Chapter 27 Christine #3
While his friend waits out in the hall, the big shifter shoves me into an empty room with a single chair.
The dust-coated plaques on the wall hint that this room might once have been a school official’s office—maybe even the office of the principal.
Despite my anxiety for Raoul and for my own safety, I almost laugh at the irony of it.
When I was in school, I was particularly careful not to do anything that might get me in trouble.
As a vampire, I couldn’t risk any additional attention, so I stayed low and kept quiet.
I wasn’t popular or unpopular—I just floated along in the middle, being unremarkable, average. Not worth a second glance.
When I got older and boys started to notice me in spite of myself, I dressed in baggier clothes and avoided contact most days.
I interacted with them just enough to ensure that I got invited to parties where I might be able to sneak a few swallows of blood from people who were too drunk or high to notice.
Being brought here feels odd, not only because of the rush of unbidden high school memories, but because this decrepit place doesn’t fit with the bits of information I’ve gleaned about Raoul’s sister.
By all accounts, Philippa de Chagny should be operating out of a gorgeous office building with elegantly villainesque decor.
A grungy abandoned high school doesn’t seem like her thing.
But apparently it is, because a moment after I’m forced into the battered chair, a woman walks in who can’t be anyone but Philippa de Chagny.
Her sleek bob is auburn, darker than Raoul’s hair, but she has the same pale green eyes, along with the same delicate, angular jawline and crisp features. Except wherever there’s softness in Raoul’s face, there is only hardness in Philippa’s.
She wears a blouse, tailored slacks, and a pair of heels that I’m fairly sure are Louboutins.
“Let’s get right to the point,” she says. “I’m a busy woman, Christine Daaé, and you’ve made me waste entirely too much time on you as it is.”
“If you’re going to try to bribe me to stay away from Raoul, save your breath,” I tell her. “Where is he? If you hurt him, I swear—”
“Hurt him?” Her green eyes flash. “He’s my brother.
He’s family. No, Christine, you’re the one hurting him.
In his email, he wasn’t specific about why he suddenly decided to leave the family and the Collective, but I knew it had to be a lover.
I had my people ask around, and they discovered you.
You’re the girl who’s been messing with his head, with his life. ”
“All I’ve done is encourage him to be himself.”
She scoffs lightly. “You know, when I first heard your name from my sources, I thought it sounded familiar. Imagine my surprise when I discovered who your parents were.” Philippa’s merciless eyes never leave my face, like she’s reading me in spite of my silence.
“The Shifter Collective keeps tabs on all the supernaturals in Nashville. We’re rather territorial, you might say.
Any supernatural who isn’t a shifter has to register with the Collective and pay an annual tax in order to remain within our territory.
Your parents paid their dues without fail, for all three of you. ”
Yet another thing my parents did without my knowledge or input. Why am I not surprised?
“Since their deaths, you haven’t paid your dues.” Philippa takes a slim smartphone from the pocket of her pants. “It slipped our notice, but we would have discovered the issue during our next audit. As it is, you owe two years’ worth of fees to the Collective.”
“Add that to the debts I can’t pay,” I say dryly.
Her icy gaze holds mine. “And you’re hoping Raoul is your way out of a financial hole?”
“No, of course not! And I didn’t know about the tax. My parents never discussed it with me.”
I’m guessing they never talked about it because they thought I’d be under the protection of the Progeny after their death.
If anything happened to them, they thought I would leave Nashville and go to a Progeny commune, or that Progeny representatives would come to Nashville to take care of me.
Somehow, they never imagined that I’d try to do life on my own.
“Ignorance is no excuse,” says Philippa.
“So you kidnapped me because I owe you money?” I vent a disbelieving laugh.
“In part, yes,” she says coolly. “The Collective takes debts very seriously, and when someone is in default, an example must be made, or other supernaturals will begin to test our good graces. But you’re correct—the mere existence of the debt is not enough.
To dispose of you completely, I knew I would need more.
” She touches her phone a few times, then holds it out so I can see the screen.
It’s security camera footage of me in an alley, slaughtering the men who were planning to rape me.
Killing them in the most messy, violent way imaginable.
The scene is dark, but she’s had the footage enhanced, and when I leave the alley, there’s a shot of my face.
A little blurry, but it would probably hold up in court.
“The Collective hushed up these murders when they occurred,” says Philippa.
“Truthfully, we thought it was one of our own who’d gone rogue around the same time.
The two of you look rather alike. But once my people started digging to find information on you, we realized the truth. And that’s not all we found.”
She swipes through several more clips and images of me with my various victims, leaving bars or going into motels. With each successive piece of evidence, the sense of nauseating dread builds in my stomach.
This is my worst nightmare. I thought I’d been so careful.
When I glance up, Philippa is watching me with a shrewd, triumphant smile. “You’ve committed assault against at least five men that we could find—probably dozens more. You’re a danger to the people of this city. And the way you operate, you could easily expose the supernatural world to the humans.”
I want to tell her I don’t do that anymore. But I can’t risk confessing to those crimes aloud, and mentioning that I frequently drink from her brother probably isn’t the best move here.
“Most of all, you’re a danger to Raoul,” Philippa continues. “I don’t know what kind of sick hold you’ve got over him, but the Raoul I know would never reject his family. He knows his place and what’s expected of him.”
“You expect him to stay with the Collective and let himself be used,” I lash out.
“That’s why you want him—because his status as a wolf shifter cements your control of the pack.
You don’t care if he’d be happier elsewhere, away from all this political shit.
That’s so typical of supernaturals. You’re so obsessed with yourself and with power that you’re ready to sacrifice your own family to attain your goals.
” I spit, and the foam hits her left Louboutin. “I despise people like you.”
She quirks her right forefinger, and the big shifter who escorted me in kneels meekly and wipes my spit off her shoe with the cuff of his shirtsleeve.
“You won’t have to despise me long,” Philippa says. “Once you’re out of the picture, Raoul will come to his senses.”
“And how exactly are you going to take me out of the picture?”
“Use your imagination.” Her smile is a thin, malevolent line. “You said it yourself—we can’t bribe you. We could give this evidence to the human authorities, but I doubt their prisons would hold you, and the Collective doesn’t keep prisoners. So there’s only one practical solution.”
They’re going to kill me. That’s what she’s saying.
Dying at the hands of my boyfriend’s sister was definitely not on my to-do list for opening night.
“Go ahead then,” I say with a bravado I don’t feel. “Have your guy shoot me. Raoul will hate you for it.”
“Shoot you? And have you pop right back up again the second we leave? I don’t think so.
” Her smile widens. “I know all about the healing power of vampires. We’re going to make sure the job is done properly.
Another thing you may have learned about the supernatural community—we love a good ritual.
I’ve already invited the Collective to witness your death.
I like to hold these little executions from time to time to remind everyone of the importance of paying their dues and following the rules. It’s just good business.”
My mouth is dry, and though I refuse to beg for my life, I need to know what timeframe I’m working with. So far, Philippa has given no indication that she knows about Erik, which could play in my favor, if only he has enough time to locate me and Raoul.
“When?” I ask quietly. “When am I going to die?”
She glances at her phone. “In an hour or two if all goes well.” She gives the burly shifter a tight nod. “Keep the girl here until I text you. Don’t underestimate her.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replies.
Philippa meets my gaze again, her eyes like mint-green ice. “It’s been a pleasure, Christine. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to have a conversation with my little brother.”