A Shade of Vampire 13: A Turn of Tides (13 page)

Chapter 30: Rhys

A
rielle went
to pay a visit to Lilith on my behalf to inform her that our journey to The Shade had to be delayed. I would have gone myself, but my sisters convinced me that I would serve Lilith better if I remained in bed and used the time to recover.

When Arielle returned from the visit, she had a wide gash across her cheek that even Julisse had trouble healing. Clearly, Lilith hadn’t taken the news kindly.

The wait for my aunt to return with a fresh supply of mer-fin was perhaps the most agonizing of my life. Every time my door clicked open, my eyes shot up and I kept hoping it would be Isolde walking through the door, clutching a jar of aquamarine scales.

When my aunt finally returned, I ushered her into her potion room. I waited with her while she brewed the antidote, breathing down her neck and assisting her any way I could to speed up the process.

Once the potion had turned a maroon color, she poured a goblet for me and handed it to me. I downed it instantly, even though it scorched my throat.

“Pour me another,” I said.

She raised a brow. “Rhys, it can be dangerous to take more than one dose within an hour.”

“I’m willing to take the risk,” I said, brushing her aside and filling the goblet up a second time myself.

I took two doses every hour for the rest of that day, and by the evening, I was delighted at the progress my palms had made.

It won’t be long now…

Chapter 31: Abby

W
aiting
in that cramped closet for hours was torturous. I was sure that Erik was suffering more than me—he had much longer legs, after all—but he persuaded me not to risk going out. We were so close to catching Mona alone, we couldn’t afford to be noticed by the maid now.

“You’re right,” I muttered, shifting on my feet for what felt like the hundredth time.

I bent down and looked through the keyhole. The room was dark now. Night had fallen.

I straightened again, praying that Mona wouldn’t be gone much longer.

“I wonder who that warlock is… Coen,” I said.

Erik didn’t respond.

I reached out and touched his shoulder. “I’m sorry about your brother.”

He gulped. “Yeah… We just have to get him back.”

As I withdrew my hand, I realized that I could see it. I pushed aside the gowns covering Erik. I could see his tense face too, his chestnut-brown eyes wide.

“The spell is gone!” I gasped.

He grimaced. “We’re lucky we got inside this closet first.”

“Do you… do you think this means something has happened to Patricia?”

“I don’t know.”

Come on, Mona. Hurry up.

I looked through the keyhole once again as though doing so would somehow hasten her return. The room was still empty.

We stood in silence for the next hour, and I tried to stop looking through the keyhole. It was only making the wait worse. When the front door finally clicked open, both Erik and I let out a deep sigh of relief.

I bent down to look through the keyhole while Erik remained standing and pressed his ear against the door.

Warm lights flickered on in the bedroom as Mona walked in, followed by Coen, who was holding her hand. Judging by the way they were staggering slightly, they’d both had a little too much to drink.

“Well, Coen,” she said. “Thanks for this evening.”

He raised her hand to his lips and placed a kiss over it.

“Any time,” he murmured.

They remained standing, just staring at each other for several moments before Coen reached out slowly and slid his hands around Mona’s waist. He drew himself closer to her and began placing kisses on her skin, working his way from the base of her throat up toward her cheeks. I was glad Erik wasn’t watching this—it would have only made him feel worse about his brother.

While Mona didn’t seem to be returning Coen’s affections, she wasn’t resisting them either. It was only when his lips neared her mouth that she detached his hands from her and took a step back. Her eyes downcast, she shook her head.

“I… I can’t.”

“I’m sorry.” Coen backed away apologetically. “I understand. I’m not sure what I was thinking. I-I’ll leave.”

She gave him a faint smile. “That’s all right. Good night, Coen.”

“Good night.”

As he vanished from the room, Mona heaved a sigh. Removing her earrings, she placed them inside a box on her dressing table and headed straight for the bathroom. Water gushed as she took a shower.

“As soon as she comes out, we’ll step out.”

Barely had I finished my sentence when the maid walked into the bedroom with a tray containing an ornate silver jug and a matching goblet. She placed it on Mona’s bedside table before proceeding to straighten the bedsheets.

Damn maid.

When Mona finally stepped out of the bathroom wearing a nightgown, her hair wrapped up in a turban, the maid was still fussing about in the bedroom. My heart hammered each time the maid looked in our direction. I was terrified that she might come over to the closet.

Finally, the maid dimmed the lights as Mona slipped into bed and nestled her head against the silk pillows.

“Mona’s in bed,” I breathed to Erik. “The maid can’t hang around much longer…”

But I was wrong. Bizarrely, as Mona settled into slumber, the maid pulled up a chair in a shadowy corner of the room, directly opposite the closet we were standing in, yet hidden from Mona’s bed.

“What is she doing?” I whispered. I thought perhaps the maid had made it a habit to sleep in here with Mona, but she was showing no signs of drifting off. She sat bolt upright in the chair and her eyes were open—seemingly fixed on the dressing table at the foot of Mona’s queen-sized bed. “Maybe we should just risk stepping out.”

“No,” Erik said. “We’ve waited this long to get Mona alone. For all we know, the moment that maid lays eyes on us she could vanish us away, just as they did to my brother.”

I supposed he was right, though I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stay in this closet before my patience was entirely spent. The maid was still staring at the dressing table. I wasn’t sure what she found so interesting about it. Perhaps it was just a comfortable place to rest her eyes on.

It was only once Mona’s breathing became heavier that I realized.

A pale smoke-like substance billowed out from the small jewelry box resting in front of the mirror, and as it rose higher toward the ceiling, to my horror, the smoke began to take shape—the shape of the most ghastly creature I’d ever seen in my life. It was a ghostly form with long, skeletal limbs, sharp teeth and pointed black nails. Its glowing amber eyes sent shivers down my spine.

This must be the ghoul.

I had to stifle a scream as it hovered over Mona’s bed and reached down toward her head. I thought the creature was about to wake her at first, but as its fingers made contact with her scalp, they became transparent and disappeared into her head.

It’s continuing to poison her mind even now.

My gaze was momentarily distracted as the maid in the corner finally stood up and left the room. I could only assume she’d been waiting for the ghoul to appear all this time.

“What’s happening?” Erik’s chest brushed against my back as he lowered to my level and gripped my waist. I moved my head aside so he could see for himself. When he pulled away from the keyhole, his eyes were wide with horror.

“Where did that thing just come from?” he asked.

“The jewelry box on Mona’s dressing table.”

He took another look through the hole before turning his eyes back to me. His face was ashen, his expression dark as he whispered, “We need to kill it.”

Chapter 32: Kiev

P
atricia
and I barely had time to react before Brisalia vanished and several guards appeared in her place. They opened up our cell door and dragged Patricia and me out.

I fought back with all my strength, but they’d placed some kind of restraining spell on me. It was futile. My limbs were held in place as I levitated off the ground along with Patricia, ready to be taken to whomever Hagatha was.

The prison surrounding us disappeared as we vanished and reappeared in a small, dark chamber. My body was thrown against one of the rough walls. My limbs seemed to be released as I hit the ground, scrambled to my feet and launched myself at the nearest guard, but I barely managed to get three feet before I was yanked back by a chain that had closed around my left arm, fastened to the wall. I struggled against the restraint, but just as those bars in the prison had seemed to be magically reinforced, so was this. It wouldn’t slide off no matter how hard I pulled.

To my left was Patricia, huddled on the ground, her arm also fastened to the wall.

“Hagatha,” one of the guards began to repeat over and over in a deep voice. He spoke the name like a taunt.

I had no idea to whom he was calling. The room was empty but for me, Patricia and the warlocks.

After the seventh calling of the name, there was a violent banging to my far left. I hadn’t noticed it before, but now I saw, in a shadowy corner of the room, there was a narrow oak door.

“She’s woken up.” The warlock grinned as he looked at his companions.

“Do you think she’ll do the job with this vampire?” one of them muttered.

“Of course,” another replied. “She hasn’t been fed for weeks.”

“Now let’s go. Jason, remain outside. Check down here again in about half an hour. As for the rest of us, Brisalia wants us to report back.”

They retreated up a flight of stairs a dozen feet away and exited through a hatch in the roof. The sound of a heavy bolt being drawn echoed around the chamber.

Patricia was now shaking as the banging against the door to our left grew more and more furious. Just as I was sure the wood was about to give way, there was a sharp click. The door swung open to reveal a pair of glowing red eyes set in an almost bald, shrunken skull. Deep blue and purple veins were visible beneath the creature’s papery skin, and its long bony body levitated a few feet in the air.

Hagatha.

A ghoul.

I barely had time to shout before the ghoul lurched forward. Patricia, being nearest to her, bore the brunt of the attack. I watched in horror as the ghoul’s dark knifelike nails tore into the witch’s gut. Patricia’s blood soaked the floor as Hagatha ripped through the rest of her stomach with razor-sharp teeth.

I didn’t need to be a physician to realize that Patricia was already beyond saving.

As the ghoul began sucking out the witch’s intestines, I strained even harder against my chains, although I knew it was hopeless. I stared down at the metal clamp seemingly bolted into my skin. And I thought of Mona.

I’d come close to death too many times in my past to keep count of. I’d been through too much to be afraid of death, or of the physical pain that would come with it.

But dying like this, while the girl who owned every part of me would think ill of me forevermore if I couldn’t reach her… it was a kind of agony even I couldn’t bear.

Anything would be less painful than this.

Anything.

Still staring at the chain fixed to my left arm, I knew I had only one option if I wanted to have even the faintest chance of seeing her again.

Extending the claws in my right hand, I dug them into my own flesh, just above the metal clamp. Biting my lip hard against the pain, I twisted, snapped and clawed until my left arm separated from my shoulder. The chain clinked as the limb dropped to the floor with a dull thud.

My head began to spin as blood gushed. Backing up against the wall, I feared for a moment that I might pass out. But I couldn’t. I forced my mind to once again focus on Mona.

The ghoul was still busy eating the witch and it seemed that she hadn’t noticed what I’d just done. But by the looks of it, it wouldn’t be long until she’d finished her meal and would be ready for more. I had perhaps less than a minute.

I lurched toward the stairs and, climbing up to the roof, ripped at the hatch with as much strength as my one arm could muster. After thirty seconds of trying, it was clear that it wasn’t going to open. My eyes shot toward the only other exit to this small chamber—the dark room Hagatha had exited from.

Leaping down from the stairs, I raced into the room and slammed the door shut behind me just before the ghoul smashed against it. This door was fragile enough as it was from Hagatha’s earlier assault. I wasn’t sure how much longer it would remain standing at this rate. If it lasted a couple of minutes, I’d be lucky.

If what I’d heard about ghouls was true, Hagatha should have been able to just glide right through the door. Hell, just escape this dungeon entirely. I could only assume the witches had cast some sort of spell on this prison that prevented her from travelling through solid structures.

I tore off my shirt and, bunching it up, attempted to stem the blood flow as I kept fighting against the ghoul’s attempt to push open the door. Then I cast my eyes around the room. It wasn’t much different than the one I’d just been trapped in—small and dark. Except in this room, there were several skeletons scattered about the floor—those of humans, perhaps even witches, by the looks of it.

As one of the door hinges broke off entirely, I was beginning to believe that losing my arm might have been in vain. But then a voice drifted down from upstairs. A male voice.

“How are you doing down there, Hagatha?” It was the warlock who’d stayed behind. He must have heard all this commotion—more than I was sure he’d been expecting to hear. “Almost finished?”

The ghoul let out a bizarre screech.

“Is something wrong?” the warlock replied. “Get back in your room and I’ll come down.”

The ghoul shrieked again, then fell silent. The banging stopped.

“Are you back in your room?”

The ghoul let out a quieter sound in response and I sensed the creature backing away from the door. I dared open it slightly and peer through the crack. She was hovering in a dark corner of the room, just at the side of the stairs, yet not directly in view of the hatch.

What is she doing?

A theory formed in my mind about what could be going through this creature’s head, and although it seemed crazy, it filled me with too much hope for me to be able to resist playing along.

“Hagatha?” the warlock called again. “You know what happens when you refuse to respond.”

I banged the door, as if closing it.

That seemed to give the warlock the confidence he needed. The hatch clicked open and his footsteps began to descend the staircase.

As soon as I heard him yell, I opened the door again. The ghoul had flown at him and, before he could even aim a curse at her, she tore through his palms with her nails, apparently rendering him as helpless as a human. She dragged him to a corner of the room where she began ravaging him, just as she’d done to Patricia.

Perhaps she prefers witch meat to vampire meat.

I stared up at the open hatch and lunged for it like a drowning man glimpsing land. Flying up the stairs, I grabbed hold of a ledge and hauled myself up before bolting the hatch shut behind me. Doing all this with one hand was so strange. It still hadn’t fully registered in my brain that I’d lost an arm.

Breathing heavily, I cast my eyes around, trying to make sense of my surroundings. I was in a narrow rectangular room with white walls and black granite floors. It was empty, except for a couple of chairs a few feet away from the hatch and one door a few feet away. I hurried over to it and was about to attempt to open it when my eyes fell on a long dark cloak hanging over a chair. If I wanted to have any chance of blending in, I’d need to cover myself up.

I fastened the cloak around me and pulled the hood over my head so it covered as much of my face as possible, and gripped the door handle. It wasn’t locked, to my relief. I stepped out to find myself in a dim, narrow corridor.

I wasn’t sure which way to turn. I took a right first. I found myself in a maze of passages, and all I could do was guess which one I should take. Finally, when I reached what I’d thought was a dead end, I discovered a narrow set of winding stairs leading upward. I climbed them and, on reaching the top, I emerged in a corner of a grand hall. There was a wide set of double doors about fifty feet away and ornate pillars connected the white marble floors to the high, gem-studded ceiling.

Could this be… the palace?

I looked around cautiously. Only once I was sure that there was nobody in sight did I venture out of the doorway into the hall. Moonlight streamed through the massive window panes. It was late. Hopefully I wouldn’t bump into anyone.

I hurried toward one of the windows and peered out into the night. The building was surrounded by lush gardens. My heart leapt as I spotted in the distance the same gates we’d attempted to enter earlier, where Patricia and I had been taken by the guards.

Yes, this is the palace.

As I turned around to face the hall again, my jaw dropped in horror. I was leaving a trail of blood across the pristine floors. But there was no time to cover my tracks. Now, my only hope was finding Mona in time before someone tracked me down.

I sniffed the air, trying to detect any trace of her in the atmosphere. I couldn’t. From the looks of it, this palace was huge. She was probably still too far away. On spotting a wide staircase leading up to the floor above, I swept toward it and ascended it. I emerged in a spacious hallway with doors on either side. As I hurried toward the nearest one to me, a wave of nausea threatened to overtake me. I flattened my palm against the nearest wall, closing my eyes and trying to ground myself once again.

Mona. Just think of Mona.

I staggered forward until I reached the door and sniffed. I had no idea how big the room, or perhaps apartment, was behind this door, but I was certain that it wouldn’t be large enough to prevent me from detecting my girl. Although vampires’ sense of smell wasn’t nearly as acute as werewolves’, as long as I was within a reasonable distance, I should have no trouble sensing her.

I moved to the next door along and stopped to sniff the air. Still nothing. In this way, I staggered from door to door. By the time I’d reached the last one, I still couldn’t sense her. I moved up another staircase toward the next level.

I’d long lost track of how many doors I’d stopped outside of by the time I’d reached nine levels up, and I was practically blind with dizziness. It was all I could do to take even one more step. Pulling myself up the tenth staircase, I stopped in my tracks as I sensed someone approaching above me. I stumbled back down the stairs and leapt into the shadow of a nearby pillar just in time to see a couple descending—glasses of wine in their hands, their lips glued to each other. They were so wrapped up in each other, they didn’t seem to even notice my bloodstains on the floor as they reached the bottom of the stairs and moved away down the corridor.

I sighed in relief before once again attempting to climb the tenth staircase. I still had no luck detecting Mona after a dozen more doors, but as I reached the end of the corridor, I stopped. I heard a smashing four doors along from me. And as I neared, anticipation began to flow through my veins. It was only a slight hint at first—it could have easily been my imagination—but once I arrived outside the rosewood door, the scent was undeniable.

Mona was somewhere behind this door. I could feel it.

Now I had to decide whether to knock, or attempt to break down the door. I placed my ear against it. The smashing had stopped, and had been replaced by… shouts.

“Mona! Wake up!”

My brother’s voice?

There was no way I had any patience to knock now. Five sharp kicks, and I broke the door open.

I stared around the apartment. Someone shuffled toward me down the sprawling corridor to my left. I spun around to see a witch hurrying toward me. But it wasn’t Mona. She had dark hair and wore a grey cotton nightgown. She stared at me in alarm before motioning to raise her palms.

I’d had enough of being knocked around by witches for one day.

Lunging forward, I knocked her to the floor and pinned down her arms with my knees. Then, taking a leaf out of Hagatha’s book, I ripped through her palms before she could expel a curse. Leaving her bleeding and cradling her hands, I continued toward the shouting. It led me to a door at the very end of the hallway. As I pushed it open, nothing could have prepared me for what I saw.

While Mona lay—apparently sleeping—in a double bed, Abby and Erik were battling a ghoul that was about to slice through Abby’s heart.

Oh God, not another one of these things…

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