Allegiance (Causal Enchantment #3)(75)
Bitterness leeched into my bones. As much as I wanted to blame the Fates for their twisted games, I had no one to blame but myself for this one. It was here, in this spot five years ago, that I cast that disastrous enchantment. Just after Viggo discovered Evangeline’s existence and ran her mother down with a car. So distraught with the turn of events, I wasn’t thinking straight. I couldn’t have been. If I had, I never would have done it …
That night, the anniversary of Nathan’s death, the only night of the year that I dared visit the chateau, sweeping through the courtyard in a shroud of secrecy to light a candle and beg in vain for his forgiveness. That night, though, on my knees, my heart shattered into a million pieces for Evangeline’s suffering, fueled with hatred for Viggo, I pleaded with the Fates. I begged for the ultimate guardian. Someone who would exist for the soul purpose of keeping my dear girl safe, who could not be stopped for any reason, by any creature—mortal or otherwise, magical or not. To this day, I can’t help feel the urge to bash my head against a brick wall when I replay that criteria, that ask of the Fates.
It didn’t take long for the Fates to answer me. After visiting Nathan’s tombstone—distraught and weary—I stumbled into Nathan’s music room. That was another yearly ritual of mine. When I stepped inside that room, I could still hear Nathan plucking the strings of his violin.
No music played on this night, though. The second I stepped into the dark room, I spotted the lone figure sitting on the Victorian couch, a dark shadow under the moonlight’s stream. Unmoving, back rigid, hands layered on his knee. His cheekbones, his hair, his lips … it was Nathan. I dove forward, falling to my knees, grasping his hands, thanking the Fates for their generosity, their kindness. How stupid of me … So overwhelmed, I didn’t sense the wrongness about him, that cold, rotten air that tainted his surroundings.
It wasn’t until his limp, unloving hands lay lifeless in my grasp, when I peered up into his irises to find milky blue soulless pits boring into me, that I realized this wasn’t a gift from the Fates. This was a new depth to my punishment. A few seconds after, the bomb went off inside my head, revealing all. The Fates liked doing that. One second I know nothing, the next my head is filled with all the details, as if a detailed manual had plunged into my mind. I saw what this thing could do, the danger he would become to the world if loose, passing judgment, taking on the role of a grim reaper. A new level of hatred blossomed inside me for the Fates that night.
Oh, how the Fates must’ve laughed. As if offering a poisoned olive branch, they allowed me the chance to lock him up until I felt the need to release him. That was the night that the magical ward went up and his world became a forty-by-seventy-foot space. He had no idea what was outside the walls and he didn’t care. He was programmed to wait for his bond with Evangeline to be complete. Three years … three hundred years … it mattered not. If she died, he would cease to exist. He couldn’t die. He wasn’t alive.
From that night forward, I struggled to erase all knowledge of my creation. And that was the last night I stepped foot inside the chateau. I would gladly not have returned. Ever. But desperate times called for it. I should’ve known this bizarre Tribal magic would eventually break the cloaking spell. I should’ve taken preventive measures. I should have … I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose, knowing there wasn’t much I could do.
And now Wraith was out. Now, every day, every moment that I wanted to see Evangeline, speak to her, touch her … those demonic pits, impostors in Nathan’s beautiful face, would be there, watching, waiting to lay a lethal hand on me. I hadn’t felt the impact of Wraith’s touch before. That first night, he did not use it on me. I guess he didn’t view me as a threat to Evangeline then. Tonight, though … I shuddered. He made up for it, his fingers—both icy cold and fiery hot—sucking the magic and life out of me, draining whatever scrap of a soul I had left, destroying my will to keep fighting.
For the first time in a hundred and twenty years, giving up felt like a viable option.
The sound of crunching snow told me that someone was giving me fair warning upon approach. Mage … I could tell by her short, quick strides. Staying on my knees, I pivoted to meet her calm expression, revealing nothing about her thoughts as per usual. For just a second, angst stirred in the pit of my belly. I wondered if she would be upset that I hid Wraith from her. Her stoic, unrelenting friendship had been my saving grace in all of this. Since our days in Manhattan, I felt no need to keep anything from her.
“I understand why you didn’t tell me,” she said, as if plucking the thought from my head. “What a horrendous thing to deal with.” My chest heaved. Again, Mage knew just what to say.
I offered her a sad smile. “I’m so glad we didn’t kill each other when we had the chance, Mage.”
She smirked and her glistening white teeth gleamed in the moonlight. “Yes, that worked out well for both of us.”
I rubbed the wet flakes off my face as I nodded in agreement, turning back to stare at the tombstone. “It could’ve been worse. At least I was able to lock him up until now. Can you imagine if he’d roamed free for the last five years?”
Mage gave a small shudder. “Plus, he’s a natural Viggo repellent. That one has already fetched the plane and is preparing to leave as we speak.”
“Viggo doesn’t like being around things he can’t kill.”