by Lana Sky
Ice fluttered across my cheek. A finger?
“I can hear your pulse racing,” its owner taunted. “Do hurry. I would hate for you to miss the show.”
I peeled my eyes open. As I blinked, my vision quickly adjusted, focusing on the beautiful creature watching me from a seated position nearby. Dmitri, his eyes flickering with mischief. Propped on his lap was a newspaper he was pretending to read while the two other occupants of the room argued nearby.
One of them I instantly recognized, his voice a growl. Dublin. He was standing near a wood-paneled wall at the back of a small, modestly decorated sitting room.
“I don’t want to fight with you,” he warned. Even in anger he seemed to be trying his best to refute the figure standing opposite him without shouting.
“You had no right!” the woman hissed, her musical accent beautiful even while shaking with rage. “How dare you even—” She broke off and flashed a strained but friendly smile in my direction. “Oh, hello, Eleanor. I’m glad you’re awake.” A heartbeat later, she rounded on Dublin again. “How dare you?” Raw pain sucked away some of the youth conveyed by her features. She looked old, aged overnight in a demure gray dress devoid of her usual flair. Her hair hung loosely around her face, swinging through the air as her hand lashed out and collided with Dublin’s jaw. “You had no right. And I don’t even get the courtesy of a full explanation—”
“I’m trying to explain now,” Dublin insisted. “If you would just listen—”
“Listen?” Yulia threw her head back and cackled. “What? Are you going to exert your ownership of me again?” Her tone was ice. “I have always trusted you with my life. You have never given me a reason not to. But if you ever yank me around like this again, you will no longer have a loyal servant to do your bidding. Goodbye, Eleanor.” With one last genuine smile in my direction, she stormed off through a nearby doorway.
“What happened?” I struggled to pull myself upright, staring after her.
“I happened,” Dmitri mused without looking up from the current page of his paper. “Dearest Yuliana seems to be unwilling to let bygones be bygones. Even if her beloved new master puts his boot to her backside.”
“Don’t.”
I shivered at the warning lacing Dublin’s tone and my gaze flickered to him. He was Mr. Contractor once again, reinforcing his ownership over a soul in his possession.
“Remember what I told you?”
“Yes,” Dmitri sighed, rustling his paper. His bright-teal suit diminished his attempts at seeming modest, however. As did his ever-present smirk. “No looking. No touching. No thinking—”
“And don’t you dare say her name, either—” Dublin broke off, finally seeming to notice me. He took a step toward me, his hand outstretched. “How do you feel?”
“Fine,” I croaked, still staring after Yulia. I sensed that her anger had something to do with the snippets of conversation I remembered before I’d drunk the drugged liquid. Smuggling, Dmitri had said.
I glanced down, noticing my surroundings for the first time. No longer were we in Raphael’s lair. There were windows, for one, revealing a view of emerald trees and blue sky. The décor lacked any serpentine accents, instead consisting of dark, muted colors and simplistic furniture. I lay outstretched on a leather couch matching the style of the chair Dmitri was occupying.
And from here, furious footsteps were audible, storming deeper within the structure.
“Is she all right—”
“She’s fine,” Dublin snapped.
“She’s upset. Is it because you made her help you take me from Raphael’s?”
“No,” Dublin admitted. “It’s a bit more complicated than that.”
“Complicated?” Dmitri folded up his paper and flashed a beautiful, chilling smile. “No, my dear. It wasn’t making her ‘escort’ you with her poor, old master. It was ordering her to, utilizing the power of her contract. Even if she wanted to—which she very much did—she couldn’t resist a direct command. All to ensure that dear Eleanor Gray remained safe and sound. I suppose that’s the only reason why she hasn’t snuck a curse into your suit jacket yet,” he added, stroking the collar of his flamboyant jacket. “Nasty stuff. I know firsthand how devious her little brain can be—”
“Enough.” Teeth bared, Dublin shot him a withering glance. “Do I need to remind you again of your boundary?”
Dmitri visibly shrank into his chair. “I will remain on my absolute best behavior.” He returned to the depths of his newspaper, but I didn’t miss the devious tilt to his mouth.
“She’ll be fine,” Dublin insisted before changing the subject. “Now. What did you learn?”
Dmitri rolled up his paper and set it aside entirely. “Despite my unwilling accomplice, we were able to make some headway to my connections,” he murmured. “You probably don’t want to know the details. Something involving a cursed negligee… Regardless, we did discover one kernel of information.”
Dublin’s eyes flashed and narrowed. With just a few lethal nuances in his expression, he made impatience into an art form. “And?”
“Our quarry lies in Leon, not far from here,” Dmitri admitted. “It’s a fitting hiding place, the rural wilds of France. Rumor has it she’s made her home amongst the witches who still dwell there. Though it could be an elaborate ruse and she could be living under a bridge in some city in the States. You know how she loved her mind games.”
My head was spinning. Witches. Quarry. France.
“Who are you talking about?”
The two men shared a look.
“Answers, my dear,” Dmitri finally said. “As to your…condition.” He nodded toward my stomach. “From the very witch who may have set it into motion, so to speak.”
Answers. I looked to Dublin and he said nothing. His jaw was clenched, his eyes thoughtful.
Licking my lips, I asked, “How do we find her?”
“Well, we hunt her down,” Dmitri said wryly.
Dublin, however, didn’t seem convinced. He paced, his eyes focused on a section of the wall. “How accurate is this information?” he demanded of Dmitri.
The vampire shrugged. “You’d have to ask dearest Yuliana of that. I’m sure you won’t trust my assurances—”
“It’s true.” Yulia appeared in the doorway of the room, her arms crossed. I’d never seen her so cold, her eyes frozen over, devoid of emotion. “I made sure of it. But I can recognize embellishment as well. There is every possibility we’re being misled. After all, to stay undetected for centuries, I’m sure Adara has taken the proper precautions.”
Dublin nodded once and met her gaze. “Thank you.”
Yulia said nothing, but she didn’t storm off again, either.
“So.” Dmitri clapped his hands once and rose gallantly to his feet. “When do we leave? An adventure, how exciting—”
“Who said anything about you coming?” Dublin shot him a look that made even his cheerful façade crack a bit.
“Ah, but remember my price, Dublin.” He fingered the white pocket square accenting his breast. “My assistance has not come cheaply. Think of it as a loan I expect to be repaid in full. Besides.” He shrugged. “You don’t even like witches, apart from the person whose name I am forbidden to mention. Especially her—”
“Fine,” Dublin snapped. “We’ll leave in the morning.”
Dmitri beamed. “Oh, excellent!”
Yulia crossed her arms, her gaze fixed on the wall—coincidentally avoiding both men in the process. “Am I still under your command, master?” she inquired coldly.
“I would like you to stay,” Dublin admitted. “As my friend—”
She stormed from the room. Dmitri snickered, fiddling with his paper once more—until a glowering stare from Dublin made him lurch to his feet.
“I suppose I will excuse myself as well,” he simpered while exiting the room.
I sat there awkwardly, drawing my knees to my chest. “You’ve royally pissed her off,” I remarked. I racked my b
rain, but I doubted I’d ever seen her frown, let alone furious.
“For good reason,” he admitted. “I’ve never invoked her contract against her before now.” He sighed and drew himself up to his full height, his jaw set in determination. “But she won’t stay angry for long.”
“What is her past with Dmitri?” I wondered. Though did I really want to know? On the surface, the other vampire seemed more mischievous than vicious. But even I knew that appearances could be deceiving.
In his own way, the vampire seemed more than matched with Dublin in the potential for sowing chaos and pain.
“He owned her,” Dublin said, phrasing the words as carefully as he could. “Once. It was not a mutual partnership, if you can’t already tell.”
I nodded, hunched over my limbs. My shoes were off, and a thin blanket crumpled at the end of the couch made me suspect that someone originally draped me beneath it. “What did he do to her?”
“He abused her skills for his own gain and warped her mind just as viciously as Mero’s poison did yours.”
I cringed. Even now, that crippling, whispering doubt still snuck into the silence when I least expected it. You’re worthless, Eleanor. A part of me feared it would never completely cease—and Dmitri seemed more than capable of such manipulation. I could still picture the dazed girl he’d brought to the opera, fully under his sway.
“That’s horrible,” I rasped.
“Neither of them will ever harm you again,” Dublin swore. He was beside me in an instant, brushing his fingers along my hand, including the one sporting his ring.
“Tell me.” I curled my fingers around his and marveled at the sight of my slim ones, intertwined with his larger, albeit more graceful appendages. “Tell me what happened between them.”
“She was devoted to him,” he said. “Wholly. Perhaps he thought she loved him? Either way, he enjoyed testing her, pushing her skills to their very limits. He would have her dress in clothing designed to tempt men and women alike and watch her struggle to ward them off. He would pit her against other witches with her skill and punish her should she fail.” He frowned at the memory and I felt my heart lurch. Any cruelty that could arouse even Dublin’s pity had to be unimaginable. “One night, he went too far and I intervened.”
“And then you offered her a contract?”
He frowned. “Let’s say I made Dmitri an offer he couldn’t refuse.”
“And she’s been with you ever since?” I spoke softly, lost in thought as I tried to imagine just how old Yulia might be. She looked no older than I was on the surface, but there was no mistaking the ageless wisdom glinting in her gaze. “All this time and you’ve kept her away from him, I’m assuming?”
Dublin said nothing, though he didn’t have to. I could already guess that part of the tale. Yes.
“And she’s upset because you made her face him now,” I suspected. But no, it was more than that. “You forced her to—”
“I had to.” He didn’t sound even remotely apologetic. Guilty, yes, but his eyes burned as determinedly as ever.
It was a harrowing reminder: He was more than willing to sacrifice even the trust of his few friends in order to get what he wanted. Which, in this case, seemed even more obscure than usual: the location of someone who might or might not be found there anyway.
“But she will forgive me,” he said, sounding more than confident of that. “She’s strong enough to face him, or I would never allow him in her orbit. I suspect her unpleasant reaction is merely her fear. He controlled her for so long, I wonder if she doubts that she can withstand him, even now?” He inclined his head, mulling over the prospect. “She’s known all along that she would have to face him eventually. That he still holds some part of her soul she can never erase. Running from him could stave off the inevitable for only so long.”
The wistful, deepening note in his voice warned me that he wasn’t solely speaking of Yulia and Dmitri anymore.
“That’s remarkably astute,” I admitted. “For a man who is keeping the poor, innocent woman in his protection away from her only sister.”
He flinched and dismissed the comparison with a shrug of his shoulder. His voice low, he countered, “Dmitri would never pose the risk of killing Yulia.”
Fair enough. I swallowed hard, tearing my gaze away.
“Why go through all this trouble anyway?” I wondered, returning to our previous, safer, topic.
He sighed. “As Dmitri said, we needed information. A way to reverse—” He broke off, forming a fist with the hand he withdrew from me. “Just trust that my reasons are more than valid.”
Rather than press the issue any further, I settled deeper into the leather cushions beneath me and watched the breathtaking scenery from the nearest window. “Where are we?”
Somewhere far more beautiful than the grim interior of a vampire lair, at least. Silvery clouds streaked with violet painted the edges of the navy sky. The sight reminded me of Dublin in a way: dark except for a few barely imperceptible dashes of color. Beautiful. Frightening. Navigable only with courage and ample skill.
“Somewhere safe,” he replied, his back to me. “Somewhere safe…in the rural of France.”
“Ah,” I croaked, somehow not surprised. Apparently, Dublin had a knack for amassing reclusive properties—as well as for transporting an unconscious woman across the globe.
At a glance, this house appeared smaller than the last, yet the plain décor seemed cozier than even his lavish high-rises and manors.
“A tour?” I requested, extending my hand.
He took it, helping me to my feet. Whatever drug he had given me had little aftereffects, thankfully. I felt steady as I fell into step beside him.
The foyer was small, the walls inside reflecting the simplistic design of the sitting room. Hardwood and soft gray cast a neutral elegance. I was instantly endeared.
“Your room is at the top of the stairs,” Dublin told me, nodding to a grand oak staircase straight ahead.
“And mine?” Dmitri wondered.
I jumped, turning to find him standing uncomfortably close behind me. His eyes sparkled, his lips quirking as he folded his arms over his chest.
“There’s a shed out back,” Dublin replied without missing a beat. He continued forward, leaving the foyer to show me the rest of the house.
There was a dining room, a modest kitchen, and a parlor-slash-library. Overall, it was a smaller dwelling, as suspected, but an air of security tainted the atmosphere, impossible to ignore. Something told me that Dublin had more of his shadowy agents already positioned at various stations. Watching.
And waiting.
Yet…
I couldn’t name what else was lingering in the air, taunting me as I followed Dublin up the stairs next. An inexplicable unease deepened the shadows stretching across the hallway. For some reason, I found myself holding my breath as he approached a closed door and palmed the doorknob.
“You can sleep in here,” he explained, pushing the door open.
Tension crept into my muscles, holding them rigid as I peered into the space beyond, wary of what I might find. Then…
I laughed, my eyes widened in shock. “Interesting color choice, Mr. Helos.”
The furniture was white. The bed, the wardrobe, the curtains, the sheets. Even the fur rug spread over the hardwood floors was a pale, delicate shade.
For all their brooding seriousness, apparently some vampires still retained a sense of humor.
“I thought you hated the color?”
“On you,” he admitted, but something in his gaze made me doubt that assertion. “I suppose it will do for décor.”
I grinned wickedly. “I should redecorate Gray Manor in the color scheme. White lace everywhere.”
He grimaced and I nearly clapped my hands in glee.
“Can you imagine?” I asked. “My room will resemble a biblical virgin’s paradise. I shall order doilies and I’m sure I could find a cradle that—” I broke off, confused by the carele
ss admission. Cancer had been a pathetic denial to cling to—I could admit that now—but the inverse of that claim terrified me far more. Even acknowledging it to myself was a struggle. God, I couldn’t even look at Dublin.
“I’m sure that could be arranged.” His finger slipped under my chin, lifting it despite my attempts. He frowned, brushing his thumb across my lower lip. “Though there are other rooms to choose from if this one doesn’t satisfy you.”
“No.” Pushing past him, I approached the bed and ran my fingers over the delicate duvet. “This is perfect. Though”—I bit my lip—“it’s just that this bed is so very large…”
“Oh?” His gaze was awaiting mine when I looked over, swallowing me whole, body and soul. “It might cause a bit of inconvenience on my part, but I think I can find a solution to that.”
Heat sweltered in my blood. The hand I braced against the bed involuntarily clenched, seizing a fistful of soft fabric. At the same time, he reached for the door handle, shoving it back.
In retrospect, the bed wasn’t all that big. His body had to curve around mine just to fit. Neither he nor I were prone to hugs. So the arm he allowed to fall across my hip was merely there by necessity. The cool fingers that brushed my belly were accidental.
The shiver that racked my body was entirely from his chill alone.
Nothing else.
Regardless, I slept, unplagued by nightmares, his taste on my tongue.
And I knew, even as I drifted off, that my mother’s iron-grip on Gray Manor’s interior would most definitely come to an end.
A Company of Witches
“Oh dear.” Dmitri’s narrowed eyes flickered along the length of my body as I descended the stairs the next morning. “This will simply not do. You are dressed all wrong.”
“How so?” I fingered the hem of my skirt. It was a sensible cut, exquisitely detailed though relatively plain. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Yes,” Yulia pitched in from the doorway, addressing him for the first time. Cold, her gaze slithered over his face as dispassionately as Raphael’s. “How so?”