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“You let the ghosts have her,” Charity taunted. Her eyes shone like a cat’s, bright and flat. “Bianca’s body is rotting, her spirit is hostage, and it’s all your fault.”
Lucas shuddered, and I knew she’d cut him to the quick. His voice was deadlier than I’d ever heard it when he said, “You’ll pay for hurting her.”
“Do you even believe what you’re saying?” Charity smiled.
“You don’t want to kill me, boy. You want to die.”
I wanted Lucas to deny it. He didn’t.
Charity laughed. “Don’t worry, Lucas. You’ll be reunited with Bianca soon enough—in your graves.”
“No!” I cried—but I wasn’t in the dark room any longer. I was back in the wine cellar. Vic and Ranulf were staring at me, even more bewildered than before.
“Bianca?” Vic said. “What happened?”
I grabbed his arm. “If we don’t get to Lucas right away, he’ll be killed.”
Chapter Twenty-three
“BALTHAZAR’S EVIL SISTER, CHECK,” VIC SAID AS we ran from the wine cellar toward his car. The streetlight nearby cut through the night to outline his thin shadow against the driveway; I no longer had a shadow. “Lucas and Balthazar at the end of their tether, check. Lots of crazy-ass vampires, check. Have I got the situation here?”
“Pretty much.” I was relieved that I wouldn’t have to explain in more depth. “I don’t know where they are, though.”
Vic grimaced. “Philly’s a big city, Bianca. Can’t you use your subway magic whatever to go back there, maybe describe the place?”
“I’ve been trying,” I snapped. Spectral traveling required concentration, apparently, and I was far too frightened to concentrate. Then it hit me that I did have one more clue to go by, one I’d have thought of earlier if I hadn’t been panicking. “It was a movie theater but one that had been abandoned a long time. Graffiti taggers had hit it hard. Does that sound familiar to you?”
To my relief, Vic’s face lit up. “The McCrory Plaza Six shut down two years ago—Yeah, that’s got to be it!” He turned to look for Ranulf, who had calmly walked out after us and headed to the garage. “Ranulf, buddy, you with us?”
“I am collecting items that may be useful,” Ranulf called.
“Weapons.” I ought to have thought of it before. “Vic, we need to be armed for this. Can you fight?”
Vic didn’t look thrilled by the idea. “Uh, I took karate—”
“That’s awesome!”
“—for two months,” Vic continued. “When I was seven. The first time I tried to break a board, I sprained my wrist. My parents pulled me out of lessons. Doesn’t count, huh?”
What was I even thinking, trying to mount a rescue party? Vic wouldn’t stand a chance against a homicidal tribe of vampires. Ranulf would be strong enough—stronger than most, given his great age—but I had difficulty imagining him even raising his voice. That left me as our only fighter.
But I remembered what the wraith had managed to do to Charity before, the pain and shock on her face as an ice-blue fist plunged into her gut. Could I bring myself to do that? For Lucas, I absolutely could.
Two would be better than one, I thought. Maxie? Maxie, is there any way you can come with us? Do some of that crazy stuff with the ice?
Don’t think so.
If you could come, I’d really appreciate it. We could talk about—about what it is the wraiths want.
You’ll end up talking to us about that sooner or later anyway.
Maxie. Please.
Couldn’t help you if I wanted to, she admitted. For that kind of mojo, we need serious help. We’d need Christopher.
Who the hell was Christopher? Then I remembered the frost man, the powerful figure who had been the very first ghost to appear to me at Evernight, the one who had saved me from Charity. Was he a leader of the wraiths? I didn’t have time to find out. This mysterious Christopher wasn’t here, and that meant his power didn’t matter now.
Don’t worry. That bracelet will hold you no matter where you go. You’re strong.
