Chapter 26

TWENTY-SIX

Willow

I just met the Angel of Death. Well, kind of. He stood there like some black-winged Reaper, staring at Gabriel like he didn't even recognize him.

What if they don't come back? I trust Killian and Maddox. Kunchin. The vampires. Sin and Zoe. But Gabriel…I love him, and I can't do this—any of this—without him.

"Stop it," I mutter to myself. "Loving him isn't going to save you."

My whisper glides over to the window next to me. Her gauzy fingers brush my cheek—solid enough for me to feel the lightest stirring of the air.

"When I die, do you die too?" I ask.

She nods, translucent tears swimming in her eyes. God, I have so many questions I wish she could answer. If she could talk…maybe I wouldn't feel so terribly alone.

We watch the trees pass by for several minutes, and then she starts to pace, wringing her hands every few steps until she's making me dizzy.

"Can you stop? I've been nauseous for an hour and this isn't helping." At her flinch, I sigh. "Sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you, but…you feel the Blade too, right? You can tell it's…in pain?"

She nods and presses her hands to her heart. This is the most expressive she's been in days. Like she wants to talk to me but doesn't know how.

"Why don't you pull me in so I can see through your eyes anymore? Is it because we've read all the pages in the book?"

She gives me the saddest look and shakes her head softly. Her hair, almost an exact mirror of mine, falls into her eyes, and she brushes it away.

"If you wanted to, could you?"

Another shake of her head, but this time, she floats closer and rests her hand over my heart.

God, I wish I could understand her. But I feel like we're finally about to get somewhere.

"Were you ever in control of it?" I shiver, though we took a curve a few minutes ago, and sunlight streams into the compartment.

Another no. "Not even outside the vault? Holy crap. You're really as helpless here as I am."

Finally, a nod.

"Okay. This is ridiculous. I have a damn doctorate degree in the Occult. We should be able to figure this out." I rummage in the suitcase for a small notebook and pen, sit down, and start to write. My entire life, I've relied on long hand whenever I've needed to figure out a complicated problem. It calms me, and I can see patterns that no one else notices.

The grimoire holds the power of the Blade. It's been in the vault for more than a century. Waiting? For what? Me—or any one in my line—to get close?

It needs more than me though. Because only a whisper can get into the vault.

Every time we got close to the vault, she pulled me into her reality. But she wasn't in control. So maybe the grimoire is?

When we were "one," we could turn the grimoire's pages, read the warnings, and take on the power of the Blade.

She hears the call like I do. It's impossible to ignore, but it's not malicious. It felt comforting. Natural. Like it's always been a part of me.

I frown at the words on the page. Shit. Why didn't I think of this before? On the next page, I continue to write.

The Blade isn't evil. It doesn't know why it was created. It's a pawn—just like I am.

My whisper sidles up beside me, points to the word "pawn" and then points to herself.

So I cross the last few words out and add, "just like we are."

Drawing a line across the page, I start in on the questions.

Why don't any of the past whisper keepers warn future generations to stay far away?

How does the grimoire get the whisper keepers' last words?

Why is the Blade in pain?

Why did AURA need to give me the WCU when I'm obviously strong enough to make my whisper solid on my own?

My whisper jabs the last question repeatedly, almost frantically. She knows something. I circle the words half a dozen times, desperate for an answer.

"The WCU could send you away and trap me in the void. Were they afraid of me? Of what the two of us could do together?"

I start to capture that thought, but my hand jerks, and the pen scratches across the page in a jagged line. My throat seizes. Clutching my chest, I stagger to my feet, bumping into the table and knocking the notebook to the floor.

What's happening to me? I need Gabriel. Killian. Someone .

Only the thinnest stream of air makes it into my lungs. The compartment door slams open. "Gabriel," I croak. "Help…"

But a tall, pale woman with sleek black hair steps inside, her hand lifted toward me. Blood-red nails, sharpened to deadly points, flutter. I'm lifted off the ground, then slammed back against the window. I can't move. Can't breathe. Can't scream.

"Don't fight, Willow dear," a lilting, hauntingly familiar voice calls.

My body relaxes immediately, and the woman lowers her hand, sending me crashing to the floor.

Hannah strides into the room, a placid smile curving her lips. For a moment, I believe everything will finally be okay. She'll take care of me. But then I blink, and those perfect white teeth yellow and sharpen. Her brown eyes darken until they're nearly black.

She's not human. You can't trust her.

"Calista, take care of her. Quickly. We don't know how strong the warlock and his mate are. We might only have a few minutes before they realize they've been spelled.."

The young woman kneels in front of me, grabs my hands, and traces circles around them with a finger. Red ropes appear out of thin air, binding my wrists and tightening to the point of pain.

With a sharp nail, she traces an X over my lips, then stands. I try to scream, but I can't open my mouth, and a thin whimper dies in my throat.

"I was hoping to find your handsome protector in here as well," Hannah says. "He resisted me back in San Francisco, and I'm dying to know how. But this is easier, I suppose. You'll tell me all about him soon."

I shake my head. I'll never tell Hannah anything about Gabriel. If she finds out he's an angel, she'll want his power—and she'll use me to take it.

"You don't have a choice, Willow dear. I'm very persuasive. After all, I had you in my thrall for two weeks, and you never suspected a thing." She crouches down and drags her knuckle along my jaw. I jerk away from her touch, and her eyes harden. "Clearly I've stayed away too long. My control is slipping. Let's remedy that, shall we?"

I whimper my protest, but Hannah curls her lips back. Pressing her index finger against one sharp tooth, she pierces the tip and a generous drop of blood wells on her skin.

No, no, no.

She's a vampire? But…it's daylight. And we went out in the sun more than once. Didn't we? The few times she hugged me, she was warm. Not like Mist and Kàra and Ewan.

"I can see your confusion, my dear. It's adorable. Truly. Don't fight this. You'll only cause yourself an endless amount of pain." She grabs my chin hard enough to bruise.

My gaze zeros in on the blood. I'm screaming inside, but I can't move. Can't turn my head.

"The Fae power running through my veins lets me sway anyone's thoughts with only my voice. Courtesy of my mother. But it was my vampire father who gave me the most precious gift. Have you ever heard the term ‘blood bound'?"

She doesn't wait for an answer. "Once you have tasted even a few drops of a vampire's blood, you will do anything they command. The more blood you consume, the longer the bond lasts." Hannah sweeps her finger into my mouth and laughs. "I dosed your coffee every morning, Willow. You hold such power, yet you're helpless to fight me."

The taste of her blood on my tongue turns my stomach. I'd retch if I could move at all. Tears well in my eyes. I turn my gaze to Calista, silently begging her to do something—anything—but she bows her head, staring at the floor.

"Calista cannot help you," Hannah says. "She was my father's blood slave until he met the sun. She has belonged to me for centuries now. The one time she even thought about disobeying me, I cut out her tongue. She knows the next time, I'll take an eye. Very slowly."

How could I have ever thought Hannah was a good person?

Somewhere deep down, I know I need to keep fighting. To find some way to escape. But my head feels like it's full of cotton. I can't think straight.

What's happening to me?

"I've been hunting the Blade for my entire life, Willow. Four hundred and thirty-two years. I've had kings, presidents, and dictators worship at my feet, but never a whisper keeper. With you in my thrall, I'll be unstoppable."

Thrall. Whisper. Blade.

The words mean something to me. I know they do. Hannah rises, and the motion stirs the air, bringing the most delicious scent to my nose.

Gabriel. I was with Gabriel. I love Gabriel.

It takes all of my focus to hold his name in my head for even a minute. But as soon as Hannah snaps her fingers, I forget what I was trying so hard to remember.

"Calista, bring her."

The witch points at me, then lifts her hand in the air. My body obeys her silent command, following Hannah out the door and to the left. We slip between the train cars, the three of us crowding on the tiny platform, exposed to the bitter, biting wind of the Colorado mountains.

Tears sting my cheeks, turning to ice on my skin.

Hannah peers over the edge of the waist-high railing, staring at the landscape ahead of us as we take another turn. "Ah. Right on time," she says brightly.

I strain to see what she's looking at, but held by Calista's spell, I only get a quick glimpse of a steep, snow-covered hill below us. The witch twirls her fingers in a circle, forcing my back to the barrier.

What is she doing? Panic twists my heart in a vise. My chest stutters with each desperate breath.

Calista flings her arm toward the sky, and I rise up and over the railing.

Oh, God. She's not… She can't.

The world around me blurs into endless white as my body flies through the air. A pile of fresh snow cushions my fall, but then I start to tumble down the slope. Branches and twigs slash at my clothes. Each cut burns with a searing pain before going completely numb.

Hannah keeps pace with me, skipping along like she doesn't have a care in the world while I roll and bounce and scream behind my sealed lips. How is she moving so fast?

Vampire. She's a vampire. Remember!

Calista floats behind her, serene, yet haunted at the same time. Is she…flying?

At the bottom of the hill, I slam into an invisible wall. The impact drives the air from my lungs. A van idles along the side of the road. The side door slides open, and Isaac jumps out.

"About damn time," he snaps.

"Watch your tone." Hannah climbs into the back of the vehicle. Isaac flinches and mutters a quick apology.

Calista's spell tosses me into one of the bucket seats. More ropes wind around my torso and legs, binding me in place so tightly, I can barely breathe. The witch takes the seat next to me.

The driver's side door slams—Isaac behind the wheel, I think—and the van lurches into motion.

My clothes are drenched and torn. I'm so cold, I can't feel my hands. Even my legs are starting to go numb. Hannah leans forward, her thin lips curving into a gleeful smile. "We thought we'd have to wait for you to find the Blade. But then the Bureau of the Occult and the Other uploaded your DNA online, and that made everything so much easier."

I strain against Calista's control, trying to force my numb lips to part. At my moan, Hannah rolls her eyes. "Let her speak."

Drawing her nail over my mouth, the witch severs the spell.

"Y-you c-can't touch…the Blade," I manage through my shivers. "Only…I c-can."

"You're the only one who can use the Blade," Hannah says. "Anyone can touch it. Don't you think it would have been discovered long ago if it killed anyone who laid a hand on it? We found it in a barn in Nebraska, stuffed inside a box with old photographs, some jewelry, and a set of bone china."

Reaching under her seat, she withdraws a long, leather case. The Blade's strident song rises to a crescendo, so loud, it hurts .

I can feel its fear. Its pain. Or…is that mine?

Hannah lifts the lid. The silence is so sudden, so complete, it's dizzying.

Dozens of symbols cover the weapon from the ornate, bronzed handle all the way to the tip. As long as my forearm and deathly sharp, it's aching to be used. But I can't let that happen. If I do, Hannah will kill anyone who gets in her way.

"You want to touch it," Hannah says.

I do. Don't I?

No. Fight her!

I shake my head. "I'll die first."

Her serene, beautiful mask falls away again, and she snarls at me, baring her sharp teeth. "Stop fighting my blood, you little bitch. You belong to me for the rest of your days. You'll wish for death a thousand times before I even consider granting you eternal rest."

My stomach twists into knots. I can feel her rooting around in my thoughts, seeking my greatest fears, stealing any last shred of hope I might have.

Wrapping her hand around my neck, she squeezes until I can barely breathe. "We have a long drive to reach our destination. I've been planning this for years. Hunting down the strongest of every creature. Shifters, fae, witches, succubi, Druids… Tonight, I'll finally be able to take their powers as my own."

Trying to shake off her hold only makes her angrier. "I could force feed you more of my blood—I probably will soon anyway—but it's so… messy. Not as fun, either. A few hours in the void, and you'll be too weak to resist."

"You can't," I wheeze. "The WCU is gone…"

"Oh, Willow. Your naiveté is adorable." She releases me, and I suck in huge lungfuls of air. So quickly I can barely track the movement, she dips her hand into her pocket, then loops a chain around my throat. It starts to vibrate, the sensation eerily familiar. "So pretty," she says as she traces the links with her finger. "The power chain was one of Calista's greatest creations. It stimulates both vagus nerves at the same time. I could have used it from the beginning, but I had to keep up appearances. Most of the others you met at AURA's lab really did believe we were going to cure the world's diseases. Now that I don't have to worry about them any longer, I can do things the easy way."

"But…"

Calista draws a symbol in the air. Pain steals my words. I thrash against the ropes, but it's no use. They're too tight. My body is trapped, and in minutes, my mind will be too.

"Do you know the best thing about the void?" Hannah sits back in her chair and runs a hand through her dark brown hair. I can only glare at her through my tears. "With your consciousness trapped there, the warlock can't scry for you. It's like you don't even exist."

Calista draws another symbol, and the edges of my vision dim. With the last of my strength, I scream. Every nerve ending in my body explodes in white-hot agony.

I'm slipping away. Fading. "Please," I beg the Universe, the Almighty…anyone. "Let me die!"

No one can hear me. No one can save me.

"Gabriel. I'm so sorry. I should have fought harder."

I slip into the void, and the overwhelming nothingness consumes me.