The floor was rotating beneath Loren’s feet. “It was you,” she whispered to Calanthe. “It was you all along.” Her mind spun as she remembered back to the events of these past few months, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place at last.
How the Demon Twins had attacked Loren, and she swore she’d heard a sound in the back alley as she and the Devils had taken off after the twins—the only two people they’d believed were watching them. The only two they’d thought they would need to track down and kill. Little had they known there was a third person—a vampire who’d gone on to tell Calanthe of the human girl in the Devils’ protection.
How Sabrine had conveniently appeared in that alley by the Bonefish Market, as if someone had dropped her off for a werewolf—who was searching the area for his missing sister—to find. To turn her into one of his own in the hopes of receiving information that would lead him to his sister, the biting of Sabrine initiating a call to action from Calanthe herself.
How Calanthe had then offered up an alliance to the Devils and the wolves to keep the Arcanum Well out of the wrong hands. In the weeks since, no one had attacked her—no one had shown up at the apothecary while she was most vulnerable, with only one Devil watching her from the street. And like an idiot, she’d believed it was the Avertera talisman keeping her safe and hidden.
The alliance had been a tool—a tool to weasel in close to Loren. To be the first to know if—or when—she found the Well.
“You knew the whole time that the demons were the missing students,” Loren said, her words hollow. “You were only using that to trick us into trusting you.Youwere the one doing the experiments on them with the replica.”
“I have to admit, it wasn’t just me,” Calanthe said. “I had some help.” Calanthe smiled smugly as she waited for Loren to piece it together.
“Randal,”she hissed. That night in the kitchen at Hell’s Gate, when the Devils had been contacted by Randal to go to his lair—when they hadn’t been able to pin down who’d sold them out. “Youtold him about us. You made him take the Blood Covenant with Darien so it would make me want to look for the Arcanum Well.” And shehadwanted to get the mark off Darien—themark. Her want had had nothing to do with finding the Well.
“Yes,” Calanthe said. “Yet you still couldn’t find it. The Dominus Volumen says the Well can only be found by will. There was no way we could force you to find it. No—you had to do that all on your own.” And so they’d stood by, having one foot in the door with the alliance they’d set, and possibly stalking them the whole time from afar.
Loren bared her teeth, fingers balling into fists. “You were the one who set Taega up. Weren’t you? And then your people attacked Dallas when she was sifting through the evidence you planted at Fleet Headquarters.”
“Taega and the Magical Protections Unit were hitting too close to home. And when she started to nail down our regular pickup locations from the Syndicate, I knew I had to do away with her. A little signature lifting on Jonathon Kyle’s part, turned in to the law enforcement, and I knew they’d be more than happy to wash their hands of the situation—and that goes for the MPU as well. What more devastating end to an investigation than to discover it was one of your own people—the respected Commander of Angelthene’s Fleet herself—who was responsible?”
Loren’s fists were shaking. “That’ll never stand up in court.”
“It will,” Calanthe said patiently. “If a person has the right connections.”
They’d all been played. It had all been one grand, manipulative plan to set people up; to cover their own asses and get their hands on what they wanted.
“We know you’ve found the other half of the scroll, Calla,” Calanthe said. “And you’re going to give it to me.”
Loren looked at the headmaster with wide eyes. “That’s why you didn’t expel Dallas and I for trespassing in the restricted library.” Her lungs felt like they were being stepped on, and her surroundings shimmered. “You were hoping we would uncover information from the scroll that you could use.”
Langdon wouldn’t even look at her.
“I’m tired of waiting, Calla,” Calanthe said. “And while you’ve been taking your sweet time deciphering your half of the scroll, and no doubt withholding information from us, we’ve managed to translate ours. As it turns out, it isn’t justfindingthe Well that the blood of Erasmus Sophronia can do—you can operate it. You can turn our little prototype into the real thing, Calla. You can make it as real as the original.”
Loren was shaking her head. “I won’t.”
Calanthe’s smile broadened, fangs glinting in the sunlight. “Oh, but you will.”
Loren hadn’t realized she was backing away until she bumped into the heartrate monitor, causing it to rock back and forth. “Why are you doing this?” she whispered.
“For the greater good,” Calanthe said. “For a world of equality—one without half-breeds and humans.”
“You can’t call it equality if you’re exterminating entire groups of people to create your vision of a perfect world.”
“The Imperator is always looking to the future,” Calanthe said. The Imperator—the Head of all of Terra and the criminal mastermind who must’ve employed all those Darkslayers and warlocks; employed Calanthe herself and the House of the Blood Rose and marked them with the Phoenix Head. “The Tricking could kill a great many people, Miss Calla—and the Arcanum Well will stop that from happening. Not only that, but it will also turn people like you into something better. Something that will add to society for far longer than the measly century—at best—that your kind is known to live for.”
“What about the people who don’t want that?” Loren’s voice was shaking. “What if an immortal life isn’t what they want for themselves?” Contrary to the haughty belief of immortals, there were people who liked being human, who had no craving for an unchanging and permanent life.
Calanthe pretended to consider, her red eyes flicking to the ceiling. “They will be done away with,” she said plainly, those eyes settling again on Loren.
“Whatever happened to freedom of choice?” Loren sidled along the wall by the window behind the bed. She was buying herself time. Maybe Darien would figure out what was happening; maybe he could help her. “And what ofyourpeople? You need human blood to survive. Are the blood donor clinics not good enough for you?”
“The Imperator has made arrangements for our survival needs.”
“You mean blood farms,” Loren seethed. She shuffled another foot to the right; the vampire tracked the movement with mirth. “You’re sick.”
“They’ll be kept in a state of coma. They won’t even know what’s happening.”
