Witchful Thinking (19 page)

I was meant to be with Rand—I convinced myself of that when he and I had our moment in 1878. Now I was doing a damn poor job of keeping my promise that he and I would be together again in the here and now. While I didn’t have the luxury of time when it came to picking a suitable moment to talk to Rand, dancing with Sinjin certainly hadn’t moved me any closer to my goal.

None of that mattered now, though. What mattered was the twenty of our own who were now dead.

“What happened?” Rand demanded. I couldn’t help but notice his gaze as it traveled back and forth between Sinjin and me. I almost wondered if his question was aimed at us or at Mercedes.

“I only know what the messenger shared with me,”
Mercedes said. Evidently, the so-called messenger had come across the death scene in Vermont and immediately boarded a plane to England and Pelham Manor. He’d announced the dire news to Mercedes, who just happened to be the first person he encountered.

“And where is this messenger?” Sinjin asked nonchalantly as he settled himself in an unoccupied armchair just beside me. He stretched out his long legs and crossed them at the ankles, looking comfortable and dashing in his customary black attire.

“He seemed a bit … flustered … so I charmed him to sleep,” Mercedes answered with a smile. That had to mean the poor guy was so frazzled after seeing his friends and/or family massacred and then traveling half a day, he probably had a meltdown. I know I would have. And luckily for him, he had Mercedes instead of Tylenol PM.

“But upon my instructions, he was able to procure this.” Mercedes reached across the tabletop behind her and produced a bloody, wadded-up piece of clothing that appeared to be a shirt or maybe a skirt. I thought the fabric was pink, or maybe all the blood had just turned it pink.

“I guess we’re on again tonight?” I asked, realizing Mercedes planned another reanimation for whomever the clothes had belonged to, and that she’d probably intended for us to do it immediately. But the thought of attempting to reanimate anyone else left me nothing but worried. I wasn’t sure I had the strength to go through it again. Not after what had happened last time.

“That was my intention,” Mercedes said with finality.

“I don’t think I can handle ten more,” I said hesitantly, biting my lower lip. “Something happened to me with the last ten.”

“You are not aware of your own strength,” Mercedes said dismissively but Rand interrupted her.

“What do you mean, Jolie?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know what happened but it was as if I lost some of my power with each reanimation. I was exhausted like I’ve never been before. It was like … like electricity went through me or something.”

“It is a difficult feat to reanimate more than one creature,” Mercedes started.

“If Jolie isn’t feeling well,” Rand interrupted.

But I knew we’d have to reanimate at least one of the dead in this most recent incident. Otherwise, how would we ever find out exactly what had happened?

“I think I’m okay,” I said with an insincere smile at Rand.

He just frowned and cocked a brow before facing Mercedes again. She held up the tattered piece of clothing she’d managed to obtain from the messenger and studied it before facing us all expectantly. “This is a sign, I hope you all realize.”

“Ah sign?” Odran repeated, reminding me that he and Trent were still in the room. It’s funny how whenever Rand and Sinjin were in attendance, everyone else seemed to fade into the background.

Mercedes nodded as she faced the fire, appearing to lose herself in the dancing flames. Worry gnawed at her features, and I had to wonder what was going through her head. Suddenly realizing she had an audience, she cleared her throat and faced us again.

“I imagine our enemies know what our weaknesses are—that our population continues to dwindle while theirs continues to increase. We are on the precipice of a disaster that could wipe us out entirely.”

“And what do you propose we do?” Rand asked with tight lips. I glanced at him, despite my attempt to keep from looking at him all night. Seeing him did me no good. Instead it made me all nervous and flustered inside
and increased my body temperature by about five degrees.

“We need to continue reanimating the entire legion,” Mercedes said.

“We’re already doing that,” I pointed out, in a
duh
sort of tone.

“No.” Rand shook his head as his eyes found mine. “We’re reanimating our side, not Bella’s.”

Mercedes nodded as if to say Rand had hit the nail right on the head. “Perhaps we should reanimate both sides, ours and Bella’s.”

There were lots of hushed tones as everyone reacted to the idea of reanimating our enemies. The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized there was no way around it. If the Lurkers really were growing in numbers, it was possible that they could wipe us out. Especially if we couldn’t discover their weakness or, worse yet, if they didn’t have any weaknesses. And as to whether or not our magic would work against them …

“Mercedes, does witch magic work against the Lurkers?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I do not know.” She seemed uncomfortable with that fact.

“Bella’s soldiers could take the loyalty oath with truth serum to ensure they are on our side,” I said in a small voice, basically admitting that I agreed with Mercedes.

“It is a risk,” Rand interjected as he started to pace back and forth. And he was right—it would be a risk because it would mean that half our proposed legion had once been loyal to Bella. In effect, we’d have a legion that was already polarized, already divided against itself.

I glanced at Rand again and noticed he was wearing a long-sleeved, white T-shirt and dark jeans. It looked as if he was in need of a haircut because his chestnut waves stuck out from behind his ears. I actually preferred his
hair long like this—it gave him a rugged sort of look. But it wasn’t like Rand—
unkempt
wasn’t part of his vocabulary.

“Bella’s soldiers would recognize the Lurkers as a bigger threat to their future than us,” Trent pointed out. “That could be enough to get them on our side.”

“Aye,” Odran concurred. I glanced at him, wondering why he’d been so quiet throughout the meeting—it wasn’t like Odran. However, seeing he was almost passed out on Rand’s couch, I guessed he was just tired. Hmm, had someone had a busy evening?

“Regardless of whether we decide to reanimate Bella’s legion, we’re forgetting a major issue. We don’t have time to reanimate more creatures,” I interrupted, suddenly very aware of how long it would take to reanimate another two hundred soldiers.

“If we reanimated Bella’s soldiers, that would bring our number of soldiers to five hundred,” Mathilda said quietly.

“Is that enough to take on the Lurkers?” I asked, somewhat surprised to know we would only number five hundred. Of course, I guess it made sense: If Underworld creatures numbered in the hundreds of thousands, the society of humans would not exist as it currently did. The entire world would be subject to the powers and abilities of the Underworld beings, who were much more powerful than humans.

Mathilda cocked her head to the side as if she were considering my question. “I do not know.”

“How many are on their side?” I asked, glancing at Mercedes.

She shrugged. “I believe their numbers are close to one thousand.”

“One thousand?” I repeated. “How is that possible? That sounds much smaller than I’d imagined. I thought they had no issues with procreating?”

Mercedes shook her head. “The females are only fertile for a short time before they become Lurkers, that is, before their fangs set in.”

“But you said they were expanding at an alarming speed?” I argued.

“Their rate of procreation is faster than ours, that was my point.”

“How do you know this?” Rand asked.

Mercedes frowned at him. “I have learned all I know of the Lurkers through visions and brief encounters with them over the hundreds of years of both of our existences. I admit my knowledge of them is hardly exhaustible.” She paused for a few seconds. “What I do know is that in order for us to defeat them, we will need Bella’s legion.”

Everyone was quiet as they mulled over the possibilities of reanimating Bella’s legion. Before I could think of a solution for the time issue, I was plagued with yet another troubling thought. “We don’t have any pieces of clothing or anything personal from Bella’s soldiers, which prevents us from being able to reanimate them in the first place.”

“We’d have to get Bella on board,” Rand answered, sighing as if that task would be even harder than reanimating her entire legion. He was probably right.

“That’s virtually impossible,” I said, remembering how less than happy she’d been to see me when I’d visited her. No, she would relish having us at her mercy and would love telling all of us to shove it.

“There would be no other way,” Rand argued as he started pacing back and forth again. “She must have created a ledger or something of that nature bearing the names of all her soldiers.”

“I don’t see Bella helping us,” Trent said.

“I think he’s right, Rand,” I said.

“We’re not offering her a choice,” Rand interrupted,
stopping mid-pace as he focused on me. “If we don’t give her a choice, she can’t refuse.”

“Leave Bella to me,” Sinjin said with authority. I turned to face him and found him staring at me. I frowned, remembering that he’d befriended Bella on false pretenses once before. When he and I had met, he’d been pretending to be allied with her and had also been boffing her, both of which made me feel ill.

“If anything, she hates you more than anyone else, given the circumstances,” I said in response.

“Is not the line between love and hate very thin?” he asked with a devil’s smile. I just shook my head.

Mercedes glanced at him and nodded. “Do what you must,” she said, ending the conversation.

“I believe step number one is to bring our victim back to life,” Mercedes announced and reached for the item of clothing again. She handed the clump to me, and I was immediately captivated by some sort of perfume that smelled like lilies. The scent was light but sweet and I guessed this victim was a woman. I glanced at Rand and offered one hand at the same time Mercedes took the other. Now the fun would start.

“Do you want me to help you focus, Jolie?” Rand asked.

I closed my eyes and shook my head. I concentrated on the black of my closed eyelids as I attempted to tune out the room around me and everyone in it. The darkness began to swirl and I felt as if I were floating in a sea of black nothing, riding the swells as reality began to erode into surreality.

My feet landed on something hard that felt like concrete. I opened my eyes to find that I was standing in the backyard of a one-story house. Surrounded by a forest of trees, I noticed that there were no birds singing or insects chirping. Instead screaming deafened my ears and appeared to be coming from the house. I wasn’t sure
what to do so I took a few steps forward, nearly tripping over a woman lying prostrate before me. A man stood above her, staring down at her lifeless body. I figured he must be a family member.

I knelt to ensure she was dead when I noticed that the man above her was suddenly wielding a wooden stake. The man smiled and revealed the tiniest fangs—almost like sharpened Chiclets.

As I suddenly realized the woman wasn’t dead and this jerk was about to finish her off, I lurched forward and dived for her. The Lurker brought the stake down in a split second, his speed and strength impressively fast, vampire fast. I felt a handful of the woman’s hair in my palm. When I opened my eyes, she appeared to be fading, disappearing into the air. I glanced down at myself and noticed that the same thing was happening to me.

I don’t think I passed out this time—the transition between reality and alternate reality was much faster than it had been earlier. I blinked and found myself in Rand’s arms as he, Mercedes, and everyone in the room focused on the woman who was huddled on the floor before us.

She seemed to take a deep breath and then stood up on wobbly legs, glancing around herself as if wondering where the hell she was.

“Where … what …,” she started in an American accent, a Texan drawl to be more specific. Her eyes fell to Sinjin and she heaved a sigh of relief.

“Sinjin Sinclair,” she said and paused for a second or two. “Why do I have the feeling I just died and you really are the devil himself?”

Even though Sinjin merely chuckled at the woman’s accusation, it was safe to say that the rest of us were shocked. It seemed as if even the fire in the fireplace was taken aback because it hissed, hurling a few sparks against the screen.

“Ah, we meet again,” Sinjin said in his sexiest voice as he looked her up and down appreciatively.

“Well, I can’t say I’m really all that bothered by the fact that I’m dead,” she replied with a coy laugh as she approached him. I think the rest of us were too mummified by what happened next to even make a sound—she simply leaned down, placed her hands on either side of Sinjin’s face, and kissed him! Then, in the next split second, she pulled her hand back and smacked him right across the face.