Asylum (Causal Enchantment #2)(55)
Mortimer uttered not a single word. He spun on his heels, jaw visibly clenched, and grabbed the elbow of a sickly-looking Ileana as he passed her. The six of us trailed behind them into the library, Mage shutting the French doors behind us.
Viggo turned to the witch. “A sound barrier, if you would be so kind, Illie?”
I caught the fleeting wince, likely due to Viggo’s nickname, but she nodded and quietly went about casting the common spell. I watched Mage’s eyes follow the purple-hued bubble as it expanded to reach the outer walls of the room. I can’t wait to sit down and learn about that vampire’s uncanny sense for magic! It was beyond annoying.
Only after Ileana nodded to Viggo did Mortimer react. I knew it was coming; I expected it—yet the vicious blow that instantly shattered my jaw caught me off guard all the same. The crushing pain dropped me to one knee where I remained, waiting for my bones to mend themselves. Five seconds later I was on my feet again, throwing a catty response at him. “Haven’t you heard it’s not nice to hit ladies?” I couldn’t help it, though I knew I was only throwing fuel on already roaring flames.
“Lady,” Mortimer grated through clenched teeth, “you belong in Hell.”
“I have to agree with you on that one,” Viggo murmured, his back to us as he gazed at Veronique’s painting above the mantel. He turned, the fireplace poker gripped casually in his hand. He lifted it up to show a glowing point, as if it had sat within the flames.
“What are you going to do, Viggo? Brand me?” I joked, trying to defuse whatever panicked reaction he was hoping to get from me.
“What would be the point of that? You heal too fast and you’re tough as nails, you old hag,” he retorted with a condescending smile. Instead he grabbed Ileana by the back of the neck and pulled her close. Without pause, he pressed the poker to her cheek. The smell of burning flesh curled everyone’s nostrils up in disgust. The young witchling’s eyes began to tear up and she let out a howl of pain. “Quiet, now! You are here to be our eyes and ears, Illie. Your one task is to watch that devil woman over there. And yet somehow she managed to escape, unnoticed. And with five vampires! What do you have to say for yourself?”
Tears streamed down her cheek as she tried to muffle her screams. Finally her knees buckled from the pain. Viggo kept her on her feet.
“It wasn’t her fault,” I said. “You had her busy trying to break spells she can’t break.”
A wicked smile touched Viggo’s lips. “You’re right, Sofie. It was your fault. Much like every problem around here is. But—” With a flick of his wrist, Viggo forced Ileana’s face to turn. He shifted the poker to her other cheek. “Since you obviously take some sort of masochistic pleasure in being beaten, I thought punishing someone else would be more effective.”
“Please!” Ileana managed to sputter between sobs.
I glanced over at Mortimer to see him staring at Veronique’s face, as if he couldn’t hear Ileana’s pained cries—or he was blocking them out. He was good at that. I was not. I so desperately wanted to level Viggo with my magic, but now was not the time to start a physical battle with him.
“When you’re finished your pathetic display of dominance, we’d like to discuss the impending war outside,” Mage said, her normally serene voice carrying a cutting edge. Her words made Viggo release his grip on Ileana’s chin. She tumbled to the hardwood floor, her hair falling forward to hide the burned flesh marring both her cheeks.
“What are you talking about?” Mortimer asked, his tone doubtful. “My spies have said nothing about any signs of an army.”
“Your spies are probably the Sentinel, working undercover to feed you lies,” Mage spat.
Mortimer snorted. “Do you think I’m stupid? I checked their hands. No tattoos.”
She cackled. “Did you check their entire bodies?”
“No, why would I?” Mortimer’s face twisted with doubt. “They tattoo their hands. That’s what they do. That’s what they’ve always done.”
Mage offered him a condescending smirk. “Near the end, before the war on Ratheus, we discovered they began marking their kind elsewhere on their bodies, so they could act as double agents with the vampires.”
I turned to stare at her. You neglected to tell me that, Mage. That meant those eight suicidal zombies in the club could in fact have been the Sentinel.
She continued without batting an eye at me. “The witches would break the vampire compulsion spells and cast their own to protect the spies, so they couldn’t give anything up if caught and interrogated.”
“Well, that’s your world, not ours.”
“Are you so sure?” Mage taunted, smug in knowing what neither of them knew; what none of Evangeline’s friends, standing quietly behind me, knew.
“What does she mean?” Mortimer asked slowly. “Sofie?”
I shrugged. Let them chew on that.
“Sofie?” Amelie’s raspy voice called. I turned to see four sets of confused, scared eyes staring back at me. “What does she mean?”
I sighed, not so content with leaving them hanging. I looked to Mage. With a nod, Mage explained the seer and how she’d single-handedly retrained every vampire remaining into believing that the world they lived in was called Ratheus and not Earth. Six sets of wide, disbelieving eyes bored into Mage by the time she was finished. I didn’t know how they would react.