Chapter 15

Feish was taken away from me. Remy dragged her out of the room as she sobbed, still covered in Bridgette's blood.

They left Bridgette on the floor, face down.

A reminder of the cost of any disobedience on my part.

"Lass. It's not your?—"

"It doesn't matter whose fault it is," I said. "Her death is on us. All of us. Because we couldn't figure out how to stop them sooner. And now it's too late for Bridgette."

Charlotte would be gutted. Bridgette had looked after the young witch for years, protecting her. Being her friend and confidant. And now she was gone. I pushed my fists into my belly, as if that would stop the rolling nausea, the grief and shock trying to sink me.

"You're alive. You haven't spoken the spell. It's not too late." Ivan's deep bass rumbled through the bars. "The little one was right—you must keep fighting. Even if we die."

I turned to look at him. "Everyone I ever loved will die if I don't do what they want."

"Yes," Ivan said quietly. "We'd all be together on the other side."

But would we? I wasn't so sure after saving Crash. He was fae. Ivan was fae. Would we even end up in the same place? What about Feish? What about Eric and Suzy? Sarge? Winnifred? Kinkly? Would I be with Gran? Or would she continue on as a ghost?

I struggled to choke back a sob.

I had never felt this…alone wasn't even the right word. Grief-stricken and horrified and tangled up in a feeling of inevitability.

I sank to my knees and wrapped my arms around my middle. I wanted to keen, I wanted to cry and wail until I was exhausted and fell asleep, but there would be no respite in sleep, not anymore.

I would see Bridgette's face as the light slid from her eyes. The promise she'd asked me to make. The choice to fight even though it would cost us everything.

Ivan left me to myself. The sound of his soft snores told me he'd gone back to bed. I didn't blame him. If I'd thought I could sleep, I would have tried.

The room was cold, damp, and despite the beauty of the trappings I had no doubt this was the place I would die—strike that, I would die in an unmarked grave apparently. And if I did not find a way to stop the madness that was Evangeline and Remy, I would die only to be raised from the dead, to be…slaughtered again? That's what it sounded like to me. Evangeline wanted my blood.

What were my options? To kill myself? I looked around the room, wondering what I could use. But of course, the minute I thought it, the bed began to shift and shimmer. The big king-sized bed slid away, leaving a small bed, close to the floor, with the thick blanket. But no canopy, nothing to string myself up with.

I did the only thing I could, I laid on the bed and closed my eyes.

I did sleep, though I didn't know for how long. Bridgette's death chased me through my dreams.

My friends begged me to save them and I woke up gasping, a cry on my lips.

"How long?" I whispered. How long was I asleep? Had the whole seven days passed? Horror flickered through me and I stumbled to my feet.

Shaking I slid to the floor, wrapped my arms around myself and tried to think of a way out of this mess.

As I sat there, the cold of the dungeon around me began to dissipate, and a warm current of air, like the breath of a great animal, swirled around me. I sighed and let it sink into me, something about it feeling achingly familiar.

There was a whisper in the air, like someone saying my name. I turned my head.

Behind me was just a shimmer of an outline, but I would know him anywhere. "Crash." I didn't dare raise my voice. He reached for me and…and I did not reach for him. He couldn't come here. They still wanted him. And I knew that for him I would do what they wanted.

But why? Was it just to control me? They had Feish for that. Or was it something else?

I stared, the warmth around us tying us together. Remy's words had already lost any momentary power they'd had. Crash was mine, and I was his. I had no doubt of that now, even if there had been moments of doubt when I thought Remy was a good guy. I could look back and see that he'd been charming me, and using magic to try and force me away from Crash—even then he'd been trying to control me. My heart eased off its frantic racing. Every piece of me calmed as I stared at the man who had my heart, and my very soul if I could have given it to him.

The moment was there and gone, but as Crash faded from view, the warmth against my skin lingered. I crawled up to the bed and buried myself under the covers, falling asleep in seconds, still feeling Crash with me.

Knowing that as long as we had each other, we could get through this. I had to believe that Evangeline was wrong.

Love would be enough.

My second attemptat sleep was blessedly dreamless. I woke a few hours later, far from fully rested, and the first thing to run through my conscious mind was Bridgette being run through. I covered my face and cried, doing my best to stay quiet.

The last thing I wanted was to endanger Feish's life by displeasing Remy or Evangeline. I had to keep my mind clear, I had to watch and figure a way out of this.

"Lass."

I drew a shuddering breath, staying where I was, wrapped in my blanket. "Ivan."

"They won't leave us alone forever. Do you have a plan to escape?"

I sat up and shot him a look. "You're the fae who's three thousand years old! Why don't you have a plan?"

He chuffed a laugh and tugged at his beard. "I'm not the brains of this outfit, Lass. I'm the brawn."

I slapped my hands at the blankets as if that would tell me the answer. "I don't know."

That was the problem. There was no easy answer.

"Can you connect with the dead?" Ivan asked quietly. "Maybe you can reach someone? Someone who can help?"

I stared at him, because he was right. I needed to find us some help. "You say you're the brawn and then you use your brains." I closed my eyes and reached for the part of me that could connect to the dead. There was a distant tickle of something against my senses. A ghost, not too far away.

I drew whoever it was toward me. I couldn't tell if it was a woman or a man. Part of me feared it would be Bridgette, another part wished it were her.

But I could not be so lucky, not in this world of mine.

"Are you kidding me?" Alan's voice snapped through the open space. "I was in New Orleans like five minutes ago, how in the hell am I…wherever I am here?"

I sighed and rubbed a hand over my face. "Alan. You are not the help I was looking for."

"You shouldn't be able to call me. That's what Marge said." He put his hands on his narrow hips.

"Well, I guess she was wrong," I barked back at him. "I need you to search this place, come back, and tell me what you find. Room layout, windows. Anything that could help us escape. Find out where they are keeping Feish."

He wrinkled up his nose. "And if I help you?"

I stared at him. "What do you want? I can send you over to the other side. Free you from being a ghost."

He shook his head. "No, I don't want that. I've done too much…I don't think I'd be using the escalator up, if you catch my drift."

I stared at him. "You mean you've finally realized that you've been a terrible person? Are you having some sort of come to Jaysus moment?"

"I think I have a lot to make up for." He shrugged. "Free me from Marge, that's what I want."

That was a surprise. I was pretty sure I'd already freed him from Marge some time ago, but I nodded. "If I don't end up dead here myself, yes, I will do all I can to free you from Marge. I thought you liked her?"

"I'm afraid of her," he said simply, then turned and walked through the wall.

Ivan tapped the bar with a knuckle and then winced at the light sizzle of flesh, "You found someone to help?"

"Debatable," I muttered . "But yes, I sent Alan off to see what he can find."

Why hadn't Gran come? Or even Corb? Or anyone but Alan really?

Maybe it was penance for both of us.

I stood and stretched. There was a plate of food on the floor on a tray, but I didn't dare touch it. Who knew what was in the food and drink? Another spell? More concoctions to make me pliant?

The spot where Bridgette had been killed was empty, other than a small bloodstain. A reminder that my friends were exposed to her bloodthirst because of me.

"Why didn't they try to use you against me, Ivan?"

"They didn't use me because they know that you might just let me die. And I'd tell you to let me die. Because I know what's coming if you don't fight them," Ivan said as he sat in a chair a few feet from the bars on my side. "Your friends are your vulnerable point, she's right about that."

I shrugged, feeling better now that I'd slept. "They're also my strength. Nothing could make me work harder to find a way out than bringing Feish here and threatening her."

As the words left my mouth, I felt them harden my resolve. I had to get us out of here before her blood was spilled, before any more blood was spilled.

Vampires, it was always about blood with the fanged ones.

"Ducking vampires," I whispered to myself.

I had to find a way to save Feish and Ivan.

And then, I would kick Evangeline's ass all the way back to whatever grave she'd crawled out of.