The voice. Only this time, it wasn’t inside his head.
As his heart pounded out of control, Tucker straightened. He still couldn’t see anything. There wasn’t a single beam of light in this crypt, and dust layered the air. Dust and death. “Y-yes. I try to be.” He would try to be anything this man wanted. “Who are you?”
“I am your king.”
Four simple words, but they changed Tucker’s life. Irrevocably. Yes. He belonged to the owner of that voice. It was strong, powerful, almost as if magic floated from each syllable, wrapping around him, tightening…tightening…controlling. More than being what this man wanted, Tucker would do whatever was asked of him, whenever it was asked. Happily.
“Vlad,” he said, knowing the name deep in his soul. He inclined his head in reverent greeting, even though he couldn’t be seen. Or could Vlad’s gaze pierce the darkness?
“Yes. I am Vlad. And there is someone else you know, Tucker. Someone I am deeply interested in. Aden Stone.”
A statement, not a question, yet Tucker replied anyway. “Yes.” He couldn’t help himself. Must please Vlad. Must always please Vlad. “I know him.”
“You will watch him.”
“Yes.” No hesitation.
“You will tell me everything you learn.”
“Yes.” Anything. Everything.
“That is good. I am counting on you, Tucker. Do not let me down. Because, you see, he took my crown, and when the time is right, I will take it back.”
THE NEXT FEW HOURS of Aden’s life passed in a blur. Shannon realized something was wrong with him and tried to distract him, telling him about his day and how Mr. Klien, their chemistry teacher, had had him stand at the front of the class doing finger-strengthening exercises the entire period for dropping one of his test vials.
At the same time, Thomas continued to barrage him with rapid-fire questions. “Why can’t my kind see or hear me anymore? Why did I disappear into a black hole after the vampire and werewolf left?”
At the same time, Elijah demanded they discuss the coming vampire assembly. Plans needed to be made. What if there was a rebellion and someone tried to de-throne him?
At the same time, Caleb outlined what Aden should wear to impress Victoria enough to make out with him. Black leather was a top contender. Whipped cream, too.
At the same time, Julian wrote an I’m-sorry poem for him to give to Victoria. Oh, sweet darling, my heart bleeds. But you love blood. And I am mud. Forgive me.
That’s when Caleb became mocking, and Elijah incensed. Blah, blah, blah.
Through it all, Aden even thought he heard wolves howling in the background. Arf, arf, arf, he thought mockingly.
His head throbbed. He couldn’t keep up with the chatter, the words and sounds doing more than blending together. They were creating an ever-increasing buzz that hammered against his skull.
Finally, he gave up. He rolled over, closed his eyes and tried to block out all of them. Peace. He just needed a little peace.
Soon, lack of rest and dying-by-proxy twice caught up with him, and he drifted in and out of agitated slumber. No, slumber wasn’t the right word. He wasn’t asleep, but he couldn’t move. Even when Shannon shook him, he couldn’t move or respond. It was like someone had tied his arms and legs to the bed. Like his eyelids had been taped open, and he couldn’t blink, even when his eyes dried and burned.
What was wrong with him?
He was vaguely aware of Shannon leaving the room and returning with Dan, who looked him over with concern. Dan tried to talk to him as he undressed Aden and tucked him under covers, but still Aden couldn’t answer. One, his jaw was as useless as the rest of him, and two, he simply couldn’t wade through the sea of voices, his awareness still being tugged in too many different directions.
Besides, Dan would think he was crazy—like everyone had always called him—if he answered something incorrectly.
Finally, Dan left and he sighed with relief. Short-lived relief. On and on the souls chattered. On and on Thomas spewed demands. Then Dan returned with Dr. Hennessy, Aden’s newest therapist, adding something more to the mix.
Dr. Hennessy looked him over, as well, frowning but not concerned. The doctor was a short, balding man, with wire-framed glasses and cold brown eyes, and he never showed any type of emotion. He was clinical, impersonal and always radiated shrewd awareness.
Questions were hurled at him. Aden could only decipher two words: catatonic and regressed.
Were they talking about him?
Of course they were. Pills were shoved into Aden’s mouth, and he tried to spit them out. Dr. Hennessy pinched his nose closed and held his jaw still, his purpose clear. If Aden wanted to breathe, he’d have to swallow.
“Take your medicine like a good boy, Aden,” the doctor said crisply. “You’ve had these before. I’m not giving you anything new.” A sigh. “Still determined to resist? Well, if you don’t take them, I’ll simply give you an injection. Wouldn’t you prefer to avoid a needle?”
Only when his lungs screamed in protest and his throat began to convulse did he swallow. A second later, he could breathe.
He sucked in mouthful after mouthful of air, but his I’m-going-to-live happiness disintegrated when he realized what he’d swallowed. Those pills always fogged Aden’s brain and put the souls into a stupor, two things he loathed. Two things they loathed. More than that, he needed to be clear-headed tonight. He needed… The blood-brain barrier was broken almost instantly, and dizziness washed through him.
The fog he’d feared appeared behind his eyes, thickening, spreading, fuzzing his thoughts.
“Sorry,” he managed to croak out, jaw once again working. “So sorry.”
Julian was the first to quiet. Then Caleb, then Elijah, who fought the hardest to remain heard. You’ll need me, Aden. Tonight is…tonight is…
Even Thomas, standing beside Dr. Hennessy, glaring down at Aden, began to waver, shimmer, there but not there, an outline without substance.
“He’ll need to visit me tomorrow morning,” Dr. Hennessy was saying to Dan as he straightened, wiping his hands together in a job well done. “First thing.”
Dan crossed his arms over his massive chest. He was a former pro-footballer, tall, wide, pure intimidation with pale hair and dark eyes. “He has school. If he’s well enough, and I think that he will be. He always pulls himself together quickly.”
“He can miss one day.”
“No, actually, he can’t. His studies are just as important as his therapy.”
Thank you, Aden wanted to say, but didn’t allow the words to move past his lips. No reason to encourage attention or unwittingly admit he understood what was being said. Dan cared about the boys here. Truly cared. Even about Aden, as his insistence proved.
“I’ll bring him to you immediately afterward,” Dan continued. “How about that?”
“I highly recommend you reconsider. This boy doesn’t need to be in school, around normal children. I could take over his—”
“Excuse me, Dr. Hennessy,” Dan said tightly. “I may not have a fancy degree, but I know this boy better than you do. He’s a good kid with a lot of heart, and he’s doing well here. He’s excelling in school with those so-called normal kids, and he’s even made new friends and gained confidence. He’s doing better than ever and I will not disrupt that progress.”
“Yes, but he still talks to himself. And today, well, he lost himself inside his mind. I would hardly call that ‘better than ever,’ Mr. Reeves. Would you?”
Dan stuffed his hands in his pockets, going all “well, shucks,” on the doctor, a sign Aden recognized as growing annoyance. “We all occasionally regress, as you said, but he’s pulling himself together.”