Asylum (Causal Enchantment #2)(58)
“Fiona!” Bishop screamed.
It was too late. The witches aimed for the group of vampires closest to them, Fiona among them. Fire shot out, engulfing the group. Fiona disappeared in the flames.
“No!” Bishop and Amelie shrieked, fighting wildly to break free and run to her. Luckily Caden and Mage had iron-strong grips.
“We need to go. Now! Or we’ll be next,” Mage yelled as the witches’ attention moved on to the next cluster of vampires.
“We can’t use the last escape route—they may be waiting for us there. Take them to the underground garage,” I instructed.
“We can’t get down there,” Caden reminded me. “The Merth.”
Damn it! I had to break the spell. I had no time for anything else. “Go!”
Bishop was resisting, woeful eyes on the circle of fire where his love lay. “Bishop, we have to go!” Caden cried “She’s gone! We can’t lose you, too!”
“Go! Now!” I screamed and ran back into the library without a second glance. With a last look at Veronique’s portrait, I dove to Ileana’s side. She appeared to be sleeping peacefully, but I knew better. And I knew she didn’t need to protect her blood any longer. Running my hand along her neck, I grabbed hold of the chain and pulled.
Mortimer’s hand clamped over my wrist with a vise-like grip. I turned to see fear in his chocolate eyes, such a rare sight. “Help us.”
I gritted my teeth. They would die if they stayed here. They couldn’t die, for my sister’s sake. “She will be fine,” I promised. “You two won’t be.” I began a whispered chant to reverse the spell, a chant that only I knew, for a spell that responded to only my voice. The words would release all vampires from the confines of the Merth, including Viggo and Mortimer. In seconds, it was done. “You’re free. Get out of here.”
“Veronique!” Viggo cried from the doorway. “I won’t leave her!”
“Suit yourself.” I shook free of Mortimer’s hand. “When you smarten up, meet me at the Warehouse and we’ll figure out what we’re going to do.” The Warehouse was an old, abandoned building by the city docks, where one could often go for an easy late-night meal on one criminal or another. With that, I left them, running as fast as I could past the line of witches and toward the garage. I had no intention of meeting Viggo and Mortimer there.
8. The Tribe
My eyes flew open to find Ursula and the snowy mountain chalet gone, replaced by a canopy of trees in the foreground of a night sky and the monotonous hum of people chanting. The source of that chant lay about forty feet to my left: a group of fifty or so people encircling an enormous fire, their hands joined, their lean, scantily-clad bodies swaying from side to side. They repeated a low, garbled mantra over and over again as a man with a strange headpiece sitting outside of the circle pounded a rhythmic beat on his drum. I squinted at the thing on his head. It looked like a . . . tiger’s head?
A shout pulled my attention back toward the fire. This time I noticed the four tall wooden posts rising around it. My eyes drifted up their length, culminating in a platform-like structure at least fifteen feet above the fire on which sat a man wearing a large hat. It was dark, but I thought he was pointing at me.
Leo had transported me. Again.
“Evang . . . ”
The weak groan drew my eyes to a body lying on the sandy ground behind me. Julian. The bonfire cast just enough light to illuminate the dark stain forming on the front of his parka. “Julian!” I shrieked, dropping to my knees beside him. Leo had sent him with me to save him from Ursula, but by the looks of it, Leo had been too late. With the lightest touch, I slowly unzipped his winter jacket, afraid any movement would hurt him further. “Please don’t die!” I moaned.
I vaguely noticed that the incessant drumbeat and chanting had died, exchanged for gasps and words spurted in an odd tongue. I didn’t pay too much attention, intent on seeing how badly Julian was wounded.
Evangeline, stand up, Max commanded in a flat tone.
A wave of relief washed over me. “Thank God you’re here, Max! Julian needs help.”
Stand up. Now, Max said a second time, now with an ominous undercurrent.
I ignored him, pulling Julian’s jacket back to see the deep gash between his rib bones. Blood ran freely. So much blood.
I felt the low rumble in my chest as Max growled. Too much blood. It was tempting a hungry Max. “Help him,” I cried meekly, knowing there was little hope. If only Sofie or Leo were here . . .
Something cold and sharp grazed my chin. I shifted to see a metal spearhead attached to a shaft that was a good seven feet long. Panic sparked in me. Leo wouldn’t send us somewhere dangerous, would he? My eyes drifted up the length of the spear, over the pair of clawed, dark-skinned hands that gripped it, up along a nude male torso, to finish at a set of jaundiced eyes, the whites so sickly yellow that they gleamed like glow-in-the-dark stickers. In hideousness they matched the decaying teeth and disfigured nose, multiple heavy gold rings stretching out both nostrils in opposite directions. I cowered at the man’s unsightliness. I wasn’t sure if I should even call him a man. What were they? Glancing left and right, I found the others surrounding us were equally repulsive.
The spearhead pushed up under my chin, digging into my flesh. Stand up, Max instructed, and this time I obeyed. Don’t let them touch you.