Chapter 53

Yells and cries of alarm rang out from the magical council members.

Pierre snarled and tore toward the group.

“No!” Lynda wasn't sure what would happen if zombie-vamp Pierre bit a witch. Would he kill them or turn them? But she wasn't going to wait and find out. “Pierre, stop!”

“Xpromia!” A red-haired woman held up her hand in front of him. Sparks shot into Pierre's chest.

For a moment, he hunched and stumbled back a step. But then his head snapped up and he dove for the woman.

Lynda raced to them, putting herself between Pierre and the woman. She shoved him back as hard as she could, magic tingling along her palms that gave her strength to move him a few feet. His eyes narrowed, but there was no recognition in the crimson orbs only never-ending hunger and killing.

“I know you probably can't understand me, but you have to fight this, Pierre.” Lynda shooed her hand behind her to get the elders to get out of here.

Feet shuffled and a door opened letting her know they got the message. Magic didn't seem to affect Pierre and she really didn't want any more deaths on her conscience.

“Take my hand and I'll give you my blood freely,” Lynda continued. Hopefully on some level, Pierre was still in there enough to control the zombie part of himself and not drain her dry.

His red gaze shifted from her to the departing witches.

“Let everyone else go because all you need is me.” She smiled and held out her hand. “I can help you.”

With a roar that echoed in her ears and made her heart jump into her throat, he snatched her arm. His fangs broke into her skin as he sucked hard.

Dizziness claimed her faster than she thought it would and she sunk to her knees. Pierre never let go. His skin remained that sickly green color even while the room spun around her.

Her breaths squeezed out as her heart pounded in an erratic rhythm against her chest. She tried to push him off her. Save herself from dying, but he only clamped on her arm tighter. Stars danced before her vision. Her body shaking. If she didn't do something, he'd kill her.

Emotions tangled while she tried to gather her magic to stop him. But the strands were like spider silk and sticking to each other instead of doing what she wanted.

“Stop,” she whispered, pouring everything she could into the word.

Her vision faded around the edges like a tunnel shrinking. Images of her life flashed in jagged pieces in her mind. How she’d never loved before and kept everyone at a distance. To the time she met Andrei and then his brothers. How she fell in love with them without even trying. After all, she and her princes had been through, it was going to end like this?

She struggled to wrench her arm free of Pierre's mouth, but only succeeded in falling on her back with him latched onto her arm. His sucking echoed in her ears.

Blackness filled her vision. She cupped the side of his face. “Promise me you'll forgive yourself later.” She licked her cracked lips. “I love you.”

With her life waning, she pushed the remnants of her magic into him, hoping to break through. The effort sent her spiraling into nothingness.

* * *

A wet rag patted her forehead, but it didn't ease the throbbing ache in her arm. Lynda groaned.

“Wha-What happened?”

Her entire body felt like she'd been steamrolled then thrown into a cement truck and the spinner turned on high.

She couldn't open her eyes. God, even her eyelids hurt...how was that possible? A blanket covered her and she felt like she was laying on a small bed. Where am I?

And her mouth tasted like an old copper penny again. Someone had given her blood? “Pierre?”

“Right here, Luv.” His soothing voice in his thick French accent made her sigh in relief.

“What about Mihnea and Andrei? Did you hurt anyone else?” The words tumbled out of her mouth and she wasn't entirely certain he'd understand her. “The council and Grace, are they all okay?”

She opened her eyes. Grace, Pierre, and two elders were in a small room with her while she lay on the only bed in the room, surrounded by a bookshelf crammed with dusty books.

“We're fine,” Grace answered. “The elders escaped thanks to you.”

That was good...no one else needed to die around her if she could help it. “I could use some of that magical healing energy about now.”

A shuffle of feet sounded. “You've used up their witches’ healing magic here, Luv. Some say it’ll take them days if not weeks to recover completely.” Pierre kissed her cheek. “They have a fresh set flying in from Canada.”

The image of a coven of witches on broomsticks made her laugh. But a sharp pain in her side had her hissing an inhale. Did she have a bruised rib? Witches couldn't teleport and had to travel like everyone else.

“What about Mihnea and Andrei?” She needed to fix them. Have her princes with her again.

“Shhh…rest now,” Pierre whispered.

“No. Not until both your brothers are cured too.” It had been days since she last saw Andrei. The pain in her chest only grew with her fear that he might never wake up. And what about Mihnea? Was he any better or had he turned into a zombie too? She moved to sit up, but the lancing pain in her side stole her breath.

“Let me try and help.” One of the elders, a middle-aged woman moved forward. “I have a little healing magic…if you’ll allow me?”

She nodded. For a moment, she placed her hand on Lynda’s head then one on her side where the sore rib was, and chanted quietly. Heat tunneled into her. She squeezed Pierre’s hand, but soon the pain subsided.

“Thank you.”

“That should get you up and about without too much pain, but you’ll need a complete healing once the others arrive.” The woman removed her hands, smiling but she glanced over at the elder who had been so angry with Lynda during the trial and bowed her head slightly.

More witches. Right now, with the council disbanded because of Pierre, she didn’t know if adding to the elders’ numbers would be good or bad for her. She licked her lips, hating to ask the question but needing to know the answer. “When will my trial reconvene?”

“Leave us.” He motioned and both Grace and the other woman left, closing the door behind them.

Pierre sat on the edge of the tiny bed next to her. His presence calmed her.

Once they were gone, he sighed and dragged a metal chair over to the bed she was resting on. “It’s a hung so to speak. Half want to have you executed immediately, the other half think you’re innocent.”

“What about the fact that I saved you all from becoming zombie food or turning into one?” Maybe she should just have let Pierre eat them.

“All of us are grateful for what you did, but that doesn’t change the issues.” He crossed his arms.

Pierre took a step toward the elder but Lynda kept a hold of his hand. This wasn’t the time to attack. Later, if they had no choice, then maybe.

“So what’s wrong? What do I have to do to atone for my magic tearing down a building and slaying someone?” She sat up, reclining back against the pillows. The stitch in her side still ached, but at least she could move a bit and breathe without stabbing pain.

“Do you know why Pierre’s bite did not turn you into a zombie?”

She picked at a thread on the thin blanket covering her. Back with Boris and Natasha, he’d bitten the Russian half-vamp and she’d turned quickly. But when both bit Lynda, she’d stayed human, but her blood had cured them as it did Pierre.

Looking up, she shrugged. “I guess I’m immune.” Or maybe she was a demon and they didn’t have to worry about turning into anything else.

“No one is immune to that vile virus. Even if he’d bitten everyone here…all of the witches in the world…we’d all be zombies.”

She let go of Pierre’s hand and wrapped her arms around herself. In response, Pierre rubbed her shoulder and upper back to show his support. At least one of them was okay with her being a monster.

“How do you know that?” she asked playing the devil’s advocate. And how had the tainted blood end up here? Was it something they planted in the blood with the Russians? Natasha had said that Boris fell ill after they’d had a party with some new humans. What if those humans were witches in disguise? “Did you all create the zombie plague to get rid of the vampires or something?”

His face colored dark red. “Certainly not! And if any witches were responsible, then I assure you they will be dealt with.”

“What about the missing witches during Lynda’s trial?” Pierre asked.

“That does not concern either of you. They were found guilty of a crime and punished accordingly.”

Lynda swallowed the dry lump in her throat, her stomach knotting up. “Y-you killed them?”

He looked away and she covered her mouth with her hand.

“What did they do to warrant death?” Pierre stopped rubbing her shoulder and took a step toward the elder. “Think that you’re barbaric rules and trials were wrong? Perhaps they were the ones right and y—”

“No!” The elder stood up, his shoulders curling forward. “They conversed with the enemy and created the zombie virus.”

“Enemy? Who?” The witches’ main enemies were vampires and rogue witches. Some even disliked weres. Lynda tucked her legs up underneath her. The desire to grab Pierre and his brothers shot through her. If they thought to slaughter her or her princes, she’d rip them apart.

His face scrunched up as he spat the word, “Vampires.”

Pierre peeled away from her in a flash and had the elder by his throat against the wall. “Tell us everything! Was it my father? Did they do all this to eliminate his Russian rivals and we got caught in the crossfire?”

She wondered the same thing. The witches might have been the ones who put the magical barriers on Dracula’s house too that had been a bitch to escape. “Answer him or I’ll let him bite you, but I can’t guarantee I can get him to stop in time before you die.”

The magician pressed his hands against Pierre. “Abrecha Mincom!”

But nothing happened. His eyes widened as her vampire’s fangs lengthened.

“Answer her or I’ll drain every one of you goddamn witches until we find out the truth.” He cocked his head to the side. “And I’ll let out Mihnea as well. I’m sure he’s famished by now.”

“No, no,” the man trembled. “I don’t know what vampire they were working for. They’d all taken a gag-spell that left them unable to speak or write or communicate any more than that they’d created the virus for the vampire.”

Pierre snapped his teeth at the elder. “Anything else?”

In answer, he shook his head.

Carefully, Lynda climbed out of the small bed. Her legs shook beneath her like she hadn’t eaten in days. She shuffled to Pierre and the elder. “Why didn’t your magic work against him? Was it because of the zombie virus?”

None of the spells the witches who had used magic against Pierre had had much effect. Even her own seemed fairly weak when she’d tried to stop him. Was that the goal of the vampire who hired these witches? To create something that would protect them against a magical attack? Had the side effect been turning them into zombies or had that been the plan all along?

“I-I don’t know why,” the elder whimpered, turning away from Pierre with a cringe.

“Okay.” She turned the elder’s face to hers with her fingers on his chin. “Then why am I immune? Why did you keep Andrei here without telling me first thing? Was it to lure me here to execute me with the pretense of a trial?” Had the guilty witches even had a hearing or had their death sentence been carried out immediately once the truth was discovered?

His mouth twisted in a hard, thin line. Pierre slammed his head against the wall, making him wince. “Y-you carry the power of life and death inside you.”

She stumbled away, the back of her legs hitting the mattress behind her. “So it is true.” Her stomach lurched and she doubled over. Her pulse roared in her ears. “I-I’m a fucking demon!”

How was that even possible? She’d had a mom and dad. Unless they’d adopted her without telling her the truth. But she wasn’t evil or a monster no matter what these witches said.

When she met the elder’s glare, she froze. Hatred filled his face. “No, not a demon. Much, much worse. You’re demon spawn.”

“So she’s like half-demon then?” Pierre whistled, giving Lynda a wink. “And here I thought you were just a crazy witch.”

“She’s no witch!” the elder spat.

Lynda marched over to him and gripped the collar of his shirt in her hands. “Then what the fuck am I?”

His sneer twisted her heart. Why did he hate her so much? She’d done nothing to him or the other witches. Even protected them from becoming zombies.

“You can resurrect the dead.”

“So?” She shrugged. Magic users could do all kinds of things including a few who could summon the dead in a séance or talk to the dead. “Others can too, right?”

“No.” His face darkened to a deep purple. “Only your kind can bring back the dead, and if they were human, you could even control them.” A look of disgust crossed his features. “You’re a filthy necromancer!”