Free Twice Dead by Kalayna Price

anything so… elaborate.
    Half a dozen doppelgangers filled the small room. The Kitacopies all looked stricken as they stared at each other. Two red dots decorated each of their throats. The bite —Tatius hadn’t closed it. The Nathanial-copies stared at Tatius, brows creased with strain, pupils expanded until their gray irises were eradicated.
    “This is foolish, Nate,” Tatius said, crossing his arms over his chest. “And deadly.”
    He sounded at ease, bored even, as his gaze moved over the half dozen copies, but his pupils had also expanded, only the thinnest sliver of green left.
    Nate? It was a very un-Nathanial like nickname. Was Tatius’s use of the nickname supposed to engender trust? To remind Nathanial of some shared past—or possibly to remind himself?
    Nathanial floated us toward the door as the doppelgangers dashed in front of us. They dipped as they flew, switching places like a street magician’s sleight of hand trick. Which cup is the quarter under? Which Nathanial and Kita are real? The audience rarely guessed correctly, and Nathanial was more than a street magician—he was an old vampire with a gift for illusion.
    But Tatius was ancient.
    We glided toward the door, invisible, undetectable. The doppelgangers were mere distractions. They darted closer to Tatius, feigning attacks, drawing his attention. We couldn’t fight Tatius and win—that had already been proven. But maybe we could still run.
    Under my hands, I felt the strain tingling along Nathanial’s skin, the tension stiffening his shoulders. He’d told me once that he couldn’t maintain a moving illusion more than a few feet. We were now yards from the darting copies of ourselves.
    One of the feigned attackers dashed at Tatius’s back. Tatius spun, his dagger disappearing into the fake Nathanial’s chest.
    The real Nathanial shuddered, his arms tensing around me.
    The impaled copy vanished.
    Tatius whirled and planted the dagger in another illusionary chest. Another doppelganger disappeared. Only four remained. Our slow glide toward the door picked up speed. Tatius spun. The dagger flew through the air, straight at us. Nathanial careened sideways, the dagger slicing through the material of his tux before burying itself halfway to the hilt in the door.
    Found you, Tatius’s smug voice said inside my head.
    I swallowed hard, clinging tighter to Nathanial. Tatius lifted his hand, not even the smallest bit of green left in his eyes.
    He ignored the illusions darting at him, his intense gaze fixed on us. Nathanial’s fangs flashed, his pupils expanded, turned his eyes black.
    The doppelgangers disappeared. Nathanial’s flight path changed. He was pouring all of his energy into making us invisible, but Tatius’s eyes tracked our movement.
    A smirk twisted Tatius’s lips, and he clenched his fist as if snatching a butterfly out of the air. Nathanial froze. Then the ground jutted toward us as we dropped.
    I crouched, absorbing the impact, but Nathanial hit the carpet hard, his body crumpling like a boneless doll—or like a puppet with limp strings.
    Horror twisted my stomach as Tatius strolled across the room, casual-like, to retrieve his dagger. Nathanial never moved. My hands trembled as I reached down and lifted him under the arms. His pulse pounded against my palms, so he was alive, but he was dead weight. Only his eyes, wide and locked on me, showed he was conscious.
    Dammit.
    He couldn’t move. He would have if he could. Tatius had control of his body. And speaking of, Tatius was almost upon us. I looked around. I was strong and fast, but Nathanial hadn’t been a match for Tatius, and Nathanial could kick my ass while reading a book. Think of something, dammit.
    Nothing emerged from my panicking mind. Which meant I was winging it or dying. Maybe both.
    I lowered Nathanial and he slumped forward like a ragdoll.
    Tatius, still strolling, was less than a yard away, his dagger flashing in the candlelight. I stepped between him and