“How much time?” Gavril asked.
“At least four to five hours.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah.”
“But I’ll tell you this much,” Evee said. “Whatever time it takes and whoever this ‘him’ is, he may not be as big as Chank claims he is. But I swear on every living soul I know I will punch that son of a bitch in the face so hard he’ll be sniffing his ass for the rest of his life.”
Chapter 25
After everyone, including Lucien, left the café, Evee wasn’t quite sure what to do with herself. She could have spent some time readying the café for its morning business, but Margaret would be in soon enough to take care of that for her. Besides, she didn’t want to be in the café, not right now anyway. She had to check one more time.
Evee went back to the cathedral to make certain her Nosferatu were still tucked away safely in the catacombs.
When she finally arrived at St. John’s and sneaked into the crypts, she saw all was well. Most of her Nosferatu were sleeping, some on top of crypts, others inside grave shelves, along with the bones of some former priests, bishops or deacons.
After seeing her brood was collected and sound, Evee felt better and headed back to the café to complete her duties.
Once there she made certain the appropriate amount of cash was in the register to provide change for early morning customers. Then she went into the kitchen area of the café to make sure they had all the ingredients needed for the day’s morning and noon rush.
As Evee ticked off eggs, bacon, rice, sausage, tasso and biscuit mix from her mental list, Lucien kept weaving in and out of her thoughts. She’d never seen him that way before. Quiet, seemingly actionless. Like a man unsure of what to feel. Not that she blamed him. Had she been faced with the same situations they’d gone through in one day, she’d probably have crawled into a hole and walled off the rest of the world.
Still, she had been surprised when Lucien, who appeared so absolutely empty, had simply walked away when they were done with the channeling session. Pride had kept her from calling out to him.
As Evee worked to finish off her to-do list at the café, she recalled how Ronan had died. The scene kept playing over and over in her head. The long, crooked claws of the Cartesian jammed into Ronan’s head. How he hadn’t so much as whimpered when the Cartesian took him.
Ronan had saved her life, and now she had no way of repaying him for his kindness, his heroism, his sacrifice. Evee knew she’d carry the nightmare of Ronan’s death until her own came to claim her. She’d also remember the last words she’d said to Lucien. How they couldn’t be together anymore. Although she’d said it for his own safety and the safety of the other Benders and the Triad, her heart nearly collapsed in on itself. She never wanted to be without Lucien, but Ronan’s death had caused her to think way past what she wanted.
There was no denying that karma meant to kick her ass, using everyone she cared about and loved. It was then she’d come to the heartbreaking conclusion that her sexual liaisons with Lucien had to stop. If adding one horror to another was how the universe planned on breaking her down, it had succeeded.
It was nearly 6:00 a.m. when Evee finished her chores in the café. Before heading home, she called Margaret, the café’s hostess and general manager, to let her know she wouldn’t be getting back to the café until much later. She told Margaret that all the supplies for today’s meals had been accounted for, which meant Margaret wouldn’t be starting her day at ground zero.
Once Margaret agreed to hold down the fort until Evee returned, she locked up the café and headed home.
By the time Evee made it home, she was so exhausted that she all she wanted to do was collapse in her bed. Which she did, telling herself she’d shower whenever she woke.
No sooner had her head hit the pillow than she felt sleep capture her. It refused to remain a constant, however.
She kept seeing visions of Ronan being slaughtered by the Cartesian, the sadness that radiated from Lucien as he witnessed his cousin’s death, the heartache of loss swelling up from Nikoli and Gavril. With so many horrid memories rolling across her mind, piercing into her dreams, she found herself jolting awake every thirty minutes or so.
Evee finally gave up on any form of deep sleep around noon. She got out of bed, feeling more fatigued than she had when she’d gotten into bed.
After showering and taking care of her other bathroom duties, Evee went down to the kitchen for something to eat. Evidently, Viv and Gilly had already left, either to check on their businesses or brood, because they were nowhere to be found in the house.
Oddly enough, Hoot wasn’t home, either. He always did a flyby when Evee was preparing something to eat. She assumed he was out on one of his recon missions.
After making herself a grilled cheese sandwich, she ate it while standing near the stove. The house was quiet. Too quiet. The silence made her mind go abuzz with all that had happened over the last twenty-four hours.
The last thing Evee needed was to sulk around the house, reliving the nightmares that had stolen her sleep.
Having washed her grilled cheese sandwich down with a bottle of water, Eve left the house and went to a trolley stop about a block away.
The trolley jerked and shimmied as it stopped to pick up passengers or let some off along its ancient tracks. When it finally reached Canal, Evee signaled for a stop.
Exiting the trolley, she walked the seven or eight blocks to St. John’s Cathedral. She wanted to check in on her Nosferatu once more before heading to the café and relieving Margaret.
She and Pierre had discussed how antsy the Nosferatu had been when they were off-loaded from the ferry. Fortunately, they’d been able to keep them under control. Antsy was never good when it came to a Nosferatu. One could never tell what it’d do next.
Inside the cathedral, Evee made her way to the side door that led to the catacombs. The door to the catacombs always stayed locked, which kept parishioners from snooping inside. Fortunately, the one small spell she used to open the lock on that door never seemed to fail.
Evee felt she might be getting a little OCD over her Originals. She’d checked on them only a few hours ago, and the majority of them had been asleep, which was usual for them after a feeding. They didn’t start waking and grumbling until nightfall.
But worry was worry, and it would only be appeased when she laid eyes on her brood.
When Evee finally reached the catacombs, the first thing she noticed was the absolute darkness in the cavernous space. She froze when she walked into the dank, cool space below the church. The electric dome that had once lit up the catacombs like it held a thousand flashlights no longer existed.
The darkness was so complete she could barely see her hand in front of her face. Fortunately, she remembered that at the entrance to the catacombs, on a small table to the left of the door, stood two MagLite lights. These were used by the groundskeeper and by priests laying one of their own to rest.
Evee walked back a few steps, collected a MagLite from the table, then made her way back into the underground cemetery.
Her hands shook as she turned on the flashlight. And for good reason. Except for the decaying crypts and the wrapped corpses lying on burial shelves, the catacombs were empty.
She walked deeper into the belly of the catacombs, all the while calling out for Pierre and her other Originals. Her come-hither call was a high-pitched whistle that ended in a screech, much like the sounds Hoot made when he sensed danger. Her calls echoed back in the cavernous space until they overlapped.
No one appeared. No response to her calls. Not even from Pierre.
When Evee called out again and received no reply, her hands shook so badly that the light bounced around the catacombs in nonsensical patterns, turning it into a macabre funhouse.
Still seeing n
othing of her Originals, Evee ran out of the catacombs, out of the church and down Chartres Street. She felt tears burn her eyes and slide down her cheeks as she ran faster, as fast as her feet would allow. She had to reach her sisters to let them know.
Just as she turned a corner, heading for Snaps and Gilly, she ran into someone... She was so blind with worry she pushed away from him and was about to take off again when he grabbed her arm.
She looked down at the hand grasping her arm, then up at the face it belonged to. Lucien.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, evidently seeing her tears, her wild eyes.
Evee didn’t give a second thought about throwing her arms around him and sobbing.
Lucien held her tight. “Tell me,” he said. “What is it? What has you so upset?”
“They’re all gone,” Evee wailed.
“Who’s gone?”
“All of my Nosferatu! I just left the catacombs. It’s empty. I don’t know what happened. I went a few hours ago to check on them, and all was fine. Most of them asleep.”
“There’s no one down there?” Lucien asked. “Not even Pierre?”
She shook her head frantically. “No one. Not one Nosferatu. Nothing.”
Without saying a word, Lucien grabbed Evee’s hand and led her back toward the catacombs.
When they made their way inside, the only thing illuminated was the MagLite light that Evee had dropped when she ran from the catacombs. It lay on the ground, still burning brightly.
Lucien picked up the flashlight and walked through the catacombs, shaking his head. “I can’t believe the electric dome is completely out. Do you have any idea where the Nosferatu might have gone?”
“N-no,” Evee whimpered. “I haven’t a clue. I called and called for them, but not one responded.”
“Aside from the special call you give when you summon them, do you have any other way of contacting them?”
Evee sniffled, thinking hard, but her brain felt like it had clicked a pause button. She couldn’t think of anything besides the fact that her entire brood was missing.
Suddenly, a thought hit Evee. “If any are dead, I might be able to channel one or more, like I did Chank earlier. See if they know anything.”
“You feel comfortable channeling with only me here with you?” Lucien asked.
Evee sniffled again. “Of course. Channeling is no big secret society game. It’s more like I open myself up to them so they can talk through me.”
“Then let’s try it,” Lucien said.
“It’s not as easy as that,” Evee said. “I have to have a picture of the deceased in my mind’s eye.”
“Start somewhere, like maybe Pierre. He was responsible for watching over the Nosferatu when you weren’t around, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then logically, if Pierre was in charge of that group and now all of them are gone, chances are someone or something took him out.”
“I can start there, but if he isn’t dead, I don’t know that I’ll be able to find out anything. I can’t attempt to summon every Nosferatu that’s died. It would take forever.”
“Understandable. But let’s try Pierre. What can it hurt? If you can’t summon him that way, it probably means he’s still alive, which is a good thing.”
Lucien held the flashlight so its beam pointed at Evee’s feet. “It’s at least worth a try.”
Evee nodded, then quickly lowered herself to the concrete floor. She sat cross-legged and placed her palms up on her knees and closed her eyes. She tried visualizing Pierre, in human form and in his natural state.
Once her mind’s eye was filled with the image of Pierre, Evee began to call for him.
“Pierre, oh leader of mine, I call upon you to come to me. Without harm or foul, use my body so that we might learn from you. So that we might see through your eyes, hear with your ears, and find the Originals who’ve left this place.”
Suddenly, Evee felt a shiver run through her, always an indication that somebody or something wanted to come through and reside within her, if only for a moment.
She let her mind go blank, then felt her mouth drop open.
Evee heard a male voice from somewhere that seemed far way.
“They are all lost and near death,” the voice said. “You stupid, archaic bitch. You and your spells are worthless. Completely asinine. Soon there will be no Originals for you to watch over. Very soon!”
Evee didn’t recognize the voice and couldn’t tell where it was coming from. It confused her, made her body shiver. She opened her eyes and looked over at Lucien. The expression on his face was nothing short of shock.
“I heard a voice,” Evee said, “but it didn’t sound like it was coming through me.”
“Oh, it came through you all right, but I don’t think it was Pierre.”
“Who, then?”
“Possibly a Cartesian. Called you a stupid archaic bitch, and said your Nosferatu would soon all be dead.”
Evee unfurled her legs, then pulled her knees up to her chest. She put her forehead against her knees and began sobbing uncontrollably.
Lucien leaned over and gathered Evee up into his arms.
She clung tightly to his neck, still sobbing.
Lucien rocked her gently in his arms. “Shh. I’m here. We’ll find them. I promise to stay at your side. Now that all of your Nosfertu are missing, we have to prepare for a great war. We’ll find them and bring them home.”
“But don’t you see?” Evee said between sobs. “This is my fault. It’s my fault they’re missing.”
Lucien took hold of Evee’s chin and turned her so she faced him. His emerald eyes were fierce, piercing.
“For the last time, none of this is your fault, Evette François. The fault lies in the leader of the Cartesians. It has an agenda and will do whatever it has to do to accomplish it.”
She looked down for a moment, slightly embarrassed.
Lucien lifted her chin once more, made sure Evee was looking directly into his eyes.
“And one other thing,” Lucien said, his eyes softening. “In case you haven’t noticed... I’m falling in love with you, Evette François, whether you like it or not. Despite the missing Nosferatu, Cartesian deaths and the curse that haunts you, I will always be by your side.”
He pressed her head to his chest and whispered, “Evee.”
Evee felt herself go limp in his arms and with her face pressed against his shoulder, she whispered with great trepidation, “And I love you, Lucien Hyland. Come hell or be damned, I do.” She hoped her whisper had been too low for him to hear, but judging by how tightly he held her, how he kissed her forehead, her lips, he’d heard.
And in that moment, Evee knew in her heart of hearts that with Lucien by her side, they’d win this war, despite the odds.
Evee had no idea about the how, when and where of it all. She simply knew they’d win. Lucien gave her strength.
She was a Triad, not a wimp. She had generations of powerful witches flowing through her blood. It was time to buck up and take control over what was hers. No more Miss Wimpy, which meant no more tears. The Triad was at war, and she concentrated on drawing the strength from her ancestors and from Lucien. The Benders were already warriors of great magnitude, not afraid to stare death in the eye. Ronan had proved that.
Now, Lucien deserved a partner just as strong, just as fierce and determined as he was. They’d set the Triad’s world back on its axis and annihilate the enemy. Not only the Cartesians, but their goddamn leader.
Cut the head off the dog and the rest of the animal dies. Evee planted that goal deep in her heart, held tightly to Lucien. She and this man would find and destroy the enemy who’d taken so much from them. And with its death, she’d take Lucien as her own. Curse or no curse. There was no more to take from
her, except Lucien, and she would fight at his side and protect him with her life.
She meant to spend the rest of her life with this man. If the curse stood true, Evee would lose all her powers.
So be it.
Better to lose every power she’d ever known than lose the one man who treasured her and made her feel whole.
* * * * *
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THE WITCH’S THIRST?
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