As typical, the voice quickly broke through my thin determination. “What do you mean called by the Royals? I’m not called by the Royals!”
You are a fool, boy. Such a fucking waste of time. I am disgusted they chose you. You are nothing more than a doormat. A clueless waste of power doormat.
“For fuck sake! Quit talking in riddles and insults and just tell me whatever you fucking want to tell me, and we can quit this jacked-up game.” Part of me was tempted to run back through the barrier and get this over with. If the voice was going to make my brain implode, might as well get it over with already.
“Finn…” Schwint’s voice was hesitant, probably not wanting to interrupt in case the voice was speaking. “If he’s saying you’re being called by the Royals, we have bigger problems than we thought.”
I waited a moment before responding, expecting the voice to take off again. It didn’t. “What does that even mean, that I’m called by the Royals?”
“It means they want you for something. That they’ve laid claim to you.” The look on his face told me as much, if not more, than his words. He looked more serious than I’d ever seen him. “If they’re laying claim—”
The voice drowned out the rest of his words.For a fairy, the faggot is brighter than I’d given him credit for. Maybe they should choose him instead.
I ignored his goading. “What are they choosing me for?”
It is not your place to ask questions. It is only your place to follow orders.
“What orders?”
It was as if the voice had been waiting for me to ask those two words. His tone still dripped with sarcastic disdain, but the riddles stopped.You are to come to the Vampire Cathedral.
“Why?”
Again, it is not your place to ask questions, only to follow commands. You are to come to the Vampire Cathedral. You are called by the Royals, and apparently, you’re as ready as you’re going to get.
Called by the Royals. I still couldn’t make sense of it. Not that it mattered. Anything to do with the Royals was bad. The voice was right; the “why” of it didn’t matter. There wouldn’t be a reason good enough to suffice. “I’m not going to the Vampire Cathedral.”
The voice’s laughter was genuine this time. True amusement.Ah, that is rich, little warlock. You are a bovine in the chute on its way to slaughter, still believing you have a choice. That you have some power in all of this.
Schwint grasped my forearm. I almost thought he could hear the voice’s words in my head. “Finn, if you’re called by the Vampire Cathedral, you don’t get to say no. You have to do what they say.”
I started to retort, to tell him that there is always a choice, but the voice cut me off before I could even begin.
Again, the fairy shows more wisdom in one thought than you have shown in these many months combined. You will join the Royals at the Vampire Cathedral.
“No. I will not. You just tell them that I’m not interested, that I don’t want anything from them.”
Another laugh.Don’t want anything from them! You don’t want anything from them? Even if I wanted to, I would not relay such a message. I do not crave death, although you seem to have such a desire.
“Tell them whatever you want. I don’t care. I’m not coming.”
Your attitude matches the power that has been ascribed to you, but still much outranks the power that you have learned to wield. You are already on this path, and you will not be able to alter your course. No matter how hard you try.
“I am in charge of my destiny. Not a bunch of fucked-up vampires!”
Seeing you humbled before them will be the only pleasure I have known in many years, and I salivate at the thought of such a delectable morsel. Continue to believe you have a choice in the matter. The Royals’ reach has no limit, and they will easily be able to convince you of your powerlessness in the matter. By tomorrow you will not only know of—
Abruptly, the voice quit speaking. He was there in my mind, then gone. Not faded out like he had before. Not in a dramatic exit with threat or taunt. Just there one moment, gone the next.
Gone like he hadn’t been in months. Not since before the first time I’d come to the Square after Sonia’s death.
Gone in a way that made it abundantly clear that, even when I’d not heard his voice, not felt the latest tortures he’d contrived, he’d been with me the entire time.
He was gone.
I looked over at Schwint, whose face was ashen and terror-stricken. “He’s gone!”
He looked at me like I’d spoken in another language. “Huh?”
