Quintus (Immortals of New Orleans, Book 9)

by Kym Grosso

  “No, but you’re pale as fuck,” Quintus responded.

  “What can I say? I eat clean. Blood only. Stay out of the sun. This look works for me. Chicks dig it.” He smiled and patted his abs. “I keep it tight. Don’t look a day over twenty-five.”

  Quintus coughed. “You look every bit the ripe age of thirty.” He shook his head and gave a small chuckle. “There’s really something wrong with you. You know that, don’t you?”

  “My keen sense of humor makes life interesting.”

  “Real food makes life better. You need to remember your mortality.”

  “Overrated.”

  “I’ve got to go talk to Gabby.” Quintus blew out a breath. “She trusted me before this.”

  “She’ll forgive you.” Viktor exhaled a loud breath.

  The patter of water in the shower above drew Quintus’ attention. Is she still in the shower? He reached for her, aware she’d grown stronger, blocking him from her emotion.

  “I think there might be something…” Quintus went silent as he detected the scent of smoke. “What the fuck?”

  “Fire,” Viktor said, his eyes wide.

  “Get Mao! I’ll get Gabriella!” As Quintus dematerialized into the upstairs bedroom he spotted Gabriella underneath the covers of his bed. He ripped off the comforter, revealing the pillows beneath it. He tore across the room into the bathroom and glanced to the empty shower, the water still running.

  “Goddammit!” Quintus pounded an angry fist to the wall, shattering a nearby mirror.

  He quickly flashed to each room in the house, searching for her, as plumes of toxic smoke billowed into the air. He sensed Viktor had gone and materialized onto the street below. Viktor stood barefoot, his arm around Mao.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Quintus asked, directing his anger toward her.

  “A fire. Your wards aren’t as good as you think they are,” she countered.

  “Where’s Gabby?” Viktor asked.

  “She’s gone.”

  “What do you mean she’s gone?” he asked.

  “I mean she left.” Quintus scrubbed his palm over his scruffy cheek.

  “She did this,” Mao accused.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Quintus asked. He clenched his sweaty palms and dropped his fangs. “There’s no fucking way Gabriella would hurt me or anyone else for that matter.”

  “I told you. She’s more than what she’s telling you.”

  “Stop talking,” he yelled.

  “She’s a wolf. She’s jealous. She’d do anything to keep her mate. She’s losing you to me.”

  “Viktor, take her to the compound. Stay underground until I get back.” His club in Central Park had been fortified after a supernatural attack shook through it like an earthquake. He’d installed several holding tanks that could be utilized to house unruly customers. Although he hated to take drastic measures, Mao could be safely locked away in a comfortable but secure cell until his return.

  “You sure?” Viktor asked. “I could go to my place.”

  “Do it.” A pixiu, it’d be likely she’d attempt a formidable escape, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances to keep her in New York.

  “Sorry, Mao. It’s time to go.” Viktor placed his palms onto her shoulders and they dematerialized away.

  Quintus blew out a breath as the firemen stormed into the high-rise building, its occupants spilling out into the streets. Although Mao had attempted to plant seeds of doubt in his mind about Gabriella, there was no way in hell she could’ve done this. He detected dark magick in the smoke, ashes drifting in the air like snowflakes. Fucking hell. He prayed it was the Salem witches, Absinthe…anyone but Mao.

  He retrieved his cell phone and tapped a text to his friend who worked at the airport. Gabriella was resourceful but she underestimated his ability to track her. She’d go to the nearest airport, hop a plane to Paris. Although she had no money, he suspected she’d wield her magick to secure a ticket and get through security.

  Your girl’s booked a 5:30 flight to Paris. But Q, there’s no record of her passing through security. She’s using magick. His little wolf was resourceful, he’d give her that. But she’d put herself in considerable danger. He’d have to meet her, then later, he planned to spank her ass red.

  “Hey.” A voice broke his contemplation and he looked to the tall wolf approaching through the chaos. Now dressed, he blended with the humans.

  “You New Yorkers sure do know how to throw a party,” he commented, scanning the crowd.

  “Gabriella’s gone.” Quintus restrained the fury that burned through his body.

  “I won’t ask how she managed to escape but I’m not surprised. The energy on that girl is fucking sick.” Hunter sighed. “I don’t know what kind of witch she is but she’s not your average wolf.”

  “Our bond…it’s affecting her. Her magick is growing stronger but she’s green. She doesn’t even know the spells to harness her power.”

  “Your New York witch. She didn’t seem to let on that she knows about the Salem coven.”

  “Absinthe? She’s kept the peace here. That’s the most I can say. Her allegiance blows with the wind. Every favor comes at a cost. Don’t get me wrong. I’m no different. And Jax? He’s as tough as they come. We coexist but we don’t trust.”

  “You’re going to need to trust someone.”

  “Samantha maybe.” Quintus shrugged.

  “Luca’s girl?” the Alpha guessed.

  “Si. She’s new but she’s bonded with a vampire of my lineage. Ilsbeth?” Quintus gave a sardonic laugh. “She used to be a formidable ally but she’s been compromised.”

  “Sorry about your place but it doesn’t look too bad,” Hunter said.

  Quintus closed his eyes, concentrating on the life force within his building. “No one has died.”

  “You live with humans? Now that’s a surprise.”

  “I have many homes, wolf. But since you’ve agreed to come along for the ride, I’m going to let you in on a little secret. There’re things necessary to being a successful vampire, living thousands of years and not getting staked. Number one. Live among humans. I won’t ever forget what it’s like to be one. I’ve survived on them, but I live with them to remember where I came from.”

  “Number two?” Hunter looked up toward the flames.

  “Don’t ever trust an ancient. We have many secrets.” Quintus wished he had the patience to travel any other way, but he didn’t have time to mess around. He’d ask for forgiveness later.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Hunter asked.

  Quintus placed his hand on the Alpha’s shoulder and closed his eyes, dematerializing them across the Atlantic. Charles de Gaulle Airport. First, he’d trap his little wolf. Somewhere in the City of Light they’d find the bones of an ancient priestess and free Gabriella of the Salem witches.

  Chapter Ten

  Gabriella clutched at the trench coat, pulling it tight across her waist. The icy rain brutally lashed at her face as she held out her hand to hail a taxi. As the car slowed, she reached for the handle, swinging the door open and slipping inside its warmth. Gabriella shut it behind her, speaking in fluent French to the driver.

  “Villa Adrienne et Avenue du Général Leclerc s'il vous plait.”

  “Quel hôtel allez-vous?” he answered.

  “Pas d'hôtel. Aller au parc pour rencontrer un ami.” The lie rolled off her tongue. While it was true she was going to the park, she wasn’t meeting a friend. Nor was she going to a hotel.

  “Oui.”

  Gabriella stared out the window, disconnected from the conversation. Determined to get the bones of the first witch, she’d left on her own. After leaving the shower water running, she’d employed a simple cloaking spell, disappearing from Quintus’ home.

  On her way out the temptation was too great, and she’d followed voices. But as she approached, she heard the female and sensed the magick. In a stolen glance, she’d seen Quintus touchi
ng her breast. She’d fought the nausea, her wolf itching to shift, to attack. But she’d prevailed, taming the beast, and took off unnoticed. Quintus had guarded his home, but she’d easily passed through the doors. She suspected that since he’d drank her blood, the wards been compromised, allowing his mate free exit and entry.

  As soon as she’d reached the lobby, she’d conjured suitable clothing for Paris. Although she’d booked a commercial flight, she’d realized he’d easily track her. Always selling her blood, she didn’t have much money, but she’d kept a credit card in case of an emergency. She’d broken the bank, and arranged for a private flight to Paris. She’d paid the pilot to divert the landing to a small private airport instead of Charles de Gaulle.

  Momma, please help me, she prayed. Gabriella saw her mother in dreams, and was certain she still guided her magick. Although as a child she’d only learned simple spells, she’d meditate, and new magick would spill into her mind. She’d wished at times she’d grown up practicing her craft under the loving guidance of a knowledgeable witch, but alone on the streets, she hadn’t been afforded that luxury.

  As the cab rolled to a stop, Gabriella steeled her nerves. Lightning flashed followed by a booming roll of thunder. She glanced outside at the ominous weather. Although she’d be protected from the elements underground, she’d hardly be safe.

  “Merci.” Gabriella handed the driver several bills without confirming her fare and shoved out of the cab into the driving rain.

  She scanned the area for paranormal activity but didn’t sense active magick. Pedestrians buried their heads under umbrellas ignoring Gabriella as she stepped onto a path that led into a city park. She tugged at her collar, attempting to shield her face from rain. Cold drops pelted her mercilessly as she searched for an entrance.

  As she turned a corner, she noted the manhole next to a fountain. Thank Goddess. While on the plane, she’d researched different entry points into the catacombs. Although tourists entered into a formal cordoned-off area, others frequently trespassed through unconventional means.

  Drenched, she fell to her knees and placed her palms onto the manhole cover. She fingered the keyhole, attempting to lift it, but it wouldn’t budge. Try to use a spell, Gabby. Be smart. As a child, opening locked objects had been fun, but under stress she struggled to remember how to do it.

  “Come on. Open for me.” In her mind’s eye, she imagined it levitating. As if her hands were magnets, they pressed to the cold metal. She blinked away the rain, and blew out a breath as the heavy cover lifted inches, allowing her to wrap her fingers around its rims.

  “Oh thank you!” she exclaimed, shocked that it had moved. With both hands gripped tight on the edge, she flipped the lid over, exposing a dark hole.

  A knot formed in her stomach as she stared down into the darkness. Danger waited below, but the bones of the first witch called to her like a siren. Daughter of a witch, from a long line of witches, she was destined to end the coven’s hold on her. She’d break the cycle and take down the high priestess.

  Courage filled her chest as she swung a leg into the pit, her toe catching a rung of the steel ladder. Please Goddess, protect me, she prayed, slowly descending into the abyss. Hand under hand she gripped the cold metal bars. As she lowered herself into the ground, dank air wafted into her nostrils. How much longer? She estimated she’d descended three stories when her foot finally hit solid earth.

  Gabriella reached inside her jacket and flicked on a small flashlight she’d purchased at the airport. As her eyesight adjusted to the dim light, she scanned her surroundings. Graffiti painted the limestone walls of the open bunker. An empty wine bottle and cigarette butts littered the floor. Four arched tunnels led into the darkness, and she sighed, unsure of which one to follow.

  She closed her eyes, concentrating on her childhood, opening channels of her magick she’d long kept closed. The joyous celebration of the moon she’d enjoyed as a child had turned deadly once she’d shifted. But long before her wolf surfaced, her mother had included her in her rituals, exposing her to witchcraft. Gabriella smiled and pictured her mother happily adding various items to her altar such as herbs and candles.

  As Gabriella’s eyes blinked open, a sparkle of light flicked in the far-right tunnel. She cautiously stepped inside, careful not to trip on the crumbled pieces of stone in her path. In the 1700s, millions of corpses had been moved from cemeteries and put into the catacombs. Although most of the bones had been meticulously arranged in the ossuary during the late eighteenth century, the museum was only a small portion of the labyrinth. With hundreds of miles of tunnels, she hoped her intuition guided her well.

  Gabriella passed through an antechamber and stilled as she approached a gate. Through iron bars, she spied thousands of bones, the femurs and skulls artistically lining the tunnel. She detected whispers on the lips of those who she suspected were humans touring the museum.

  As she moved into the darkness, the hum of a familiar energy sizzled over her skin, and she detected the life force of her ancestors. Although recognizable, she didn’t sense danger as she deliberately trekked toward its source. Like a repeating mantra, it called to her. Minutes morphed into hours as she put one foot in front of the other, moving toward the energy. Lost deep within the labyrinth, Gabriella lost track of time and space as she sought out the bones.

  She passed into a chamber, noting large swatches of black paint haphazardly splashed across the walls. Gabriella placed her palms onto the cold stone, and startled as the energy jolted through her. Like watching a movie, picture frames flashed in her mind’s eye. Blood. Sacrifice. The face of a priestess slitting the throat of a human. Her eyes blinked open, her heart pounding in her chest. The first witch.

  But as she went to step further into the tunnel, her hopes sank at the sight of the dead end. A small opening in the stone wall caught her attention, and the energy zipped through her once again. Murmurs echoed her name, and she found herself moving toward the hole. Why though? Dammit, I don’t want to go in there.

  As she hoisted herself inside, she sucked a breath and prayed nothing creepy crawly touched her. A dead spider for an ingredient was fine every now and then but she’d lose her shit if one decided to make a live appearance. The walls tightened around her body as she shimmied through the roughened limestone, her pant leg tearing as it caught a jagged edge. She breathed in relief as her head breached the wall into an open space. Her palms reached for the floor and she slid downward and tumbled onto the ground.

  Gabriella shoved to her feet and shone the flashlight into the darkened alcove. Negative vibrations rolled over her, a dark ancient energy bouncing in the air. There was no escape from the triangular room, its peaked ceiling forming a pyramid. Unlike the Louvre, not one speck of light entered, its walls unmarred by intruders. As she ran her fingers over the smooth stone, she noted a rupture in its surface. Upon closer inspection, a thin marble inset intersected the seam of two walls.

  Drawn to its vibrations, Gabriella reached for the stone, but as her fingers brushed over its etching, a familiar energy seized her. Quintus.

  “You’re in trouble, little wolf.” His deep voice echoed in the chamber.

  “I…you…I…” Although his scent soothed her wolf, the fire in his eyes ignited panic in her chest.

  “Cat got your tongue? You seemed quite brave, leaving my house back there. Did you really think you could escape me?”

  “I saw you with her. You touched her.” Courage blossomed in her chest, white-hot anger flaring as she recalled seeing his hands on Mao’s bare body.

  “What you saw wasn’t of my doing. She used black magick. There’s nothing between us. But you, Gabriella? You’re mine. We are bonded,” he told her.

  “Not yet. I’ll walk away.” Her wolf cringed, whining as she issued her threat.

  “I’ve indulged you far too long, bella. We’re doing things my way now. We’ll discuss what you did later and the repercussions for leaving.” Quintus took two broad steps, closing in on
her.

  “You have another mate,” she accused.

  “There will never be anyone else but you,” he promised.

  “But I…” Her hands trembled as her traitorous wolf threatened to submit, but she stood firm.

  “Not another word. This isn’t the place. Do you understand?”

  “Fine,” she spat through gritted teeth. She’d run again the first chance she got. There was no way she’d stay with a man who cheated on her, who belonged to another woman.

  Quintus reached over her shoulder, placing his palm onto the wall. Her body prickled in awareness of his touch, the heat of his body emanating onto hers. She sighed as his lips brushed her ear.

  “This is far from over,” he warned.

  She blinked, a rush of air to her lungs as a rustle sounded behind Quintus. Out of the shadows, Hunter pressed up onto his hands and knees, his glowing eyes set on hers. With Quintus surrounding her, she hadn’t noticed him in the darkness.

  “You never run from your Alpha.” Hunter shoved to his feet, brushed off his hands on his pants, and looked to Quintus. “Fuck me, that was a hell of a ride.”

  “Hell is exactly where we’re at,” Quintus said as he fingered the triangular design. “This is Lucifer’s mark. Whoever did this was powerful. If they were alive, they most certainly used black magick, but more than that…Goddess, can you feel it?”

  “The limestone generates its own energy, but something is in here,” she said.

  “Something evil.”

  “I feel it but it’s not overwhelming me.”

  “It’s because whoever created it is tied to you. You’re the legacy,” Quintus surmised. “These markings. Sanskrit. You see? Asrik. It means blood.” He removed his hands, and blew out a breath. “Whoever did this made a sacrifice. I can feel it in these walls.”

  “A shit ton of bodies were dumped down here. Maybe it’s just some leftover bad juju,” Hunter suggested.