Plagued: Book 1 Read online

  Very soon, the old fashioned clock above the bar showed only a few minutes left to the midnight hour. Savan opened a bottle of champagne. Everyone cheered as he poured out glass after glass. Several more bottles shot open in quick succession. Apparently, the entire group was joining in my birthday toast.

  Three or four people dressed in black leather, exactly as at my first Club meeting at the Chateau Robuchon, squeezed inside. Each carried a silver tray covered in carnival masks festooned with ribbons. I flashed back to my welcoming dinner. There had been masks then, too, weren't there? I had all but forgotten about the masquerade. The Club's love of ritual. Masks and something more. What was it? Animals? I couldn't quite bring the memory into focus. I shrugged it away. That wasn't important now. Savan had said the Club must have its rituals. This masquerade was part of mine. I felt comforted in that.

  Savan tied on his dark gray mask with the silver eyes and red ribbons.

  “Where's my mask?” I asked as the person in black moved silently on to the next person. “Don't I get one now?”

  “Shhhh.” He put his finger to my lips, a secret little smile on his mouth. The mask made him look a slightly scary, like a stranger. “Wait and see.”

  I looked over to see the bartender staring at me. I shivered. With a wink, he held out a champagne bottle, different from the others. Black all over: glass, label, and cork. He handed it to Savan. Savan then presented it, rather ceremoniously, to Vanessa, who set it down on the bar. Vanessa already had on her black velvet mask with the cut-out wings swirling elegantly up onto the sides of her head. Her dress tonight was black velvet as well, with a deep V-neck and a swirling silk flounce around the hem. I thought she looked beautiful. The mask the perfect finishing touch. I was so proud she was my friend. So proud of them all.

  The wrinkly bartender reached down somewhere out of sight and pulled out a shimmery, dark cloth bag which he gave directly to Vanessa. She placed the bag next to the bottle. Carefully drawing aside the strings, the bag fell away to reveal an exquisite crystal goblet covered in the most delicate silver metal filigree work I had ever seen. The silver spread out from the stem in the shape of two outstretched wings. I looked more closely, the metal base formed a fanged figure in the center, its face set in a grotesque grimace. Not quite what I expected.

  Vanessa gave me a full smile from beneath her lovely mask and I automatically smiled back. Nerves again. That's all. She deftly removed the cork from the black bottle, pouring just a small measure of the liquid, fizzing and popping, into the slim goblet.

  I jumped as the clock began to chime loudly.

  “Almost time,” Savan whispered, leaning down to kiss me on the mouth. “So special,” he breathed around my lips, still kissing me. “So very special this day, this hour, this moment with you.”

  His mask must have scratched my cheek and forehead as I felt them burning. Then, in a flash, I remembered the silver-haired boy and his mirror; the mirror reflecting strange red symbols burned into my skin. Ritual marks or something like that, he called them. There was an odd feeling in the pit of my stomach. Almost like fear. I pushed it aside, angry at myself and my childish fancies. There was no reason to be afraid. I was happy. This party. My friends. Tonight's masquerade was all for me.

  Six chimes. There was a murmur of excited whispering from everyone present and they raised their glasses. The bartender reached into the cage and grabbed one of the snakes, banded red and yellow. It wriggled and twined itself around his wrist trying to escape. Its struggles were futile, he held on firmly, gripping it tight.

  At the stroke of twelve, before I knew what was happening, he twisted the snake's head off and grabbing the tail, held the headless, writhing body over the strange goblet. The snake's blood dripped into the small measure of champagne, staining the liquid dark red.

  I looked on in horror. Everyone else seemed terribly pleased and a cheer went up.

  “Drink,” said Savan, grinning from under his mask and pushing the glass towards me.

  “Drink,” said Vanessa, smiling behind her black velvet and lace, the ribbons fluttering sinuously as the captive snakes. “To become one with us, with the Club, you must drink this. It is a measure of trust. You do trust us, don't you?”

  They looked at me expectantly. I stared from the headless snake, still weakly squirming, to the glass and back to them.

  “Drink,” she urged again.

  “Drink!” shouted the others.

  Savan spoke so only I could hear. “Close your eyes and drink it down, the ritual will be over in a moment.”

  I didn't want to touch the glass, much less drink what was in it.

  Vanessa picked the goblet up by the beautiful silver wings and handed it to Savan. Savan held it to my lips.

  How could I refuse? They had done so much for me. This was just some silly initiation ritual, an old school sorority or fraternity initiation type thing. Like the masks. The whole masquerade. Ritual. I could swallow my pride and choke down their traditional concoction. If it brought me closer to them, what harm could it do?

  I opened my mouth and let Savan tip it to my lips. I wanted this, I did. To belong to the Club. To belong somewhere. Closing my eyes as Savan said, I tossed it off in one gulp. Thank God Vanessa had poured so little liquid into the glass; otherwise I am sure I would have thrown it right back up.

  When Savan put the goblet down, empty except for a red smear along the side which I looked away from hurriedly, another cheer went around the bar. Everyone took a drink from their snake-blood free glasses. Whisking away the goblet, the bartender disposed of the now still snake and, rinsing the glass, returned the ornate goblet to my place at the bar. Savan poured in a full measure from the special black bottle and, clinking glasses, I took a drink of the liquid hoping to rinse the taste of the snake's death from my mouth.

  One by one the Club members I had come to know and care so much about came over to wish me happy birthday. Some I could recognize behind the masks, most of them, I could not. There were kisses and hugs and lots more champagne. Too much. I was a little dizzy. Savan seemed to sense my distress and guided me to a table at the back. I hadn't even noticed this little alcove. He settled me on a chair, smoothing my hair and my dress, stroking my cheek in that intimate gesture that was ours alone.

  “The flavor of your soul is beyond delicious.” Removing his mask, he ran his tongue slowly along my lower lip. “I must have you, it must be me.”

  I had no idea what he was talking about and said so.

  “Doesn't matter, doesn't matter. Everything will become clear.”

  “Everything but my head! I need something to eat, Savan.”

  He sat down next me. “Of course, now that it's after midnight, we won't be much longer. Alexandra,” his voice changed, becoming husky. He slipped off his mask, showing me his beautiful face. There was a subtle shift in his body, in his touch. “Darling, if I was to ask you for something that is yours to give. I wonder if you would surrender it to us?”

  Us? He must have said “me.” The noise level in the little bar was rather high, I just hadn't heard him correctly.

  “You, Savan? Surrender it to you?”

  He smiled. Closing the few inches that lay between us, he kissed me with his beautiful mouth. Kissed me deeply, luxuriously, in a way I had never been kissed before. I felt a rush to my senses, from my head to my toes. A delicious jingling and jangling of nerves that made my fingertips buzz. His kiss deepened, his tongue teasing its way into my mouth. Though I was surprised, I didn't pull away. It was a strange sensation at first. My mind might not know how to respond, my body, however, seemed to understand just what to do. I opened my mouth a little and his tongue pushed its way deeper. My senses floated, untethered to the chair, the bar, the earth. Floating, floating on clouds of deep-throated kisses. He kissed me harder, demanding, and still I didn't resist. My arms reached up seemingly of their own accord and tightened around his neck, drawing him to me. My tongue tickled his as I pushed, tentatively back. T
he noise in the background faded to nothing and all I could hear was the pounding of my own heart.

  He moved to kiss my throat, slowly, lingeringly. This sent a whole new sensation tumbling through my nervous system. Gently grasping my head in his hands, his lips brushed my ear lobes with tantalizing softness. “My darling, will you surrender? Give freely what no one can take from you? Give it with love and your blessing?”

  I was seventeen tonight, almost a woman. Everything felt fuzzy and indistinct. I thought I knew what he was asking. I was a virgin. He wanted me to give myself to him. The first time. He ran his tongue along the inside of my ear, then once again along my throat. Gripping my hair, he pulled my head back ever so softly and slipped his tongue again in my mouth.

  When I could breathe again, not think maybe, but breathe, I whispered, “Yes, Savan. I surrender.”

  The room seemed to pitch dangerously to one side and then back again. I had drunk too much. Way too much apparently. Closing my eyes against the sudden vertigo, I felt Savan change position. When I opened them again, he was standing a few steps away, the mask once more tied in place.

  “It is done.” Savan's voice was commanding, loud. I could hear him clearly even through the fuzz in my brain. Too clearly. Silence fell on the crowded little bar like someone flipped the off switch for volume. No music, no voices, silence so complete, I heard one of the snakes in the jar hiss.

  As if on cue, the Club members stood. They were all wearing their masks, still I thought I could pick out Anders, Simon, Lilly, the red-headed twins and dark-haired young man with the ponytail. Louis. That was his name. Other people I didn't know pushed their way forward, crowding around Savan.

  “Alexandra Carpenter has surrendered of her free will without duress.”

  “Do you swear?” said Vanessa.

  “Do you swear?” said Anders.

  “Do you swear?” said Lilly.

  The question was taken up and echoed by voice after voice.

  'This isn't right,' one part of my mind tried to tell me. Savan should not be standing there proclaiming to all the very, very private and personal news I agreed to give myself to him. “Surrender” as he had put it in that rolling, sexy, Italian accent. Unfortunately, the other part of my mind had gone all soft and mushy and I couldn't seem to think what I should do about it or even get upset. I think I was sitting there, grinning like an idiot, looking at him with that love light shining from my eyes, still thinking how lucky I was to have found the Club and all my dear friends.

  Finally, when it seemed as though every person there including the wrinkly bartender had shouted the question one by one, they all yelled in chorus, “Do you swear!” so loudly I jumped in my seat.

  Savan spread his arms wide. “I swear on the soul of Alexandra Carpenter.”

  Savan turned around to face me. His mask shifted, changing. The exaggerated carnival contours melted until a dark wolf's head stared at me, his eyes turning black.

  He smiled a terrible smile, fangs extending. “Let the lottery begin!”

  I fell into darkness.

  Chapter 16

  After Burn

  And that was how I woke up nearly naked on a mattress in a shabby Tokyo apartment, in bed with a beautiful boy, his eyes the color of emeralds, his arms wrapped tightly around me. A boy who was also a sorcerer and, as I came to learn, much worse.

  Julian Lake had rescued me, or so he said. Found me in a warehouse and brought me to this dingy, studio apartment and anchored me to this world. Whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. All I knew was that I wanted to see my friends again. Vanessa, Savan, Lilly, Anders. My wonderful, clever, lovely friends.

  Crouched on the floor, shivering, frightened and confused, I listened to his crazy story of having my soul ripped out by members of the Club. “Soul Eaters,” he called them. I mean honestly! Who believes that sort of stuff?

  Over hot cups of strong tea, he tried to explain I was a victim of black magic rites. The Club, he said in his cultured British voice, had stolen my soul in some bizarre ritual. Ripped out and divided it among three members into equal portions like pieces of a birthday cake.

  “There are two types of people the Club seeks: converts and sacrifices. You were, are a sacrifice. A dubious honor, yet those chosen must be very special. Pure, glowing souls, young people of rare ability caught just as their souls are beginning to mature. All that brilliance barely contained, waiting to burst out. Singular people. Don’t be sorry you were not wanted as a member, a convert. Be thankful you are not as them.”

  Despite the look of sheer disbelief on my face, he barreled on with his crazy talk. Because of my soul being stolen, he said, apparently in all sincerity, my body will gradually weaken. As it weakens, those three portions of soul will increasingly become enriched.

  “Those glowing, beautiful Club members have given themselves wholly to dark enchantments. They seek immortality, eternal youth with this power. The spell must run its natural course or it will fail. That is why they did not kill you outright. When you are too weak, body and mind, to keep your soul tethered to this earth, they will break the chain binding it and consume the energy utterly. At that moment, your body will turn to dust.”

  Dust. That was a new one. I didn't know a lot about the occult or supernatural stuff, but dust? The story was just too preposterous. How do you comment on something like Soul Eaters? Especially sitting on the floor, wrapped in a blanket.

  What I wanted desperately was to be back in my apartment, or anywhere else except here. If I screamed, would someone hear me? Scanning the room, I checked for something to use as a weapon. I was not becoming a teenage girl statistic, not without a fight.

  I decided to ask the most important question. “Am I your prisoner?” There was hardly any quaver in my voice. I was proud of that.

  He gave a deep sigh. “Have you heard nothing I've said?”

  I didn't know whether I should humor him or not. That's what you did with crazy people as I recall. Even extraordinarily handsome crazy people. Before I could decide on an answer, he stood and walked to the other side of the room, his muscles rippling just beneath the pale, scarred skin, graceful as a big cat.

  “You are not my prisoner, Alexandra. You are theirs.”

  Reaching into a cupboard, he pulled out my clothes from last night: the beautiful shiny dress and Vanessa's Prada shoes, neatly stacked. On top of the pile sat my cell phone and little clutch. Crazy kidnappers did not usually give back your cell phone, I was pretty sure about that. I looked not at the stack of clothes, but his face. There were dark circles under his eyes and hollows in his cheeks, a shadow on his chin the same color as his silver hair. He didn't look crazy or evil; he looked every bit as exhausted as I felt, maybe more.

  Not caring that he was standing right there, I made a grab for the phone and my clothes. Standing, I looked down at myself.

  Oh my.

  Arms, legs, stomach, then stretching my neck around to look behind, hips, every inch of me was covered in some sort of scrawling, black script. I looked like the tattooed lady from a Stephen King nightmare circus.

  “What the hell! Did you do this to me? These better come off!” My voice rose dangerously.

  He looked me up and down as though assessing his handiwork. “They were to keep you anchored to this world as I mentioned if you were listening!” The hard edge crept back into his tone of voice and I flinched involuntarily. “These symbols helped me bind the thread linking you to your soul more tightly. For a time, I thought I might lose you entirely. It can happen that quickly. Gone in just one night. Dust to dust. That's why I held you as your mind wandered. Joining my spirit, my energy to yours.” Abruptly his eyes lost some of their brittle green glow. “You're far stronger than you look and you fought back hard and long.”

  A series of horrible images flashed through my mind.

  He put up one hand in an appeasing gesture.“Metaphysically speaking. Nothing more. No wonder the Club wants you. I, myself, have never encounter
ed a complex spirit quite like yours. It is quite unearthly.”

  “If I don't have a soul like you say, how can I have a spirit for you to encounter?” I'd show him I was listening!

  He rolled his eyes as though I'd only confirmed his low opinion of my intelligence. “Spirit and soul are two extraordinarily different things in magic, Alexandra.” He shook his head, “What passes for an education in America, I just don't know...”

  Slipping on my shoes and shimmying into my dress, I pushed past him, desperate to be gone, to be out of this place and away from the frightening young man with emerald eyes. A pain shot through my chest, so intense, so unexpected I had to grab onto the kitchen counter and catch my breath. He moved forward and I shouted, “Don't touch me!”

  Throwing open the battered front door, which wasn't even double locked, I staggered out onto a second-floor landing. I could see the outside of the building was every bit as shabby as the inside: weepy gray concrete and a network of deep cracks mapping out its history of neglect, a rusty set of stairs snaking up one side. Clattering down the narrow metal stairs in three-inch heels proved a precarious business. I stepped along as fast as I could with just one backward glance. Julian Lake stood in the doorway staring after me. I shivered.

  Not knowing where I was, desperate to put some distance between us, I ran a block or two in a random direction despite the pain in my chest. It's not easy to run in Prada sandals while apparently having a heart attack. At least I was out in the open and away from the frightening boy with the steely stare.

  Neighborhoods in Japan have very little to distinguish one from the other with a few upscale exceptions. Apartments – nice to decrepit – stand shoulder-to-shoulder with houses of every size, description and income bracket. Once off the main thoroughfares, it is very easy to get lost.

  At this moment, I had less than no idea where I was. This street could be in another city entirely. Balancing unsteadily on my heels, heart pounding, I stopped and listened. The roar of trucks and revving motorcycle engines came in loud and clear from very near. After a few wrong turns, I found a busy street and, inevitably, taxis cruising for fares. Ten thousand yen still sat untouched in my evening bag. Praying 'Please let me be in Tokyo,' I flagged a cab and mumbled my address. The driver tapped it into his car navigation system and we were off. Once settled in the backseat, I tried to ignore the furtive looks in the rearview mirror from the driver. Who could blame him? I looked like a walking doodle pad. My heart slowed a little as I sat in the cab, though my chest still ached. Tapping my phone, I checked the incoming log. Vanessa and Savan must be frantic; who knows what time this Julian guy grabbed me? Scrolling through the calls, I saw they were all from my dad, too many to count. The calls ranged from early morning to afternoon, to night and morning again. Wait, that couldn't be right. The phone said eleven a.m. I looked at the date. Sunday, the ninth.