“They’re supers. They don’t have to reward obedience.”
“Rhyse always wants to buy me presents. When it comes down to it, gifts and rewards are kind of the same thing, don’t you think?”
“I guess.” Her fingers pressed into her chest. No, not her chest. What was resting on her chest.
Everything seemed to go silent when Addison realized how little the witches had paid for her life.
“That necklace is new, huh?” The teardrop crystal caught the light. Pretty, but she’d assumed it was plastic, its color and shape unlike any crystal she’d ever seen.
Dawn covered it with her hand.
“I saw it at the Treaty celebration. I thought it was pretty, but not formal enough to match the rest of you that night. Can I see it?”
“No.”
She popped an eyebrow up. “Can I see it?”
“No.”
“If I tell Rhyse I want it, he’ll get it for me. As a seer, you can’t refuse him, and the witches who gave it to you won’t refuse him, either.”
“Don’t tell him, Addison,” she said, close to tears. “Please, don’t tell him.”
“What does it do?” She waited. “I know it holds some kind of magic, so tell me what it does.”
“I’m transitioning.”
“Into what?”
“A witch.”
“You can’t be a witch unless you have it in your blood.” Oh, shit. “When did you find out?”
“Herrick came into the office and knew right away. Because he’s my half brother.”
“Wow, congrats. Family’s important.” Like friendship. “Getting me to go to this thing today was—what?—some kind of hazing ritual to get into the Witch Club?”
“I didn’t know about the Prime.” Why did they think Rhyse would go just because Addison did, anyway? It wasn’t as if the Prime dated a lot. “And I didn’t know what you were until yesterday. I swear.”
“What I am.”
Dawn knew about the dat vitae, which meant that the witches knew as well.
The breath Addison let out was long and depressed. “Let me guess—your brother told you to invite me to the party right after you told him about the werewolf biting me.”
She nodded. “I mentioned it to him only because it was so weird. I wasn’t even sure I actually saw it happen or it was just a head-injury thing. Even Herrick didn’t believe me at first. The coven has records about the ritual twenty years ago, but everyone thought you’d died in the fire, too.”
“What—?” Twenty years ago. Maybe she should have died back then. Maybe she was dying right now. It sure felt like it. As if she’d just been doused with gasoline—her eyes stung, she couldn’t breathe, and any minute she would feel the burn. “The witches made me. Twenty years ago.”
“You must have known.” Dawn looked confused, as if it was common knowledge when a being was created and shoved into a dead body. As if Addison should’ve saved the newspaper clipping. Or the fucking ‘Happy Creation Day’ card.
“They made me,” she repeated, shoving her chair back from the table.
“Shhh!”
Addison was surrounded by humans, drowning in people with normal lives who had never died or been created or been enslaved. “Why did they do it?”
“I don’t know,” Dawn said, still clutching that stupid fucking necklace.
She leaned on the table, glaring at Dawn from just inches away. “Did your brother tell you what I can do? What my power is?”
Dawn shrugged and nodded and shook, as if she’d forgotten everything she’d ever known. But since she’d come here, whatever Herrick told her couldn’t have been that scary.
So Addison filled her friend in on the truth and the not-truth of what she’d gotten herself into. “I could take everything away from you. Everything. You’re looking at a walking, mind-scraping, power-sucking, life-consuming beast. Seriously, I got it all. Do you know how I do it?”
Finally, an actual gesture she could understand—a dramatic shake of the head.
“If you ever see me close my eyes and get really still, run the fuck away.” Only a total exaggeration, but it was scarier than saying ‘You need to ingest my blood.’ Because that wasn’t even a little bit scary. Not to mention that her power might not affect lower beings at all. “Where is this Black Sun thing happening?”
Dawn gave her an address she’d never heard of, probably a field of flowers surrounded by a certain number of trees on the perfect latitude and longitude for mischief.
“What do they want to do to me?”
“Just talk or maybe have you take part in the ritual, I don’t know.”
“Don’t you ever ask questions?” She closed her eyes slowly, pointedly.
“Wait! I’m not a full witch yet so they don’t tell me much, but they gathered supers—one of each race—for some kind of ritual. Since they’ve been planning it for a while and they just found out about you, I think they just want you to hang out.”
“You think they just want me to ‘hang out.’ Wow.” What world was she living in? Certainly not this one. They pooled the races for a shindig on the day the eclipse just happened to take place on the solstice. Just like they probably had twenty years ago…for another dat-vitae-making party.
But with a different child. A different vessel taken over by a being created, not born, who would always feel alone and be in danger. Would they use a boy or a girl this time?
Fuck no. They wouldn’t use either. Addison couldn’t let it happen, whatever it cost her.
“Rhyse is going after them. The whole coven, your brother, you too.” Every word held urgency. Because if Rhyse’s people got there first, no one would be left, maybe not even the child. Not to mention Addison really wanted to talk to Dawn’s brother about what had happened twenty years ago. What and why.
“Why did you tell me?” Dawn asked.
“Because you should run. Make an excuse, plan a vacation somewhere, and cut all ties here.”
“I have nowhere else to go.”
“Find somewhere. Join a coven in another city or don’t, but don’t come back to this one. Because tomorrow, it won’t be here anymore.”
“I need to tell Herrick.”
“And he will need to tell the rest of them. The blade is already falling. You can’t stop it. If you try, you’ll end up just like them. The witches may be way more powerful than seers, but they might as well be dust to the higher races.” Except the dat vitae. And wasn’t that just a mind-fuck of colossal proportions?
“I guess I could—”
“I don’t care. Just go.” She closed her fist around the napkin Dawn had written the address on, and left.
Fifty-three
I can kick a witch’s ass. I can kick a witch’s ass. I can kick a witch’s ass.
Addison was so screwed.
The tremors in her hands made it impossible to dial Rhyse’s number. But damn it, she’d give anything to hear him yell at her. He’d send someone to pick her up and she could explain what happened in person. And in safety. She wouldn’t let him leave until he promised no one would hurt the child. Hopefully by then, this goddamn shaking would’ve stopped.
If the witches wanted her to be there for their ritual, they might send someone more effectual than Dawn, so Addison couldn’t go back to her apartment. She needed to hide somewhere closer to calm down and plan out exactly what to say to Rhyse.
Mom’s. Brilliant, considering she was basically standing in front of it. She’d be safe at her mom’s until Rhyse sent someone for her. Probably. She shoved her phone back into her pocket, glanced around for any creepy witch eyes, and ran through the facility’s front door.
“Addison, good to see you.”
She spun towards the voice before the words made sense. Grace looked as shocked as Addison felt.
“Whoa,” the nurse said. “Is everything okay?”
“Bad day. Sorry.” She relaxed her shoulders. “I’m moving out of the city, so as soon as I find a
new place for my mom, I’ll be checking her out.”
“That’s too bad. We’ll be sad to see her go, but the move is a good thing, right?”
“Yeah.” It wasn’t a lie—not being killed was a good thing. “How is she today?”
“It’s a good day for her. She’s talking more than usual.” Which was code for: she was making a bit more sense than she normally did.
“Great. I’m…” She pointed down the hall and started walking with a quick, over-the-shoulder wave to Grace. Her mom was sitting by the window, staring outside. “Hey, Mom. How are you feeling?” She sat on the bed, trying to appear calm while in full-blown eruption mode.
“Why are you here?” her mom asked without turning.
“I wanted to check in and talk to you about something, but I can’t stay long.” She had to call a vampire and beg him to come rescue her.
“Of course you can’t. Today is the solstice and the Black Sun.”
“You’re right.” This was a good day for her mom. Smiling, Addison scooted across the bed, hanging her legs over the side. “How did you know that?”
“It was the wrong choice.”
“I know.” Addison sighed. Her mom wasn’t trying to hurt her, and it was nothing Addison didn’t deserve, but those five words gave her horrible flashbacks of her mom’s face right after the wipe. “I’m sorry.”
Her mom turned towards her. “You have nothing to feel sorry about—you were a perfect child. Why haven’t they come for you yet?”
The comment probably meant nothing, but it stopped Addison’s breath anyway. “Why haven’t who come for me?”
“The witches, honey.”
On any other day, Addison would’ve said witches didn’t exist, hoping it would somehow repair the damage of the last wipe. But not today. She knelt down. “What do you know about witches?”
“Just what your father told me.”
“He…”
“Was a warlock. Of course, honey. Just as you would’ve been a witch, if you hadn’t died.”
“I’m not dead. I’m right here.”
“I know.” She patted Addison’s head. “Because he got them to bring you back.”
“The angels?” Wishful thinking. Useless wishful thinking.
“No, Addison. The witches.” Her voice was stern. “You need to listen better.”
“Sorry. Why did the witches give me back?”
“They brought you back. But they didn’t want to give you back to us, so your father had to take you from them. But…it was the wrong choice.”
“You chose me? I was the wrong choice?”
“What are you talking about, honey?” She shook her head impatiently, as if everything was obvious, simple, something Addison should be able to follow and understand. But boy, was that not happening. “Your father asked them to heal you. He died, you know.”
“Yeah, I know.” He saved Addison’s life by getting her out of a burning building, but he couldn’t get himself out in time. Dying over a kid who wasn’t really his kid. “What was the choice?”
“How many times do I need to repeat this, Addison?”
Just the one time would work, actually. “Sorry. I just forgot. Can you tell me one more time?”
“You really do need to learn how to listen better,” she said, shaking her head. “When we knew you were going to die, he took you to them.” His life for hers. “But those witches are sneaky. They put someone else in your body.” A look of pain crossed her face. “When he brought you home…”
“What happened when he brought me home?”
“He was hurt trying to get you out. They wanted to keep you, but he wouldn’t let them. He fought for you.” Her hand petted the air as if she were reliving the moment, her husband’s head in her lap. Probably as he died. “He was a good man, your father, but bringing you to them was a mistake. Because I lost both of you. And I’m going to lose you again when they come for you.”
Well, that sure didn’t sound good. “Why would the witches come for me?” As much as she wanted to scream, it would only make her mom shut down or get confused. She kept her voice calm and spoke slowly, trying to keep her questions simple enough to follow.
“Because it’s your time, Addison.”
“What does that mean? My time for what?”
“What you were made for. They’ll come because it’s time for the Rising to begin.” The volume of her voice dropped. “But don’t trust everything they say. They lie.”
“About the Rising? I’m still a little vague as to what exactly it is. How do you know I’m involved?”
“Because it’s your time.”
Addison was beginning to hate that phrase as much as she hated—
“It was the wrong choice.” She looked straight into Addison’s eyes and, for a second, Addison saw who her mom used to be, how beautiful and brave and smart she’d been. Before Addison ruined her.
“He should’ve stayed home with us,” her mom said. “With you and me. But he was so angry at them for what they did to you. He went back to kill them, but he also killed himself. Magic must always be in balance, Addison. Your father forgot that, so he made the wrong choice. He chose to hate them more than he loved us.”
He made the wrong choice. “Dad did?”
“He chose hate instead of love.” The nod of her head turned into a shake. “Don’t ever choose hate over love, honey. It will kill you.”
“I… I won’t.” Addison felt herself weaken. It was the wrong choice—hate over love. Every single time she’d heard the phrase had been another wound, until every part of her body was bloodied by the choice she’d made, by how she screwed up. The screw-up would always be hers, but knowing it wasn’t something her mom thought of every day, multiple times per day, released some of Addison’s pain. She still had a lot of shit to redeem herself for, but at least she’d be trying to do it with less weight on her back.
“Wrong choice.”
“Mom?”
“Wrong.” Unfortunately, while Addison found clarity, her mom disappeared back into wherever she lived most of the time. In a mind filled with bad decisions, regrets, lost love, and monsters. There had to be a way out, and Addison had to find it.
After a few more attempts at getting through, she gave up and kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll be back soon. Okay?”
“It was the wrong choice,” her mom mumbled as Addison left.
At the front desk, Addison asked if there was a room she could rest in, someplace dark because she was getting a migraine. It was true—her head was awfully close to exploding, and that was how a migraine felt, right? The woman took pity on her—probably because she looked so fucking pitiful—and pointed her towards an empty room at the end of the hall.
Without even having to focus, Addison sensed them. Witches with their power all the way turned up. Unless they had family here, her guess was the party invite hadn’t been optional.
She ducked into her mom’s room and spoke quietly. “Hey, Mom, we need to go somewhere now. Just down the hall a little bit.” Their fingers intertwined, Addison led her to the room the nurse had told her about, closing the door and locking it.
“Someone is coming to help us, okay? He’s totally nice even though he looks a little surly in a really handsome way. But don’t be afraid. His name is Rhyse, and I have a lot of confusing feelings about him. But he’s really brave and strong, and he’ll help you because I think he has a lot of confusing feelings about me, too. Okay?”
She cursed when she heard scuffling in the lobby and Grace’s raised voice cut off midsentence. Oh, no.
Witches weren’t normally violent, but evidently they made exceptions during eclipses or solstices or parties or basically anything having to do with Addison. Accident or not, she’d led them here and she was the only one who could lure them away before anyone got hurt. The only way to stop the witches from using her mom and the others as leverage was to volunteer first.
And if a bunch of demons were waiting to grab them rig
ht outside the door, Addison would consider the day successful. So she called Rhyse. It rang. And rang. And rang. And was never answered.
Where was he? If he’d sent someone to pick her up at her apartment, he already knew she wasn’t there, so someone must be out looking for her, while Rhyse stayed busy by freaking out, pacing, and planning how he was going to punish her for her disobedience as soon as the sun went down. So where the hell was he and why wasn’t he picking up his goddamn phone?
Fifty-four
Addison was on her own to save herself, her mom, everyone in the facility, and the poor kid whose body the witches were planning to use. And she’d never felt less competent in her entire life. Great, fucking superpower didn’t do anything but invite more danger until somebody opened a vein.
She turned to her mom. “Stay in here until Rhyse or someone who works here comes for you. Don’t leave with anyone else, okay?” She texted him the location and hoped he knew what a text was. Then she called him one more time, let it go to voicemail, and tucked the phone in her pocket. If things got too weird or awful, she could call Micah with her whole damn heart. Between a vamp and an angel, she’d be fine.
But because she had trust issues, she went through all the drawers and cabinets in the room, looking for a weapon. She picked up the mightiest thing she found—a pen—and a nail sticking out of the drawer scratched a deep groove into her arm.
“Oww, damn it!” She was bleeding. Everywhere.
For once, maybe she could turn her terrible luck into something useful. Instead of whining and putting pressure on the wound like she normally would have done, she asked her mom to take the pen apart while she turned her back and used the nail to expand the scrape into something that would really bleed without being dangerous. She’d worry about tetanus later.
“Thanks.” Addison took the pen back and used it as a receptacle for her blood, closing it on both ends. There wasn’t very much, but Rhyse only had a few drops and look what had happened to him. She tucked the pen into her bra, hoping she never had to see if it worked or not.
If she went willingly, maybe the witches wouldn’t hurt anyone...else. Because, of course, witches were sneaky and could have every intention of hurting the token dat vitae.
Unseen (The Heights, Vol. 1) Page 27