Wanted (The Un #2)

10. Alena

TEN

ALENA

He can’t be real, my mind screams in horror.

The icy fingers dig harder into my arms, nearly touching bone, but the Prophet’s eerie voice is strangely sympathetic as he says, “Oh, I’m very real, my child. And your immortal soul is in grave danger.”

My entire being jerks in shock at the knowledge that the Prophet just read my thoughts, like Raphael.

Has he always been able to do so? Has he always known what’s been truly in my heart?

“Release her!” Raphael roars in fury, his voice sounding faraway.

I shake my head and blink my eyes until my vision returns. The first thing I see is black fabric. The same plain black fabric the Prophet wore the last time I saw him.

Unwilling to look up, to literally face my biggest fear, I twist my neck instead and glance behind to see Raphael several meters in the distance.

The strange thing, however, is that every time I blink my eyes he seems farther away.

Like we’re moving somehow…

But the landscape never changes. There’s no stretching between us my naked eyes can see.

Raphael appears to be running, but he’s only moving backwards.

And it sends more chills down my spine.

As fast as I’ve seen vampires move over the last few hours, he should easily reach us.

Raphael roars again, but this time it’s in desperation. “Alena! Run! ”

My legs and feet suddenly tingle with the desire to comply, but I’m trapped in the Prophet’s frosty clutches.

“Now there will be no more of that,” the Prophet growls in irritation. “You don’t belong here! This is my domain!”

As if a great gust of wind knocked into him, Raphael is swept off his feet and sent flying backwards. He’s sent so fast and so far, he becomes merely a black dot in the distant horizon before blinking out of existence.

Turning my attention back to the Prophet, I throw my head back and stare up at the darkness where his face should be inside his hood.

Paralyzed by fear and shock, all I can do is stare.

Stare and hope somehow I wake up.

But what if I’m not dreaming?

What if somehow, someway, this is reality and everything else has been a dream?

“Again, fear not, my child,” the Prophet says. “You are safe here with me.”

But where is here ? I want to scream.

Unfortunately, my lips and throat refuse to do my bidding.

My mind is cracking…

Shattering.

Breaking.

A person can only take so much. Especially when their entire perception of existence is thrown into chaos.

And to make it even worse, I feel the ground beneath my feet changing. Shifting from mud to something solid and hard.

The icy grip on my arms relaxes, becoming not as tight and painful, but remains firm and unyielding.

I continue to stare into the Prophet’s hood, mind shredding to pieces, until a voice finally breaks the silence.

“You found her, Your Holiness,” Jeffrey chokes out in disbelief.

My head whips toward him on its own volition. My eyes needing to confirm he is truly here, too.

Here, in that awful room in Boston, standing beside the Prophet’s throne…

“Yes, Jeffrey, I’ve found her,” the Prophet responds with a harsh bite.

I shiver involuntarily, feeling that bite nipping at my soul.

Jeffrey seems to shrink in on himself and drops his head to stare at the floor. “I’m sorry for failing you, Your Holiness.”

“This failure is not your fault,” the Prophet growls. “Be at ease.”

Releasing one of my arms, the Prophet tugs me along with him as he glides toward his throne.

I don’t resist. I don’t try to fight him. Knowing it would be completely fruitless. If he can blast Raphael out of this existence, what hope do I have of escaping?

Instead, my eyes dart frantically around the area, confirming it’s the room where he had me stripped naked and kneeling before him.

But the room has changed. The throne, bookshelves, and drapes are still here, yet nothing is dusty or falling apart. Everything is in pristine condition. Even the floor gleams as if it was scrubbed and polished recently.

The Prophet takes his seat on his throne, and instead of forcing me to kneel before him, he pulls me down until I’m sitting in his lap.

My entire being wants to jump out of my skin. To be anywhere than where I am. There’s just something about his body pressing against mine, about the aura and power radiating off him, that makes me want to run, screaming in terror.

His hand lifts, his bone-white fingers lightly caressing my cheek, and it takes all of my willpower to keep from flinching away.

“My dear, beloved, child, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” he croons with a musical lilt to his voice.

Out of everything that has happened so far, the way he croons, his voice saturated with affection, is the most terrifying thing I’ve experienced.

Even more terrifying than being trapped in a room full of vampires who could rip my throat out in less than a millisecond.

His fingers close around my chin, holding my face in place and forcing me to stare into the black abyss inside his hood. “Where have you been?”

I know I should answer him if I don’t want to experience pain or punishment, but I don’t know what to tell him. Does he want to know I’ve been with Raphael and his friends? Or what happened before that?

“I want to know all of it,” he says.

I involuntarily shudder, hating that he read my mind again. I have nothing. I own nothing. Not even my own thoughts.

Nothing is sacred.

“Would this make it easier?” he asks, before his visage transforms in front of my eyes.

The dark abyss inside his hood melts away, reminding me of Raphael coming out of his shadow form, and a face appears.

A face so beautiful it hurts my eyes.

Where Raphael looks like the Devil, the Prophet looks like an angel sent down from the heavens.

His hair flows around his face and over his shoulders. Long, blond, and gleaming as if every strand was painstakingly crafted from gold. The shape and bone structure of his face is somehow both strong and delicate at the same time. His cheekbones and chin are bold and sharp, but his eyes and lips are big and soft.

Shimmering sky-blue eyes peer at me, full of unwanted affection and tenderness.

Staring at his new appearance, I get the impression I’m gazing upon something holy and sacred that few get to witness.

I should feel honored, and I’m pretty sure that’s what he expects me to feel.

But I don’t.

In another life, I might find him the most alluring man I’ve ever seen. So alluring, I may have done anything just to be close to him.

To worship him like all the others in the Order have…

Yet I still believe with all my heart for some unfathomable reason that Raphael, with his dark, devilish look, is more handsome.

The Prophet’s fingers suddenly dig harder into my chin, causing me to cry out in pain.

Something moves in the corner of my eye and Jeffrey says, “Your Holiness…” as if he’s worried about me.

Immediately the Prophet’s fingers relax their grip, but his voice is a harsh growl as he tells Jeffrey to, “Stay back.”

Blinking away tears, I try to look at Jeffrey, but the Prophet jerks my face closer to keep all my attention locked on him.

“Perhaps you will enjoy this visage more?” he growls.

His face transforms again in front of my eyes. Morphing from one of divine beauty to one plucked from a nightmare.

Long hair made of gleaming gold darkens until every strand now appears to be made from spilled ink. The entire bone-structure of his face changes, thinning and becoming sharper. His chin ending almost in a perfect point. His skin both dulls and pales until it’s a flat bone white.

But the most disturbing part of his new face is his eyes. Pupils expanding, they swallow up his irises and eat every last bit of white. Leaving behind what appears to be two holes that lead directly into oblivion.

Then the markings begin to appear. Red markings that stain his skin just like the figure eight between my breasts.

Gaping at him in horror, I can’t tell what any of the markings mean. They’re unlike anything I’ve ever seen.

There are sharp, straight lines cutting like slashes down his cheeks and swirling lines that resemble vines hanging from the bottom of his mouth, trailing down to his chin. In the middle of his forehead is a circle, but it’s not the symbol of the Order. Not with all the tiny, strange markings inside it. Markings that don’t resemble a cross or anything remotely holy.

Spreading his black lips, he grins at me. Revealing two sets of sharp fangs. “Better?”

Shaking my head back and forth, I try to pull away, but his grip tightens, keeping me in place.

“Do not be afraid. You, of all people, should never be afraid of me,” he insists.

How could I not be?! I want to scream.

“Because you are mine ,” he hums softly, as if it’s supposed to give me comfort.

But I don’t know what he means.

How am I his? In what way? Is he simply referring to me being one of his flock? Or something else?

Ignoring all my inner turmoil and questions, he says, “I’ll only ask one more time. Where have you been?”

I couldn’t answer him if I wanted to because I honestly don’t know. Everything that happened with Father McCall after he asked me to help him is still a big blank. And I wasn’t exactly paying attention to where we were going when I was in the car with Raphael and his ‘family’.

“You’re telling the truth.” The Prophet scowls at me, but there’s no anger in his expression. Only thoughtfulness.

His gaze suddenly drops from my face and lands on my chest.

Without looking down, I can feel him staring pointedly at the place where my mark is between my breasts.

Shame prickles at my consciousness but I fight it back. Now is not the time to worry about my modesty, especially if I want to get out of this alive.

Lifting his other hand, the Prophet extends his finger and presses against my mark. Softly tracing the shape of it. “A pity we weren’t successful in suppressing this.”

I suck in a sharp breath.

“It would have been our biggest accomplishment yet.” He sighs. Then the black holes that should be eyes flick back up to mine. “I had great hopes for you.”

Had?

Does that make me useless now that I’m a failed experiment?

“Ah, child, if you only knew how valuable you truly are,” he says wistfully as his finger continues to trace the mark, branding it into my skin.

I scoff at that. Then bite my tongue to keep myself from saying something that will probably get me killed.

If I’m so valuable, why did he make my life utterly miserable by locking me up beneath the church?

The Prophet grins at me, and I immediately realize my mistake.

Damn it, I did it again. If only I could bite off my stupid thoughts…

His thumb strokes tenderly against my chin and my stomach twists. “Because that’s exactly where you keep beautiful and valuable treasures.”

Beautiful ? Is he saying he thinks I’m beautiful?

The outlines of the Prophet’s black eyes smolder an orangish-red, resembling the edges of burning paper, as he answers, “You are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever beheld. I always knew you would be… even when you were a mere girl.”

I freeze, doing everything I can to keep from reacting to that statement. Not even allowing my brain to form whatever thought it wants to form about it.

“Who do you think sang to you to give you comfort on the day of your Judging?” he purrs, the smoldering parts of his eyes glowing brighter.

He was the one who sang the hymn? And he sang it for me?

I don’t believe it…

His fingers begin to dig painfully into my chin. “I recognized your presence immediately and held you in my arms to ease your fears. I know you felt me.”

I gasp in a mixture of pain and horror.

Jeffrey makes a strangled sound, as if he too is disturbed by what he’s hearing.

The Prophet’s head jerks to the side, and he pulls me closer to his chest as he snarls, “Did I not tell you to stay back?”

Jeffrey tries to say something else, but is instantly cut off. “But Your—”

“Enough!” the Prophet declares sharply. “I will not tolerate another act of disrespectful insubordination! Get on your knees and perform thirty lashes of repentance.”

Shocked that Jeffrey, the golden boy of the Order who always lorded his power and status over me, is being reprimanded for his actions, I dare to look at him to see his reaction.

Jeffrey’s head lowers and he falls down to his knees as if in defeat. Letting all his body weight drop down to the hardwood floor without a care for the pain it will cause.

I find myself wincing in sympathy out of reflex. Even after everything he’s done to me.

The Prophet’s hand suddenly strokes the top of my head, and I almost jump out of his lap in surprise.

“He was warned more than once,” the Prophet says in a gentle tone like he’s trying to reassure me. Then he gives a dismissive flick of his hand. Causing a whip to appear out of thin air in front of Jeffrey. “Begin.”

Head remaining bowed, Jeffrey doesn’t look up as he reaches out and grabs the whip.

With another flick of the Prophet’s hand, Jeffrey’s shirt turns to black ash and scatters around him.

When Jeffrey grips the handle of the whip tightly and lifts it in the air, I immediately turn away.

I convince myself it’s because I’m unable to stomach the sight of him hurting himself when the first crack breaks the silence. But then the sweetest scent I’ve ever smelled perfumes the air, causing my mouth to fill with saliva…

“Since the day you went missing, he’s been denied his sacrament,” the Prophet explains like it’s supposed to make sense to me.

“How long have I been gone?” I ask while avoiding looking at either of them.

Another crack resonates in the air as the Prophet uses his grip on my chin to force me to meet his gaze again. “Do you truly not know?”

Unable to avoid looking him in the eyes, I answer honestly, “No. I have absolutely no idea. To me, it only feels like a day or so.”

The Prophet stares at me for a long time, as if he’s searching my brain to be sure I’m not lying.

With all my thoughts open to him, even if I wanted to deceive him, I couldn’t.

“Only a day or so?” he presses. “Are you sure?”

Wanting the answer more than anything, I tune out the cracks that are coming faster now and furrow my brow. Trying to remember what happened after Father McCall asked me to help him.

But it’s as if that entire piece of my memory has been stolen from me.

The Prophet releases a heavy sigh that instantly makes me feel uneasy. “I’m afraid we’ll have to do this the hard way, after all. Forgive me.”

Wait… what? The Prophet is apologizing to me ? Am I hallucinating?

I frown at him in confusion. “Do what the hard—”

Before I can finish my question, he presses his fingers against my temples and sends what feels like the equivalent of a thousand volts of electricity into my head.

The pain is so immediate and intense, I don’t have a chance to let out a scream.

And unlike the last time he did such a thing, I don’t pass out. I remain conscious and aware of every single second.

All my senses try to shut down to block out the torment. Everything in front of my eyes turns black, sound disappears, and I can’t feel what my body is doing.

But there’s no turning off the agony.

The wall I so carefully crafted over the years is blown to pieces. Unable to withstand the force blasted at it.

As the electricity from the Prophet’s fingers continues to flow into me, I swear my very cells catch on fire. Burning… sizzling…

Melting.

“ I know it hurts, child, but you must remain strong ,” the Prophet sings, his voice somehow reaching me over the misery. “ We all have our burdens to bear, unfortunately, and this is yours .”

If I had the strength to curse him out I would. Curse him and his entire flock to the deepest bowels of Hell to experience what I’m experiencing.

As if he realizes my desire, the pain flares, the flow from his fingers growing stronger.

“ This is nothing compared to what you will endure if you ever reach that plane ,” he hisses menacingly.

Any other time, his words would frighten me.

But there is no room for fear.

There is only room for this wretched, unbearable pain.

An unbearable pain that is so awful, I sense something inside me starting to slip away…

“ This is not a time to be weak! ” the Prophet says quickly, like he’s suddenly worried. “ I’ve made you strong enough to get through this. ”

Every fiber of my being revolts against his attempt at encouragement, wanting to escape.

But then he commands, “ Remember! ”

Father McCall puts the car in park and turns off the headlights. He stares out the windshield for a couple of minutes before finally looking over at me. “If I’m not back in an hour, I want you to catch the next bus to somewhere up north.”

“Can’t I go with you?” I ask, my heart racing at the prospect of attempting such a thing.

Shaking his head, Father McCall says, “No, it’s too dangerous.”

I scoff. After living underground since I was a young child, trying to navigate this world all on my own seems more dangerous to me.

But maybe he’s so confidant in his plan he knows it won’t come to that?

Lifting his butt up, off the seat, he pulls out his wallet and thrusts a card at me. “This city is practically owned by the Order. Word of what I’ve done may have already reached the local hunters. I can’t risk you getting captured.”

I look down at the card then back up to his face. “And what if you get caught? Or she doesn’t want to leave?”

Father McCall takes a deep breath, as if to steel himself, then pushes the card into my hands. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

I try to push the card back. “I’m willing to take that risk, too.”

“No,” he says sternly.

Raising his voice at me for the first time.

I shrink back in my seat, wondering for the umpteenth time if trusting him was a mistake. Everyone I’ve ever trusted has hurt or betrayed me in some way…

His firm expression withering at the look on my face, Father McCall sighs deeply. “I’m sorry, lass, for raising my voice at you. I’m just a wee bit on edge right now and we’re running out of time.”

Reaching up, he lifts his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. “I’ve already put you at risk by bringing you to this city. And the longer we sit here, arguing about this, the more likely we’ll both be caught.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to say let’s just drive away, but I know in my heart that would be the wrong thing to suggest. Not to mention completely selfish. He’s hellbent on saving this other marked woman, and I’m lucky he’s put all his plans in jeopardy by helping me.

So, I nod instead. “It’s okay, I understand.”

“You do?” he asks, surprised.

I nod again.

Smiling now, he reaches over and pats my thigh in an affectionate, grandfatherly way. “Good.”

He starts to open his door as if he’s ready to get out, but pauses and looks over at me. “Did they teach you anything about how to avoid vampires?”

Frowning at him, I shake my head. The Order didn’t teach me anything except how to scrub the floors clean.

He closes his eyes as if he’s in pain and mutters something in a language under his breath that I don’t understand.

When he opens his eyes again, he looks at me pleadingly, “If I don’t come back and you have to go into the bus station, don’t talk to anyone except for the ticket person. Avoid every man you see and keep to yourself. If someone starts to bother you, go to the ladies’ room and try to find another woman to help you.”

I wasn’t planning on talking to anyone anyway, so I smile at him reassuringly. “Okay.”

He returns my smile but his strained. “Hopefully it won’t come to that… But if it does, do whatever you need to do to survive.”

Those words send a strange chill through my entire body.

Glancing at the clock on the dashboard, he says firmly, “One hour and not a minute more. Promise me, lass.”

“I promise,” I say out loud, but deep down inside I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep it.

I’d rather sit in this car for days than do what he’s asking of me.

He better come back.

He has to come back.

Because I don’t know what the heck I’ll do if he doesn’t.

I don’t know how to survive on my own with nothing to my name.

Finally pushing his door all the way open, Father McCall gets out and says, “Lock the doors behind me.”

As soon as his door shuts, I hit the button. My fear at being left alone already becoming nearly paralyzing.

Father McCall gives me one last smile through the window, attempting to reassure me, then he shoves his hands into his pockets and starts walking down the street.

I glance at the dashboard and note the time—it’s a quarter to five. Usually at this time, I’d be exhausted and in my cell. Praying and getting ready to go to sleep.

When I glance back up and peer through the windshield, he’s already gone. Most likely disappearing around the corner.

Flipping the card he left for me back and forth between my fingers, I squirm uneasily in my seat as the minutes pass by.

Night has begun to fall, casting its shadow on this unfamiliar city. While a few businesses have their signs lit up, most of them are closing, and I note the sidewalks are emptying.

I have no idea what part of town we’re in, but it looks like we could be downtown somewhere.

Only a few people pass by the car, paying me no attention. Their heads are usually down and they walk quickly, as if they have somewhere important to be.

I know it’s not safe to be outside at night as a human from when I was younger. Not that I ever had a chance to do such a thing.

While Boston’s main strips and streets are mostly safe because they’re patrolled by the Order’s hunters, there’s always the risk of running into a vampire that’s hungry enough to take the chance of scoring a meal.

Glancing occasionally at the bus station entrance to my right, I see the inside lit up bright and several people from all walks of life hanging about. Most seem to be waiting with backpacks slung over their shoulders or luggage resting at their feet.

I assume that the few I see with nothing in their hands or at their feet are simply waiting for someone to arrive.

Why the bus station is even operating this late mystifies me. But Father McCall did say this city is practically owned by the Order. Maybe it’s safer than other cities?

And if that’s the case, I should probably be more worried about running into a hunter than a vampire that might eat me.

The thought of Jeffrey somehow catching up to me momentarily chills the blood in my veins. We only stopped once on our way here that I know of.

We stopped at a small shopping center to buy me a few sets of new clothes. Nothing fancy. Just some simple shirts and pants to help me blend in better. I have everything I’m not wearing stuffed into a backpack in the backseat.

But what if that one stop was enough to give the hunters in Boston enough time to reach us before we can leave?

The sky grows darker and darker and the moon replaces the sun.

Looking at the dashboard, I see there’s only ten minutes remaining.

“Come on, where are you?” I say impatiently and drum my fingers against the glovebox.

Narrowing my eyes and staring through the windshield, I will for Father McCall to appear.

Telling myself he should be here any second now.

But the ten minutes fly by and he doesn’t return.

My anxiety reaching its peak, I keep telling myself just one more minute…

As an entire new hour passes.

“Dammit!” I curse and slam my hands against the glovebox in frustration before covering my face.

What am I supposed to do? I know I promised, but I’m utterly terrified.

It’s completely dark outside now. The sidewalks are empty and there could vampires or hunters lurking anywhere.

Spreading my fingers, I peek at the bus station and see there are only a few people lingering in the lobby. Mostly men.

Great.

I’m totally doomed.

Maybe I should stick to my original plan and sleep in the car until morning , I think to myself.

But then I see someone crossing the street up ahead of me. A man with a wide, muscular build and tattoos on his arms. Tattoos I know he got from the Order.

Ducking down, I hold my breath for a couple of minutes, listening to the sound of his heavy footsteps. I don’t dare lift my head until I hear his footsteps echoing in the distance.

I can’t stay here. I can’t.

I can’t risk a hunter or vampire peeking inside the car. Wondering why it’s still running without its headlights on.

Sure, I could turn the car off but I’ll still be a sitting duck.

I have no choice but to keep my promise.

Resigning myself to my fate, I reach into the backseat and grab the strap of my backpack.

Unsure which terrifies me more, getting caught by someone from the Order or a vampire, I quickly unlock the door and get out of the car.

Slamming the door behind me in my haste, I wince, then hurry into the bus station.

The lights in the lobby still shining wicked bright, I squint my eyes and put my head down. Avoiding looking at anyone as I walk to the ticket counter.

Seated behind a pane of plexiglass, a man with glasses works on a crossword puzzle in the local newspaper.

Without looking up at me, he says in a nasally voice, “The last bus for the night left forty-five minutes ago.”

“What?” I gasp in shock.

The man’s eyes flick up to me and widen in surprise a second before they narrow in suspicion. “What did you expect? Everyone knows it’s too dangerous to run the buses this late.”

“But I need to get out of the city now!” I nearly shout at him.

“Why?” he asks, his nasally voice thickening with his suspicion. “You a runaway or something?”

Hitting too close to the truth for comfort, I sharply shake my head. “No.”

Scowling, he asks, “Then why do you need to leave now?”

Shifting uncomfortably on my feet, I say impatiently, “That’s none of your business.”

Rolling his eyes, he says, “Forget it. The next busses leave at dawn. Do you want on one of them or not?”

“Dawn?!” I repeat incredulously.

That would mean I’d be stuck inside this bus station all night…

The attendant nods his head up and down slowly and repeats like he thinks I’m stupid. “Yes. Dawn.”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I take a deep breath and try to get a grip on my chaotic emotions.

Only to pop my eyes open when I hear a new, sly male voice ask, “Is there a problem here…” The blond man now standing right beside me smiles and pointedly looks at the attendant’s name tag. “Milton?”

“N-no, sir,” the attendant stammers out.

Frowning, I look at the newcomer. Wondering why he’s getting involved.

Dressed in a dark, well-tailored suit that instantly brings up memories of my father, the man beside me says, “Good. Then what’s the issue?”

“S-she w-wants to leave n-now,” the attendant answers.

Turning his attention away from the attendant, the newcomer finally looks at me, hitting me with the full force of his blue eyes. “ You want to leave now ?”

Remembering how my father was able to throw his money around to make things happen, I know men dressed like him tend to have power others don’t.

So I nod my head and answer, “Yes,” hoping he might be able to help me get on a bus somehow.

But then he runs his blue eyes up and down me in an appraisal that makes me uncomfortable. “ Why? ”

Shifting nervously from foot to foot, I grip the strap of my backpack tighter. “I just do.”

He stills in a way that causes alarm bells to ring in my head.

I take a step back and look toward the lobby doors. Considering how long it will take me to reach the car.

As if he can read exactly what’s on my mind, the man in the suit suddenly grabs me by the arm and asks, “ Where did you come from ? ”

I immediately try to yank my arm back, but his grip is unbreakable.

He grins at me as if he’s pleased by my reaction. Then I’m suddenly surrounded by three other men. Three other men in suits.

The attendant jumps up from his stool and stumbles away from the plexiglass as one of the new men asks, “What do we have here, Sire?”

“I might be mistaken,” the man gripping my arms says, his grin stretching wider and showing the tips of his fangs. “But I believe we’ve finally found a soulmarked.”

“This is taking too long,” the Prophet sighs, giving me a brief reprieve from the electrical torture.

Before I can open my mouth to tell him something snarky, I’m jolting from the shock of the next blast of pain and thrown back into the past.

My memories of what happened that night rush past my eyes as if someone pushed fast-forward on my brain.

I struggle like a feral animal needing to be free against the group of vampires as they drag me out into the street and try to force me into a black car.

When my mouth fills with saliva and I bite the arm of one of the vampires holding me, their leader finally loses his patience with me.

“Enzo, do you have any of that shit your little toy loves on you?” the blond man everyone is calling sire asks irritably.

“Yes, Sire,” the man I just bit says.

The leader nods his head at me. “Give it to her. Maybe it will calm her down.”

“Can’t you just compel her to do what you want, Sire?” the vampire at my other side inquires as if he’s mystified by this entire situation.

The blond leader’s arm moves so fast it’s simply a blur in front of my eyes as he smacks the vampire that asked the question across the back of the head. “No, you idiot. The Marked can’t be compelled. Hence, we need to use other means.”

Shocked and terrified by how fast the leader moved, I forget for a heartbeat that I need to keep fighting if I want to escape.

Then I feel a sharp jab in my arm, quickly followed by a warm wave of euphoria washing over me. My knees become weak and my entire body relaxes with the sweetest sensation of calmness and peace.

Two things I haven’t felt in years and years...

The vampires gripping me have to hold me up now to keep me from falling on my face.

“Excellent,” I hear the leader say.

Then the rest fades away.

When consciousness next returns to me, I’m sitting in the leader’s lap in the back of a car with his arms wrapped tightly around me.

“She may be marked but there’s something… unpleasant about her that I can’t quite put my finger on,” he says to someone.

My thoughts slow and sluggish, it takes me a few moments to struggle against his nearly crushing embrace.

“Shit,” he curses more out of vexation than worry. “That crap you gave her, Enzo, already wore off.”

“No way…” Enzo says from somewhere close by in disbelief.

“Yes way,” the leader says in a snide, mocking tone. “Give her another dose.”

When throwing my weight against his arms does nothing, I turn my head and snap my teeth at the leader’s face.

He snarls viciously at me.

I recoil in fear for only a few seconds then begin to struggle again. Acting purely on my baser instincts.

“This is the last I have on me, Sire,” Enzo says with a touch of worry.

“Wonderful,” the leader grumbles before I feel the sharp jab in my arm.

Bliss washes over me, but this time I don’t lose consciousness. Slumping in the leader’s arms, my head falls back and I continue to peer at him with a glassy gaze.

“What the fuck, Enzo?” he says angrily, his blue eyes blazing. “Was that the same dose as the first one?”

“Y-yes, S-sire,” Enzo stammers, clearly nervous and possibly afraid.

I’m so unnaturally calm, I start giggling. Enzo sounds just like the scared attendant in the station.

The leader’s attention snaps back to me and he looks at me curiously. “Well, it’s not working.”

“Perhaps she already has a tolerance for it, Sire?” Enzo suggests.

I giggle again, finding the way he talks utterly hilarious.

“Perhaps,” the leader repeats thoughtfully.

He stares hard into my eyes, and I begin to fall into his piercing gaze. The blue reminding me of an ocean I want to dive in.

Blond head tilting to the side, the leader says, “ Wrap your arms around me. ”

I wrap my arms around him, my body moving automatically to obey.

“Oh, very interesting.” The leader grins widely, showing his fangs.

Another giggle spills from my lips. For some reason, the way he grins with his fangs reminds me of a cat.

He’s the Cheshire Cat grinning at me! I think to myself.

“ Now go to sleep ,” he orders.

My memories begin to speed forward again. So fast I only catch a glimpse here and there.

I wake up on my back, finding all my limbs restrained. A few vampires surround me, and the blond leader explains to someone what he learned about me.

That he found my mark between my breasts. And that drugging me gave him the ability to compel and control me.

I’m jabbed again and again, and ordered to sleep or be calm over a period of time I can’t keep track of.

The only time the memories slow down is when someone suggests, “You should try compelling away some of her memories, Nikolaos. We don’t want her bonded getting angry with us for tasting her shitty blood.”

The memories speed up again, moving at light speed. Then screech to a halt when I wake up in Raphael’s arms as he rushes us away from a building filled with the sound of fighting and screams.

The Prophet forces me to relive everything that happened after that point.

Sometimes he even rewinds my memories, especially when they involve Chloe.

When the Prophet finally releases me from the memories, I gasp for air as if I’ve been drowning.

“Oh, my poor, poor, child,” the Prophet hums and strokes my hair tenderly. “You’ve been through so much since you were taken from me.”

Shuddering, I squeeze my eyes shut. The dim candlelight hurting them. My head throbs and aches with a terrible migraine.

A loud crack resonates off the walls and I flinch. The sound slicing right through my brain.

“Do you have any idea how much danger you were in?” the Prophet asks softly. But even with my splitting migraine, I recognize the underlying edge to his question. “You could have met the same fate as Father McCall. You could have been taken from me permanently .”

Another loud crack sounds out and I fight against the urge to bury my face in the Prophet’s shoulder just to relieve some of the pain.

After all, he’s the one that inflicted it upon me…

“Jeffrey, your repentance is complete. Stand and receive your new orders,” the Prophet commands as he continues to pet me.

“Yes, your holiness,” Jeffrey answers, tired and strained.

Eyes still squeezed shut, I hear Jeffrey grunt and groan as he gets to his feet.

“What will you have of this loyal servant, Your Holiness?” he asks without an ounce of irony in his voice.

“You and your holy brothers will destroy the vampires that have taken Alena from us,” the Prophet instructs with a mixture of anger and authority.

Dread rolls over me and I open my eyes to look at the Prophet. What did he learn from my memories? What information did I give him?

He doesn’t look back at me. Just continues to stroke and pet my head as he glares at Jeffrey.

“It will be done, Your Holiness,” Jeffrey responds obediently.

The Prophet smiles, showing his fangs, but the way he does it is the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen. “You will also bring Mother Alena’s body to me, unharmed. Not a hair on her precious head is to be misplaced. Do you understand? I want her alive and breathing.”

All the air in my lungs rushes out of me as if I was just punched in the gut. Mother Alena? Since when have I ever been a Mother ?

What does he plan to do with me?

I glance over at Jeffrey to see his reaction.

Standing tall with his shoulders thrown back, Jeffrey’s bare, muscular chest rises and falls heavily as blood streams down his body and drips from the whip still clutched in his hand.

Nostrils flaring as he meets my gaze, his eyes burn with undisguised hatred. Blaming me for everything. “Yes, Your Holiness, I understand. It will be done.”

The Prophet says, “Good,” but doesn’t sound the least bit pleased.

A moment later, the Prophet’s hand appears in front of me, and he gives a dismissive flick of his wrist. “In His name.”

Jeffrey bows his head, breaking eye contact with me, and says, “In His name.”

Then he disappears into thin air.

The gleaming puddle of blood where he knelt and stood the only thing left behind.

The Prophet’s fingers wrap around my chin and turn my full attention back to his face.

His creepy grin back in place and his black eyes smoldering at the edges with pleasure, he asks, “Now, my beautiful, precious child, what shall we do while we wait for him to bring you to me?”