He rolled the poker in his hand. I imagined my fists wrapped around it, my arm raising above his head, and then striking down, powered with all my hatred and fear. I forced the urge aside and ducked my head, afraid he’d pluck my dark thoughts from my face. Viggo might have lost interest in me, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t kill me.
Mage’s voice distracted me from my violent wishes. “Oh, they’ll come. Remember, we have something they want …” She smiled.
“Come? You mean … come here?” I asked. More vampires. Because there aren’t enough. Mage only nodded, offering me a gentle smile. That’s all she ever seemed to do around here—gentle smiles, the voice of reason. I don’t get it! Caden and the others painted this picture of a pure evil vampire and yet she had been nothing but a blood-sucking Mary Poppins. “What do they want?” I asked hesitantly.
Her answer was matter-of-fact. “Among other things … venom.”
Venom? Venom … “They want to convert humans,” I heard myself say out loud.
Mage answered with a smile and nod. “They have humans they care about, who they want to convert. Up until now, they couldn’t. Now they can.”
More humans who could be converted. More vampires who had fallen in love with humans. I guess it made sense. Vampire, or human—everyone falls in love at some point. Even someone as toxic as Viggo. And now they could be converted. Everyone could be converted except for Julian and me;and maybe Veronique. We would die human. A moment of selfish bitterness rolled through my body. How was this fair?
“When will they be here?”
“We’re not sure. We’ve … sent our invitation. We hope they’ll arrive by tomorrow night.”
I blanched. Something about the way she said invitation pricked a nerve. It sounded altogether sinister. “Where are they now?”
Mage smiled. “We’re not exactly sure.”
“Well, then …” My brow creased, my curiosity getting the better of me. “How did you send them an invitation? How do you know they’ll get it?”
“Oh, they’ll get it,” Viggo said, emitting a small but maniacal laugh.
Mage and Mortimer gave each other a sideways glance. Viggo knows how to get in touch with Lilly. Let’s leave it at that,” Mortimer explained.
They’ll be here tomorrow night. A chill rippled through me.
“Cold?” Caden whispered, moving closer, putting his arm around my shoulders. My entire body stiffened under his touch. “Even in that?” A ghost of a smile touched his lips as his fingers seized my pajama collar beneath the robe. “Nice poodles.”
Heat crept up my neck. “They’re French poodles. The temptress of the canine world.” Shut up, Evangeline … what was I implying? That I was trying to tempt him with fuzzy pajamas? In front of an audience? A new wave of embarrassment bowled over me. I wanted to bury my head in a pillow.
Caden chuckled. “You should get back to sleep. You haven’t healed from that injury. You’re still pale.”
Great. A ghost in poodle flannels. Take me now, Caden … I brushed off the self-loathing, silently pleading with him through my gaze.
Opening his mouth, he hesitated. “I’d walk you there, but I don’t want to leave Bishop.” He thrust his chin to a dark corner behind me. Startled, I turned and followed his direction to a looming bookshelf full of black leather-bound encyclopedias I hadn’t noticed before. I also didn’t notice the person propped in a chair beside it. Unmoving. Unsmiling. In a catatonic, magically bound state.
Bishop. Staring right through me.
Seeing the once-boisterous Bishop still a zombie felt like a punch to the gut. “Sofie hasn’t released him yet?” Of course not. Like he would be over the urge to run after seeing the love of his immortal life burn to death. Tears welled. I’m a wretched, selfish person. We were on the brink of a war, one of my dearest friends is heartbroken over my other dear friend’s death, and here I am, trying to tempt Caden back to my room.
“Sofie says he can hear everything. He’s not in any pain,” Caden explained, adding in low mutter, “not physically, anyway.”
I nodded. “He’ll get better, won’t he?” I heard my voice, I knew I asked the question, and yet it was like someone else had spoken.
Another pause. “Bishop’s broken, Evangeline,” he whispered. “He watched his eternal love die. He’s a shattered mess. Unfixable. We’ll never get him back.”
Shattered. Unfixable. Shattered. Unfixable. I shook my head, trying to rattle the words free but they wouldn’t budge. No, no, it couldn’t be. I wouldn’t accept it. “But what about Amelie? Look at her! She survived!” I knew I was borderline hysterical, but I didn’t care. “And she’s in love again! No.” My jaw set stubbornly. “He’ll be fine.” I looked back at Bishop. “Bishop will be fine. He just needs time.”