Chapter 11
DARCIE
Birdsong flutters against my eardrums in musical trills, the small bright sounds rousing me from a blissfully unconscious state even though I’m standing upright.
Sunlight pricks against my eyelids. I lift a hand to shade my eyes, and sheer fabric whispers across my forearm.
I open my eyes and stare.
Pale, unfamiliar material billows around my arm, connecting to satin at my shoulder. Smooth fabric hugs my torso, extending past my hips to skim mid-thighs. It’s a robe of some kind.
Where am I?
I stand on cobblestone, but the scenery around me is distorted. Blurred. The world is quiet, aside from the sounds of nature that interrupt the stillness.
Is this a dream? Or…
I gulp. Is this a vision?
There’s only one way to tell.
My slippered feet ghost over cobblestone and then grass. A tug hums low in my chest, a fishhook tied to an invisible string. I follow it.
Two shapes wait on a stone terrace in the distance. I drift closer, feet making no sound.
Recognition lands like a punch and roots me where I stand.
Des sits in a white-washed chair on the patio, his gaze thrown far past the horizon, like he’s trying to see all the way to the sea.
Sprawled at his feet is Argos, looking just as distant and forlorn as his master. His massive head rests on the ground, unmoving as his eyes trail up to Des. When the Immortal doesn’t move, Argos releases a loud huff and closes his large brown eyes in sorrow.
My palm finds my sternum. Pressure blooms there, tender and helpless.
Instinct presses me forward, urging me to touch Des’s shoulder, to do anything I can to alleviate his distress. I step onto the first stair.
Movement in my periphery freezes me. Another presence eases through the open door behind them.
Alex.
Fog lifts from the edges of the scene, and the world around me snaps into focus.
I’m at the mansion. This terrace is on the east wing, one of the quieter spaces in the massive building.
“Are you determined to sulk, then?”
Neither Des nor Argos looks at him.
“I am not sulking,” Des replies, flat.
“No?” Disbelief threads Alex’s tone. “What would you call this? Silent brooding? Either way, it won’t help Bella…or Darcie.”
Des still doesn’t look his way. “Our teams scour the earth for Bella as we speak. There is nothing else I can do.”
What is he talking about?
Since the moment Des learned Bella was gone, he has thrown himself into finding her. He plans, organizes, and strategizes. He leaves the mansion for days on end as he searches for her himself.
Where is this defeatist attitude coming from?
I scan him, searching for any sign of injury or illness, but find nothing.
“Darcie would not want you to stop searching for her friend,” Alex says. “You need to conquer…this.”
“You presume to know her well,” Des says without so much as a blink.
With great care to remain silent, I climb the curving stone stairs until I stand on the landing. Now that I’m less than ten feet from Des, the dullness clouding his features is more obvious.
Something has happened.
Something bad.
Alex moves to stand next to the Immortal, mouth set in a stern line.
Argos lifts his head, sniffs the air, and flops back down.
“Quite a guard dog,” Alex murmurs.
Des doesn’t respond.
The joke crumbles between them.
Alex sighs and drops into the chair beside Des, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.
“Darcie will get better,” he says.
“She is in agony.” His knuckles pale as he grips the armrests. “I felt her pain.”
I glance down at my hands. At my legs. I rotate my wrists and tilt my head from side to side.
Nothing hurts.
In fact, I feel…untethered.
Like I'm made of air, too unsubstantial for pain to grip.
Alex leans closer. The move forces the Immortal to focus his distant gaze on the vampire.
“Darcie feels nothing at the moment,” he says, each word measured. “I compelled her mind into detachment. She is not in pain.”
Compelled?
Detachment?
The words ring familiar yet wrong.
Des turns away, breath leaving him in a low, unsteady exhale. “Thank you.”
Pieces fall into place as fast as a shuffled deck of cards.
I’m not really standing here in satin under sunlight.
I’m unconscious in my guest bed, vision-walking the estate like a ghost with nowhere else to go.
Alex unplugged my body from its pain. My mind escaped and ran to the one my soul craves.
Stop it, Darcie.
I shake my head.
Both Alex and Des wear the same clothes from the bedroom confrontation, but have minutes passed? Or hours?
Judging by the shadows under Des’s eyes, I’m betting on the latter.
My mind drifts a little, trying to figure out exactly what Alex’s earlier words meant and what was done to me.
I miss whatever is said next until—
“WHAT?” Des’s roar shatters the air.
I jump, hand grabbing the banister.
The Immortal snarls, “Why did you not say anything?”
“It is only a hypothesis,” Alex replies, maddeningly calm.
“How do you know?” His irises flare. “Why would you keep it to yourself?”
“I spent a significant amount of time with her in adolescence,” Alex says, voice cool but not unkind. “She experienced similar symptoms just before her twenty-first birthday. I had no idea the same could occur with Darcie. When I made the connection, I came to find you.”
Des’s chest heaves once. Twice. He drags a hand over his face, fury dissolving into something older, heavier.
“She just had a birthday,” he mutters, so soft I nearly miss it.
Argos stretches and shakes out his fur. He pads forward and presses his muzzle to the back of Des’s neck.
Des drops his hands and turns, palm finding thick fur.
“Good boy.” His voice goes rough. “I’ll be okay. Go run. I’ll find you later.”
I swear, Argos nods.
He drags a quick lick on Des’s hand and pivots for the stairs leading down to the lawn, heading straight towards me.
Panic flares. I step to the side.
I have no idea what happens when a magical dog barrels through a girl in a vision, but I don’t want to find out.
Wind unfurls across the terrace, carrying the smell of clipped hedges. It billows behind me.
Argos halts mid-stride. His nose tips up, sniffing. Then his head snaps down, and he looks at me.
Shit.
His tail starts swinging.
No, Argos, I mouth the words. I wave my hands toward the lawn. Go play.
He hesitates, ears drooping. His tail stops wagging.
I press my lips together, then wave my hand once more. Go!
He lowers his head, gives me one last wounded-puppy look that almost ends me, and trots on. As soon as he hits grass, he’s a streak of brown running toward the treeline.
I sag against the rail, relief buzzing through my bones. My gaze slips back to the patio.
Alex studies Des from the side.
“You really care about her,” he says.
“I do.”
The word drops like a stone in my chest and ripples outward.
Heat skates across my skin.
Des’ unreserved admission after the weeks of denial still sends my pulse racing. It feeds every reckless thing inside me that wants to cross the distance and wrap my arms around his neck and insist we stop—
I dig my fingers into stone and jerk my head once. Stop it, Darcie.
“You need to hide it better.” Alex’s words are firm, but not harsh.
“I’m trying.” Des tips his head toward the open edge of the terrace. “It’s why I came out here so no one would see.”
A flicker of understanding crosses Alex’s face. “I’ll reach out to my sources and see who can help walk Darcie through this transition.”
The hairs on my arms stand on end.
Transition?
Des’s mouth opens, a question forming.
I take a step, desperate to hear what he’s about to say.
I don’t get the chance.
The floor drops out beneath me.
The terrace goes first, then the sky. A velvet curtain falls all around me, throwing me into darkness.
Don’t panic.
I clamp my eyes shut and take a deep breath as my head swirls like a blizzard ripping through the trees in Maine.
You had a vision, I remind myself. You’re okay.
I count to two, then exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
My pulse throbs in my temples, but eventually, the spinning stops.
I crack my aching eyes open and gasp.
I should have kept them closed.
I’m not back in the real world.
Seven figures stride through unnatural fog rolling over an unseen floor.
Their long, plum cloaks disappear into the distorting cloud while deep hoods swallow their features.
Rushing blood roars in my ears.
“S-stop.” My voice comes out thin, shredded. “Stop right there!”
They don’t.
“Who are you?!” I shout, staggering back.
No answer.
The eerie strangers draw closer, moving in a V-formation, cutting through the dark. The lone figure at the front lifts a hand, palm facing out.
Run!
I turn on my heel and race away.
Black surrounds me. Up. Down. Left. Right. There’s nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. But I don’t stop moving.
My arms pump at my side. The satin robe I wear rides up my thighs. I don’t slow to push it down. The air thickens. It’s hard to breathe.
Curiosity betrays me, and I glance over my shoulder.
A shocked cry escapes my lips.
The cloaked strangers… they’re feet away from me.
But they aren’t chasing me. They’re standing still.
Watching.
Waiting.
“No!”
I won’t be taken again.
I whip my head around and continue to run. My legs work overtime. My lungs burn from exertion. But when I risk another glance, I confirm the cloaked figures are right there.
This isn’t possible…
And yet…
I stumble to a stop and whirl around to face them.
“Who are you?” I scream, terror erasing any chance I have at being composed.
Movement ripples through the thick air.
The front figure raises their hand again.
Wake up, Darcie!
Bright light flickers in the palm, stabbing my sensitive eyes.
I wince and throw an arm over my face, a pointless shield.
The white orb eats the distance between us in a blink, hitting me square in the chest.