Wicked Vampire Prince by Bella Klaus

Chapter Nineteen

Pain lanced through my chest as though someone had skewered the doll. It rose to the back of my throat and coated my tongue with bile. I stared at the voodoo doll, the edges of my vision turning red.

The living room, all its golden furniture, the designer luggage and packages surrounding me faded into insignificance. My magic rumbled through my chest like a thunderstorm, complete with flashes of white lightning.

Ragged breaths tore through my lungs. How dare Draco take away my free will? How long had he planned on keeping me lusting after him with this doll? Until we had crossed the wards, after we’d reached our destination? He could have planned on controlling me until I’d fallen in love or holding me captive for the rest of my life. I no longer cared.

“Draco.” I tried to keep the fury from my voice, but it was like holding back a hurricane.

He didn’t answer, and for once, I was relieved. If he was still having problems with the wardbreaker, then I had time. Time for what, I wasn’t sure.

I placed the doll into the box and rushed across the room to the Hatch. After flinging its door open, I navigated to the list of stores in alphabetical order, to find Voodoo Sorcellerie close to the end.

It was one of the few stores with full stock, with a black home screen that offered doll kits, or custom effigies for ten times the price. The final option was a la carte, where the doll maker would enchant the effigy with the body parts of a victim within twelve hours, but for a hundred times the cost of the kit.

A snarl reverberated in the back of my throat. It was no wonder Draco had kept me asleep for so long.

I selected a custom doll with beige skin, dark-brown curls, brown eyes, and a chest cavity filled with fake blood. After charging it to Caliban’s account, I closed the door and waited.

My gaze dropped to the wooden box that contained my wax miniature. After flipping it open, I tickled its left foot, only to feel the sensation of feathers on my sole.

Shit. The existence of this thing was dangerous.

“Open your mouth,” I said.

Nothing happened.

Somehow, the doll maker had keyed the effigy to only respond to Draco’s orders. I had to deactivate it before he returned and before someone used it to hurt me.

I closed the lid and clutched the box to my chest. Draco couldn’t know I’d discovered his plan. The last thing I needed right now was a fight with another vampire. I wasn’t sure if killing Draco would mean my death. Even if it didn’t, my mind was still too addled from being under his spell to even consider causing him pain.

That didn’t mean I would stick around and become his slave or whatever he wanted.

But what on earth was I going to do next?

The options were simple:

One, deactivate the doll.

Two, get the hell away from Draco.

Three, once he left Logris, I would find a way to clear my name.

I blew out a long breath. Making a voodoo doll was simple enough. All you needed were samples from the victim and a neutral material such as straw or cloth to shape into an effigy. Wax was best because it was quick and easy to mold, and it was less likely to rot.

Breaking the spell was tricky and required a lengthy incantation in the same language in which the original was cast. Alternatively, a more powerful witch could override the controls and break the magical link between the doll and its victim.

My gaze darted to the Hatch. The word ‘sorcellerie’ suggested that the caster spoke French or Creole or any of the numerous dialects associated with the language. I had no way of working out which they’d used or if they’d employed an incantation in Latin or Ancient Greek.

The Hatch pinged, making my heart leapfrog to the back of my throat. I spun back to the door, opened it, and pulled out a package of brown paper wrapped in string.

With the most careful of movements, I unwrapped the new doll, pulled it out of its box, and replaced it with my doll. Then I put the new one in the old box, wrapped it up again, and took it across the room.

“Draco?”I asked.

He didn’t reply, and I exhaled a relieved breath. After placing the customized doll into the trunk along with Draco’s other purchases, I pulled out a bag from Victoria Sacre Bleu and hurried into the bathroom, where I changed into a high-necked wool dress with long sleeves in a purple similar to the shade Mother Hecate preferred.

I stared into the mirror blew out a long breath. With this hood covering my hair, I looked too similar to my wanted poster to not get caught within ten minutes of stepping outside the mansion. I pulled it off, fluffed out my curls, and forced my fears into a grin.

“There,” I said to my reflection. “Now, you look nothing like that wanted nun.”

Next, I called an Überwald Achtung from the Hatch and changed into the new outfit. When the door pinged, indicating that my cab had arrived, I stepped out of our suite and walked through the empty hallway of Caliban’s mansion.

Outside, the air was fresh and carried the scent of blossoms. Caliban lived on one of the streets that branched off from Caedes Road, the boulevard of cherry trees that led to the palace.

The houses opposite were detached, five-story mansions, each with a small front garden and bordered by trees. Sunlight filtered down through low-hanging magenta clouds. I wondered if this was the wardsmiths’ attempt to make up for the lockdown.

A black Volkswagen pulled in at the roadside. As I descended the steps that led to street level, the front passenger window wound down, and I gazed into the lime-green eyes of the same driver who had picked me up days ago, when I had escaped Draco in that motel.

He leaned across the front seat. “Guest of Caliban Stephano?”

My steps faltered. I hoped he didn’t recognize me. “That’s right.”

“And you’re going to Templeside Allotments?”

“Yes, please.” I placed a hand on my chest. It was a long shot, but the only people I knew who were powerful enough to break the enchantment on the doll were the nuns.

The driver tilted his head to the side. “Have I met you before? You sound familiar.”

“I don’t think so,” I said in a deeper voice. “Maybe you’re mistaking me for that girl from the TV.”

His eyes narrowed and he stared at my face for what felt like an eternity before giving me a curt nod. “Come on, then. The meter’s running.”

It was too soon to exhale a relieved breath. Too soon because Draco could arrive at any moment and pull me out of the back of the cab. Or one of Caliban’s friends could turn up and wonder why his friend was missing. Or the driver could pass one of my wanted posters and recognize my face.

Clenching my jaw tight enough to strain my facial muscles, I opened the door and slid into the back seat.

The drive from Caliban’s mansion to Striga took less than ten minutes, and I still hadn’t formulated a way to explain myself. The doll thrummed in my inside pocket with the movement of the vehicle, and fed back a sense of motion sickness that made my stomach clench.

“You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world,” the driver said.

“Feels like it,” I muttered.

“Want to talk about it?” The rearview mirror reflected his twinkling green eyes. “Nothing you say in the back of an Überwald Achtung is admissible in a court of law.”

I bristled at the implication that I was a criminal, even if it was true on multiple counts. Murder, harboring a known fugitive, and obtaining money by deception. Because even if fate said I was Draco’s mate, my heart said that I most certainly was not.

“There’s nothing to say.” I held my lips in a tight line.

He raised his shoulders. “Suit yourself, but in your position, I’d just tell the truth and throw myself at the enforcers’ mercy.”

I shook my head. “Why on earth would I want to—”

Realization hit me across the head with a wooden box. I didn’t have to confess anything to Draco, to the enforcers, or the vampires. If I showed Mother Hecate the box and told her what happened, she and the priestesses could set me free.

Draco had abducted me, bitten my neck, and placed me under an enchantment. They didn’t need to know the doll was only manufactured last night. They also didn’t need to know that he’d gotten the idea to use black magic from me. I just needed to be economical with the truth.

“Actually, you’re right.” I leaned back into my seat and relaxed.

The driver chuckled. “See what I mean? Confession is good for the soul.”

He pulled out into the gates of a huge allotment, and I stepped out of the cab and clutched the front of my cloak as though that might protect the doll.

The sun hung low in a sky of wispy clouds, lengthening the shadows across the green space. I stepped through the gates and kept my head down, hoping no one would notice me rushing through the paved paths that separated the plots.

Templeside was one of the many community gardens in Striga that the Witch Queen made available to its residents. Since most of our kind lived in tiny cottages piled atop each other, we needed somewhere to grow the food and herbs and other plant-based items essential to practice magic.

“Hey,” someone shouted from several feet away.

I flinched and quickened my pace. A cool wind blew through the allotment, bringing with it the mingled scents of pungent herbs. I waited for the person to call out again, and when they didn’t I exhaled the longest breath of relief.

Enforcers would be watching the temple gates, but I doubted that they would put surveillance on the tunnels we used to transport produce from this place to the kitchens.

As I hurried toward the largest plot at the back, witches and wizards rose from their vegetable gardens and stared after me, which was understandable since I was dressed as though I was about to step onto a yacht. I forced my head high, but couldn’t stop my gaze from darting from side to side for signs of people in black armor, and I continued to the patch of land allocated to the temple.

It took up half the allotment, mostly because we were the largest family grouping in this part of Striga. Elderly nuns and a few novices in black legging and knee-length tunics tended to rows of fruits and vegetables growing in neat lines.

Up ahead was the wooden shed they used to store garden equipment and transport produce to the kitchens through a chute that worked with pulleys. I held my breath, hoping for fate to send a distraction so they didn’t notice me walking past.

The nuns each stopped to stare at me as I passed, and my insides twisted into knots. Nobody spoke, nobody screamed that I was a wanted woman, perhaps out of shock or a sense of sisterhood. Whatever was holding their silence, I would be forever grateful.

As I continued to the shed, a thin figure stepped into my path. She glared at me through eyes so pale they looked like water.

“You’ve got a nerve to show your face here dressed like a scarlet woman,” Richelle hissed.

“Out of my way,” I muttered, keeping my voice low.

She folded her arms across her chest and raised her pointed chin. “Not if you’re planning on using the chute to worm your way back to the temple.”

“That’s not for you to decide.” I stepped to the side and walked around Richelle. “You’re not Mother Hecate.”

Richelle jogged backward, her pasty features twisting with contempt. “I always knew you were a sneak, but a vampire lover? They’re saying you helped Prince Draconius escape from the palace dungeon.”

“If you believe that, then you’re as stupid as you look.”

Her mouth dropped open. “That was uncharitable.”

“We were all picketing Salon Sinn at the time.” I brushed past Richelle and placed a hand on the doorknob. Pausing, I turned to meet Richelle’s hateful gaze. “Before you scream or pull one of your usual stunts to get me into trouble, think about the consequences.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Anyone who breaks the law deserves punishment.”

“And what about the rest of the Sisters?” I asked.

Richelle flinched. “What are you talking about?”

“The Supernatural Council is willing to execute the pack or clan or coven of anyone harboring Prince Draconius. All the Sisters affiliated with the Temple of Light count as a coven.”

Her mouth gaped open like a fish, and her eyes bulged.

With a curt nod, I stepped into the shed.

Pinewood lined the walls and floors and roof, giving it the appearance of a sauna, except for the array of metal tools hanging on the left wall. Wheelbarrows lined the right, beneath shelves upon shelves of boxes containing fertilizer seeds and other useful items.

Ignoring Richelle, who followed me like the ghost of a vengeful nun, I continued toward the back. The door at the other end of the shed was half as tall as usual, but equally as wide, and housed a cupboard large enough to fit four barrows.

“Why are you bringing trouble to the temple?” Richelle hissed.

I turned around and met her gaze. It was a reasonable question, considering the Witch Queen was always looking for ways to discredit Mother Hecate, but I’d run out of options.

What was the point of reasoning with a vampire who had enthralled me the first time we met and controlled me with a doll the second? If I gave Draco a third chance to get at me, I might lose what was left of myself.

“If they tell me to leave, then I’ll go,” I said to her.

“Don’t think I won’t tell them you’re coming.”

With a sad smile, I said, “I’m counting on it.”

Twenty minutes later, I emerged in the kitchen to find Mother Hecate and Sisters Lindsay and Mariah were already waiting for me, their arms folded across their chests, their faces etched with disapproval.

Normally, the scent of cooking would fill the air, and dozens of nuns in white tunics and leggings would bustle to and from the stainless-steel appliances and counters.

Even though pots and pans sat atop the stoves, and half-filled bowls covered the surfaces, there wasn’t a trace of scent or movement. It was as though the trio had performed some kind of preservation magic over the kitchen’s activities, so I wouldn’t pollute the food with my presence.

My heart sank, but I schooled my features into an even mask. When Mother Hecate’s indigo eyes blazed, all the moisture sizzled from my throat, leaving their membranes as dry as two slices of burned toast. I swallowed hard, but the motion only made me cough.

“Mariah,” Mother Hecate said in a voice more soothing than any balm. “Please bring Iyana some water.”

The older priestess walked to the sink and poured me a glass before setting it down on the nearest counter.

“The Witch Queen’s enforcers are crawling across the grounds,” said Mother Hecate. “Do you know what she will do to your Sisters if one of them finds you here?”

“I’m sorry.” I grabbed the water and took several long drags, letting the cool liquid moisten my throat. No matter how much I drank, it did nothing to cleanse my tongue of bitterness.

“Explain yourself,” said Sister Lindsay.

I reached into the inside pocket of my coat, extracted the box, and flipped it open.

The two priestesses’ mouths gaped open, their eyes widening, but Mother Hecate just gazed at me through glistening eyes.

“This was how the vampire controlled you?” Her voice broke.

Nodding, I clamped my lips together and forced down a torrent of guilt from letting them believe he’d used the doll all along. “When you tracked me down to that cottage in Striga, I was high on vampire blood.”

Mother Hecate squeezed her eyes shut and bowed her head. “Forgive me.”

My stomach plummeted to the kitchen floor and rolled beneath the counter. Had she already reported my location to the enforcers? I placed a hand over my heart, holding it steady, but the panicked organ wouldn’t stop throwing itself against my ribcage.

I stepped back, ready to bolt. “Why would you ever need my forgiveness?”

A tense silence filled the air for several frantic heartbeats. I locked gazes with the other two priestesses, who continued to gape at me through wide eyes. They were probably surprised I was still functioning while under the control of the doll, but Draco only used it to make me obey direct commands.

Finally, Mother Hecate spoke. “Sister Mariah said we needed to try again, but I told her you’d made up your mind.”

All the tension drained from my muscles, and my shoulders sagged several inches. Shame slithered through my insides and wormed its way up my throat. Why on earth had my mind jumped straight to betrayal, when it was me spinning a web of half-truths?

“Please, don’t feel bad,” I murmured. “He really was my fated mate.”

Mother Hecate’s brows drew together. “Are you sure?”

I nodded. “It’s a long story, but can you break the enchantment on the doll before he realizes what I’ve done and commands me to return?”

All three women sprang into action and hurried to the counter. I stepped back from the effigy and chewed on my bottom lip. If I had any other options, I wouldn’t have come, but Draco would return at any minute.

Mother Hecate chanted a white magic spell in Ancient Greek that called upon the water element to wash away darkness. The other priestesses added their words to the chant, but a few verses behind the goddess.

I tilted my head to the side. It was like when Sister Mariah got us to sing Row, Row, Row Your Boat in different parts to make a harmony.

A sharp pain pierced my chest. I doubled over, placing a hand on the stainless-steel counter for support. Black smoke rose from the doll’s chest cavity and gathered at the ceiling like a tiny storm cloud. I glanced up to find thin tendrils of dark vapor streaming from my parted lips.

Draco must have felt something like this during the earthquake that had broken his doll. My heart clenched. He must have been so confused to suddenly learn he had a fated mate who had subjected him to such betrayal.

I clenched my teeth and squeezed my eyes shut. Why was I feeling bad for that blood-sucking bastard? None of this would have happened if he hadn’t continued to abduct me.

“Yana?” Sister Mariah placed a large hand on my back and handed me another glass of water. “Drink this. It will wash away the last traces of black magic.”

I downed its entire contents in a single gulp and exhaled a long breath. “Thank you.”

Mother Hecate rounded the table and placed both hands on my cheeks. “When we took you in, we had no idea fate would ever match you to a vampire.”

It took a moment for the implications of her words to sink in. Vampires and witches were completely different species. They might be able to form bonds of love, but bonds of fate? Mother Hecate was suggesting that I was different. Which would make sense, because I felt like an outsider. But what about me could ever match with a vampire?

“What?” I cleared my throat. “What are you talking about?”

“Is the vampire still in your head?” she asked.

I pulled back. “Not at the moment, but that’s because he went somewhere that blocks all kinds of communications.”

“Let me escort you to the hospice.”

“But I don’t need a detox.”

Her lips curved into a smile that was more pitying than sympathetic. “If the vampire bit you, then we need to extract the thrall.”

I was about to protest, but my jaw clicked shut. The last thing I needed was to continue the conversation about Draco because it might lead to blurting out something about the night I’d created the doll. That level of dark magic would mean an instant excommunication.

“Of course.” I walked toward the door which led to a passageway that joined the kitchen with the hospice.

Mother Hecate stepped back, allowing Sister Mariah to walk me through the short passage and into one of the hospice’s examination rooms. It was the size of my old cell, with short windows high up on the wall and close to the ceiling. An examination table lay wedged along one wall with a chair at its foot and another at its side.

Lowering myself into the nearest seat, I folded my arms on my lap and tried to calm the butterflies in my stomach. If Draco bit me while I was asleep and injected me with thrall, it would take me months to work through my addiction.

“A healer will be with you soon.” Sister Mariah leaned down and placed a hand on my shoulder.

I gazed up into her hazel eyes, which for once were not smiling. “Mariah?”

She tilted her head to the side. “Yes, dear?”

“What do you know about my background?”

“Twenty-two years ago, a vampire came in with her Neutral daughter, saying she had gotten herself pregnant by a wizard.”

I gulped, already knowing where the story was going. “The baby was me?”

She nodded. “The children of Neutrals often develop the magic of their non-Neutral parent, so we all expected you to be a wizard or a witch.”

“But I use magic just like anyone else who lives here.” I spread out my palms.

“True,” she said, “But one side of your family are vampires. Cross-species matings are rare, and even if you wield the magic of a witch, you are a hybrid.”

“That means I’m a vampire.” I slumped back into my seat and sighed.

She shook her head and offered me a kind smile. “Don’t think of it like that.”

“How can I not, when I’ve devoted half my life to stopping them from preying on others?”

“Have you ever thirsted for blood?” she asked, her brows raised.

“Of course not.”

Sister Mariah’s smile widened. “And that is what makes you a witch and a Sister of this temple.”

As she swept out of the room, I stared down at my hands and tried to make sense of everything that had happened. It was bad enough for fate to mate me with a blood sucker who used every method at his disposal to bring me under his control, but I was also a murderer and a part-vampire?

A knock sounded on the door.

“Come in,” I muttered.

It opened with a creak, and I raised my head to lock gazes with a familiar-looking vampire. I’d seen that face on Supernatural Media, on television, in courtrooms. But that wasn’t what made him so familiar. He had the same high cheekbones, full lips, and strong jaw as the bastard who called himself my mate. The same mahogany hair, bronze skin, and air of danger.

The only difference was their eyes. The vampire staring at me had irises the color of violets, while Draco’s were as blue as forget-me-nots with a hint of green.

This was King Valentine, Draco’s nephew—the vampire under the control of a phoenix who wanted to sacrifice Draco’s soul to Tartarus.