Anathema (Causal Enchantment, #1) (16 page)

He offered no response as he struggled to
stand.

“
Leonardo …” I began
hesitantly.

“
Call me Leo if you wish. Leonardo
is such a mouthful.”

“
Okay … Leo.” An inconsequential
question suddenly popped into my head. “Hey, why do you have such
an Italian name when you’re so … British?”

He chuckled. “My father was Italian and I grew
up in England.”

“
Oh.”

“
Was that your burning
question?”

I shook my head. “Should I be worried about
anything?”

He sighed, gave me another strange smile, then
walked over to throw the rag into the fireplace. I sensed that was
the only reply I would get.

My eyes roamed aimlessly around the library,
landing on the painting above the mantel. On the black pendant.
“Why is Sofie’s sister’s picture on the wall?”

“
Do you normally ask so many
questions?”

“
Sorry,” I mumbled,
flushing.

Leo chuckled, glancing up at the portrait. “I
believe she was a lady friend.”

“
Lady friend … oh, you mean
girlfriend?”

A rare smirk appeared on Leo’s face. “Yes,
girlfriend, you young folk would call her.”

I smiled sheepishly. “Whose?”

He pursed his lips. “Can’t say,
really.”

“
So when did Viggo and Mortimer—” I
stopped abruptly.
‘When did they switch teams?’ God,
Evangeline. Be a little more tactful.

“
When did Viggo and Mortimer what?”
Leo probed.

I searched for the appropriate words. “Begin
their relationship?”

He repeated my question to himself, confused.
Then, suddenly, his face lit up and he erupted in raucous laughter.
I widened my eyes, startled by the unexpected reaction.

“
Viggo and Mortimer are no couple. I
wouldn’t even call them friends. Partners in a common interest, one
may say.”

I struggled to translate his words as he stoked
the fire.
What a cryptic old butler
.

“
Although I suppose I can see how
someone on the outside may mistake their relationship,” he
continued. “They live together, spend all their time together, and
squabble like an old married couple.”

“
Who squabbles like an old married
couple?” a deep voice boomed.

I spun around to see Viggo and Mortimer
strolling into the library.
But where’s Max?
I held my
breath, waiting for the dogs to trot in behind them. They were
never too far away. When none of them did, my stomach tightened
another notch. What if the police had them? They’d destroy them for
that massacre, even if they did save my life.

“
Where’s Max?” I asked as the two
men took up positions before me, arms crossed over their chests.
Viggo’s face displayed the same placid expression as usual. In
stark contrast, Mortimer’s was primed to throw daggers. I couldn’t
help shrinking guiltily onto the couch, feeling less like an
eighteen–year–old adult guest and more like a naughty six–year–old
in need of a spanking.

“
Busy,” Mortimer said.

“
How’s the hand?” Viggo asked,
eyeing my bandages, a strange grin on his face.

“
A bit sore.”

An uncomfortable silence followed. “So … were
those the protesters you were warning me about?” I asked
awkwardly.

“
You could say that,” Viggo
replied.

Another long pause. “How much trouble are the
dogs in?”

“
None. It’s been taken care of,”
Viggo answered as if referring to a minor bill needing
payment.

“
What does that mean?” I asked
warily.

“
It’s cleaned up. No evidence. No
witnesses.”

A chill ran down my spine. “But, it was broad
daylight in a major park. And there was so much blood.”

“
So … ?” Viggo shrugged,
unconcerned.

“
So …” I faltered. “Aren’t you
afraid you’ll be accessories to murder? The police would
understand, wouldn’t they? Wouldn’t it be easier to report it?” I
pictured a full–scale S.W.A.T. team crashing through the gate and
pinning the lot of us—the gentle old butler included—to the
ground.

“
It would have been easier if you
had
obeyed
us,” Mortimer answered through clenched
teeth.

I cowered further into the couch.

“
Mortimer, please,” Viggo said,
patting the air in a soothing gesture. “I’m sure Evangeline has an
excellent reason for defying us.” His raised eyebrow indicated he
was expecting the explanation right then and there.

Did I tell them the truth? Did I accuse them? I
had gained no proof through my adventure. Only more
questions.

“
Are you going to explain yourself,
or sit there and fidget all afternoon?” Mortimer said, drumming his
fingers loudly on a console table.

“
Well … I didn’t think I was
disobeying. It was just a suggestion, wasn’t it?” I finally
answered in a meek voice.

Mortimer’s fist slammed down on the table,
sending a lamp flying and me cowering.

The library door exploded open and four giant
black bodies barreled through. The dogs. In seconds they were
circling the couch where I sat, their hackles raised and growling a
warning at Mortimer.

If the wall of fangs and froth intimidated him,
Mortimer didn’t let on; he stared Max down, looking ready to lunge
himself.

Sofie ran into the room.

“
I thought you had him under
control.” Viggo’s voice was calm but I sensed the underlying
contempt.

“
You try controlling that beast.”
Her eyes fell on me. She took several quick steps forward then
froze, glancing uncertainly at Viggo.

“
It’s okay, Max,” I said, reaching
up to stroke his side, trying to calm him. I examined his shoulder
for the wound. Nothing. I must have mixed up the sides. I checked
the other shoulder. Nothing. No wound, no bandage, no dried blood.
I screwed my face up. Yes, he had been shot. I remembered. “I saw
the bullet wound. His blood was all over my hand,” I said out
loud.

No one answered. I looked up to see worried
glances passing between them.

“
Leo. Tell them you saw it too,” I
pleaded, frowning my confusion.

Leo shrugged noncommittally, his eyes darting
to Mortimer. He ducked his head and exited without a
word.

“
It happened, didn’t it?” I cried as
tears welled in my eyes, blurring my vision.

“
Do you believe it happened?” Viggo
asked calmly.

I looked at each of them in turn, at their
blank faces. Maybe it hadn’t happened.
Is this what a
schizophrenic feels like, skating through delusions and reality so
seamlessly that it’s impossible to discern which is which?
I
raised my hand to see the bandage. I felt the throbbing ache of my
gash, a result of the attack. No, this had to be real.

“
I warned you two,” Sofie said
softly, her eyes never leaving me.

“
Well, go ahead then, Sofie. Tell
her what you’ve done. See if that doesn’t terrify her, you
self–righteous witch,” Mortimer answered, smiling smugly at
her.

What is he talking about?

In the next instant Sofie was standing where
Mortimer had been and he was airborne, his tall, muscular body
flying through the air and slamming into a wall twenty feet away.
Glass rained down as the impact from his body shattered a mirror
into countless pieces.

I gaped at Sofie, who—with her delicate arms
and her lithe frame—had thrown Mortimer across the room right
before my eyes. It was impossible. It couldn’t have
happened.

Mortimer pushed to his feet and strolled back,
brushing glass from his jacket sleeves. “My, you’ve gotten strong,
Sofie. Who have you been snacking on?” He paused only a foot away
from her, looming, their eyes communicating silently.

What did he say?
My stomach dropped
with the realization that this was beyond hallucination. This was a
full–scale delusion. There was no conspiracy, no one was tricking
me. I had lost my mind. “None of this is real. The bullet, Sofie’s
lip, my hand, the bites …” I rambled, picturing straitjackets and
padded cells with tiny peepholes and seemingly normal people having
intellectual conversations with empty chairs. Maybe I could share
Eddie’s alley with him. I was his goddess, after all.

“
What bites?” Mortimer suddenly
said, eyes narrowed.

“
No bites. They’re not real. I
thought they were real but they’re not,” I rambled absently,
yanking the collar of my shirt down. “See? Nothing.”

Sofie gasped.

“
Y
ou lying
bitch!” Mortimer snarled. He flew at Sofie, sending her crashing
into a glass side table, which shattered.

“
And you!” Mortimer turned his
furious eyes to Max. “Traitor!”

Max responded with a short but fierce
snarl.

“
I didn’t know this would happen!”
Sofie shrieked, on her feet in seconds and lunging at Mortimer’s
neck with a jagged chunk of glass in her hand, intent on
decapitating him.

Mortimer barely avoided the swipe at his
jugular, taking a nick on his shoulder instead. Catching her arm in
mid–swing on her second attempt, he snapped her forearm with a
sickening crack. He followed with a backhand that split her bottom
lip wide open.

Arm dangling and blood pouring from her lip,
she grimaced in pain. “Is that all you’ve got?” she grated,
taunting him.

Mortimer’s dark eyes flashed with rage. He was
going to kill her. I couldn’t watch. I buried my face in Max’s
body, my hands digging into his fur, bracing myself for the
blood–curdling screams.

I heard Viggo’s serene voice instead.
“Everyone, calm down please.”

Peeking out from behind Max, I saw Viggo
standing between the two of them, his arms outstretched. “You have
some explaining to do, Sofie,” he said calmly.

I dared look at her. And gasped. Her lip was as
beautiful and unharmed as ever, except for a patch of smeared blood
which she now dabbed at with a cloth, using the arm that should be
hanging limp at her side.

“
Please stop fighting. You’re
terrifying Evangeline. She’s already been through enough
today!”

All three turned to regard me. “And I suppose
you have some questions,” Viggo said, smiling gently. He took a
step toward me.

Max growled.

Viggo raised his hands in surrender and backed
up to sit in one of the armchairs. “But us first. Why did you sneak
off to the park?”

I gaped at Sofie’s uninjured lip a moment
longer. “I was looking for an explanation for the
bites.”

“
And how does Central Park offer
that explanation?” Viggo asked.

Here we go
. “I thought you two were
drugging me, taking me into the park, and paying a bunch of people
to pretend they’re vampires.” There. It was out there.

Viggo’s jaw dropped, his face twisting in a
mixture of horror and insult.

“
Why on earth would we do that?”
Mortimer stared at me in disbelief.

“
I don’t know … you’re bored? Viggo
is fascinated with vampires and I overheard you guys fighting the
other day about a game. Anyway, I figured if I could find the
statue in the woods, then I would have proof.”

“
How would the statue prove that?
You’re not making any sense, my dear Evangeline,” Viggo exclaimed
in frustration.

I sighed. “I had another dream last
night.”

“
And what happened?”

I told them about waking up beside the statue
again, about the cave, and the attack. “And I woke up with these.”
I gestured to my neck.

“
And did you find proof of this
trick you suspect us of?” Mortimer asked, eyebrow
raised.

I shook my head, dropping my gaze to my hands.
I could feel their eyes boring into me, waiting for me to speak.
“Am I going crazy?” I finally asked.

Viggo changed the topic. “These people who
attacked you. How did you come across them?”

“
They cornered me while I was
looking for the statue. Four of them,” I answered, explaining how a
seemingly sweet old lady set the trap.

“
Four of them,” Mortimer repeated,
his expression unreadable.

I nodded. “Three men and a woman. And a dog.” I
shuddered, remembering the mutt’s decapitated head.

“
A woman?” Sofie asked, glancing at
Viggo.

I nodded.

“
And did they tell you who they were
or what they wanted?”

I hesitated. “It didn’t seem random. They knew
you—all of you. They said they’ve been watching you.” I looked at
Sofie. She had known. Yesterday, shopping. She had sensed it
somehow.

“
What exactly did they say?” Viggo
asked.