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He snarled as Collette turned on him, her own eyes wild with bloodlust.
Clamping down on my senses, I dashed out of the clearing and into the corridor, determined to get as far from them as possible.
Whatever else was out here, it couldn’t be much more dangerous than a pair of well-trained vampires deep in bloodlust.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
KANA
Never had I been so grateful for my Grand-mère’s training.
She’d made me run blindfolded through forests dozens of times, honing my hearing and ability to recognize scents, as well as the sixth sense of visualizing energy so I didn’t crash into trees.
Those were the skills I drew on, speeding through an unfamiliar maze with unknown creatures lurking. I knew I wanted to put distance between myself and the other team, and I knew I didn’t yet feel any pricks of stomach pain that might identify a gobbelin.
Anything else, I could handle.
The night quieted around me as I reached another dead-end that spread into a smaller field of flowers than I’d crossed to get here. It was more like a garden than a field, and when I paused to get my bearings and assess my options, I realized there was only one type of flower planted here - foxglove.
Examining the thimble-sized, hooded flowers clustered on each stalk, I considered if they’d be any use. Surely, they were here for a reason.
They were poisonous to humans and some shifters and other animals, but not vampires. The only thing I could remember about them that was sort of like a prophecy was that they supposedly let you commune with the dead.
I’d always thought of that story as just a children’s bedtime tale, but so many of those had proven to be much more than myth since the Trials had begun.
Maybe I could call Nicolas with them.
Gathering a few handfuls of blossoms, I used a stone from my pocket to grind them into a paste. Smearing the paste on my eyelids, I closed my eyes and began to call for Nicolas, focusing my energy on the magic that might be in the flowers.
Behind my closed eyes, the darkness actually began to take on shape, filling with psychedelic colors and swirling figures dancing toward me. This definitely did not look like the mist. Maybe I’d done the ritual incorrectly, or maybe I was remembering it wrong.
I opened my eyes as whispers began to filter through the labyrinth, but I saw nothing in the darkened garden. The moons hadn’t quite risen overhead, and the sky was still streaked with pale pink and magenta below the navy of the coming night.
Taking a deep breath and gripping the handle of my whip harder, I closed my eyes again and spread my senses wider, searching harder for Nicolas.
A tinkling bell sounded a few feet away, and my eyes flew open.
