Ancient Enemy

by Reus, Katie

  He frowned down at her, surprised she seemed to be breaking into this place. “I thought we were meeting your friend.” Some male. Rhys didn’t know who this Magic Man was, but the most primitive part of him didn’t like the thought of Dallas being friends with any man. Which was beyond stupid. He had no claim on her and never would. And even if he did, she was allowed to have friends of the male variety. But his beast was riding him hard right now, clawing just underneath the surface, in a rage that he’d clearly upset Dallas earlier. Something he felt bad about.

  “Trust me, he doesn’t mind if I do it. We have an understanding,” she said as they made their way inside.

  They’d only taken a few steps before they were in a courtyard that housed an oasis of colorful plants and flowers. Bursts of reds, purples, yellows and greens were everywhere, pots covering every surface. Maybe this Magic Man was a witch too, because none of these plants were in season right now. There shouldn’t be this much blooming before spring.

  “Dallas!” a rich, almost lyrical voice called from somewhere.

  “Come on,” she murmured, her boots thudding against the stone as they stepped farther into the courtyard, dodging hanging plants and planters.

  As they stepped around a small, potted palm tree, Rhys stopped when he saw a tall man with dark brown skin who had to be at least seventy sitting at a table, his long legs crossed at the ankles as he lifted up a small teacup to his mouth. He was dressed elegantly in a three-piece suit that Rhys could tell was custom-made. He also had on a wool newsboy cap that he took off as he stood and greeted Dallas.

  Dallas smiled, a huge grin on her pretty face, and the first truly open and genuine one he’d seen from her. Her smile was like the sun shining.

  “Thurman,” she said as she closed the distance between them and pulled him into a hug. “It’s so good to see you.” She squeezed tight as the man hugged her back and kissed her on the top of the head in a fatherly gesture.

  That eased his dragon’s claws back a bit. Not completely because his dragon was in a mood.

  “You as well. I have a treat for you.” He flicked a slightly curious gaze at Rhys, but showed no more interest in him than that.

  “Bourbon?” she asked as she stepped back and motioned Rhys to come closer. “This is Rhys,” Dallas said as she gave him a neutral look. “And this is Thurman,” she said, smiling at the other man.

  His dragon crawled under the surface, swiping at him. He should be making her smile, and it was his own damn fault that she was now wary of him.

  The man nodded at him once, a polite smile on his face. “Another dragon in the city,” he said as he held out a hand.

  Rhys frowned even as he took the human’s hand. A pulse of power rolled through the man but he was still human, Rhys was almost sure of it. “You know what I am?”

  “I do. I can see what you are underneath the surface.”

  Ah, a seer. They were rare, and though the man was still human, he was a little bit more.

  “To answer your other question,” Thurman said as he turned back to Dallas and motioned for them to sit, “I do have bourbon. The best money can buy. I’ve been saving it for your visit.”

  Dallas flushed a pretty shade of pink, clearly pleased as she sat down at the mosaic-topped table.

  “I’m delighted you’re in the city. How long has it been?” Thurman asked, sitting against his chair in a deceptively casual manner.

  “Six months maybe. I’m sorry I haven’t stopped by but the world went to hell and…” She shrugged.

  He reached out to place a hand over hers and squeezed. “And you’ve been busy on that farm of yours. I hear you’ve been working overtime making sure everyone’s crops get a little extra magic.”

  She blushed at his words and didn’t deny them. Rhys hadn’t realized she’d been doing that, because he didn’t know enough about her. And watching her now, so at ease with the human, he desperately wished they had that kind of relationship, that he knew everything about her. And not just because she could help him find his sister’s murderer.

  “So, you’re here to see me today about the dying humans?” he bluntly asked as he sat back.

  Rhys straightened even as Dallas jerked slightly in her seat. “Dying humans?”

  Before he could answer, a man who looked as if he could be related to Thurman—maybe a nephew—strode out with a small tray of three tumbler glasses and a bourbon bottle.

  He silently poured them, and once he was done, kissed the top of Thurman’s now hatless head and disappeared back through the myriad of foliage.

  “A toast first,” Thurman said, lifting his glass. “Then we’ll talk.”

  Dallas lifted hers so Rhys did the same as well. He would be able to smell poison anyway.

  “To friendship, new and old,” the older man said, clinking his glass with Dallas’s and then Rhys’s—a speculative look in his eyes.

  Rhys took a sip of the bourbon. Flavors exploded on his tongue—an oaky flavor, but with honey and sweetness. He found he liked it and so did his dragon, who purred in appreciation.

  “Tell me about the dying humans,” Dallas said as she set her glass down.

  “Not just humans. Vampires as well. Some are dead, some are dying, and more will die.”

  She sucked in a little breath. “How? Why? By who? Where?”

  He lifted a shoulder, but Rhys could tell the information bothered the man. “I just see their deaths. And blood magic. So much blood magic,” he whispered the last part.

  Dallas went still, the distress rolling off her potent. It was like little waves in the air.

  Blood magic was mostly done by witches, though some other supernaturals and even humans engaged in it as well. It was dark, evil stuff that ate your soul.

  “You’re sure?” Dallas said.

  “I know what I know.”

  “Does King know what’s going on?” Dallas continued.

  “I’m sure King knows a lot of things,” the human said before taking a sip of his drink.

  “Don’t be difficult,” Dallas chastised. “If you are, I won’t tell you my new growing spell.”

  The man’s dark eyes twinkled at her words and he set his glass down. “Fine, yes, King must know by now. I heard through the grapevine that he’s been to talk to Ingrid and others, so she’ll have told him.”

  Dallas frowned slightly. “The vampire?”

  Rhys recognized the name because he’d made it a point to learn about the different powers in the city, and if he remembered correctly, Ingrid was leader of the Cheval vampire coven.

  “Why are you telling me?” Dallas asked.

  Thurman reached into his jacket pocket and Rhys instantly tensed, the warrior in him ready to defend Dallas, but the man pulled out a piece of paper and pen. Instead of answering, he silently started sketching what ended up being a crest of some sort.

  He slid it across to Dallas, who simply looked at it and shrugged. “What is this?”

  It was an intricately designed coat of arms with four feathers slashed across the middle of it.

  “It’s very clearly a crest. The humans and vampires are being held in a place with this crest branded on it.”

  “We need to take this to King,” Rhys said. He might be on a quest for vengeance—and even now he wanted to demand that Thurman tell him everything he knew about Catta—but if people were being held and murdered, King should have enough of a pack to scour the city for this crest.

  Thurman held up a hand, motioning for both of them to settle back. “Only a witch can see this crest,” he said as he looked at Dallas. “It’s a spelled symbol, embedded at the entrance of where the humans and vampires are being held. You’ll be able to see it, not King’s shifters.”

  “Do you know who’s behind the murders?” she asked.

  “Witches. But I truly don’t know more than this. I’ve seen this in my dreams for weeks and then last night I dreamed you’d be coming here. I knew I had to tell you.”

  “I didn’t c
ome here about this.”

  He shook his head. “No, not about this. But this involves you nonetheless. That much I’m certain of.”

  She frowned, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “How?”

  “I don’t know. I just know that it does involve you somehow—and it’s linked to the reason you came here today.”

  Rhys was getting a headache at the human’s vague words.

  “I came here to ask you about—”

  “About another witch,” the man finished for her.

  Damn, he really had been expecting them, Rhys thought.

  “Yes,” Dallas said simply.

  The human flicked a glance between the two of them, his heavy gaze settling on Rhys for a long moment before he looked back at Dallas. “If you find this crest, you will find what you’re looking for.”

  All the muscles in Rhys’s body pulled taut. If they found the crest, they would find Catta? “You’re sure?” he demanded.

  The human watched him carefully. “You’re seeking vengeance. If you find this crest, it will lead you to what you desire.”

  At that moment, Dallas’s cell phone rang and she jumped a little. When she saw the screen, she gave them an apologetic look as she stood. “Let me grab this, it’s one of my neighbors. I need to make sure everything’s okay.”

  Rhys’s gaze lingered on the curves of her ass as she walked away, long-dead need pushing to the surface once more.

  “How do you like the bourbon?” Thurman asked Rhys, watching him with eyes that were far too old for the human male sitting in front of him. His gaze held centuries of knowledge and it was disturbing to see human eyes looking back at him with that much inside them.

  “It…reminds me of my homeland.”

  The man half-smiled, as if he’d known that.

  Which was disturbing as hell—and maybe it was the reason that the human had chosen this drink. “What can you tell me about the witch I’m hunting?” he asked, needing more information.

  “I’ve told you everything I know.” He cleared his throat, taking a sip from his glass, and Rhys had the feeling he’d been dismissed—as if he’d gotten all the information he was going to get. But then Thurman continued. “Would you like some advice from an old man?”

  Rhys nodded because he had a feeling that whatever this man had to say, mattered.

  “Soon you’re going to have a decision to make. Make the right one, or you will lose everything that matters to you.”

  Vengeance was the only thing that mattered to him. Before he could respond, Dallas slid back into the seat, seeming at ease, so her land and goats must be fine.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked nonetheless.

  “Yes, Hazel said the goats are doing fine, but she thinks they miss Willow.”

  “Is Willow this pet dragon I hear you have?” Thurman asked.

  “You really do know everything,” she said laughingly as she stood and motioned for Rhys to do the same.

  Apparently it was time to leave. He finished the bourbon, because there was no way he was letting the liquid gold go to waste.

  Thurman lifted an elegant shoulder. “Now what about that spell you promised me?”

  Dallas reached into her pocket and held out a folded piece of paper. “You won’t be disappointed. Thank you for the information. I’ll tell King everything you told me. He’ll have more information than I do, and hopefully we can narrow down where to look at least.”

  “Stay safe,” Thurman murmured, standing and pulling her into another brief hug.

  “You too,” she said as she stepped back. Then she cleared her throat, looking up at Thurman with curiosity. “You could have just told King all this, you know.”

  “I know.”

  She watched him a moment longer. “Why didn’t you?”

  “Because I told you.”

  She sighed and even Rhys knew they weren’t getting any more from Thurman.

  Rhys could barely contain himself until they’d stepped out onto the sidewalk, alone once again. “Do you think Catta is with this coven?” he asked as she shut the door behind them.

  He’d tucked the piece of paper with the crest drawing into his front pants pocket, as if having it close to him could somehow help them find Catta faster.

  “Maybe. But if she was in New Orleans I think I would have known by now. Thurman is almost never wrong, however. It sounds like finding this coven might bring us one step closer to who you’re looking for. He knew we were coming.”

  “And you are clearly not surprised by that.”

  She snorted softly. “I’m not surprised by anything that man knows. He’s better at spells than me, and he’s a human. It’s quite impressive.”

  “He’s also got a few years on you if I had to guess.” And he did want to know how old she was, but knew better than to ask outright.

  She lifted a shoulder. “A few.”

  She looked to be in her mid-twenties, but witches aged much slower than humans—and faster than shifters—so she could be anywhere from thirty to a hundred and he’d have no clue.

  The only thing he knew right now was that he was far closer to finding Catta than he’d been in years. He was so damn close he could taste it.

  Thurman’s words about having to make a choice rattled around in his head. He gave them heed, but knew that in the end if he had to die to get his vengeance, he would. If he lost his life, so be it.

  Chapter 11

  Catta looked at the photos on the cell phone screen and handed it back to Margaret before turning back to the bound vampire on the table in front of her. She dragged her blade across the writhing female’s forearm, watched the blood trickle down onto the platter under her body.

  “Well?” her subordinate asked, a dark eyebrow arched in question.

  As if she had the standing to question Catta. “Well what?” Her tone was dry as she took her attention away from her victim.

  She tossed her red hair back slightly, the action haughty. “She’s here in the city. I thought you said she never left her land.”

  Catta lifted a shoulder, unconcerned about Dallas. The child she’d borne was weak—one of Catta’s greatest disappointments. They could have ruled together, had immeasurable power. But Dallas had run away like the coward she was. “She has friends here.”

  “Yes, but she is with a dragon.”

  She stared at Margaret, not bothering to hide her annoyance at this line of questioning. She was beautiful and Catta had enjoyed fucking her on occasion, but couldn’t this fool see that Catta was busy? “And?”

  “What if she’s here to disrupt our plans?”

  “Please. She’s a scared little bunny who wants nothing to do with me.” It was a shame too, because untapped power simmered inside Dallas. But she’d never wished to open up her heart, her soul, to all of that glorious power. Instead she was so worried about doing good for others. Catta held back a snort. “How about you let me worry about her, and you worry about doing your damn job.” Fire flickered against her fingertips as she took a step toward Margaret.

  The other witch didn’t step back but she shifted nervously on her feet. “I’m not challenging your authority,” she said before ducking her gaze in subservience.

  “Sounds like you are,” she murmured, feeding on the fear that rolled off Margaret. She wouldn’t kill her, not now anyway. She still needed her, needed her power reserves if necessary. And Catta was all about playing the long game. It was how she’d survived in a world where witches normally only lived a couple hundred years, max.

  “It won’t happen again.”

  Catta turned away, dismissing her. “Good. But keep an eye on Dallas—without being obvious. I don’t want her or the dragon to know we’re watching.” Because she recognized that dragon. If he was still hunting her, he would be sorely disappointed. She’d managed to change her scent over the years. Not completely, but enough that he wouldn’t know her by scent.

  “Of course, mistress.”

  Catta dismissed he
r with a flick of her wrist and returned to the vampire she was currently draining of blood. She ran her fingertips over the writhing female’s cuts and sucked on her blood. Like fresh candy. There was no other taste in the world like it.

  And vampire blood was so much stronger than human.

  But Catta wanted dragon blood. Craved it. Had been desperate for it for eons. After the last dragon she’d killed, she’d ended up in a stasis of sorts until only decades ago. The dragon’s blood had been so strong it had forced Catta to go into Hibernation just like the dragons did.

  She’d learned to control it since waking up, however. And now she was more powerful than ever.

  Soon she would have everything she’d ever wanted. Immortality and the ultimate control over life and death.

  Chapter 12

  “I left a message with King.” Rhys tucked his phone into his back pocket as they strode through the open gates toward the mansion they were staying at.

  “I’m sure he’s dealing with a whole lot of things at once.” Dallas had been quiet on the walk back from the Quarter, seemingly lost in her own thoughts.

  “Yes. My brother is the same, always putting out fires,” he said, then chastised himself for opening up to her. He needed to keep his distance but it was damn near impossible at this point. He wanted to tell her about himself, and he’d already admitted the most painful memory from his past. Most of it anyway. And he wanted to know more about her—everything about her.

  This sweet female with her big heart who lived by herself on the outskirts of town—on the outskirts of supernatural society.

  “I can’t imagine being responsible for all those people. Willow is enough for me.” As if on cue, Willow flew down through the trees, letting out an excited chirp to see them.

  Dallas broke away from him and raced across the front yard as her dragon landed on the grass. She threw her arms around Willow’s neck, and the dragonling simply flapped her wings excitedly and nuzzled Dallas’s face.