“So, London’s alright then?”

  I smiled. “London’s probably looking down on us right now.”

  She cracked her first smile. Slowly, I watched her face take on the same type of determination that I’d seen in the eyes of the others just a few minutes ago. “Then whoever “touched” me is just taking over where London left off right?” She didn’t let me answer. “I’m filling my sister’s shoes, aren’t I? I… I can do this. I won’t let myself be afraid anymore. This’ll be for my big sister.”

  It was hard not to be moved by Aspen’s show of bravery. It wasn’t very different from the rest of the witches here. They just needed something to put their faith in and they could face down anything.

  But I hadn’t the heart to tell Aspen the full truth either. Nadia wasn’t just anyone, she was the daughter I’d lost long ago. Children that die for whatever reason are given the choice to exist in the splendor of heaven or to live out an angelic life. By the small size of her wings, it was apparent that she’d just decided to become an angel. She’d no doubt made the choice because I was in trouble. But that didn’t change the fact that she was definitely here without permission. The angels had already given up on me. I wasn’t supposed to get anymore help from them. At any moment they could force her back to heaven. And then the witches would be left with just me—the angel who’d put them in this situation to begin with, and who knew without a shadow of a doubt that they had no chance of winning.

  Chapter Five

  Conscience

  When I awoke this morning, there was absolutely no scenario in which I envisioned myself going to school today. Yet, here I was in Taylor’s Jeep, headed toward Heathwood at one in the afternoon. Taylor was unusually quiet, but I resisted connecting with her mind without her permission. I remembered what it had felt like when London had done that to me.

  “So you’re really not going to say anything?” Taylor finally asked.

  I played dumb. “About what?”

  She shot me a look. “We’re not dumb. Just because we’re too young to go to the Council Meetings doesn’t mean we don’t know something’s going on. We all saw those guardians being carried back into the mansion. It’s all we talked about during lunch.”

  Nearly all the children—teenagers too—had been sent to school immediately following the attack this morning. The reasoning was twofold. First, it was decided that vampires wouldn’t dare attack a public place like a school, so they would be safe there. Vampires were as paranoid about not being discovered as the witches were. Second, there was also the need to keep up appearances. It would raise more than a few eyebrows if every student from Old Brighton were to skip school on the same day. Phone calls would go out, and lies would have to be told. That was a mess best avoided. Aspen and I, understandably, were given permission to stay at the mansion. After getting the okay from Dr. Roberts, I decided I wanted to go anyway. I figured it would be a good time to do some uninterrupted thinking. Having everyone stare at me wherever I went in the house was distracting. I needed to be focused on what I could do to prevent this catastrophe.

  I wondered just how much Taylor knew. “What did you guys talk about?”

  Taylor pulled the car over off the highway. “Ana, you called a Council Meeting at five in the morning. And you were in there with that vampire when he addressed the council. You know what’s going on, you’re just not saying. Don’t you think we have a right to know?” Crap. I could see that she was in her “high school journalist” mode.

  “You do, it’s just that it’s kind of complicated.” And terrifying.

  Taylor was getting annoyed with me. “Fine. If that’s how you’re going be, then fine.” She pulled the truck back onto the highway and went about ignoring me.

  “Taylor?”

  “What is it, Ana?” Her voice was dripping with irritation.

  “Promise me that if I ever tell you to run, that you’ll take your mom and dad and leave town immediately. No questions asked.”

  “Huh? But—”

  “Promise me, Taylor. I’m being very serious right now.”

  Taylor eyes were big when she turned to look at me. “It’s something awful, isn’t it?”

  I nodded. “Now promise.”

  “I…I promise.”

  **********

  For some reason, it surprised me to see that we had a substitute for Ms. Moorer’s last period math class. As if any adult witch or warlock wasn’t completely focused on the impending vampire attack. It was all I could think about too.

  The worksheet the sub passed out went untouched as it sat on the edge of my desk. I had my head down, with my arms wrapped around it. I was here to do some thinking, and that was what I intended to do for the next hour and a half.

  Fifteen minutes of thinking left me as clueless about what I could do to fix things as I began. Now I was just bored. I could always check in on things back home by connecting with someone’s mind but I’d promised myself that I would never violate someone’s privacy like that—especially someone I cared about.

  I sighed, and then a person came to mind whose thoughts I was very curious about at the moment. Tristan’s. I shook the thought from my head. We’d made a promise that last night would be the last contact we ever had. It would be easier that way, for what I needed to do. But the images I’d seen of him hurting me weighed too heavily to ignore. What would lead him to do that? Was he starting to have second thoughts already? Did Tristan want to live?

  I made up my mind. Tristan didn’t share me and London’s gift. That meant that I could slip into his head without him ever knowing. I spent a few minutes trying to convince myself that this wasn’t technically a breach in our agreement. In the end, I decided I needed to know what was going on with him, regardless of whether or not it was or wasn’t.

  I concentrated my thoughts. “!” It worked, I felt my mind latch onto Tristan’s.

  Before anything else, I could smell the rain. Next came the sounds: car horns, rain against pavement, footsteps… Finally, I could see. He was looking down at the moment, trying not to draw attention to himself. He was wearing a tan colored trench coat over slacks and the rain was splashing onto and around his black shoes. He was at a bus stop, it seemed, though his thoughts were on a black limousine.

  A few buses stopped, and he’d been told by more than one driver that he could ride for free if he was out of money. Apparently, a terrible storm was coming in a few hours. This bit of rain was merely a prelude. Tristan politely refused.

  After fifteen minutes or so, a black SUV caught his eye, turning the corner at a leisurely pace before slowing to a stop in front of him. Tristan’s senses became alert; he was instructed to wait for a black limousine, not a black truck. The front passenger-side window rolled down.

  “A change of plans,” came a husky voice. The man that addressed him wore a thick grey beard with matching hair. “Mr. Dashkov will be meeting you at one of his restaurants.”

  Tristan eyed him carefully for a moment. Then he stood up and proceeded to walk away. The truck sped up to meet him.

  The man was smiling now. “Mr. Dashkov said that if you refused, you were definitely the man you said you were. You will be meeting him at his home, as was agreed upon.”

  The side door slid open and Tristan thought for a moment. He wanted to walk away, but an image of me flashed in his mind, and that was enough to get him inside the truck.

  “Never change the plan—Mr. Dashkov learned that from you?”

  Tristan didn’t answer, but his mind told me that it was true. Regret washed over Tristan, for he had also taught the man he was going meet both malice and cruelty as well—necessities of being a skilled killer. For a moment he wondered how it must have seemed to have someone who looked so young be the purported mentor of their “employer,” but from the nervous glances the driver kept shooting back via the rearview mirror, Tristan guessed that they were fully aware of what he was.

  It only took a few minutes before the truck had escaped the city and now trees and fields surrounded the two-lane road. The men up front laughed it up now—an inside joke it appeared—while Tristan stared out the window. His thoughts were on me; he wondered how I was doing, whether or not I’d thought of him since last night. The intensity of his feelings almost sent me running out of his mind. Between his and my own, it was almost too much at once.

  “We’re here,” spoke the man from the passenger seat. The truck had turned onto a dirt road that led off into some trees. A large brick building stood in the clearing that emerged. Once upon a time, it had been an old factory. The rusted smokestacks rising from the top gave it away.

  The truck stopped near the large red double doors at the front and deposited Tristan there. The doors opened and a teenage girl glanced up at him with deadened eyes. Her face was expressionless, the bones starting to show underneath. Her entire body was malnourished, just skin and bones. Worse than that, he could smell the venom in her veins. Like him, she would forever be a teenager.

  She was shaking as she spoke. “I will show you to Mr. Dashkov.” The voice startled us both. It sounded so very similar to my own.

  The interior of the factory had been completely renovated to look like a residence, albeit a very large residence. Animal skin rugs, antique furniture, sculptures and paintings dominated the interior of this place, not that Tristan was particularly impressed with any of it. He was focused on the skinny vampire who’d spoken with my voice, who limped in front of him now as if every step was agony. Given the state of her condition, it very well could be.

  “Mr. Wilder,” spoke the middle aged Russian as he stepped into view. He wore a burgundy sweater and khaki pants, and was currently sipping on what smelled like hot chocolate. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company? By all accounts, you should be dead right now.”

  Tristan did not seem at all amused. His thoughts were still on the girl. That voice had struck at something within him, and it was bothering him greatly. Still, he forced himself to remember that his visit had a purpose.

  “You know why I’m here, Vladimir.”

  Mr. Dashkov put his cruel smile on display. “Of course I do. You want revenge against Daemon for killing Surya.”

  “Will you help me?” Tristan asked.

  “Help the man who abandoned us for some filthy witch?” He laughed and then started to shake his head. “You have no idea how we worshipped you. The most lethal vampire the world has probably ever seen—your feats envied, your fearless nature, legendary. We were forever diminished by your decision to leave us for the enemy.”

  “I’m not here to hash up the past,” Tristan sighed in frustration.

  “Aren’t you, though?” he smiled again. “Revenge deals only in the past.”

  Tristan turned around for the door and the man laughed out loud. “I never said that I wouldn’t help. But it won’t be for you. No, you don’t deserve my loyalty. It will be for Surya. She’s the one who bore the shame of your decision. She restored the Second Army to its former glory. All for you. But then, love makes you do crazy things, doesn’t it? I’m asking because it has been so long since I’ve felt the emotion myself.”

  Again, I could feel regret welling up inside of Tristan. Mr. Dashkov recognized it.

  “So you did know,” he said. “Of course you did. It’s why you chose her as your lieutenant over me, isn’t it? You knew she would always come to bail you out of whatever impossibly reckless predicament you got yourself into. You couldn’t count on any of the rest of us being that stupid. Poor Surya, to have lived and loved and only ever be a pawn because of it.”

  “Are you done?” Tristan asked him. He was playing indifferent, but Mr. Dashkov’s words tore at his insides.

  Mr. Dashkov only smiled. “I am. I will contact the others. They will fight for you. You’re still a god in their eyes—despite the evidence to the contrary.”

  It was then another young girl stumbled into the room. She too was a teenager, no more than sixteen or seventeen, and had the dazed stare of someone who’d been drugged. She looked right at Tristan. “Help me, please…”

  In an instant Mr. Dashkov was there, and he hit the girl so hard she spun twice in the air. “How dare you interrupt me while I entertain a guest!” The girl was shaking on the floor, sobbing silently. Tristan’s body willed him to react, but his mind kept him still. He was clinging desperately to an image of me. He needed this man if he was going to protect me.

  Mr. Dashkov turned his eyes on the young vampire girl now. She had been behind Tristan, quietly out of the way this entire time. “Why didn’t you prevent this humiliation? I gave you my gift. You should have heard her wake up. You should have prevented this!”

  In another split second, he was standing over her. She crouched, attempting to cover herself up as he lifted his hand to strike her next.

  “Please, don’t hurt me.” She’d barely whispered.

  Before Mr. Dashkov could even think to defend himself, his life as a vampire was over. Tristan helped the girl to her feet, and then went over and wrapped the human girl in his arms. Her jaw was shattered. She needed a hospital.

  After giving Mr. Dashkov’s employees the scare of their lives (they wouldn’t step foot in this city again), he settled the two girls into the truck and headed back towards the city.

  He’d failed—he was convinced of that. He needed Dashkov to act as a bridge between he and the army of vampires he once commanded. Without Dashkov, he didn’t even know how to contact them. With Dashkov dead, they might even be recruited into Daemon’s ranks. However he chose to look at it, his playing hero had made the task of achieving my purpose that much harder. For the first time he allowed himself to think, “What if she fails?”

  He’d put what was right before what he wanted. If I’d been able to do that, in any of the lives I’d led, then Brighton would not be facing certain annihilation. Daemon would be long dead, and the suffering at the hands of the vampires would be over as well.

  Not that he saw it that way at the moment. Sure, our being together had taught him to seek out the goodness he’d cast aside as a vampire; his human decency wouldn’t allow him to leave those girls at the hands of that monster. But what good was it if it cost him my life? The fear that his mistake might have cost me an eternity in heaven became suffocating.

  Now I was really about to break our promise.

  “Tristan, you did the right thing.”

  He nearly swerved off the road. “Ana?”

  I let his mind slip away from me and I found myself back in the classroom. Alone. The sub had taken the courtesy of writing me a note which explained why I now had detention this Saturday. Well, assuming I was still alive.

  Chapter Six

  Reunion

  The ride back home with Taylor started off as silent as the ride this morning had begun. She didn’t seem too eager to learn the specifics about the danger we faced anymore, nor was I particularly keen on sharing. My thoughts were on Tristan, and the vampire girl he’d saved. If by some miracle I did succeed in killing Daemon, I’d be killing that poor girl too. It was one more worry to add to the list of others.

  A call to Taylor’s phone interrupted my thoughts. She pointed it toward me. “It’s for you. Darren.”

  Surprised, I took the phone and put it up to my face. “Hello?”

  “Hey, it’s me. I just wanted to give you a heads up. There was a vote and it was decided that Duncan would be the best person to head up our defenses—”

  Darren was still talking but I had dropped the phone.

  “What’s wrong?” Taylor asked, worried. “What did he say?”

  “Duncan—he’s back…”

  “But that’s crazy! They know what he tried to do to you. Why would they do something like that?”

  “Because the vampires have declared war on us, and they’re not taking any chances.”

  **********

  Taylor seemed to be lost in her thoughts after that—the Jeep was practically navigating the remainder of the trip on autopilot.

  We passed at least a dozen guardians on the winding driveway that led back to my house. It was broad daylight. Did they really expect an attack in the middle of the afternoon? Better safe than sorry, I reasoned. As I had told Taylor, the same held true for Duncan’s return as well. I just wondered if they’d bothered to consider how their “other” angel might feel about that decision. I wasn’t the only conjurer he’d tried to kill.

  By the time we’d parked Taylor’s jeep in the side parking lot and traversed the short walkway leading back to the house, there was a large gathering of witches and warlocks in the small field between the back of the house and the gardens. For a moment, my mind flashed back to that night when I’d been sentenced to death at the stake. There was a large gathering just like this one, and the vast majority were perfectly willing to sit there and watch me be burned alive. Duncan had led the charge. For a moment, I felt like maybe they deserved what was coming. I quickly shook those thoughts out of my head. That was only my nerves talking. The world had a lot more reason to be angry with me than I with it.

  We spotted Chris standing with a couple other high school kids and Taylor led us over in that direction. It was probably the last place I wanted to be but given the news I’d just delivered to her, I was willing to do whatever made her feel comfortable.

  “Guess you heard then,” he’d said to me as we walked up. He seemed uncertain whether or not to display his concern. We hadn’t exactly been “friends” since his father had joined Duncan’s campaign against me a couple months back. My reaction would determine whether or not he put down his portion of the wall between us.

  “Yeah, I just got the phone call.” I tried to make my voice as non-confrontational as possible. The future was much too frightening to be stuck in past grudges. Particularly when my quarrel wasn’t with him.