“My brother will take you to Crawl.” Her look was almost one of pity, but she, too, turned to follow Geoffrey. With one last look over her shoulder, she added, “Lannan—do not lose her. She means too much to us. And do not let Crawl touch her. You know, as well as I do, that he lives to feed on flesh again, but we dare not let him touch a mortal . . . be they magic-born, human, or Fae. I mean it—you are under strict orders from the Crown. She comes back in one piece, with her mind intact.”

Lannan laughed. “I hear you, sweet sister. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have our fun, now does it?”

“Then do as you please.” Regina shut the door behind her and I was left alone with Lannan.

Chapter 11

Crawl. Lannan was taking me to see Crawl.

Who knew if I’d come back whole? Who knew if I’d ever come back at all? I wrapped my arms around me, shivering. Lannan circled me and I knew he was waiting for me to speak, but I couldn’t say a word.

“What are you thinking, Cicely?” Lannan slowly reached out and lifted my chin so that I was forced to stare at him.

I swallowed, the feel of his fingers on my skin making me breathless and angry. Finally, after a moment, I told him the truth. “I’m afraid. Crawl terrifies me. You terrify me.”

Lannan smiled, slow and seductive. “Good. So very good. You should be afraid of us. But never fret, my luscious. I will protect you from the Blood Oracle. He is my sire, you know—as he is also Regina’s. He was a vampire for far longer than he’s been the Blood Oracle, but two thousand years ago, he underwent the ritual that changed him into what he is now.”

“He really is a seer, isn’t he?” And as I asked, it hit me like a ton of bricks: It wasn’t just Crawl I was afraid of; it was what he might see.

“Yes, he is.” Lannan’s voice was suddenly hoarse and he brushed a flyaway strand of hair out of my eyes. “Crawl is the eyes of the Vampire Nation, as our Crimson Queen is the heart and fist. You fear his words. You fear his visions—but everyone dies, Cicely. If that’s what you fear he might say, remember: There are those of us who’ve come through death and returned.”

“I don’t know if it’s death I fear,” I said softly, pulling away and turning toward the heavily draped window. “I faced it every day on the streets with my mother.”

“Then what do you fear?” His hand crept along my shoulder.

I wanted to shake it off but forced myself to just stand there. “Losing Grieve again. Losing my cousin. Seeing them hurt.”

“Are you truly so selfless? It’s my observation, through thousands of years, that few of the humans, few of the magic-born, are so generous. There’s always an agenda, Cicely. You think I have one and you’re right. But so do you. You don’t help us out of the goodness of your heart. You signed the contract—”

“I signed the contract because you threatened me. Yes, it was self-preservation. I personally don’t give a fuck if you and the Indigo Court kill each other off, but I also know that they hold the advantage, and dealing with you is a lot more palatable than dealing with the Vampiric Fae. Myst is a hurricane bearing down on our shores. You . . . you are the shark in the water.”

“Ha! You still have your sense of humor.” He laughed, then pulled me to him and planted a long kiss on me, his tongue prying my mouth open as he ran his hands over my butt. “I want you. You make me burn.”

“You want me because I don’t want you.” But my words were a gasp on the wind.

“I can make you want me. I can make you beg.” But then he slowly let go. “But first, I must take you to see the Blood Oracle. Do you remember Regina’s admonishments from before?”

I wanted to say, How could I forget? but then decided that it might be better to ask for a refresher. So much had happened—and it couldn’t hurt to be cautious. “I think so, but please, refresh my memory.”

“No sudden moves. Never address him directly—ask all questions through me. Never let him stare you down.” He stopped, then abruptly sniffed me and asked, “You aren’t on your period, are you?”

Blushing, I shook my head. It was useless to resist.

“Good, because the smell of menstrual blood drives him into a frenzy.” Lannan grabbed my hand then and pulled me over to the bookshelf. This time I watched closely and took note of the name of the book he used to open the secret entrance. A copy of The Secret Garden. Never knew if I’d need the info someday, but I didn’t say anything. Vampires liked their secrets.

The door opened and we slipped inside. The room was as dark as I remembered it, and the table still sat in the center, the single lightbulb illuminating it from overhead. Magic lived here. Magic deep and old, like tentacles creeping in the dark.

Like Crawl, I thought.

I kept within the field of light. The shadowed corners promised to hold danger. Scuttling things, things that might eat me alive and spit out my bones. On the center of the table rested a crystal, floating above a crimson slab of glowing glass. The first time they’d taken me to see Crawl—before I pledged myself to working with the vampires—I’d seen it, and I’d been too petrified to say a word.

This time, I turned to Lannan. “What is that?”

He gazed at me softly, then, with a pout, shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. Nobody’s ever seen fit to tell me.” A slight edge to his voice told me that he wasn’t all too happy with the situation. “My sister, as much as I love her, doesn’t think I can keep my mouth shut. And Geoffrey . . .” He stopped, his face clouding over. “You might think Geoffrey is your savior, waiting to rescue you from me, but there’s far more to the Regent than you think. Once a warlord, always a warlord. Remember that, Cicely, when it comes to picking your sire. Or your sides.”

I coughed. “I’m not planning on picking a sire. I have no intention of becoming a vampire.”

But Lannan continued as if I hadn’t said a word. “My guess: Either you’ll be forced into Myst’s servitude, or you’ll choose one of us. I recommend me, for obvious reasons, but if you hate me so much, then choose my sister. She’s safer to be around than Geoffrey, though you may not believe me right now.”

He pushed me toward the table and leaned over the crystal, his gaze totally caught up in the spinning crimson lights that began to emerge.

“Take my hand. Now.”

I obeyed, reaching out to clasp his cold fingers. Like a hurricane, the energy began to spin, whirling into a giant eye, and we were caught in the maelstrom. And without further ado, we went sliding through the rabbit hole.

Peeling pages off the calendar, we went sailing through the ether, buffeted by gale-force winds to every side. We were the fence posts caught by the tornado, a boat caught in storm surge, trees crowning from wildfire. I clung to Lannan’s hand, no longer caring who he was—he was a lifeline and if I let go, I knew I’d be lost.

It could have been seconds or hours, but the spinning lights died down and we came to rest in a room I remembered all too well. Crawl’s temple. Huge, reverberating with energy, the chamber stretched beyond my sight line, the ceilings well over thirty feet tall. The walls were a blur of crimson—I’d thought it paper the first time I was here, but now it looked like blood, staining the hall. Benches lined the walls, magical sigils covered the floor, and the scent of ancient magic filtered through every corner, every inch of the temple.

Lannan put his arm around my waist, and for once I did not resist as he led me forward, toward the dais. The walkway was Tuscan gold, but unmarred by magical symbols, and I knew better than to step off the path. All the while, I held back, not wanting to approach the raised platform. I knew who waited, and one visit had been enough.

But then, within a blink and a skip, we were there. Lannan stepped in front of me and, much to my surprise, knelt at the foot of the dais covered in curtains.

“Rise, son of Crawl. The Blood Oracle recognizes you. Stand, Wild One, and beseech. Answers will be offered for payment.” The voice came from behind the curtains, rasped and harsh, the whistle of the wind through ancient ruins, the sound of ghosts on the wind.

Slowly, Lannan stood. “My Master. I come seeking your help.”

And then, he was there, at the edge of the platform. Crawl. The Blood Oracle. The vampire every other vampire revered, perhaps even more than their queen. Crawl, almost unrecognizable—if he’d ever been human, it didn’t show. Crawl, who was more a force than a being anymore.

Bent and twisted, Crawl crept rather than walked, like a bug or a spider. His skin was blackened, charred by some unseen fire that burned from deep within him, his hair falling in clumps of dreadlocks long lignified.

In front of the dais, rising up to his reach, stood a fountain of bubbling blood, ringed by unwavering flames. The blood was fresh, smelling fetid and cloying, and it sounded like a brook. Crawl’s lidless eyes gleamed with a sudden intensity when he saw me standing behind Lannan.

“Her blood—the Oracle remembers the smell of her blood.” His tongue darted in and out of pasty thin lips, and with one bony finger he reached out, pointing at me, his hand shaking. “Give Crawl her blood. Sweet and thick in the mouth. Quickly, son of the Oracle, cut the flesh and make offering!”

Lannan grabbed my wrist and gave me a look that froze any objections I might have had. Regina had used my own blade to cut me, but Lannan just held out his fingernail and ripped a gash in my forearm, then motioned for Crawl to move back.

Crawl stared at the blood dripping down my arm, his dark eyes gleaming. Before Lannan or I could move, he stretched out one of his incredibly long arms and grabbed me by the hair, pulling me up onto the platform with him.

Lannan let out a shriek and scrambled to catch me before Crawl could yank me up on the dais, but he failed and I found myself lying beneath the Oracle, staring up at him. I began to scream as his long nails dug into my shoulder and he leaned over me like some giant praying mantis, his head turning from side to side as he contemplated me like a Happy Meal. I rolled, trying to get away, but he quickly straddled me, holding me down.

Crap. I had to get away because I knew that Crawl was about to take a big bite out of me . . . or at least sink his fangs into me, and who knew where those fangs had been? I struggled, pushing against him, but he was incredibly strong, his thin arms anything but brittle. He leaned in, his teeth chattering at me, eyes burning with hunger.

“This one is dessert. This one is sweet. This one makes the Oracle’s belly rumble. This one is ambrosia. Lannan has done the Oracle well to bring such a sweet treat.” Crawl smelled like decaying wood and mothballs, and I beat against his shoulders.

“No, no! You can’t drink from me!” I was frantic, even as I saw Lannan leap up on the platform. “Lannan, help me! Please!”

Lannan gave me a vague smirk, but he looked worried as he knelt beside the Oracle’s side. “The Master perhaps remembers the rule of the Crimson Queen? The one rule she extended to the Blood Oracle?”

Crawl leaned down and trailed his tongue along my arm, sucking up the blood where Lannan had cut me. The rasp of his licking felt like wriggling insects against my skin. I let out a sob, wishing it were over, just praying it would all go away, but the stench rising from the Blood Oracle overwhelmed my senses and I just wanted to go poof and no longer exist. If this was what life was going to be like from now on, could I handle it, even for the love of Grieve?

“My sired child should keep his comments to himself.” Crawl glanced back over his shoulder at Lannan, hissing at him. “The Blood Oracle is hungry and it’s been so long since he fed. Sweet flesh before him, a temptation too hard to ignore.” And he turned back to me, opened his mouth, and bit hard on my shoulder.

The pain was blinding—heat and fire seeping into my body as his fangs sank deep and he began to drink from me. The sensation of the blood leaving my body made me queasy. This was not like when Grieve drank from me, or even when Lannan had fed on me. The blood flowed like a river, and Crawl was reveling in my life force. I closed my eyes, willing myself to fight, but the pain became all there was—a white-hot haze of fire blurring my vision.

Everything retreated to a distance and I found myself staring down a long tunnel, and there, at the end, was Lannan, holding his arms out to me as he called my name. I turned but could not move.

My wolf moaned, then let out a long howl, and I reached to comfort it but there was no comfort there—only a gash ripping the space between my love and me. I sought Grieve out on the slipstream, calling to him.

Grieve, Grieve . . . where are you? Why aren’t you here to help me?

And there he was—but he was at the end of a long narrow ravine, running toward me, though I could tell he couldn’t see me. He was screaming my name, looking for me, and I couldn’t break through the fog that rolled along the snow, for everything was icy and pure and brilliant. I tried to run to him. All I wanted to do was to be safe in his arms, to let him enfold me and protect me from the energy that was sucking the blood from my body drop by drop.

Cicely! Where are you? I can’t find you!

I’m here, Grieve! Grieve, can you hear me? But he couldn’t, and defeated, he turned into his wolf and began to race toward the wood, howling and snarling.

No, Grieve! Please, come to me. Come back to me.

But it was dark and the moon was rising over the snowladen forest, and he was gone.

“Cicely! Come back. Come back to me, Cicely!” And then Lannan appeared again, at the end of the tunnel, and I turned and began to journey the long distance toward him. As I drew near, he shoved me behind him and I stumbled into darkness as his voice thundered through the void and the tunnel began to recede.