I sneered in response, his charming façade kindling a desire to punch him in his perfect nose. It was the same façade he had used to lure Evangeline in, to gain her trust. Worse, I had to stand by and watch him spin his repulsive web, powerless to stop him for fear of how he would punish her for my interference. I had learned that horrible lesson five years ago. The last time I overtly crossed him, he murdered Evangeline’s mother, leaving her orphaned.
But he couldn’t hurt her now. She was buried deep within the untouched mountains of Siberia, surrounded by miles of remote wilderness, warm and comfortable in the haven I had spent ten years building. I no longer needed to give Viggo satisfaction by playing along. “You’ll never see Evangeline again!” I sang out, mustering my most obnoxious grin, feeling suddenly giddy.
Viggo’s jaw clenched. Finally, a ripple in that handsome, iron-cast mask. “Is that so?” He took a rigid step toward me but a pale, delicate hand flew to his chest, stopping him. It didn’t actually touch him; it hovered, palm out, inches in front of his charcoal wool suit. Intrigued, I watched Viggo’s cobalt-blue eyes study the little hand for a long moment before sliding up to meet the owner—this undaunted, mysterious female leader who knew my name.
He doesn’t know what to think of her either. I knew how Viggo’s psychopathic mind worked. I had spent a hundred and twenty years with him breathing down my neck. He wondered how old she was. More precisely, he wondered if she could be stronger than him—the oldest vampire on Earth—given that she’d had no human nourishment for seven hundred years. I caught the curious sparkle in his eyes. He was wondering if he should test her. If he failed, he would prove inferior in front of an atrium full of witnesses. Any edge would be lost.
Do it, Viggo, I silently prayed. Not because I wanted to see him fall—though I so desperately did—but because I needed to see what this vampiress was made of.
“Where is Evangeline?” Mortimer’s deep Parisian voice cut through the tension like a sharp blade. It took the tall, dark-haired vampire only half a dozen strides to tower ominously over me. “What is this new game you’re playing with us? Have we not suffered enough?” Mortimer didn’t bother with an act, which was a refreshing change, despite his naturally unpleasant demeanor. He hadn’t always been surly. It had slowly crept in over the years as he waited for my sister’s release from the magical tomb where I had put her. Between the long wait and the anxiety that she would choose Viggo over him, the being my sister had fallen in love with had vanished. Deep down, I pitied him. What a terrible unknown to endure.
But for now, my resentment with these two outweighed any compassion I might dig up from my deepest recesses. I was, for once, enjoying the upper hand, as spiteful as that was. I felt another wicked smile stretch my lips. I dared to reach up to adjust the lapel of Mortimer’s black wool suit jacket. “Somewhere you will never find her. You can—”
“To protect her or harm her?” the little vampiress interjected, suddenly appearing beside Mortimer. Something strange flickered in her eyes. Fury, possibly, though I didn’t see why.
I felt my lips purse tightly, and my minty green eyes narrowed to slits. Try as I might, I couldn’t school my emotions from my face. Who the hell is she to question my intentions for Evangeline? “To protect her, of course,” I delivered in a crisp tone.
“From us?” She indicated the group of hungry Ratheus vampires with a wave of her hand.
I speared her with the flattest look I could muster. “Yes. You.” My eyes flitted over to Caden, who stood huddled within a small circle with his friends some distance away, whispering quietly while watching the event unfold. My eyes shifted to Viggo and Mortimer. “And them.”
“We would never hurt Evangeline,” Viggo began.
“Drop the act,” I snapped. “No one’s buying it.”
“You must be Viggo,” the vampiress murmured, smiling knowingly at him.
Another intense wave of panic rolled through me. She knows too much.
Viggo responded with a broad, toothy grin and an overly-dramatic bow. “And who might you be, my beautiful creature?” I noticed his fingertips drum lightly against his thigh, the only indication of his tension—one he usually acknowledged and ceased within seconds. This time, though, those long, manicured fingers kept drumming.
The vampiress’s upper lip twitched slightly but otherwise her face remained serene, unreadable. “Mage.”
Evangeline never mentioned a Mage . . . Who was she?
“Well, Mage. Welcome to our fabulous planet.” Viggo thrust his arms out dramatically. “Full of living, bleeding humans! We’re so happy you’ve finally made it.”