by Deanna Chase
A slow thrum of pressure had started to build over my left eye as fatigue set in. I hadn’t slept in over thirty-six hours. Neither had Dax, I realized. I leaned my head against the cool glass and closed my eyes, seeking relief to my growing headache.
“Phoebe, wake up,” a voice said from far away. “Come on. We need to get inside, and Pandora needs your help.”
I jerked awake and blinked at Dax.
“Hey, sunshine. Welcome back,” he said.
I glanced around the empty Trooper, then out the window at Allcot’s mansion. “Eadric left his BMW back at that house.”
“What?” He frowned at me.
“Allcot’s car. He left it in English Turn.”
“No he didn’t.” He pointed to the car in front of us. “We dropped him off and he drove it here. You were sleeping.”
I blinked again. “Whoa. I was out.”
He gave me a gentle smile and helped me out of the Trooper. “Come on, sleeping beauty. Time to get back to work. Pandora’s waiting.”
“Right.” I scrambled out of the Trooper and followed Dax into the large mansion. I hadn’t ever actually been inside this home. It was new. Allcot had gotten a larger place now that Carrie and Beau Junior had moved in so that they could have their own apartment. Considering his last place had been at least four times as large as the home I shared with Willow and Tal, I found it all rather extreme. But it also proved Allcot was at least generous if nothing else.
The entry was all white marble with a large crystal chandelier. Rare artwork from long-dead artists hung on the walls. Just in front of us there was a grand staircase, and to the left, the entry opened up into a formal sitting room. I glanced around, looking for the army of vampires that usually hung out in his place, and found no one. Where were they? Footsteps sounded at the top of the steps, and I glanced up to see Carrie rushing down the stairs. Speak of the devil, I thought.
“Phoebe, there you are,” Carrie said, her eyebrows pinched together in worry. “They need you upstairs. Pandora—”
“I know. I’m coming.” Exhaustion had set in, and despite my short nap on the way back into town, my limbs were heavy with fatigue and it felt like three flights of stairs rather than just one. By the time I made it to the top, I was winded and longing for a glass of water and a comfortable place to sit down.
“She’s in here. The healer is waiting.” Carrie pushed open a set of double doors and led us inside.
The large room was decorated with red silk and rich mahogany furniture. I knew right away it was Pandora’s bedroom. She was lying on her bed, Allcot and his son David on one side and a woman with auburn hair piled haphazardly in a bun on the other side. She was wearing a robe as if someone had just dragged her from bed.
“Imogen, this is—” Carrie started.
“Phoebe,” the woman finished for her. The healer rose from the bed and walked over to me, her blue eyes taking me in. “I wish it was under different circumstances, but it’s nice to see you again, Miss Kilsen.”
“Healer Imogen. I wasn’t expecting to see you here at this late hour,” I said.
She gave me a tight smile. “I could say the same to you.”
Touché, I thought. “Sorry, didn’t mean to offend. I was just surprised.” When she didn’t respond, I glanced over at Pandora. “How is she?”
“Cursed. Eadric said you were adamant that with a healer’s help we could break the spell the sorceress put on her.”
“Right.” I produced my blade. “I have this. It’s the sorceress’s blood staining the tip. The only problem is my blade is laced with poison.” With the right magical skills, we could use the sorceress’s blood to reverse the curse, but the poison would be an issue.
“Damn,” she muttered.
“I think we can still make it work though.” I glanced around the room. “Can someone get us a bowl?”
“On it.” David, Allcot’s adopted son, rose from the bed and hurried from the room.
I walked over to Pandora and felt a rush of empathy as I watched Allcot tenderly wash the blood from her face, her neck, and her limbs. He whispered something to her the rest of us couldn’t hear. I hoped she could, but there was no way to tell as she just lay there, motionless, staring at the red silk covering the canopy of her bed.
“Here,” David said, popping up right beside me.
I smiled at the tall, handsome, dark-haired man. “Thanks.”
“Not a problem.” He walked over to where Carrie stood off to the side and slipped his arm around her waist. They’d started dating some months ago, and I was glad to see they still appeared to be happy.
Clutching the bowl, I slipped into Pandora’s en suite bathroom and partially filled the bowl with water while Imogen eyed me curiously. I glanced at her and asked, “Do you have any dandelion root in your bag of tricks?”
“Sure.” She disappeared back into the room and returned with a leather case of herbs. “Powder or leaf?”
“Powder.”
She handed me a container of the herb, and I sprinkled it in the water. “I’m going to put the dagger in the water, but I need your help to separate the blood from the blade. Can you do that?”
She nodded. “Tell me when.”
“When,” I said and dipped the blade into the water.
Healer Imogen cupped her hands around the ceramic bowl and started to chant. Her magic rose up around us, and suddenly all the tension of the past two days seemed to drain from my body. There was just something about her power that was so soothing. No wonder she’d chosen to be a healer. I’d been passed out when she’d worked her magic on me the day before. Too bad, because her energy was divine. Strange, I thought. Hadn’t I just gotten an uneasy vibe from her the day before? What had changed?
I watched as the blood separated from the blade and spiraled into a coil in the water and decided it didn’t matter. Not now. I’d take whatever help we could get.
Imogen glanced up. “Now what?”
“We have to let the dandelion root cleanse the blood of the curse.” I placed my hands over hers and let myself merge into her magical force. Our energies blended, and it was as if her magic was mine and mine was hers. It was a heady place to be.
“Phoebe?” she said on a whisper.
I glanced up to find her wincing and struggling to keep it together. “What’s wrong?”
“The curse on your dagger. It’s trying to probe my barriers, work its way inside me.” She grimaced and gritted her teeth.
“Shit! Sorry.” I closed my eyes and imagined the curse feeding back into me, rejoining with my magic where it belonged. Not with the healer and her pure energy. With mine and my already battered soul. The curse hung on to the sorceress’s blood, clinging to it, trying to feed off the evil there, but I whispered, “Mine!”
The binding shattered, and the curse boomeranged right back into me. I let go of the bowl and stepped back. “The blood is pure now. You can use it to deconstruct the curse on Pandora.”
She eyed me for a moment, concern radiating back at me. “But what about you?”
“What about me?” I asked, giving her a weak smile. “I can dispel it safely. It’s not something you can do. Remember yesterday when I finished healing my leg?”
She nodded.
“It’s basically the same thing. I’ve got this covered.”
Imogen appeared skeptical but nodded and rushed back into the bedroom.
I sat down on the edge of the tub, pressed my hand to my heart, and focused on the curse strumming in my veins. Dispelling the curse wasn’t nearly as simple as healing my wound had been. It had been concentrated in my tissue, not circulating in my body. But still, I had to try. If I let the curse remain, it would eat me alive.
Closing my eyes, I imagined a large diamond. In my mind, it shimmered under imaginary lights, twinkled like a beacon, called the curse to its sparkling facets. The curse burned as it ran through my veins, making its way to the diamond, its home where it belonged.
I
gasped and clutched my chest, trying to ease the ache beneath my breastbone. I’m not sure how long I sat there as the burning slowly but surely concentrated in my chest. The ball of pain grew and grew and grew until finally I could barely breathe.
“Phoebe?”
It was Dax. But I couldn’t talk. The spell lodged in my chest had cut off my airflow, and I started to gasp.
“Phoebe!” he said, alarmed. When I didn’t answer, he ran back into the room, calling for Healer Imogen.
No, I tried to say. I couldn’t let her work on this. It would taint her pure healer magic. She sat down next to me, but I flinched away, holding one hand up.
“Miss Kilsen, I can help,” she said patiently.
I was sure she could, but I wouldn’t let her. I shook my head and stood up. Something dislodged inside me and it was like a dam broke. Then suddenly the magic threatening to suffocate me burst from me and hit the large mirror with such force the entire thing shattered. My ears rang from the loud impact, and a couple of slivers of glass had lodged into my hands. I held them up, studying them, wondering if Healer Imogen was going to need to stitch me up again.
“Holy shit,” she said from her place on the floor where she’d ducked down. “That was one hell of a curse.”
I nodded my agreement and slid to the floor. Holding my hands out, I said, “Can you fix this?”
She was silent for a moment then very softly said, “Sure, Phoebe. Not a problem.”
I rested my head back against the cabinet and closed my eyes while her lovely magic stitched the wounds in my hands, my neck, and my face back together. When she was done, she patted me on the arm.
“I think you’ll live now,” she said.
“Good. What about Pandora?”
Worry swam in her eyes as she said, “I think she’s fine. She’s awake and alert, but she’s also nauseated and anxious.”
“That’s to be expected, right?” I said. “She was abducted and hit with a nasty curse.”
“Yeah, I guess so. It’s just that my magic usually solves all those minor side effects. I’m worried that if it didn’t, I might not have gotten all of the curse.”
I pushed myself up and held a hand out to her. “Let’s go find out.”
Once we were back at Pandora’s side, I realized why Imogen was so worried. Pandora’s normally flawless features look haggard. There were bags under her eyes and the wounds on her arms and legs were still prominent. She was a vampire. Her wounds should have healed almost instantly.
“Pandora,” I said, sitting down next to her. “How are you feeling?”
“Better, exhausted. Still out of sorts,” she said.
I touched her forehead and let out a soft curse. She was burning up, making her the only vampire in New Orleans who wasn’t room temperature. I looked up and met Imogen’s eyes. “She’s still spelled by whatever that sorceress hit her with.”
“But I… I could’ve sworn I got it all.” She pressed her hand to her throat and closed her eyes. “I should try again.”
“I don’t think it will help,” I said. “I think her body just needs to burn it off. She is a vampire after all. Immortal, remember?”
“Yes, but—”
Before she could get the words out, Pandora sat straight up then hopped out of bed. She opened her closet, revealing her vast supply of clothes, and said, “Get cleaned up. All of you. It’s time to go get Willow and Talisen.”
22
“Truss him up,” Allcot ordered.
We were in a windowless room on the first floor of Allcot’s home. The group of us stood in a circle, surrounding Bandu while two of Allcot’s security team shackled the shifter and hung the chains from hooks in the ceiling, much like the pack leader had done to Pandora over the past thirty-six hours.
“Poetic justice,” I said softly to Dax.
Pandora, who still wasn’t one hundred percent healed but was looking noticeably better than she had back at the Gothic house where she’d been held, stood next to me and scoffed. “He deserves to have his dick cut off.”
“After we interrogate him, love,” Allcot said, brushing a long lock of her blond hair over her shoulder.
Dax and I shared a glance, and I took a small step away from Pandora, slightly unnerved by her vicious appetite for revenge. Not that the shifter didn’t deserve what she had planned for him. It was just so… violent.
Leo stood across from us, his arms crossed over his chest, gaze fixated on the pack leader. Hatred and disappointment radiated from him in volumes. Healer Imogen, Link, and David filled out the circle, waiting for the interrogation to begin.
“All done, boss,” one of Allcot’s men said. “Need us to stick around for backup?”
“You can wait outside the door. Thank you, Harrison.”
The giant dark-skinned man nodded once and slipped out of the room.
No one said a word as Pandora walked right up to the shifter and stared him in the eye. The low hum of the fluorescent lights illuminating the room filled the uncomfortable silence until Pandora unexpectedly spat on the shifter.
Bandu jerked his head back, startled, but didn’t make a sound as the pink-tinged saliva trickled down his face.
“You will suffer for what you did. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
Bandu’s dark tortured eyes met hers and he said, “I already am.”
She let out a humorless laugh then slapped him hard across the face. “You don’t know what suffering is quite yet, but you will.”
He was quiet this time and she took a step back. “Now,” she said, her demeanor all business. “Where are Willow and Talisen?”
Bandu shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“He’s lying,” Leo said from the other side of the room. “He told Dali he’d be unavailable until late tomorrow night. Said he had something important to attend.”
“Of course he is,” Pandora agreed. “I overheard him talking about going to the ritual.”
Allcot stepped into the circle and took his place beside Pandora. He eyed the shifter. “Would you like to start talking or move straight to the torture portion of this production?”
“What difference does it make?” Bandu asked. “It ends the same way, doesn’t it?”
Allcot shot his hand out and grabbed Bandu by the throat. He didn’t squeeze hard, just held Bandu’s neck in his hand and moved the shifter’s face back and forth as he studied him. “Do you think you’re going to die tonight, shifter?”
“I don’t think I will, I know I will,” he said, meeting Allcot’s gaze. “It’s inevitable.”
The two continued to stare each other down. Then Allcot let him go and said, “He’s not going to tell us anything. This is a man prepared to die.”
I had to agree. The shifter wasn’t upset. He wasn’t fighting or bargaining for his life. He was resigned. The question remained though—if Allcot tortured him, would he give up Carter Voelkel and the location of Willow and Tal? Maybe. But I had a better way.
I turned to Imogen. “You up for some more magic tonight?”
The healer blinked. “What’s wrong? Is the curse still bothering you?”
“No, no. Nothing like that.” I waved a hand at Bandu. “I can do a memory spell if I can siphon some of your power.”
Her eyes widened, and she took a small step back. “I don’t—”
“Yes, a memory spell,” Pandora said. “Do it.”
“I don’t— That’s not something I think I can do,” she said.
“Sure you can, Imogen,” Pandora said impatiently. “You owe us that much.”
The healer frowned, clearly uneasy, but stepped up beside me anyway.
“What was that about?” I whispered to her.
She shook her head. “Let’s just get this over with.”
“If you’re sure…” I pulled out a small vial of herbs that Willow had spelled for me not long ago. She had the ability to magically infuse plants and turn them into useful edibles. She made things like Moch
a in Motion, a drink that refueled a person’s energy, and Orange Influence, a substance that had the ability to control a person’s will, though that one was highly controlled by the Arcane. But the herbs, they were a special concoction she made just for me for when it was absolutely necessary to interrogate someone—someone whom the Void would never get to talk. Someone like Bandu where the information meant life or death.
“She’s sure,” Pandora said. “What do you need?”
“Anyone have a mortar and pestle lying around?”
Imogen sighed. “I do.” She turned and started walking toward the door.
“Wait,” Pandora said as she pulled Allcot’s phone out of his pocket. She texted in a message and a second later handed it back to him. “Someone will bring us one.” Turning to Imogen, she added, “Work out the plan with Kilsen.”
I frowned as I watched a silent exchange pass between them. Again, I wondered what was going on. What did Imogen owe them, and how had they managed to get her under their thumb? Resentment for the vampire couple, despite their help, curled up in a ball in my gut and sat there like a rock. Their contradictory actions never failed to piss me off. One minute they were helpful and the next they were forcing people to do shit against their will.
Vampires sucked.
“I assume you’re going to use blood magic?” Imogen asked me, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Yes. But only his. What I need from you is a power boost. So that thing you did earlier when you helped to heal me?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll need something like that. The herbs Willow infused for me are great, but they require a larger power boost than I can summon.”
“Oh.” Her arms fell to her sides and she relaxed. “Is that all?”
“That’s all,” I said, glad she seemed more at ease. If she’d been sure I was going to use her blood for the spell, that would explain some of her reluctance. Blood could be used for a lot of spells, most of them pretty nasty. And every witch I knew was extremely wary of letting their blood get into anyone’s hands, much less a fellow witch.