Incubus (89 page)

“Go to your room,” Dad said after a moment’s silence had passed.

“Yes.” Thane said, his voice dangerously quiet. “I think you’ve done quite enough for one day.”

I walked numbly down the hall to my room.

This can’t be happening.
The thought kept repeating in my head.
This can’t be happening. This

can’t be happening.

By the time I reached the door to my room, my sight was blurry with tears. Nothing made sense.

Angela had been so clear in her journal. This was our way out of the coming war. It had to be. That

was the justification for
everything
I’d done. Stealing from that shopkeeper. Going behind my father’s

back. Trespassing in Lucas’s mind. Taking the vessel from the Guard.

How could I have been so wrong? I’d gambled
everything
so I could become human. I’d gambled

everything—and I had lost.

I fell onto my bed, curling into a tight ball. Strangely, I found I was too tired, too worn out to cry.

Even that release was denied to me.

I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. Something that didn’t belong here. It pulled my

spiraling thoughts up short. A fuzzy, grey knit skullcap folded neatly on one of my pillows. Royal’s

hat. I picked it up, and a small piece of paper slipped out. I opened the note, and the message inside

stole my breath away. I knew the handwriting. It was the same as the note he’d slipped in Cassie’s

locker.

One night down.

The incubus. The incubus had attacked Royal.

I held the note in one trembling hand. A growing fury chased the exhaustion out of my body,

burning through my veins until even my bones were saturated with rage. He’d tricked me into

betraying everyone I loved in this world. He used me to open the door between worlds. He’d won.

He’d won, and yet he continued to take from me.

I turned, planting my feet on the floor and standing. One night down. Royal wasn’t a Thrall yet. I

could find him. I could talk to him. He’d be weak, but he’d still be Royal. And that meant he could

still be reasoned with. He would tell me who’d attacked him. Royal would lead me to the incubus.

I grabbed a sweater from my closet, thrusting my arms through the sleeves while I crossed the

room. I was halfway to my door before I stopped. I turned, glancing at my dresser. I hadn’t taken them

out since the night Ais had died. It seemed fitting somehow that I’d first hold them again on the

anniversary of her death.

I knelt before my dresser and pulled open the bottom drawer. It was a mass of scarves, belts,

gloves, hats—things I didn’t need often. Things I hadn’t touched since I’d last closed this drawer one

year ago. I reached behind a pile of scarves. My hand closed on the leather sheath, lying where I’d left

it. I pulled it out.

Her blood still stained the hilt.

Flashes of that night crowded out the room around me. The panic, the helplessness, the pain and

fear. I stared at the drops of blood along the hilt, and I noticed a faintly metallic glint to them.

Metallic—like the mixture we’d made at the sanctuary. A chill moved through me.

In a sweeping motion, I pulled the weapon free from the sheath. I thumbed the hidden release.

What looked like one dagger sprang apart into two twining, serpentine blades. They gleamed oddly in

the fading light of day. The blades—like the blades of all Guard weapons—had that peculiar sheen

that always reminded me of gasoline spreading across water; a sort of dirty rainbow swirl somehow

embedded in the metal.

If I found the incubus, I’d be ready. I slipped the daggers back into their sheath, then tucked them

into my school bag. I stood, catching sight of my reflection in the mirror above my dresser. The girl

who looked back at me was pale, with beautiful blue eyes and long, dark hair that gleamed richly even

in this dim light. But there was something cold and hard in her expression.

I turned away from the mirror, not liking what I saw there. I hurried out of my room and into the

hall. The men were still arguing at the dining table downstairs.

I didn’t have time to deal with them, their bickering, or their interference. I cloaked myself and

descended the stairs. No one heard me. When I reached the front door, I hesitated, risking a glance

back into the dining room. Only Dad was visible, but his back was to the door. No one would notice

me leaving. I pulled the front door open, and slipped into the night.

20 seconds later I was behind the wheel of my car, speeding off toward school.

The campus parking lot was packed. It looked like half the school had turned out for opening night. I

pulled into the first parking spot I could find and killed the engine.

I’d thought this through, and if Royal was even partly himself tonight, he’d be here.

I got out of my car and ran across the parking lot for the performing arts center. Campus seemed

deserted; everyone must be inside watching the show. My shoes slapped against the pavement with a

sharp, staccato sound that echoed across the parking lot. I’d realized on the drive over that I didn’t

know if “one night down” referred to today or last night. If it had been last night, and the incubus had

found Royal again today...
No.
I was going to find Royal first. I wouldn’t let myself consider the

horrible thought that it might be too late to do anything for him.

The lobby was empty. I could hear the musical intro for the second song through the doors to the

theater; the play was well into the first act. I bypassed the theater entrance and headed down the

hallway that led backstage.

The main lights were off in the greenroom, replaced by blue backstage working lights to help the

actors and the crew find their way. And even though they were much dimmer than the lights in the

lobby had been, my eyes needed no time to adjust. I scanned the faces of everyone I passed, looking

for Royal. No luck. I turned to see if he was in the costume closet. The door ahead of me opened, and I

froze.

Cassie emerged from the costume closet with Mr. Hart, her arm curled through his. As I watched,

she gave him a kiss on the cheek, then slipped into the chaos of backstage, ready with the mantle that

Guinevere wore in the next scene. I felt my blood run cold. All the denials, all the secrecy—but what I

was seeing seemed pretty clear.

Mr. Hart watched her go. His eyes swept over the crowd of students, all busy with their jobs for the

show. Then he saw me and froze.

I hurried after Cassie, catching up to her in a few strides.

“Braedyn?” Surprise flashed across her face. “What are you doing backstage? We’re in the middle

of the—”

“Where’s Royal?” I asked, cutting her off.

She read the urgency in my eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Is he here?”

“No,” she said slowly. “He missed crew call. I tried to reach him but—” her eyes searched my

face. “Something’s wrong. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know yet,” I said. “You—you should focus on the show. I’ll look for him.”

“Tell me what’s happening,” she said, grabbing my arm before I could escape.

“Shhh!” The stage manager, hunched over an annotated script, shot us a withering look and jabbed

his finger at the stage, just beyond the double doors in front of us. He held a finger to his lips and

gestured for me to leave. “Scene change in two pages,” he whispered to Cassie.

Cassie looked torn, but she grabbed me by the arm and led me away from the stage, oblivious to

the stage manager’s panic behind us.

“I knew something was wrong,” Cassie breathed.

“When’s the last time you saw him?” I asked.

“Last night,” she answered. “He was working costumes backstage so I could watch the dress

rehearsal. He was supposed to come tonight to help me prep, then he was going to watch the show—”

A sudden thought sprang into my head. “He said something about a date—”

“What?”

“A date to his brother’s wedding,” I said.

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever met Royal’s guy?” I asked. Cassie shook her head. Another student dressed all in

black tapped Cassie on the shoulder.

“10 seconds, Cassie,” she said. Cassie looked at me, worry distorting her features.

“Go,” I said. “I’ll find him.”

Cassie didn’t look happy, but she nodded and left.

I glanced back to the costume closet. Mr. Hart was still standing there, watching me. After a

moment, he approached me. “Braedyn,” he said. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

“Why is that?” I asked, thrown.

“I thought you’d want to be with your friend. I imagine he must be pretty traumatized.”

Royal’s face flashed across my thoughts. Mr. Hart gave me a look full of pity.

“He seems like a nice kid, I hope he makes it through. Something like that—it could scar a person

for the rest of his life.”

Fury darkened the corners of my vision. Mr. Hart laid a hand on my shoulder. I recoiled.

“
Don’t touch me,
” I hissed. “I know what you are.”

Mr. Hart’s eyes went flat and cold. He glanced around. Suddenly the crew leapt into action for the

scene change. No one was paying any attention to us.

“All right, Braedyn,” Mr. Hart said. “You want to do this now? Fine.” He grabbed me by the arm

and pulled me into the costume closet. I jerked out of his grasp and stumbled back into the worktable.

Mr. Hart closed the door and flipped the lock. He turned to face me, spreading his hands wide. “There.

No one will interrupt us. Why don’t you get it all off your chest.”

I fought to keep the fear out of my eyes. “Keep your hands off of my friends or— or—” but what

could I do to an incubus?

“I’m not loving the threats,” he said. “Why can’t we talk about this like two reasonable people?”

“Reasonable?” I stared at him, incredulous. “You still think we’re on the same side?”

“We are,” he said. “You just can’t see it yet.”

Something inside of me snapped. I lunged for him, fueled by the helpless rage I’d felt since

finding Royal’s hat on my bed.

I shoved him hard, and Mr. Hart hit the ground, curling his arms around his head. “What the

hell?!”

I dropped onto his chest, straddling him. In the same motion, I pulled the dagger out of my bag.

“What did you do to Royal?!”

Mr. Hart eyed the dagger, but he kept his voice calm. “Put it down, Braedyn. I don’t believe you

want to hurt—” but his voice cut off as I grabbed his hair and leveled the dagger at his throat. He

squeezed his eyes shut.

“Why?” I asked. “Why him?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he whispered, looking for all the world like a terrified

victim.

“Don’t lie to me!” I jerked his hair and his eyes flew open. “You completely shielded your mind.

No human could do that. Most Lilitu can’t do that.”

Mr. Hart met my gaze. “Please. Put the knife down.”

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” I said. I glared straight into his eyes—and suddenly his

pupils began to dilate.

“I don’t know what you want to hear,” he whispered.

I gripped his hair tighter, but a sick fear was working its way into my stomach. His pupils—what if

I’d made a terrible mistake? There was one way to test him—to know for sure.

“
Tell me the truth,
” I said. “
What did you do to my friend?
”
The call
burrowed through the air