Chapter 5

5

EVANGELINE

T wo hours later, I was at the door to Big Sal's diner, bundled up in a bulky coat, with a scarf pulled up to my nose, and a beanie pulled low to hide my hair. It was cold enough that the makeshift disguise wouldn't draw attention, but there were barely any people on the street to spot me, and the scant few who had scurried past us were focused on getting wherever they were going as quickly as possible. It made me both less and more conspicuous. There was barely anybody to see me, but there also weren't any crowds to hide in.

"Are you all right?" Gabriel asked me. He'd also opted for a scarf to hide his face, although he'd paired it with mirrored aviator shades from my drawer of odds and ends that could be pulled into service for quick disguises. He looked like a movie star trying to avoid the paparazzi.

"I'm fine," I said. "Just, you know, bracing myself."

I took a deep breath, inhaling the musty scent of the scarf, and pushed open the diner door. The bell jingled cheerfully, the smell of coffee and bacon greeting me. The place looked the same as always, with scuffed black-and-white checkerboard floors and red vinyl booths. A young guy, maybe nineteen or twenty, worked behind the counter, wiping down the laminated menus with a rag. He was trying to make muttonchops work for him, and he definitely shouldn't have been able to pull them off, but it actually sort of worked. If someone covered up his neck tattoo and got him to take out his lip ring, he could have been cast as an extra in a regency drama. The tattoo was a new addition to his look. He'd waited on me a handful of times when I'd visited the place, and I definitely would've noticed a technicolor swallow on the side of his neck. He straightened up when we came in, plastering on a customer service smile.

"Y'all can sit wherever," he said brightly, waving a hand at the completely empty diner. "I'll be with you in a second."

I pulled down my scarf, and his smile changed into something more genuine. "Just me, Toby. I figured Sal would be here."

Toby's smile dimmed. "Sal's… She's focused on some other stuff right now. But she called me up to let me know y'all were coming. They're already in the back."

My stomach lurched. I'd wanted more time to prepare myself, but that clearly wasn't in the cards.

"Thanks," I said, and led Gabriel to the back room.

As soon as I opened the door to the back room, I heard the scrape of a chair on linoleum and had a sudden armful of witch. I recognized the distinctive smell: coconut, patchouli, a little bit of ozone. Marcus. His wiry arms wrapped around me, hugging me tightly with all of his stringy old man strength. Some of the tension started to drain out of me, and I squeezed him back, shutting my eyes. When I let out a blustery sigh, he squeezed me even tighter, like a comforting boa constrictor.

"I wasn't sure you'd come," I mumbled, and he pulled back. Behind his glasses, his blue eyes looked very sad and very, very old.

"I wasn't sure you'd want my help," he replied. "I should have handled it all differently. I should have prepared you properly."

"But—"

"No buts," he said firmly. "I was the teacher. You were the student. It was my responsibility."

"Thank you," I whispered, pulling him into another quick hug.

Over his shoulder, I saw Isabella sitting at the cheap folding table in the middle of the room and watching the display. A month ago, I would've expected her to hug me, too, but now…

"Thank you for being here," I told her, pulling away from Marcus and sitting across from Isabella. The chair was the same red vinyl as the booths in the main diner and had a tear in the seat that was spilling stuffing. "And… I'm sorry about before."

"You don't need to apologize to me," Isabella told me levelly. "I'm not the one whose hands you fucked up, or the one whose skull you cracked open."

"Isabella," Marcus said warningly, putting a hand on the table next to her. His hands were in some sort of magical braces, with silvery rings above and below each knuckle on his fingers and around his wrist, connected by thin engraved rods. They practically hummed with healing magic.

"We can talk later," Isabella said. "You and me, somewhere private. But you called us here for a reason."

I hadn't expected to be forgiven, but it hurt to be proven right. I packed that away for later, when I couldn't feel the curse trying to claw its way up my throat to spit furious little barbs back at Isabella.

Next to me, Gabriel spoke up. "Before we begin, one of you should make sure that Morgana and her people haven't inflicted any additional magical injuries on Evangeline. I know neither of you are healers, but you're what we have at the moment."

"You really know how to make people feel special," I muttered to him as Marcus grabbed my wrist and pressed a callused thumb to my pulse.

"I can't feel a thing with these on," he said after a moment, wiggling his fingers so his braces rattled like morbid castanets. "Isabella, you'll have to take a look."

Isabella glowered but scooched over. She didn't bother to touch me, just closed her eyes and held her hand out an inch above my wrist. Even though she'd moved away from using dark magic, she was much more attuned to it than either me or Marcus.

"You're clean," she said finally. "Aside from, you know, the curse."

She turned away, and Marcus made a face at her. Isabella sighed and dug a small potion bottle out of her pocket. I held it up to the light when she handed it to me. It had the familiar reddish tint of a basic healing draught.

I popped the cork, chugged the swirling liquid down in two gulps, and immediately started to feel better. I didn't feel quite as thin and worn-out anymore. Now it just felt like I'd had a few nights of bad sleep and missed lunch, not like I'd spent a week in a dungeon.

"Thanks," I said.

"Don't mention it," she said in a way that told me if I did mention it she would make sure I wound up regretting it.

Awkwardly, I set the potion bottle on the scratched folding table, then wished I'd held onto it, so I'd at least have something to do with my hands.

The door to the back room slid open, and Damien let himself in.

"Good," he said. "You're all here. Let's get down to business."

The citadel was a huge, imposing structure made of interconnected spires that splayed out across the ground. It kind of looked like a giant Gothic Revival starfish. The cold, gray stone of the place stabbed up into the sky, cutting sharp lines against the fall sky. Courtyards dotted the outside, offering scenic views and spots for people to sell postcards and keychains to visitors. I stood tucked out of view of the citadel in one of those courtyards. The teams we'd decided on were small, and there had been plenty of arguing about them before they were finalized, but eventually, Damien had won out. Gabriel, Marcus, and Isabella would get me inside and cause a distraction if necessary. One of Damien's associates would get me out. All I had to do was break into the vault.

All I had to do. I looked up at the looming shape of the citadel. Right. Simple.

"Show me that spell one more time?" I asked Marcus, a little nervously.

"Of course." He was dressed in a surprisingly nice suit, well-tailored and expensive looking. I would've been amazed he owned it at all if I hadn't seen the metallic gold and silver stars on the lining. He demonstrated, keeping the hand movements that accompanied the spell slow. I couldn't tell if that was so I could follow along more easily, or because he couldn't move at full speed while his hands healed.

As he completed the spell, Isabella came up to us. She was also sharply dressed in a power suit, and had thrown a glamor over her stark-white afro to make it a nondescript dark brown. With a clipboard tucked under her arm, she looked like she could be right at home working in Eldoria's government.

She frowned. "Where's Marcus?"

Marcus was standing right in front of her. He wasn't invisible, really, he was just… not something my eyes wanted to focus on anymore. My brain kind of slid off him every time I tried to focus on him. I could still see the impression of his smile as he dropped the spell, making Isabella jerk back.

"Jesus fucking Christ," she grumbled. "You can't scare me like that when I'm already stressed."

"Apologies," Marcus said, completely unrepentant.

I saw Gabriel crossing the courtyard toward us and went a little pink. He was in full vampire prince regalia, all old-fashioned silk and brocade. There was a waistcoat involved. I, on the other hand, was dressed in my touristy best, wearing an I 3 ELDORIA sweatshirt and a fanny pack.

"Looking good," I told him.

He smiled. "You look beautiful."

I scoffed. "Seriously? I'm dressed like an ad for polyester and getting pickpocketed."

"Oh, yes, the outfit is truly dreadful," Gabriel said. "But you look beautiful."

I bit back a smile. Hopefully, with the light fading, he wouldn't see me blushing. Wait, no. Vampires had excellent night vision.

"We should get moving," Isabella said. "Everybody ready?"

"Not particularly," Gabriel replied drily. "Let's go."

We got up to the entrance of the vampire section of the citadel as the sun dipped fully below the horizon. One of the carved double doors was propped open, and two guards were stationed outside. One of them was leaning an elbow on a sign advertising audio tours.

"Last tour group for the day is meeting in the lobby in five," he told us.

"We're not here for the tour," Gabriel said. He brushed past the guards without giving them a second glance, with Marcus and Isabella striding along behind him like they were accompanying him on important business. With the spell Marcus had shown me firmly in place, I followed a few steps behind, letting them draw all the attention.

A few people wandered around the massive atrium, but it seemed the state of the city had even scared off the tourists. Grim portraits of vampires looked down their noses at the few visitors from their gold frames, looking foreboding enough to scare off anyone who wanted to read the informative plaques hanging next to each one. A few more modern display cases were set up, jarring against the backdrop of ornate gothic froth that made up the inside of the building.

Gabriel strode through the echoing atrium with an air of confidence, completely silent on his feet. The place was a maze, built up over the years into a confusing mess of rooms, but he led us straight to the entrance to the private wing. The guards stationed there looked a hell of a lot more attentive than the ones out front, even so close to closing time. Their jackets bulged over concealed weapons, and each had a radio clipped to their uniform. I nervously twisted my hands through the shape of the concealment spell again. One of the guards, a bald vampire, scanned the hallway idly, and the other, who had an impressive monobrow, was checking some sort of device built into the doorway.

"Master De Montclair!" the bald guard said. Behind him Monobrow snapped to attention.

"Relax," Gabriel said, raising a dismissive hand. "This isn't an official visit. I merely have a few matters to discuss with my father."

Baldie and Monobrow exchanged a nervous glance. "Lord De Montclair is out at the moment, sir," Monobrow volunteered cautiously.

"No matter. My associates and I can wait for him," Gabriel said.

"Of course, sir," said Baldie. "If you'll step through…"

"The detector is new," Gabriel commented.

"Been increasing security lately," said Baldie. "Orders from His Lordship."

Damien warned us about the magic detector, but seeing it in person was different. The inside of the doorframe was roughly covered in twisted shards of obsidian, giving off the impression of a set of jagged black teeth. I shuddered.

Gabriel stepped through, with Isabella following behind him. I braced myself. God, I hoped my spell was strong enough for this to work.

Marcus walked through the doorway with me right next to him, desperately throwing more power into the concealment spell. Right away, the stone began to flash with red light, and a bell went off, surprisingly delicate and tinkly given how rough the whole thing looked.

"If you'll step aside, sir," Monobrow said, frowning.

"This is absurd," Gabriel said, sounding regally bored.

"Are you carrying any magical items, sir? Any charms or talismans?" Baldie asked Marcus.

"Magical?" Marcus echoed, sounding baffled. "Goodness, none that spring to mind. There might be a smidgeon of enchantment on my fountain pen. You know, it has the most wonderful iridescent ink, but of course that sort of pigment is famous—infamous, even!—for clogging up the fine-point nibs I've always been partial to. Of course, that might be my other fountain pen. I can't remember which one I brought today…"

As Marcus was his distracting self, I crept past the guard station. Gabriel was looking around the room, trying and failing to be subtle about it, but the guards were too focused on the blathering to notice. I pulled back on the concealment spell for a split second, just long enough for Gabriel to see me. I shot him a wink, and he gave me a worried look.

"Oh, silly me. The hand braces are a bit magical! Gosh, I can't believe I didn't think of that sooner. I'd forget my own head if it wasn't attached, I swear," Marcus said as I ducked down a corridor.

I drew out a scrap of paper with a small map drawn on it, labeled in Gabriel's careful, angular handwriting. Downstairs, two lefts, first door on my right. A guard station was marked with a red dot, and the likely patrol routes with a red dashed line. I can do this .

The curse started to prick at me, trying to make me push more and more power into my spell. I reined it in. I needed to stay in control.

The upside of my ugly tourist shoes was that they were basically silent on the polished marble stairs leading down toward the vault. I crept down the hallway. Voices came from behind the door, and I held my breath as I walked past. I reached the first left-hand turn that split off into a part of the citadel that felt older. The rooms I passed had thick oak doors, black with age, with elaborate fittings. Not the expensive faux-Victorian stuff I sometimes saw when dealing with rich clients, but the real deal.

Unease twisted in my gut. I'd heard that some witches got omens about the future, like a feeling of impending doom before something bad happened. Unfortunately, that made it impossible to tell when I was just nervous and when something awful was coming. I decided to assume it was merely nerves. Anyone would've been if they were in my horrible, horrible shoes.

Another left. Then, down the hall, footsteps. I pressed myself against the wall, throwing more power into my charm. A guard meandered down the hallway, one hand on the lump at his hip under his jacket.

Don't see me . I'm not here. I'm just a piece of wallpaper. Keep on walking .

He was almost level with me now. One step, then another, and he was right next to me.

Please, please, please, don't see me .

The guard took another half-step, then paused, frowning. My heart was rabbiting in my chest. He dug into his suit jacket and pulled out his phone, which he unlocked with a chuckle. He tapped at the screen, then held it to his ear.

"Hey," he said. "Got your text. Can't believe you take pictures like that at work, babe."

Someone spoke on the other end, and he laughed.

"Yeah, my shift's almost done. I guess I could, y'know, find somewhere to appreciate these properly…" He started walking again, shoes squeaking against the floor.

I let my head fall back against the wall in relief, blowing out the breath I'd been holding. "Gross," I mouthed to myself.

I crept to the first door on the right. It was so heavily warded, just walking into the space around it made my eyes sting. Reaching out, I felt the shape of the enchantments, then forced back a swear. Each enchantment was complicated and fiddly, the work of a couple of different people layered together. I could take them apart, but it would need all my focus. Focus I wouldn't have if I kept up my hiding spell.

I would have to drop it if I wanted to get into the vault, and that would leave me right in the middle of one of the patrol routes with no cover.

Dropping the spell, I threw myself into unraveling the wards. Each one was booby-trapped—if I wasn't careful, I'd set off alarms, probably all over the wing. I wished I'd had the foresight to ask how much time passed between patrols. If one guard had just gone past, surely that meant I had a little time? There was no point in worrying about it now. Focus. That was what I needed.

Or I could blast the vault apart. Throw enough magic at it until it cracked open, take what I wanted, and run. But no, that wasn't me, that was the curse trying to pull my magic back into itself. I gritted my teeth. One of the wards split apart under my hands, then another. I could do this the right way without losing control of myself again.

I felt like I was defusing a bomb, or performing complex surgery. Sweat beaded on my forehead and stung my eyes, but I couldn't look away and risk breaking my concentration. One by one, the spells came apart. Just one left, but it was a doozy. This one would need patience more than focus. If I fed it a slow and steady stream of power, I could overwhelm it and shut it down without triggering the alarm. If I pulled back before I shut it down, though, the thing would go off immediately.

Wiping my forehead with the sleeve of my sweatshirt, I got to work, channeling energy into the delicate webbing of the enchantment. Then I heard the sound I'd been dreading since I came down here: footsteps. A guard turned the corner at the far end of the hallway. I couldn't stop what I was doing. I couldn't hide, and I couldn't use my magic to conceal myself. I clenched my jaw.

The man was tall and reedy, with short blond hair, and a slightly piggy nose. I saw the exact moment when he spotted me. His eyes went wide, and he quickened his pace, heading straight for me.

"Miss," he barked. "Miss, you can't be down here."

I gave him an embarrassed smile.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're here," I said, doing my best vaguely Midwestern accent. "I was looking for the bathroom and got super turned around." Come on, come on, I thought at the ward. Break, you bastard . "I don't even know where my tour group got off to. Could ya help me find them, sir?"

"This is a restricted area," he snapped. He was almost on me now, maybe two yards away.

"Aw, jeez, is it? Just my luck. Honestly, it's amazing I don't get lost in my own house." I laughed, hoping the edge of mania would make me sound more like I needed the bathroom. Just a little more time. Just a little more magic, and then …

"Miss—" the guard said, reaching out a meaty hand to grab my arm. Just before he clamped down on me, I felt the gentle pop of the ward giving way.

"Finally," I said, and blasted him full in the chest with all the magic that had built up and tried to find an outlet.

The man flew backward and skidded down the hallway, falling into a crumpled heap. He groaned faintly but didn't get up.

"Sorry!" I whisper-shouted, then threw open the vault door and darted inside.

The vault was smaller than I'd expected. In my head, I'd pictured something huge and vaulted with rows and rows of dusty shelves, like the warehouse from Indiana Jones. Instead, I was in a small room, maybe eight feet on a side. Each of the gray metal walls were lined with little drawers, neatly labelled with a tag in tidy copperplate handwriting. I checked the map Gabriel had sketched me again and scanned over the drawers until I found the one with the label that matched the code he'd scribbled in the corner.

"Gotcha," I murmured to myself as I slid open the drawer. Inside, nestled on a small cushion, was the shape that had haunted my dreams for the past week, all the rare times I'd managed to sleep long enough to dream.

The knife was shaped like a fat crescent moon. The handle rose up from the center of the arc cut into the blade, but the whole thing looked to be made of one piece of metal. It was coppery, and the blade still had a few tiny flecks of my dried blood on it. It was small. From point to point, the thing was maybe three inches across, the handle barely bigger than my thumb. There was a hole through the end of the handle, perfectly round and smooth. I'd seen blades in the same shape before, probably at one of the history museums Marcus and I had gone to on work trips. Usually, knives shaped like that were used for thinning out leather. Stripping away layers of it to make it easier to bend into shape. This blade was different from them only because of a technicality. It didn't make leather easier to bend to your will, just people.

I shook myself. The sleep debt I'd accumulated was bad enough that I was getting all poetic, which was always a bad sign. I snapped on a pair of gloves and picked up the knife. The curse twisted happily inside of me like a cat in a sunbeam. It was eager. The curse-scar on my chest pulsed with an eager, needy feeling. If I just held the knife a little closer…

I shuddered and stuffed the thing into the enchanted evidence bag I'd brought in my fanny pack. As soon as the bag was closed around it, the urge disappeared. I felt dirty, tainted, like I needed a shower.

I peeked out of the vault, checking the hallway. I'd managed to avoid setting off any alarms, so if I could wipe that guard's memory of ever seeing me, I could get away quickly and cleanly. All I had to do was get to the roof without drawing any attention, where Damien's contact was meeting me.

Of course, as soon as I thought that, an alarm sounded nearby.

"Fuck's sake," I muttered. Down the hall, shoes squeaked, people running from the guard station toward the disruption. Based on Gabriel's map, that would bring them right past the guard I'd knocked out.

Sure enough, a handful of uniformed vampires skidded around the corner. I heard a shout as they spotted their unconscious colleague.

Okay. So, quick and clean was off the table.

I ducked back into the vault, pushing the door closed behind me, then cracked my neck and stretched out my hands. Time to have a little fun. I hadn't had much time to get a sense of my new power, but I could guess as to what I might be capable of. I threw a bolt of raw magic upward, fast and hard. There was a roar and a crash, then a shower of dust, stone, and twisted metal crumbled down onto the floor. Some of it bounced off the shield I'd thrown up around myself, a small dome of force that flashed gold whenever something hit it. I looked up.

The blast had blown straight through the ceiling, which I'd expected. What I hadn't expected was for it to tear through the three floors above. I grinned so widely, my cheeks hurt. Maybe having an insane amount of magical power was something I could get used to after all.

I twisted tendrils of magic out of the air and flung them up to the edge of the hole on the top floor. They grabbed on tightly, and I pulled, sending myself flying upward. I caught brief glimpses of the rooms as I zoomed through them, just enough to get an impression of dark, ornate offices, and a glossy bathroom. Then I was on the ground again, catching myself on the half-crumbled floor next to the hole. I felt like a goddamn superhero.

Alarms blared all around, and I could only hope that it was Gabriel, Marcus, and Isabella causing the planned distraction and not anything worse. They'd get out easily. Gabriel knew the place like the back of his hand, and he could pull rank on the guards.

I glanced around, trying to get my bearings. The large, half-circle room looked like it was set up for meetings. I sprinted for the door, running until I found a stairwell. Now it was just a question of getting up as fast as possible. Curling thick vines of magic around the stair rails, I yanked myself up the center between the flights of stairs.

The rendezvous spot was a patch of roof between three of the turrets, a triangle with two sides tucked against the citadel and the other facing out over the city. All three towers had entrances onto the roof, making it the ideal spot to meet up if you didn't know which path you'd be taking. I slammed open the door to the roof. At some point, the door had been replaced with a metal fireproof one, with a bright red EXIT sign above it. Good to know that even powerful vampires had to abide by fire code.

It was fully dark out now, and this high up, the wind was bitingly cold. Light poured from the open door onto the balcony. The first thing I noticed was the view of the city sprawled out below. It was beautiful, even with too many of the lights left dark, and looked somehow fragile, like a model that could be crushed by a clumsy hand.

The second thing I noticed was the man waiting in the shadows. He was broad and beefy, with a generous gut he wasn't dressing to hide. In the light from the stairwell, I could see that he had red hair streaked with white at the temples, and a neat beard.

"Good, you're here," he said. "I heard the alarms. Everything all right?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," I told him. "Hopefully, it's just a distraction, but…" I shut the door behind me, leaving us in the gloom. It took a second for my eyes to adjust. With so much of Eldoria dark, the stars were so much clearer. "Have you seen the others leave?"

He shook his head. "I don't have eyes on the front door. We need to go."

"We should make sure they're out first."

"We don't have time," he insisted. "We need to get you and that knife away from here as soon as we can."

I desperately wanted to argue, but he was right. "Fuck," I grumbled. "All right, so what's the plan?"

The man knelt and patted his own broad shoulders. "Hop on," he said. I stared at him, and he grinned. "Damien didn't tell you about this part, did he?"

"He did not," I said. "Fuck's sake." I didn't have a ton of other options, so I climbed onto his shoulders. He stood easily, like he didn't even notice my weight, steadying me with his hands on my knees.

"Oh," he said suddenly, lifting a hand and craning his neck to look at me. "Xarek."

"Evangeline," I said, shaking his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Evangeline," he said cheerfully. "Hold on tight!"

Xarek ran for the edge of the roof and vaulted over the railing. I shrieked—we were so fucking high up—and closed my eyes tightly, feeling the wind whip past and sting my face. Suddenly, the wind stopped, and I heard a noise like tearing silk. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself sitting on the back of a huge copper dragon, its— his —massive wings splayed out on either side of me to catch the air. I grabbed onto his neck, a densely muscled thing maybe a yard in diameter covered in scales the size of my palm. I whooped and held on tighter.

Xarek flapped his wings a few times, taking us higher in the sky. It was like nothing I'd ever felt before, all that strength channeled into such precisely controlled movements. Even though we were hundreds of feet up in the air, I felt surprisingly safe.

Below us, I saw one of the doors to the balcony slam open, sending a wedge of light over the ground. A figure ran out onto the roof, and I could've sworn my heart stopped. Gabriel. He stared up at us, then sprang into motion again, heading for one of the other doors. Before he could reach it, another figure ran after him, grabbed Gabriel brutally by the hair and yanked him back. Gabriel tried to fight the man off, but he stabbed something into Gabriel's neck, and I watched in horror as he went limp.

"We need to turn back!" I screamed over the wind, but Xarek ignored me. "Please! We need to help Gabriel!"

I glanced back. Gabriel was slumped on the floor of the rooftop.

"No!" I yelled, slamming my hand down against Xarek's scaly hide. "Go back, you have to go back!" I felt so useless, so small, unable to turn this massive creature around as he carried me farther and farther away from Gabriel.

The attacker looked up at us, a grim smile spreading on his face. Roland De Montclair, Gabriel's own father.

A shuddering, snarling sob tore out of my chest. Each beat of Xarek's massive wings put more distance between us and the citadel, but I kept staring daggers at the figure on the rooftop.

Roland gave me a mocking little wave, then picked Gabriel up and slung him over his shoulder.

He carried the unconscious Gabriel back into the citadel, and the door slammed shut behind them.