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I’d bet my right hand Trevor was the source of the second spicy cologne scent up on deck. He’s right here, and there isn’t a human anywhere in sight. The boat is completely silent, aside from the gentle shush of the waves lapping against the sides and the faint strains of classical music pumped through the speakers positioned throughout the room.
She’s likely lying about changing me, too—I’d honestly be shocked if she weren’t—but that’s fine.
Soon, I’ll be able to separate Priscilla’s fact from fiction. All I need is for her to take a few sips of Truth Potion Number 9.
I set the martini glass on the bar and push it toward the petite woman, now settled daintily on a stool in front of me. “There you go. Hope you like it.”
“I’m sure I will.” She runs slim fingers down the stem of the glass as she watches me rinse my sterling silver shaker in the sink behind the bar. She dips her head closer to the surface of the drink, making my heart leap into my throat. “It smells delicious. Is that rosemary?”
“Yes,” I say, clearing my throat when the word comes out strained. I can’t afford to lose my cool now. I have to remain calm and give no sign that I’m desperate for her to take a drink, already. “Rosemary and a couple drops of campfire smoke. That’s okay, right? I asked the chef for a list of vampire-friendly ingredients before I started playing around with recipes.”
“Oh, yes, it’s better than okay. It’s delightful.” She lifts the glass and my stomach lurches with a mixture of anticipation and dread.
I need the truth from her, but a part of me is terrified that the truth will be as terrible as the lies she’s told so far.
Maybe there isn’t a cure. Maybe Edmond really is doomed.
Maybe I’ve put myself and our family at risk for nothing.
Either way, it looks like I’m about to find out…
Priscilla tips the drink back, downing the contents in one slow, silky motion. She sets the glass delicately back on the bar, swallows, and reaches for a cocktail napkin from the holder, dabbing at her lips before she says, “Now, why don’t you tell me why you’re really here, Cassandra. Before I drain your lying body dry and throw you overboard for the sharks?”
My pulse flutters in my throat, but I refuse to show fear. Bullies thrive on fear and that’s all Priscilla is, really. She might be an ancient, overpowered bully, but at the core she’s just another jerk who hates herself so much she feels compelled to take it out on other people.
“Sure thing,” I say, drying my hands on a bar towel before tossing it over my shoulder. “But first, why don’t you tell me how to break the curse. It’s the least you can do, right? After enjoying such a thoughtfully crafted and refreshing beverage?”
Her lips part, and an answer to my question emerges, but it’s so completely not what I was expecting that I can’t make sense of it at first.
“What?’ I ask, shaking my head. “You can’t be serious.”
“I can, and I am,” she says, paling as her gaze cuts to the now empty glass before her. “But I didn’t intend to share that with you, Cassandra.” Her tongue slips out to wet her lips as she whispers, “What have you done to me, witch?”
“I drugged you with a truth potion, but you’ll be fine in a few hours,” I say, ignoring the pain spreading through my abdomen as the potion works its magic. “I mean you no harm. I just wanted to help Edmond.”
“And now you can,” she says, a manic light flickering in her eyes as her lips tremble into a wobbly smile. “Assuming you can get off this boat and safely back to your true love, of course. But that might be difficult, seeing as the Shadowbanes are attacking in just a few hours. It would be so easy for a young witch to get caught in the crossfire.”
I take a step back, fighting to keep the pain twisting through my insides from showing on my face. “You’re working with them? The Shadowbanes? Why? The Blackmores are your clan, you basically created them.”
“The Blackmores have strayed from the path. They’re hardly even vampires anymore,” she says, sliding slowly off the stool. “To put it bluntly, I’ve lost patience with the ‘woke’ generation, Cassandra. I want a return to the old days and the old ways, back when vampires used their fangs as they saw fit, and the rest of the supernatural community knew their place.”
“When is the attack coming? From where?” I ask, searching the room again for an alternate route of escape and finding jack shit. The voice of doom assures me that even if I get the goods on the attack, I’ll never get back to the mansion to warn the Blackmores in time, but I have to try.
“From the riverbed and the sea. The first wave will take the town from the river while the ships dock by the cliffs and invade the mansion from behind,” she says, her nose wrinkling as the words emerge from her rosebud mouth. “But that information won’t do you or them any good, little girl. All I have to do is cry for help and you’re dead. Sylvester and Trevor will rip you in half like a wishbone and feast on the pieces.”
I glance over my shoulder, heart leaping as I spot a small porthole just big enough for my bag to fit through. I tamp down my excitement, hoping to keep Priscilla talking long enough to put plan Emergency Backup into motion.
“Fine, I’m dead meat, I accept that,” I say as I shift back toward the bar. “But I want the truth first. Did you ever love Edmond? Even a little bit? Because where I come from, love doesn’t make you hurt people.”
“How lovely for you,” Priscilla says, her already pale face blanching white. “And yes, I loved him, but where I come from love, power, and control were inextricable. Love could only be gentle when the control was complete. My father taught me that when he promised me in marriage to a man three times my age, a man he knew to have the great pox.” Her lips quirk up on one side in a humorless smirk. “Syphilis, you’d call it now. Papa knew it would rot my brain and most likely kill me before I reached my twentieth birthday, but he didn’t care, so long as I produced an heir to inherit my husband’s fortune first. He promised he’d kill me himself if I didn’t do as I was told. Power and control always came first.”
She starts around the bar, making it clear I only have a few seconds left to make my move.
“I’m sorry about that.” I reach for my bag before edging toward the porthole, fighting the urge to clutch my burning stomach. I can’t afford to get sick or pass out or what little shot I have at getting out of here will be gone. “But lots of people grow up with monsters and don’t become monsters themselves. Having a horrible father doesn’t give you permission to be a horrible mother or lover or anything else.”
“I’m a vampire, darling,” she says, baring her now very pointy teeth. “I don’t require permission. Soon, that will become clear to you and everyone else in this silly little town.” She lifts a hand, and her voice takes on a more meaningful edge. “Now, sweetheart, why don’t you—”
“No, no, no!” I shout in an attempt to stave off her mind-control voodoo a few seconds longer. I lunge for the porthole, ripping it open and tossing my bag out in one swift motion before spinning back to face Priscilla and jabbing a finger toward her chest. “And don’t call me sweetheart. I’m not sweet! I’m fierce and pissed off, and I’m not going to put up with your crazy vampire bullshit.”
