“You understand what I’m saying.” Riven’s eyes outline his intensity. But I don’t admit anything. Not yet.
“Maybe,” I start, but then shake my head as I inhale deeply. There must be a reason Jean-Claude hides himself. And I’m not sure I want to reveal that reason, when it’s really not my business. And I also really don’t want to face Jean-Claude’s anger in case he doesn’t want that reason brought to light.
Riven stands up and starts to pace. “Everly, this is a dire situation. I need to know whatever you know.” He bites his thumbnail as he ping-pongs in front of the fireplace.
“A dire situation?” I repeat.
He nods. “There was such hate between us. Jean-Claude and I have always had our differences, but this… he’s never felt like this. He’s usually just… Jean-Claude. But this last visit… there was something there. Hatred and it was all directed at me. It’s as if…” Riven stops. “No,” he whispers and shakes his head.
His ramblings confuse me. But I watch him work out whatever it is as he rushes to his books. He frantically searches the spines and finally pulls a book out. He mumbles like a crazy sorcerer, flipping pages.
“There…” he points. “Change of attitude. Jerky motions. Incoherent thought. Unintelligible words. Over-aggressiveness.” He snaps the book closed.
“What?” I ask, feeling my heart starting to pound.
He looks at me. “Everly, I believe Jean-Claude is in danger.”
“What kind of danger?”
Riven nods. “I think he’s under the influence of a necromancer.”
“How…”
“Jean-Claude is undead. He’s a master, and they have protections, but a strong necromancer during a weak moment… it’s feasible that he could get into the count’s head. Vampires are prone to…”
The ground shakes. Someone stomps towards Riven’s door. We both turn to look as the door explodes open. The count stands at the threshold, eyes wild, face pale—an unhealthy, pasty pale not the usual never-been-in-the-sun translucence. The count isn’t well.
“Everly,” Riven whispers. “Don’t move.”
Jean-Claude whips his head toward Riven and sniffs the air. I remember what the count said about instincts and disaster. This is Jean-Claude without control. This is the wild, animalistic vampire. This is the hunter. And that makes us…
The vampire slinks around, sniffing the air, squinting. He can’t see. The light, gray as it is, overloads and overwhelms his eyes. He has to rely on his other senses. He comes close to Riven. The headmaster closes his eyes and remains motionless. And then Jean-Claude is in front of me, moving so quickly, he appears as a blur. I jump as a tiny scream lodges in my throat, and a miniscule squeak escapes. In a flash, Jean-Claude is looming over me, sniffing my hair, my shoulder, stopping at my neck and breathing in. He sidesteps behind me and pulls my back to his chest. He crushes my backpack purse between us, hisses and opens his jaw impossibly wide.
“Jean-Claude,” I murmur.
The count twists as if he’s got the spine of a snake, leans over, and his neck cracks so he can face me while still protecting my back with his body. It’s terrifying, which makes the churn between my legs all the more confusing. But even in his instinctual state, he’s trying to protect me… I think. I mean, he hasn’t tried to take a bite out of my neck so there’s that…
If there was any question to his character, this is the raw proof. Yet another monster showing me the textbooks are wrong.
“Jean-Claude, I need you to turn down the aggression a notch or ten,” I say lowly.
The count cocks his head as if my words are fascinating. His eyes are a huge, glowing mini-vortex. His power radiates like heat. He can twist his body, expand it to anything he wants.
There’s running, and Harlow stands at the door, both hands braced on the doorjamb as if he could prevent anyone from leaving.
The vampire lets out a piercing howl that sends papers, debris, and smaller, lighter glass objects towards the door.
“It’s okay.” I pet Jean-Claude’s arm. He’s clearly in distress and I need to use my dryad powers to bring him down again. “It’s okay.”
I feel the tension in the count’s muscles relax. I’m using Beast Sense with a mixture of Calm Emotions to maneuver the situation. It’s working. Calm Emotions is an Enchantment thing. I should totally be going to the Academy of Enchantment, but if Riven is right and the count is under the control of a necromancer, he needs me. They all do. Never let it be said that a dryad turns their back on those they can help.
There’s a tremor of acknowledgment in the count’s arms. I can feel him coming back to himself.
“Everly?”
He’s out-of-sorts and possessive, but he’s reeling himself in.
“Jean-Claude?” Riven remains rooted.
The count grunts. “Stay where you are.”
“I’m just going to open your tomb.” Riven slowly reaches to the underside of his desk, pushing a button. One of the bookshelves slides across, exposing a dark passageway.
The vampire lumbers towards the darkness, dragging me with him.
FIFTEEN♀♥♂♂♂♂EVERLY
“Jean-Claude.” Riven deepens his voice. “There’s fresh blood in the compartment. Leave Everly here.”
Arms tighten around me. “I won’t… she calms me.”
The count might have a rein on his instincts, but he’s clearly not okay.
Harlow steps forward, and Jean-Claude sees the movement immediately. He hisses at Harlow. “Stay back.”
The anguish on the incubus’s face pains me. “You’re not bringing her with you.”
“You don’t command me.”
“Are you saying the great Count, Jean-Claude Von Zarovich, the third, can’t control himself and needs to bring a dryad to his resting place like a scared little boy with a binky?”
Jean-Claude snarls again. Harlow is pulling out all the stops, but it’s pissing off
