Allegiance(2)

Viggo’s unsettling icy blue eyes analyzed me, scrutinized my face. He was likely trying to read my emotions. Vampires could do that. When used on a human, it bordered on mind-reading, made easier when the subject was a human who wears her emotions like an apron—as I tended to do. I fought against the urge to flinch under his gaze. So unfriendly, so cold. Not surprising. He was a psychopath, after all. Less than a day ago, he would gladly have killed me to get what he wanted. In fact, that was his plan. Now, though, for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t trying to kill me. He had basically ignored me since I’d woken up in his jet. I was more than fine with that.

“What’s in Paris?” I forced out the question and self-consciously smoothed out my sweater and jeans, silently thanking Amelie for switching clothes with me earlier. Even cocooned within a navy wool blanket, I was constantly fidgeting, checking to see that I wasn’t exposing myself to Viggo and Mortimer. After an hour of watching me fret, Amelie had all but dragged me back to the jet’s only bedroom to swap clothes, insisting I was a prude. Of course the risqué Tribal outfit didn’t bother her. She could strut unfazed down a catwalk in front of a million gawkers in nothing but a thin layer of mud. And upon her return to the main cabin, she certainly did strut … all the way back to Julian’s side. Other than an occasional furtive glance down at a smattering of my dried blood on the material, Amelie was too busy fawning over him to mind wearing what was hardly more than a chewed-up bikini.

Julian certainly didn’t mind the outfit switch. He didn’t mind anything about Amelie, including the fact that she was a vampire. Julian, my partner-in-exile who hated vampires, was twisted into amorous knots over Amelie. Julian, the secret Sentinel spy who would be skinned alive if anyone on board discovered his dirty little secret, was busy fumbling with Amelie’s springy blond curls and giving her googly eyes. But Julian was in rough shape, still healing from Ursula’s attack. He would be dead if not for the Tribe’s crazy body-burning voodoo magic. Unfortunately for him, that same Tribe magic that saved him from dying now kept Sofie from healing him. He was just like me.

But in his few bouts of consciousness, while he stared up at Amelie as if she were an angel descending from the heavens, whose sole purpose was to rescue him, anyone could see he was fully enamored. I could see it in his eyes, in his smile, in the way his fingers cautiously grazed her hand. It was like watching longtime friends who had just discovered their love for each other, though they had only met hours ago.

But Julian had a secret and I was the only one who knew. He was the enemy. The People’s Sentinel spy, marked by them to collect information on Viggo and Mortimer. He said it meant nothing, but I didn’t know if I could believe him. I discovered it back in the Tribe’s camp, when he was left with me, his body scarcely covered with a blanket. The telltale curved cross tattoo on his butt told me immediately who he was. How could I forget? The Sentinel had already tried to kill me once. The mark was firmly emblazoned on my mind.

And now Amelie, my other best friend, the one who had waited seven hundred years in a humanless Hell to find another boyfriend after accidentally killing her own, was falling fast and hard for Julian, and there was nothing I could do. Say anything and it was a death sentence for him and heartbreak for her. I didn’t want to be the one to deliver either of those verdicts. So I averted my eyes and tried not to think about it for fear of someone reading my mood and figuring it out. How on earth they hadn’t yet was beyond me … It was only a matter of time.

“Do you have a house there?” I asked Sofie, eager for a distraction. It would make sense if she did, being Parisian.

“I used to,” she answered cryptically.

“I still don’t understand why we’re not heading back to New York to blow those miserable witches to smithereens,” Viggo said in his casually suggestive tone. “It would be such a shame for that beautiful home, but it’s replaceable. A much faster resolution, if you ask me.”

“And you’ve proven yourself to have wise judgment time and time again,” Mage answered from her corner of the plane, in her typically tranquil voice. I instinctively shrunk against Caden’s chest as I felt her cold, almond-shaped orbs shift to me. I still didn’t understand why Sofie trusted her now.

“It’s too risky to Veronique, even if she’s in a statue,” Sofie agreed with a warning tone.

Oh no … dirty little secret number two. My stomach tightened as visions of the Fifth Avenue mansion engulfed in flames swarmed my mind. Not too risky, Sofie. Deadly. A hundred and twenty years ago, Sofie magically encased her sister in a white marble statue, frozen in time until she could fix the vampire venom issue she had created with her magic. The plan was to release Veronique once it was solved so she could choose who she’d spend her eternal life with—Viggo or Mortimer. Little did they know, the protective marble walls of that statue came crumbling down when the Tribe chief used his magic to free me from the pendant’s curse. I don’t know how or why. It had something to do with our hearts being linked because of the Causal Enchantment Sofie cast.