Mortimer smiled wryly. “Believe me, I wondered. I still wonder sometimes, but I witnessed it. I know the uncontrollable pull that I feel inside me is the same one inside of him. Sofie offered him sole custody of Veronique’s pendant in exchange for him staying out of her hair. He seemed happy with that.” I didn’t doubt it, given I hadn’t once seen him without it proudly displayed on his person.
“But … why do it in the first place? You’re now at Sofie’s mercy, aren’t you?” I pressed, bewildered by this whole concept.
“Well, to be frank, we didn’t have much choice,” Mortimer explained. He tugged at my arm, forcing me to move up the stairs once again. “After the way the two of us have behaved, Sofie was ready to set us both on fire and peg it on the sorceresses when Veronique awoke. I can’t believe she didn’t. But she didn’t. She gave us a choice. Pledge our allegiance to her, or die. That she gave us an option … well, Sofie finally has earned my full respect.” His head shook reproachfully. “If Mage has taught us anything—if that disastrous attack back in Manhattan has taught us anything—it’s that we must work together. We can’t be going off with our own agendas, with our own plans. We end up sabotaging ourselves. We need a united front against our enemies and to free Veronique.”
Veronique. Again, like the prick of a needle in my flesh, that name. A flash of a menacing witch looming over me, a whip gripped firmly in her hand, posed to strike, turned my blood to ice. With a quick jerk of my head, I tried to dislodge the name and the image. It was a dream … it was a dream … it was a dream … but … what if it wasn’t a dream? No … Max said I hadn’t left. But … what if Veronique was being tortured and Sofie were to find out that I knew? If Mortimer and Viggo discovered that I knew and I kept it from them?
I eyed Mortimer warily. What would he do? Would this so-called fealty to Sofie be enough to protect me by association? I doubted it. But what if …
“How do I do that?” I asked in a whisper, almost afraid to voice the words, that he’d somehow read my intentions in them.
He frowned. “Do what?”
“Get a vampire to swear their allegiance to me.”
Mortimer’s snort echoed through the foyer. “Simple. You don’t.” We reached the top of the stairs. “None of us in our right minds would ever give you that much power over us. But I’ve felt your mousy stares on me for the last day, as if I’m about to stab you in the back, so I thought I’d give you some peace of mind.” Mortimer sighed as we walked down the dimly lit hall toward my room. “No … Sofie is not our enemy. She is honorable and she’ll hold up her end of the bargain. It would do us good to remember that.” I wasn’t sure if he was stating a fact or saying it aloud to convince himself. Either way, I remained silent, content to see if Mortimer would share anything else.
“Those other witches and the People’s Sentinel. They are the enemy. They must be stopped.” Pure hatred cast its shadow on Mortimer’s handsome face. Plain as day, even in the darkness of the dimly lit corridor. “Every last one of them will die, I promise you that. That’s what I should’ve been doing all these years, instead of hiding. I should have been gathering information, planning for the attack. I won’t make that mistake again. Mark my words, every last one of those spineless cowards will die.”
I blanched, my eyes flickering to Julian’s closed door. The Sentinel’s closer than you think, Mortimer …
We stopped in front of my room. Mortimer released my arm and reached for the handle. I expected only a gruff goodnight or a vanishing act, but instead, he shocked me with his next words. “I’m sorry about what they did to your friend. She was a nice girl. Quiet. Much more mature than that other one … It’s a shame.”
I stared at his striking but remote face, searching for a twitch, a quirk, some indication of an ulterior motive, some reason why he would show compassion. Nothing. He slowly reached back to scratch his head as he looked off into nothingness, murmuring, “Terrible thing to witness for him …”
“Bishop,” I said, knowing full well that Bishop’s name was not lost to Mortimer. Vampires were a lot of things. Forgetful was not one of them. He chose not to say it.
“I understand why Sofie has to keep him bound. If I had witnessed Veronique burn like that …” Mortimer’s teeth gritted tightly.
“It was pretty terrible, Mortimer,” I agreed, wincing as the memory of Fiona’s lifeless eyes—once a lively violet—flashed through my mind. The second the words were out of my mouth, I realized my mistake, what I had all but admitted to. Mortimer certainly didn’t miss it, his head cocked to one side as a funny quirk pulled at his brow. “For Bishop to see, I mean,” I added quickly, dropping my gaze to the ground. Stupid Evie! Thank heavens for the Tribe’s magic protecting me from Mortimer’s emotional dissection.