I scream in time to push back against the first three cold ones dashing for Vanessa. It’s up to me to protect her.
“Vanessa, snap out of it,” I say, then scream again, afraid to give my opponents an opening.
This is a thousand times worse than playing dodgeball. They dart from all sides, so I have to keep screaming to produce more of my only weapon. My throat throbs with each sound that tears from it. I go as fast as I can, swiping my hands in wide movements to knock more than one or two vampires off their feet.
But I’m tearing myself apart with each scream. I won’t last like this forever. My knee buckles, part due to exhaustion, part due to hopelessness.
Between two screams, I dare call for her again. “Vanessa, please!”
She doesn’t move, doesn’t end the worg and return to reality, to me.
I whimper, my throat so sore that I sense the end of my power is upon us. It doesn’t matter. I’d scream every bit of myself to protect her. It’s a fact as much as any of my visions.
She’s his daughter, Sal Rivera’s daughter. Mom always said she owed him so much. Now that she’s gone, that debt is up to me to repay.
These realizations build up my strength, but also kindle my anger. I will not go down, no matter how many cold ones are upon us.
The next scream I let out is a deep, guttural groan of distilled rage. It hits the cold ones, wild and misdirected. It is not meant to push them back. No, this one is meant to hurt. To pop. To destroy.
One by one, their noses drip blood. Some of the vampires fall to the ground, hands on their ears, fighting the sound threatening to burst their drums.
I hold out for as long as I can, my face growing red, my lungs struggling as the lack of air strangles me. It’s only when my vision starts swimming that I pant for breath and lean over, palms digging into the dark soil.
My head is spinning. Is this my enhanced power after linking to Jean? I wasn’t capable of this before, I don’t think.
I must be imagining it, but gold dust seems to float around me. I gasp in confusion, then throw a look over my shoulder. It can’t be a hunter’s grenade or some gold weapon. Or am I imagining this in my woozy state?
When my eyes land on Vanessa, the gold dust gravitates to her. It is me doing this.
Like a rope of molten gold, a link extends from me and grips her. Vanessa’s eyes close and snap open in wonder and dismay.
My heart booms in my chest as I make sense of the sight. I’ve seen it before. Only, when Jean fed on me, I deemed it a side effect of the bite’s sway. It wasn’t. It was a link. It was the moment we formed the bond.
Vanessa winks and giggles. “I knew you’d care.”
The link bursts, covering us in gold dust as my heart swoops. “What?” I snap. The golden particles dissolve into thin air. In another moment, there’s none left in my field of vision—no barrier to hide Vanessa from my glare. “Did you trick me into defending you?”
The cold ones are silent around us. Without looking at them, I know their leader must be giving them a signal to halt.
“Could you hear me during your worg?”
I’m not angry, exactly. That moment when I realized I’d go down swinging, fighting for Vanessa until I no longer could, was enough to foreshadow I’d never despise her again. But shame and betrayal worm their way through me. Am I so easy to fool?
Vanessa’s lips part, but her eyes glint with defiance. “I tested you, all right? Wanted to see if you’d protect me. I wasn’t sure... I could only hope you’d...”
“Bind us,” I finish for her.
I should have weighed the risks better, knowing who I’d asked for help. Neither she nor the wolves would ever resist the opportunity to join the circle. With that realization, all violent emotion whooshes out of me, leaving room only for my guilt. I swore I wouldn’t do this again.
“Don’t be mad, all right,” Vanessa says tentatively. “I won’t let you down.”
Slow clapping makes us both turn to the cold ones’ leader.
“Bravo,” he bellows. “Bravo, ladies. Quite impressive.”
Vanessa and I stand up, ready to fight. The fallout from our link can wait.
“The others are trapped in a cave,” Vanessa whispers to me. “His followers are waiting for Charity’s charm to fall.”
I issue a curt nod, then focus on the cold one again.
But he’s heard our exchange. “To sum it all up, every vampire out here follows my lead.” His use of vampire instead of cold one doesn’t escape my attention. “I have Jean, tucked safely away. And I have your friends backed into a corner.”
In a commotion, a few cold ones step out from the bushes, holding Seff and Fillan. The wolves’ hands are restrained behind their backs. A girl with black lipstick runs her hand through Seff’s sandy hair and pulls it back.
“What do you want?” I snarl at their leader so viciously that Fillan lets out a dark chuckle. He pays for it by having his arms pulled back with even more force.
“To have a chat.” He flashes me a dangerous smile. “It could be quite lovely. Let’s say we pick up your friends—before they’ve been drained of their blood, preferably—then head over to the castle where you can meet Jean and tell us all about your lovely new circle. Sounds good?”
Vanessa stomps a step closer to him. “How about I curse your entire lot instead?” She snatches a bag of salts from her belt and dangles it in front of him.
“Do that,” he says with a shrug. “And you’d be committing Jean to the same fate you choose for us. I doubt you know everyone’s names.” He sneers. “So you’d be forced to send the curse upon everyone in my employ.” He forms a fist with his left hand and turns it so we can see the jester’s hat tattoo on the back of his hand. “Did I mention Jean’s got one of these now?”
On instinct, I reach out a hand in front of Vanessa. We can’t risk it.
“We’ll come with you,” I say. “Provided you let the wolves go right now, command your vampires to not touch a hair on our friends’ heads...” I hesitate only for a split second, wondering if my demands are too brash. “And provided you agree to discuss Jean’s release from your employ.”
He smiles, unimpressed. One nod to the side, and Seff and Fillan are released.
The cold one’s leader steps closer to me with devilish amusement. “My vampires obey me only as far as they can hear me. If you want your friends to live, I suggest we all make a run for it.”
Chapter 10. Mason
I DON’T THINK I’VE known stress or true tension before this moment. We’re trapped in a cavern as big as an elongated room. No less than twenty ravenous cold ones follow our every move, and a shield holds in place only because of the burning bundles of herbs Charity replaces every so often.
“Last ones,” she whispers.
Awan stuffs his mouth with all the food he could find in our bags. “Replenishing the protector.” He responds to Bryar’s incredulous look.
My mind is buffering, imagining what will happen to us once the charm goes down. Soon.
I check my phone for signal again, but I don’t have reception inside the cave. “All right, listen up. We’ll need a distraction once the shield goes down.” I unzip my bag to show them the vervain grenade, carefully concealing it from the cold ones. “We’ll also need a way to push out of here, to disperse them.”
Awan swallows a bite from his crudely made sandwich—thick slices of white bread, mayo, lettuce and smoked turkey, by the smell of it. “Working on getting the protector ready.” His lips wrinkle as he makes a face. “But there are too many of them. Even if Charity hits them with occasional shields, it will be hard to escape.”
“I know.” I go through the only plan I’ve concocted in the long hours we’ve stayed trapped in here. “We only need to get a head start so I can call for help.”
Charity tilts her head, looking at me with suspicion. “Not the hunters!”
“Yes, the hunters,” I say. “Do you see another way out of this?”
“Who are the hunters?” Bryar asks, but none of us answers her.
“They’d never get here in time.” Awan shakes his head.
Charity does the same. “No. Involving the hunters will only antagonize them, and we’ve got enough of that as it is.”
“Who are these hunters?” Bryar asks, louder this time.
We refuse to respond again. Somewhere in the distance, a lightning strikes. The drum of raindrops fills me with dread. It builds and builds until the rain outside turns into a curtain, drenching the cold ones staring at us with wicked smiles.
“We have to run back to the border. They won’t dare attack once we’re under the cover of the haze,” Charity says in a whisper.
There’s no time for any of us to argue. The rain splatters the herbs in mud. Charity’s charm blinks in and out a few times before twinkling out of existence.
The cold ones sneer at us—all young faces, teens and some in their twenties. Finger on the vervain grenade’s trigger, I try to figure out who’s in charge among them. No such luck. As one, they dash for us, so I throw the grenade.
Purple smoke whizzes out. In a flash of amber light, Awan produces his protector. The bronze cat barrels through the cold ones, pushing them down and into the vervain smoke. He opens a path for us to escape.
I have no delusions. Our feeble attack won’t stall them for more than a minute, but we run as fast as we can.
“Take cover in the forest,” I pant. Bryar is on my heels, but Awan has stayed back, waiting for Charity.
Before I can rush to the first line of bushes at the foot of the forest, more cold ones appear between the trees. My throat bobs painfully. We’re surrounded.
One of them walks ahead, shouting something. He must be their leader. His clothes are nearly ruined finery. His tanned skin and dark hair make him seem too healthy and normal-looking for a cold one.
The vampires from the cave catch up to us. Their leader shouts, but no matter what he’s saying, they’re too ravenous to obey. They launch at us.
That’s when the scream hits like a wave. It turns the sheets of rain into a funnel, splashing rainwater in a mad twister.
I crouch, one knee digging into the mud. Bryar squeezes my shoulder as she sinks to the ground with me. The cold ones are swept away by the sound wave.
Cami stomps out of the forest, catching up to their leader. A sulk is etched into her lips. “You promised.”
Magically magnified, her voice rings in my ears, and I suppose in everyone else’s, too.
The muddied aristocrat of a vampire smiles viciously, making my fists clench.
“Now, now, friends.” He spreads his arms out as he speaks, like he’s on the Titanic. The artistry in his movements is idiotic. “The banshee and her friends are under my protection, for now. They wish to visit our beautiful home. Let us be humble, lovely hosts.”
The whimsy doesn’t fool me. His subordinates look murderous, although they don’t dare to disobey him.
I rush to him and Cami, spinning her around, wishing for any semblance of privacy. “Cami, what have you done?”
“More than she’s told you, I bet.” The vampire chuckles. I want to knock his teeth in.
Cami casts a firm but cautious look at him. “This doesn’t concern the hunters.” She glances past me to Bryar, who seems to have followed me. “Let them return to Elmwick safely.”
A wicked, crooked smile blooms on the vampire’s lips. “That wasn’t a part of the deal, dear banshee. They come with us, especially now that I see the hold they’ve got on you. Oh, cheer up,” he adds as Cami gapes in horror. “You can’t be the only one with leverage. That’s not how fruitful negotiations work.”
With an over-exaggerated gesture, he whips his hand down as he bows to Cami. “Shall we?”
WHATEVER THEIR LEADER says, and despite his obvious flair for the dramatic, the cold ones are cranky as we hike back to their place. The leader nudges Cami ahead as if not noticing their sullen glares and turns around to throw a look at me from time to time, his grin always wide.
I keep Bryar at my side, afraid to let her out of my sight again, but she seems to be done running away and going rogue. She’s back to chatty, gossipy Bryar.
“This is epic,” she says to no one in particular, though Charity and Awan balk at her.
The Valtyk twins snort from behind us, and Vanessa asks, “What is?”
“Well, all the supernatural powers, of course.” Bryar smiles, apparently not bothered that we’re still surrounded by the same cold ones that wanted to tear us to bits. “Awan has a protector. Charity can do the whole whoosh-whoosh thing.”
She demonstrates, mimicking the movements Charity used to create the shield. “Cami. Wow. She’s got quite a voice packed in for such a small girl. Wicked. And you two.” She whirls around to face the twins, pacing backwards not to miss their expressions when she says her piece. “You’re wolves. I thought maybe there was a pack of wolves in the woods, but it turns out they were... ugh... vampires.” She whispers the last word conspiratorially, as if we hadn’t all witnessed the same fight.
“What do you do?” She nods at Vanessa.
“Keep asking. If someone answers you, we’ll have a front-row seat to the demonstration.” Vanessa’s voice is chilly.
“I bet it’s something evil, like you’d curse me or something,” Bryar says with a smirk, but we all stiffen a bit. She doesn’t miss the confirmation in our reactions and bursts out laughing. “Seriously? That was too easy!”
“You’ll need to be a lot more cautious in front of non-legacies,” Vanessa bites back.
Bryar rolls her eyes at me, but I pull her by the hand. “Seriously, Bryar. Knowing all of this is dangerous. Once we get back, you need to keep it a secret.”
“Oh, I’ve seen so many people keep this secret that I’m sure I’ve learned how to do it myself.” Her voice turns spiteful. “You and Mom and Dad must all be members of that enlightened little club.” Then a realization seems to cross her face. “Wait. Wait. So if they all have powers, then what about us?” She elbows me to the ribs. “What do we do?”
I only knit my eyebrows at her, but the twins roar in laughter.
“What?” Bryar snaps at them.
Vanessa produces a small chuckle. “You don’t have powers. The only ability you have is intuition—same as all other humans. If you use it well, it leads you to us.”
Her words wash over me, sinking, intertwining with what Father said the night of Cami’s Claiming. Could Father know something even the legacies don’t? The question sears through my chest, but I quell it with a cleansing breath.
Now that Bryar knows about the legacies, it’s even more important to remain inconspicuous. If Father was worried about me, he’d be terrified about Bryar. He and I both.
My sister seems crestfallen the rest of the way through the murky forest. The rainfall slows, but we’ll catch a cold in our drenched clothes if our destination isn’t close.
At long last, a wave of murmurs passes through the cold ones. When their home comes into view, I balk in surprise.
It’s a castle, but only for lack of a better word. The derelict structure spans on two levels—no turrets and no actual windows for that matter, only gaping openings that let out candlelight, the ones that aren’t draped over. The castle rests on a hill, so that the stone wall surrounding it looks like a thin circle at its foundation.
To complete the medieval look, a deep trench surrounds the castle wall.
The cold ones’ leader picks up a torch hidden in the shrubbery, lights it up with a match and starts waving in a coded pattern. Seconds later, the wooden bridge lowers to let us pass over the trench.
I look around at the others’ faces as we stomp down the jittery wooden bridge. Cami scans the surroundings, noting the exits or lack thereof. Seff meets my gaze as a muscle on his cheek ticks. I’m not the only one who thinks entering this place is tempting fate.
The bridge lifts when the last cold ones have cro
ssed over, magnifying the feeling that we’re sealed in. We walk up the cobbled path to the castle in near silence. It looks even older up close. Moss colors the stone walls. From a distance, this place could easily get mistaken for a ruin.
Heavy gates pull apart to welcome us. The red velvet carpet seems a bit much. It’s not like it could, alone, make the castle seem luxurious.
The entrance hall is long and framed by the faint light of torches. Bryar shivers next to me. A stone palace is a bad place to be on a cold and rainy spring afternoon.
The corridor leads us to a square foyer with a dual staircase climbing up to a balcony that frames the second floor.
“So,” Cami’s voice rings clear, “I assume you need to inform the Jesters of our agreement?”
The cold one’s lips curve into a crooked smile. “Did I not make that clear earlier? My apologies.”
He snaps his fingers. Two girls in Renaissance-style, worn-out dresses rush up to him. One plants a jester’s hat on his head, while the other hands him a golden scepter.
“I’m Jester, lord of Jester’s Castle.” His eyes twinkle with devious delight. “At your service.”
Chapter 11. Cami
“DON’T YOU HAVE A NORMAL name?” I frown, even though it’s rude, especially since Jester has bowed to me at least three times already.
His expression sours. “When the town of Elmwick was founded, a Duke and Duchess of the old world moved their estate here. They were foolish enough to employ a cold one as their Jester, which resulted, as you might have guessed, in their quick demise and the appointment of their Jester as the ruler of the estate. I uphold that proud tradition.” He singsongs through the explanation with a casual tone.
Mason glares at him. “So, the point is, your ancestors stole this castle?”
“The point,” Jester corrects with a chilly voice, “Is that this castle is always ruled by a Jester. Any other name is utterly inconsequential.”
He glowers back at Mason, making me want to jump between them to prevent a fight from breaking out.
Suspension (Elmwick Academy Book 2) Page 7