He shrugged and slumped back to the pallet. “Perhaps, but was it your heart that brought you here or your need for revenge?”

My jaw tightened. “Did you meet the Child Empress?”

“Briefly. I saw a lot around the kid, even though she was covered up. Death, lots and lots of death and manipulation, but that is true for any vampire no matter how young they are. But you are trying to change the f**king subject. Right now, it’s about prophecies. You need to read them, understand them, so when the time comes you have at least an idea of what you’re going to be up against.”

I scrubbed a hand over my face, thinking that perhaps Jack had a fever, and that he’d lost his marbles in the last few days locked away inside the palace walls. Fuck, anything was possible. But what he was saying couldn’t be true. I was no legend in the making. Trackers were just that—Trackers; nothing more.

I stood, and Jack let me go. Pacing the small room didn’t help, only made me feel more freaked out. Fuck, this was bad.

“Rylee, the end game is going to be played out, and you are central to it. Many of your friends are central to it.”

“How the f**k am I supposed to take this, Jack?” I shouted, feeling an unfamiliar wash of anxiety sweeping over me.

“Like a f**king Tracker,” he shouted back. “You do what you must, you keep your oaths, you save the goddamn world. Stop whining. This is your life, learn to f**king deal with it.”

Was he right?

Yes, f**k it all to hell and back, Jack was right. At least about dealing with my life, and probably about the rest too.

But at that moment, I just couldn’t handle more shit about the prophecies. I had to worry about saving my ass, Jack, Pamela, and O’Shea. Kill a Child Empress and escape a nest of vampires.

Yeah, I was kind of tied up.

“Later, Jack. Can we talk about this later?”

He threw his cane at me, and I dodged it easily. “You don’t f**king know if there will even be a f**king later.”

I blew out a sharp breath of air. “If the prophecies are right, there will be a later and we can talk about it then.”

With a mutter of some choice expletives, he lay back down on the rough bed. He couldn’t really argue with my logic and we both knew it. If he was right, I would have a later. If he was wrong, well, we’d find out soon enough.

I leaned against the far wall, watched Jack slip in and out of sleep, knew that I should probably sit with him, hold his hand. But I couldn’t because he would start in on me again.

Why do the prophecies scare you so bad? The words weren’t from Blaz, or any other person. They were my own thoughts, scrambling through my head.

Yeah, good f**king question.

More than anything, I wanted to believe I had control over my own life, that fate wasn’t forcing me into situations. Manipulating me. Fuck, I hated that more than anything else, and that’s what the prophecies felt like, a complete and utter shit-hole of a manipulation.

The day waned, or I assumed it did. I was thirsty, hungry and tired. I didn’t dare close my eyes, and I could do nothing about the other two issues. I wondered about Pamela and O’Shea. Please, Gods, let them get out of here. I Tracked Pamela, but she wasn’t far away, certainly not as far away as I would have liked. Damn, they were still down here. My guts clenched. I had to believe O’Shea would protect her. Had to.

Late in the day, I knew that they, the guards, pets, whatever the hell they were, would be coming for me soon. Bringing me out for an audience with the Child Empress. My last stand.

When the footsteps echoed to me down the hallway, I went to the door. I tucked the short sword into one of my sheaths and shoved it so that the handle was hidden by my jacket.

The door was flung open and I stepped back, letting them take me. At least this way I would be right in the presence of the Child Empress. This way I had a chance to kill her.

I looked over my shoulder. “I can’t be the one the prophecies speak of, Jack. I know I can’t be.”

He lifted his eyes to mine. “You don’t know that.”

But I did know that. Because I knew there was no way to fill any prophecies when I was dead.

Chapter 21

WHAT HIS MATE was thinking, he had no idea. But now he had to find a way to get her, the witch child, and himself out of this nest of blood and death. His nose was filled with it, the scent of rotting death, new death, blood and pain. The smells made his nose twitch and his skin crawl. The witch child clung to him, fear rolling off her in waves. He didn’t like the fact that she had a hand on him, but he allowed it. She was a part of their pack, after all.

“Shouldn’t we go back for Rylee?” The child whispered, her voice right in his ear. He couldn’t answer her, so he just shook his head. His mate would find a way out; they just had to meet her wherever it was she ended up. They wandered for hours, avoiding those that looked for them, hiding where they had to, never fighting.

He took a deep breath and caught the smell of food, fresh cooking meat. Moving in that direction, he took deep breaths, drawing in the scents all around him, searching for anymore of the blood drinkers. His lips curled back as he walked, just thinking about them. The one that had bitten his mate was bad, but these ones, they were worse. They were mad, a sickness infecting their minds … and they weren’t even true blood drinkers, they were like shadows that darted around trying to be something they weren’t.

“Do you smell that?”

He just trotted along, towing her with him toward the food. They rounded a corner and a large cooking area opened up. She ran forward and grabbed a pot off the stove, shoveling food into her mouth, then grabbing another pot and putting it on the floor for him. They ate in silence, but at the sounds of footsteps in the hallway, he nudged her away. They hid behind a large table, working their way around until they could peer around it without being seen.

The footsteps drew close and the blood drinker’s shadows came in line with the doorway. There was a glimpse of auburn hair, but more than that, the scent of his mate. The scent of where he belonged.

Creeping forward, he moved to the door, watching them take her away from him again.

With a low growl, he flicked his head from the witch child to his mate.

“We’ll get her back, O’Shea,” she said, her eyes fierce with a fire that surprised him after he’d felt her fear for so long. “I’ll kill them all if I have to.”

He gave a soft woof. Perhaps the witch child was a better fit than he’d first thought.

Stepping into the hallway, they turned and once more followed where his mate led.

My handlers walked me to the intersection and took a left, trotted me down a set of stairs, and then took another hallway to the left. I was very well-behaved, said nothing, and didn’t try to get away. I kept track of where they were taking me, memorizing the turns so I could make my way back to Jack.

Assuming I was in one piece after this audience and could make my way back.

The hallway dipped down on a slope, running water trickling along in a miniature river on each side of it. Wall sconces were lit with pitch-covered torches, the droplets of fire and pitch hissing as they fell into the water.

We passed a kitchen and, out the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of golden eyes and black fur. Something in me eased, knowing that they hadn’t caught O’Shea. And if they hadn’t caught him, they hadn’t caught Pamela.

Better and better.

My handlers didn’t speak, and I didn’t try to engage them. Wasn’t sure I wanted to. What would I say? Had any good blood lately? So what’s it like being a slave to a psycho?

No, none of that would help me, and for once I managed to keep my damn mouth shut.

We dipped lower and lower, and more water trickled along the side of the hallway. Fuck, what would happen if Pamela pulled a power stunt like she’d shown Blaz? She could sink this entire place.

A chill swept along my spine. Yeah, that would be a last ditch effort, used only if we had to.

One more corner and the hallway opened up into a gilded ballroom I’d seen before, in Faris’ memory, the first one he’d shown me.

They let me go and shoved me forward. Around the room stood an array of vampires, some I recognized from Faris’ memory, though their clothes were far more modern—not so much lace this time around. I dusted off the front of my jacket.

“So, where’s the snot-nosed brat that runs this shit hole?” I lifted an eyebrow. “Or is it past her bedtime?”

The general reaction was not one of outrage, but of fear. They pulled back, as if by stepping away from me they wouldn’t get caught in any backlash.

I laughed. “Oh please, are you f**king serious? You’re scared of a kid?”

A stately vampire, the Old One I’d seen in Faris’ memory, the seer of the vampires, stepped forward, dressed in the same thing as before. A long grey silk dress that brushed the floor, her bright white hair braided back from her face. Hazel eyes sharpened as she moved toward me.

“You mock what you know not.”

“I mock everything, Yoda. Get used to it.”

Her brows snapped low over her eyes, and I glared back. My guts were clenched into a knot the size of both my fists, sweat trickled down my back and chest, though it was cool in these lower levels. My heart was leaping about inside my chest. Terrified? Yeah, I f**king well was, because for the first time I couldn’t see a way out of a situation. Not even with O’Shea and Pamela at my back.

The Old One stared at me, a slow smile ghosting over her lips. “Whoever binds the Tracker to them will be able to seek out the last of the Blood. Those are my words, this is my vision, this is what those who wish to rule must accomplish. Of course, you would have to be the Tracker who holds the Blood of the Lost.”

“Really, did you have to f**king well remind them?” I growled, feeling the room tense around us.

Her grin widened. “Yes, I did. Because I am not sure you can be bound to anyone, Tracker, Immune.”

“Good point.” I had to fight to keep from stepping away from her. Every instinct I had screamed at me to fight, run, do something. “Anything else you’d like to add?”