Asylum (Causal Enchantment #2)(2)
I gasped as a blunt object tore through the middle of my back, through my ribcage, to exit through my stomach and thud against the cobblestones beneath me. Viggo’s signature move. Bastard!
It made healing hard. I had to get it out. Gritting my teeth, I flexed my arms and pushed my broken body up until I rested on my knees. I grasped the jagged end of the steel pipe with shaking hands, took a deep breath—One . . . two—and jerked it forward. My scream filled the silent atrium as the steel slid through my flesh. Again . . . I had no choice. I had to get it out now. Clenching my teeth, I prepared for another tug.
A swift kick between my shoulder blades sent me sprawling on my stomach again, shoving the pipe back into my stomach. Another lightning bolt of agony raced through my battered body. Something against my back—presumably a foot—pinned me down.
“I’m sure Sofie can explain everything,” a musical but authoritative female voice called out above me, adding, “once you stop torturing her.”
From my position, I could see Evangeline’s two female friends—Fiona and Amelie—standing forty feet away. It clearly wasn’t either of them speaking. Evangeline had no other friends. The hairs on the back of my neck spiked. How does this vampire know my name? “Who—” I began, then gasped as someone ripped the pipe out of my body and tossed it clattering onto the stones beside me. The weight lifted off my back. Again I lay waiting until my regenerative abilities—a magnificent vampirism—kicked in, praying that Viggo and Mortimer would allow me time to heal. This time, they did.
Once mended, I flew to my feet to assess the scene before me: the players, the situation, the threat. The atrium was no longer the scene of bedlam it had been only minutes ago. It was now a scene of silent chaos. Charred heaps—the remains of unlucky vampires—littered the ground. Scorched foliage and billowing smoke filled the once-picturesque atrium. I scanned the crowd, quickly counting the remaining Ratheus vampires. Forty. They were scattered, appearing ready to dive behind benches and statues at the first sign of a magical assault. Forty blood-crazed vampires, their eyes dancing wildly as they searched the atrium for humans. If only I had a few sparks of magic, I could level the rest of them. I could—
“Right, Sofie?” the unknown vampiress said, interrupting my plotting.
I turned toward the voice to find Viggo and Mortimer squared off opposite a diminutive, Asian-looking woman with porcelain skin and juicy red lips.
“Right . . . Sofie?” the woman repeated, regarding me with black, almond-shaped eyes. “I’m sure there’s a good reason why Evangeline vanished into thin air and you just charred seventy of your own kind?”
Gritting my teeth, I forced a small smile. You are not my kind. “Right,” I answered as levelly as I could, determined to match her confidence. The problem was, I couldn’t. I couldn’t even answer her by name. Who is she? I needed information—quick. Reaching inside once again, I scoured my body for a magical helix. Just one. Normally I had thousands of tiny purple coils floating around my body, ready to be plucked for various spells. I just needed one to send out a probe, to dissect this vampire’s very core, to grasp her true intentions, to know everything there was to know about her. But I was empty. I had drained my magical tank and until it began to regenerate I would need to rely on my wits. Damn it!
Viggo’s smooth croon broke the silence. “Of course there is! Excuse my rudeness. My desperation got the better of me.” He flashed one of his brilliant smiles. “So sorry, Sofie. That was barbaric of me.”
I sneered in response, his charming façade kindling a desire to punch him in his perfect nose. It was the same façade he had used to lure Evangeline in, to gain her trust. Worse, I had to stand by and watch him spin his repulsive web, powerless to stop him for fear of how he would punish her for my interference. I had learned that horrible lesson five years ago. The last time I overtly crossed him, he murdered Evangeline’s mother, leaving her orphaned.
But he couldn’t hurt her now. She was buried deep within the untouched mountains of Siberia, surrounded by miles of remote wilderness, warm and comfortable in the haven I had spent ten years building. I no longer needed to give Viggo satisfaction by playing along. “You’ll never see Evangeline again!” I sang out, mustering my most obnoxious grin, feeling suddenly giddy.
Viggo’s jaw clenched. Finally, a ripple in that handsome, iron-cast mask. “Is that so?” He took a rigid step toward me but a pale, delicate hand flew to his chest, stopping him. It didn’t actually touch him; it hovered, palm out, inches in front of his charcoal wool suit. Intrigued, I watched Viggo’s cobalt-blue eyes study the little hand for a long moment before sliding up to meet the owner—this undaunted, mysterious female leader who knew my name.
He doesn’t know what to think of her either. I knew how Viggo’s psychopathic mind worked. I had spent a hundred and twenty years with him breathing down my neck. He wondered how old she was. More precisely, he wondered if she could be stronger than him—the oldest vampire on Earth—given that she’d had no human nourishment for seven hundred years. I caught the curious sparkle in his eyes. He was wondering if he should test her. If he failed, he would prove inferior in front of an atrium full of witnesses. Any edge would be lost.
Do it, Viggo, I silently prayed. Not because I wanted to see him fall—though I so desperately did—but because I needed to see what this vampiress was made of.