Secret Worlds (66 page)

“Tell me,” Callista said, still facing the other Maltorim members. Her body stilled, not even a twitch of a muscle or a sway of her stance. “How do you know this witch you speak of?”

“She found my coterie. She’s been with Charles since at least October.”

“Here it is March,” Callista chided, “and you hadn’t alerted us sooner?”

Thalia rummaged for an excuse—something to cover her selfish ploy to gain a place on the Maltorim, an excuse that would cover how she’d wasted time trying to find a way to personally deliver us to the Queen.

“We didn’t learn until recently,” she finally offered.

Callista growled and spun toward Thalia. “You just told me they have been together since autumn! Why had you not told me when I visited the States?”

Thalia bowed slightly in effort to soothe Callista. “My Queen, we only recently learned of their true natures. When you visited—in September—we weren’t aware of her then. Once we were, it would have taken too long to wait for one of your trackers to be sent.” The first statement was said in truth, but Thalia was uncertain of her final remark. She hoped to draw attention to herself as a suitable tracker for the Maltorim.

Callista sneered. “So it is then. Where is this girl now?”

“Here, I believe.”

“You
believe
, or you
know
? Can you not track her, Thalia?”

“She doesn’t have a real scent, she—”

“
What
?”

“She has a scent. What I mean is, it’s weak.”

“Everyone’s scent is weak to you,” Callista replied, rolling her eyes.

“No,” Thalia said sharply. “Hers is
distinct.
Just mild.”

“Distinct?” Callista’s eyebrow rose pointedly.

Thalia steeled herself against the Queen’s words. “Yes, distinct. You know, the way the forever girls are said to smell. Not human, and yet, not immortal, either.”

Had she really been able to tell that much that night in the alley? That would mean she’d known before Charles or me. No wonder she’d said I would be valuable.

“You cannot just toss that around, Thalia. A forever girl.” Callista scoffed. She stared into the distance a moment, then her eyebrows pulled together and she lifted her gaze. “Truly?”

“I am certain,” Thalia said. “I will bring her to you to see for yourself.”

“See that you do not return without her.” She started to pace away, but turned around once more. “Alive, mind you,” she said with a sickly-sweet smile. “I want to meet this…
witch
.”

Thalia bowed briefly. “One more thing, my Queen….”

“Say it.”

“If I bring you this girl, Charles’ fate is mine to decide.”

Callista narrowed her eyes. “Fine. Though you must wait until we have extracted the information necessary to unlock the key.”

Using my clairaudience, I picked up that ‘key’ had meant a person…or people. But a fog hung over Callista’s thoughts, and all I could discern were general ideas and fragments of thoughts. Something protected her mind.

Thalia slipped out of the room and closed the door. Her vision panned across the passageways.

Where are you?
she thought, and she started down the hall.

I TUCKED THE MATCHBOX in my pocket. My leg muscles stiffened as I ran, the weight of my legs reminding me of my childhood nightmares. I didn’t slow until I reached the mausoleum and crept through the entrance Charles and Adrian had taken earlier.

There was no plan—there was only knowing I couldn’t turn away, that I had to go in.

The passages were colder, bigger, and darker than I expected. I’d seen them through Adrian’s eyes before, his night vision far superior to my own.

Each step grated in my ears, surely as loud as thunder to the Cruor. My breath came short, my pulse hammered in my throat. Would they sense my approach? Thalia was searching for me, and here I was, padding deeper into the asylum, closer to my capture.

The corridors stretched in every direction, the doors sometimes erratic and far apart and other times evenly spaced and cramped together, all of them eroded at the bottom, revealing rust beneath gray paint.

Charles’ voice rang in my head.
Go home, Sophia. Please.

The deeper into the passages I traveled, the stronger the voice of his thoughts became. A few feet later, I was too close to determine whether I was moving closer or farther away.

I strode through the stone corridors, holding my breath against the damp air and stench of mold as I followed the path Charles and Adrian had begun. Where had they planned to go from here?

The thoughts of three guards rushed into my mind. My adrenaline throttled and power surged through me, boiling beneath my skin. Reaching in the deep pockets of my black tiered dress, I wrapped my fingers around the matchbox. I stood still, my breathing fast and shallow as I scanned the area for a place to hide.

It was too late. They were marching toward me. Cool breath prickled the flesh on the back of my neck, and I spun around. The speed of my movement surprised not only me but also the Cruor who had crept up behind me.

His eyebrows pulled together, first in confusion, then the lines deepening into fury. Another Cruor approached from the other direction. Placing the distance of each elemental was becoming easier.

I lit a match, and the first Cruor laughed.

A match?
he thought.
How pathetic.
“What’s that for?”

“This?” My heart was thumping in my stomach, but now was not the time to show fear. “This is for you.”

I tossed the match and reached out with my hand to hold the flame in the air. No depletion of energy, but the Cruor had me outnumbered.

“What…” His eyes widened.

The match distracted him, but the other Cruor rushed toward me. I stepped aside and spread my hands apart. The fire grew, creating a web between them, catching them both on fire. They screamed, but the crackle of fire soon overtook their cries. Smoke burned my nostrils, and, with surprising speed, their bodies reduced to ashes.

I’d killed two men.

I’d killed them, and I didn’t feel bad. I didn’t feel
anything
. No gut reaction, no moment of guilt. I was responsible for these deaths, and all I could do was stand there, frozen for a moment, hoping I wasn’t such an empty shell of a person that my actions meant nothing.

The third Cruor wasn’t dressed like the others. His hair was slicked back and he wore a plain black suit with a black dress shirt underneath. He clapped his hands slowly as he circled the scene.

“Quite a show,” he said.
Clap
.
Clap
.
Clap
. “I especially love the costume. This dark look works well for you. Have you considered Broadway?”

I pushed into his thoughts. Nothing. My breaths burst in and out.

“Yes, that’s a neat trick, too.” His face was an unreadable mask—blank, empty, callous. He took another step closer and crossed his arms. “Now that I know your gifts, they will be of no use to you.”

I recognized him then. He’d sent the Cruor after me at Club Flesh; he’d been the one Ivory had asked to stage my attack. Marcus. I hadn’t seen him up close before, but I was certain. And, clearly, he recognized me as well. My new hairstyle and dark make-up had been enough to disguise me in a crowd, but perhaps it’d been too much to expect it would help me here.

“What
are
you?” I asked. Being able to prevent me from using my powers went beyond the abilities of the Cruor.

Marcus tilted his head back and scoffed. “Your question—it offends me. Let us skip the formalities, shall we?”

In an instant, he was standing a hair’s breadth away. He glared over my shoulder. “Seems you’ve killed my brothers.” His gaze lowered, burning into my eyes. I went to strike another match, but he knocked my arm away and gritted his teeth. “Enough games.”

He grabbed my arm just as Thalia strode around the corner. I couldn’t read her at all now.

Her heels clicked along the slate floor as she approached. “Oh, how wonderful, Marcus. Goody me. You’ve found her.”

Marcus turned his glare to her. “She found us.” He ended his sentence with a sound of disgust and thrust me toward Thalia. “Just take her.”

He turned and headed down the hall, a ring of keys jangling at his side.

“Confiscate her matches,” he called behind him as he disappeared into the shadows.

Thalia grabbed hold of my elbow, and I yanked fruitlessly against her grasp.

“I see you’ve met our disabler,” she said. Her hair smelled like lemons and soil. My stomach lurched. She tightened her grip, laughing, and reached in my pocket to retrieve the box of matches. “Guess you don’t need these.”

As she pushed me forward, I leaned back, refusing to walk the direction she urged. Another Cruor approached. Something pricked my neck.

Everything blurred.

No.

I fought to hold onto consciousness, but my muscles weakened. I sank to the floor, Thalia’s elbows hooked under my armpits.

Her voice was there, somewhere, woolen and dreamlike.

“
Take her.
”

***

I BLINKED MY EYES OPEN. No iron bars. A steel door. A caged light flickered overhead. Mildew spores branched across the bottom of the walls like varicose veins. I heard a distant coughing—a Strigoi being held prisoner. Not Charles. I tried to rub my forehead, but my hands wouldn’t move. Someone had roped me to a chair.

The doorknob rattled, then stilled.

An unfamiliar voice echoed through the door. “Turning her would be of use.”

“You don’t know her.” This time, the voice was Thalia’s.

“I’ll send Marcus.”

The door opened. As Thalia entered, her black robes brushed the floor. Her hair was tamer than usual, her expression colder and her violet eyes brighter.

“I would just as soon have you killed,” she said, “but I suppose it will still happen. Only more painfully.”

This was all she said before leaving.

***

MY CLAIRAUDIENCE came and went in waves. Marcus was disabling me, though perhaps sometimes he was too far away to do so effectively.

When I had a new surge, I sent my clairaudience out to the Maltorim’s main room. Thoughts echoed inside my head—Thalia and Callista I recognized, but no one else. They had with them a human girl, one who would not make it through the night. I pushed my fear for her aside. I couldn’t help, only listen.

“If any of you object, you are free to leave,” Callista said. Her words were a lie. No one was free to go anywhere if they didn’t agree with her, and they knew as much.

“You have my utter and complete loyalty,” Thalia replied.

“Give it a rest, Thalia. I knew of Charles long before you came to me.”

“Oh?” Thalia sounded hurt to the ears of a quiet Cruor whose mind I had tapped into. “How is that?”

“You know my source.”

“Ivory?”

“She contacted me a month back and told me of his nature. Along with the location of the Liettes.”

Thalia didn’t believe her but dared not accuse the Queen of lying. “She’s gone now,” she said instead, barely-suppressed anger coloring her voice. “I’m here. And I am the one who told you of the girl. Ivory was keeping her from you.”

“It’s of no consequence,” Callista retorted. “We have but one goal. Ultimately, we protect ourselves and therefore the human race as a whole.”

I couldn’t believe Ivory had involved the Maltorim. I was only thankful she hadn’t told them where Charles lived, but that was likely only because she didn’t want them to find
me
.

As Callista spoke, conflicting thoughts echoed from those around her. Most were completely loyal while others knew her for the hypocrite she was. Save the humans—but kill them when she wanted to feed on their blood? Over the years, Callista had done her part to ensure a Maltorim comprised entirely of Cruor. Her loyalties lay with protecting her own kind, and she believed the longer they waited, the faster the dual-breeds would grow in number.

“We have the upper hand now,” Callista continued, “and we must extinguish the remaining dual-breeds at once if we want to send a message of zero tolerance. They will only replenish in number, and I don’t think I need to tell you all the dangers that would pose.”

Almost everyone in the room agreed with her final sentiment.

I allowed more thoughts to filter in. One member carefully watched everyone’s actions, and I included her thoughts in my focus. She thought differently—mostly in patterns and pictures—but her mind seemed blank of emotion or reaction. She was mentally filing every spoken word and every Cruor’s move.

Callista’s very own stenographer.

I closed my eyes, and the stenographer’s vision played on the insides of my eyelids.

“I hate to be contrary, my Queen,” a young male Cruor said, “but the Universe—”

“Oh, please. Surely you jest?”

“It’s only that—”

“It’s nothing! The Universe is nothing—they have failed time and again. This is our chance.”

No one dared interrupt.

“The Universe has no answers.
I
have the answers. Cloning has brought forth new opportunities, and we are decades further in our advancements than even the top scientists in the world. We will come forth with our cures for disease, and the humans will welcome us with open arms. No longer will we need to live in the shadows. Humans will sacrifice their blood to us in thanks.”

“But the witches—”

Callista whipped around. In one movement, she broke a leg off a chair and dove across the room, plunging the wood into the young Cruor’s heart. To me, her movements were all a blur, pausing at the final result: her body hovering over his as his veins turned visibly black, his body crumbling to dust, a broken chair toppling behind her. Callista’s eyes held a murderous glint, and her mouth twisted in a cruel smile. But all that quickly melted away, a resolute calm reclaiming her features.

She stood, the stake in her hand hanging limply at her side. Blood dripped in small splatters to the floor, turning to ash like a flicked cigarette. “Does anyone else object?”

Everyone looked away except the stenographer.

“As for these
witches
—do not doubt me. We will find them and they will join us,” Callista said. “Starting with Sophia. We will guide her into fully realizing her gifts and using them to protect our kind.” She gave each Cruor in the room a long stare. None of them made eye contact, though most were devoted to the cause. “She will come around.”