The Offering (The Pledge 3)

“We better get moving,” Eden interrupted. “We have a lot to do before we go.”

niko

“That bitch,” Elena cursed, pacing once more to stand in front of the mantel. She stared into the empty fireplace, a space she’d been contemplating for the past hour, ever since hearing news of her sister’s betrayal. “What could she hope to gain by freeing Xander? What good could she possibly expect to come from this . . . this escapade of hers?” Her fists clenched at her sides and she threw back her head, writhing as she struggled to maintain her composure, her fury getting the best of her. “I needed him. I needed him!” Her shrieks echoed into the yawning black space of the hearth.

Recoiling from her words, Niko tried to ignore the way they knotted around his gut. She was right, of course. Sage had derailed his plans by stealing away with Xander, and now they’d lost some of their leverage. Even if Charlaina came now, they might not be able to coerce her into making the transfer. They’d planned to use Xander as a bargaining chip if she balked.

And after all the time he’d spent convincing Elena how simple it was, that all she had to do was say the words, and she could take Sabara—Layla—from Charlie.

But Charlie had to be willing to release the Essence, and there was no guarantee she would be.

There were still so many things that none of them knew about this process, since no girl had ever survived alongside Layla before. And now Layla and Charlie were so intertwined, so enmeshed in each other’s psyches, he wondered if they even knew where one of them ended and the other began. Niko wasn’t convinced Charlie wouldn’t die when Layla was removed from her. Surely Charlie had considered this as well.

Not that it mattered, really. He had no intention of letting Charlie escape Astonia alive.

If only Charlie hadn’t been so difficult, so headstrong. If only she’d been more willing to share that part of her that was still Layla with him, then he wouldn’t have been here now. Plotting her demise.

“It’ll be okay,” Niko promised, joining Elena, running his hands over the cool skin of her arms in an effort to soothe her. He needed her cooperation. Losing her now would put an end to all of his carefully laid plans. He could feel her quiver beneath his fingertips, and he hoped that meant he hadn’t lost her support. “Xander wasn’t our only option. You know that as well as I. There are other ways to take down a queen. Ways that can be even more beneficial to your people. The peaceful way is less messy, but brute force can be more . . . persuasive. And just imagine it, my love; you’ll be more powerful with two countries under your rule than one. You’ll have more land, more resources. And when at last we capture Charlaina, you’ll be immortal, too.” He pulled her around so they stood face-to-face, and he cupped her chin in his palm. He knew the effect his golden eyes had on her, the same effect they had on most women, and he watched as she succumbed to his molten stare. He settled his mouth over hers, claiming her in no uncertain terms. This body would be Layla’s next host, he told himself, allowing himself to get lost in the taste of Elena.

And when he was sure he’d convinced her, both with his words and with his kisses, he pulled back.

She shuddered, collapsing forward against his chest, and he smiled, knowing he had her exactly where he wanted her. “So, it’s time then,” she affirmed—not a question, just a declaration of fact.

Niko nodded, and expertly untangled her fingers from his—like a master puppeteer. He raised them to his lips in a calculated kiss, reassuring her she was doing the right thing. “What choice do we have? It’s time to stop playing around. Sometimes war is the only answer.”

VIII

Even with all of us working together on separate tasks, Eden was right, it took us the rest of the day to get the bus prepared for our departure.

Eden stayed with Caspar and a group of kids he called “the mechanics” to work on getting the vehicle “shipshape,” whatever that meant. There were a few minor repairs and one major one—something he called a transmission—that would require several parts to be salvaged from other vehicles they had lying around. Eden assured me it was a simple task, and that she’d have it completed by day’s end.

Brook and I had been split up to gather food, much of which still had to be scavenged, or caught and prepared. Brook had gone to collect canned goods and to inventory supplies, while I’d asked to be assigned to a hunting party.

At first I’d thought the idea of hunting sounded like another new challenge—like fighting or riding. But I quickly learned that the animals we were up against, forest creatures that were agile and adept in their own environments, were evasive, and trying to capture them was like trying to capture smoke with your bare fingers.

It was an exhaustive game, and one I quickly learned I failed at miserably.

The others, however—children much younger and smaller than me—seemed to understand things that I didn’t, and watching them was as fascinating as watching an intricate dance with complicated steps I had yet to master. It was as if they’d been born with spears in their hands.

One of the girls who called herself Havana warned me to remain silent by pressing a dirt-caked finger to her mouth. She left me then, in the branches of one of the ancient trees that we’d climbed, as she whooped and hollered, creating a ruckus of her own. She threw herself downward, crashing loudly through the leaves and whipping them into a frenzy.

In the process she sent a family of ground rats scurrying across the forest floor and then set after them on bare feet that seemed to skim across the top of the ground without actually touching it.