My father had kept Jo and me hidden in foster care from the likes of Edmund Rain for years because Edmund wanted to use my sister and me as lab rats for our DNA in his attempts to build his own personal army of vampires. I’d hated my father for so long, thinking that he abandoned us. But over the years, I’d come to understand his motives. Hell, I was in the thick of things with my own children. Their lives were at stake for the same reasons Jo and I had been hunted.
“You knew Edmund Rain?” she asked.
I stretched my neck. “Enemy number one. Five years ago, he teamed up with my uncle Patrick and tried to develop a serum for genetic altering, much like Adam wants to do. My uncle was a renowned genetic scientist with his own thirst for immortality that he failed to capitalize on before his vampire father died. Anyway, he used my sister and me as his test subjects. As a result, he was successful in transforming two people out of hundreds.”
Silence dangled for a beat.
“There’s one thing I’m confused about,” I said. “Why would Maeve agree to help Adam when she has her own agenda?”
Agnes sighed. “She needs a coven and their collective magic to perform the blood ritual for the Mystic ceremony. We don’t have many Monroes left, and Maeve has pissed off the witch community. Adam—or rather, Roman—thinks he can find powerful witches for Maeve.” She lifted a shoulder. “For now, Maeve has agreed to stop her quest against Layla. Once Adam has his brother and the scientist, then he and Roman will give Maeve her coven.”
Roman certainly had a large network of contacts in his blood cartel business. I would imagine that if Roman didn’t know many witches, he had clients who did.
“Do you think the Mystic prophecy will give a witch the ultimate power or even come to fruition? And what does it mean by ultimate power?”
My questions went by the wayside at the sound of Layla moaning, which kick-started my damn black heart.
“Baby doll. Thank fuck.”
Layla rose up on her elbows, looking in my direction. “Sam? Where am I? Where is Luna? Orion?” She glanced at her arm. “Why is there an IV of blood in my arm?” Her eyes widened. “Roman. I will kill him.” She tugged on her restraints, her blue eyes flashing to a sunburst yellow.
My jaw came unhinged. “What’s the significance of yellow eyes? Aren’t they supposed to be orange?”
“Not sure, but I would go out on a limb and say it’s related to the Mystic,” Agnes said in a rush. “Layla, listen to me. You can free yourself, but I need you to believe that you’re a Monroe witch. We don’t have much time. First, you’ll need to place a drop of your blood onto one of the cuffs around your wrist.”
Layla’s pulse was creeping upward. “It’s kind of hard to do without the use of my hands.”
“Baby doll, bite your lip and drip it onto the metal cuff.”
“Help me, Sam,” she said.
“I can’t. Either Maeve or her daughter Patricia put a spell around the cages. The same one that was on the entrances in the house to ward off vampires. I can’t get to you. You can do this, baby doll.”
Wincing, Layla bit her lip. Once the blood dribbled out and down her chin, she struggled to sit up as she lifted her arm just enough that her mouth was barely over the cuff.
“Do the same to other restraint.” Agnes’s tone brooked no argument.
Layla obeyed. “Now what?”
Agnes began talking with her hands. “In order for this spell to work, you have to believe, Layla. See the process—the cuffs falling from you. Repeat after me. My blood is pure. My blood is strong. I unlock these chains, so let it be done. See it, believe it, and repeat it until you’re free.”
Layla followed orders as I watched in quiet fascination. If anyone had told me I would fall in love with a beautiful witch, I would’ve thought they were crazy. But as I fixated on Layla, her auburn hair shaping her gorgeous face, her full lips chanting the spell over and over again, and her magic filling the grungy room, I felt as though I was in heaven rather than hell. I swore I could actually see a soft glow of yellow around her.
One of the cuffs clicked open, then the other.
Layla hurriedly yanked out her IV, climbed off the table, and fell on the floor. “I’m fine.” She swore as she rose. “My legs are weak.” She came over to us slowly, her yellow eyes glistening. “How do we get out of here?”
I reached up and flattened my hands on the invisible barrier separating us. “You need your banshee scream to shatter the spellbound barrier between us. Then we’ll figure out the next step.”
She mimicked my move, our hands mirroring each other’s as if our palms were touching. “This is weird. I don’t see anything between us, yet I can’t feel your hand.” She knocked on the air—or rather, the invisible wall—on both sides of me. Then she tried to walk into it only to stumble backward. “This spell is different from the one Maeve put on the doors to the house to prevent vampires from entering.”
“It is,” Agnes said. “The spell around the cages is the same one Maeve cast on the door to the bedroom Orion and Luna had been in. Remember, Layla? You couldn’t get into that room until you shattered the barriers with your banshee scream.”
Layla stepped away. “All right. Here goes.” She inhaled and exhaled a few times and was about to rock this place with her Hollywood lungs when the metal door groaned.
Patricia glided in with an older woman wearing an evening gown who resembled Patricia. That had to be Maeve Monroe.
I didn’t know if I should be afraid for Layla’s life or not. Maeve was an older witch with years of practice under her belt. I growled my hatred of and annoyance at the fact that I was dead in the water and couldn’t do squat to help my wife. But I had trust and faith that Layla could give Maeve a run for her money.
