Ronan’s spine becomes taut as his gaze travels past my shoulder. I turn around, but I already know who caught his attention. Karl, and his sister Cheryl. Well, I was looking for a distraction from my problems, and it seems I got more than I wished for. Cheryl and Ronan together, looking for Manu. It’s shaping up to be an explosive night.
29
Aurora
I’ve been staring at nothing for the past half an hour while my brain keeps replaying my conversation with Saxon. Regret is a jagged little pill. I should have followed my instincts and kept my mouth shut. But it’s not only my stupidity occupying my mind. It’s his story and the possibility there are more first-generation Bluebloods suffering from insanity that the king doesn’t even know about. At least Saxon’s father is dead. But what about the Boucher family? Solomon said she’s a specter, not a ghost. I’d always used the term interchangeably.
I know I shouldn’t return to the catacombs, but maybe I can trick Madeleine into telling me what the hell happened to her. She wants freedom, and I’m not above lying to a murderous specter to get what I want.
I open the small book about her family that Solomon gave me. The gruesome images still make me cringe, but I try to focus on the text only. The English is archaic, and it doesn’t flow well. Sometimes I have to google a word I’m not familiar with. The story is nonetheless fascinating in a morbid way.
They were aristocrats, but they didn’t frequent King Raphael’s court. They preferred to mingle with Marie Antoinette and King Louis XVI, who I’m guessing weren’t aware the Bouchers were vampires. The Bouchers only started acting strangely after the French Revolution. By then, they had already immigrated to England’s countryside, where they committed most of their atrocities.
I’m about one-third into the book when my phone pings loudly, announcing a text message. My heart leapfrogs to my throat, dropping immediately back to its place like a rock sinking into a lake. “Fucking hell.” I press my hand against my chest.
When I glance at my phone, the notification has already vanished from my screen, so I have to slide my finger across to unlock it. The text is from Vivienne, asking me to meet her in the old gym on the east wing. She wrote emergency in capital letters. Shit. What now?
I hastily shove the book I was reading in my bag, then collect a few river stones and crystals I energized earlier. She didn’t specify what type of emergency, but my guess is it requires witchcraft to fix it. I curse that it’s still night and there are people milling about campus. If I run, it will draw too much attention. These damn bloodsuckers live for gossip. Certainly, I’d be followed.
When I get to the old gym, I find Rikkon on his back, and Vivienne and Vaughn crouching on each side of him.
“What the hell happened?” I run the rest of the way.
“Rikkon got sick after getting a vision about Manu being in danger. Lucca, Ronan, and Saxon went after her and told me to take Rikkon back to the apartment. But then he started to spasm and puke again. I didn’t know what to do,” Vaughn replies.
“Why didn’t you take him to Solomon?” I drop next to the guy, who has his eyes closed and is moaning deliriously. A sheen of sweat covers his forehead. Placing my hand against his skin confirms that he has a fever.
“I-I called Vivienne,” Vaughn replies.
“Can you help him?” she asks.
“I’ll try. Do you think he’s going through withdrawals?” I begin pulling items from my bag until I find the vial I was looking for.
“I don’t think so. Unless he relapsed without me knowing.” She gasps. “Oh shit. Maybe that’s what happened.”
“I don’t think so, Vivi. I’d know if Rikkon had been high,” Vaughn chimes in.
I force Rikkon’s mouth open and pour the concoction down his throat. He begins to cough immediately.
“What was that?” Vivienne asks.
“The equivalent of ten shots of espresso. Don’t worry. It’s harmless.”
Her brother opens his eyes, and at first, he doesn’t seem to know where he is.
Vivienne touches his face. “How are you feeling?”
“Vivi, what happened?”
“I don’t know. Vaughn said you got sick after having a vision?”
He closes his eyes, frowning. “Shit. It’s happening again.”
“What is?” I ask.
He grunts as he sits up, resting his arms on his knees. “The visions. I’ve been having them as long as I can remember.”