A hand reaches through the dark and pushes Jean Marc back. I turn to see Rupe hovering over me, scowling at the older of the Dumont brothers.
“She’s not yours yet,” he snaps. “Remember who your real master is, boy.”
Jean Marc’s scowl offers a fraction of satisfaction, enough I’m able to pull myself together. I feel Sage with me, can smell him now I’m not panicking anymore. At least we’re still together. I glare at Rupe who looks down at me with a false smile. There was a time he was friends with Syd, when the two of them trusted each other. But when the Brotherhood turned him, exposed his sorcery, he turned on Syd and everything she stands for.
“Now,” he says, “you’ve led me on quite a chase, Charlotte. You and your little friend, here.” I hear Sage groan and know he’s coming to. We have to find a way to communicate so we can escape. It’s dark out, so I worry Femke isn’t even aware we’re gone and won’t be until late tomorrow morning. It would be like her to let us sleep in. So we’re on our own and without the means to communicate mentally.
I never thought I’d miss the ability to get into someone else’s mind.
“We know what you’re doing,” I say, trying to keep my voice level and calm. “Why you want him.”
“Oh, really?” Rupe’s grin is feral. “Do fill me in.”
“Just kill her.” Andre’s voice comes from the driver’s seat. I catch a glimpse of him past Rupe, a streetlight casting illumination over the side of his face. It’s in ruins still, slick and weeping, the slashing cuts I gave him reinforced with magic to ensure they never healed properly. I bare my own teeth and snap them together at the Dumont coven leader.
“Don’t be silly,” Rupe says, as though Andre’s a complete idiot. “We need her as a bargaining chip. Just in case something happens with Caine and the others.” He pats my cheek. “I want to make sure I have a replacement if he tries to cross me. And who better than the beloved wereprincess Sharlotta Moreau?”
I kick out at him but he’s faster, turning to look down at something behind me. I can only guess it’s Sage. “I think I have you to thank for my latest experiment’s success,” Rupe says. “All the others were dismal failures. But for some reason, this one worked out perfectly.”
He doesn’t know why Sage is different and I want it to stay that way. If Rupe touches my love, controlled or not, I’ll tear him apart.
“Maybe that was the problem,” Rupe says, stroking his chin like a bad super villain in a Hollywood B movie. “The samples I made had no support, no one to emulate.”
Let him stay in the dark long enough to defeat him. “The revenants,” I snarl, “the innocent people you infected, suffered and died because you’re a failure.”
He lashes out at me, almost casually, with sorcery. It’s his power controlling me and I suddenly can’t breathe, the blackness pressing down on my chest, forcing air from my lungs, crushing my ribcage. Darkness closes in while I gasp for air, trying even with tied hands to claw at my throat and chest, knowing this is the end if he miscalculates even a hair’s breadth.
When he finally releases me, I gag on the rush of oxygen, gulping it like icy water down my parched throat.
“Regardless,” Rupe goes on as though he didn’t almost kill me, “I must study this latest attempt and uncover the means to recreate him.” He grins at me. “Since you know all this already,” he says, “do tell, what is my purpose?”
“A werearmy,” I say, and from his knee-jerk reaction of anger, I know I’ve hit the truth after all.
“How could you possibly—” Rupe cuts off, anger fading as he laughs. “Good guess,” he says. “But correct. The controls the Black Soul sect had over you were far too easy to break.” His sorcery pushes down on me again and I struggle not to panic. “Mine won’t be quite so fragile. They grew weak and arrogant in their possession. I will never make that mistake. Werewolves are dangerous animals, after all.” His eyes glitter with an eager need, probably to hurt me further, to prod me into giving him a reason.
I shrug as best I can despite my bonds, focusing on staying present and calm. “We figured once Belaisle gave you the boot for being a useless nit, you had to try something. And emulating your master’s success had to be at the top of your list.” I’m feeling reckless, though baiting him could mean my death. But I’m reasonably certain his need to keep me alive is stronger than his temper, and I’ve been tortured before.
Rupe doesn’t strike out at me this time, though his narrowed eyes and the way he gnaws on his fingernails answers all of the questions I’ve had all along. Tallah and her agile mind managed to uncover the truth of the matter. Though I regret Belaisle is still alive and Rupe didn’t kill him for his position after all, at least I now have confirmation of the split in the remains of the Brotherhood ranks.
Rupe’s next emotionally charged statement reinforces my thoughts. “I’ll show him,” he snarls, though I know his words aren’t aimed at me. “He thinks his are the only plans that can bring results. When he is faced with my army of super werewolves, he will fall on his knees at my feet and beg my forgiveness.”
There is no question in my mind who “he” might be.
“I’m sure he will,” I murmur. “That is, if I don’t kill you, first.”
This time it’s Jean Marc who kicks me, his boot planting in my ribs and carrying me off the ground to slam against the far wall of the van. I feel Sage pressed behind me, register he’s stirring, about a heartbeat before his body tenses.
And all hell breaks loose.
I feel his power surge and realize, probably around the same moment Rupe does, Sage isn’t under sorcerous control. In fact, he’s free, his magic massive and violent. But the power Rupe is using to keep me in his grasp still affects Sage, but in a way none of us expect.
Even through the block in my power, I sense the madness in Sage. The dark sorcery has driven him insane, even as it’s fed his magic. Sage lurches to his feet, hunched over me, lashing out at the Dumont brothers while Rupe falls back with a cry. I spin, trying to reach Sage, while he throws his rage at the back doors of the van.
I can’t let him go, not alone, not in this state. He’s already transforming, a full wolf when he leaps out the back of the vehicle and into the darkness, his humanity crushed by the sorcerous blocks keeping his power hobbled. My caged magic batters against the restraints Rupe has place on me, fighting with everything I have to go after Sage.
Only to be jerked back away from the open doors and pulled bodily up into Rupe’s enraged face.
“How is that possible?” Spittle strikes my cheeks, my lips as his red face hovers barely an inch from mine, eyes bulging in fury. “He shouldn’t be able to do that.” Rupe drops me, suddenly afraid, though he covers it with more anger as Kristophe groans beside him. Andre pulls over with a squeal of tires that ends in a crunch of gravel and turns to glare at Rupe.
“We have to go after him.” Darkness hides the mess I’ve made of his face.
“Of course we don’t,” Rupe snaps. His eyes settle on me. “We have her.”
They want to use me as bait? They’ll have to kill me first. I kick out, shoving myself toward the still-open doors, not sure how I’m going to escape, but knowing I have to find Sage before they do.
A sharp pinpoint of pain and the darkness returns all over again.
***
This time, when I wake, I recognize the scent of straw, the feel of cold stone under my body. I’m half naked, jeans torn away, t-shirt gone, only my bra and underwear remaining. My hands are unbound, at least, feet free, but I’m groggy, disoriented, the world wavering around me as I try to focus.
“You made a mistake,” Andre’s voice reaches me and I whimper despite myself. He ignores me, focusing on what he’s saying as my eyes adjust, no longer seeing double, trying to pull together the vision of the small, stone room, the slit of bars in a high-placed single window, the heavy steel door that is the only exit. Rupe stands at my feet, glaring down at me.
“He’s never been controlled,” Rupe says, words sharp with anger. “That has to be the difference.”
Andre’s good side is to me, hiding the ruin I made of his face. “There were no old pathways for your sorcery to inhabit.”
Rupe nods once, irritation obvious. He doesn’t want to have to confide in Andre, I’m guessing, sees the other man as beneath him. And yet, he’s chosen his bedfellows. They deserve each other.
“So he’s at full power still,” Rupe says. “But his mind is mine.”
“If it was,” Andre snaps, “he’d be here now.”
Rupe turns on him, sorcery slamming Andre into the stone wall so hard I hear the older man grunt. “I’ll figure it out,” he says. “Copy her pathways into him.” He points at me with one vibrating finger. “Something. In the meantime, keep her alive.”
Andre half-turns his head toward me when Rupe releases him. “I can do alive,” he says. “As long as that’s all that matters?”
Rupe shrugs, turning his back on me. “Don’t disappoint me, Andre.”
The Dumont leader snarls at the door as Rupe slams it shut behind him. He stares down at me, a thin strand of light coming in through the slots of the window lighting the sliced ribbons of skin on his face. He crosses past my feet as he speaks, heading for a small table propped up in the far corner.
“He’s a fool,” Andre says, the sound of clanking raising goosebumps on my skin. I know that sound, the flap of leather, the whisper of steel being drawn from a pouch. His implements. He’s brought them with him. I know them all intimately, the edges and points and dull surfaces meant to crush and maim. “Underestimated his own cleverness and left himself open to failure.” Andre turns to me, a shining spike in one hand, a curved blade in the other. I’ve been cut and stabbed and probed with both. The memory of the pain is almost more than I can stand and I have to dig deep inside me to find the courage to hold still and not show him fear. “Typical sorcerer arrogance. I won’t make his mistake.” He prods me with one shoe, still dressed in a suit, shining toe the finest leather brought to a high sheen. Andre crouches beside me, setting the tools down in the straw before shucking off his jacket and setting it aside, rolling up his sleeves while his pale blue eyes never leave mine. I shiver at the sight of his face, the four deep grooves crusted with old pus and raw from infection. “Try to fight me, Charlotte,” Andre whispers, the scent of sandalwood and vanilla making the girl inside me weep. “Please, just try.”
***