“The Old Ones communicate telepathically. Their fangs have grown so large it’s hard for them to talk. When you interrupted that ritual, you surprised the Old Ones. In that moment, I felt . . . it was like an electric shock. Like it blasted away some barrier in my mind. I could hear their thoughts as they communicated with each other.
“At first, I was thrilled. I thought my new ability meant I’d become one of them, but on my own terms, without the ugliness.” She touched her hair. It had been combed but still lacked its usual luster. “Believe me, I checked my appearance frequently.
“I tried communicating back, but they didn’t pick up what I was saying. I assumed I just needed practice, but as I listened to them, I realized they’d never intended me to share their communication at all. They thought of me as . . .” She scowled, showing her fangs. “As some sort of lab rat.”
“They didn’t know you could hear them?”
“No. They communicated freely around me, and the more I learned, the more I realized how much they’d lied.”
“You said they lied about strengthening your power. What else?”
“Eternal life, for starters. They claimed to be immortal. But you proved that was a lie when you killed that Old One. You killed him.” Her eyes rounded and she shook her head, as though she still couldn’t believe it, even though she’d kicked the thing’s headless corpse. “Everything makes so much more sense, now that I know they can die.”
“Did you overhear anything about someone named Pryce?”
She shook her head. “It didn’t work like that. They didn’t use names. I had to keep my own mind very, very still and listen for . . . it sounded like whispers in an adjacent room. But they didn’t communicate in words so much as in images, symbols, understandings.”
“Not much room for Shakespeare in a language like that.”
“You’re right. The Old Ones would have no use for poetry. They have no use for anything besides their own power.” Her eyes clouded for a moment, then refocused on me. “But tell me what this Pryce is like. Maybe I’ll recognize something.”
“He’s a demi-demon, very old, from Wales.” Juliet looked blank; no bells ringing so far. “I killed his demon half, and he went catatonic. After he fell, his human shell disappeared, and I’m pretty sure the Old Ones snatched it.”
“Catatonic? There was someone they thought of as ‘the sleeper.’ They did take him. They wanted to use him as leverage against someone else, ‘the wizard.’ There was a lot of fear and hatred coloring their thoughts about this wizard, but they believed he’d help them because of the sleeper.”
This wizard was news to me. “Who is he?”
“I don’t know. By this time, you must understand, I’d run away. I was trying to stay a step ahead of them but also find out what they were planning. It was risky. As long as I only eavesdropped on their thoughts, I was fine. But if I saw one of them, even a glimpse, I’d be in their thrall again. Like I was last night.” Juliet picked up a partially full bottle of blood from her nightstand, then put it down again. “I recall there was some reason that contacting the wizard would be immensely difficult, but I never found out why. That’s all I know, I’m afraid.”
“That’s okay.” The next time I spoke with my aunt Mab, I’d ask her if she knew of any wizard associated with Pryce. She knew more about Pryce’s background than I did. I’d been too busy dodging his attempts to kill me to ask for his résumé.
Juliet yawned and stretched; the stretch ended in a wince.
“Are you okay?” I asked. “Do you need to rest?”
“Soon. But I know you’re wondering what happened in Washington, so let me tell you that first.”
Good. I really wanted to hear Juliet’s side of that story— and share it with Kane. But after last night’s ordeal, I didn’t want to tax her.
“I was still an enthusiastic new recruit when the Old Ones started murmuring about Kane and his paranormal rights case. They didn’t like it.”
“Yeah, we figured that out. But why?”
“I thought it was because the Old Ones wanted to keep the old ways, with vampires living in the shadows and treating humans as mere prey. I thought they were offended by the very idea that vampires and humans could be equal. And I’ll admit those views appealed to me. Maybe it was because I was starting to feel my age, but I was nostalgic for the old days, before vampires came out into the open and found themselves subject to human-created laws.”
“But Kane’s trying to make that better, to give humans and paranormals equal standing under the law.”
“Perhaps. I can see he believes that. But at the time, I was offended by the very idea of a panel of nine blood-bag judges deciding my fate.”
My heart sank. “So you did try to help them frame Kane.”
“I provided them with information about where he was staying, where he was working. They took me to Washington with them because they thought I’d be useful there. As we traveled, I listened to their conversation. The Old Ones don’t want to keep the old ways—they’re sick of the old ways. They want to come out into the open, but not like other paranormals. They want to be gods.
“Their plan was to murder a prominent norm and blame it on a prominent monster, with the aim of fomenting an all-out human-paranormal war. A war would weed out all the weaker vampires and norms. When it was over, the Old Ones would come forward and take control. They’d select the best vampires and humans to serve as their food supply—like farm animals, really—and annihilate everyone else.
“ At the time, I still believed I was one of them. I wanted the power, yes, and the immortality. But not like that. What fun would it be reigning over a bunch of blank-faced vampires-inthrall and cowering norms? And when they communicated about Kane, about the irony of using him to start a war and how much they’d enjoy humiliating him, something inside me altered.”
“You wanted to protect Kane.” The exact opposite of what he assumed.
She looked away, as though the very idea embarrassed her. “I told you I was getting weaker with age. For whatever reason, for the first time I began to doubt the Old Ones. I found that sliver of will within me. By the time we arrived in Washington, I knew I had to stop them. When the Old Ones left me alone—they had no reason to think I’d betray them—I tried to phone Kane. He never answered, and I couldn’t exactly explain what was happening in a voice mail. I also tried to warn that woman they killed, Justice Frederickson. I stopped her on the street and told her she was a target. She laughed and said she’d add it to her collection of death threats.” Juliet shook her head, and I wondered whether her amazement was because she’d bothered to warn a norm about a vampire attack or because Frederickson had laughed at that warning. “It took a few days before the Old Ones realized I’d defied them. It was incomprehensible to them that one of their vampire servants could think for herself. When they began to suspect me, I had to run.”
“I know. I got your postcards.”
“Oh, the postcards.” She waved a hand dismissively. “Those were a ruse. I’ve been shadowing the Old Ones, first in Washington and then following them back to Boston. I’ve been here all along.”
“Wait, a ruse?” Irritation surged through me. “You were lying to me about where you were?”
“I wouldn’t lie to you. You’re far too . . . goody-goody to betray someone’s trust. Wait. That sounded like an insult, but I don’t mean it that way.” Her forehead puckered. “It’s been so long since I thought in those terms. Moral—maybe that’s what I mean. You’re too moral.”
“Thanks.” I loaded up the word with sarcasm, but Juliet didn’t seem to notice.
“I sent the postcards to let you know I was defying the Old Ones. But the ruse wasn’t to fool you. How many postcards did you receive?”
“Five.”
“I sent twelve. So the Old Ones wasted their time running around the globe searching for me while I was right here. I could spy on them, and they never suspected. That’s how I learned about the wizard and the sleeping one.”
“If you didn’t leave Boston, how did you manage to send cards from Brazil and Australia and all those other places?”
“Using a network of trusted vampires.” The furrows in her forehead deepened. “Except one of them betrayed me. I don’t know who, but when I find out, there’s a stake with that vampire’s name on it.” The feral glow in her eyes showed she wasn’t talking in metaphors. “It was nearly dawn. I’d been out to feed, and I was returning to my safe house. On the street outside, I stopped, getting out my key. As I did, I heard those soft, scratchy, psychic whispers. Two Old Ones were inside my no-longer-safe house, waiting for me. The sun was almost up, and I didn’t have another place to stay. So I found a Goon Squad patrol and turned myself in. It was the only thing I could think of.”
Juliet yawned again and sank lower on the pillows. “I’m tired. I think it’s time for me to resume the shroud.”
It was getting late for a vampire, and she did need to rest. “Can I take a look at your leg?” I asked.
She sighed and moved the covers aside as though she were doing me a great favor. Axel’s stitches marched along the wound in a neat, even line. But the edges of the cut curled up slightly, away from each other, as though determined not to rejoin. Juliet’s leg was hot and still smelled putrid.
I pulled the covers back over her leg. “When I was in Wales, my aunt gave me a salve that speeds healing. I brought some back with me. I don’t know if it works on vampires, but it’s worth a try. It’s good stuff. I’ll bring some next time.”
“If you think it might help.” Juliet lifted a hand, granting permission, then crossed her arms on her chest. “And now, ‘to sleep, perchance to dream.’ Although I’m no more eager for dreams than Hamlet was.”
