How long can I stand to be in direct light? Can I cover myself with sheets? How badly am I going to burn? This is some cruel joke. Kallisto must have planned this. She’s probably sitting right outside of this door, waiting to hear my screams.
Just as the thoughts entered my mind, a buzzing noise sounded in the room and shutters descended slowly from the ceiling.
I breathed a sigh of relief as they covered the window, completely blocking out the early rays of morning light. The only light left in the room was the fluorescent glow of the bedside lamp.
My clothes had been left in a pile on the floor. I changed out of my robe before collapsing on the bed.
The tiny room that was my prison did indeed remind me of a cell. No pictures, no fancy furnishings like the rest of the penthouse; just the bed, nightstand, and lamp. I cursed myself for being so stupid.
I shouldn’t be here. Intuition told me something was wrong with Jessie, but I blindly followed her as she led me straight into the hands of Kallisto. I wonder if Jessie delivered her message.
I knew Lysander would be horrified to know what happened, and I had no doubts Jessie would be destroyed after her message was delivered.
Would Lysander do it himself? Would he rip her limb from limb, or bleed her dry? Would the Peregrinus try to stop him?
I bit my lip, hoping the pain might help hold back the emotions threatening to explode within me; anger, fear, sadness, and regret all came rushing to the surface.
How long will Kallisto keep me here? There has to be some way to escape. I can’t—I won’t—harm Lysander. She has to know this.
I remembered the look of agony in Lysander’s eyes when he told me I didn’t need to know the details of what had happened to his other children.
Was this how it happened to them? Will he come and try to rescue me?
I heard footsteps and the sounds of others outside of my door. Members of the coven must have been making their way to their rooms for the morning’s sleep. Had I not been so trusting, I too would be sleeping now, but in the comfort of Lysander’s bed.
Tears welled in my eyes, spilling over and streaming down my face. I thought of Lysander holding me. He promised me he would not lose me. He should have been the one to go hunt with me. He should have known better. Why hadn’t he been able to sense that Jessie could not be trusted?
I shoved my face into the pillow to stifle the sounds of my sobs. I wished I was home with him and the rest of the clan.
In my heart, I knew he would not leave me here. Kallisto knew this, too. She was counting on it. That was the only reason I was being kept alive. She had no other need of me. Kallisto knew Lysander would come, and then, she would take her revenge.
If he didn’t come, Kallisto would have me destroyed anyway. Her generosity was no more than a trap for us both.
Bloodstained tears soaked the pillow. Mentally, I said my goodbyes to Rozaline and Nicholas, Crystal and Drew, and Damon. If the Peregrinus kept to the plan, everyone should be gone soon, leaving town at dusk. I prayed Lysander would be with them, and that Kallisto’s rage and my death would be quick.
* * *
It was some time before I ran out of tears. Pulling my head from the pillow, I saw the ugly brownish stains the tears had left behind. I wiped off my face, sniffling and trying to compose myself.
I can’t just sit here crying. I need to find a way out of this place.
A faint whispering outside my door caught my attention. Someone was talking, but I couldn’t quite make out what was being said.
Slowly, I crept out of bed, got dressed, and made my way over to the door. I cursed softly as my shoes squeaked against the polished marble floor. I cringed, thinking the sound might have given away my sneaky intentions, but the mumbling continued. Kneeling on the ground, I placed my ear against the door.
“…confirmed that the rumors are true,” a man’s voice whispered in a thick French accent.
I leaned as close to the door as I could, hoping to hear the speaker better.
A woman’s voice spoke this time. “Is everything in order for our departure?” I recognized the unusually accented voice of Kallisto.
“Of course, Mistress. We shall depart as soon as you are ready.”
“Excellent. I will leave before midday.”
“What of the rest of the coven?”
“Leave them.” Kallisto’s words were cold as ice.
“But, mistress,” the man protested. “They are your children.”
“And if the Saints come and find this penthouse empty, they will continue to hunt us down. Do you want that?”
“No, mistress. I…”
Of course. With all the activity this evening, I had forgotten about the Saints. I should have expected she would know of them. If Nicholas could gather that information from a television newscast, surely the coven would have the same information and know they were in town.
“The others will sacrifice themselves,” Kallisto said. “You will bring only my guard.”
“Mistress, could we not spare a few more?”
“We can make more,” Kallisto snapped. “If you are so concerned, Edmond, stay with them, and you can all greet the Saints together.”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“I tire of your attempts to go against my will, Edmond. I am the ruler of this coven, and you will do well to remember your place.”
I could only imagine the angry expression that must have been on Kallisto’s face. By the sound of it, Edmond was quickly losing favor with her.
“Mistress,” he pleaded. “I only suggest what is best for the cov—”
“Enough,” she snapped. “I’ve tolerated enough of your insubordination.” Kallisto’s voice rose sharply. “You have not yet been forgiven for failing to bring Lysander here yourself.”
Panic laced Edmond’s words. “Mistress, I... He is much stronger than… I was… being diplomatic… I warned him of his crimes… ”
“You are pathetic and weak, Edmond. I should have you replaced.”
She really is a piece of work
. I snickered. I could imagine the bowing and scraping that Edmond would be doing.
“Mistress, I am sorry, I only thought—”
“You should have brought him to me as I ordered. This business about thirty nights was a ridiculous waste of my time. If you couldn’t bring him in yourself, you should have had someone else do it. Did you not see how easily I brought in his pet? Now Lysander will be forced to come to us.”
“Mistress, I promise, I will not disappoint you again.”
“From now on, you will follow my orders to the letter. Remember, you are nothing without me. Is this clear?”
“Yes, my Mistress.” Edmond’s voice was a low whisper. “Please accept my most sincere apologies.”
“You had better not fail me. You are fast becoming useless. I can easily have you replaced.”
“I will have the car set up immediately for your departure.”
“Good.”
“If I may ask one more question?” His voice trailed away, muffled by the echo of his footsteps. “What shall I do about the girl?”
I pressed my ear harder to the door, trying to make out the words as they walked further away, but it was no use. The penthouse was silent again.
It’s now or never. I have to get out of here
.
I reached up to the knob of the door, turning it slightly.
Damn, it’s locked
.
I reared back and thrust my shoulder into the door with as much strength as I could muster. A loud thud sounded as I collided with the door, but it didn’t budge.
Ouch, fuck, that hurts!
Pain radiated through my shoulder.
So much for brute force. Guess I’m not as strong as I thought. What the hell is this door made of, some kind of reinforced wood?
Pressing my ear to the door again, I listened for any signs of the coven. The penthouse was still quiet.
Kallisto probably expected me to try an escape. I’m sure this room is well sealed.
I made my way back to the bed, collapsing on it and staring up at the blank white ceiling.
What the hell am I going to do?
Death was certain if the Saints were coming.
I remembered what Lysander told me about the Saints. They attacked during the day, since that was when we were weakest. The Saints’ game plan seemed almost too perfect. Horrible burns and blinding light kept us at bay and allowed them to corner us in our homes and cut us down one by one. Those that did manage to escape the daytime slaughter would be followed and hunted down by Santino’s group.
I imagined what it would be like. Death was imminent. I was trapped and there was no escape. I no longer had the tears left to cry for the impending loss of my life.
At least, Lysander and the clan would be spared. He wouldn’t come to the coven house with the threat of the Acta Sanctorum out there.
* * *
I lay in bed, silently awaiting my fate. Occasionally, I heard shuffling past my door, making me think the Saints had arrived. An hour passed, maybe two. I’d lost track of the time as I fell in and out of consciousness. My body wanted rest, but my mind raced with anxiety.
Keys jingled a moment before my door burst open, slamming into the wall. I shot straight up as a figure entered the room. A blob of black fabric flew through the air, hitting my chest before crumpling to the floor.
What the hell?
“Put these on,” a muffled male voice shouted.
I was momentarily stunned, thinking I was about to die, when I realized the blob at my feet was clothing.
“Who are you?” I asked, as I cautiously pulled on the thick sweater and hooded jacket that had been tossed to me.
“No time to talk. Take these, too.” He held out a pair of sunglasses.
Taking the glasses, I chanced a look at the stranger, but couldn’t see past his black ski mask. It concealed his identity, leaving only his blue-gray eyes visible.
“What is going on? Who are you?” I asked, reaching out toward the mask.
He snatched my wrist in a tight, painful grip. I winced in pain, biting my lip to stifle a cry.
“Don’t touch me,” he barked. “Do as you are told. Finish getting dressed.”
He released my hand and I recoiled, falling backward on the bed.
I quickly finished dressing, and the masked man ushered me out the door.
“Be quiet and do as you are told,” he commanded.
His voice sounded so familiar, but who was he?
I kept quick pace with my escort, down the long hallway, into the foyer, and out of the front door. We rounded the corner to the elevators.
I saw the glow before we had reached it. A wall of windows illuminated the waiting area for the elevators. My hands instinctively rose to shield my eyes. The sunglasses seemed to have no effect. Intense, blinding sunlight filled the hallway, stinging my eyes and face as we approached. I pulled my hood over my head as far as it could go, covering my face, and still it wasn’t enough.
The heat from the light felt like flames licking my skin. My hands throbbed in pain, soaking up the light as I shielded my face.
I collapsed to the ground, turning my back to the light, my face and hands stinging with pain.
“Get up,” the harsh male voice ordered.
“It burns, I can’t—”
“Get up,” he barked again.
I slowly rose to my feet, keeping my back to the windows. Even turned away from the direct source of light, I could still feel the heat all around me.
I have to get out of this.
I took a quick step back toward the penthouse, but a hand caught me, whipping me back around.
“Please, no! I have to get away,” I yelled.
Another hand reached to cover my mouth.
“Wait here, or go back there and die,” The man whispered into my ear. “Whatever you choose, keep quiet!”
I nodded, closing my eyes to the blinding light ahead of me.
Waiting for the elevator to arrive at the topmost floor took an eternity. I felt as if my flesh would melt away from my bones before the elevator could arrive.
The blessed ding sounded and the doors parted, allowing us to retreat into the dim, fluorescent-lit cave that was the elevator. I praised the builder for choosing to leave this elevator fully enclosed. My red, stinging hands throbbed. I watched them pulsing as my immortal skin tried to heal itself. The ride down to the garage was too short and soon we were back in the open and exposed again to direct sunlight.
Once the doors parted, light flooded in from all directions, blinding me. In my disorientation I stumbled, smashing into a wall. My sunglasses fell to the ground and the brightness intensified. It washed out everything, leaving a white haze inches from my face. The heat licked at my skin, stinging me as I reached out, trying to feel my way around to find my lost sunglasses.
An arm grabbed me, jerking me over to a van parked at the curb. Its back doors sat open waiting for us to get inside. I quickly hopped in, followed by my escort.
The van was already filled with others dressed in the same funny manner as I had been. There was a sheet pinned up behind the driver and passenger seats blocking the light from the front windows. The doors closed and I breathed a sigh of relief, welcoming the darkness.
The van lurched forward as it pulled out of the garage. I reached above my head to pull my hood down, and a hand caught my wrist.
“Leave it until we reach the safe house,” the muffled voice said.
Safe house
, I thought to myself. Who are these people? After hearing Kallisto’s complete lack of care for her own children, I couldn’t believe that that she would be responsible for sending me to a safe house, and I didn’t think Lysander could have come to my rescue this soon. I sat quietly, trying to figure out the identity of my rescuer.
The van tilted from side to side as it moved through the streets of Las Vegas. We all rode in silence; no one seemed willing to speak. I sensed the anxiety and fear coming from many of the hooded figures I was riding with. The danger of our daytime ride weighed heavy on all of their minds.
After a long drive, we finally came to a stop. I heard the sound of a garage door closing outside, and there was a quick, patterned rapping at the back of the van before the doors parted.