The Keeping Place (Book Six in the Witch Hunter Saga)

by Nicole R. Taylor

  “A feast?” he asked with interest. “Right away.”

  Sheera turned to Nye and Isobel and gestured for them to follow Hastings. “I expect to see you both tonight. It may not be to your particular tastes,” she said, her lip curling at Nye, “but your human will no doubt be thankful for a proper meal.”

  Nye practically glowered at the wolf and nodded. “Tomorrow, then. It has been a long day.”

  “Good,” Sheera declared with a wide smile. “It was nice meeting you, Isobel. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to get to know one another.”

  As Nye guided her from the room, his expression troubled, Isobel glanced over her shoulder at the alpha wolf as she watched them leave. There was smugness in her features that she didn’t like at all, and her stomach quivered.

  Something wasn’t right about this, she was certain of it.

  Nye walked hand in hand with Isobel through the castle, his nerves on edge.

  He hadn’t liked the idea of her accompanying him on this expedition, but she’d argued a very valid point. She was more than capable of helping in their quest, but the longer they dwelled in the Triskele’s lair, the more he began to feel uneasy about it.

  He knew he was going to stir some controversy with Sheera after turning up out of the blue, especially considering their convoluted past. The pendant was another ingredient in the pot, and he hoped Isobel would keep it hidden. He’d have to explain its significance sooner rather than later, but there was no time for it now.

  They emerged into the hall where they’d been received that afternoon and found it much changed. It had been converted into a grand dining room fit for a pack of wolves. Two long tables ran the length of the room, and one smaller one sat at the head, no doubt for Sheera and her inner circle. Every surface was laden with bottles of wine and beer, and plates of various meats were being laid out as the pack began to fill the room, eager to settle down for a riotous meal.

  As the noise level began to rise, Isobel’s hand tightened around his, her gaze darting nervously around the increasing number of werewolves.

  “So the Triskele are a large pack?” she asked. “Sheera saves all these people from turning during a full moon?”

  Nye sniffed the air. “Most of them, yes.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Did you just sniff them?”

  “Believe me, they smell terrible. You don’t want to experience it.”

  “Ah, there they are!”

  Nye turned at the sound of Sheera’s voice and dropped Isobel’s hand. She’d changed from her casual clothing into more formal attire—if leather pants, heeled boots, a corset, and a light wrap over her shoulders was considered ‘formal.’ She looked like she would fit in more at an establishment of the night than a werewolf pack dinner.

  Isobel tensed at the sight of the alpha, but she didn’t drop her gaze. Hold true, Isobel, he thought to himself.

  “Nye, you must accompany me at the head table,” Sheera said with a smile. “Isobel, darling, I’ve asked some of my most loyal girls to entertain you this evening. They’re great fun and a sight more interesting than boring talk between clan leaders.”

  Nye narrowed his eyes, knowing exactly what Sheera was playing at. She wanted to separate them and not because she was going to divulge a deep, dark secret.

  “Oh,” Isobel squeaked as three young women appeared and circled her. They began chattering happily among themselves, pawing at her fiery red hair.

  “You’ll be well looked after,” Sheera said with an obviously fake smile. “The girls are a great deal of fun. Aren’t you?”

  The youngest woman threaded her arm through Isobel’s and began guiding her away. Isobel cast a panicked look over her shoulder, and Nye nodded, signaling she should go. She’d be perfectly fine as long as he didn’t lose his temper. If he stepped out of line and caused a scene, Isobel would be the first to go.

  He didn’t like that they’d been separated, but there wasn’t much he could do to complain about it if they wanted Sheera to spill her secrets about her time with Eleanor. The alpha might hold the one piece of information that could save them all, and that was worth playing her game…for now.

  “Isn’t this much better?” Sheera asked as they took their seats at the head table. “Now we can talk freely, you and I.”

  “We can talk freely with Isobel,” he spat, his fighters tightening around the stem of his wineglass. “There is no other talk we need to attend to other than what I came for.”

  “Isn’t the human your pet?” Sheera cast a pointed glance toward Isobel. “She’s a pretty thing, very much your type, I suppose. But isn’t she a little too fragile?”

  “No,” Nye replied, glancing toward the opposite end of the table where Isobel sat, a look of anger etched on her face. “She is not a pet.” Picking up his glass, he took a long draught of the earthy liquid to help calm his burning throat.

  Sheera pouted. “Then why did you bring her into my home? Wearing that pendant, no less.”

  “She is as much a part of this as I,” he said, ignoring her quip. “That is my fault, and she has as much right to seek revenge on the Unhallowed as any of us.” He set down his glass and raised an eyebrow at her. “Why didn’t you tell her the truth about your immortality? You know I’ll only reveal it to her the moment we’re alone.”

  “Which brings me to my next question. Why didn’t you tell her the truth about us?” When he hesitated, Sheera smirked. “See, Nye. We both have things that are best left to secrecy.”

  “Four hundred years of living takes a long time to divulge,” he retorted. “If it’s not important, I forget it.”

  She laughed loudly, throwing her head back for added benefit. Across the room, he caught Isobel’s eye. She looked positively sick to the stomach.

  “I’m here for information on the Unhallowed. Nothing more.” He turned to face Sheera, his gaze burning into hers. “There’s no way you would have missed Eleanor’s return.”

  He snatched her right hand and shoved up the sleeve of her blouse, revealing the rune seared into her flesh. A circle slashed with an inverted triangle crossed with three diagonal lines. The mark of an Unhallowed spell.

  Sheera’s lip curled in annoyance, and she pulled her arm away. Leaning in, her gaze dropped to his lips, and her tongue darted out to lick her own.

  “The Unhallowed gifted me with immortality while they still held their humanity,” she said, her finger tracing a path along the back of his hand. “I performed a task for them, and they rewarded me with my greatest desire.”

  “Power,” he drawled.

  “And you don’t like a little of it yourself? Aren’t you the leader of the London vampires in Regulus’s stead?” She tsk-tsked and picked up her wine, pressing the glass against her lips.

  “Believe me, it wasn’t without a great deal of reluctance. I’ve seen what power does to people. Before and after I became a vampire.”

  “Oh, Nye, it all depends on what you do with it.” She lifted her glass again, taking another sip. “What are you going to do with your power? I have a pack. You have an entire city.”

  “So what did she have you do?” he drawled, ignoring her question. It was blatant bait for a fight, and there was no way he was falling for it, not while Isobel sat across the room among fifty sire-bound werewolves. “It must’ve been a particular brand of fucked up if you got immortality and a get out of wolf-jail free card for your pack.”

  Sheera’s lips curved into a sly smile. “Remember the time we were holed up in that cave off the coast of the Isle of Skye? The Unhallowed were tracking you if I recall correctly. You’d become separated from the Six, and there I was, ready and waiting to save the day.” He tensed as he felt her foot wrap around his ankle. “The cave was a natural blind spot, and the rock reflected their magic, hiding us away until they’d retreated. The tide came in swiftly that day, brought by a torrential storm. How long were we trapped there by the waves? Two, maybe three days?” She traced a fingertip along his neck, applyin
g pressure against his jugular. “I remember you were hungry…and not just for blood.”

  “That was a long time ago,” he said thinly, brushing her hand away. “Things were different.”

  “I believe it was about two hundred years ago,” she said with a laugh. “I can scarcely remember. Do you find that? After a few decades, the years just…run together, and all you can think about are the moments of passion.”

  “Like I said,” he hissed. “Things are different now.”

  “I can see,” she said, the smile never leaving her lips. “Tell me, Nye. Have you had her yet? The human, I mean. Have you showed her what loving a vampire feels like?” She leaned closer still, her lips pressing against his neck. She moved slowly, tracing a path across his jaw and to his lips. “I know exactly how it feels. In that cave, when you were joined with me—”

  His hand shot up and grasped her face, pushing her away from him. She might be an immortal werewolf, but he was a vampire, and no matter how old she was, he’d always be stronger.

  “Enough,” he snapped. “I will not play your twisted games, Sheera.”

  She laughed softly, and her gaze flickered across the room. “Really? Then what have we been doing since the moment you sat down?”

  Turning, he followed the alpha’s gaze and found Isobel staring at them. Her expression said it all. Her beautiful face was twisted into a look of anguish as if he’d plunged his hand into her chest and ripped her heart clean from her body.

  Nye tensed, readying himself to rise, but Sheera’s hand slapped down onto his thigh, holding him in place. He watched helplessly as Isobel rose to her feet and strode from the room, her head held high.

  “You’re in trouble,” Sheera cooed, her lips curving in triumph.

  “What is this?” he asked, his temper rising. “Do you truly think I would bargain—”

  “Darling,” she interrupting him. “You’ll sit and stay like a good boy. I’m not finished with you yet. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

  Nye ground his teeth together, swallowing his anger. There was nothing he wanted more than to follow Isobel and straighten things out, but if he did, he risked losing Sheera’s good will, no matter how little of it he already had. Was this the cost of leading the London vampires? Was losing the only woman he’d truly loved the cost of protecting his city? Of protecting her?

  Chapter 7

  Isobel shut herself in the guest bedroom and resisted the urge to cry.

  Ever since the ritual, Nye had hardly touched her, let alone kissed her. That moment in the car had been a rarity, and it stung. She wanted to feel the same passion he’d unleashed the night he’d bitten her, but it never came. All she’d experienced was a keen sense of frustration.

  Sheera’s hands had been all over him, and he’d done nothing to push her away. Not until she’d kissed him in front of everyone. Did he come here in hopes of finding something to help fight the Unhallowed? Or was he exploring his options? Isobel wouldn’t be around forever, let alone look as young as she did now.

  Picking up the pendant, she turned it over in her fingers, bile beginning to rise in the back of her throat. It had been Sheera’s—she was certain of it. Why the hell would he let Gabby spell it, then bring her here, right to the scene of the crime? It didn’t make sense.

  Isobel couldn’t help thinking they’d always been mismatched in some way. She’d followed her heart and declared her love for Nye, but was it ever going to be enough to keep them together?

  Pushing off the door, she crossed the room and sifted through her bag, searching for her cell phone. Finding it right at the bottom, she unlocked the screen and scrolled through the contacts. Pressing Gabby’s number, she held the phone to her ear and waited for her friend to pick up.

  “Izzy, hey.”

  “Hey,” she said with a sigh.

  “Is Nye honoring his promise?” Gabby asked with a chuckle.

  “He never mentioned these people to you?” she asked, keeping her voice low. “Not even once?”

  “No. Why?”

  “I’m pretty sure the alpha, who is a woman, by the way, is his ex.”

  “What?” Gabby exclaimed with a snort. “Nye and a werewolf? That’s insane. Witches and vampires hate one another but vampires and wolves? That’s an all-out brawl waiting to happen. Alliances, yes, but romance? No way.”

  “Gabby, you didn’t see them together. She was all over him.” Isobel bowed her head, clutching onto her phone for dear life.

  “Don’t tell me you feel threatened by her?”

  “She’s a glamazon immortal werewolf, Gabby. How am I supposed to compete with that? I’m going to get old and die, and she’s going to look like a Victoria’s Secret model for eternity. Eternity.”

  She sank down onto the edge of the bed, her finger curling into the bedspread, which felt like a real animal pelt. She was all for acrylic when it came to cute, fluffy animals but werewolves? Isobel was beginning to wonder if skinning them for a quilt cover was the best idea out there. A Sheera quilt.

  “I’m pretty sure the pendant was hers,” she added, fighting back tears. “Why would he do that?”

  “Have you asked him?”

  She hesitated. “No, I haven’t had the chance.”

  “I’m all for innocent until proven guilty,” Gabby said gently. “Ask him. It mightn’t be as bad as all that. Have the wolves told you anything about the wraiths?”

  “No,” she declared. “From the moment we arrived, she’s done nothing but play games. She’s told us nothing about the Unhallowed. Nothing at all.”

  “Keep working her, Iz. If she wants to play games, don’t let yourself fall into her hands. Play back twice as hard. It’s easier to fight inequality in the human world. There, we’re only set apart by being women or by the color of our skin. Here, we’re set apart by our birthrights. You’re human, so you’re always going to have to be ten steps ahead of the curve. I wish it were easier, but that’s the truth of it.”

  “Great,” Isobel drawled. “Thanks for the constant reminder.”

  “Hey, I’m only trying to help. What else would you like me to say? Seduce Nye? That’ll get his attention. Strip off for him. That’ll soon fix his wandering eye.”

  “Gabby!” She was scandalized, but perhaps she was right. If she wanted to get to the bottom of their intimacy issues, then she’d have to push a little. But shove a vampire right into the situation that got her bit the last time? Tristan wasn’t around to heal her this time, only a pack of mangy mutts. Speaking of the knight…

  “Have you spoken to Tristan?” she asked. “Is he feeling any better? I feel bad for not seeking him out before we left. Nye was so flippant about it when I asked him.”

  “Listen, when you see Nye, could you tell him…”

  “Tell him what?” She didn’t like the tone her friend’s voice had taken. It was if… Something had happened.

  “Tristan’s gone.”

  Her heart twisted. “Gone? As in…?”

  “He left the night before your relapse,” she replied. “I don’t think he’s coming back, Iz. Not in our lifetime.”

  “Shit.” Isobel felt really bad for dumping her boyfriend problems on her friend when she was dealing with the loss of the knight. She didn’t know how close they’d been, but he’d helped her out in more ways than she cared to acknowledge. Being imprisoned in the manor and only having him around to bring her food and answers had made her fond of the Irish vampire. To think he was gone…

  “I’m sorry, Gabby,” she murmured.

  “No need to be sorry,” was her reply. “It is what it is. He needed to go so he could make peace with what Eleanor did to him. We can’t force him to stay.” There was silence between them for a moment, before Gabby said, “Listen, are you going to be okay?”

  “I’ll be fine,” Isobel muttered. “I’ll deal just as I always have.”

  “It’ll work out,” Gabby said. “Nye loves you. Everything he’s done…it’s been to protect you. Never fo
rget that.”

  “Right…” She sighed.

  As the call disconnected, she stared at the screen as it turned blank, automatically locking itself. When there was a sound at the door, she straightened up, her heart leaping as Nye entered. Dropping her cell, she rose to her feet as he closed the door behind him.

  “It was hers, wasn’t it?” she demanded.

  “What was?” He wasn’t surprised at her outburst, which meant he was expecting her to give him a hard time.

  “Don’t play dumb, Nye,” she snapped. “The pendant. Was it hers?”

  “No,” he replied with a growl. “It was not.”

  “I find it hard to believe when it’s a bloody Triskele pendant!” she almost shrieked. “I’m not stupid! I saw the way she looked at it, and I saw her filthy paws all over you.” She began to shake, tears threatening to burst forth in a torrential downpour. “She kissed you.”

  “You can’t be so foolish not to realize there were others before you, Isobel.”

  “A woman can hope,” she snapped.

  “It was unwelcome,” he said darkly, closing the space between them. “If you didn’t realize, Isobel, she separated us on purpose.”

  “I was…” She began to feel sick, the realization of what had happened out there slowly sinking in.

  “She would have had her little puppies tear you limb from limb if I didn’t play into her hands.” He stepped forward and grasped her shoulders. She attempted to twist away, but he was too strong for her. “After four hundred years, I was certain of the person I was. Who I was meant to be and then you knocked on my door…”

  “You’ve hardly touched me since the ritual,” she rasped. “You’ve hardly touched me at all.”

  “What do you want, Isobel?” he asked darkly. “I can do many things, but I can’t read your mind.”

  She moaned softly, curling her fingers into his sweater. “Do you really need me to say it?”