Chapter 3

3

EVANGELINE

A s I pulled myself to my feet, I felt my magic rising within me. A heady rush crashed through my limbs, making me feel light and shockingly powerful. I let out a hoarse, giddy laugh that was definitely more than a little manic.

Morgana paused in the doorway of my cell, head cocked to the side. It was only for a moment, but I didn't need more than that. I let the magic surge out of me in a crushing wave. It hit her square in the back and sent her flying into the hallway. Damien was caught in the blast, too, and tumbled out behind her. The aftershock hit the one guard, throwing him back against the wall. He didn't even have enough time to look shocked before he passed out. Morgana managed to keep her feet, bracing herself with a furious snarl, but Damien crashed into her, toppling her over and pinning her to the floor with his bulk. I was already moving, but I saw him wink at me as I ran past.

"Get off me, you oaf!" Morgana seethed behind me, and I heard an oof! coming from Damien. I didn't look back.

The hallway streaking past me was an odd mix of old, rough stone and poured concrete. The LED lights were set into ancient sconces that filled the whole place with the stark white light of an operating theater. The air smelled musty and faintly rotten, like the back of a fridge that hadn't been cleaned properly and left unplugged.

The hallway split and curved, and I charged ahead blindly. I had to put distance between myself and Morgana. Finding a way out was a close second on the list of priorities, but I couldn't let her get her hands on me again or I'd miss my chance. She didn't strike me as the sort of person who would ever make the same mistake twice. I had to escape now, or the next time I found an opening I'd be even more worn down.

I dashed up a flight of stairs, the rough stone stinging my bare feet. At the top, it felt as though I had run through a thick mass of cobwebs, that telltale buzz of magic pricking my skin. Shit. My chest heaved, and even with my magic back, I was painfully aware that I hadn't had a full meal in way too long. There was only so much energy you could get out of gruel and the rarely smuggled protein bars. It was bizarre, feeling incredibly powerful and incredibly weak at the same time. I had to keep moving. If I let myself stop, the exhaustion would catch up with me.

But no matter how hard I tried to push myself, I was starting to slow down, stumbling a little with each step. Suddenly, a wall of fire shot up, blocking my way, and I reeled back, covering my face with my hands. There was no heat, I realized after a moment. Light, yes, and the sound of crackling flame, but no heat. Just an illusion, but a damn good one. I tentatively stuck a finger into the flames; it tickled faintly, but didn't burn. I clenched my teeth and jumped through the barrier. So, that was what the spell I'd blundered into did. But it was too much to hope that would be the spell's only effect. I could still feel it clinging to me, changing my perception.

The hallways around me began to twist as I looked into them, warping around on themselves, growing doors that hadn't been there a second before, sometimes even disappearing entirely. Fucking illusion magic. If the fire had been intangible, then that meant the rest of the illusions would be as well. Maybe I could figure out my way forward by touch alone? But no, I couldn't waste time feeling my way around blindly until I found the right path. Alarms were going off, and I could hear the pounding of boots on stone. It was distant for now, but if I kept fumbling around here, sooner or later I'd be found.

It wasn't only the people holding me prisoner I had to worry about, either. The curse was a ticking clock of its own. How long did I have before I started to lose myself to its call again?

I stumbled into a spot where the corridor split in eight different directions. At least it seemed like it did. How many of those doorways were real? How many of them were just in my mind?

"Shit," I muttered through my teeth. "Shit, shit, shit…"

The idea hit me abruptly. It wasn't a great idea. Hell, I didn't even know if it was a good idea, but it was the only one I could come up with. My light spell, one of the first Marcus had ever taught me, created globes of light that had a physical mass. If I sent them out with a couple of minor tweaks to the spell, they would drift through empty space for as long as they could, then bounce back when they hit an obstacle. They could find the dead ends for me.

Of course, if they bounced back, then anyone in the tunnels would be able to follow them straight back to me. I'd be giving them a literal beacon.

Fuck it . I threw out the little balls of light, and they bounced gently through the air, each one heading toward one of the corridors around me. Three of the lights bounced off immediately, floating back to me—three illusory passageways, then, or ones laid with wards I didn't have time to break.

Waiting for the lights to return was agonizing. I hadn't bothered to send one down the pathway I'd come through, so I was still waiting on four of them. After a few excruciating seconds, another one came back into view, drifting peacefully toward me. Would all of them be so slow? I thought I'd put more energy into the spell, but I wasn't exactly at my best. The footfalls were getting louder. Someone was at the bottom of the stairs behind me.

Stay calm. Just stay calm. You can do this .

A grunt of surprise came from one of the corridors, and I could see the glow of the light down that pathway starting to come back. Someone was following it, their boots thudding heavily against the stone floor with each step. Two lights left to go—one had gone straight ahead of me, and one to the right.

A fifty-fifty chance.

Then from the stairs, a bellow. "She's up here!"

The illusion of fire licked up around me again, flames dancing to waist height. Whoever had spotted my light was getting closer, nearly at the last corner, and the man who'd yelled was pounding up the stairs. The last two globes of light still hadn't returned. I was running out of time.

As the guards burst into the room, I squeezed my eyes shut as tightly as I could and channeled more power into the light spell. The orbs that had returned to me flamed brilliantly, the light bright enough to paint the insides of my eyelids a searing orange-pink. One of the guards let out a startled squawk. Now that I'd well and truly destroyed any night vision they might have had, I threw up a ball of darkness in the center of the room, big enough to fill half the space. The guards stumbled blindly into it as I launched myself up toward the ceiling on a tendril of magic as quickly and quietly as I could.

Was that…? I squinted. Was it another hallucination, or was there a faint glow coming from the tunnel in front of me? Was it my light spell bouncing back?

Fuck it. I'd have to take my chances. I dashed down the tunnel to my right. There was another set of stairs leading up, and I raced up them two steps at a time, scrambling to brace myself with my hands when I stumbled. The soles of my feet were stinging, and I hoped the rough stone hadn't broken skin. If I was leaving a trail of bloody footprints for them to follow, I'd be in even deeper shit. Luckily, the floor here was more in line with the poured concrete and LED side of things than the ancient, worn stone. I ran past offices and what looked like a conference room. Something was sketched on a board pinned to the wall in there, but I couldn't pause to look at it. The alarms were clamoring here, too. I needed to keep moving. Hallucinations kept hounding me. Walls of fire, shifting pathways, and now people, too. As I ran, I could've sworn I saw Marcus reading a newspaper in one of the offices, and my parents—adopted and biological—sitting around a table in what looked like a break room, sipping casually from mugs of coffee.

"Not real," I panted. "Not real."

I ran, and ran, and ran. I passed Theo, their head bloody and half caved in. Isabella, her expression rigid with fury and distrust. Gabriel, his eyes worried and hands smeared with ash. The curse scar on my chest ached like a ripened bruise I'd dug my thumb into. His eyes caught mine and he called my name. It sounded distant and strange, like a whisper in a dream.

"Not real," I said again. It came out sounding like I was begging, and I clenched my teeth. I wished Gabriel was here. I was glad he wasn't. I didn't want anyone that I cared about to be in a place like this.

I was running on fumes, but I kept pushing forward. Finally, I crashed through a set of metal double doors and into watery sunlight. I looked around frantically. Another illusion? No, it was too complex, too all-encompassing. I could feel the sunlight on my skin. The wind was cold, and it rushed through the trees above, trying to knock down the last of the autumn leaves. In the distance, I heard the yells of kids playing. One of them complained shrilly about not getting a turn on the big slide. I was in a park. A familiar section of the park, actually, near a pizza place I liked. I glanced over my shoulder. The doors I'd burst through were disguised as an out-of-order public bathroom.

Luckily, I was in the boring section of the park, the part half-hidden behind bushes, away from the flower beds and the playground. Nobody bothered to hang out here. It was completely empty, and thank fuck for that. I didn't know how it would've gone if a barefoot, filthy woman covered in dried blood burst out of a public toilet in front of a group of playing kids, but I could take a wild guess.

Keep moving. Just keep moving. No collapsing until you're somewhere safe, or at least safer .

I staggered forward, moving on autopilot. The streets were uncannily quiet around me as I forced myself to keep walking. That was a problem for another time.

My knees nearly gave out when I turned the last corner of the walk and saw my building. Maybe if I collapsed here, somebody would carry me back to my place , I thought with a tinge of hysteria. Maybe if I collapsed here, somebody would find me and take me right back to Morgana.

Somehow, I made it to the front door. The stairs shifted under me, carrying me upward like an escalator, and I touched a grateful hand to Chanel's wall. One of the floorboards slid me to the door of my apartment, which opened for me. I sank down to the floor as the door shut behind me. Every reserve of energy I'd called on to escape had been well and truly drained. Maybe I could sleep right here on the tiles?

There was a scuffle, then a gasp.

"Evangeline?" someone said.

The voice was painfully familiar. It was deep and concerned, precise in the way that indicated private tutors and public speaking lessons. The illusion had gotten better at making the voices sound right.

"I'm so fucking sick of hallucinations," I snapped at the curse's version of Gabriel. "So, fuck off."

"Evangeline," the voice said again, sounding choked and miserable. I felt the floorboards shift a little, like someone was kneeling in front of me. A cool hand touched my cheek, and I jumped. None of the illusions had been tangible.

I opened my eyes and saw Gabriel's fine-boned face above me.

"You're real," I said dumbly.

"You're here," he said, just as dumbly.

I should have explained. I should have told him where I'd been, what had happened. I should have told him how sorry I was, begged him to forgive me. Instead, mortifyingly, I let out an exhausted giggle, then collapsed into heaving, ugly, snotty sobs.

Gabriel pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly and burying his face in my hair. It must have smelled rank, but he didn't seem to mind. I was finally safe enough to let myself fall apart, and now there was no stopping it. I was shaking like a leaf, and Gabriel was the only solid point in the whole world. He was stroking my back, murmuring softly to me, but I couldn't make out whatever he was saying over my own shuddering crying.

The floor dipped away from me as Gabriel stood, lifting me with ease. Consciousness was a struggle, and I slipped in and out of awareness. Next thing I knew, I was in the bathroom, sitting on the lip of the tub while Gabriel wiped the grime and flaking dried blood off me with a washcloth. Darkness enveloped me for a moment, and then I was vaguely aware of Gabriel trying to press a glass of water into my hands. As soon as he let it go, it slipped from my fingers, and his shape blurred as he darted down with superhuman speed to catch the glass before it hit the floor. Or maybe my vision was a little blurry, vampire speed or no. Then the sensation of cool glass against my lips as Gabriel held more water for me, giving me small sips. Darkness again. The smell of antiseptic, and the sting of it in the shallow cuts that littered my skin. Darkness. The vertigo feeling of being laid down, then cool sheets being pulled over me. The sounds of a happy cat. Darkness.

When I woke, it was dark out, and my entire body ached. I was in my own bed, and Pothos was curled up with his stupid little head pressed into my palm. There was no sign of Gabriel.

I knew, in an academic sense, that I was terrified. Had he left? Maybe he'd just stuck around to patch me up, but didn't want anything else to do with me. I wouldn't have blamed him. I barely wanted anything to do with myself, not after what I'd done and how I'd stormed off. I was tired enough that the terror was distant, though, like thinking about a TV show I wasn't really invested in. There would be time for panic when I could lift my arms without it hurting.

I managed to scoot up a little in bed. Pothos gave a disgruntled ‘mmrp', but he settled down when I stroked him. There was a glass of water on the bedside table, and I forced myself to drink it in slow, steady sips, even though I desperately wanted to slam the whole thing in one go.

As I drank, I took stock of myself. Gabriel had changed me into clean clothes. He'd done his best to wipe the worst of the blood and dirt off me, but I was in desperate need of a shower. There were bandages on my right arm—the novelty dinosaur ones I'd bought on a whim. I was so hungry I felt hollowed-out.

Just as I tried to get up, I heard the front door open. Gabriel appeared in the doorway holding a brown paper bag.

"Evangeline," he said.

The naked emotion he put in my name made me feel raw and exposed. After everything I'd done, how could he bring himself to say my name like a prayer?

"I'm sorry," he added quickly, moving to my bedside in a burst of vampiric speed. He set the bag down and knelt on the floor next to me. For a moment, I thought he was going to take my hand, but he curled his fingers into the bedspread an inch away from mine instead, like he was scared to touch me. "I didn't want you to wake up alone, but… food."

"You're really not a hallucination, huh?" I managed. My throat felt like sandpaper. My eyes stung. I stretched out my pointer finger to press it against his. He was still tangible. Still here.

"I'm really not."

He opened the bag and pulled out a plastic takeout tub of clear amber liquid, and another of something white.

"From the restaurant downstairs," he explained nervously. "Chicken broth to start with, then congee with…" He rummaged in the bag and pulled out another, smaller tub, filled with a violently red mixture. "Extra chili crisp. It's your favorite, isn't it?"

I stared at him, kneeling earnestly by my side, offering up comfort food. Then I burst into tears again.