Wild Thing - Michelle Hercules Page 0,98

Jacques’s followers, the few who survived have run away. It seems the conflict ended as quickly as it began. I can’t help the feeling of disappointment. Not only did I not use all my pent-up aggression, but the vile creature we wanted was nowhere to be seen.

I’m about to lower my katana when the small hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I turn around expecting to find the enemy, but all I see are Red Guard soldiers and the king in the center. His head is dipped low, and he doesn’t seem to be breathing. Suddenly, his spine becomes taut a second before he whirls where he stands, sword raised in an aggressive stance. His eyes are bright red, and his face is twisted in blind rage. That look … it brings horrible memories to the surface. My father looked exactly like that when he killed my sister Kari.

I’m paralyzed, trapped between the past and the present. I don’t react when the king lets out a roar and aims that sharp blade at my neck.

“No!” Lucca yells, body slamming his uncle before he can bring the sword down.

They fall hard on the asphalt, rolling with the impact. Lucca jumps back to his feet, his eyes wide as he stares at our king. The Red Guard is on high alert, unsure of what just happened. Their weapons are at the ready, though.

“Uncle?” Lucca asks.

Groaning, the king leans on his left forearm, pressing the heel of his right palm to his forehead. “What the hell just happened?”

“You attacked Saxon.”

He seeks my gaze, confusion and regret showing in his back-to-normal dark brown eyes. “I don’t remember doing that.”

Lucca’s face twists into a grimace as our eyes lock. He must be thinking the same thing I am, that his uncle had a momentarily lapse in his mental faculties. The malady that has been plaguing first-generation Bluebloods has finally touched the king. I pass a hand over my face, consumed with worry and doubt. What the hell are we going to do when he loses his mind for good? Will Lucca be forced to kill him?

The king gets back on his feet, then walks over. “I’m so sorry, son.”

“I know.”

I’m about to add one of my trademark sarcastic comments when a sharp tug in my chest robs me of words. I press a closed fist against it, not knowing where that feeling comes from, when Aurora’s words sound in my head.

“Saxon, what’s the matter?” Manu asks.

“It’s Aurora. She’s in danger. I have to go.”

Without wasting another second, I take off, heading toward the place I almost lost my life a night ago.

Hang on, Aurora. I’m coming.

38

Aurora

Smiling with glee, Elena walks toward the grimoire. She picks it up with reverence, stroking the cover as if it were a treasure. Her demented stare reminds me of Gollum as he patted his precious.

“Ah, yes. Finally, after all these years, you’re mine.”

“You … stupid … old hag.” Calvin spits the words out with difficulty. The effect of the magical dust Elena used on him must be fading. “The grimoire … only serves … my family.”

Her crimson lips break into a chilling smile. “Yes, and Aurora just became your wife. She’s now family.”

“Were you … working with … her?” Calvin stares at me.

“Tsk, tsk. She can’t answer right now. You see, Aurora was so distraught when your engagement was announced that she fell right into my trap. We’re linked through a blood vow, and thus, the grimoire will work for me.”

Calvin starts to laugh like a deranged person. “Go … ahead. Try to use it.”

Frowning, Elena opens the tome. Her eyes widen, and she begins to flip the pages in a manic manner. “No. No! That’s impossible. I should be able to see the words.”

“Who do you … take we Belmonts for? Idiots? A blood … vow is not enough to … allow non-family … access.”

Elena whips her face to his, leveling a glare at him. But then she switches her attention to me, and once again, a wicked grin blossoms on her hateful face. “That’s okay. I only need the grimoire for one spell. If I can’t perform it, I’ll just have to play puppet master for a little longer.”

I take a step forward, and another. Once again, Elena is compelling my body to do her bidding.

“That’s … impossible. A blood vow … doesn’t give … you that much … power over someone,” Calvin protests.

Wait. How does he know? Until I met Elena, I had

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