Chapter 7

7

EVANGELINE

T he wind stung my face as we flew, sending my tears streaking back toward my hairline. I was sobbing and furious, but by the time we landed, I had cried myself dry. Now, I just felt hollow and wrung out.

Xarek touched down in a clearing in the forest behind a ridge of hills that separated us from prying eyes in the city. I slid off his back and landed on numb legs, staring blankly at the leaves covering the forest floor. There was a small thunderclap and then the human-shaped Xarek stood in front of me again.

Suddenly, I found my second wind, half-feral with grief and anger.

"Why the fuck didn't you turn back?" I hissed, getting right up in Xarek's face, even though he was easily a head taller than me and twice as wide. "We could have saved him! You just left him there!" I hit him in the chest once, then again, but it was useless against his bulk.

He caught my wrist before I could hit him a third time and held it gently but firmly. "I couldn't risk it," Xarek said with genuine regret. "Getting you and the artifact away from that place was my first priority. If I turned back, we would have run the risk of not only getting you captured, but me as well. Imagine what Morgana could do with access to a dragon. I'm sorry, but I stand by my choice."

A dry, shuddering sob tore out of me, and I turned away from him, yanking my wrist free. I stomped through the dead leaves, digging my fingers into my hair. I had let it happen. If we had waited a few more minutes, if I'd trusted the uneasy feeling in my gut…

Then we would have wound up facing down Gabriel's father, and shit would have gone sideways for all of us. Wouldn't it? Or would we have been able to beat the odds and get away together?

Something in me gave out, and I began to cry again. I'd left Gabriel behind. I had just gotten him back, and now I'd failed him, left him in his awful father's clutches. I should have done something, anything . Last time the curse had gotten hold of me, I'd been able to float. Maybe if I'd let myself go and allowed it to take over, I could've flown to Gabriel's side? Or maybe I would've completely lost control again and made everything worse.

By then, I didn't really have any more tears in me, so it was just wracking sobs and a shocking amount of snot. A few minutes later, I heard the crunch of Xarek's footsteps through the leaves. He cleared his throat discreetly and dangled a white cloth in front of me.

"Thanks." I sniffled and took the handkerchief. Once I'd dried my face and blew my nose, I felt a little more human.

"We should probably get moving. Your friends will be worried about you. Are you up for walking? Because I can carry you if you're not."

"I can walk," I muttered, glaring up at him with eyes that were almost certainly red-rimmed.

"I know you can," Xarek said. "You don't have to. You barely weigh anything, and I like to be useful."

"I'm not weak," I insisted, although he hadn't said I was.

Xarek huffed out a rueful laugh. "I know. You just seem tired. Besides, I like helping."

I wiped my nose on the last remaining dry spot on the hanky, squinting up at him as I got to my feet. "So, what, you'd just carry me bridal style through the woods?"

"Of course not," Xarek told me. "Piggyback."

As much as I hated to admit it, it was a lot faster to let him do the walking. He kept up a steady, even pace with me on his back, and didn't make conversation. I was grateful for the quiet. The healing potion Isabella had given me hours ago was starting to lose its oomph, and I was exhausted and achy. Xarek carried me through the woods to the curve of a road, where a well-maintained station wagon was parked. He knelt to let me off his back and unlocked the passenger door first, then slid into the driver's seat, the car shifting under his weight.

The inside of the car was pristine, except for a faded princess sticker crookedly pasted to the inside of one of the back windows. He had those cup holder liners you could take out and run through the dishwasher, and an organizer strapped to the back of the passenger seat. Xarek dug around in the compartments of the organizer and handed me a travel pack of tissues, a single-serving bag of trail mix, and a plastic bottle of water.

"Shotgun gets to pick the music," he told me.

I didn't feel like listening to music. I didn't want to like Xarek. In fact, I wanted to hate him. I wanted to kick and scream so hard that I found a way to turn back the clock and keep Gabriel away from his lunatic dad. I had to get him back. But… I wouldn't get any closer to freeing Gabriel by being a dick to the people who were trying to help me. I took a deep breath. Somehow, I would get him back. I would find a way. But first, I wet a couple of the tissues with some of the water and wiped my face, which helped a little, although it left me holding a ball of crumpled, wet paper.

Xarek plucked it from my hand and dropped it into a trash bin behind the passenger seat, before starting the car and pulling out onto the road.

Annoyingly, Xarek was winning me over with his sheer competence and preparedness. I got the sense that if I had gone full temper tantrum, he would've just waited me out and then asked if I needed a snack. It should've felt patronizing, but he was so earnest about everything.

I sat in silence for a moment, scanning the interior of the car like I was on the job and looking for clues. I had a hunch, and following it seemed a hell of a lot better than letting myself think about what had happened on the rooftop.

"How many kids do you have?" I asked.

Xarek shot me a surprised glance, barely looking away from the road, and then smiled broadly. I could see a hint of dimples under the beard. "Is it that obvious?"

"The Cinderella sticker in the back kinda gave it away."

"None of my own," he told me. "But about a dozen nieces and nephews. I babysit a lot."

"Tell me about them," I prompted. I definitely didn't want music, and I didn't want to have to contribute to a conversation, but the idea of sitting in awkward silence while we drove back into the city made my skin prickle.

"Well, Vari—she's my youngest sister's eldest daughter—she's just old enough that her wings are starting to come in, so…"

Xarek rambled happily about his small army of nieces and nephews for the entire drive back to Eldoria, which suited me just fine. By the time we pulled up to Gabriel's manor, I felt a little less wrung out. The wards let me in, which made something odd and twisty happen in my chest. I stepped through the front door with Xarek in tow. Everyone was gathered in the front hall, and their heads snapped toward us immediately. Marcus was pacing, vape clenched in his teeth, and Lissa and Vic were tucked close together on a chaise. They had been talking quietly to each other when we came in. Isabella was sitting on the steps next to Theo, who looked reassuringly normal. Last time I'd seen Theo, they'd been dead on the ground, killed by my magic. No, killed by me. I couldn't let myself off the hook like that.

Marcus started toward me, then caught sight of Xarek and froze. He cleared his throat, blinked rapidly a few times, and turned his attention back to me. "You got out," he said. "We heard the alarm. We thought…"

"I thought you guys tripped the alarm," I said with a frown. "It scared the shit out of me."

"Wasn't us," Isabella said. "Although it was—" Her brow crinkled. "Where's Gabriel? He told us he'd meet up with you on the roof."

I swallowed hard, staring down at my shoes against the polished tile of the entryway.

Xarek clapped a hand on my shoulder and spoke up. "Gabriel was taken by his father," he said. It was like all of the air had been sucked out of the room. I could feel the eyes of Gabriel's vampire friends—his chosen family—boring into me.

"What happened?" Lissa asked after an agonizingly long silence. Her normally boisterous voice had gone faint and thready.

"Lord De Montclair was prepared for us," Marcus said. "He found our little group, and Gabriel split off to draw him away. We thought he would be able to get away with you, but... well, clearly we were incorrect."

"Clearly," Lissa echoed numbly.

"We saw it happen," I said. I felt about two inches tall. "He made it up to the roof, but his father was right behind him."

Xarek took a half-step forward. "I was the one who made the decision to leave the citadel without Gabriel. We were already in flight, and I wasn't willing to risk all three of us being taken. Evangeline wanted to help him, but I refused." He kept his voice even and calm, but the implication was clear: if anyone had a problem with his decision, they should take it up with him, not me. I felt pathetically grateful. I was already being rightfully blamed for the stuff I had done. The idea of being blamed for things out of my control did not appeal to me.

"It was a reasonable choice. In fact, I made the same one myself," someone said from the landing of the grand, sweeping stairs. Pretty much all of us jumped, and Isabella and Theo twisted around to look at the stairs behind them. Standing there, half-hidden in a shadow, was Iskra De Montclair.

Lady De Montclair had Gabriel's high, carved cheekbones and plush mouth, with a sharp nose and sharper eyes. She had the sort of face you'd expect to see carved onto the figurehead of a warship. When I'd met her before, she'd been decked out in brocade, but now she was wearing a simple dark gray dress that made her look a bit like Martha Graham. Yet she still seemed just as regal.

Iskra descended the stairs slowly, trailing one hand down the banister as she went. She knew she had the spotlight and intended to make the most of it.

"Roland won't seriously hurt Gabriel, at least not physically. When he has a victory, he likes to take his time to gloat, and he always lets his guard down. It will be much easier to retrieve my son once Roland has gotten complacent."

"What are you doing here?" I blurted.

Waiting for Roland to get lax about security didn't sound like a good idea. I didn't know if I trusted Iskra. Did she have some ulterior motive for being here? Or was I just on edge and paranoid from exhaustion and the dark magic rising in my system?

Iskra raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "I assumed you would wish to aid Gabriel. Your merry band struck me as very… eager to help." She made wanting to help sound like a slightly embarrassing disease.

"How did you get in? None of the wards were tripped," Theo said. They'd shot to their feet, and from their posture—tense hands, loose knees—they were ready to charge. I didn't like their odds if they tried anything.

Iskra gave us a look of faint amusement. "I have my ways. After breaking into the citadel this evening, getting into my own son's home was child's play."

Marcus was the first one who put it together. "You," he said. "You were the one who set off the alarms."

Iskra's regal face creased into a scowl for just a moment before smoothing back out. "A regrettable lapse on my part," she said. "I do hope it didn't cause you any trouble."

"You were breaking into your own vault?" I asked.

"I'd left a few things behind," Iskra said. I thought of the walls covered in tiny drawers. A few, huh? "I wanted to reclaim them before my husband could scatter them to his little hideouts." She said the word ‘husband' the way some people would say ‘rotting flesh wound.'

"Roland doesn't have the eye for magic that I do," she continued. "But some of those trinkets could be very dangerous in the wrong hands. I didn't think it wise to give him a chance to realize just what he had access to." She'd reached the foot of the stairs now, and Theo jumped back to let her pass. Iskra glided across the smooth marble. "After all," she said, clearly enjoying her ability to hold the entire room's attention, "look at how much damage he was able to do with one little curse knife." She tapped me right on the solar plexus, right where the curse had hit me, and when I looked down I saw that the spot was soaked through with black ooze. The curse was getting stronger again.

"You know what he did to me," I said. Weirdly, it was a relief. Iskra was incredibly poised and radiated competence, even if she was undeniably dramatic and manipulative.

"I do." She gave me a faint smile. "And I know how to fix it. Consider it payment in advance for saving my son."

Half an hour later, I was in one of the spare bedrooms, sitting on the edge of the bed while Iskra and Marcus inspected the knife. Isabella was there as well, leaning against the wall by the door, with her arms crossed over her chest.

"How do you know about all this stuff, anyway?" I asked Iskra. I'd stripped out of my tourist sweatshirt, leaving myself in a tank top, feeling chilly and vulnerable. Vampires didn't generally care too much about room temperature, so the house was freezing. Goosebumps covered my arms.

Iskra glanced up at me. "All powerful vampires have gifts. You know this, yes? I'm not sure what your kind are taught of my people these days."

"I know some vampires can read minds," I said. "And control them. I've seen Gabriel do it with animals."

She nodded once, briskly, and I was a bit embarrassed by how pleased I was to have her approval. "Some can touch minds, yes. Some can direct certain animals, or fly, or create small, localized weather patterns. Some such as myself can see where magic has been shaped. I enjoy excellence in all things, and I like to surround myself with beauty. As such, I've amassed quite a collection of particularly well-crafted magical items over the years. To pass the time, I turned to studying them. I may not have the hands-on experience, but I'm extremely well-versed in the academic aspects of magic."

"It must be fascinating to see magic around you," Marcus said, setting out bottles and boxes he'd pulled from the pockets of his cargo pants. "How does the curse look with your ability?"

"Generally, if I focus my attention on a witch, I can see their magic as something like a diagram of nerves in the body. Lines of light connecting through their bodies. In Evangeline's case, there's a large disturbance right at her core." She gestured at my solar plexus. "I can see the curse feeding off your own energy. The lines of power around it are dim, and a few have gone entirely dark."

I didn't love being talked about like some sort of medical curiosity to be poked and prodded. If Marcus started taking notes, I would absolutely lose my shit. I rubbed my hands over my arms, trying to chase the goosebumps away.

"Great," I snapped. "Can we get on with the curse-breaking, or do you want to keep talking about me like I'm a frog you're dissecting?" That wasn't me, though. The curse had pushed me into saying that. I pulled back control of myself, taking a deep breath and unclenching my jaw. "Sorry," I said. "I can definitely feel it getting stronger."

"Not to worry," Marcus said cheerfully. "You'll be feeling better in no time at all, Evangeline. That's a professional guarantee. Now, goodnight, and rest well." He tapped me on the forehead, and his magic wrapped around me like a cloud of cotton candy. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

I woke up feeling rested, which stressed me out. Generally, it meant I'd slept for way longer than I'd intended. I was also ravenously hungry. Groaning, I pushed myself up in the bed. I felt… pretty all right. When I pushed my shirt up and checked the spot where the curse knife had hit me, my fingers brushed over a scar that felt long healed. Between that and the scratched-through tattoo on my arm, I was really getting a whole bad girl look.

I stood up slowly, taking a mental inventory of my body as I went. Legs: still there. Arms: feeling rubbery, but definitely attached. Head: sore, but in a way that spoke to just needing to chug some water. Magic: strong, and not trying to make me destroy myself.

"Nice," I said out loud.

Food was first on my to-do list. The vampires had started keeping some human food around the place since I'd been staying here, and as I headed down to the kitchen, I tried to figure out what to eat based on my vague memory of what they'd had in stock a week ago. It turned out to be unnecessary; the kitchen was already occupied. Marcus stood in front of the stove, flipping pancakes on a hot griddle. He brightened when he saw me.

"You're awake! How are you feeling? Have you noticed any lingering ill effects so far?"

"I feel good," I said, sitting on one of the barstools tucked against the island. "How long was I out for?"

"Ah," Marcus said, looking a little sheepish. He slid a stack of pancakes across the countertop to me. They were flecked with banana slices and little pieces of bacon. "Two and a half days."

"Jesus fuck," I said, jumping to my feet. "What about Gabriel? He's been with his father for two and a half days?" I wasn't quite yelling, but it was close. My voice was scratchy from lack of use, making me sound even worse than I suddenly felt.

"Evangeline, you needed to rest," Marcus said placatingly, handing me a fork. "We haven't been whiling away the hours while you were unconscious, either. We tried to get to Gabriel, but… Well, it didn't go well. We were lucky to get back here safely."

I threw the fork down onto the countertop and opened my mouth, but he wasn't done.

"Don't tell me we should have woken you. You've done your fair share of curse-breaking, Evangeline, and you know we couldn't. If we had woken you, we would've risked a fragment of the dark magic remaining within you. The curse was rooted deep within, and we had to ensure it was well and truly out of your system. Otherwise everyone would have been at risk, and Gabriel would still be in just as much trouble. "

As if he was reading my mind, Marcus pressed a hand to the counter and leaned toward me. "Now we've regrouped from our previous attempt, and we have the rough outline of a new and improved rescue plan in place," he told me. "Although it is dependent on you using your magic, which is another reason why we had to let you rest."

At least they hadn't left Gabriel to rot while I was out. Still, my heart thundered. What was Roland doing to him? Was he in pain? Was he scared? My mind was spiraling into worst-case scenarios.

"We're going to go retrieve him as soon as you're ready," Marcus said. "I give you my word. But that does mean you're going to need to give yourself time to rest, because if you burn yourself out…"

"He'll be in there even longer," I said, barely louder than a whisper. I didn't look up at Marcus because I couldn't bear to see the sympathy in his eyes. Slumping onto the stool, I picked up the fork. "I'm gonna push myself," I said. "You might have to tell me when I should stop, and I probably won't like it."

"Oh, I'm very used to that. You never like it. That won't stop me, though."

"You promise we're gonna go get him as soon as possible?"

"I promise," Marcus said. "And as soon as we get him to safety, we'll make sure he's well taken care of."

I took a resentful bite of the pancakes. They were pretty good, which was a nice surprise. Marcus liked cooking, but he was more creative than he was talented. Even if they'd been another attempt at his chicken Kiev pancakes, I probably would've eaten them. As soon as I had food in my mouth, I realized I was ravenous. I scarfed down pancake after pancake, and Marcus kept working through the massive bowl of batter, doling out ladlesful onto the skillet.

Marcus was uneasily silent at first, but as I relaxed a little, he began to chatter his usual nonsense. He normally seemed pretty content to talk to himself, but I saw the line of his shoulders ease a bit once he'd pulled me out of my head enough for me to respond. The events of that day at the citadel still played over and over in my mind, so I decided to fixate on one of the less horrific details.

"So," I said, loading up another forkful of pancake. "You got kinda weird when you saw the dragon. Do you two know each other or something?"

If I didn't know better, I would've sworn Marcus went a little pink. "I have no idea what you could possibly mean," he said.

"Wait. Oh, my God, wait. Are you"—I glanced around, lowering my voice conspiratorially—"are you into him?" It was silly, but it felt damn good to tease him again.

"This is a baseless accusation," Marcus protested, but his eyes were crinkling at the corners.

"You are," I said, pointing my pancake-laden fork at him.

Marcus threw up his hands, the picture of long-suffering affront. His finger braces flashed in the light, but the sight of them didn't turn my stomach quite as much anymore. "There's a slim possibility that Xarek and I have… crossed paths in the past."

"You fucked that dragon," I said.

"If you must know," Marcus said, then paused to take a prim sip of coffee. "That dragon fucked me."

"Hoooly shit."

"It was simply a one-time thing," he told me quickly.

"You wouldn't have been weird about seeing him if that was all it was," I accused. I knew Marcus, and he'd been normal—well, as much as he ever was—in much more awkward situations.

"Well, all right, it was several times, but all over the course of one night."

"Wow, okay, we're getting dangerously close to the limit of information about your sex life that I can handle. And don't think I don't know when you're deflecting."

"I'm not deflecting. How were the pancakes? You seemed to enjoy them. I think I've really nailed down the recipe."

I flicked a piece of banana at him, which he dodged neatly. "All right, all right. I'll let you keep your secrets for now."

Marcus smiled at me, warm and fatherly. "I'm glad to see you feeling yourself again," he said quietly. He slid the last of the pancakes, still hot from the skillet, onto my plate. "I'll let the others know you're awake. I'm sure they'll be thrilled."

"Some of them, maybe," I muttered.

Marcus paused in the kitchen doorway. "Isabella helped, you know. She was instrumental, in fact. I haven't seen her push herself that hard, magically speaking, in quite some time."

I looked down at my pancakes. On the last one he'd arranged the banana slices and bacon into a smiley face.

"Thanks," I said.

He smiled, then left me alone with my thoughts and my pancakes.

My gaze landed on a row of shiny appliances on the kitchen counter—the baby bottle warmers the vampires used to get their synth-blood up to body temperature before drinking it. I could vividly remember Gabriel's embarrassed look when I'd first come upon them.

God, I missed him. I hoped desperately that he was all right, and I knew he definitely wasn't. Tears stung the back of my eyes. I would find him. There was no other option.

The shreds of a vague memory tugged at me. I'd dreamed about him while I was recovering. We were in bed, and I'd… the edges of the dream were fading quickly, and if I tried too hard to grab onto them, they'd slip through my fingers faster. Instead, I focused on my pancakes.

When only one of the smiley face's eyes remained, I remembered.

In the dream, I'd told Gabriel to bite me.