by Aliya DalRae
Rachel glanced behind her in time to see their mother cringe. After the Primeval’s admission, seeing both of her wayward daughters and the son she had disowned must have been a real slap in the face. Served the bitch right.
Rebecca stepped around Rachel and Harrier and hurried to the table where the feral, Maxx, stood to greet her. They embraced enthusiastically, and Rachel was ashamed to be channeling her mother with a cringe of her own. Rebecca did ferals now? Though she supposed if an upside existed, it lay in that ferals couldn’t procreate. Perhaps she shouldn’t judge too harshly.
Harrier gave Rachel a look—staying or going—and Rachel turned back to the table, now filled with gob-smacked Vampires. All but Nox of course, who was dabbing his lips with a linen napkin.
“Wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Rachel whispered to Harrier.
“Nor would I, sister” he replied and escorted her back to her seat.
Someone offered brief introductions, and now that everyone had something to be pissed about, dinner resumed in silence. Except for Rebecca, of course, who couldn’t seem to shut up.
“Have you ever been to Paris?” she asked Maxx. “We really must go. The people there are simply delicious!”
The servants reappeared to clear the table, and when they withdrew, Mason requested a private meeting with the Primeval. Even Magnus seemed eager to be out of Rebecca’s annoying presence.
Rachel decided to take advantage of their absence and rescue Nox, but before she could formulate a plan, Magnus signaled Sasha.
“Take Nox to his old room. Once he’s secured you can take a break. I’m sure you must be exhausted.”
“Thank you, my lord,” the woman whispered. She then sauntered to the table, her long blond hair floating around her, excited by the level of magic she must have been using to control a Vampire with Nox’s abilities. She touched him on the shoulder and he turned to her.
“Sasha! Lovely to see you.”
“Follow me, please.” That’s all it took, and Nox was on his feet, eager as a hound dog to do her bidding.
“Nox,” Rachel cried, but he merely turned to her and waved, then disappeared into the alcove with that dreadful woman. “Nox,” Rachel whispered. She didn’t miss the Primeval’s smirk as he led Mason through a small door, closing them off from the rest of the gathering.
Chapter Twenty-Three
A fter the Primeval left him that night, William—or Nox, he supposed he’d be called now—was effectively shunned. Someone came and carved a slot in the bottom of his door, and periodically some other someone would slide food through the hole, but no one spoke to him.
The first few times he heard movement beyond the door, he’d called out, begged for them to talk to him, at the very least tell him what had become of Pipa.
He tried using his powers on them, to force them to speak, but it didn’t work. He questioned whether the door between them caused a barrier to his abilities, or if he had to look them in the eye to gain control. It was all so new to him. Magnus had been a complete accident, one he would do again given the circumstances, but an accident nonetheless.
But no one answered, not even a hello. Eventually he gave up and spent his days and nights in the silence of his own company.
The only good to come of this new form of punishment was that the Primeval stayed away as well. Nox didn’t know what had come over him, why he had done what he had, or even how, but he wasn’t sorry. Yes, he would absolutely do it again, only next time, he wouldn’t stop.
In all of it, he only regretted losing Pipa. He missed her desperately, and fear etched his heart when he considered what punishment she must have suffered. Part of him hoped they’d killed her outright, that her pain had been minimal, but in his heart, he knew that wouldn’t be the case. She had deliberately defied the Primeval for years. Magnus wasn’t the type to go lightly on such a major infraction, and that she’d gotten away with it, right under his nose? No, he would take his time with her, and that thought destroyed Nox.
If only she had kept quiet, let him kill the bastard. He would gladly face the entire Primeval Consortium to be rid of this one evil arm of the ruling Vampires. It couldn’t possibly be worse than what he’d experienced in his fifteen years with Magus.
But Pipa was a good person, too good for this place, and Nox hadn’t deserved the kindness she’d shown. In the end, she’d left him, just like all the others. Never trust the pretty ones. They’ll only break your heart. If Magnus taught him anything, that was it.
Nights passed, Nox lost count, and he felt if someone didn’t speak to him soon, he’d go mad. The time between meals had stretched to what he assumed was once a day, and he hadn’t fed since before that awful night. Without blood, and with very little food, his wounds healed slowly, painfully so. He felt himself weakening further, wasting away. Perhaps that was the Primeval’s plan, to let him starve to death and go mad in the process.
Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad idea.
One night, as he lay on his bed contemplating his impending death, his meal appeared through the slot in the door. Expecting the usual bowl of gruel and crust of stale bread, Nox didn’t rush to retrieve it. He remained on the bed, listening for the sound of hurried footsteps retreating down the hall, away from him and the danger he posed.
Tonight, the sound never came. He could hear someone on the other side of the door breathing. He sat up, prepared to leap to his feet should the visitor be a threat, an assassin come to murder him in his bed.
“Hello?” he called out for the first time in weeks. “Are you there?”
No one answered, but they hadn’t left, either. He could hear them, sense them, just outside the door.
He felt a slight burning sensation behind his eyes, a headache coming on, but that was no surprise. Lack of proper sustenance would do that to a person. He scooted across the bed to lean his back against the stone wall and turned his cheek to rest it against the smooth surface. The stones were cool, and that eased the pain in his head a bit.
His visitor was still outside, listening he supposed, waiting for Nox to speak again. Or perhaps they were biding their time before entering his room and ending him for good. The pain in his head increased and he moaned. Perhaps that wouldn’t be such a bad thing, dying. Fifteen years was an awfully long time to be confined in one space.
Seconds turned to minutes, but eventually Nox heard soft footsteps moving away from the door. As they retreated down the hall, the pain behind his eyes eased. His meal forgotten, he lay down on the thin mattress, curled in on himself, and slept.
~~~~~
N ox awoke feeling displaced, his head pounding as though someone were taking a pickaxe to it. The last thing he remembered clearly was the heated conversation over dinner, Mason saying they were leaving, and then it got all jumbled up.
He opened his eyes and a horrific sense of déjà vu swept over him, wrapped him up in a blanket with all the warmth of a body bag.
How had he gotten here?
The familiarity of the mattress he lay upon, the bookshelves and furniture that surrounded him spoke a nauseating truth. He was in his old room, though that was a misnomer wasn’t it. Somehow the Primeval had managed to return him to his cell, the place where he’d spent nearly half a millennium as prisoner and plaything to the most evil Vampire to walk the face of the Earth. Most thought that title went to his brother, that Raven had been the boogeyman of their race, but Nox knew differently. Nothing Raven had done could compare to the atrocities committed by Primeval Magnus.
He shuddered as a river of ice coursed through him, spreading itself through the tributaries and streams of his circulatory system, chilling him to the bone.
As more of the evening came back to him, Nox sat up and scrubbed his hands over his face.
Mason had sworn to keep him safe, promised to get them all out of here with their liberty intact, but the Warlord had underestimated the power of the Primeval. When he wanted something, he would stop at nothing to get it, and he’d made it perfectly c
lear this whole charade had been about getting Nox back. Raven and Mason had never been under suspicion, nor had the Legion itself. Nox had escaped him, and Magnus was determined to remedy that little mistake.
Nox stood and roamed around the room, echoes of the headache fading as he moved. Everything was exactly as he’d left it. The notes he’d been taking on the new Model T Automobile lay in a tidy pile on the corner of the small writing desk, The Wasteland by T.S. Eliot face down on the nightstand, open to the page he’d been reading before his escape. It was as if he’d never left.
And that creeped him the hell out.
Nox. Even the voice in his head was the same.
Nox whipped his head to the wall of reflective glass opposite the bed, a wall he knew to be a two-way mirror. Sasha’s room lay on the other side of that glass, and he had no doubt that she watched him even now.
I’m sorry, the voice bled into his mind, and he slammed his palms to the glass.
“Why?” he asked, searching the corners for cameras and microphones. Magnus had always kept him monitored, updating the surveillance equipment in Nox’s cell with whatever served as state of the art for the times. Now would be no different, and he had no doubt that Sasha, at the very least, watched him.
He could not communicate mind to mind with Sasha as he could with Jessica Sweet, but he had no doubt she could hear him. That she chose to speak directly to his mind rather than use the microphone the Primeval was so fond of spoke to the sincerity of her apology. Not that it mattered.
He gave me no choice, she whispered into his head. If I allow you to escape again, he’ll kill me. Oh, Nox. Why did you come back? You should have stayed away.
Wasn’t that the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question?
The answer was simple. He’d been naïve. He’d believed the Warlord when he said it was a nothing deal. He’d respected the male’s confidence that this misunderstanding would be cleared up in no time. Well, he’d had that much right. Problem was, Magnus had used them all, including Maxx and Fuhrmann, and that Seer female. Rachel’s mother. How could someone as amazing as Rachel have been born to the likes of Victoria? The world was a mystifying place, indeed.
Nox rested his aching forehead against the cool glass. All the years, eons, he’d spent at the Primeval’s hand should have been warning enough. He’d just wanted so badly to believe that he was a respected member of the race now, that he’d found his place. That perhaps he’d even earned the right to love someone, to be loved in return.
Never trust the pretty ones.
He closed his eyes, thought of that brief moment in the elevator back at the Compound when he’d pulled Rachel into his arms and kissed her, her lips cool against his own, but oh, so soft. She’d had him up and down like a yo-yo ever since, but in that one moment, he’d believed.
He was such a bloody fool.
Nox pushed himself away from the mirror and wandered back to the desk, that place where he’d spent so many hours, reading, writing, pondering the meaning of life. It took him a moment to realize that in fact something had changed. A computer sat where his old typewriter had been, the monitor, which could double as a flat screen television, hung on the wall behind the desk, fifty inches of digital information spread before him, ready and willing to rub his face in all that he would miss for centuries to come.
For he had no doubt, the Primeval would not let him go a second time. He’d be seen dead first.
The thought moved him back to the mirrors where he asked, “Why are you still alive?”
Sasha’s voice sounded through speakers arranged in the corners of the room. “Primeval Magnus was certain you would be recovered quickly, and he wanted me on hand to ensure you stayed put. He certainly wasn’t pleased that I’d been deceived, but after he took out his—displeasure—on me, he decided to give me another chance.
“When you continued to elude his search party, he locked me in my room for a year.”
Nox rolled his eyes, couldn’t prevent the sarcasm from leeching into his voice. “A whole year?”
Sasha either missed the irony or chose to ignore it. “Yes. They provided me with three meals a night, but forbad me from speaking to anyone, or they to me. Then one day, Giles came in, unlocked my door, and walked away without a word. I was afraid to leave the room, certain someone would come to correct his mistake. He was new, after all. However, when I received my next meal, the servant left the door open, though she refused to speak to me.
“I eventually worked up the courage to venture out into the hall. When nobody stopped me, I wandered further.”
Nox returned to the bed, sat with his back to the wall and pulled his knees to him. There he rested his head, his eyes closed as he listened to Sasha’s story.
“On the fifth day of my questionable freedom, a servant brought me a dress rather than my usual evening meal, along with a note saying I was to be in the dining hall at nine o’clock PM.
“I was terrified, but I had to obey my master. So, I dressed and waited, apprehensive about what lay ahead, but punctual nonetheless. A servant escorted me to my seat while others delivered my meal. Magnus sat across from me, but he said not a word until we were finishing up dessert.
“He said, ‘When Nox returns to us, and he will return, you will resume your duties therein. Until that time, you will work for Giles. Whatever he asks, you will do, without hesitation, without question. Am I clear?”
Sasha’s voice shuddered through the speakers, and Nox could imagine what hell the frigid butler had put her through. When she continued, her voice didn’t waver.
“I nodded my consent and was summarily dismissed. I was no longer confined to my room, but I often wished for it. Giles is…”
Nox raised his head and stared at the glass wall. “Is what?”
Sasha sighed. “Let’s just say I prayed daily for your speedy return.”
Nox rubbed his hands over his face and leaned his head against the stone wall. “Well, I’m here now.”
“Yes, you are.” Nox, I beg you. Please don’t leave me here again. So many times I’ve cursed you for not taking me with you.”
Nox understood but shook his head. “It was impossible,” he spoke aloud.
I know. Her voice whispered through his mind, her pleas for his ears only. But I beg of you Nox, please, if you leave again, you must take me with you. If you cannot, then kill me in your escape, but do not leave me alive in their hands. I won’t survive. Promise me, Nox.
Nox studied his reflection in the mirrored glass, imagined the woman on the other side as she begged him for her own death. His glass eye appeared dead in comparison to the one that sparked with amethyst light at the thought of taking Sasha’s life. It was a reminder of exactly what the Sorcerers were capable of, and yet he felt compelled to help her.
She had been a young girl when the Primeval brought her in to control Nox, not much older than he was. While she was perfectly capable of horrendous things, she’d never harmed him unless following the Primeval’s orders. Granted that was often, but the truth remained she was as much a prisoner as Nox.
Guilt for leaving her in the hands of that sadistic Vampire would eat at him now, knowing what his escape had cost her. He’d not so much as considered what had happened to her in all the years he’d been free. This one thing she asked, a small thing really, and this thing he could do. He nodded so as not to betray her, and her sigh filled the room.
Nox rose from the bed and walked to the desk where he withdrew a piece of stationary and a pen. He wrote briefly, then wadded the paper, feigned throwing it into the trash bin before returning to the mirrored wall. There he unfolded the piece of paper, his body blocking his actions from the cameras as he once again leaned against the glass.
It read, “I promise. But there’s something you must do for me.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
U li Fuhrmann punched a wall, leaving his imprint in the plaster and bloody scrapes along his knuckles. Fucking Primeval. Fucking Vampires.
The Primeval’s confession that he’d arranged this little party not to arrest the twins but to further his own agenda, left Uli spitting-nails pissed. He was prepared to leave at the first possible moment, with or without his entourage.
The minute the Primeval disappeared with the Warlord, Uli headed for the exit. He made it halfway to the door before Giles appeared out of nowhere, herded him and his cohorts together and escorted them to their wing. Even now, a Vampire stood guard at either end of their hall, reminding the group that they were being watched. Of course, it would take little more than a thought for Uli to dematerialize himself out of this clusterfuck of a situation. However, after further thought, he wasn’t prepared to alienate Victoria just yet. Though the female had her own reasons for agreeing to his little charade, she was still a powerful Seer. It never hurt to have someone of her abilities on his side.
The small group gathered in Uli’s room where Maxx lounged on the plush sofa, the lovely Rebecca sprawled across his legs. Victoria sat stick straight in an overstuffed chair, eyes swirling with amber light, her apparent irritation equaling Uli’s own.
“He used me,” Uli muttered, as he paced a trail in the hardwood floor.
Victoria made a derisive noise. “Of course, he used you. I’m surprised you didn’t see it from the start.”
Uli spun on his heel and faced the female. “Did you?”
Victoria sighed, closed her eyes. When she opened them, they were back to her natural golden brown. “Of course, I did. Magnus had his own plans and you fit into them perfectly. You didn’t really believe he would just hand the twins over to you, did you? Order them seized and destroyed?”
“He took one of them,” Rebecca came up for air long enough to chime in.
“But he won’t kill him, daughter. Nox is a prized pet who escaped him once. Magnus will not let it happen again. He’ll want to bring him out at parties to do tricks for the aristocracy. I don’t know why. That dead eye of his is dreadfully off-putting.”