Allegiance (Causal Enchantment #3)(27)
Author: K.A. Tucker

She paused hesitantly. “Okay …”

“Okay … how many witches and Sentinel have you seen?”

“Oh … I don’t know,” she answered, thinking. “Hundreds, maybe.”

Wow. “Okay. Do you know how people are getting in and out?”

“Uh … I don’t know, Evangeline. I’m sorry. I’ve been locked up the entire time.”

I sighed. Tortured prisoners didn’t make good insiders. “Do you know who that dark-haired one is?”

“Oui!” she answered quickly, excited to have an answer. “Her name is Imogen. She is not nice.”

That’s an understatement. I could see how everyone took Veronique for a sweetheart. “Has she said anything … interesting? Given you clues of any sort?”

I felt my brow crease as Veronique gave it some thought. “No …,” she answered slowly. “But she talks into a little gray box a lot. It makes a funny sound. Like ringing.”

Little gray thing … little gray thing … I scowled, with frustration. What could she be … her cell phone! Veronique had never seen a cell phone!

“Does it sound like she’s talking to someone here, in the building, or somewhere else?”

She nodded. “Definitely far. She said something about flying to England. What did she mean, ‘fly,’ Evangeline?”

Despite the dire situation, Veronique’s innocent questions made me chuckle. “In a plane.” This was crazy! “I’ll explain later. There’s so much to learn. For now, stay safe and try not to tell them anything.”

“Wait! Don’t go yet!” I heard the desperation in her voice.

“I can’t help how long I stay, Veronique. It just happens. But I’m still here for now.”

A pause. “How long was I in that statue for? The world has changed so much, from the little I have seen.”

“About a hundred and twenty years.” I felt like I was delivering a fatal diagnosis.

With a strangled gasp, Veronique’s hands flew to cover her mouth. I said nothing, allowing her to absorb the news that she had essentially woken up from a one-hundred-and twenty-year-long coma.

“And Mortimer and Viggo? Have they moved on? How are they?”

I snorted. “They are still your number-one fans.” I hesitated. “They’re fine. They don’t know you’re out, either.”

“You must think horribly of me … in love with two men,” she said and I felt heat creep into my face with her embarrassment.

It was such a genuinely sweet reaction to the situation, I couldn’t help but instantly like her. Except for her poor taste in mates.

“No, I don’t, Veronique, but …” What do I say? You’re in love with a psychopath who would slaughter newborn babies if he felt so inclined? I couldn’t say that, and yet, I had to say something … what if she chose him over Mortimer? I swallowed my fear. She had to know. There was no sugar-coating this. “Don’t trust Viggo, Veronique.”

A prickle of wariness tickled my neck. Veronique’s neck. “What? That’s silly!” she exclaimed, a little too loudly. She gasped and looked at the door, waiting. When no one entered, she lowered her voice to a whisper. “Why would you say that?”

Let it out, Evangeline. Tell her … tell her the truth, a part of me screamed. A selfish, spiteful side that longed for the ultimate triumph for all the misery Viggo had inflicted upon me, upon Sofie, upon Mortimer, upon Max … upon mankind.

“Because he murdered my mother, Veronique, for no other reason than he was mad at Sofie.” My voice was low and cool as I delivered my revenge. “Because he murdered Lilly’s mother. Because he has tortured and would have killed your sister a million times. Because he was ready to kill me.”

Her head shook side to side, her brow furrowed so tightly, it pained my facial injuries. “Non … You must be mistaken. Surely.”

“I would not make a mistake like this, Veronique. Please believe me. You must choose Mortimer.” My voice was surprisingly calm and steady—strong even.

“I don’t know who you are or why you are here. You are telling me lies. Maybe you are the reason I am locked up in here with these witches.”

“You know what? You’re right! I am the reason you’re in there. But it’s not for any reason you could guess. I can’t tell you anything else because it’s too risky. What I can say is that you know your sister, Veronique. She will either get herself killed coming to save you or she’ll start a war that will end in ruin. So as appalling as it is, know that for every day she doesn’t know you’re out of your statue, you’re saving lives. Countless lives.”

As the words rolled out, I felt an internal scale tip. I was doing the right thing.

Silence cast an inescapable shadow within the room. Silence, sadness, and doom. And that is exactly how I left Veronique, that hollow ache coming back with me to my own tumultuous life.

I found myself back in my room at the chateau, a presence lying behind me. He stayed! Excited, I rolled over.

“I thought you’d be—” My words ended in a croak.

“Good nap?” Bishop asked, grinning as he reached to brush a strand of hair caught in my lashes.

“I … I …” I couldn’t form two words, so startled, the muscles in my neck tightening into hard balls of tension. What the hell was Bishop doing in my bed? Sofie was supposed to convince Bishop to give me space. This wasn’t space! This was alone in my bedroom! This was as far from space as we could get! Sparks of rage swirled in my gut.

Insecurity in Bishop’s eyes quickly doused them. I forced myself to smile. “You’ve been acting strange since you came back, Evie … is everything all right? You know, between us?”

Still, that fake smile held, even as horrid wrongness twisted and danced inside me. Between us? There is no “between us.”

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean …” I fumbled over my words, swallowing several times.

“Well, then …” His body leaned forward until his arm stretched over me and his giant muscular torso pressed up against my chest. Dipping his head, I felt the softest caress of his lips against my collarbone. It was hesitant and gentle and it stirred feelings that I shouldn’t have.

I slipped my arm in between our chests to break the contact and then, with a forceful push, I rolled away and scampered to a sitting position. Pressing my hands to my belly, I searched for Max who had mastered the art of intrusion. My disappointment swelled. He was nowhere in sight.

What was I supposed to do now? How would I convince Bishop that “we” did not exist without hurting his feelings? That was the last thing I wanted to do! Sliding off the bed, I walked over to the mirror and peered at my face, partly as a stalling tactic, partly because I wondered if my jaw had improved at all. To my pleasant surprise, the swelling had decreased. It hurt like hell, but at least it wasn’t too unsightly. I guess the frozen peas did the trick.

I turned back to find Bishop stretched out on his back across my bed, his intense gaze boring into me. Had it not been for Caden—and Fiona—I had to admit that I may have fallen for Bishop. I mean, there was nothing about him not to swoon over. From his thick mane of blond hair to his wide, full lips, always parted in a grin, no one could argue that he wasn’t appealing. If his looks weren’t enough, his easy charm that lit up rooms, that made people want to tail after him, surely was.

But he wasn’t Caden.

I swallowed. “Bishop,” I began. He bolted upright, flinching as he watched me intently. “Nothing’s wrong. I just … I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

“Tell me how I can fix it. Let me fix it.”

“You can’t fix this …” I interjected softly. “With this Tribe magic coursing through me, I’m feeling weird. Not myself at all.” I was grasping at straws. “Something’s changing inside me …”

Pain flickered in Bishop’s eyes. “For me? Your feelings for me?”

My head was shaking furiously, my heart throbbing as I continued the lie. How many times could a person’s heart break in one day? “My feelings for you have not changed.” That was the truth. They just weren’t the feelings he thought I should have. And then it hit me. I did have the perfect excuse. The truth. “Any day, any moment, my touch will kill you.” I delivered it with such clarity, with such conviction, without a waver or a stutter, there was no way he could think it was anything but real.

His face twisted. “What? Why?”

“Do you remember the Tribes?”

“Yeah, I remember them,” he said. I struggled to keep the surprise from my face. What exactly did he remember?

It took me a minute to gain my composure. “I’m changing. Morphing. Can’t you sense it?”

His chin furrowed. “Yeah, I can. Sofie said not to worry about it.”

I couldn’t stop my eye roll. “Every day, I’m a little bit more like Walking Death. If this continues, then a day will come—soon—when my touch will kill you. I can’t bear that thought, Bishop. I’ll die.” My voice, cracking with emotion, carried the purity of truth with it. I would die if I killed him, or Amelie, or Caden. Even the thought produced a well of tears. “So we need to keep the physical contact at bay. Please. For me. For my sanity.”

He groaned and flopped back into the bed, his hands flying to his face and sliding through his hair. “You’re killing me here! I’ve been waiting a month for you to come back from the mountains!”

Again, I struggled to keep the shock from my face. If he didn’t remember anything about F—her—during that month, what did he remember? “Yeah … that’s a long time. What were you doing during that time again?” I walked toward my dresser to pull out fresh clothes, trying to appear as casual as possible.

Bishop’s arms folded around his chest, his words dry. “You know exactly what I was doing, Evangeline … I didn’t have a choice! I had to get over my bloodlust after I almost killed you!”

My feet froze mid-step. Bishop almost killed me … not Caden. Bishop. Bishop waited for me while I was in the mountains … not Caden. A theory formed in my mind. A dark, twisted theory that brought my level of disgust for these master puppeteer Fates to a new low. I turned on my heels and headed back over to the bed. I perched myself at the edge of the mattress, forcing a relaxed smile.

“Wasn’t Ratheus simpler? Remember those days, swimming, fishing … and that tunnel in the water we went through?”

A lazy grin stretched onto Bishop’s face as he reminisced with me. “Yeah … I remember that. We could have gone above ground, but it got you close to me.” I held the smile on my face. I held it, even as it brawled with my emotions to slide off and allow shock and horror to take its place. The Fates had plagiarized Caden’s memories and planted them in Bishop’s mind! All of our private moments were now Bishop’s memories. That meant …

The air left my lungs in a rush as Bishop’s eyes trailed the length of my thigh, up my arm, over my body, heat igniting within. Without thinking, I hunched my shoulders inward to protect myself from his appraisal. But … how had they managed to contort his memories and erase Fi—her? I didn’t dare even think her name. There had to be some disconnect, some complete fabrication in Bishop’s poor lobotomized memories.

As curious as I was to find out, I knew that poking around in there was like punting a ticking time bomb. And I wasn’t going to be the one to swing my leg. “We should go downstairs. Find out what’s happening.”

He nodded, reaching out to grasp my hand. I allowed the affection for a few seconds, not wanting to pull away too quickly. But eventually, I stood and shook his hand off. “We can’t risk it, Bishop.”

He nodded, a pout curving his lips downward. My throat closed up.

I walked over to my dresser while silently cursing the Fates for making me hurt him so. Then I remembered the alternative. Suck it up, Evie. You asked for this. You asked Sofie to fix him. Rifling through the top drawer to find a sweater and a pair of jeans, I turned to find Bishop still watching.

“Do you mind?” I asked, dipping my head toward the door.

“What?” he exclaimed, an appalled expression on his face.

My heart flipped, my cheeks burning. “It’d be less tempting for us both if you didn’t watch.” I turned my back to him and waited, unable to face his disappointment.

I finally heard the bed creak with the relief of his weight. “I’ll be downstairs when you’re ready,” he mumbled, closing the door behind him.

***

A large crowd had congregated in the glass room. Twelve vampires, a Secret Sentinel member, two werewolves in human form, and four werebeasts, all talking over one another. This is my Christmas Eve. If the situation weren’t so bleak, I may have laughed. But there was nothing to laugh about here. Lilly stood between Sofie and Mage, sharp, wary eyes like a cat secured on Viggo. I noticed her shifting her weight from one foot to the other, appearing torn between bolting for freedom and leaping over the furniture to attack.