Chapter 39
Chapter
Thirty-Nine
The warehouse looms ahead, and it’s like we’re about to walk into the same nightmare, only it’s worse this time. We pause just outside, knowing there’s no time for hesitation. We have to act, and we have to act now.
The place is in bad shape. It was completely engulfed in flames not that long ago, and only the main structure of the metal building remains. It can’t be safe to go inside, yet we cross the gravel lot without a second thought.
The administrative section of the building burned completely to the ground, leaving only the garage bays in the back. The particular section we’re heading toward holds onto memories—taunting and teasing us the closer we get.
Suddenly, the hunter who jammed the needle into my arm back at the store stumbles out from behind the shell of a burnt-out delivery truck.
His throat has been slashed—neat and clean, in a single line. Antonio and I recognize it instantly: a ritual kill. Vivian must have needed his blood. The same way Marcus Henry needed Antonio’s.
The reanimated corpse narrows in on us, but doesn’t attack.
“I think he’s their watchdog,” Antonio says, pulling his knife from his belt. “If we kill it, it’ll alert them.”
“What do you have in mind?” I ask.
“I’ll distract it.”
He steps forward, spinning the knife in his hand, visibly threatening the corpse. It moves with impressive speed for a dead guy, but Antonio is faster.
He takes off, leading it away from the warehouse.
I pause, listening for anything that might give away what’s happening inside, then move closer, ducking behind the semi for cover.
Voices echo faintly from inside the warehouse but are too distant, too distorted to make out.
The mark on my palm begins to burn. If the demon knows I’m here… it’s too late. Silently, I move around the truck, mapping the area as I go. I need a way in that keeps me out of sight and away from the jagged metal edges left behind from the fire.
One of the things the fire marshal couldn’t explain was how contained the fire had been. Because it wasn’t a normal fire. The damage stayed localized to the center of the building, not spreading the way it should have. The rest of the structure only burned because it was deliberately lit.
I move forward with practiced, careful steps, slipping silently toward a second-story window. Climbing up, I pull myself inside and land softly on the balcony that overlooks the warehouse floor below.
The door behind me is burned through. The office beyond it is destroyed—charred furniture, collapsed ceiling, debris scattered everywhere. It makes moving difficult, but it also gives me cover. It’s dark and suffocating, with the smell of smoke still clinging to everything.
I can hear Vivian and Marco below, out of sight but unmistakably there. They’re trying to call for Vaelric. I hold my hand out in front of me, testing to see if I can use magic. A small ball of energy flickers to life in my palm before I close my fingers, extinguishing it. Good.
I move forward, peering through a break in the ceiling, trying to get a visual on them.
My foot catches on something and I nearly trip.
I catch myself at the last second, looking down.
A satchel. A vial of blood rolls free, and I throw my hand out, using magic to stop it from clattering against a metal beam.
Even though I know old blood won’t work for the ritual, I don’t want the Order having mine ever again.
Glancing behind me, making sure I’m still alone, I crouch and pick up the vial. I’m about to shove it into my pocket when I see the name.
It’s not mine.
My stomach drops and I open the bag, finding more vials.
Each labeled with a different name and they’re much more recent than the vial of my blood they used.
Some are from just weeks ago. There’s a notebook inside the satchel along with the vials.
I pull it out slowly, my chest tightening as I flip it open and see names.
Dozens of them with notes scribbled beside each one.
My heart climbs into my throat as I flip back to the beginning, scanning. Experiments. Failures. Half the names are crossed out, which can only mean one thing.
They didn’t survive.
I keep flipping pages, knowing my name will be in here but still feeling like I’m going to throw up when I see it. My name, but it’s underlined three times with a star drawn beside it, indicating to look at the note written at the bottom on the page.
Most promising subject. High resilience.
I stare at it, reading it over and over again, but it doesn’t fully sink in. I wasn’t the only one the Order kidnapped and ran tests on. I’m just the only one who survived. Blinking, I look up and realize the whole room has fallen silent.
Oh, shit.
Silently putting the notebook down, I tell myself it’s now or never and I move fast before I can think twice. I emerge at the top of the stairs that lead down into the warehouse. Marco is crouched near the cracked concrete, reaching into the crevice left behind when the door was broken open.
Vivian snaps her head up and her eyes go wide when she sees me. She’s holding something—and immediately pulls it tight to her chest.
The key.
“Here a little earlier than we expected,” Marco says, pushing up onto his feet.
“Stop,” I say, holding my hands out at my sides. “You have no idea what you’re about to do.”
“Yes,” Vivian says coldly. “We do.”
“There’s no coming back from this,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “You can still stop. You can still choose to do the right thing.”
“This is the right thing,” Marco snaps. “It should have been done years ago. Things have gotten out of hand. It’s time we take the power back.”
“You’re not taking anything back,” I say, my heart pounding. I step closer, scanning them for weapons. Vivian looks unarmed. Marco has a pistol at his waist, along with knives and throwing stars strapped to his belt.
“The demon will turn on you the second you release it. It’s not going to give you power or work with you. Demons lie. You taught me that.”
“We taught you a lot,” Marco says. “And you have no idea what it was like having to include you. Pretend you weren’t worthless witch scum.”
“I don’t believe that,” I say calmly, refusing to take the bait.
“There were times you cared. Times you loved me. Times we were a family.” I take another step forward.
“We can still be that. Even without me.” I take another tentative step forward.
“You can have your family back. I can make sure everyone goes home. Just give me the key.”
“Liar,” Vivian spits, her gaze locking onto mine with pure hatred. “I can’t have my family back. They’re not all here anymore.”
“She’s not lying,” Antonio says. He steps through the burned-out opening where the garage doors once stood.
Vivian gasps, looking at Antonio with awe.
The sun is setting, and it’s getting dark in here.
Still, without the cloak of darkness, a newly turned vampire couldn’t be standing there right now.
Vivian’s grip tightens on the key. Then she looks at him. For a fleeting moment, I think this might work.
“This is for the family,” she says.
“How?” Antonio demands, shaking his head. “This isn’t for the family. This is for you.” His voice breaks. “Mom… don’t do this. I died once. You lost me. Don’t lose me again.”
Vivian’s shoulders slump and her lips part. Her fingers go a little slack around the key and she looks at Marco. My heart jumps. She’s not going to do it! She can’t. She won’t…she wouldn’t risk Antonio again.
Then Marco gives her a small nod and my breath catches in my chest. Is it over? Are we getting the key? We can still fix this. I have enough days left before the contract is up. We can come up with something to stop the demon and free my soul.
There’s still time.
But then Vivian extends her hand, tearing her eyes away from Antonio. Marco steps to her and pulls the vial of my blood from his pocket. He uncaps it and pours it onto the sigil.