Bleeding Misery (Threatening Souls Book 2)

by N. M. Lambert

  As soon as she deposited her assignment in the room reserved for Eternal Division, Andre began to move down the hallway towards the elevator. The penthouse suites rested a floor above her, and a few of them had been reserved for the chaperones and royal family. Yet, as Andre reached the elevator, she heard someone call her name, and she briskly spun around, coming face-to-face with Courtney. “What do you want?” she spat and then cringed at how harsh she sounded.

  Determination was etched into Courtney’s features. “I heard what happened.”

  “Everyone heard what happened,” Andre pointed out.

  Courtney pressed her lips into a thin line. “What were you thinking?” she prattled. “This is why I should’ve—”

  “You only wanted to escort them because of the difficulty level,” Andre said coldly, “not because you knew something like this would happen. Which, by the way, would’ve happened regardless of whether or not you were the one escorting them.”

  Courtney had the audacity to look wounded. “That’s not true!”

  “Is it?” Andre pestered. “Why did you choose this assignment, Courtney? Why, when you have no ties to any of them?”

  Courtney curled her hands into fists. “The difficulty level played a part, yes.”

  Andre felt a surge of triumph flood her veins, until Courtney continued.

  “However, I also wanted to observe you!”

  Silence permeated the air.

  “You wanted to observe me,” Andre repeated monotonously.

  “Aaron mentions you all the time!” Courtney spat. “And Reilly, god, you would think that boy was fucking obsessed! I wanted to see for myself what the fuss was about! And I’m sorry to say I’m not at all impressed!”

  That was the final straw, and before Andre knew what she was doing, she punched Courtney. The impact resulted in a loud crack as bone shattered, and soon, blood was pouring out of Courtney’s nose. Splatters of blood coated Andre’s fist, and her eyes widened in disbelief. She didn’t think; she just acted. Like I did with Dimitri.

  Courtney clutched her bleeding, more-than-likely broken nose as blood stained her fingers. She stared daggers at Andre. “You just proved my point,” she snarled. “You’re too unstable. You rarely think!” And then, she sauntered off, but not before delivering one final blow to Andre’s self-esteem. “I’m escorting the two Eternal Division participants to the meeting tomorrow. Obviously, you’re too unstable to properly protect them.”

  Magic flared to life in Andre’s veins, itching for release, and she wanted more than anything to send it into Courtney’s system. She wanted to make Courtney suffer, and she nearly did, but as the magic leaked out of her, she realized what she was about to do, and she tamped it down. Again, her immortal side sang with the promise of bloodshed, but she snuffed it out.

  Courtney was wrong. If Andre didn’t have any self-control, Courtney would be dead.

  CHAPTER

  EIGHT

  Jeffery: London, England

  T

  wo days had passed since Jeffery arrived in London with his family, and he had spent most of it sequestered in a hotel room with his mother breathing down his neck while his father attended to the business of the ICW. Though neither of his parents outright said it, the freedoms he enjoyed before he was taken were long gone, and seldom was he allowed to be alone.

  The night before, his parents had invited Kat over for a private dinner, the only chaperone they did so with. Seeing them fawn over her and her supposed bravery made Jeffery feel sick to the point where he had to excuse himself so he could throw up his meal. Kat made him uncomfortable, though of course he couldn’t say anything, given the enthrallment Henri forced him into. And nothing he was allowed to say would make his parents favor Kat less.

  “Jeffery,” his mother said suddenly, breaking him out of his thoughts. She took a seat next to him on the pull-out couch and clutched his mutilated hand. Neither of his parents asked about his missing pinky or the blistering scabs that covered his other hand, but he knew they had noticed his wounds. And he knew they suspected Henri had tortured him with more to show for it than just his physical wounds. Yet, none of them knew the truth, that Henri made Jeffery cut off his own pinky, that Kat made him burn his own hand.

  “How are you doing?” his mother asked him, the standard question she asked multiple times a day now.

  And every single time Annabelle asked him how he was doing, Jeffery wanted to tell her the truth. He wanted to tell her that he feared for his life and the lives of those around him, that he was a danger to them because of his forced enthrallment, and that Kat was not who she appeared to be. Then, they could figure out how to break Henri’s spell, and he could finally be free. But of course, he could tell her none of that aside from, “I’m scared.”

  Annabelle pulled Jeffery into a tight hug. “You’re safe now,” she said. “We won’t let him hurt you again.”

  But it didn’t matter whether or not they could protect him from falling into Henri’s clutches again, not when he was still caught in Henri’s snare. He knew the immortal warlock was watching him, knew Henri could enter his mind whenever and see everything through his eyes. And he pictured Henri laughing maniacally as those around him were soon caught in Henri’s expanding web.

  Annabelle broke the embrace. “We leave in thirty minutes for the ICW meeting,” she said. And then, she wordlessly left his side as she went to rejoin her husband at the small dining table.

  Jeffery left the couch and wandered into his hotel bedroom, shutting the door behind him. With wards encompassing the entire hotel, the only place Jeffery was permitted to be alone was his temporary room. It was there where he sat on the edge of his bed, blankly staring at the wall in front of him.

  And it was also there where he felt the invisible claws of Henri’s magic latch onto his brain. Henri was always there, a silent observer in the back of Jeffery’s mind. And yet, the claws felt different, as if they were forcing themselves inside his brain, as if they were—

  Jeffery picked up the nearest sharp object—a pencil—and rammed the point through his palm and out the other side. He opened his mouth to scream as blood squirted out the freshly made hole, and yet no sound came out as if someone had stolen his voice, albeit temporarily.

  And then, Henri’s infamous voice spilled into his mind with a single word. “Interesting.”

  Jeffery gritted his teeth as he pulled the pencil out of his hand, hissing in pain. Again, he opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

  “I can hear your thoughts,” Henri said, and Jeffery realized with sickening dread that Henri had stolen his voice so he couldn’t cry out for help, that Henri somehow commanded him to do something without a single word. “Speak to me through them.”

  Still seething, Jeffery demanded, “What do you want?”

  Henri didn’t answer him right away. “I’m testing some things,” he soon replied. “Like, for instance, I don’t have to verbally command you to do anything, not when I can take over your mind.”

  Jeffery froze. One of his Witchcraft Academy classes once taught him about the enthrallment bond and what it had been used for in the past. Yet, it never delved into how parasitic such a bond was, how it granted the caster complete dominion over the victim’s mind.

  “Your parents care for you a lot,” Henri observed, and if Jeffery didn’t know any better, he would have thought there was a hint of sorrow in Henri’s voice.

  “They’ll find out what you did to me,” Jeffery seethed as he wrapped his bleeding hand in his shirt to stop the flow. “They’ll find out about Kat.”

  Something in Henri’s mood shifted, and soon, Jeffery found himself digging his nails deep into his skin, his hand trembling from the amount of unnatural pressure as blood welled to the surface. Once again, he tried to scream, but no sound came out.

  “You will not threaten me, Jeffery,” Henri said, and only then did he allow Jeffery to stop. “Not when I hold all the power.”

  Jeff
ery gritted his teeth. “I will not bow down to you.”

  And then, Henri said something that chilled Jeffery. “You already have, whether or not you admit it to yourself.”

  Jeffery felt the claws retract as Henri’s presence dissipated from his mind. Suddenly, his voice returned, and he let out a cry of anguish as he collapsed onto his bed in a bloody, maimed mess.

  ~~~

  Rebekah: London, England

  “You’re coming with me to the meeting!” Jamie loudly announced the next day, her eyes honed in on Rebekah. Soon, all eyes, not just Jamie’s, landed on her, most confused, but one pair—Teri’s—was full of malice and jealousy.

  Rebekah was just as shocked about this proclamation. After all, everyone assumed Jamie would take her second, Teri, and judging by the evident glare Teri held, she thought so too.

  Rebekah sat up on the couch in the shared living room of Eternal Division’s hotel suite. “Why?”

  Jamie gave an overexaggerated sigh as if the answer should be obvious. “Why wouldn’t it be you?”

  “I don’t know,” Rebekah said nonchalantly. “Perhaps because I’m not your second?”

  Jamie’s lips twitched, the only sign she gave to indicate Rebekah’s statement annoyed her. “Teri doesn’t mind!” She spun around on her too-long stiletto heels, finally acknowledging her second. “Don’t you, Teri?”

  And even though Teri obviously did mind, she said, “No. I don’t mind.”

  “See?” Jamie strutted over to the couch and plopped herself next to Rebekah, her too-short skirt bunching at the sides. She carelessly slung an arm around Rebekah’s shoulders as if they were best friends, which they weren’t.

  Rebekah attempted to shrug out of Jamie’s grasp. “Take Teri.”

  Jamie opened her mouth to protest, but before she could say anything, there was a soft knock at the door.

  Jamie instantly brightened, and she leapt off the couch. “That will be our chauffeur. Come on, Rebekah!” She gripped Rebekah’s arm and started to tug.

  “Chaperone!” Holly corrected, who was sitting at the small, circular dining table with a bowl of fruit she barely touched.

  Jamie rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Rebekah!”

  And because it was easier to give into what Jamie wanted than to fight her, Rebekah sighed as she got up from her seat on the couch.

  The chaperone who chose to accompany the two of them to the downstairs meeting was Courtney, much to Rebekah’s dismay. The witch looked like a completely different person from when Rebekah first met her. Anger radiated off her in waves, and there was a very prominent cast on her nose.

  “Where’s Andre?” Rebekah questioned, which she realized too late was the wrong thing to say.”

  “I’m accompanying you today,” Courtney snapped before leading them down the hallway towards the elevators.

  Beside Rebekah, Jamie snickered. “I wonder if Andre was the one who broke her nose.”

  Rebekah opened her mouth and then closed it. Even though she trusted Holly’s cousin, even she had to admit Jamie’s theory didn’t sound that far-fetched.

  As the trio entered the descending elevator with three other people, someone lightly tapped Rebekah on her shoulder. At first thinking it was Jamie, she spun around only to be met with the blonde hair, blue eyes, and pale complexion of one of the other clique participants.

  “Rebekah?” she questioned. “You are Rebekah, right?”

  Confusion swept across Rebekah’s face as she studied the other clique participant for recognition. After a while, she declared that she had not seen this girl before in her life and therefore had no idea how the girl would know her name. “Do I know you?”

  “No, you don’t,” she answered, shaking her head, “but you’re well-known where I’m from.”

  “How so?” questioned Rebekah, looking for a reason to believe this interaction was a joke.

  “With Roseway,” said the girl. “Word got around about that.”

  Rebekah felt her heart catch in her throat. First, there was Paige, and now, this girl Rebekah had never met before. Who else wasn’t affected by the false memories? she wondered. “There must be some sort of mistake.”

  The girl shook her head. “No mistake,” she said as she extended her right hand. “I’m Tatiana Andreivich, and this,” she motioned her head towards her companion, “is Natasha Alekseev.”

  Instantly, Rebekah knew they were a part of the Russian clique.

  Before she could say anything else, the doors to the elevator opened, and Jamie clasped a hand on her arm.

  “We don’t socialize with the enemy,” she said before pulling Rebekah away from Tatiana and Natasha.

  As Jamie pulled her off the elevator, Rebekah glanced back and offered Tatiana a sympathetic smile before finding herself in the lobby of the hotel.

  “Next time, do not speak to those we are competing against,” Jamie said. “Now, where is this meeting?”

  “Over there,” said Courtney as she led them across the lobby into a small room. “I’m assuming Jason will be along shortly.”

  Then, Courtney left the two of them and sat in the back with the other seven chaperones. Jamie chose a couple of seats in the middle row for them to sit, taking out a list of the cliques that were participating.

  Rebekah sat on Jamie’s right, leaving one empty seat to her own right. She glanced at the piece of paper, taking note that the other clique names were not written in English.

  “Those people that were talking to you, they were from Russia, right?” asked Jamie.

  “Yeah. Why?”

  Jamie handed Rebekah the list while pointing to one of the clique names. Rebekah glanced at the letters. The Cyrillic sparked faint recognition within her.

  Словацкий Лица

  “Do you know what it says?” asked Jamie.

  What makes you think I know Russian? Rebekah thought. Only once had she studied it, and that was back in Roseway. Even still, she remembered how to read the alphabet. “Slovatskiy Litsa. That’s how it’s pronounced.”

  “Yeah, but what does it mean?” questioned Jamie.

  Rebekah shrugged. “I’m assuming it’s Slavic something.”

  As soon as she said that, Rebekah noticed the emergence of who she presumed was the host of the ICW and his family. Jason positioned himself in front of the group, waiting for the crowd to settle down.

  “Who’s that?” Jamie wondered, her eyes obviously staring at someone.

  Rebekah followed her gaze and saw a boy about their age. “I don’t know,” she said, but she guessed that was Jeffery Speirs, someone who had been incarcerated by Henri for a while. He looks so troubled.

  “I feel like playing Match Maker,” said Jamie mischievously, “for Teri. She’s been wanting someone for a while now; what do you think?”

  “I…think…” Rebekah began as Jeffery briefly met her gaze, sending chills down her spine. Does he know who I am? she wondered, temporarily forgetting about Jamie’s question.

  “Yes?” Jamie prompted.

  Rebekah broke her gaze with Jeffery and turned towards Jamie. “What?”

  “Do you think he’s suitable for Teri?”

  Shocked, Rebekah glanced once again at Jeffery. He’s a warlock, she thought. Teri’s a human. Yet, her mouth betrayed her when she ended up saying, “Umm, sure.”

  Jamie’s facial expression brightened. “Really?”

  Oh god, why did I say that? Rebekah gulped. “Y-yes.”

  Jamie said nothing as a mischievous smile spread across her lips.

  Rebekah watched as Jason prepared to address the group. Yet, the others remained oblivious as they continued to chat excessively. Rebekah was rather annoyed with them, and as she tried to block out their sound, she heard the sound of someone take the empty seat next to her. Her assumption was that it was either Courtney or some human stranger, but as she glanced to her right, it was someone completely different.

  The other chaperone that was on the elevator ride with t
hem.

  “I need to talk to you,” the other chaperone said, staring straight ahead.

  Rebekah felt old fears resurface with the unfamiliar magic user, and as she looked at Jamie, she was shocked to find that Jamie waved her off.

  “See what she wants,” said Jamie.

  Rebekah didn’t particularly want to, but she knew that once Jason began to talk, she wouldn’t be able to leave the meeting room. She also knew that, judging by the tone in the chaperone’s voice, whatever she had to say was important.

  Without another thought and despite her body’s protests, she followed the other chaperone out of the meeting room and into one of the hallways on the ground floor of the hotel.

  “For a while,” the other chaperone began, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you. I know who you are.”

  “I…figured you would,” Rebekah stammered, barely forcing the words out.

  “Is that so?” The chaperone flipped her brown hair over her shoulders. “I know meeting like this isn’t…ideal, but there would have been no better time. You see, with my assignment, I would have found it difficult to talk to you later.”

  “But…why?”

  “I believe introductions are in order,” said the chaperone as she stuck out her right hand. “I already know your name, but you must know mine. It’s Kat.”

  Rebekah stared at the outstretched hand, and a feeling of dread overcame her. There was something not quite right about Kat, and she looked into the witch’s eyes, searching for any hint of yellow. Yet, Kat’s eyes were brown, which marked her as mortal, but Rebekah couldn’t stop feeling like something was off about her.

  Kat returned her hand to her side and narrowed her eyes. “I’m surprised Courtney is here instead of Andre, though I suppose after Andre broke her nose—”

  “What?” Rebekah said, not sure if she heard Kat correctly. She thought back to what Jamie said before the elevator, how Jamie joked about Andre breaking Courtney’s nose. Though apparently, Jamie’s theory rang true.

  “You didn’t know?” Kat said gleefully. “Andre’s always had a violence streak. Best not to rub her the wrong way.”