Izzy snorted. “Right now, I wish I was a geology major.”
“I have something,” Nye said suddenly.
The witch turned and stared at him. “You do?”
He nodded. “You’re sure we have nothing else?”
“Nothing one hundred percent viable on a tight turnaround. What kind of gem is it?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Ruby.”
“It’ll do,” Gabby said. “I’ll begin preparing the spell while you get it.”
“I don’t even get to pick the necklace I’m going to wear for the rest of my life?” Isobel complained. “It had better not be ugly.”
Nye flinched slightly, causing Gabby to pause. An uncomfortable Nye was something she’d never seen before. There was a story there, and by the way he’d reacted, a significant one, but there wasn’t time to press him about it.
As he ghosted from the study, she cast all other thoughts from her mind and focused on the spell.
One mammoth task at a time.
In the opposite wing of the manor, Nye stood beside his bed and held a little wooden box in his palm. He’d hidden it among his things for a very long time, never once opening it and revealing its contents.
Isobel would kill him if she knew where it’d come from, but it was the only thing they had right now that Gabby could use as a talisman. The stone had to be genuine and pure…and he now held the purest ruby he’d ever seen in his hands.
The lid creaked as he opened it, and for the first time in two hundred years, the amulet within was revealed. The last time he’d laid eyes on it was when he’d placed it on the soft velvet and closed it away, never intending to look upon it again. Why he’d kept it all this time, he never knew.
Nye picked it up, the silver chain slipping through his fingers like silk. The pendant was heavy, the Celtic knot expertly handcrafted with immaculate intricacy, and the ruby gemstone, set within its strands of pure silver and gold, bright. Its facets sparkled as he turned it in the light, memories he’d carried with it penetrating his mind. A lot of shit had happened in his four hundred and whatever years of vampirism. A lot of shit.
Dropping the pendant back inside the little box, he snapped the lid closed. It was no coincidence that things were happening the way they were. The resurfacing of the curse, the spell that could halt it, the pendant being the only item in the whole manor that was suitable… The universe, or Gabby’s ancestor spirits, was playing yet another trick on him.
Dammit. With Eleanor on the rapid rise to renewing her assault, he knew there was no avoiding it. They had learned nothing since the ritual and were floundering just as they had this entire time. The pendant had confirmed it, the sign blatant. He’d have to go see the Triskele.
When he returned to the study, Alex had appeared, and as per usual, he didn’t look happy.
“Here,” he said, handing Gabby the box and avoiding all eye contact with the founder. Alex remained silent, but he could feel the anger radiating off him in waves.
Taking his place beside Isobel, who had returned to the armchair, he placed his hand reassuringly on her shoulder. Whether he was attempting to comfort her in her hour of need or soothe his own pride, he didn’t know.
Gabby opened the box and whistled. “This looks old.”
“That’s because it is,” he replied.
Showing the contents of the box to Isobel, a pointed look passed between them, and Nye scowled. Women.
“Is it suitable?” he prodded.
“It’s perfect,” the witch replied, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Laying the pendant on the pages of her grimoire, she added, “The stone is completely flawless. How did you get it?”
“It was a long time ago,” he said flippantly, aware that everyone was staring at him. “I can’t remember.”
Thankfully, the questions stopped as Gabby got to work. They watched on as she began to mutter under her breath, speaking the words of the spell. Even if they could hear her clearly, there was no way he’d be able to understand the language she spoke. Obviously, witch speak could only be deciphered by a witch. No translation had ever existed for the mere fact magic had never allowed one to be.
Nye felt Gabby’s power charge the space around them as she progressed, her palm hovering over the pendant. For a moment, the air seemed to shimmer and flare before finally subsiding. Then she opened her eyes.
“It’s done,” the witch said, picking up the necklace and handing it to Isobel. “Give it a try.”
Isobel raised her hands, circling the chain around her neck. She fumbled with the clasp, cursing when she couldn’t get it to close, and Nye gently pried it from her fingers.
“Allow me,” he murmured.
She swept her hair aside as he lowered the pendant around her neck, the chain settling against her ivory skin. Securing the clasp, he let it go, his fingers brushing against her neck. It had to work…
He watched closely as Isobel picked up the pendant and turned it over in her fingers. When she was done examining it, she smiled up at him. Breathing a sigh of relief, Nye allowed his lips to curve into a returning smile.
“How do you feel?” Gabby asked, watching her friend.
Isobel shook her head and blinked a few times before saying, “Fine. I feel just fine. It’s like…” She glanced up and shook her head. “It just went away.”
The witch studied her for another moment and declared, “The curse has retreated, but the markers are still there. The pendant should hold it at bay as long as you keep wearing it. Damn, Gloria.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Isobel said wryly. “It’ll never leave my neck. Luckily for me, it’s pretty.”
Nye knelt beside her and remained stoic. “Good,” he said. “We can deal with that. It’s manageable.”
“Now what?” Alex asked. “Obviously Eleanor is powering up…”
Nye mulled over his past relationship with the Triskele and began to feel uneasy. They hadn’t parted on the best of terms despite their allegiance. Would they welcome him back? Would they even remember? Thinking about their fearsome leader, he knew she had a long memory. It was a fifty-fifty chance he would be walking into a snake pit.
“I have some old…friends I can meet with,” he said uneasily. “They have a past with the Unhallowed. They might be able to assist. There’s bad blood there.”
“Between you and them or the wraiths?” Alex asked with a sneer.
“The wraiths,” he shot back. “You might want to think the opposite of me, but I made many favorable alliances while I was the leader of the Six. It was a long time ago I met with them, and not all have forgotten.”
“Who are they?” Gabby asked warily, picking up on his apprehension.
“A werewolf pack.”
“Werewolves?” Isobel exclaimed, sitting to shocked attention. “Are you serious?”
“You’ve seen witches, vampires, fae hybrids, Celestines, wraiths, and zombies,” Nye declared, ticking each off on his fingers. “And you’re surprised to hear about werewolves?”
She settled back into the armchair. “Point.”
“They might not be entirely willing to help,” he went on.
“Then I want to go with you,” Isobel declared. “The curse isn’t a problem now, and I can help. I know people. If they need reasoning with—”
“Izzy, no,” Alex interrupted her. “If anyone is going with him, it’ll be me.”
“You need to sit on the bench for this one,” Gabby said to the founder. “You’re still volatile.”
“I’ll say,” Nye said with a roll of his eyes.
“I’m tired of being a burden,” Isobel argued. “It’s my life, you know. I have a right to fight for it as much as anyone else does.”
It was bad news, taking her into the Triskele’s lair while she wore that pendant, but it was part of her now. She would live with Eleanor’s poison for the rest of her life. Besides, she was right. She had every right to fight for her life. Why shouldn’t she come? He knew the Triskele and wha
t they were capable of, and if things went south—which was a remote possibility—he’d be there to protect her. Honestly, Nye knew he’d be in more trouble if he made her stay behind at the manor.
“Fine,” he said. “You’re with me.”
Her eyes brightened. “Really?”
“It’s not a field trip, Iz,” Alex grumbled.
“You’ve got this?” Gabby asked Nye pointedly.
He nodded once, secure in his assessment of the situation. “I’ve got this.”
Chapter 5
Gabby leaned against the wall of the garage, watching as Nye drove off with Isobel.
The roller door began to lower, but her gaze remained fixed on the space outside until it had closed completely. She didn’t like the fact her very human friend was going on a road trip with her vampire boyfriend to see a pack of werewolves. Especially since it had only been a few hours since she’d collapsed.
“I don’t like it,” Alex said, lingering beside her.
“Nye won’t let anything happen to her,” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest. “You need to cut him some slack.”
Alex grunted, then promptly disappeared, leaving her to wonder if those two would ever see eye to eye. It would be a miracle if they did. Both were very protective of Izzy. Thinking about the people who would die for her, she came up empty and shook her head. Her friends cared for her—of course, they did—but it was a far cry from the protection of true romantic love.
“Hey.”
She glanced up at the ghostly arrival of Reed, her thoughts scattering.
“How’s Isobel?” he asked.
Her brow creased. She didn’t know Reed had been in the house when Izzy had relapsed. “How…”
“I was looking for Tristan,” he explained. “I overheard.”
Gabby sighed. Reed had been good to them, regardless of his allegiance to Nye and the Six. He’d driven her around London without so much as questioning her intentions, he’d fought zombies in the garden, and guarded the manor against wraith attacks. Paired with his duties to Nye and the London vampires, Reed was a good sort. He’d been so good, in fact, that she’d forgotten he was able to lurk in the manor. Still, his unwillingness to share his past had her wary of reciprocation.
“Isobel is fine,” she replied. “She’s gone away with Nye for a few days.”
“He’ll look after her,” he said, smiling at her.
“I know.” Straightening up, she dusted her jeans with her palms. Sometimes, she forgot he was a vampire he was so…human-like. “So did you find Tristan?”
“That’s the thing,” he replied, looking worried. “He’s not anywhere.”
She frowned at the tone of his voice and stepped around him, pushing into the manor. “That’s stupid. He’s got to be someplace.”
“Trust me, Gabby. I looked.” He followed her as she forged a path through the hallways and up the stairs into the far wing. “I went to the pub. I went to the heath. I walked the streets he favors. I checked all of his usual haunts and nothing. Nobody has seen him since… Well, since you guys fought the Unhallowed.”
Dammit! She’d been so distracted by her work finding a cure for Isobel’s curse she had all but forgotten the knight. The compulsion Eleanor had put on him had violated him so irrevocably, he’d sunk into a deep depression. Nobody had gone to see him since Gabby had removed all traces of the spell. No one other than Reed. It seemed she owed the vampire another debt of gratitude. Still, it didn’t excuse the way she’d treated the knight. Tristan na Tri Tor was far from an afterthought.
“Tristan is…” She frowned again. “He’s not himself lately.”
“I’ve known the guy a while,” Reed said from behind her. “But in the last few weeks, he seems to have changed. This whole Unhallowed thing… Is there something else going on? Something Nye isn’t telling us?”
“Are you questioning your leader?” she asked, turning on him. Gabby knew full well they hadn’t let on how dire things had gotten with the wraiths, let alone they were gathering the power to come back. As far as Reed and the rest of London knew, the Unhallowed were toast.
“No, not at all,” he said, staring her down. “If there’s a problem, I want to be able to help fix it. Simple as that.”
Narrowing her eyes, she regarded him, her thoughts ricocheting between how handsome he was and a desire to understand why he was so unfalteringly loyal to Nye…and in turn, her.
She was just lonely. Always on the outer, Gabby had never really been part of the things she’d been fighting for. She had no coven, a family who despised she was a witch, she constantly straddled allegiances, and then there was the fact she loved a Roman vampire—one of the first, created by the witch who had betrayed her kind. Gabby just didn’t fit anywhere.
Despite all the despair she felt, she was the one who everyone turned to. The pillar who was meant to stand tall and strong, never faltering. How was she meant to do that when she was always set apart? Perhaps that was the very reason her friends looked to her for guidance…and maybe it was why she kept gravitating toward Reed. He was the only one who’d asked if she was okay.
“Fine,” she said warily before turning back to her path toward Tristan’s room. “But you’re going to have to give me answers sooner or later.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
Opening the door to Tristan’s abode, Gabby stepped inside. Immediately, she was overcome with the presence of the vampire, and her gaze moved around the space. She’d never really studied it before, let alone been inside without Tristan at her side.
The room was sparsely furnished, and no decoration marked the walls. Knowing the knight, she wasn’t surprised at the neatness. His time as a Knights Templar had been one of his defining moments as a human, and his training and values had crossed over when he’d turned. He’d spent long years marching with armies across Europe and what was now the Middle East on the Crusades, and traveling efficiently and as light as possible was pretty much his motto.
His bed was perfectly made, showing no signs of being slept in. The floor was spotless. Even the bathroom was devoid of soap scum and water spots on the shower screen. Opening the wardrobe, his clothes still hung inside, a few stray coat hangers littered among his standard uniform of black and gray shirts and slacks.
Running her fingertips across the surface of a shelf, she allowed her earth sense to trickle forth and probe the room. All the while, Reed watched her intently from the doorway.
Coming to a standstill by the bedside table, she picked up a small leather-bound book and flipped open the cover. It was a pocket-sized illuminated version of the Old Testament of the Bible. Handwritten, it must be…a thousand years old. It was worn, its edges frayed and pulling apart from the spine, the leaves of parchment torn and faded. She’d never seen it before, but for Tristan to have carried it for as long as he must’ve, it had to be special to him. Why leave it behind? Unless…
He’d lost hope.
Gabby didn’t have to search through his meager belongings to know he was gone. His intent had left an uneasy feeling in the air, her earth sense tingling with it. He blamed himself for attempting to take her life. He blamed himself for being susceptible to Eleanor’s compulsion. He believed he was weak. Oh, Tristan.
“He’s gone,” she muttered, placing the Bible back where she found it.
“Gone?” Reed asked. “Gone where?”
She shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“Should I begin a search?” the vampire went on. “I can rally the Six and attempt to find his trail. Nye will want to know.”
“No,” Gabby said, her heart feeling heavy with regret. “That won’t be necessary.”
Tristan was gone, and he wasn’t coming back. Not in her lifetime.
That night, Gabby couldn’t stop thinking about everything that had happened in the last few weeks.
Eleanor had resurfaced a lot sooner than she’d anticipated. At the earliest, she’d thought at least a few months would pass before
the wraith regained her power, not a fortnight! The other members of the coven—the wraiths who’d been present at the ritual—must’ve sacrificed themselves so Eleanor could survive.
There were good and bad things about that. The good thing was there was only one wraith to worry about. The bad? Well, the bad was that it was Eleanor. The biggest bitch in the entire world that had a grudge against Nye and everyone he held dear.
After finding out Tristan had left, Gabby had forced Reed to take her back to see Gloria. If anyone knew about the bad business of being a dark witch and profiting from it, then it was she.
As per their previous arrangement, Reed made himself scarce the moment he dropped Gabby off outside the earth witch’s apartment. He would wait in the wings, and when she was ready to depart, he would appear.
Standing on the stoop, Gabby cast one last look around the dark street, watching closely as a few cars swished past, then turned and knocked.
The door opened a moment later, revealing Gloria, and when she saw Gabby, she scowled. She wasn’t pleased with the repeat appearance, especially since it was announced. Bad things followed Gabby, and the witch obviously didn’t like any uninvited trouble worrying her at her age. Considering the people she welcomed into her floral wallpapered living room, the notion was almost comical.
“Oh, it’s you.” Her gaze took in the young witch with an air of annoyance, her gnarled fingers tightening around the edge of the door.
“Yes, it’s me.” Gabby had expected the attitude, especially since she had to strong-arm the little old lady into giving her the spell to save Isobel from the curse. It wasn’t on the list of her proudest achievements, but knowing the sweet lady in the fluffy pink slippers was selling legitimate curses for a few thousand pounds a pop, she let her conscience off the hook.
“Did what I give you work?” Gloria asked.
“Yes.”
“Then we’re done here.”
As Gloria went to shut the door in her face, Gabby allowed her magic to burst forth. The door swung inward, torn from the little old lady’s grasp, and banged against the wall.
The Keeping Place (Book Six in the Witch Hunter Saga) Page 4