you breaking into the castle,” I say finally. “The vampires—”
“No, Ronan. Listen. I did it. I snuck inside the keep.”
My insides seize the moment the words come out of her mouth. Slowly, I meet her gaze. “What did you say?”
My expression must be dangerous because she recoils slightly. “It’s okay,” she says quickly. “I’m fine. It’s just…I did it. I snuck inside the keep.”
“How?” How could she have done such a thing and survived? Many girls went into that castle—and until now, none have come back out.
“I broke in.” She waves it away, her expression urgent, desperate with some other news. “That’s not the point. The point is, I think Emma is alive.”
I grow still, uncertain I’ve heard correctly. Emma was her best friend, and Annelise still blames herself for her death. “Did you see her?”
She shakes her head. “No, but—”
I interrupt at once. Hope is a dangerous thing on this island, cutting more deeply than any esoteric sword. I should know. “Emma is dead, Annelise.”
“No,” she says firmly, “just listen. That’s what I needed to tell you. I think she might be alive. There were other Acari there. They were drugged—at least, I think they were. They were shuffling around, all dead eyed, like Stepford girls or something. And Frost—oh God—my roommate Frost was there, too. On a table , Ronan. Laid out on a table. It was so creepy. She looked willing, as though it was some great honor. And then a woman came in—a woman , Ronan—a vampire woman. She took out this knife, and she… The boys they…” Her face cracks then, her knees beginning to fold beneath her.
I reach out and wrap one arm around her, then the other. Before I know it, I’ve tucked her close. She nestles perfectly into place. I shush her, murmuring, “It’s okay. I can imagine what they did. You don’t have to tell me.”
She pushes away. “No, Ronan. You can’t imagine. It’s horrific. There’s this ritual…where they…they…”
She’s shivering now, and I rub my hands along her arms. “Breathe, Ann. Remember our tactical breathing,” I coax, knowing the comment might interrupt her spiral. Tactical breathing: inhaling, holding, exhaling on a four count. She’d given me such grief about the absurd term, but it didn’t matter—tactical breathing was made for situations like this.
But apparently whatever the vampires did to Frost was too gruesome to recount, because once she gathers herself, she takes a different tack. “They have all the dead Acari’s weapons hanging on the walls,” she begins evenly. “But Frost was still alive, at least she was at first, and her weapon, that ridiculous ax, was lying on a table. And they had Emma’s Buck knife on the table, too. As though she was next or something. As though she’s still alive.”
She gives me a pleading look. I know that look. Every alarm in my head shrills to life.
“I have to save her,” she says. “Don’t you see? Emma is alive. She has to be.”
“Promise you won’t do anything without me.” What if I die trying to assassinate Dagursson, and she goes back into that keep alone to save her friend? My hands tighten around her arms. “Promise you won’t go it alone.”
“Who would help me? Who could I even trust? I mean, yeah, there’s you, and Carden—”
“Don’t tell him what you just told me,” I snap. Carden claims he loves her—and God help me, I believe him—but I also believe he loves his crusade at least as much. I fear the day will come when he places his own objectives before anything—or anyone—else. “Don’t confide in Carden. Not yet.”
“He’s not one of them,” she says instantly. “I know that.”
“But he’s a vampire. And that I know.”
Her face hardens as she processes something. “Well, then, how about the female vampire thing. Did you know that, too? You didn’t exactly flinch when I said it.”
That’s my Ann. Always knowing, always guessing.
“No, Ronan. Listen. I did it. I snuck inside the keep.”
My insides seize the moment the words come out of her mouth. Slowly, I meet her gaze. “What did you say?”
My expression must be dangerous because she recoils slightly. “It’s okay,” she says quickly. “I’m fine. It’s just…I did it. I snuck inside the keep.”
“How?” How could she have done such a thing and survived? Many girls went into that castle—and until now, none have come back out.
“I broke in.” She waves it away, her expression urgent, desperate with some other news. “That’s not the point. The point is, I think Emma is alive.”
I grow still, uncertain I’ve heard correctly. Emma was her best friend, and Annelise still blames herself for her death. “Did you see her?”
She shakes her head. “No, but—”
I interrupt at once. Hope is a dangerous thing on this island, cutting more deeply than any esoteric sword. I should know. “Emma is dead, Annelise.”
“No,” she says firmly, “just listen. That’s what I needed to tell you. I think she might be alive. There were other Acari there. They were drugged—at least, I think they were. They were shuffling around, all dead eyed, like Stepford girls or something. And Frost—oh God—my roommate Frost was there, too. On a table , Ronan. Laid out on a table. It was so creepy. She looked willing, as though it was some great honor. And then a woman came in—a woman , Ronan—a vampire woman. She took out this knife, and she… The boys they…” Her face cracks then, her knees beginning to fold beneath her.
I reach out and wrap one arm around her, then the other. Before I know it, I’ve tucked her close. She nestles perfectly into place. I shush her, murmuring, “It’s okay. I can imagine what they did. You don’t have to tell me.”
She pushes away. “No, Ronan. You can’t imagine. It’s horrific. There’s this ritual…where they…they…”
She’s shivering now, and I rub my hands along her arms. “Breathe, Ann. Remember our tactical breathing,” I coax, knowing the comment might interrupt her spiral. Tactical breathing: inhaling, holding, exhaling on a four count. She’d given me such grief about the absurd term, but it didn’t matter—tactical breathing was made for situations like this.
But apparently whatever the vampires did to Frost was too gruesome to recount, because once she gathers herself, she takes a different tack. “They have all the dead Acari’s weapons hanging on the walls,” she begins evenly. “But Frost was still alive, at least she was at first, and her weapon, that ridiculous ax, was lying on a table. And they had Emma’s Buck knife on the table, too. As though she was next or something. As though she’s still alive.”
She gives me a pleading look. I know that look. Every alarm in my head shrills to life.
“I have to save her,” she says. “Don’t you see? Emma is alive. She has to be.”
“Promise you won’t do anything without me.” What if I die trying to assassinate Dagursson, and she goes back into that keep alone to save her friend? My hands tighten around her arms. “Promise you won’t go it alone.”
“Who would help me? Who could I even trust? I mean, yeah, there’s you, and Carden—”
“Don’t tell him what you just told me,” I snap. Carden claims he loves her—and God help me, I believe him—but I also believe he loves his crusade at least as much. I fear the day will come when he places his own objectives before anything—or anyone—else. “Don’t confide in Carden. Not yet.”
“He’s not one of them,” she says instantly. “I know that.”
“But he’s a vampire. And that I know.”
Her face hardens as she processes something. “Well, then, how about the female vampire thing. Did you know that, too? You didn’t exactly flinch when I said it.”
That’s my Ann. Always knowing, always guessing.
Similar Books
