Estelle woke up, disoriented. She’d been tossed in a corner of a room…where?
A shriek startled her into full consciousness and she leapt to her feet, head throbbing and her vision momentarily doubled. In front of her in the center of the room, moving away from Lucia’s bed, was Tom Minor and beside him, clutching the briefcase, was Raoul.
“What’s going on?” Her voice was a croak and she held the wall for balance. “Are the Ancients alive? Where’s Agata?” She had to tell Wavena what the lithu had done. Vincenzo? This time she called out to the Ancient in her mind.
No one replied. Instead, Tom shook his head back as though loosening his hair and closed his eyes.
“Tom?” she asked hesitantly. Even as his name left her mouth, she knew.
In seconds, Yangzei stood in Tom’s clothes.
Her gaze flew to the Ancients, who remained on their beds, still. Even without looking at the vitals displayed on the wall, she could tell Lucia was dead. The Ancient’s skin had become impossibly waxy and pale, a marble bust of her own face.
Vincenzo. I’m sorry. I failed you.
Yangzei lifted his head and Estelle took an involuntary step back. Energy crackled around him as though he’d captured a lightning bolt. His very gaze singed her.
“Stop it.”
“Stop what, vampiress?” Yangzei breathed in deep and laid both of his hands on Vincenzo’s chest. Although his body remained still, the Ancient opened his mouth and began to scream, a horrible sound of agony.
“Enough! Raoul, help me!” But he shook his head and stepped back, wrinkling his nose as if she was nothing but a stain on the ground.
Before Estelle could move, Yangzei took his hands off Vincenzo and pointed at her. Unbelievingly, she stared at the floor as her body moved backwards on the tile, her attempts to regain her footing like fighting against a gale. Talking was impossible and even breathing difficult, her chest was so compressed. In seconds, she was up against the wall, closing her eyes against the crushing weight of the pressure. A wild laugh sounded from Yangzei, but it was hard to hear anything through the rushing in her ears. Except—her name?
“…Can you hear me? Estelle?…”
The voice came from an emergency intercom to her left. She tried to open her mouth to answer but nothing came out. With each exhale, Yangzei pressed her chest even more.
“Estelle! We’re cutting through the door. Hold on. We’re coming.”
“It will be too late,” said Yangzei, almost conversationally.
“What…want?” Estelle managed to gasp. Maybe if she could keep him talking.
“Nothing from you.” Yangzei kept one hand extended toward her as his other reached down to touch Vincenzo’s head. “The only thing I want is right here.”
Estelle felt the moment Yangzei drew out Vincenzo’s energy. The vampire’s presence mixed with the power holding Estelle back, almost comforting compared to what she was experiencing. Perhaps she could communicate with him, use her compulsion power to help. But no. Vincenzo was too scattered with grief and pain. Yangzei pulled the power out inexorably and Estelle felt the vampire Ancient weakening.
Through the intercom, Stephan’s voice was replaced by that of a woman. Her words rang like tiny bells and Estelle realized the cadence of what she was doing. A spell. It must be Isindle with the banishment spell, trying desperately to work her magic from a distance. Yangzei paused, then nodded as if bemused. “A very good plan,” he said. “Unfortunately of little good without the correct words.”
The wrong words. Estelle’s eyes lit on the briefcase that Raoul clutched reflexively to his chest.
The spell book was in there. She needed it.
* * * *
Stephan paced frantically as the crew did their best to cut through a security door that had been designed to thwart every means of entry. At least Agata had found the old intercom system. Estelle was in there and they could talk with her.
Or at least Isindle could. The work team had ushered the rest out to give them space to work on the door. Only Isindle remained, desperately chanting what she recalled of the spell through the intercom.
Agata wrapped another layer of bandages around her waist. She seemed impervious to the pain, and although she said the cut was shallow, it bled heavily. She’d shrugged Estelle’s attack off as a misunderstanding, saying only that Estelle had thought she was attacking her.
“That’s generous of you,” said Stephan.
“I will discuss it with her in private later. Now is not the time.”
Stephan made a mental note to be within shouting distance of that talk, just in case.
Agata turned to Felix. “Can you feel them? Sense their thoughts?”
Felix’s eyes closed as white tension lines bracketed his mouth. His shoulders sagged. “It’s too chaotic. I can’t tell what’s happening.”
Stephan resisted the urge to check in on the team. They knew what they were doing and having him pop in every six seconds was not going to expedite the process of getting into the crypt.
A scream sang out and Stephan’s head jerked up. “What’s going on?”
“That was the Ancient Vincenzo,” said Felix. His entire face was strained. “He’s awake and hurting.”
“I feel it too.” Agata’s face was calm but her hands clenched at her sides.
A terrible grinding noise filled the air and Stephan clamped his hands over his ears. It was still echoing when he charged back into the shed where the team wrestled with the door they’d managed to cut through. Caro halted him.
“Isindle needs to get in there.”
Right. The spell. The fey woman was right beside him and he motioned her back. “Let me go in first, make sure it’s safe.”
And check on Estelle.
Another tortured cry rang out and Stephan didn’t wait for a reply. A jag of metal scratched his shoulder as he went through, but he ignored it as he rushed down the stairs and into the main crypt. Estelle sat slumped against the wall, barely breathing. On the table, the vampire Ancient Vincenzo slowly sat upright, his face contorting as he tried to speak. The entire room was filled with an almost electric power. Raoul was in the corner, eyes huge and briefcase in hand.
“Estelle!”
Her eyes fluttered open and she took in the scene with a single glance.
Then she moved so fast Stephan only saw a blur. Estelle hurled herself at Raoul, forcing him to stumble back before he struck at her with the briefcase, causing it to break open and release the heavy spell book. The crack of breaking bone was audible, and Estelle went down.
Raoul, his face contorted with fear, kicked the book into the far corner and raised the briefcase high to strike Estelle again. Stephan was across the room before he could hit a third time. In a single motion, he wrenched the case from Raoul and threw it before tackling the vampire to the ground. Raoul fought soundlessly and was as flexible as an eel. The fangs dropped but Stephan brought his fist up and jabbed him hard on the side of the head. Blood and teeth flew as Raoul let out a thin squeal. He pulled back for another hit as he saw Estelle get up with one arm dangling, her eyes determined.
Then she faltered as pages scattered around the room. Raoul wriggled away from Stephan and scrambled into the corner where Yangzei finished shredding the spell book. Old sheets littered the ground in fragments.
For a moment, the room was hushed.
Then it exploded into action.
* * * *
Her arm hurt but she’d been trained to deal with physical pain. The larger problem was that it was useless and a liability. Being so visibly injured gave her enemies a target to hit.
She slipped on some of the loose papers from Isindle’s spell book as she spun in place, tracking the room in a blast of attention. Lucia, dead on the table. Raoul, that traitor, hiding in the corner with Stephan nearby. The main action was in front of her—Yangzei now leaning over Vincenzo, hands reaching out to cup each side of the vampire’s head.
The moment he made contact, the room sizzled. Vincenzo’s body jerked on the bier and Yangzei’s hair and clothes flew out with a hiss.
Agata groaned and slapped her hands to her ears. “He’s stealing Vincenzo’s life-force,” she grated out. “His…he’s using Vincenzo as a power source. Fuel.” Tears streamed down her face as her skin and eyes reddened. “Killing him, like Lucia.”
“Fuel for what?” yelled Estelle. “Why?”
Before Agata could answer, Isindle and Stephan leapt forward, hands stretched out toward Yangzei. They didn’t even make contact. Yangzei made a shrugging motion with his shoulders, even as Vincenzo continued to convulse on the table in front of him, and the two went flying as if they’d been physically hit. A soft aura flickered around Yangzei and then faded.
Agata’s eyes were shut as she gasped for air. “Transference,” she panted out.
“People are already in place to receive him,” called Raoul hollowly from the corner. “I didn’t know this is what he had planned. I didn’t know.”
Raoul continued to babble as Estelle ran to Stephan. He was bleeding from a gash in his forehead but his eyes flew open when she turned him over.
Then she pulled back with a gasp. Stephan’s skin was flickering. She blinked and it stopped. She must have a concussion.
From upstairs came the sound of yelling. “We’re under attack,” Felix bellowed. “Caro needs help.”
Agata looked up, her face puffy. “I’ll deal with this.” She moved unsteadily. “Will die if down here.”
Estelle nodded but her attention was already back on Yangzei. People were in place. The moment he had enough power from Vincenzo, he’d be out of their grasp. She couldn’t allow that to happen. She pushed her mind out, praying that she could wield some control over either Yangzei or Vincenzo. Nothing—she bounced back as if confronted by the same barrier that had halted Isindle and Stephan. Yangzei ignored her completely, as though she was so insignificant she wasn’t worth the bother.
Then Stephan was at her side, breathing hard and with blood smeared over his face. His gaze was steady on Yangzei. “Vincenzo is the weak link. We need to separate them. How bad is your arm?”
“I can work around it. I’ll get Vincenzo.”
“I’ll distract Yangzei.” His hand brushed her, causing a beautiful warmth to blossom through her.
There was no time to dwell on that. Before Yangzei could sense her intentions, she jumped out and grabbed Vincenzo’s leg with her good hand, yanking so hard his entire body fell off the table in an ungainly lump. Yangzei roared with an inarticulate rage that was cut off when Stephan tackled his legs. The two went down in a thrashing heap.
Isindle pawed through the piles of paper on the ground, tossing them aside as she hunted for the spell. Estelle hesitated. She couldn’t risk Vincenzo becoming a resource for Yangzei again but to kill him would be to end any possibility of using the spell to banish that demon forever.
What would Cressida do?
“I found it!” Isindle’s cry was triumphant. She threw herself on Vincenzo and began to chant, her voice filling the room as the fey spell flowed around them like cool silver. To the right, Stephan and Yangzei broke apart, both panting and with eyes wild with hope or fury.
The spell rose to a crescendo. Isindle’s eyes screwed shut. She kept one hand on Vincenzo’s chest as she lifted the other in the air, as though she was a lightning rod for the power to come. Her voice became hoarse and then…it was done.
Isindle collapsed over Vincenzo’s body as Estelle stared with disbelief.
Was it done? They’d won.
Then white fire burned her injured arm as Yangzei had pushed her aside, his mere touch as intense as a torch. He was back to Vincenzo, ready to rip the final shreds of power from the vampire’s body.
The masquerada Ancient had survived.
“Vincenzo was too weak,” called Isindle. Tears ran down her face. “I need more, the strength of many. We are too few here.”
Many? Estelle turned to face Stephan and saw he’d made the same connection as she had. Many arcana. A multitude.
Vincenzo pawed at her mind. I can no longer fight him. He’s strong and he has too much of me. And…I want to be with my Lucia, seneschal. I am lost to this world.
Estelle could barely focus. Stephan—could he use the multitude to banish Yangzei? Perhaps, but at what cost? Would they take him over, remove that control he cherished more dearly than life?
But he wouldn’t die, would he? He’d be unhappy, but it would be for the better good.
What would Cressida do?
Sound fell away as Estelle gazed around her. Isindle: mid-stride to the table, spell clutched in her blood-smeared hand for another desperate attempt. Vincenzo, her secret friend, dying on the floor with a gentle smile. Yangzei, already lit from within.
And on the side, Stephan, his face twisted in a grimace that showed his internal fight.
She could force him to do it, the same as she had in Cancun. It would be child’s play to go into his mind and crack it open to allow the multitude out. Isindle would take his hand and they would say the spell, a hundred, a thousand voices at once. Yangzei would disappear in a puff of smoke.
The Stephan she knew—what would happen to him?
Cressida would consider that collateral damage. She wouldn’t hesitate the way Estelle did, watching the horror unfold in front of her as if she was a mere observer, hoping that by making no choice the situation would magically unfold to her benefit.
No choice is a choice, Vincenzo said. I’m dying, seneschal.
I didn’t protect you.
No. He sounded philosophical. Yet what life is this, lying here alone? My Lucia is gone and she is calling to me. She’s free now. We didn’t know what existed past that barrier. Now I will join her.
There was only one thing she could do. Stephan caught her look and closed his eyes. With a quick motion, she caressed his mind. The arcana trapped there were ready to help, but over that was Stephan’s hatred for Yangzei and resignation to what she was going to do.
She gave him the mental equivalent of a kiss, hoping that he would accept this small, final intrusion.
Her choice was made.
She was not Cressida.
Vincenzo. I need your help.
* * * *
I love you. It was Estelle’s final message and he didn’t even understand it at first. He’d known from the beginning what she was going to do. How could she not? This was the opportunity to rid the world of Yangzei—she couldn’t not do that, not even to keep the promise she’d made him. He couldn’t find it in his heart to blame her. Or he wouldn’t, had his heart not been broken.
Then the contact between them split savagely, as if she’d slammed down a steel curtain. Estelle pulled Vincenzo back on the table and grabbed Yangzei’s hand in her own uninjured one to slap it on her temple. She lay flat on Vincenzo and the blue sleeves fell back as he lifted his arms to clasp her tightly.
They both began to shake.
Isindle was there, trying to tear Estelle away. “Help me!” she screamed. “They’re trying to take back some of Yangzei’s power, to weaken him. It’s not working. They’re dying. Both of them are dying.”
* * * *
The multitude that had always been at the back of his mind murmured their anguish, now tempered with…was it hope?
Estelle needed him.
This time, for the first time, he welcomed them, and listened.
He reached his hand out to Isindle, who understood immediately.
The room rang with voices. Young, old, speaking in French, Creole, Latin. Men and women. With a long wail, Yangzei broke contact with Estelle, holding his hands to his ears as the words echoed, each one with the power of the sacred spell. Stephan released the control he’d held on to for so long and let the rage and pain mingle with the many joys.
His brother’s smile.
The children making mud figures.
Sweetbreads and cold wine.
Selene, her hands stained with rich black soil.
Eric’s hand on his shoulder.
Behind it all, Estelle. Always Estelle.
Yangzei stiffened as Estelle’s arms fell lifeless over the side of the table like a puppet whose master loosened the strings.
Then—the voices were gone.