I revved the truck engine and threw it into gear again. It jerked forward. The decoy man stepped in front of the truck to stop me. He disappeared under my truck as I drove over him, the back tires jolting over his body. I peeled out of the alley, speeding up as I passed various pedestrians running toward the commotion, some eyeing my truck suspiciously and a few of them jotting down the license plate number. I had no time to stop and do damage control. Looking in my rearview mirror at the fiery, body-peppered scene I had just left, I knew I needed a new blood supplier.
Not until the heavy iron door slammed against the ground behind me and I coasted into the atrium was I able to relax. I watched forty pairs of bloodthirsty eyes immediately lock onto the truck, the scent of this much human blood sending their senses into overdrive. The moment that back door rolled up, they’d turn into wild, blood-crazed demons.
“Take it easy. It won’t come as easily next time,” I called in warning as I hopped out the driver’s side, on my way to Mortimer. Their ocular veins began pulsating in response.
My expression must have been grim because panic flitted across Mortimer’s face. “It’s safe to say they’re onto us,” I said dryly, scanning the crowd—for Mage, I realized. I had an overpowering urge to talk to her. She was the only one who could appreciate the coming disaster.
Mortimer’s jaw tightened. “We managed to hide from them for a hundred and twenty years and yet now, at the most critical time, they decide they’re going to have their little revolution.”
“I’m beginning to think they’ve had some help,” I replied, intent on explaining the link to the witches, but Mortimer’s plea interrupted me.
“Please, Sofie. Just bring Evangeline back so we can be done with this and move on. We can lose the Sentinel.”
I set my jaw stubbornly. “You know I can’t do that.”
“You’d risk everything for one human girl?”
I glared at him. “Yes.” I sounded insane, but I didn’t care.
“Well, that’s just brilliant.” He slammed his fist on the bistro table so hard that the metal legs snapped like twigs.
A shrill scream disrupted his tantrum. I turned to see a petite, mousy blonde girl of no more than fourteen step out from behind the truck. The body of a male Ratheus vampire lay on the ground beside her, chin smeared with blood, jerking in convulsions before it stopped and lay still. Dead.
“What the—” I began, but then I looked at her neck, where blood ran from two puncture wounds. The other Ratheus vampires hissed at the young woman but slinked away, their comrade’s body keeping them at bay.
“Ileana!” Viggo exclaimed, rushing over to her, his arms wide for an embrace. “How lovely of you to come!”
The hairs on the back of my neck rose as Viggo led the young girl, her face full of fear, away from the throng. It wasn’t until she moved away from the truck and the overpowering scent of blood that the wave of recognition hit me.
Magic.
She was a witch.
“How did—” I began, then cut myself short as I answered my own question, eyeing the garage door. Of course! She had hitched a ride on the back of the truck while I waited for the garage to open, and I was too frazzled after the attack to notice. That was why Viggo seemed so concerned with when I’d be back—he was planning her entry. “Are you insane?” I shrieked. “Plotting with another witch? Because the first time didn’t teach you enough, you moron,” I grated through clenched teeth, my hand flying up to my forehead. “You’re inviting the Sentinel in!”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Mage’s eyes—not transformed by blood lust, surprisingly—narrow as she studied the girl. Good. She wasn’t impressed either.
“Oh, that’s preposterous.” Viggo dismissed my concerns with a wave of his hand. “That mess with Ursula was a fluke.”
The frown on Mortimer’s face told me he wasn’t a part of this plan. He leaned in close to Viggo, whispering, “We didn’t discuss this.”
“I don’t need your permission,” Viggo responded arrogantly.
The two of them turned to face off.
“But this . . . after the fiasco with Ursula and that one—” Mortimer jerked his chin in my direction “—I thought we were washing our hands of these treacherous creatures.”
“Oh, I know.” Viggo patted the air soothingly. “However, Ileana is more than willing to remain quiet. For the sake of her dear mother, right?” He looked at the woman. Pain flashed in her cornflower-blue eyes.
Of course. I exhaled in disgust. Viggo had hired thugs everywhere. This was obviously a well thought-out contingency plan on his part. The young woman’s mother was likely chained up in a basement somewhere with a bunch of sweaty, hairy men eyeballing her, appalling intentions running through their illiterate brains.