It takes my eyes a second to focus and when they do, I see Jean-Claude on top of me. He glares down and growls, lips peeled back, saliva dripping from his extended teeth. He’s the most frightening thing I’ve ever seen.
Riddle roars a high-pitched battle grumble, that of a baby lion, and throws himself onto the count’s back, gripping Jean-Claude’s cloak with his talons and beak. He tries to pull the count away from me, to no avail.
Jean-Claude moves in a blur and catches my golem by the neck. The little guy squirms as the count shakes the living tar out of him. The vampire does what they seem to do best—he bites down on my little golem as Riddle scratches at him, his wings flapping like mad.
“No!” I scream as I reach out, tears already blurring my eyes.
Riddle screeches but the little guy isn’t animated by blood. Nothing comes out of his puncture wounds. That’s because he’s animated by soul. My soul.
The count pulls Riddle out of his mouth and gags.
“Serves you right!” I ball my fist and punch him in the face.
Nothing really happens. In fact, nothing happens at all. Jean-Claude doesn’t even shift from the impact. Meanwhile, my balled fist burns like hell and I’m afraid I might have broken my knuckles.
Jean-Claude gives me a what did you do that for? glare.
“Let him go!”
Jean-Claude flicks my little golem away and Riddle goes flying—looking like he was just catapulted. Riddle’s back hits a tree and he lands on the ground with a squeak. Then he doesn’t make another sound and his wings don’t flap… nothing.
“Jean-Claude?” My plea is a whine as I look up at the immense vampire. Obviously he’s not in control of himself. I know that much. The necromancer is at the wheel and, for some reason, the necromancer wants me dead. “Don’t do this.”
His face is a war zone. The shades of battle flip his facial features in a continual fight for dominance between the necromancer and himself. I’m fairly sure the necromancer is winning or maybe he’s already won. I’m also willing to bet I can see what’s going on beneath the shadows of Jean-Claude’s veil. I was able to see through it before, so I should be able to see through it again.
My fleeting thoughts are put on hold as the count pins my shoulder to the tree behind me, eyes glowing red as his fangs lengthen. He looks, for all intents and purposes, like he’s ready to bite my head off. Still, he hesitates. And I can see something in his eyes—a fight. He’s struggling against the necromancer, against the foreign control. Jean-Claude doesn’t want to do this—he doesn’t want to hurt me. He wants to protect me, just like he has from the moment I arrived here. It’s the necromancer influencing him.
Doing my best not to trigger his vampire instincts, I do everything in my power to remain calm.
“Ev… er… ly…” Jean-Claude slurs his voice, his elongated fangs pinching his lips. They’re too long for coherent speech, but he’s trying.
This isn’t the vampire who has done nothing but hold himself back since I met him. This isn’t the patient vampire who told me to be who I am while he restrained himself. This isn’t the vampire who endured as I fell into his arms, face-first, during a bumpy flight. Jean-Claude wouldn’t hurt me. But this isn’t Jean-Claude.
The face within his face—the one I’d seen on the first day we met, the one that scared me in the hall, starts to become more present in his features. It’s the necromancer. He must be taking over Jean-Claude, his power growing, which is why I can suddenly see him so much more clearly.
“Don’t do it,” I warn but it’s more a plea. “I know you’re still in there, Jean-Claude. He can’t have taken over you completely.”
The vampire shakes his head, like someone trying to clear his thoughts. Conflict paints his expression. He’s grappling for control. And from the looks of it, this is a fight to the death. The count isn’t winning, but he isn’t losing, either.
Somehow, Jean-Claude gains the upper hand and flings his body to the side, giving me time to break away from him and run. Yes, I can move, but terror slows my limbs and fogs my mind. And there’s a bigger problem—there’s nowhere to go.
Instinct takes over and I bolt through the trees. The woodland has always been my friend, and I need nature now more than ever. I run blindly, not really caring which way I go. Just as long as I can get away from him.
I stop for breath underneath one of the massive trees. The scrape of nails over my head catches me off guard and with a sinking feeling in my stomach, I look up. Jean-Claude stares down at me as he clings to the tree above, looking at me with this detached, curious fascination. And his expression scares me to my marrow. I don’t know how he got up there—I didn’t hear him moving through the air. It was like he just appeared.
I feel my heart stop for a moment and then it begins racing.
Before I know it, I’m pinned against another redwood trunk and looking into glowing red eyes. His speed is mind-boggling. Vampires are the ultimate hunters—fast, strong, stealthy.
“Everly.” it isn’t the count saying my name, but the necromancer. “You’re hiding something.”
“Hiding?” I squeak. My heart is pounding and I’m breathing fast. I can’t ever remember being
