Leo continued. “At first I knew nothing about you, about the spell, or the venom issue. But slowly, as Sofie learned to trust me, as I began feeding her bits of information and described strange happenings that I heard of with my ear to the ground, she confided in me.” He gave me a gentle smile that pulled at the wrinkled skin around his mouth. “By the time you stepped out of Viggo’s private jet, I knew you quite well.” Returning his gaze to the window, he paused, his mind drifting. “Maeve and I were never able to have children. She was in her forties when we married. We tried, but it never took.” Just as quickly, he drifted back into our conversation. “Planting me in there was brilliant on Sofie’s part. Unfortunately I knew nothing about Ursula. Viggo kept that one close to his unbeating heart.”
“I don’t know how Sofie keeps up with all these schemes of hers,” I muttered, feeling a twinge of envy over her brilliance. “I mean . . . this place!” I wished I had a hundredth of her cunning. She had designed an escape route for every escape route of every situation, even the most wild and unplanned.
Leo’s arms unfolded to punctuate his words with movement. “Oh, you don’t know the half of it! The cost and complexity of building this place up here? Creating a fully self-sufficient cabin on undiscovered land? It has taken ten years and countless helicopter crews. She compelled every single builder, supplier, bookkeeper—anyone at all—so as not to risk a trail here for Viggo or Mortimer to follow. There is nothing that woman hasn’t thought of regarding your safety, I can promise you that.” His declaration allowed me a large sigh of relief; I had a maternal vampiress watching over me.
But then those pulsating red eyes pushed into my memory and my chest tightened. “Leo, will my friends ever be normal again?”
Leo approached slowly and stopped next to my bed. “They were never normal, Evangeline. They’re vampires.” He paused. “I could help you forget them, if you wanted. But my magic isn’t like a vampire’s compulsion. I wouldn’t be able to isolate specifics. I’d likely wipe out the past month completely. You might not even remember them.”
“No!” I exclaimed, more a shout in the dead silence of the night. Not remember them? Forget the angelic ring of Amelie’s giggles? Forget the shivers that ran through my body every time Caden gazed in my direction? Forget that all-consuming warmth of love? Never. I modulated my voice. “No, that’s okay. I don’t want to forget what’s happened.”
Leo smiled. “That’s good, because I might accidentally lobotomize you.” He placed his hand on my forehead and said somberly, “You need your rest, Evangeline.”
I groaned. “I’m trying, but I can’t. Every time I close my eyes, I see . . . ” My words became garbled as a feeling of calm and peace washed over me; my eyelids became too heavy to keep open.
“Go to sleep now, my dear girl,” Leo murmured distantly, following that with a low chant. He was casting a spell, I realized. I didn’t care; the sound of his voice welcomed, soothed. I felt the lightest peck on my forehead just before I drifted off, meadows and children’s laughter replacing the image of Caden’s burning eyes.
A gray and white marble hallway stretched ahead of me, illuminated by wall sconces that flickered repeatedly, as if touched by a power surge. It looked like the hallway outside my room in Viggo and Mortimer’s home, only different. Was it wider? Longer? I stepped forward and teetered, then looked down at heeled shoes, three inches high, peeking from beneath the silky folds of a jade green evening gown. It was the same outfit I’d worn on the night of my eighteenth birthday. Instinct pulled my head to look over my shoulder for Max, but he was nowhere in sight. I was completely alone—an oddity within these walls, where there always seemed to be eyes on me.
And then it hit me: I’m dreaming. All suddenly became clear. This had already happened. I had already lived this.
What should I do?The atrium. Maybe I’ll find Sofie there. I walked slowly toward the stairs at the end of the hall, reveling in the feel of my gown, the odd sense of relaxation whirling around me. I hadn’t felt this peaceful since my birthday.
Suddenly the stairs disappeared and the hallway stretched out ahead for miles with no end in sight. A surge of anxiety replaced the warm, tranquil feeling; I was late for something, I was sure of it, but I had no idea what. I picked up my pace, rushing down the hall, hoping that the stairs would reappear. But the hall kept stretching farther and farther ahead of me. Finally I kicked off my shoes, hiked up my dress, and ran. My breathing became labored, the need to get to those stairs—to my destination—crushing.