Authors: C.N. Crawford
“You woke the demon first with whatever you were up to by the river,” she snapped. “And I wanted to find out what it was.”
“I have nothing to do with the Purgators. Why can’t you just trust me?”
“Because you’re so obviously lying, and for all I know, you could be sneaking out at night to eat people or drink blood.”
She could see a vein pulse in his forehead, and they were silent for a few moments. Even before, when he hadn’t been lying, he’d never told her much about himself. He never spoke of his family.
He glanced at her. “You’re starting to become visible. You’ll need to chant the spell again.”
“Right.” She squinted at him. He was dressed in a loose white T-shirt. “Why are
you
visible? Won’t the guards see you?”
He stared ahead. “I slipped out quietly. I forgot the invisibility spell. Can you say it for both of us?”
Another lie. There was no way he’d forgotten the invisibility spell. True, he’d forgotten it in Maremount, but she was certain he’d committed it to memory since then. He’d been beating himself up for his lapse in Maremount. It was what had prevented him from saving Eden.
She shoved away the image of Eden’s corpse and Tobias’s grief-stricken face after he’d watched her die. Limping along, she fluently intoned the spell.
Tobias’s body disappeared into the darkness. “Thank you. And while we’re at it…” With his arm around her waist, he pulled her to a halt. He crouched down, lifting her ankle slightly.
“What are you doing?”
“The mending spell.”
“Will that work on an ankle?”
“It worked on a dead man’s skull. I don’t see why it wouldn’t work on you.”
He chanted the Angelic spell, and when he finished, the pain subsided in her leg. He released her ankle before standing again.
She rotated her foot. “That was a good idea.”
“I can be useful sometimes. When I’m not drinking blood.” He led her out of the hedge maze, and crickets began to chirp again.
As they stepped into the paths between the gardens, she heard a new set of footsteps crunching along the gravel.
“Fiona?” Alan’s voice, whispering. “We thought you were right behind us, and then we couldn’t find you.”
“I hurt my ankle. Tobias found me.”
“There you are!” cried Mariana. “I was freaking out that Evil Fiona caught you.”
“We’re not calling it that.” She crossed her arms. “Anyway, thanks for coming back for me.”
Clouds crept across the moon, and in almost total darkness, the four of them slipped past the guards and into the still house. When she got to her room, Fiona crawled into her bed, shutting her window tight against whatever shadow-self lurked in the grim angel garden. Tobias still wasn’t telling her anything. What sort of deal had he made with the Ranulfs that allowed him to sneak around the grounds fully visible?
Below the portrait of Great-Grandfather Edgar, Mrs. Ranulf tapped her fingers on the table, her eyes flitting from student to student as they chatted over bowls of cereal. Her face was pale, the color of the puffed rice grains in her bowl. Munroe sat next to Tobias, and she peered over at him, ignoring her food.
It was frustrating sitting around the Ranulf mansion while he had a philosopher to kill. But he might as well hole up here until Amauberge Bouchard sucked the life out of Jack. The old monster would be too weak to put up a fight against Tobias when the succubus finished with him. On top of that, he’d be fortified with Emerazel’s strength. Jack didn’t stand a chance. It should just be a matter of days until he returned to Boston to kill Rawhed once and for all.
Jonah rubbed his eyes, only half awake. “So we have math first again today?”
“Math, then English.” There was little enthusiasm in Mariana’s voice.
Beside her, Fiona took a long slug of tea. Her slow blinking suggested she was struggling to stay awake. It must have been well after midnight by the time they’d both gotten back to their rooms.
She knew he was lying about something, but he could fill her in once Jack was defeated. Anything before that meant she risked getting involved.
She wore a red ruffled shirt that looked like it was made for an eight-year-old, and yet the way it hugged her shoulders—
Munroe touched his arm. “Did you sleep all right last night, Tobias?”
Mrs. Ranulf frowned at her daughter. “Munroe. We don’t touch boys at the breakfast table.”
Munroe whipped her head around, lashing Tobias’s face with her red hair. “I wasn’t doing anything,” she hissed.
Sadie tittered from the other end of the table, and Fiona shot him what she referred to as her
death stare.
Mrs. Ranulf turned to Fiona with an approving smile. “You don’t spend too much time thinking about boys, do you, Fiona? With test scores like yours, I think you’re destined for great things.”
Fiona glanced around the table as if looking for help, and Tobias shrugged at her. She’d somehow become a favorite of Mrs. Ranulf’s.
Munroe’s mother pushed her bowl of cereal away. “I’m not sure how many of you know the history of the Sanguine Brotherhood.” No one spoke as her eyes scanned the room. “There are some who call us the Purgators, but I find that such an old-fashioned word.” Her eyes swiveled to Munroe. “Why don’t you fill in our guests on our culture.”
Munroe’s chest swelled within her white blouse. “The Brotherhood dates back to antiquity. After the storm god wiped out nearly an entire Roman legion in Britain, the remaining centurions sailed to Denmark.”
Mrs. Ranulf nodded, a smile brightening her face. “In Denmark, the Brotherhood established their own dynasty. And with the Vikings, our faith was spread around the globe.”
Munroe stroked a strand of her hair. “For thousands of years, the Sanguine Brotherhood protected villages and cities from the evils of witchcraft.”
Connor raised his eyebrows. “The Brotherhood sounds awesome. And some of the Founding Fathers were part of it?”
Mrs. Ranulf sighed deeply, looking to her daughter with a wistful smile. “I’ll be honest. The republic wasn’t really our thing. We didn’t like all the nonsense about separating church and state, and between you and me,” she flashed a conspiratorial grin, “most people can’t be trusted to vote.” She leaned back in her chair. “Some families were made to rule. It’s in our blood. But the Brotherhood does what it can to remain in power, even if it means adapting for a time. I feel certain the country will welcome my son Harrison’s leadership someday.”
Munroe’s cheeks burned. “And me, too. I’ll be a leader, too.”
Mrs. Ranulf tilted her head. “Women are meant to support the men. You know that. Without order, we are nothing.”
Silence descended on the room.
“Well, I hope everyone slept well.” She cleared her throat, and the frost in her voice did nothing to assuage Tobias’s unease. “There was a bit of an incident
last night.” She ran her tongue over her teeth.
Fiona choked on her cereal, coughing into her hand. Munroe still glared at her mother, whose face began to soften as she smiled faintly.
“Munroe’s aunt Stella is not well. She was found wandering the grounds
in the middle of the night. She gets into the strangest places sometimes.” A half-strangled laugh escaped her throat. Her eyes lingered on Mariana, whose black eye makeup included tiny star designs today. “I don’t suppose any of you were out last night, were you? Wandering around past your bedtime? The guards didn’t see anyone but the—” She cleared her throat again. “Munroe’s aunt was ranting this morning about seeing someone.”
Tobias tried to catch Fiona’s eye.
Is that who’s locked in their crypt? An insane aunt?
“Mariana, you were friends with the Mather Witch, weren’t you?” asked Mrs. Ranulf.
“Celia? A few of us were. I mean, we all knew her. Or thought we knew her.”
“It must have been a great surprise, finding out she was a terrorist.” Her cheeks had whitened.
“I’m sure we were all inside last night,” said Connor after a while.
Mrs. Ranulf’s lips twitched into a half-smile, and her knuckles whitened as she crushed her napkin in her fist. “Well, I’m sure you’ll all tell me if you see anything amiss.”
“Of course, Mrs. Ranulf.” Sadie’s freckled face was all sincerity.
“If you work with us, and let us shepherd you, the world can be yours. Let me show you something.” Mrs. Ranulf leaned back in her chair, pressing both hands on the table. “Harrison!” she yelled. “Harrison!”
Within seconds, the blond assistant rushed into the room, struggling to hold a wiggling toddler. His shirt rode up over a protruding belly as the woman tried to grip him. “Nnnnnnyyuhhh!” He kicked out his legs, dropping onto the floor before the assistant picked him up again in a flurry of small feet and fists. A tiny sneaker flew across the room, hitting a wall.
Mrs. Ranulf looked out at the table. “Harrison. Show our guests how you’ve memorized the names of all the presidents.”
“Ugh, not this.” Munroe stared at the ceiling.
Harrison kicked at the assistant. “No no no no!”
“Harrison!” Mrs. Ranulf glared at him. “You won’t get your gold star for the day if you don’t follow the rules.”
Harrison stopped struggling, pouting as he scowled at his mother.
“Washington…” Mrs. Ranulf arched an eyebrow, waiting.
“Washew,” he mumbled.
“A-dams.” Mrs. Ranulf’s head dipped and rose in an exaggerated nod.
Harrison pinched his fingers as he spoke, twisting from side to side. “Ada.”
“Jeff-er-son.”
“Jehson.”
Victorious, Mrs. Ranulf beamed at the students and began to clap. A few students joined in with cheerless applause. Harrison resumed
kicking as he was ferried out of the room, and Munroe folded her arms.
“You see,” her mother said. “Those who follow in a path of purity are given many great gifts. We can be leaders.” She looked at Mariana again. “But you must be honest with us. So if any of you know of someone—”
Tobias straightened. For a moment, he considered giving them Jack’s name. If anyone could handle him, it would be the Purgators. But something stopped him.
I want to choke the life out of him myself.
I want to watch his eyes bulge as I cut off the air in his throat, starving his brain of oxygen like he did to Eden.
A wave of horror washed through him.
I’m becoming like him.
Jack woke in the dark, tangled in his silky gold bedsheets. He had the strangest feeling that someone had been sitting on his chest, but there was no one in the room.
Alexandria wouldn’t come in here, would she?
Sweat soaked the fabric beneath him, and a cramped hamstring contorted his right leg. He gritted his teeth, waiting for the pain to subside. When his muscles relaxed, he sat up, wiping his hand across his damp forehead. He would have to make the trip to Virginia sooner than he’d thought.
With trembling legs, he rose from his bed. He opened his oak dresser, pulling out a pair of gray pants, a thin blue T-shirt, and a black cashmere sweater. After dressing himself, he stumbled to the bathroom and turned on the tap, splashing his face with cool water. Hunger clawed at his stomach. He studied himself in the mirror.
The red blood vessels in my eyes certainly bring out the blue.
He shuffled toward the kitchen. A loaf of fresh bread lay on the counter, and he cut himself a slice. The first bite was soft, but as he chewed, it began to taste like sawdust in his mouth. Bread wouldn’t satisfy this hunger.
A delicious smell wafted in from the living room—patchouli, but also something sweet—something like almonds and honey.
Alexandria.
She slept on the sofa with her arms outstretched, a faint glow from her laptop lighting her face. Her hair spread around her head like she was underwater. He bit his lower lip so hard that a drop of salty blood trickled into his mouth.
He kneeled down in front of her, eyes roving over the tattooed symbols on her arms. From the crook of her elbow, a black-socketed death’s-head stared out at him. It was the symbol for
caput mortuum
, the decaying remains left over from an alchemical operation. And it was what his own face would look like if he didn’t satiate his cravings.
His mouth watered, and he inched closer to her neck, inhaling deeply. She shifted in her sleep, and he stumbled back, his eyes wide.
I need her alive.
He jumped up, hurrying back to his bedroom.
I must get out of here.
He pulled on a pair of socks and his black Oxfords. Swinging open the closet door, he yanked out a black shoulder bag and stuffed a few shirts and wool sweaters in. Arms shaking, he pulled on his coat and scarf, shambling into the living room. He grabbed a spell book, five bars of gold for the Earl, and a half-melted candle, shoving them into his bag. He paused, staring down at the bag.
Why am I taking a candle? My mind isn’t working right.