by A A Mize
“Do you really think Artashir needs protection? He’s nearly seven feet tall and has an ax. I think he can handle himself. Besides, Samson and Goliath are dead. They were the biggest physical threats.”
“Perhaps Sophie should stay here, in case Yvette returns. I’m too weak to fend her off and my poor Sarah is still unconscious,” Samiell stated carefully and Sophie wondered if he was picking up in her suspicion.
“You would allow a human to protect you? Yvette wants her dead, not you. If she did, you’d be nothing but a mangled corpse right now. I want her with me,” Rowan replied firmly. “Come, Sophie.”
Sophie peered back at Samiell, who met her gaze with uncertainty.
Rowan’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly then he turned his back and began to walk down the hallway to the east wing. He didn’t seem to care much if Sophie followed or not. She hesitated only a moment before falling into place behind him, taking some comfort in the pistol at her side.
“We’ll start at the far end. If they’re here, I’d rather push them back toward the foyer,” Rowan said.
“Can’t you just try to do your mind reading thing and search for them that way?” Sophie asked, a little skeptical of the man before her. There was always a chance that it was Yvette, but how could she be certain?
“It doesn’t work like that,” he replied dryly. “If it did, I never would have let you set foot in this house. I would have known where she and Samson were hiding and found them immediately. We wouldn’t have had to search upstairs at all. Sadly, I have to be close to someone to read their mind.”
Sophie’s eyes shifted up Rowan’s back to his ink-black hair, swaying gently as he walked. It looked like Rowan. Talked like him, walked like him, even smelled like him. So why couldn’t she shake the feeling that something was wrong?
“I’m not Yvette,” he said out of nowhere, rounding on her at the end of the hall so fast she ran into him, her face smacking him in the middle of his chest.
Sophie jumped back, clearly startled, hand on her weapon. Her heart beat wildly, attesting to her paranoia. Rowan looked down on her without a hint of expression.
“If you think I’m her, kill me,” he said, motioning toward the gun, but Sophie didn’t move. He reached down and grabbed her hand, forcing her to draw the weapon and he placed the barrel to his head, right between his deep brown eyes. “If you’re certain that I’m her, then do it.”
Sophie’s hand trembled, Rowan’s eyes boring into hers from around the gun. They stood in silence for what felt an eternity, her mind racing with every possibility. Did she really think Rowan was Yvette in disguise? Did she have enough proof or was it all just paranoia messing with her perception? How could she be certain? Even if it was Yvette, could Sophie kill her while she looked like Rowan?
“I don’t have all night, Sophie. Make up your mind.”
“I... I don’t think you’re her,” she said, less than confident in her statement. Rowan released her hand and she slowly slipped the gun back into the waistband of her pants.
“We’ll start here,” he turned and entered a room as if nothing had even happened.
Sophie followed him into a large library. Two rows of research tables stood to the left and right of a wide walkway, each with fresh paper and a jar of pens. Bookshelves so tall they needed ladders lined every wall except the one opposite the door, where a massive stained-glass window recorded the battle between the archangel Michael and the dragon. Sophie gaped in awe at the sight of the golden-winged angel, spear in hand, the writhing dragon at his feet, moments from death.
Caught up in the beauty of the stained-glass backlit by the light of a full moon, she didn’t even hear the door close behind her until the lock clicked. She whipped around toward the door where Rowan stood with his back to her, his hand slipping a key into his pocket.
“Sophie...” he said, his voice nearly a whisper as he turned to her. “I need to talk to you.”
Rowan came ever closer, backing her into one of the tables. Her breath caught in her throat when he pressed against her, a hand brushing her hair away from her shoulder neck. Something was wrong.
“Do you love me?” he asked, his eyes still trailing from the curve of her neck up to her jaw, then to her eyes.
“What?” Sophie choked, realizing that she had been deceived. Rowan would never behave like that toward her. He would never push himself on her. Memories of the night Yvette had disguised herself as Matthias and attacked her rushed back. The behavior was the same. The question was the same.
“I asked if you love me. It’s a simple question, with a simple answer,” he said, running his thumb across her lips.
“It’s not simple at all,” Sophie replied, trying to figure a way out. Yvette knew she had a gun and she knew that Sophie was vulnerable to Rowan. She would have to keep calm and try not to let Yvette know that she was aware of the trap. She needed to draw the pistol and kill Yvette. But could she do it when her enemy held the face of someone she loved?
Rowan leaned in, his words a cool breath on her shoulder. “If you love me, then stay with me.”
“You know I can’t,” Sophie said, slipping away from him awkwardly and walking across the room to another table, bracing herself on it. It was dangerous to keep her back to him, but she felt it might better convince Yvette that she was still unaware.
“Why not?”
“We’ve discussed this,” Sophie continued, her eyes cut far to the side, listening for any movement from behind. She hoped to draw Yvette out and get a good shot on her, but she had to be careful. Screaming for help would only get her killed before the others could reach her. She had to be patient, even if her hands were shaking.
In a flurry of movement, Rowan shot across the room at her. The barrel of the gun had only just cleared the top of her jeans when a heavy blow connected with the side of her head, sending her sprawling to the floor, the pistol clattering away into the darkness. The table scraped back across the floor, pens and paper falling all around.
Rowan sat on Sophie’s hips, one hand on her throat as the other drew back for another punch, face contorting with rage. His fist came crashing down but as it did, Sophie grabbed one of the fountain pens that had been knocked off of the table in their struggle and stabbed her assailant’s side, feeling the metal tipped pen embed itself between his ribs.
He groaned, hands snapping to the fountain pen, releasing Sophie long enough for her to roll over and scramble away. She spotted the gun under a nearby table and made a move for it. Rowan ripped the pen from his side and threw it across the room with an angry snarl before he was after Sophie again. Her fingers grazed the barrel of the gun before she was snatched back by her ankle.
Pain blazed through her calf as Rowan’s fangs sank deep into the flesh. She cried out, kicking at him. Her heel slammed into his face, tearing his fangs from her leg. Dark eyes glared up at her, fading to a brilliant blue as Yvette shifted back to her true form, fangs dripping with Sophie’s blood. The bombshell blonde stood slowly, Rowan’s clothing now loose fitting on her smaller frame.
Sophie scrambled forward painfully, snatched the gun up from under the table and aimed at Yvette with shaky hands and pulled the trigger. Yvette cried out in pain as the bullet tore into her shoulder, leaving a gaping hole on the other side.
“Silver?” she asked, stumbling into a table.
“You won’t torment him anymore,” Sophie said, backing away quickly. Her hip bumped another desk and she stumbled, knocking over another jar of pens. This time the glass shattered on the floor and the pens rolled all over.
She knew the wound wouldn’t heal quickly enough to keep Yvette from bleeding to death. After the gunshot the others would surely come to her aid. All she had to do was hold out until they arrived, but Yvette wasn’t going to make it easy.
“I’ll kill you for this!” Her eyes flashed red as the once beautiful blonde screamed in fury.
Yvette cleared the distance between them faster than Sophie could react, h
er hand colliding with Sophie’s cheek. Her head whipped to the side and her vision filled with stars as her cheek was sliced open by claw-like nails. Blood trickled down Sophie’s jaw as the two women struggled for possession of the gun.
Yvette’s strength allowed her to keep one hand on the pistol and the other free to assault Sophie in any way she deemed fit. It was all Sophie could do it keep her hands tight on the gun, forcing the barrel away from herself as Yvette delivered a crushing blow to her ribs, eliciting a snap as they broke.
As loud as she could, Sophie called out for Rowan, the pain in her chest becoming excruciating with every breath. His name only escaped her lips twice before Yvette backhanded her again, splitting her lip open.
“I’ll kill you right in front of him if I have to,” Yvette hissed, the barrel of the gun tilting toward Sophie. A sly grin twisted the corners of her lips, tainted red with blood. Her tongue slid across her fangs as she pushed the gun farther down.
Footsteps could be heard fast approaching and Yvette threw her head back in laughter, ready to pull the trigger as soon as Rowan entered. Her own life was quickly fading, but she would take Sophie with her.
Sophie saw her chance and took it. One of the many fountain pens that had been knocked onto the floor lay within her reach. In a last attempt to save herself, Sophie let go of the gun with one hand and snatched up the pen, driving it into Yvette’s neck. She screeched in pain and rage as blood spurted from the wound. She lunged down toward Sophie, fangs ready for the kill when Sophie pulled the trigger.
Even with her eyes closed tight, Sophie still knew the bullet had struck its intended target. Warm blood rained down on her face and Yvette’s body slumped to the side, falling to the floor with a dull thump as Artashir broke down the door with one strike of his boot.
Rowan rushed over the fallen door to Sophie’s side. He pulled her away from Yvette’s body while Horus checked the blonde over. There was no need. She was dead.
“You’re alright. It’s over,” Rowan whispered, using his sleeve to wipe the blood from Sophie’s face. She clung to him, relieved that her struggle with Yvette was over.
“Rowan? Is she…” Matthias knelt beside them.
“Sophie?”
“What’s wrong?” she mumbled, looking up at Rowan from her place on his lap. She looked around at the others, their solemn expressions making her second guess what had happened. “I didn’t mean to kill her. She attacked me, and I had to defend myself.”
What if she had done wrong by killing Yvette, even by accident? She thought that was the plan anyway, so why were they all staring at her? Her attention began to drift to the lifeless body of Yvette, but Matthias’s hand on her cheek brought her gaze back to him.
“You did good, Soph. We knew it would have to come to this,” he said.
“Then...what’s wrong?” she asked, her anxiety rising, her fingers gripping Rowan’s shirt behind his back.
“There’s a chance that when you killed Yvette, her blood entered some of your wounds,” Rowan explained as calmly as he could.
“No,” Sophie shook her head in disbelief, making another attempt to sit up on her own the pain from her injuries an afterthought to her disbelief and denial. “You’re wrong.”
“I wish we were. Her blood is all over you. I’m sorry, Sophie, but the chances that her blood didn’t enter your system are slim.”
“We’ll know shortly, one way or another,” Samiell said.
Artashir set his ax down gently as he lowered himself to the floor. The massive man sat cross- legged near Sophie, concentrating on using his talent as an empath to alter the emotional state of the others in the room.
“What’s going to happen now?” Sophie asked.
“If we’re right and her blood did enter you, very soon now you will die and be reborn as a Turned,” Rowan said.
“I know it’s hard, Soph. But we’ll be right here with you,” Matthias assured her, wiping a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “Don’t worry, it won’t hurt. Promise. But you’ll wanna lie down.”
Sophie hesitated. If for no other reason than exhaustion and pain, she decided to lie down. She’d just lie back and sleep and when she woke, everything would go back to normal. That was her hope, and yet there was a feeling down deep in her gut that this hope was false, seeded by denial.
Rowan pulled her back into his lap, guiding her head to rest against his shoulder. The sharp pain she had felt in her ribs only moments before had begun to fade and she found her body growing more and more tired. Was she really dying and being Turned, just as they said she would be? The realization that they could be right about her own impending death brought tears she couldn’t control. Her own natural emotions fought with the feeling of the false calm Artashir was creating.
“It’s going to be okay,” Matthias whispered, stroking her hair gently.
“I’m sorry,” was all Rowan could muster.
Her fingers gripped his hair tighter behind his back. Her eyes became less focused, feeling heavy. She felt as if she was fading into sleep before her hand fell to the floor, body going limp in his arms as she drew her final breath. She was gone, and yet her eyes still lingered on Rowan’s face, cold and emotionless. Matthias reached over and closed them, an end to her human life.
54
Hours passed, and the house had grown quiet as its residents retired for the day once the sun began to rise. After Yvette’s death, they had spent six hours with the NOPD and the Elders cleaning up the mess and retelling their stories. There was still much to be done, but by the time the authorities left the old mansion, they agreed that whatever was left to do could wait until they’d had time to sleep.
Sophie was silent and still, lying peacefully on the bed in the room she had occupied for the past few days. Sarah had come back to consciousness not long after sunrise and had cleaned Sophie up before heading off to bed to recover from her attack.
Rowan had taken a place nearby Sophie’s bed in an overstuffed chair, a book from Samiell’s private library held open on his lap. He skimmed over the words, paying them little attention as his mind was overrun with other thoughts.
The bodies of the Samson and of Yvette had been removed and in the coming days all signs of their plight would be scrubbed clean of the manor. No longer would Rowan dread Yvette’s presence. No longer would he have to suffer those gray days, tainted by her memory. Her hold on him was gone forever, all because of Sophie. She had saved him when Samson and Goliath nearly killed him, and then she had freed him of Yvette. But what did she have to show for it? A life ripped away too soon? A future she didn’t want for herself?
“Are you sure she’s going to be okay?” Matthias asked from the bed where he lay beside Sophie, his voice interrupting his Mentor’s train of thought.
“Of course,” Rowan replied, closing the book to observe his young Pupil. “She will wake when the sun sets.”
Matthias didn’t look convinced. He laid his head on the pillow beside Sophie’s watching her for any sign of life. Perhaps he was only curious about his own beginnings.
Matthias should have already known these things. He should have known the process of Turning someone. It was Rowan’s fault that he didn’t. Of the many things he had taught Matthias, the act of Turning a human had been far from what he deemed important. It never occurred to him that Matthias hadn’t been Turned by normal means and therefore inherently knew nothing about how the transformation happened.
Rowan observed his Pupil with Sophie. It was easy for Mathias to be affectionate toward others. He laid in bed with Sophie’s body, one arm over her, waiting as patiently as he could manage.
“She really cares about you,” Matthias blurted out.
Rowan stared at him blankly. Matthias didn’t return his gaze, however, he simply kept watching Sophie as if he hadn’t said anything at all. So much had happened since she arrived and much more was unsaid between them. Of course, he had suspected she cared for him but hearing it from someone else made it far
more tangible.
“You don’t have to say anything. I know you’re shit at that kinda thing.” Matthias said. “But I think deep down you care about her, too. Whatever is blocking you from telling her how you feel, you need to get over it and be open with her. She’s going to need you now.”
“No. She needs you, Matthias,” Rowan replied, beginning to open his book again to give himself a way out of the conversation. Halfway through the action he stopped. There he was, avoiding what made him uncomfortable again instead of doing what he knew needed to be done. Saying what he knew needed to be said.
“You know it’s not the same. She needs you to be her Mentor. I didn’t choose this life and neither did she. You need to be different with her.”
Matthias was right. Rowan would have to be different with Sophie. More compassionate, more understanding. He would have to put aside his own selfish ways and be the Mentor she deserved. The Mentor Matthias deserved. It was almost too late for him to be better for Matthias, but he had the opportunity to be better for Sophie from the start.
“What will you call her?” Matthias asked, rising from the bed.
“Evangeline,” Rowan said.
“Maybe...maybe just let her keep her name. She’s losing everything else. Maybe you should let her keep something. At least think on it. I’m going to bed. Let me know when she’s awake.” Matthias said as he started toward the door.
“Matthias?”
“Hm?”
“I’m sorry. I know I’ve not been the best Mentor to you. I’ve made mistakes with training you. More than that, I left you to your own devices. I never asked you how you were Turned or tried to help you cope with it. Maybe if I had been there for you as I should have been, none of this would have happened,” Rowan said, setting his book on the bed beside Sophie. He had to own up to his place in this mess. His neglect of Matthias and his weakness with Yvette had been the root of the entire scenario.
“Next time, don’t date the crazy chick. No matter how hot she is.” The corners of Matthias’s lips curled upward in a sly grin.