“Trust me,” Christian snarled, pressing his arm in harder. He swore he heard something pop as Lucian’s face turned ashen. “Nothing would satisfy me more than breaking your traitorous neck. Why would you bring me here?”
“They want Victoria.”
Christian pulled back a smidge, his eyes narrowing. “Do they have her?”
“No.”
“Where is she?” he hissed, pressing harder. “If a hair on her head is harmed, I will dismember you myself.”
“I don’t know where she is,” Lucian choked. “I swear.”
“You swear?” Christian laughed. “As if I would believe a word that comes out of your deceiving mouth. Have you no sense of loyalty? Brotherhood? No,” he growled. “You are so consumed by jealousy that you would betray your own blood to save your skin. Everything I have ever done has been for you and you spit in my face. I will ask you one last time. Where. Is. She?” He spat the last three words as if they were bullets.
“I don’t know.” Lucian’s eyes dilated with alarm. “We were attacked before Freyja could do anything.”
“You are lying.”
“He’s telling the truth, Your Grace.” Those words came from the gaunt warlock lying in the rubble, propped up against the side of the building. Christian’s eyes flicked to her and widened in delayed recognition. He’d seen Freyja in the school courtyard and this pale woman who had spoken looked like a ghostly imitation of her. Shadows haunted her emaciated face.
He inclined his head in silent greeting and lifted one eyebrow as her condition and the state of the building swam into view. The place was ripped apart. That would explain the explosion he’d felt in the cell. His eyes narrowed as he assessed the damage, noting the remnants of magical spells on the walls and on the floor. Bodies—ones he hadn’t drained—littered the empty hall and the open courtyard. “What happened here?”
“Demon.”
“One you summoned?”
She stood weakly, another warlock—Roan, he recognized—rushing to her side. “No.”
Christian frowned, his mind running through the options. If the demon hadn’t been summoned by one of her coven, it could mean several things. One, there was a rogue warlock on the loose, which wasn’t that improbable. Warlocks were a capricious breed, some preferring a life of solitude to life in a coven. Gabriel, Victoria’s school friend from last year had not been affiliated with anyone, and he had coveted the power that Le Sang Noir promised. Two, the demon was lost and had somehow slipped through the fabric of the dimensions to the mortal world. Or three, it wanted to be here. And that was the worst option of all—because those demons fed until there was nothing left. Drawn to immortal power, they were parasites, a plague on humans and non-humans alike.
“What kind of demon was it?”
She swallowed, her next words confirming his worst theory. “One I’ve never seen before. Untethered and strong. Old. Powerful. I think it was … a demon lord.”
Christian frowned. It was far worse than he’d anticipated. Demon lords rarely strayed from their dimensions and, as far as he knew, never came to the mortal plane. They could not be summoned or coerced and were known to be ruthless. What was one doing here? And why now?
“Where is it?”
“It attacked and disappeared,” she explained. “I tried to connect to it to see if someone had summoned it and sent it here, but it overpowered me.” Her gaze shifted to the vampire still caught in his grasp. “Lucian thought that the recent killings of vampires and witches looked to be the same as the victims of the demon.”
Christian had forgotten his brother hanging limply against the wall. Now their eyes met. Loathing ripped through him. He’d always been able to forgive Lucian for all of his transgressions and his many betrayals, but this time … he could barely stand to look at him. He released his hold and stepped back. “It is over for good this time.”
“Just the way I like it,” Lucian snarled, his eyes full of hate.
Christian turned his attention to Freyja, the demon’s presence overlooked for the moment. “Why do you want her? Victoria?”
“Your witch?”
A muscle leapt in his cheek. She wasn’t his. Not anymore. “Yes.”
“Her powers are too dangerous, too volatile. She must be … contained.”
“You were going to use me to get to her,” he surmised, correctly interpreting her expression.
“Yes.”
She didn’t have to explain why. Christian knew exactly what that look in her eyes meant—the warlock was planning to kill her. It surprised him. Most people coveted Victoria’s power, but it seemed as if Freyja wanted to restrict it by any means she thought necessary, including Victoria’s death. Christian thought back to what he knew of the warlocks—everyone believed them to be evil, particularly because of their summoning strengths. In the old days, they used to be called oath-breakers.
“Why?” he asked anyway.
“It is my sworn duty. Her blood is tainted.”
Did she think that she was defending the world from Victoria’s power?
Christian frowned, blinking as new information passed down from his maker’s memories and rose to the forefront of his mind, particularly an ancient Norse myth of the Vardlokkur. These original warlocks were known as the guardians of wisdom and magic, binding and warding evil spirits and demons to keep the magic of this world safe.
Christian met Freyja’s eyes and nodded with a short bow. “I understand what you are.” He shook his head. “But she wouldn’t have come. Her loyalty does not lie with me.” Christian did not miss the disbelieving look his brother sent his way before he scurried off to check on Lena, nor did he miss the agonized one she tossed in his direction. She was dead to him too. He eyed Freyja. “You should know that I will defend her with my life, no matter your oaths, Vardlokkur.”
“Our fight is not with you, Your Grace.”
He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. Despite Victoria’s recent actions, he could never leave her to defend herself alone. She would forever be in his blood. “If it is with her, then it is also with me.”
Christian turned on his heel and walked out into the night. The rogue demon would have to wait. Locating Victoria was his only priority and there was only one person he trusted to help find her.
EIGHTEEN
Those Who Covet
Christian and Angie waited in the half-opened foyer as one of the witches went to fetch Aliya, after a long, terrified glance at him and a circumspect one at her. Four male witches entered the room on silent feet, but did not approach them, instead settling at each one of the corners. Christian acknowledged them, but remained relaxed. After all, a vampire and a magicless witch had invaded their sanctuary. He eyed Angie, grateful that she had accompanied him without question. He knew that she had come to Paris to offer support to her friend and he was humbled that she still considered him one.
“Tori loves you,” she’d said.
“I wish I could believe that.”
“You have to. She needs you more than anything, but she’s confused and being pulled a thousand different ways. She’ll come around, don’t worry.”
“I hope you’re right.”
She’d shot him a plucky smile. “I am.”
They had searched everywhere, called Holly even, but there was no sign of Victoria. It was as if she’d vanished off the face of the earth. He knew that wasn’t the case—she had to be somewhere. If anything, it meant that her powers had somehow been inhibited. An icy sensation had crawled along his spine. That insidious feeling that something had happened to her had made him go to the one place where he wasn’t welcome—the high priestess temple that lay hidden in the center of the Bois de Boulogne.
While they waited, Christian’s eyes wandered the room. A trickling waterfall graced one end of the space and vines wound across the top, tying into the nearby trees. The temple was designed in relaxing hues of yellows and greens, with the exceptio
n of one wall on the far end, which seemed to shift with the room’s occupants. Right now, it exhibited a complex landscape of angry reds with swatches of intertwined grays and blacks. It was an accurate representation of his current emotional state. When Angie had entered, it’d been lavender and orange. He knew the minute Aliya walked in because the far wall shifted into hues of soft whites and blues.
Aliya stared at them, shock etched in her features. Her gaze darted to Angie and her frown deepened. “Your Grace, to what do we owe this visit?”
“My apologies,” Christian said with a short bow. Angie nodded imperceptibly to him, and he knew that she had just scanned Aliya’s aura. He hadn’t expected Aliya to be their enemy, but he had to be sure. “I went to your home and was told that you were here.”
“I understand,” she said, but Christian knew she didn’t. Vampires didn’t make it a practice of intruding on the temples of the Witch Clans. One, they were warded from discovery, and two, it simply was not allowed. Christian didn’t have time for propriety, however, or explaining to Aliya how he’d managed to find their most sacred of spaces. Time was of the essence. “Why are you here?” she asked.
“May we speak in private?” he asked in a lowered voice. “I am here to discuss a matter of sensitive nature.”
“Of course.” She dismissed the four witches with a nod and they slipped from the hall. Christian noticed that the far wall had darkened considerably with more midnight blue hues taking precedence. She followed the direction of his eyes and frowned. Instantly, the wall shifted into a pale neutral shade. “It’s a moodscape,” she explained. “It shows the mental state of anyone here. We are alone, Your Grace. You may speak freely. But first, who is your friend?”
He nodded to the girl at his side. “This is one of Victoria’s friends. Angie. She is an Aurus.”
“Ah,” Aliya nodded as if answering an unspoken question. “That is how you were able to find the temple.”
Christian nodded shortly and wasted no more time. “Victoria. Is she here?”
“You haven’t found her?”
“No. I am sorry I did not contact you as I said I would. I had … a minor disagreement with my brother, the details of which I won’t bore you with. But prior to that, I received a garbled message from Victoria a few hours ago, asking for my help. It was disjointed and didn’t seem like her.” He stared at Aliya, wondering how much the witch knew and how much a part she had played in Victoria’s decisions. “Given that we are no longer together, I didn’t expect to hear from her of all people, and by the time I tried to respond, I couldn’t reach her.” He cleared his throat. “You have been a longtime liaison to the Council, and I know that relations between us have been strained lately, but I need your help.”
“Does this have anything to do with the attack at Belles Fontaines?”
Christian’s mind was racing. It was something he hadn’t considered. His brother and the warlocks had attacked the school together. Had they meant to take Victoria then? And somehow failed? He had believed Freyja when she’d said she didn’t have her.
“I don’t know,” he answered. “Can you and the other priestesses try a location spell?”
Aliya shook her head. “We can try, but it won’t work. We have tried it many times when we heard that the prophecy had come to pass. Her blood has a unique cloaking mechanism that renders it invisible to any other magic.”
Christian tried not to let his disappointment show. She couldn’t have just vanished. If the warlocks didn’t have her and the Clans didn’t, then that only left the vampires. Was there some power-seeking vampire other than his brother that he hadn’t considered?
“Is there anyone at the school who would want to harm her?” Angie asked, interrupting his train of thought. “I would know if they meant her ill.”
Aliya shook her head. “No. That is absurd.”
“I’m afraid we have to consider all options,” Christian said. “It is a valid question. Too many people know of the existence of the curse and one taste of such power can corrupt the most virtuous of hearts. One of her teachers? One of her friends, perhaps? What about Madame Starke or that boy who was with her at your house?”
“Starke is one of our strongest leaders,” Aliya said grimly. “She was opposed to Victoria’s matriculation to Belles Fontaines because she was worried about the safety of the other students. But despite her personal feelings on the matter, she’d never hurt another witch. She was my protégée. She should have been a high priestess, but was chosen to run the school instead after her training.”
Christian recalled Starke’s position when the warlocks had shown up and nodded. She’d appeared to defend the school to the last. “And the boy?”
“Panthèse?”
“Would he wish to coerce her?”
“Coerce her? He is her friend and her mentor,” Aliya said. “And Pan is one of the most gentle people I know. He’d never hurt her.”
Angie exchanged a glance with him, pain shadowing her eyes for a second as the memories of the past year resurfaced. “Sometimes the ones we trust the most are the ones we should fear the most. My brother was the warlock who hurt Tori last year. I trust no one. And until I can see their true nature for myself, you shouldn’t either. If this Pan is her friend, he’ll know where she is or at least be able to help us.”
Aliya closed her eyes for a second, concentrating hard for a moment. “He lives in the tenth arrondissement. Rue de Pareil.”
“Thank you.”
Christian turned to leave just as his senses tingled. Angie tensed, too. When they emerged from the foyer, a semi-circle of three dozen witches met them, their faces grim. Madame Starke stood at the center of their ranks, unveiled hatred on her face.
“Detain this filth,” she shouted. “He and his vampires have killed hundreds of our people. And now he has taken the Cruentus Curse.”
“Odette,” Aliya gasped. “You overstep your bounds. That has not been proven.”
Odette Starke stared her down, her obsidian eyes unblinking. “Oh, don’t think I haven’t noticed your unnatural affection for these blood-drinkers. If it were up to you, the future of our race and this thing”—her scornful eyes scanned Christian from head to toe —“would still be living together.”
Aliya approached the witch with caution, as two other priestesses from inside the temple joined the three of them. “This is a place of peace with innocent children inside its walls,” she said, frowning. “And Lord Devereux is here under our protection.”
“Then you and those with you are as guilty as he.”
“Victoria is missing—”
Odette hissed. “Of course she is missing. He took her.”
Christian nodded imperceptibly to Angie, whose gaze was unfocused as she assessed the line of witches opposing them. She stared back, her fingers closing around the hilts of the crossbow tucked into her waistband, confirming his suspicion. This was a coup and Starke and her followers wanted payment in vampire blood. Aliya hadn’t quite caught on, but Christian knew a rebellion when he saw one. The Clans were scared and Starke was capitalizing on their fear. He wondered what her endgame was and then remembered Aliya’s words—she’d been in training to be high priestess. Was this what it was about? Sour grapes? He met Odette’s cold eyes and exhaled. That and power. Everything fell into place.
“It was you, wasn’t it?” he asked, his voice mild.
“How dare you address me, vampire?” she snarled. A wave of angry murmurs pressed through the crowd at her back.
“You do know where Victoria is, do you not?”
“How dare you?” Odette repeated. “When you are the very one who took her? Admit it—you were against her schooling from the first. You wanted her powers for yourself.”
Christian smiled. “I have already sampled the power of Le Sang Noir, and trust me, I wish to have no part in it.”
Odette’s lip curled as she spat to the side. “Scum like you has no business wie
lding the magic of our bloodline. That privilege belongs to us. She belongs to us.”
Aliya stared from him to the headmistress and back again. “What is this?” she whispered as if finally starting to put the pieces together.
“Your time is over,” Odette said. “You had your chance to do what was right and you let this piece of filth defile our temple. You let our people die. You wanted peace with these creatures and for what? For a massacre? Well, the time for goodwill is done. And we’re going to start by sending this one back to his people piece by piece.” She eyed her longtime mentor. “You can join us or join them, your choice.”
“This is madness,” Aliya said. “The vampires have had casualties as well. We have no proof that they are the perpetrators.”
“If we wait for your proof, how many more must die?” someone shouted from the rear of the line. “The vampires have waged war on us for centuries, and now that we have the Cruentus Curse in our grasp, they are picking us off one by one.”
Aliya tried one last time. “Listen to yourselves. You are going to war on a whim based on the word of one witch.”
“Step aside, Aliya,” Odette said, blue fire crackling from her fingertips. “Or die with your new friends.”
To Christian’s surprise, Aliya stood her ground. “I pledged a sacred oath to defend this temple and the truth with my life.”
“So be it.”
He dodged the first blast Odette threw his way as the line collapsed toward them. “Run,” he shouted to Angie. Without magic, she wouldn’t be able to defend herself. Once more, he found himself taken aback as Angie dove behind a stone pillar and pulled what looked like a mini collapsible automated crossbow from her backpack. He could barely keep up with the toothpick-sized darts flying from it. One by one, the aggressors in front of her fell.
At his look, she grinned. “Had to come up with something to defend myself in this world of supernatural crazies. Nothing like a teeny little sleep dart … works like a charm every time.”
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