This is your official invitation to join the fun

“Are you sure they won’t be able to smell it?”

Michael shook his head. “It’s very faint and your own scent is particularly strong.”

She frowned, unsure if she should be offended. “If my scent is so strong, won’t that warn them about an intruder?”

He blinked, confusion flitting across his face before he smirked. “No. There’s going to be a lot of humans at the club and Claire is expecting there to be a… variety of courses. Even if someone did suspect an unwelcomed party, it would be like discerning the scent of a single flower from a bouquet.”

“You think of me as a flower? I’m flattered.”

“I suppose in your case,” his smile twitched in annoyance, “it’s more comparable to separating a certain kind of manure for fertilizer.”

“So charming. It’s no wonder why Claire wants to keep you around.”

Sonya stuck out her tongue at him after he turned his back. She shifted gaze to the mirror. Claire’s “lair”—as she liked to think of it—was set on top of a popular night club. Michael’s plan was to simply walk her in and have her play the role of a drunk girl no one would miss. In preparation, her makeup was overdone and her clothes a bit too-tight fitting as she aimed to for the cliché ‘party girl’. All she lacked was bleached hair and a fake tan.

“Are you ready yet?” Michael asked, already standing at the door.

“I’m the one driving and taking most of the risk,” she said while she came up to him, “so I’ll take as long as I please.” Bundling up in an extra layer against the cold, she went outside first. Her eyes immediately honed in on the silvery scratches and dents on her car that peaked out against the snow. She still needed to repay him for those. “Don’t touch anything,” Sonya warned as he approached the passenger’s door.

Michael’s upper lip curled slightly but he said nothing as he sat down.

It didn’t take long to go from the rich suburban to the outskirts of the city. Graffiti dressed down the brick walls of old buildings and small fires smoked on street corners with people wearing three layers of weather-beaten coats. Another few minutes and they were passing bars and strip clubs with lights beckoning in patrons from the cold.

“Up ahead.” Michael guided her to a parking lot beside Claire’s club, Coven’s Den.

“She’s not big on subtlety, is she.”

“It isn’t one of her strengths.”

Sonya kept close to Michael as they approached the entrance, not only because it was getting harder to keep their bond loose, but the atmosphere of the place—despite the laughter and loud music and drunken smiles—made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. The urge to take out her knife kept her from relaxing into her role.

Michael nodded to the bouncer out front—a large man with dark brown hair, green eyes, dressed in all black—who passed them both through without comment.

Young and beautiful, men and women danced and drank and shouted over the pulsing beat. Sonya kept her coat on despite the heat. It hid her weapons. “Claire have a favorite drink?”

“Absinthe.”

She paused for a moment before asking, “Does she have a second favorite drink?”

Michael almost smiled, ordering two vodka martinis. Sonya watched the bartender. Like Michael and the bouncer out front, he was attractive in an almost unnatural way. It made sense for Claire to use members of her own coven to run the place: lower risk of spying eyes.

“Buttoms up.” He held out both drinks to her after they’d moved to a quieter corner.

Sonya glared at the glasses. Alcohol wasn’t her thing. The one time she’d gotten drunk resulted in such a horrendous hangover that she kept her intake down to the occasional glass on holidays.

“You need to drink it,” Michael insisted. “Claire likes alcohol in the blood. If I take you up as you are, her guards will be able to smell that you haven’t been drinking.”

She grumbled under her breath, downing the first glass with a wince and a shudder. She dipped her fingers in the second, splashing some of the clear liquid on herself.

“I suppose that works,” he muttered. As they waited for the alcohol to enter her bloodstream, Sonya forced her muscles to loosen, trying to mimic the relaxed nature of a drunk. “We’re ready,” he said at last. With his hand around her arm, leading her through the room to a curtained door behind the bar. He let her go a few paces before they reached it and Sonya stumbled through. She bumped into a man on the other side and giggled, the rest of her martini glass splashing against him.

“Sorry.” She let her coat slip off her shoulder, smiling up at him. His eyes and hair were both a rich brown on a charming face.

“The party’s on the other side.” He smirked, putting her coat back in place.

“Guy told me… meet upstairs.”

“What guy?”

“From the club.” She swayed onto his other side. “Real cute too. Mmm, but you’re even hotter.” She got up close and smiled. “Maybe I should meet you upstairs.”

His arm wrapped around her waist—there was too much strength in his hold. “I’d like that.” He smiled, his mouth moving closer to her neck. She reached towards her knife.

“She’s not for you, Francis.”

Sonya resented the relief she felt as Michael came up behind her.

“Didn’t realize you were contributing tonight.” Francis released her waist but touched her cheek. She would’ve preferred making out with Keme.

Michael placed a hand on Sonya’s back and she bobbed her head back to look at him, hoping something of a drunken smile was still on her face.

“You were wrong,” Michael told him, walking around the corner and down a short hallway to a set of stairs.

“Cutting it a bit close there,” Sonya hissed at him. “Thought you were going to let him bite him.”

“It was an option I’d considered.” He paused before adding, “But I doubt you’d have let him.”

She gawked at him, sure she must’ve heard wrong. “Was that a compliment?”

“An observation,” he corrected. “If you weren’t able to handle yourself, I never would’ve picked you for this in the first place.”

Michael slowed, his head tilting. When he spoke again, she could barely hear him. “At the end of the hall, take a left and go straight. There’s two men there. Take them down. I’ll be right behind you.”

Sonya nodded, and started ambling along the hall. The tugging on her spine returned and forced her to re-stretch the bonds between her and Michael. At least the sudden loss of energy made it easier to stagger around like she was about to pass out. In front of the target door, two men greeted her as she drew nearer. The one on the right was slim and blonde with the friendliest smile she’d ever seen. The other, slightly shorter than his companion, was bulkier beneath his clothes but wore an equally inviting face. If she hadn’t known better, she would’ve liked these two without question.

“Is there where I’m supposed to go?” She asked, eyes wide. “Special party, right?” Rubbing her eyes with a yawn, she stretched her arms behind her head and slid the spikes out of her hair, tucking them partway up her sleeves.

“A very special party,” the slender one said, holding his arm out towards the door.

Sonya swayed, positioning herself between the pair. “I—I don’t know…”

“It’s alright,” the broader one assured her, “We don’t bite.”

His friend laughed. Sonya forced a giggle, letting them get closer to her.

“That’s too bad.”

She jabbed the thin spikes into each of their necks. The effect was instant. Laughter died in their eyes and calls for help caught in their throats. The taller one reached for her but the movement was sluggish and she slapped her hands over their mouths to stifle the noise as she guided to the floor.

Michael appeared over her shoulder. “Took you long enough.”

“You know what,” Sonya poked him in the chest. “Next time, you can do all the work and I’ll make the snarky comments.”

“Follow me,” he said, ignoring her last statement. “We haven’t much time.”

“Wait. What about these two?”

“They’re not the target.”

“But it’s stupid to just leave them like this. Dead man’s blood won’t keep them down for long. Isn’t there some place to put them?” Sonya blocked him when he tried to go inside.

“This is not a Bram Stoker novel. Our deal is that you assist me in taking down Claire. These ones are inconsequential.”

Sonya glared at him, suspecting a trick. But if she spilled their blood, it would alert the others. And without knowing the layout of the place, she could end up walking into the wrong room. When he pushed inside, she felt the bond begin to stretch and relented in falling in step behind him. The room was large with pillars lining both sides, ropes and chains tied around each like the ones at the warehouse. There were four other doors that she could see, two on each side.

Michael gave off no sound when he stepped across the polished floor which only made her feel more and more like an elephant stampeding around the place with each scuff of her shoes and brush of her clothes. It didn’t feel right. She expected there to be a little resistance; someone walking into them by accident if nothing else. This was too easy. She stared at the back of Michael’s head—she should’ve prepared something with dead man’s blood for him, just in case.

“No.” His shoulders drooped before he ran to the other end of the room.

“What is this, Michael?”

“I don’t understand. She’s supposed to be here. I can smell her here, I can—” He cut off and ran around to the side of one of the pillars. He returned with a pierced blood pack that had been tied on the other side.

Sonya took out her knife. “I swear Michael, if this is some kind of trap—”

“Of course it’s a trap.” A woman laughed. Sonya couldn’t see where the voice came from. “But it wasn’t set for you.”

A curvaceous woman with dark brown skin and cinnamon eyes came through one of the doors. Her hair fell in loose waves and her full lips curled up in a sensuous smile. It was like discovering the living embodiment of Cleopatra.

“Michael, why do you keep insisting on these ridiculous schemes? I’m always watching out for you, waiting for you to understand what you are to me.” Her hips swayed a little when she walked.

“I’m a puppet to you, Claire.”

Claire reached up and caressed his cheek. Sonya could see the revulsion in his eyes. She shuddered, shaking herself out of her stupor. Drawing her knife, Sonya ran forward.

“Don’t kill the human,” Claire said with a little toss of her hand.

Lunging towards the vampire, Sonya didn’t even make it halfway before she was thrown across the room. She rolled and got back to her feet in time for the next assault. Two of the coven were on her, trying to hold her down. Sonya stamped down on the instep of one and elbowed the other in the neck. They both flinched under the attacks. Breaking free of their hold, she dashed forward. Someone tackled her from behind. She slashed out with her knife and kicked, trying to get upright again. The hold on her released but another three of the coven were on her before she could stand, pinning down her arms and legs, their grips like manacles.

“Michael, help me!”

He shook his head, Claire hanging off his shoulder, every part of her expression radiating smug victory.

“Tie her down,” she ordered. “Don’t damage her too much.”  

Sonya thrashed about as they carried her to the center of the room, three more men coming in, one carrying a chair and rope. They sat her down and bound her. She struggled and shouted and glared at Michael who remained unmoving with a mournful expression.

Claire walked over at a steady pace, entirely unconcerned.

“Others know where I am,” Sonya told her. “If I go missing, they’ll come after you.” She wondered if it was true, or if the Hunters would just label her as collateral damage and move on.

“You think that scares me?” Claire laughed. “I’ve been right here for nearly eighty years and no one has ever come close to bringing me down.” She reached into a pocket and pulled out Sonya’s hair spikes—blood coated the tips. “Dead man’s blood is a cheap trick. It doesn’t last very long, especially not with such small amounts.”

The two guards she’d knocked out came up to the entrance. They closed the doors behind them. She could see nine vampires in the room, excluding Michael. The phrase “certain death” came to mind.

“Benjamin, expose her neck.”

Sonya scooted the chair away as best she could with her legs tied. “No, Benjamin,” Sonya said as a man with a bleeding cheek came towards her, “Don’t do that.” She arched and craned to get away but he grabbed her hair and jerked it off to the side, ripping out a few strands in the process. Sonya’s eyes watered at the pain. She looked up at him. He was tan with thick eyebrows and an overly perfect nose. “I’m killing you second.”

Everyone but Michael laughed. He looked sick.

“Let her go, Claire.” He took a step forward, the movement seeming to drain him of his energy. “I’ll take the punishment.”

Claire’s face tightened. “This is your punishment.” She gestured to Benjamin and the two guards from before. The three of them took hold of Michael, who remained limp as a marionette without strings, and thrust him against one of the pillars. Benjamin brought out a set of chain they used to shackle him in place. Michael caught Sonya’s eye. He mouthed I’m sorry before turning away, his head drooping in shame.

“Eric, James, you stay,” Claire ordered. “The rest of you, leave.”

Everyone bowed and obeyed. When the door shut, Sonya’s sense of dread redoubled. The resonating clang of the doors felt so final.

“Dearest Michael, why do you always test me like this?” Claire sauntered over and moved the hair from his face.

“A slave will always fight for freedom.”

“And that’s how you see yourself? A slave?”

“It’s the most apt description, yes. You’ve robbed me of choice. What would you call that if not slavery.”

Sonya’s eyes narrowed at their dramatic exchange. Leaving them to their conversation, Sonya lifted her weight onto the balls of her feet, shifting the chair over. Eric and James were on her in an instant, holding her down. Their fingers dug into her shoulders.

Claire’s attention diverted to Sonya as her face twisted sadistically. “It appears our guest is rather impatient. We’ll continue our conversation later.” She stalked back to Sonya and held out her hand to one of her groupies who gave over the hunting knife.

“It’s really too bad you had to go against me, Sonya.”

Sonya frowned. How did Claire know her name?

“I like your attitude. You could’ve been the first woman in my coven.”

“I think I’ll live without that particular honor.”

Claire chuckled, holding the knife up against Sonya’s neck. “No, you won’t.”

Sonya glared up at her. If she was going to die, she wasn’t going out with a whimper.

“Oh no,” Claire said, backing off towards Michael. “I’m not the one who’s going to kill you.” She grabbed hold of Michael’s arm and made a deep incision near the wrist. Michael grunted, his arms straining against the chains to reach for her neck.

“No moving, Michael.”

Everything but his eyes froze in place. When he’d said Claire had control over him, Sonya thought he meant more in a blackmailing kind of way or maybe that he felt compelled to obey. But this was absolute obedience against his will.

Claire made a similar cut at his other arm. His blood, thick and dark, dripped onto the tiled floor. The color in his face drained with each drop. Even his hair faded to grey. His cheeks grew gaunt and angular; his canines peeked out from behind his lips as they grew long and sharp.

“Have you ever seen a starving vampire before?” Claire laughed, madness creeping into her voice. “Any sense of control is lost. Instead of merely draining our food, we rip it apart, too hungry to care.” She nodded and Eric and James left through one of the doors.

“Michael, my love,” Claire kissed his cheek. “Drink her blood until her heart stops.”

“No.” His voice was hollow and weak but the defiance was there.

Claire cut him again, across the chest this time.

He shuddered, bleeding from grey to white. Slowly, almost too quietly for Sonya to hear, a growl started growing from his throat. His blue eyes burned. His body pulled against his bindings.

Claire took his wrists again, the cuts almost healed. He snarled and Sonya started scooting in the opposite direction. She leaned down, trying to bite the ropes on her wrists.

“I’ll be waiting outside for you when it’s done,” Claire told Michael. “Bring her corpse to me.” She undid his bindings and walked to the door. “Remember, Michael, drain her until her heart stops.”

When the door clicked shut behind her, Michael moved forward. Slow at first, he came straight towards Sonya.

She struggled against the bindings, trying to hop away. Michael loomed closer. With each step, his face grew tighter.

“Michael?” Despite her efforts, she’d only managed to move a few inches since his approach. “Michael, please don’t do this.”

He towered above her and drew her hair back. His fingers wound in and tugged, forcing her neck to arch.

“Please!” She squirmed in the chair. “Please stop this.”

His clear eyes were cold. “Quit your mewling.” His voice creaked like an old board. “Always with the whining.” He angled her neck to the side and licked his lips. “Always with the empty promises.”

She anticipated a burst of strength like with Thatcher or the Wendigo. Nothing came. She was on her own. And she was about to die. Tied to a chair. With this leech sucking the life from her.

“I am so going to haunt you for this.”
Chapter 20

Sonya flinched away from the blinding light. She tried to stand but her body wouldn’t so much as twitch. She felt, rather than saw, her arms and legs tied down. Squinting, the room slowly came into focus. It was the room from her dream, after she’d healed her ankle. Her eyes strained against the brightness. No sign of her doppelganger.

“Hello?”

“Why didn’t you come back for me?” The voice was more like an echo, loud but distant.

“I’m sorry?”

“I’ve been waiting so long. It’s so dark here.”

Dark? She felt like if she kept her eyes open much longer, she’d go blind. Sonya tested her restraints, looking down to chains of pale green.

“I…” Sonya tried to find the other woman, playing along for time. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“How could you forget?” The voice drew closer and her pale-eyed-self materialized over her right shoulder, coming around. She was disturbingly thin, appearing both sick and underfed. “You were there when it happened.”

“What are you talking about? My ankle? Was it you that healed me?”

The other Sonya touched her cheek, her hand cold and coarse. She shook her head and her greasy hair flopped at her shoulders. “I suppose it’s been too long. But don’t worry, sister, once it’s my turn, I’ll fix everything.” She sighed, sitting down next to her on the floor. Her head, too large for her body, quirked to one side. “He’s attempting to save you.”

Sonya tried asking what she meant but pain hammered across the front of her chest and her veins felt like someone had mixed acid into her blood.

The other one hugged Sonya’s tied legs. “I’ll send you back again, but don’t forget me this time.” She let go and stood up. “And don’t let father know I’m here.”

“Wait. Father?”

Her twin pressed a finger to Sonya’s lips before fading into smoke.

Sonya’s chains fell off like off like pulled string and the room went black.

The dream or vision or brain tumor she’d seen replayed in Sonya’s head. What had happened to her as a child—her murder—she’d locked it in the back of her mind hoping that if she didn’t think about it too hard, it would keep anyone else from finding out. But if that voice, her other self, was real; there was a lot more going on than she’d first guessed.

Sonya smelled tea and coconuts. She pushed against the weight of her eyelids, feeling itchy and stiff all over. A few yards away, Michael stood dipping a tea infuser into a kettle. Beside him sat a tray with two saucers, cups, and a plate of cookies.

If this was her life flashing before her eyes, any other scene would’ve been preferable.

She wanted to drift back to sleep but something pinched the crook of her arm and kept her from nodding off.

“Are you conscious?”

Michael’s voice drew her out of the haze. Once everything that happened surfaced to her memory, she wanted to throttle him. “You—” her voice cracked and she coughed. A faint taste of blood filled her throat. With her movement, everything well from a dull ache to full on pain, especially her chest—it felt like someone had taken a sledge hammer to it.

Sonya looked down. A needle attached to a thin rubber tube spiraled up from her arm. It wasn’t blood but a somewhat milky substance. She followed the tube up to the left where it was stuck in a fresh coconut. She turned to look at the vampire. “You have a houseful of blood packs and you put coconut water in me?”

“Most of the blood I obtain isn’t fit for transfusion. In any matter, I don’t exactly store it with this sort of thing in mind. Moreover, I didn’t have a lot of your blood type.”

“But coconuts?”

“It’s a suitable substitute. I’ve been switching out between this and several blood bags. And you needed the liquids. As I don’t have ready access to a hospital, this seemed the best option.”

Sonya sneered, repeating his words in her head but with a higher-pitched, whinier voice. Dying put her in a really bad mood. She moved to sit up more but her chest spasmed and she froze halfway, not sure if lying down again would make it worse. For the first time since waking up, Michael’s know-it-all expression faltered.

“I might have broken a few ribs during the resuscitation.”

She groaned as she eased into her lounging position. “Why did you do it?” she asked, “Save my life?”

“Don’t misunderstand,” Michael said, stiffening his posture. “I didn’t save you because I wanted to. I simply didn’t want to risk out little link, or whatever it is you forced onto me, to continue on after your death. Hauling around your corpse for the rest of eternity would’ve been very inconvenient. Though I suppose I do have to be grateful that I didn’t have to risk wearing your face for the rest of my life.”

“Why? Couldn’t handle being good looking for once?”

“I would rather resemble Leroux’s Fantôme than have a face like yours.”

Sonya stuck out her tongue, her arm too tangled up in the wires to flip him off. “I need to get my bag.”

“This hardly seems to be the time to change.”

Sonya ground her teeth, her frustration spilling into her words as she snapped, “Really? Cause whenever I’m murdered and then come back to life, I always feel like putting on a fresh shirt.” Her anger and pain kept her pride on high. She needed her journal but if he was going to mock her, she’d mock him right back.

Michael cleared his throat, slightly flushed. “Your luggage in still in the boot of your car. And unless you feel like walking out there with me, your bag will just have to wait.”

He got up and walked into the next room before she could explain why she wanted her things. It took a moment before she realized they weren’t in his house. The room, dark and rather cold, was a small living room with the single couch she was laying on. The adjoining “kitchen” had a set of rickety burners on the counter and an off-white fridge that looked like it was from the fifties. She couldn’t see much of anything else.

Shifting her left arm up to touch the bandages on her neck, she scratched at her memory. Nothing remained between Michael biting her artery and the strange dream with her copy.

Michael returned with the tray and held out the cup of tea. She sipped but it hurt to swallow.

“Where are we?”

“Some place even Claire doesn’t know about.” He tried to hide it but she could see the doubt in his eyes.

“She knew my name,” Sonya said. The bug she found in the bathroom. It hadn’t been Michael’s. How many of them had been in that house?

“I noticed,” he said with another sip. “Bringing you here—it was the best way to keep away from prying eyes. I have a friend better versed in such matters. He came by the other house earlier this morning to do a discrete ‘sweep’, I believe he called it. He said there were recorders and cameras in every room.” His head hung low like he was ashamed of never seeing it before. “This whole time…” he muttered more to himself.

“Wait, back up. You have friends?” She tried to keep her tone light.

His face jerked up with a hostile glare.

“Just teasing,” she explained. Setting the china aside, she grabbed a piece of extra bandage next to her, pressing it against her arm after she removed the IV.

“What are you doing?”

“Help me outside.” She said, sitting up bit by bit.

“Why do you—”

“Just help me. Please. I need to get my book.”

He regarded her through narrowed eyes before saying, “I’ll get it for you. Try and drink some more tea.” He turned to leave but stopped a few paces away. The tugging on her spine reminded her of their connection—even after dying, it was still in place.

Sonya sighed, closing her eyes and using what little energy she had to loosen their bond. He left without another word. Yawning hard enough to dislocate her jaw, she picked up her tea. She took small sips as she watched the snow violently attack the window.

Michael returned a moment later, several inches of snow on his head and shoulders. He set her duffle, equally covered, down in front of her.

“Sonya I—” He shifted from one foot to the other, hunching a bit. “I wanted to apologize for what I did to you.”

“It wasn’t your fault. Not entirely, anyway.”

“I’m still sorry.”

An awkward silence grew until Sonya asked, “What happened to you while I was—” she didn’t want to say ‘dead’—“out of it?”

“Claire made her position clear.”

Sonya puffed out her cheeks but kept her questions to herself. She didn’t want to risk his anger resurfacing. When she tried leaning over to get her bag, her ribs felt ready to pop through her skin.

“In the bottom, there’s a zipper for a semi-hidden pocket. Could you open it for me?”

Michael blanched. “You expect me to dig through that?”

“Nothing’s going to bite you. It’s just some clothes and—well, I guess I put my gun in there but you took all the bullets out.”

“I am not going to sort through your dirty laundry.”

“I’m not disease-ridden,” she nearly shouted at him. Which was a mistake. Shouting meant more breathing and more breathing meant more pain. “Empty out the bag onto the floor if you’re really that OCD about it.” She smirked. “Or do you have some kind of fetish that you’re afraid I’ll see.”

He sneered, turning the duffle upside down and shaking out the contents. The Glock thunked on top of her pajamas and jeans. He used his foot to shove the pile aside before feeling inside the bag. His squirming made it look like he was feeling inside a cadaver.

“Don’t be such a baby.”

Michael glared at her and fished the journal out. He looked it over, his upper lip curling. “Are you going to put another curse on me?”

“I didn’t curse you.” I don’t think.

She gestured for the book and he handed it over. She flipped to the page she’d used to heal her ankle and glanced back up at him. “Could you turn your back?”

Michael rolled his eyes but did a little half-circle, muttering under his breath the entire time.

Sonya cleared her throat, feeling nervous. There was still a chance that her brain was going to feel like it was on fire again.

“Dagai kin namedisu. Sansek kin okishika. Kozatre cono vin zintere cono cre naven.”

She clenched her eyes and waited. A warm, tingling sensation started from her toes and spread up her muscles and bones until it evaporated out the top of her head. Her breath left her and she sank down in a mixture of relief and a strong desire to sleep. Not being in pain was the best feeling in the world.

“Can I turn around yet?”

“Yeah.” She peeled the bandages off her neck, wincing when the tape stretched out her skin.

Michael rushed forward, demanding what she was doing. He stopped short, his eyes widening. “How is that…” He touched her neck, his fingers pausing in several spots. She pictured the faint twin scars there where he’d punctured her.

“So you can do this,” he said, “but you can’t figure out how to undo your curse?”

Sonya snapped the book shut. “I told you, it wasn’t a curse.”

“Says the witch.”

“Don’t call me that!” She clenched her fists, wondering if this was the same man who’d been apologizing only a few minutes earlier. “I made a mistake, yes, but you literally killed me.”

“And perhaps I should’ve left you that way.”

His pale cheek was begging to be smacked. Sonya took a deep breath, gripping her book overly tight. Maybe if she kept looking, there’d be something to make him go bald and lose all his teeth. She turned away from him.

Sonya had little more than a month left before the tallies were locked into place and she couldn’t even return until she’d sorted everything out with Michael. “You had your chance to end things with Claire. Now, we’ll try it my way.”

“You’re in no condition to go up against her again.”

Sonya reached up and flicked him right in the forehead. “Do you really think I would heal my neck and not the rest of me?” She rolled her eyes and asked, “What does Claire want more than anything?

“For me to become like her.”

“Really?” Sonya raised an eyebrow. “That’s it. That’s what she wants most. You.”

“Yes.” His offended expression soothed her annoyance.

“If you say so.” Sonya mulled over the plan she had in mind, wondering if she should call in reinforcements. But if they found out that she was working with a vampire would they kick her out? Label her as an enemy? Isaac and the others would never let her live it down at the very least. She wanted to try it on her own first. “If what you say is true then give into her.”

“Never.”

“Because she’s evil.” He back straightened further, stubborn determination almost falling off his shoulders.

“So?”

Michael glared at her and she moved out of reach before he could steal back her book or shove the IV back in her arm.

“How am I supposed to do that with our attachment? If Claire really is monitoring me then staying away from my assigned house for a few weeks is going to look very suspicious.”

“I know,” She tapped the front of her book. Everything depended on whether she could find the right way to manipulate their situation. Exhaustion tugged a yawn from her, her energy leaking out. “Tomorrow, I’ll make sure you’ll be able to move about freely.”

“And what should I do in the meantime? Watch you sleep?”

Sonya yawned again, the couch cushions pulling her in like quicksand. “I’m sure you’d rather shove shards of glass in your eyes.” She held out her book. “You’re welcome to look for something I missed.” And if he tried to use one of the incantations, it would tell her if others could access the power as well.

“I’d prefer not ending up like you.”

Sonya grumbled, the insults falling short on her tongue as the book slipped from her fingers and she finally fell asleep.