Chapter 15
CHAPTER 15
I have the world’s worst hangover but don’t remember how it happened. My head pounds and I am in desperate need of water. I also can’t wrap my brain around where I am. Home? I have to be home. But I don’t usually drink so much that I don’t know where I am. I’m really going to have to reevaluate my habits.
I crack open an eye and am assaulted by bright winter sunlight. It sends a stabbing pain straight through my head.
“Ah, there we are,” a voice mocks. “How are we feeling?”
Definitely not home.
The memories come flooding back. The drones. The cells. Antonio. Nick. Nana. I open both eyes. I’m in a ginormous open space furnished like one of those super fancy apartments in an architecture magazine, including floor-to-ceiling windows with a great view of the Manhattan skyline.
The furniture is all white with sharp angles and expensive materials. Artwork dots the space - weird sculptures that are supposed to mean something. It’s nothing like the mass of antiques and thrift shop junk at home. But then being a killer probably pays better than selling coffee.
In the middle of the room, there is a huge table, oak with wrought iron legs, some kind of desk. Sitting behind it, hands folded on the bare surface sits the Ripper. He’s out of his bundled up look, lounging around in some sharp business casual attire like we’re going to have cocktails and seal some kind of deal.
None of which matters, of course, because I’m going to blast him, trash this place, and get the hell out of here. Pushing down the massive pounding in my skull, I center all of my magic, all of my power, into my body and prepare to unleash it like a nuclear bomb. Goodbye windows.
“Tristan. Seriously? You think you can burst into my home and simply annihilate me and
my precious belongings? How foolish do you think I am?”
“I think you’re pretty stupid if I think I’m going to let you annihilate me.”
“Perhaps that little tap to the head was too much. You are forgetting so many important details.” Before I can ask him what details, he continues. “Like the fact that we are holding several of those you care for most in very precarious situations. Your friend, for example, Nick. So human. So fragile. It would be quite easy for us to eliminate him in the most cruel and painful manner. And your grandmother, beloved Nana. Will she ever wake up? Who is to say? And then, let’s see...who do we have left? Ah, Lucas. What a valiant effort he made to save you - especially after what happened last time. He is truly the most noble of Watchers. And yet he, too, has his weak points and, well, we appear to have found them. I’m not quite sure how much time he has left. So if you would like to ensure that any of these most important members of your inner circle live to see another day, perhaps you should put your plans on hold and listen to what I have in mind.”
It would be great if I could hide how much he has me rattled, but hearing the names of everyone I care about tossed around like he has total control over them is not doing much for my confidence. I squeeze my hands into fists and consider how I could destroy him and rescue everyone else. But when I try to lift my hands from the arms of the chair I’ve been stashed in, I don’t seem to be able to move. Shit. That’s unexpected. I’m not even attached in any way - at least not in any way I can see.
“You are powerful, Tristan, but we are not weak and we have infinitely more experience.”
Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic.
“What do you want?”
He laughs. “Is that really a question? I’ve already told you what I want and I’ve offered you several paths to obtain it. I think that was very generous.” He walks up closer. The part of my brain that needs to get it together, notices that he is handsome, really handsome. Sharp features, light blue eyes, granite jaw. No wonder he can get people to do what he wants. This is the face of a monster.
He bends down, closer to my face. I instinctively back away from the darkness that radiates off of him.
“Who is it you would like to deal with first?” he asks.
I pull my eyebrows together. God, my head hurts.
“Which one of your loved ones should I bring in first to help persuade you to join us?”
I refuse to say a name. If I choose one, will he think that one is most important and slaughter him right here in front of me? If I leave one out, he might assume that is the most important. Besides, there is no most important at this level.
He snaps his fingers. “I have an idea!” The Ripper shouts a name over his shoulder. Two young guys dressed like we’re at prom and not in a killer’s lair step up. “Bring me the girl,” he says.
They nod and leave the room without asking who he is talking about.
“You know, Tristan,” apparently we are going to chat while we wait, “I feel fairly certain that your life hasn’t been at all what it should be. Someone of your extreme power, your extraordinary ability shouldn’t be slaving away in a shop answering to the whims of customers. Who are they to command you to do anything? They should fall at your feet,” he says, “and ask what they can do to be in your good graces. It should be an honor for them to communicate with you in any way.”
As appealing as that argument is supposed to be, it is pretty much lost on me. I wasn’t raised to think I was better than anyone else and I’m not sure that even with all this power, I am. I’ve still made mistakes, still said stupid things, in the short time since I found out about this stuff. I can’t imagine that any of that is going to change over time. The idea that people should literally bow down before me might tempt someone else, but it isn’t something I care about all that much.
The door opens again and the two guys return dragging someone between them. She’s wearing a flowery tunic and leggings, hair in her face. She is also barefoot like Antonio. What’s up with the shoes?
The Ripper steps in front of her. “On your knees,” he hisses. He flicks his hand through the air and, without even touching her, the girl falls to her knees. From the way her shoulders shudder, I assume she’s crying. Our captor moves behind her and grabs a handful of dark hair, jerking her head back so I can see her face. Jannelis.
“Shit,” I mutter.
“This creature is one of those about whom I just spoke.” He jerks on her hair and Jannelis screams, the tears flowing harder.
“And she is just one of many, those many who pass you by every day, who not only treat you as unimportant, but who treat you with utter contempt and disrespect. Speak, girl,” he addresses her. “What is it you called Tristan in the shop?”
Jannelis continues crying without answering. His hand tangles in her hair even tighter.
“Witch,” she whispers.
He bends down next to her ear. “What’s that? You’ll need to speak up.”
“Witch,” she shouts.
There is nothing in me that wants to protect Jannelis but calling me names doesn’t seem to be an offense punishable by death.
“Her and everybody else,” I point out. “Big deal.”
“Young lady,” the Ripper continues, circling her. “Tell Tristan your intention when you called her a witch in the shop.”
“Again,” I interject, wanting to get this over with, “not news.”
The Ripper kicks her in the back of the legs.
“I said it because I thought that guy was your boyfriend and I wanted him to know what a bitch you are. I wanted him to think twice about hanging out with you.”
“Why?” I say it against my will, the words just spewing out before I can consider the repercussions. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t care.”
“Don’t you, though?” The Ripper makes his way over to me. His aura arrives before he does, wrapping me in a dark cloud that fogs my brain. “You don’t care that this creature humiliated you again and again over the course of your life and then, when you finally thought you were rid of her, she arrives out of nowhere trying to hurt you once again. Is that really what you want for yourself?” His voice becomes a whisper that twines itself around my thoughts. “It would be so easy, Tristan, pushing another person’s mind. Surely you’ve done it at least a few times. I know you did it just last night, in fact. Was it not easy? And no one was any the wiser. To read a human with your level of accuracy is to know not only what he feels, but what he thinks and then, with the barest brush of magic, you need only to push, to nudge and voilà, all of the petty annoyances disappear.”
He’s right, of course. Did I hurt that bartender when I made her give me the drink? Would it have harmed Jannelis if I’d nudged her right out of the shop the way I had considered doing? No and no. And what other things would I do? It’s not like I would keep anyone in a cage. But I would get Nana off her feet, free Miranda from the shop. Maybe even get the aunts to stop bossing us all around. Power like that could be freeing.
“Why don’t you try it?” The Ripper’s voice is low, almost soothing - except for the undercurrent of danger tugging at the edges. “This girl, weak and useless as she is in this form, you could turn her into your slave to forever do your bidding. Never again could she humiliate you.”
Open her veins. Let her blood flow. Mingle the scarlet liquid with my magic, with the ancient words of the grimoire. And then, she would forever be mine.
“You feel it, don’t you, Tristan? The power. You know you want it. And your power together with ours. Never in the history of the Seekers has there ever been magic on such a scale. Imagine what we could do - together. And all it would take is a little bit of your blood, given willingly.”
A sharp pain shoots along my forearm. My eyes move to it slowly. I’m tired. So very tired. Something burns. I glance down and blood pools along the inside of my arm, a scarlet stripe across my pale white skin.
Dammit. He’s cut me.
Whatever trance he’s had me in clears away instantaneously. Magic rises up to rescue me. I wrench my arm away from the chair where it has been pinned and slam my palm into his chest. I’m not nearly at full strength but it sure as hell stings. He staggers back.
“My apologies,” he grunts. “I should have asked your permission.”
“Yeah and I would have told you to shove it up your ass. Get the hell away from me, freak. And let her alone.” I shoot a shaft of power at the two guys on either side of Jannelis. I don’t like her. I might even hate her. But I sure as hell don’t want to kill her. And why, oh, why would I want to share my power with anyone this evil?
The Ripper turns and jerks his head, indicating he wants the drones to clear away with Jannelis.
“Bring us something more tempting,” he instructs.
I jump to my feet and blood runs down my arm, dripping off the tips of my fingers. The Rippers eyes turn toward the drops seemingly in spite of himself. He obviously doesn’t want me to know how much he covets it, but his sharp look and rapid breathing are a giveaway.
Checking out the room, there is no exit except for the door that leads straight to the drones and, no doubt, at least a few more Rippers. I have to get out of here, though, and create a plan to break Nick and Lucas and Antonio - and now, Jannelis - out of here. There are no options here. It’s everyone or no one. Piece of cake.
The door opens and I consider rushing it with a giant burst of magic - until I see who is behind it. Two drones come in, Nick between them. His dark hair is messy and his eyes are huge, but he looks otherwise unharmed.
“Nick,” I cry and make a move to rush forward.
“Ah, ah,” the Ripper warns. I notice he’s increased the distance between us since my last trick. “We’re not done yet.”
There is a commotion in the hallway - cursing, grunting, shouting. The sound of a fight. The door flies open and, instead of the two drones I keep seeing, an entire posse comes bursting into the room. They are disheveled - shirts untucked, a sleeve ripped from the shoulder - and bloody. They surround someone who doesn’t move. I assume he’s unconscious. The drones in the front step away to show me who they have now. Lucas.
“It seems,” the Ripper says, “you have some decisions to make.”
I have the world’s worst hangover but don’t remember how it happened. My head pounds and I am in desperate need of water. I also can’t wrap my brain around where I am. Home? I have to be home. But I don’t usually drink so much that I don’t know where I am. I’m really going to have to reevaluate my habits.
I crack open an eye and am assaulted by bright winter sunlight. It sends a stabbing pain straight through my head.
“Ah, there we are,” a voice mocks. “How are we feeling?”
Definitely not home.
The memories come flooding back. The drones. The cells. Antonio. Nick. Nana. I open both eyes. I’m in a ginormous open space furnished like one of those super fancy apartments in an architecture magazine, including floor-to-ceiling windows with a great view of the Manhattan skyline.
The furniture is all white with sharp angles and expensive materials. Artwork dots the space - weird sculptures that are supposed to mean something. It’s nothing like the mass of antiques and thrift shop junk at home. But then being a killer probably pays better than selling coffee.
In the middle of the room, there is a huge table, oak with wrought iron legs, some kind of desk. Sitting behind it, hands folded on the bare surface sits the Ripper. He’s out of his bundled up look, lounging around in some sharp business casual attire like we’re going to have cocktails and seal some kind of deal.
None of which matters, of course, because I’m going to blast him, trash this place, and get the hell out of here. Pushing down the massive pounding in my skull, I center all of my magic, all of my power, into my body and prepare to unleash it like a nuclear bomb. Goodbye windows.
“Tristan. Seriously? You think you can burst into my home and simply annihilate me and
my precious belongings? How foolish do you think I am?”
“I think you’re pretty stupid if I think I’m going to let you annihilate me.”
“Perhaps that little tap to the head was too much. You are forgetting so many important details.” Before I can ask him what details, he continues. “Like the fact that we are holding several of those you care for most in very precarious situations. Your friend, for example, Nick. So human. So fragile. It would be quite easy for us to eliminate him in the most cruel and painful manner. And your grandmother, beloved Nana. Will she ever wake up? Who is to say? And then, let’s see...who do we have left? Ah, Lucas. What a valiant effort he made to save you - especially after what happened last time. He is truly the most noble of Watchers. And yet he, too, has his weak points and, well, we appear to have found them. I’m not quite sure how much time he has left. So if you would like to ensure that any of these most important members of your inner circle live to see another day, perhaps you should put your plans on hold and listen to what I have in mind.”
It would be great if I could hide how much he has me rattled, but hearing the names of everyone I care about tossed around like he has total control over them is not doing much for my confidence. I squeeze my hands into fists and consider how I could destroy him and rescue everyone else. But when I try to lift my hands from the arms of the chair I’ve been stashed in, I don’t seem to be able to move. Shit. That’s unexpected. I’m not even attached in any way - at least not in any way I can see.
“You are powerful, Tristan, but we are not weak and we have infinitely more experience.”
Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic.
“What do you want?”
He laughs. “Is that really a question? I’ve already told you what I want and I’ve offered you several paths to obtain it. I think that was very generous.” He walks up closer. The part of my brain that needs to get it together, notices that he is handsome, really handsome. Sharp features, light blue eyes, granite jaw. No wonder he can get people to do what he wants. This is the face of a monster.
He bends down, closer to my face. I instinctively back away from the darkness that radiates off of him.
“Who is it you would like to deal with first?” he asks.
I pull my eyebrows together. God, my head hurts.
“Which one of your loved ones should I bring in first to help persuade you to join us?”
I refuse to say a name. If I choose one, will he think that one is most important and slaughter him right here in front of me? If I leave one out, he might assume that is the most important. Besides, there is no most important at this level.
He snaps his fingers. “I have an idea!” The Ripper shouts a name over his shoulder. Two young guys dressed like we’re at prom and not in a killer’s lair step up. “Bring me the girl,” he says.
They nod and leave the room without asking who he is talking about.
“You know, Tristan,” apparently we are going to chat while we wait, “I feel fairly certain that your life hasn’t been at all what it should be. Someone of your extreme power, your extraordinary ability shouldn’t be slaving away in a shop answering to the whims of customers. Who are they to command you to do anything? They should fall at your feet,” he says, “and ask what they can do to be in your good graces. It should be an honor for them to communicate with you in any way.”
As appealing as that argument is supposed to be, it is pretty much lost on me. I wasn’t raised to think I was better than anyone else and I’m not sure that even with all this power, I am. I’ve still made mistakes, still said stupid things, in the short time since I found out about this stuff. I can’t imagine that any of that is going to change over time. The idea that people should literally bow down before me might tempt someone else, but it isn’t something I care about all that much.
The door opens again and the two guys return dragging someone between them. She’s wearing a flowery tunic and leggings, hair in her face. She is also barefoot like Antonio. What’s up with the shoes?
The Ripper steps in front of her. “On your knees,” he hisses. He flicks his hand through the air and, without even touching her, the girl falls to her knees. From the way her shoulders shudder, I assume she’s crying. Our captor moves behind her and grabs a handful of dark hair, jerking her head back so I can see her face. Jannelis.
“Shit,” I mutter.
“This creature is one of those about whom I just spoke.” He jerks on her hair and Jannelis screams, the tears flowing harder.
“And she is just one of many, those many who pass you by every day, who not only treat you as unimportant, but who treat you with utter contempt and disrespect. Speak, girl,” he addresses her. “What is it you called Tristan in the shop?”
Jannelis continues crying without answering. His hand tangles in her hair even tighter.
“Witch,” she whispers.
He bends down next to her ear. “What’s that? You’ll need to speak up.”
“Witch,” she shouts.
There is nothing in me that wants to protect Jannelis but calling me names doesn’t seem to be an offense punishable by death.
“Her and everybody else,” I point out. “Big deal.”
“Young lady,” the Ripper continues, circling her. “Tell Tristan your intention when you called her a witch in the shop.”
“Again,” I interject, wanting to get this over with, “not news.”
The Ripper kicks her in the back of the legs.
“I said it because I thought that guy was your boyfriend and I wanted him to know what a bitch you are. I wanted him to think twice about hanging out with you.”
“Why?” I say it against my will, the words just spewing out before I can consider the repercussions. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t care.”
“Don’t you, though?” The Ripper makes his way over to me. His aura arrives before he does, wrapping me in a dark cloud that fogs my brain. “You don’t care that this creature humiliated you again and again over the course of your life and then, when you finally thought you were rid of her, she arrives out of nowhere trying to hurt you once again. Is that really what you want for yourself?” His voice becomes a whisper that twines itself around my thoughts. “It would be so easy, Tristan, pushing another person’s mind. Surely you’ve done it at least a few times. I know you did it just last night, in fact. Was it not easy? And no one was any the wiser. To read a human with your level of accuracy is to know not only what he feels, but what he thinks and then, with the barest brush of magic, you need only to push, to nudge and voilà, all of the petty annoyances disappear.”
He’s right, of course. Did I hurt that bartender when I made her give me the drink? Would it have harmed Jannelis if I’d nudged her right out of the shop the way I had considered doing? No and no. And what other things would I do? It’s not like I would keep anyone in a cage. But I would get Nana off her feet, free Miranda from the shop. Maybe even get the aunts to stop bossing us all around. Power like that could be freeing.
“Why don’t you try it?” The Ripper’s voice is low, almost soothing - except for the undercurrent of danger tugging at the edges. “This girl, weak and useless as she is in this form, you could turn her into your slave to forever do your bidding. Never again could she humiliate you.”
Open her veins. Let her blood flow. Mingle the scarlet liquid with my magic, with the ancient words of the grimoire. And then, she would forever be mine.
“You feel it, don’t you, Tristan? The power. You know you want it. And your power together with ours. Never in the history of the Seekers has there ever been magic on such a scale. Imagine what we could do - together. And all it would take is a little bit of your blood, given willingly.”
A sharp pain shoots along my forearm. My eyes move to it slowly. I’m tired. So very tired. Something burns. I glance down and blood pools along the inside of my arm, a scarlet stripe across my pale white skin.
Dammit. He’s cut me.
Whatever trance he’s had me in clears away instantaneously. Magic rises up to rescue me. I wrench my arm away from the chair where it has been pinned and slam my palm into his chest. I’m not nearly at full strength but it sure as hell stings. He staggers back.
“My apologies,” he grunts. “I should have asked your permission.”
“Yeah and I would have told you to shove it up your ass. Get the hell away from me, freak. And let her alone.” I shoot a shaft of power at the two guys on either side of Jannelis. I don’t like her. I might even hate her. But I sure as hell don’t want to kill her. And why, oh, why would I want to share my power with anyone this evil?
The Ripper turns and jerks his head, indicating he wants the drones to clear away with Jannelis.
“Bring us something more tempting,” he instructs.
I jump to my feet and blood runs down my arm, dripping off the tips of my fingers. The Rippers eyes turn toward the drops seemingly in spite of himself. He obviously doesn’t want me to know how much he covets it, but his sharp look and rapid breathing are a giveaway.
Checking out the room, there is no exit except for the door that leads straight to the drones and, no doubt, at least a few more Rippers. I have to get out of here, though, and create a plan to break Nick and Lucas and Antonio - and now, Jannelis - out of here. There are no options here. It’s everyone or no one. Piece of cake.
The door opens and I consider rushing it with a giant burst of magic - until I see who is behind it. Two drones come in, Nick between them. His dark hair is messy and his eyes are huge, but he looks otherwise unharmed.
“Nick,” I cry and make a move to rush forward.
“Ah, ah,” the Ripper warns. I notice he’s increased the distance between us since my last trick. “We’re not done yet.”
There is a commotion in the hallway - cursing, grunting, shouting. The sound of a fight. The door flies open and, instead of the two drones I keep seeing, an entire posse comes bursting into the room. They are disheveled - shirts untucked, a sleeve ripped from the shoulder - and bloody. They surround someone who doesn’t move. I assume he’s unconscious. The drones in the front step away to show me who they have now. Lucas.
“It seems,” the Ripper says, “you have some decisions to make.”
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