Allegiance (11 page)

“How dare you!” Amelie shrieked. She straddled the girl, her savage hands gripping tightly onto her biceps. Of course, the girl was too petrified to answer, staring wide-eyed at the hovering crazy woman, which only seemed to infuriate Amelie. “He’s mine! Mine!” she screeched, shaking the servant like a rag doll, the poor girl’s head slamming repeatedly against the floor.

Julian stood frozen, his eyes popping out with shock, as he witnessed the attack. Thankfully, Caden seemed to have his wits about him. “Amelie!” he shouted, immediately beside them, yanking his fanatical sister off before she bashed in the young servant’s skull. Amelie fought him like a caged cat, all claws and feet. “Snap out if it, you crazy bitch!” he roared, giving Amelie a hard smack upside the head.

That seemed to reset something inside her because she calmed down immediately, a flicker of bewilderment passing across her face. “Here,” Caden said, shoving her over to Julian, who immediately wrapped his hands around as if to restrain her. I thought that was comical, given she could pummel him to a pulp if she wanted to. Luckily, Amelie stayed put.

Caden reached down and gently helped the ghostly white servant to her feet. Before he guided her out of the room, his hand gripped her chin. He held her gaze. “You tripped over the rug and dropped your platter … it was an accident …,” he crooned softly. She nodded numbly. Compelled. That was good. The poor girl didn’t need to be afraid of being murdered each day she came in to work.

Once the girl was on her way, Caden spun on his heels, throwing Amelie a look of pure disgust. “What the hell is wrong with you? It was an innocent smile!”

“Yeah, but … she didn’t have to remind Julian to eat! And what’s with referring to him by his name? She’s a servant!” Amelie snapped back petulantly.

Caden’s arms crossed his chest. “Probably because she knows Julian and Evangeline are the only humans in this room, and the staff is under strict orders from Sofie to make sure they eat.”

“Oh … right. Sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” Amelie sheepishly looked to the ground.

Caden wasn’t having any of it, though. “You know damn well what came over you. You need to remember before you go all Jekyll and Hyde on us again.”

She nodded and then turned to look at Julian. “Sorry. Sometimes I get jealous. I don’t do jealous well.”

“You don’t say.” Julian scratched the back of his head. I thought I caught a hint of a flattered smile but I couldn’t be too sure.

Amelie giggled and leaned her body into his. “Yeah, especially if I’m into the guy. I turn into a crazy chick!” She waved her hands around in the air and shook her head.

“Yeah, but you’re my crazy chick,” he said, his brown eyes twinkling with delight, his hand moving to cup her chin and pull her close. Her springy ash blond curls swayed as he tilted her head back to lay a soft kiss on her lips. I groaned in displeasure before I could stop myself. I felt like I was waving goodbye to the passengers of the
Titanic
as it sailed away, all the while knowing what the trip had in store.

“Julian?” I asked, eager to interrupt their intimate exchange. No answer. No gesture. It was like I wasn’t even there. “Julian!” I barked, a touch harsher than perhaps was necessary.

His head snapped over at me, startled, the cheesy love fog disappearing immediately. “Hey, Evie,” he offered, rubbing the back of his head again.

I glared at him, shooting
what are you doing?
daggers with my eyes.

He responded with a shrug and pleading look, comprehending my disapproval, clear as day. “How are you feeling?” I forced out. I was trying to be civil but couldn’t deny the sparks of anger.

Amelie answered for him. “Don’t worry. He was so tired, he couldn’t see straight!”

“That’s not what I meant …” I smirked. “Are you feeling different today? Like … from the Tribe’s magic?”

He frowned. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Caden, are his thoughts getting murkier, like mine?” I asked, though keeping my focus on Julian. When Caden didn’t answer, I turned to repeat my question and found him staring at me, his expression flat, anger heating his gaze. “Is he murkier?” I repeated warily.

Caden gave a noncommittal shrug and shook his head.

“Okay. Maybe he’ll be okay.”

“Just you what?” Julian asked, his brow furrowed with worry. He dropped Amelie’s hands and moved forward to grab my arm, his dark good looks now marred with concern. “What’s wrong, Evie?”

“Oh …” I began but my voice drifted off.
Remember those hideous Tribe creatures that scared the daylights out of us, Julian? Well … guess what I’m going to be next Halloween
…
and every other day for the rest of my life …

Before I could answer, my body was yanked back and out of Julian’s reach, strong arms wrapping possessively around my chest. “Nothing. She’s fine,” Caden said, a dangerous edge in his tone. “Or she will be.” I looked up to find him staring at Julian with clenched teeth. What was going on with him?

Loud voices in the hallway broke up the awkward situation. We all ran out to see what the commotion was. We found Sofie and Mage squared off against Viggo and Mortimer, Viggo’s face a shade lighter than his normal pale, and Mortimer’s brow halfway up his forehead.

“Where did they come from?” Mortimer exclaimed with incredulity.

“What do you mean?” Sofie answered, clearly amused.

Viggo issued a low, feral sound. “I mean … I killed the last of them and yet seven are standing on our doorstep! That’s what I mean!” A mixture of outrage and shock swirled around Viggo—such a rare sight to see.

It suddenly clicked. The werewolves had arrived.

“Yes, you did! And, boy, they haven’t forgotten about you,” Sofie teased. My heart skipped a beat as I watched her. We had enough problems. Taunting a psychopath wouldn’t end well. What was more, I still didn’t believe that some allegiance to Sofie would stop Viggo from slaughtering the lot of them.

“I will—” Viggo began but Mage cut him off.

“You will do nothing that breaks your allegiance, will you, Viggo?”

If anger were demonstrated as an illustration in a dictionary, it would look like Viggo’s face at that moment, contorted and seething, ready to explode, his words forced out in a short burst through gritted teeth. I had never seen him lose his cool. Despite the real threat to all of us, I enjoyed it.

“That was before—”

Mage cut him off again, her tone sharp. “There is no before. There just is. You gave us your word. You, a man of unrivaled integrity, right?”

“Breaking an allegiance served as blackmail doesn’t sound so dishonorable to me,” Viggo spat back, but I gathered it was an irrelevant point. Mortimer had alluded to the value of honor before. It used to define a person, to determine his or her worth. Although crazy, Viggo was still old school. Mage’s challenge just might stay his hand. For now.

Mage continued. “I warned you before, Viggo … Sofie may be willing to keep you alive for Veronique’s sake, but I harbor no such desires. It would be easier for all if I made Veronique’s choice for her, don’t you agree?” She added that last bit sweetly, but her intent was crystal clear. Cross her and she’d eliminate the choice for Veronique.
That’s the Mage I remember
, I thought.

Mortimer finally spoke again. “They will help us control the situation when Lilly gets here. I’m not exactly a fan of those things, either. However, they will be of use to us. We need all the help we can get.”

Again with this reference to this fearsome Lilly character. I still didn’t know any more about her. The way they described her, I was beginning to think I’d be meeting a five-headed vampire Godzilla.

Viggo’s lips twisted in disapproval, unconvinced by Mortimer’s logic. “Until they sink their vile werewolf teeth into us.”

“Werewolves!” Amelie exclaimed in shock. “Oh, I’ve never seen one in real life! They were killed off with the war in our world.”

As if Mortimer and the others just realized they had a crowd of curious observers, they turned to us. “They’re not kittens, Amelie,” Mortimer snapped.

She responded with an exaggerated pout and frown, not yet accustomed to Mortimer’s rebukes.

Viggo jumped in, lightening the mood in his typical twisted fashion. “Well, now’s your chance! So nice of you to join us, Amelie and Julian … finally,” he purred, a wink directed at Julian.

Julian turned beet red. I couldn’t tell if it was because of the insinuation that he and Amelie had been—busy—or if it was simply a natural reaction to Viggo.

Amelie ignored both of them. “Are they dangerous?”

Sofie rolled her eyes, no longer finding amusement with the little bomb she’d dropped. “Okay, enough about the wolves already. They’re not a big deal. We have bigger things to deal with.”

“Like what exactly?” Amelie probed. It was then that I realized she was more in the dark than I was with regards to what was going on, having been holed up with Julian for the past twenty-four-plus hours.

“Like preparing. Lilly has accepted our invitation.”

I heard Amelie’s harsh whisper behind me. “Who’s Lilly?”

***

By late afternoon, I’d exchanged my inner turmoil of the Tribe’s magic and its implications for pure exhaustion. I wasn’t sure if it was physical or mental, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open, drifting in and out while curled up on the couch. At some point, I felt my body floating through the air, cradled within someone’s arms. I pictured strong, healing angel’s arms, carrying me up to the heavens where all was calm and safe and no disease coursed through my veins. Soft, low music swirled somewhere in the back of my head, colliding with my thoughts, dulling them to blissful garble. A few times, my eyes cracked open to see jade stars shining down on me. And then my angel was placing me down in a bed of fluffy white clouds. I sunk further and further in until they swaddled me in their soft embrace.

Sharp, tingly pins and needles coursed through my body to my fingertips. I was in that same dark, dank room that smelled of dirty water. I was chilled to the bone. This time, though, instead of lying against the cold, concrete ground, I was sitting on it. A steady drip echoed in the room, drilling into my eardrum.
Drip, drip, drip
. As I hunched in closer to myself to fight off the chill, I noticed how badly my back throbbed. It felt like my skin had been badly burned by the sun. I knew that couldn’t be the case and yet I longed to peel my shirt off, to eliminate all contact. Reaching down, I rubbed the light, gauzy material of my dress with my fingers. Too light to irritate skin, one would think.

Drip, drip, drip ...

The same crack of light stared at me from beneath that same door. Just like the other night. My Veronique dream. Would a crazed, whip-wielding witch come flying through the door at any second?

A shadow passed in front of the crack of light. Inside the room. It was small and moved haltingly. Scurried was more like it. My focus glued to the crack, I waited to see it pass again. A moment later, a softness brush up against my forearm. My arm shot out reflexively to launch it across the room. It let out a squeak of displeasure. “Ahhh! I hate rats!” I cried out, shuddering.

“What?”

I froze with the single word. Not because there was another person in my dark, dank cell. The question had come from my lips, but it wasn’t me who’d spoken. The thought wasn’t mine—I knew that much—but my mouth had moved.

“What?” I echoed, testing for a difference. This time it was clearly my thought, my brain controlling my mouth’s movements.

Silence. My eyes shifted in the darkness, warily, waiting for it to happen again. After a long moment, I let out a heavy sigh. “I’m all kinds of messed up,” I muttered.

My lips moved in a gasp. “How are you doing this?” Another foreign thought asked the question.

My stomach knotted. What the hell was going on? I was used to Max’s intruding voice inside my head. But this was different. This was like I was sharing my body with another person. With trepidation, I answered. What’s the worst that could happen?

“How am I doing what?”

“Who is this?” the voice asked, her tone pleading. Before I could answer, she asked, “Do you know Sofie?”

I paused, my curiosity overshadowing sheer terror. This strange back and forth where I controlled my mouth and then I didn’t control it and then I did control it—like what I imagined a person with multiple personalities would need to manage—took some coordination.

“Evangeline,” I answered cautiously. “And yes, I know Sofie.” Then I dared ask the next question, the one I was fairly certain I knew the answer to. “Are you Veronique?”

Another gasp. “Yes! How is this happening?”

And there it was. I knew then and there that this was no dream. Somehow I was still connected to Veronique. Even though the Tribe released me from the curse, we were still bound. Of course! It made perfect sense. When I sat atop that platform with the Tribe circling and chanting below, when I saw that vision of Fiona dead in the atrium, I was witnessing it all through Veronique’s eyes the moment she was released. Now I was somehow connecting with her in my dreams.

“Evangeline?” She pulled me back from my thoughts.

“I don’t know how it’s happening. When I fall asleep, I find myself here. I thought I was dreaming at first,” I explained.
Here we go again
.