“And I have been dancing the Waltz for hundreds of years,” Sinjin said flatly. Before Herr Strauss could argue further, Sinjin was suddenly gliding across the floor and I was moving with him. His feet swayed so lightly and gracefully, I had to glance down to ensure we were still touching the ground.
“Never take your eyes from your partner, poppet,” he whispered and I brought my eyes back to his ice-blue ones. “Your gaze must never leave mine. All you need to do is follow the lines of my body, allow me to lead you.”
I just nodded and smiled up at him, finding huge relief in Sinjin’s arms after my disastrous experiences with Herr Strauss. Just the idea of touching the praying mantis had been enough to turn me off dancing for the rest of my life.
“This is a very simple dance, really,” Sinjin continued. “I begin with my left foot and I execute a forward half box.” He completed the half box. Then he stepped backward and did the same thing. “The next step is the same, only in reverse. And you, my very lovely poppet, begin with your right foot and execute a backward half box, followed by a forward half box.”
“You lost me at box,” I said with a smile.
Sinjin chuckled and pulled me in closer, until I could feel the swells of his thighs as they shifted against me. I’d never realized how … sensual dancing could be—how feeling the motion of a man’s, of Sinjin’s, body against mine could be such an … erotic experience.
I heard Herr Strauss mutter something angrily before stomping out of the room. After dancing with Sinjin, and feeling the expert way he whisked me across the floor, the idea of dancing with the stick insect was … unappealing to say the least.
“Just follow my lead, love,” Sinjin said as I obediently stared into his eyes, forcing myself not to second-guess my own feet. Strangely enough, they seemed to be doing a good job on their own.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you vampired me into knowing how to dance,” I said with an elevated brow, wondering if I hadn’t succumbed to some form of vampiric persuasion.
Sinjin didn’t respond but just smiled in an amused sort of way as he twirled me around the room so deftly, I didn’t even feel like it was me dancing with him. It was almost as if I’d had an out-of-body experience, and was watching a woman who looked like me—someone with long blond hair, blue eyes, and freckles across the bridge of her nose. But no, it was most definitely me, and I’d basically just mastered the waltz with Sinjin’s help. Feeling suddenly courageous, I decided to tread into dangerous territory.
“Sinjin?”
“Yes, my love?” he asked.
“Why have you always been so interested in the prophetess?” I asked with a sweet, innocent smile, as if I were merely curious and not burning with the need to know. “What do you have up your sleeve?”
He chuckled but didn’t lose a beat. Instead he twirled me in front of him and then pulled me back into the cocoon of his body. I almost lost my breath as I bounced against him and found myself so close I could feel the silkiness of his shirt against my cheek and his breath on the top of my head. Somehow I didn’t think we were dancing the waltz any longer. No, this felt more like the “forbidden dance,” whatever that was. I felt my heartbeat increase as blood rushed to my head.
“Interested, my pet?” Sinjin asked as he leaned into me, inhaling deeply, and smiled to reveal his fangs. “I make you nervous.”
I shook my head but I realized it was stupid to argue the point. He did make me nervous. I never knew what he was thinking, or what his intentions were. And he had a tendency to want to … touch me all the time.
“You’re a vampire and I’m full of blood,” I answered dismissively.
“That is not why I make you nervous.”
“Let’s talk instead about your fascination with the prophetess,” I said, pulling away from him, giving my feet a well-deserved rest and hoping some air might clear my head. I took another two steps back.
“I have no fascination with the prophetess,” Sinjin said and shrugged as if to reinforce his response as casual, unconcerned. “I believe the only person you could accuse me of having a fascination with would be you, poppet.”
I laughed and shook my head. “Only because I’ve got a crown over my head.”
Sinjin wetted his lips and narrowed his eyes as I felt my heart drop again. It was the expression of someone who was about to pounce on his prey, about to take whatever it was he wanted.
“Not quite, my love. You know I have sought you from the beginning.” He paused for a second and then took the two steps that separated us. “Yes, from the very first moment you sauntered into my life, dressed in your little tutu”—I’d gone to a costume party dressed as a fairy—“my interest in any other females was forever quelled.”
“Why do I find that hard to believe?” I asked, eyeing him suspiciously, propping my hands on my hips. Sinjin’s libido was quelled? Yeah … No. Sinjin was the most sexual creature I’d ever met—he even rivaled Christa, and that’s saying something.
“I do not know, love,” Sinjin said as a secretive smile spread across his lips. “Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight. For I never saw true beauty until this night.” He ran his fingers down my cheek and chin and smiled again. His fangs were noticeably longer, and I’m sure I was just imagining it but they also looked sharper.
“Nice, Romeo,” I said with a hesitant smile although I had to admit there was something … romantic about an incredibly handsome man quoting lines from Romeo and Juliet. But romantic or not, I had to ponder why Sinjin appeared to have such an … attachment to me. Of course, whether or not that perceived attachment was legitimate was anyone’s guess. Regardless, I wasn’t the type to lead him on.
“Sinjin,” I began in a serious tone. “I hope this is all a big joke to you because you know we can never be anything other than friends …”
“Shh, love,” he interrupted, bringing his fingers to my lips. “I know you imagine yourself to be enamored of the warlock.”
I didn’t respond because I wasn’t entirely sure what to say. “Enamored of the warlock” didn’t really even begin to describe my feelings for Rand. Then it suddenly occurred to me that maybe I should tell Sinjin I’d bonded with Rand in 1878—maybe then he would understand how deep my love for Rand really was. As soon as the thought sprang into my head, I rejected it. Somehow word would get out. Rand needed to hear about our bonding from me firsthand, not from the vampvine.
Sinjin dropped his fingers but not the soul-searching gaze in his eyes. “I am well aware of the rules of this game, poppet,” he whispered. “Therefore, let us have just one more dance.”
And so I did. I abandoned my hang-ups about Rand as well as my questions about what the hell Sinjin wanted from Mercedes. Instead I just allowed Sinjin to hold me tightly, guiding me around the room. I allowed myself to enjoy the feel of a man’s hands around me, Sinjin’s hands, and pretended that maybe in an alternate universe somewhere, maybe in the vicinity of Kurt Vonnegut’s planet of rolling tires, Sinjin and I could have our day.
It had to be midnight. Well, I wasn’t sure what time it was exactly, but judging by the pitch black outside, I assumed it must be the dead of night. I found myself in Rand’s living room, awaiting the arrival of Varick and Sinjin who had gone out feasting … On whom, I had no idea. Odran and Trent sat on Rand’s leather couch while Rand stood on one side of the fireplace and I stood on the other, trying to thaw the perpetual chill that had lodged itself in my bones. I never could get used to cold English nights.
Rand seemed to be doing his utmost to avoid looking at me and I was doing my utmost to avoid looking at him. It was silly but obligatory because it wasn’t like we could now get into the mega-conversation that we kept evading. It seemed that lately there was just too much going on for us to reconnect. I was either in dance lessons or otherwise preoccupied with equally fun tasks while Rand was … well, Rand was Rand.
Mercedes stood at the front door, searching for any sign of Sinjin or Varick. She turned to f
ace us again, letting out a sigh as though she were eager to start our emergency meeting. Apparently, an hour or so earlier, someone had arrived at Pelham Manor bearing the news that the Lurkers had struck in Vermont. They’d killed twenty Underworld creatures—actually the entire population of Underworld creatures who made their homes in Vermont—eleven weres, two witches, and seven vamps.
After another minute or so, Varick and Sinjin appeared in the doorway and Mercedes hurriedly ushered them into the living room. Upon seeing me, Sinjin smiled and bowed low, whispering “my Queen” in salutation. My heart rose up into my throat and my pulse thundered in my ears. I didn’t smile but just glanced away, suddenly feeling uncomfortable about our dance. For some reason, it almost seemed indecent to me—indecent that we had danced so closely and even more indecent that I’d allowed it.
I was meant to be with Rand—I convinced myself of that when he and I had our moment in 1878. Now I was doing a damn poor job of keeping my promise that he and I would be together again in the here and now. While I didn’t have the luxury of time when it came to picking a suitable moment to talk to Rand, dancing with Sinjin certainly hadn’t moved me any closer to my goal.
None of that mattered now, though. What mattered was the twenty of our own who were now dead.
“What happened?” Rand demanded. I couldn’t help but notice his gaze as it traveled back and forth between Sinjin and me. I almost wondered if his question was aimed at us or at Mercedes.
“I only know what the messenger shared with me,” Mercedes said. Evidently, the so-called messenger had come across the death scene in Vermont and immediately boarded a plane to England and Pelham Manor. He’d announced the dire news to Mercedes, who just happened to be the first person he encountered.
“And where is this messenger?” Sinjin asked nonchalantly as he settled himself in an unoccupied armchair just beside me. He stretched out his long legs and crossed them at the ankles, looking comfortable and dashing in his customary black attire.
“He seemed a bit … flustered … so I charmed him to sleep,” Mercedes answered with a smile. That had to mean the poor guy was so frazzled after seeing his friends and/or family massacred and then traveling half a day, he probably had a meltdown. I know I would have. And luckily for him, he had Mercedes instead of Tylenol PM.
“But upon my instructions, he was able to procure this.” Mercedes reached across the tabletop behind her and produced a bloody, wadded-up piece of clothing that appeared to be a shirt or maybe a skirt. I thought the fabric was pink, or maybe all the blood had just turned it pink.
“I guess we’re on again tonight?” I asked, realizing Mercedes planned another reanimation for whomever the clothes had belonged to, and that she’d probably intended for us to do it immediately. But the thought of attempting to reanimate anyone else left me nothing but worried. I wasn’t sure I had the strength to go through it again. Not after what had happened last time.
“That was my intention,” Mercedes said with finality.
“I don’t think I can handle ten more,” I said hesitantly, biting my lower lip. “Something happened to me with the last ten.”
“You are not aware of your own strength,” Mercedes said dismissively but Rand interrupted her.
“What do you mean, Jolie?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know what happened but it was as if I lost some of my power with each reanimation. I was exhausted like I’ve never been before. It was like … like electricity went through me or something.”
“It is a difficult feat to reanimate more than one creature,” Mercedes started.
“If Jolie isn’t feeling well,” Rand interrupted.
But I knew we’d have to reanimate at least one of the dead in this most recent incident. Otherwise, how would we ever find out exactly what had happened?
“I think I’m okay,” I said with an insincere smile at Rand.
He just frowned and cocked a brow before facing Mercedes again. She held up the tattered piece of clothing she’d managed to obtain from the messenger and studied it before facing us all expectantly. “This is a sign, I hope you all realize.”
“Ah sign?” Odran repeated, reminding me that he and Trent were still in the room. It’s funny how whenever Rand and Sinjin were in attendance, everyone else seemed to fade into the background.
Mercedes nodded as she faced the fire, appearing to lose herself in the dancing flames. Worry gnawed at her features, and I had to wonder what was going through her head. Suddenly realizing she had an audience, she cleared her throat and faced us again.
“I imagine our enemies know what our weaknesses are—that our population continues to dwindle while theirs continues to increase. We are on the precipice of a disaster that could wipe us out entirely.”
“And what do you propose we do?” Rand asked with tight lips. I glanced at him, despite my attempt to keep from looking at him all night. Seeing him did me no good. Instead it made me all nervous and flustered inside and increased my body temperature by about five degrees.
“We need to continue reanimating the entire legion,” Mercedes said.
“We’re already doing that,” I pointed out, in a duh sort of tone.
“No.” Rand shook his head as his eyes found mine. “We’re reanimating our side, not Bella’s.”
Mercedes nodded as if to say Rand had hit the nail right on the head. “Perhaps we should reanimate both sides, ours and Bella’s.”
There were lots of hushed tones as everyone reacted to the idea of reanimating our enemies. The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized there was no way around it. If the Lurkers really were growing in numbers, it was possible that they could wipe us out. Especially if we couldn’t discover their weakness or, worse yet, if they didn’t have any weaknesses. And as to whether or not our magic would work against them …
“Mercedes, does witch magic work against the Lurkers?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I do not know.” She seemed uncomfortable with that fact.
“Bella’s soldiers could take the loyalty oath with truth serum to ensure they are on our side,” I said in a small voice, basically admitting that I agreed with Mercedes.
“It is a risk,” Rand interjected as he started to pace back and forth. And he was right—it would be a risk because it would mean that half our proposed legion had once been loyal to Bella. In effect, we’d have a legion that was already polarized, already divided against itself.
I glanced at Rand again and noticed he was wearing a long-sleeved, white T-shirt and dark jeans. It looked as if he was in need of a haircut because his chestnut waves stuck out from behind his ears. I actually preferred his hair long like this—it gave him a rugged sort of look. But it wasn’t like Rand—unkempt wasn’t part of his vocabulary.
“Bella’s soldiers would recognize the Lurkers as a bigger threat to their future than us,” Trent pointed out. “That could be enough to get them on our side.”
“Aye,” Odran concurred. I glanced at him, wondering why he’d been so quiet throughout the meeting—it wasn’t like Odran. However, seeing he was almost passed out on Rand’s couch, I guessed he was just tired. Hmm, had someone had a busy evening?
“Regardless of whether we decide to reanimate Bella’s legion, we’re forgetting a major issue. We don’t have time to reanimate more creatures,” I interrupted, suddenly very aware of how long it would take to reanimate another two hundred soldiers.
“If we reanimated Bella’s soldiers, that would bring our number of soldiers to five hundred,” Mathilda said quietly.
“Is that enough to take on the Lurkers?” I asked, somewhat surprised to know we would only number five hundred. Of course, I guess it made sense: If Underworld creatures numbered in the hundreds of thousands, the society of humans would not exist as it currently did. The entire world would be subject to the powers and abilities of the Underworld beings, who were much more powerful than humans.
Mathilda cocked her head to the side as if sh
e were considering my question. “I do not know.”
“How many are on their side?” I asked, glancing at Mercedes.
She shrugged. “I believe their numbers are close to one thousand.”
“One thousand?” I repeated. “How is that possible? That sounds much smaller than I’d imagined. I thought they had no issues with procreating?”
Mercedes shook her head. “The females are only fertile for a short time before they become Lurkers, that is, before their fangs set in.”
“But you said they were expanding at an alarming speed?” I argued.
“Their rate of procreation is faster than ours, that was my point.”
“How do you know this?” Rand asked.
Mercedes frowned at him. “I have learned all I know of the Lurkers through visions and brief encounters with them over the hundreds of years of both of our existences. I admit my knowledge of them is hardly exhaustible.” She paused for a few seconds. “What I do know is that in order for us to defeat them, we will need Bella’s legion.”
Everyone was quiet as they mulled over the possibilities of reanimating Bella’s legion. Before I could think of a solution for the time issue, I was plagued with yet another troubling thought. “We don’t have any pieces of clothing or anything personal from Bella’s soldiers, which prevents us from being able to reanimate them in the first place.”
“We’d have to get Bella on board,” Rand answered, sighing as if that task would be even harder than reanimating her entire legion. He was probably right.
“That’s virtually impossible,” I said, remembering how less than happy she’d been to see me when I’d visited her. No, she would relish having us at her mercy and would love telling all of us to shove it.
“There would be no other way,” Rand argued as he started pacing back and forth again. “She must have created a ledger or something of that nature bearing the names of all her soldiers.”
“I don’t see Bella helping us,” Trent said.
“I think he’s right, Rand,” I said.
Witchful Thinking (Jolie Wilkins #3) Page 14