A Gift of Three (A Shade of Vampire #42)(29)

“You will see.”

He opened the door, revealing a set of narrow stone steps leading down into more darkness. I glanced at Jovi. He nodded, indicating that we should follow the man. It was worth taking the risk to find our friends.

The man lit a lamp on the wall with a match. The light didn’t do much to lift the gloom of the stairwell, but it was better than nothing. As we followed the man down, I started to syphon off him as gently as I could. I didn’t want him to realize what I was doing till it was too late. As I mentally reached out for his energy, I started to realize he wasn’t as human as I’d first thought. He was a supernatural of some kind, but nothing that I recognized. Still, his energy was heady and powerful—almost as warming and enriching as sunlight itself.

“Stop that,” he intoned, pausing on one of the steps.

Jovi and I quickly looked at one another.

“Stop what?” I asked.

“Whatever it is you’re doing. What are you, anyway?” He spun around, glaring at me. “I know you’re a werewolf,” he added dismissively, waving his hand at Jovi, “but you are something else entirely.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I replied, determined not to divulge any information that he might be able to use against us.

He smirked at me, a cruel, calculating glance, but said nothing further, continuing his descent to the bottom of the staircase. I stopped syphoning, realizing I was pushing my luck. I tried to use True Sight to better understand where he was taking us, but there was only one room ahead—with a wooden door, looking as old and crumbling as the rest of the house. The only disturbing thing about it was I couldn’t see through it. The door or the walls around us. I stopped, unwilling to follow the man any further.

“Jovi, wait.” I grasped the material of his shirt. “I think this is a trick.”

Both Jovi and the stranger spun around to face me.

“There’s no trick,” the man replied before Jovi could ask me what was wrong. He looked speculatively at me for a moment. I could see he was wondering what abilities I possessed, and then his eyes lit up in understanding.

“The room we’re about to enter is heavily guarded. Not by living souls, but by ancient wards that you couldn’t possibly comprehend. If you have a gift of advanced sight”—his lip twitched as he registered my look of frustration—“it will be useless here. My sincerest apologies,” he added smoothly, returning his attention to the door. He took out a set of keys. Jovi and I watched, standing side by side, ready for anything that might emerge from the locked room.

A key clicked in the lock, and presently the door swung open. The man stood aside, gesturing for us to enter.

“You first,” Jovi snapped. The man nodded, crossing the threshold. We both followed, entering a cold, damp room. In front of us were three iron tables—they looked a little like old-fashioned hospital gurneys—and on top of them lay three bodies, covered to their necks with white sheets.

I was about to demand an explanation and ask again for our friends, but as I looked more closely at the figures, I realized I was looking at them: the bodies on the tables belonged to Vita, Aida and Phoenix.





Serena





[Hazel and Tejus’s daughter]




Their breathing sounded like panting, short labored breaths that made me terrified, even more so as they lay completely still, their eyes closed, their faces peaceful, as if they were asleep…or in death.

“Oh, my God,” I breathed, rushing over to my brother. I felt for his hand, lifting up part of the sheet to find it. His fingers were ice-cold, and unyielding. I placed mine over them, hoping I could somehow warm him.

“What have you done!” I shouted, turning toward the monster by the door. Jovi was bent over Aida, his figure as still as the bodies on the table. What nightmare have we entered? I had thought this place resembled a stuffy old museum. Now it was fast becoming a house of horrors.

“Nothing,” he replied sternly. “As I told you, they are experiencing a transformation—not activated by me.”

I turned, ready to claw out his eyes, but Jovi beat me to it. Leaping across the room, suddenly more beast than man, he launched himself at our abductor. Jovi reached out to grasp his neck, but the man lifted his arm, slamming it into Jovi’s face. I expected the werewolf to stumble back and cry out at the force of the impact, but instead Jovi flew through the air, clearing the length of the room and slamming into the furthest wall.

“Jovi!” I cried, running toward him.

He sat up as I reached him, looking furious and dazed, but not seriously injured. I turned to face the man, reaching out for him with all the mental strength I could muster. He scowled, feeling my attempts to drain him. With the force of my syphon he should have at least wavered, clutched his head in agony, or cried out. Instead, he cocked an eyebrow, almost amused at my efforts. He closed his eyes, muttering something under his breath that I couldn’t hear. A split second later, he placed his palm on his forehead—gently, almost as if in prayer. I felt my link with his mind break, the tendrils of energy I’d sent out to drain him vanishing as if they were nothing but mists.

“What are you, and what’s your name?” I asked, breathing heavily. My own head had started to ache furiously, drained of any mental reserves I’d had left.