Back in the foyer, Lance greets us. “Please, we are ready for dinner now. If you would join us.”
Following him to the dining hall, I pause briefly at the foot of the stairs as we pass.
“What is it?” Cole asks.
“I… I’m not sure,” I say, a bit shaky as an immense feeling of dread washes over me. I move off to the side suddenly.
“Aefre,” CK calls to me, but I ignore him and push open a door. The kitchens. Three maids look slightly startled as I stalk into the room. I head for the door towards the back. They rush forward to stop me, shouting at me in Romanian.
CK catches up with me and pulls me back. “Aefre. What are you doing?”
I stop in front of the door and look at him. He knows as well as I do what this door opens up to. I put my hand on the handle, but he pulls it away, shaking off the women who are trying to stop us.
As expected, it’s locked. Holding my hand up to the heavy wood, I also feel magick. Reinforced wards. Closing my eyes, I pull up my mental map. I see us in the kitchens, and I push out with my mind to encompass the dungeons. Blocked, just like I was at Ponte. I push harder, holding my hand flat against the door. Still nothing. Determined to break through, I put every ounce of my Power behind it, physically pushing against the door as if I might break through it. I hear Constantine saying my name, I feel him touch me and I pull on his energy, giving me an extra boost. He grips my arm in protest as I keep pulling on his ancient source of power, pushing the mental map to expand and show me what I already
know. It breaks through as I break out into a sweat, my knees giving way at the amount of energy I have used. Constantine is still holding onto me, which keeps me on my feet as I whimper in distress.
“Aefre?”
“Liv?”
I hear my name, both of them, a dozen times, but all I can see is the flashback of me being dragged down the stairs from the tower, by my hair, and across these kitchen floors, through this door, down the stone steps and past a number of cells to my very own. It is now currently occupied by a girl, who looks like me. Not just a girl. A Vampire. Not just any Vampire, but a sibling. A charge of my sire’s that looks just like me, that Lance has chained up to a wall in my former cell.
“What is the meaning of this?” Lance thunders as he stalks into the kitchens.
Catching me shaky and off guard, he smirks and says, “If you wanted to go back down there, Lucretia, all you had to do was ask.”
“Who is it?” I yell at him. “Who is down there?”
He looks perplexed. “There is no one down there.”
Grabbing Constantine, I say, “There is someone down there. A girl. Like me. One of yours. She's yours. She looks like me.” I ramble on unable to get control of my thoughts.
Constantine grips both my arms. “Aefre, what are you saying?”
“She’s down there,” I yell at him. “Make him undo the wards. We need to get her out.”
“Lucretia, you are clearly distressed. Perhaps the stress of this new post has you not in your right mind.”
Turning to him, I snarl, “I know what I saw. Undo the wards and get her out of there.”
“There is no one down there, my dear,” he says, his evil black eyes focused innocently on mine.
I know that innocent look. I see it on my sire, our sire, all the time and I don’t buy it for a second.
Turning back towards the door, I close my eyes again and try to force the door open. Only problem is, I don’t really know how. The Power is there and wants to help but I don’t know what to do. Dammit, I slam my palm against the solid wood and feel the wards give a little but then snap back into place.
Turning again to Constantine, I say, “She’s one of yours. She looks like me. Don’t leave her down there.”
CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE
He looks utterly dumbfounded, as do Cole and Devon. Lance just looks mildly amused as if I have lost my marbles. Have I? I wonder. Did I just see myself down there in my memory? I shake my head, not willing to accept that.
Again, I close my eyes and focus. Lance does nothing to stop me, fully confident that his wards will hold, and I won’t get through them.
I see her again, chained to the wall by her neck, as I was, unable to move. Starving, weak as a kitten, so as not to break away from the chains.
“Who are you?” I ask in my head. “What is your name?”