when you’re talking to a crazy person. Knowing it was pointless, I still felt compelled to state the obvious, “You’re a goddamn supernatural. How did you convince the Liberati otherwise?”
She sighed. “There’s so much you don’t know, that I don’t have time to explain. If you cooperate, I’ll release your father.”
Check mate.
She knew it, I knew it.
“And Ethan,” I said.
She nodded. “Done.”
Fifteen
As soon as I appeared in the main warehouse, wrists still bound and a gun pointed at the back of my head, Ethan began yelling my name. I didn’t look at him. Couldn’t. Delilah had won, but I’d won his life and my dad’s life. It would have to be enough.
“I want proof,” I told the viper walking next to me. “I want to know they’re free.”
“Fill two reservoirs for me first.”
“One.”
“Agreed,” she said with a small smile.
I gazed ahead at our destination, a raised platform surrounded by thick metal drums, ribbed tubing extending from their lids. The tubing ran around the back of the platform, disappearing behind a sturdy, innocuous wooden chair.
A handful of hard-eyed men and women occupied the platform and surrounding areas. There was a control booth of sorts—stacked electronics and glowing screens—set up adjacent to the platform. A man in a white lab coat bent over a keyboard, fingers typing furiously.
“Do your buddies know you got down and dirty with a Fae?” I asked, none too softly.
Delilah just smiled. “They know a Fae raped me, yes.”
I stopped, wincing as the gun’s barrel grazed the back of my head. “You’re lying.”
Her clear blue eyes met mine. “Am I?” she asked.
“FIONA!” roared Ethan. “NO!”
At his yell, déjà vu flowed over me. This was my dream, almost exactly. Only one element was missing.
I turned away from Delilah and immediately saw the grizzly bear, more than a thousand pounds of muscle and fat, covered with gray-speckled brown fur. Head bowed, he lumbered forward between six Liberati. The foremost men held rigid poles, the ends attached to a thick collar around the bear’s neck. The other four carried cattle prods.
Tears filled my eyes. “Dad,” I breathed.
The massive head lifted, dark eyes focusing on me. He roared—an earsplitting sound of abject rage—and reared up to his hind legs, sending the Liberati stumbling back. The two holding the poles made the mistake of hanging on, and were swept aside by giant, claw-tipped paws. Blood flew. Bodies dropped.
“Frank!” yelled my mother.
Cool metal met my temple, courtesy of the thug I now referred to as Wax Face. “One more move and she dies,” he said.
My dad dropped to all fours, the impact felt even twenty feet away. I screamed, “They’re bluff—” and the butt of the gun slammed into my temple. My knees hit concrete, followed by my hands.
I shook my head roughly, trying to make the world stop spinning. It was a perfect time for my charge to rise, but it didn’t—hadn’t even surged with contact from the gun.
“Fiona! Fiona, are you all right?” I blinked dazedly at Ethan, who pressed as close as he dared to the bars on his cage. “You’re bleeding.” His angry eyes lifted to my mother. “You promised me no harm would come to her!”
Huh?
I stared at him, then looked at my mother, who watched me with one brow raised, as if to say, See? No one can be trusted.
I pushed off the ground but promptly fell on my ass. Two blows to the head had taken their toll. My heartbeat, though, was surprisingly steady. Probably shock. Or the drugs.
I met Ethan’s tortured gaze. “What did you get out of the deal?” I asked.
He immediately began shaking his head. “No. It’s not what you think. I swear, Fiona. I’m not Liberati.”
My mother murmured, “Do you remember what he told you, before giving you the potion that brought on your Sight? Perhaps the only true words he’s spoken were in answer to your question.”
I breathed, “I asked what he wanted. He said knowledge and power.”
Ethan gave a wordless cry. “Don’t listen to her! I should have explained, but there wasn’t any time. Please believe me, I would never betray you!”
His words pinged off my shell of ambivalence. My quota of crazy had officially been surpassed—there simply wasn’t room for anything else. No more feelings. No more pain. I was empty, numb. Defeated, just like my mother wanted me.
I wondered aimlessly how Lucian would feel when I didn’t keep my end of the bargain. I kind of liked the idea of disappointing him, and the White Queen.
Slowly, I gained my feet and turned to my mother. “New deal. Keep Ethan but let Dad go. Now. He’ll shift and walk out of here and no one will stop him. We’re in the middle of nowhere, aren’t we?” She gave a small nod. “He won’t find a phone for hours. More than enough time to fill the reservoirs, correct?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Then do it.”
The last thing I expected to see on my mother’s face was pride; still, it didn’t breach me. She could take her pride to a shallow grave.
Delilah nodded at the three Liberati still surrounding my dad. “Let him go. Frank, you heard Fiona. If you try anything, she dies. Then you die. Understood?”
The grizzly whined, a horribly destitute sound coming from such a noble animal. I closed my eyes tightly and counted my heartbeats.
One. Two. Three.
A pulse of shifter energy hit me and I opened my eyes. My dad knelt on the cold concrete, naked and shaking, and twenty pounds lighter than when I’d last seen him. I turned away before he could lift his head, before he could see me or try to stop me.
“Get him clothes.”
Delilah nodded to someone. I heard shuffling movement. “Fiona,” croaked my father. “No.”
“Get him out of here,” I told my mother. “You, personally. You’re going to protect him with your life, do you hear me? You owe me that.”
Her facade cracked, just a little, and I saw a layer of my mother I didn’t want to see. Tired. Jaded. Remorseful.
An angry voice hissed, “Delilah, yo
u can’t be considering—”
She lifted her hand, cutting off Bald Guy. “Don’t you dare question me, James,” she said, loud and sharp, and the Liberati all froze in their various tasks. “Sparing Frank Sullivan’s life won’t cost us anything. We’ll be long gone by the time he reaches civilization. Get Fiona in the chair and start the machine.”
Wax Face and Bald Guy—no, James—grabbed me under the arms and hauled me toward the platform. I didn’t fight, but nor did I help, letting my legs drag over concrete. Instead, I watched Delilah lead my dad away. He was limping horribly, moving as fast as he could. Likely hoping against hope that he could reach a phone in time to save me.
I love you, Dad.
“Fiona!” yelled Ethan.
I closed my eyes and felt myself being lifted. Unyielding wood met my back and legs. My forearms were buckled down, then my ankles, and finally thick straps tightened over my thighs. Hands adjusted my fingers roughly around cool metal rods, then more straps were applied to hold my grip in place.
An unfamiliar voice said, “Move aside, gentlemen. I must administer the shot to dissolve the effects of the previous.”
Ah, cue the mad scientist.
My chest convulsed, then again, until I couldn’t contain a low chuckle. I opened my eyes and looked at the man leaning over me, his expression perplexed and wary. He looked like Everyman, with nondescript brown hair and rounded, pleasant features. He didn’t match my nightmare mad scientist at all.
I fell prey to another round of giggles.
James snapped, “Everyone in place, now! Ready the drums for transport. Get the Elemental’s cage on board the truck! Move! Let’s go, let’s go!”
People scattered, until it was just the scientist left on the platform. He shared a nod with a Liberati woman stationed at the bank of computers, and the chair beneath me began to hum.
“The extraction of your ether will be unpleasant but also bloodless, which is very exciting. Don’t worry, the process won’t kill you.”
He swiped my bicep with an alcohol swab, then stabbed me with a syringe and depressed the plunger. While I waited for something to happen, he took a few steps back and lifted his wrist. His sleeve fell to reveal a black watch with a white face.