A Vampire Bundle

by Alexandra Ivy

  “That won’t be necessary.” Dante’s voice sliced through the air with all the warmth of a snowball in Antarctica.

  Turning about, the imp surveyed Dante with open appreciation. Obviously he was an imp with a varying range of taste.

  “Well, hellooooooo. Preindustrial meat—just how I like it.”

  “Can we speak?”

  The imp stepped closer with a lick of his lips. “I have better things we could be doing.”

  Dante didn’t so much as blink. “This is important.”

  “Nummy.” Running a hand down Dante’s arm, the imp leaned forward to give him a deep sniff. Suddenly the creature stiffened, and, pulling back, he offered them both an offended glare. “You’ve mated. Go away.”

  Abby was torn between disbelief and amusement. This was no mischievous sprite dancing about a garden or playing naughty tricks on the unwary. Still, there was something bizarrely fascinating about Troy, Prince of Imps.

  There was no amusement in Dante. He was annoyed, pure and simple.

  “This will only take a few moments.” Dante pulled his watch off his wrist and held it out so the gold could glitter in the streetlight.

  The imp’s nose actually seemed to twitch as he leaned forward to study the expensive watch.

  At last he straightened and waved a large hand toward the nearby alley.

  “Go around back. There’s a door that leads to the private rooms.”

  He disappeared as easily as he had appeared, but Abby had no opportunity to appreciate the startling trick as Dante gathered her hand and pulled her through the shadows to the back of the building.

  “So what’s with imps?” she demanded.

  He gave a snort of distaste. “They’re flighty, unreliable creatures who delight in pleasures of the flesh and, of course, creating chaos.”

  “And this one runs a coffeehouse?”

  He shrugged. “Imps can pass as human when they want and are astonishingly very good at business.”

  “And we’re here because . . . ?”

  “Any demons in the neighborhood will gather here to share information.”

  Abby shuddered. Good Lord, the demons had infiltrated the high-rent suburbs? What next? The White House?

  Oh no. Don’t even think about it, Abby, she sternly told herself.

  “Dante, do you think it’s entirely wise to spend any more time with demons while they consider me some sort of Holy Grail?”

  “There are no other demons inside,” he assured her. “I merely want to speak with the imp. He will have heard any rumors floating about.”

  “You’re saying the demons come here to drink coffee and gossip?”

  “That’s one way to put it. If there are witches in the area, they will be keeping an eye on them.” He halted to push open the door. He paused a moment to carefully scan the room before pulling her over the threshold and closing the door.

  With a flick of his hand, the muted lights glowed to life and Abby gave a strangled gasp.

  “Wow,” she breathed, her gaze skimming over the vast room. She had never seen so much red velvet and lacquer gathered in one place.

  Clearly demons had a taste for the lush and opulent.

  Touching her arm, Dante flashed a warning frown. “Don’t touch anything.”

  “Why?”

  “Imps tend to have a few of their objects enchanted. One touch and you will find yourself compelled to return to this coffee shop over and over.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “No wonder they’re such good businessmen.”

  “It doesn’t hurt.”

  Less than a beat passed before Troy sashayed into the room, imperiously holding his hand out. Dante obligingly dropped his watch into the open palm, and the imp held it up to inspect it with an expert eye.

  “Let me see. Gold . . . real. Diamonds . . . real. A small scratch on the crystal.” He pursed his lips and dropped the watch into the pocket of his shirt. “I can give you half an hour. Will you have a seat? Some coffee?”

  Dante gave Abby’s arm a warning squeeze before he was offering a smooth shake of his head.

  “Nothing, thank you. This won’t take long.”

  Troy tossed back his fiery mane of hair. “What can I do for you?”

  “We’re looking for witches.”

  The emerald gaze shifted to Abby. “Ah. You desire a potion or perhaps a hex? I have a friend who I promise will not disappoint.”

  Dante answered, “These witches will be living in a coven, and they won’t dabble in potions. They have power. A great deal of power.”

  The too-pretty features abruptly pinched into an expression of distaste. “Oh . . . those witches.”

  Dante took a step forward. “You know of them?”

  “They arrived a few days ago. The worth of real estate has been plummeting ever since.”

  Abby blinked in confusion. “Real estate?”

  “The demons are uneasy. These witches are not like others. They do not worship the beauty and glory of Mother Earth. They call their powers from the blood sacrifice. Already there have been several Sespi sprites who have simply disappeared.”

  Blood sacrifice? Abby bit her lower lip. That didn’t sound good.

  In fact, she was becoming more and more convinced that seeking out these witches was a very bad idea.

  If Dante was shocked, he didn’t show it. His alabaster face might have been carved from marble.

  “What do you know of them?” he demanded.

  “Their house is the large Victorian monstrosity at the end of Iris Avenue.”

  “How many?”

  “Ten.”

  “Is the house guarded?”

  The imp grimaced. “Well guarded. They have a tame Shalott that protects the grounds.”

  “Yeah, we’ve met,” Abby muttered.

  Dante took a moment to consider. “Any binding spells?”

  “Not that anyone has detected.”

  “They must be conserving their strength,” he murmured.

  Troy moved forward, a smile on his lips and a wicked glint in his eyes as he lightly touched Dante’s hair. “I do hope they are on your dinner plans, beautiful. They are beginning to affect business.”

  Dante smiled coldly. “For now I just want to speak with them.”

  “Pity.” The imp heaved a dramatic sigh and moved toward Abby. He stroked her hair as he did Dante’s. Then slowly he bent forward to sniff at her neck. Abby forced herself to remain still. The Prince of Imps seemed harmless, but he was large enough to crush her with one hand. “What is that smell? There is something within you . . .”

  “That’s all we needed.” With a smooth motion, Dante was stepping between Abby and the imp, his entire body humming with danger. “Thank you for your time.”

  The emerald eyes narrowed, but with a sardonic smile the imp was performing a deep bow.

  “The pleasure was all mine.” He glanced over Dante’s shoulder to stab Abby with a knowing smile. “Still, I think it best you not return. My establishment possesses a few minor spells to dampen the more feral tendencies of my customers, but I don’t think anything could halt bloodshed if they caught scent of you, my precious.”

  “We won’t be back,” Dante promised, hustling Abby from the room and into the back alley. Once the door was shut, he peered into the shadows. “Well, we have the information we wanted. Now what the hell do we do with it?”

  The cellar was straight off the set of a horror film.

  The floor was packed dirt and littered with the droppings of mice and rats. The worn stone walls were damp with a slick layer of mold. Even the air was heavy and filled with a dark sense of menace.

  It combined to create an atmosphere that would send most people fleeing in terror. But Edra was made of sterner stuff.

  She had no love for the shadows, but she was willing to use them for her own purpose. And after centuries of battling the darkness, she had at last accepted that only by directly confronting evil could she put an end to it once and for
all.

  Setting her candle on the large altar she had commanded built after being forced to flee the secret coven outside the city, she reached into the pocket of her robe and pulled out a small amulet.

  The darkness seemed to deepen, and the candle flickered. A bone-chilling cold crept through the air.

  Edra smiled. So much power.

  Enough power to alter the world.

  The soft scrape of the door was the only warning that someone approached. With controlled haste, Edra slipped the amulet in her pocket and muttered a few words beneath her breath.

  The few remaining witches could barely conjure a binding spell let alone be sensitive enough to the dark aura that clung to the amulet. Still, she wasn’t about to take any risks. Not now.

  Not when she was so close to success she could taste it.

  With a groan, she forced her stiff joints to kneel before the altar and bent her head in prayer. It was not until she could sense the woman halt at her side that she at last lifted her head.

  The intruder was thin with lank brown hair. She no doubt had a name, but Edra had never bothered to learn it. Most of those she had once loved were now dead and gone. The lesser witches in the coven were merely necessary inconveniences.

  “The demon lives?”

  “It lives, but her wounds are grievous,” the woman reported with a frown. “Sally was forced to heal her.”

  “She shouldn’t have bothered. Soon enough we will have no need of the creature.” Edra didn’t miss the annoyance that flashed through the dark eyes, and she rose to her feet. Deliberately she allowed her power to fill the room. There were times when her underlings needed to be reminded that beneath her aging frailty was a will that would destroy without mercy. “You have something to say?”

  The witch momentarily faltered before she was squaring her shoulders.

  “You have promised for the past year we would be rid of the demons, but we are no closer to achieving our goals, and now too many of us are dead.”

  “It was not my fault that Selena became greedy and used the spell books before I could assist her or that the wizard attacked without warning,” she snapped in annoyance.

  “We should have been better prepared.”

  Edra’s hand dipped into her pocket to finger the amulet. “Are you suggesting that I failed?”

  “I suggest that we became complacent.”

  “And you wish to challenge my authority?”

  Perhaps sensing her imminent death, the witch took a hasty step back.

  “No. I simply want to pull back and gather our strength. To continue with the plan while we are so weak is madness.”

  “Impossible. All the signs are in alignment. We must strike while we can.”

  “But we don’t even know where the Phoenix is. The Shalott failed us.”

  A flare of anger raced through the ancient witch before she fiercely thrust it aside. She could not be distracted. Not now.

  A cold smile touched her lips. “The Chalice is close. Even now she seeks us out.”

  The younger witch blinked in surprise. “You feel her?”

  “Yes.” A shiver of anticipation raced through her body. “Prepare the sacrifice. Our time is coming.”

  “But—”

  “Do not make me repeat myself,” Edra warned in a lethal voice. “Prepare the sacrifice.”

  Not entirely stupid, the younger woman was hastily backing toward the stairs. “Yes, mistress.”

  Dismissing her companion with a wave of her hand, Edra concentrated upon the vague awareness that was becoming steadier with every passing moment.

  At last.

  Despite all the grim setbacks. Despite the deaths. Despite the failure of her underlings. Her dream was about to become a reality.

  “Come to me,” she whispered softly.

  Chapter 22

  “This is it.”

  Squatting beside Dante in the overgrown hedges, Abby studied the house.

  Set well away from the street and nearly hidden behind the hedges, it was an aging Victorian structure. Although aging seemed too kind a description. Crumbling to dust was more accurate.

  Even in the shadows it was easy to spot the peeling paint and sagging porch. If Norman Bates needed a vacation home, she had just found if for him. Abby gave a shake of her head. Holy freaking cow. The only surprise would be if there wasn’t a dead mother hidden in the bedroom and a homicidal maniac prowling the grounds.

  “Yow,” she breathed. “That’s . . . spooky.”

  Dante was in full predator mode. With uncanny ease, he melted into the shadows and held himself motionless. There was none of her fidgeting, no muttered complaints of the hedge poking into his back. Hell, there wasn’t even any tedious breathing to stir the air.

  If she wasn’t vibrantly aware of the tension coiled within him, she might have thought he had been turned to stone.

  Shifting slightly, she closely studied the alabaster features that were almost unrecognizable. This was not the tender lover or roguish pirate. This was the warrior vampire who still sent a tingle of unease down her spine.

  Feeling her gaze, he turned to stab her with his silver gaze.

  “Do you sense anything?”

  “Yes.” She absently rubbed her arms. The prickles racing over her skin had started the moment she had stepped onto the grounds of the house. “I just don’t know what it is.”

  “Tell me.” His voice was a whisper of velvet.

  “It’s like I can almost hear whispers in the back of my mind. I can’t make out the words, but I know they’re there.”

  “The witches?”

  “That would be my guess.” Her breath caught as the white fangs ran out and his hands curled to claws. The demon was in full force. “What was that?”

  “What?”

  “Did you just growl?”

  “I don’t like this.” His gaze returned to the house, his tone flat. “It’s too quiet.”

  “Hardly surprising they might want to keep a low profile after being attacked by the wizard. They’re not likely to be having a party.”

  “And yet they have no spells to guard the house.”

  “What of the Shalott?”

  He sniffed the air. “It must be within. Or dead.”

  Abby shivered. Or dead . . .

  Those weren’t exactly words to bolster a girl’s confidence.

  She licked her dry lips.

  “Then I suppose there’s nothing to stop us, right?”

  He slowly turned back to her, his expression grim. “There is one thing.”

  Her head dropped into her hands as she heaved out a rasping sigh. “I knew it. I just knew it. What is this thing?”

  “This is a private home.”

  “And?”

  “And I can’t enter without an invitation.”

  She jerked her head up. “You’re kidding me?”

  “No.”

  “You don’t live in a crypt and you can’t turn into a bat, but you have to have an invitation to enter a house?” Abby hissed.

  A reluctant amusement softened the flat eyes. “You wanted me to be vampirish.”

  “Not when it’s inconvenient.”

  “Sorry.”

  She wrinkled her nose, realizing just how ridiculous she was being. “No, this is for the best,” she forced herself to say. “Until we know what’s going to happen, I would rather you stay away from the witches.”

  He didn’t so much as flick an eyelash, but Abby sensed his flare of anger. Great, just great. She had managed to rub against his vampire pride. A certain means to ensure he would bull his way headfirst into the nearest danger.

  Sometimes her stupidity amazed even herself.

  “You want me to hide in the bushes?”

  “Dante, it only makes sense to split up,” she attempted to undue her unwitting damage. “I need you to be able to rescue me if I need help.”

  “I’m not letting you go in there alone.”

  She reached out to touch his a
rm. It was as cold and unyielding as granite.

  “We don’t have much choice.”

  His fangs flashed in the moonlight. Not the most reassuring of sights.

  “The witches know you’re here. They’ll eventually come out to find you.”

  That wasn’t reassuring either.

  Especially if Dante was forced to retreat before the witches decided to make an appearance. She would rather go in now and know she had backup.

  “We don’t have that long. Dawn will be coming soon.”

  “Then we’ll come back tomorrow night.”

  “Dante. I think—”

  With a blurring speed, Dante had pinned her to his chest, the air shimmering and snapping about him.

  “Dammit, Abby, I can’t let you go in there,” he rasped.

  If she had a lick of sense, she would have been terrified. Mate or not, this man could crush her without effort. Or worse, rip out her throat.

  But it was annoyance that stiffened her spine and brought a frown to her brow.

  “I promise I won’t take any risks. I will meet with the witches and—”

  “No.”

  “Listen, Mr. Macho, I make my own decisions.”

  The arrogant nose flared. “Not on this.”

  Her teeth snapped together. “This argument is starting to get old, Dante. I’m not a child. To be honest, I don’t think I was ever a child. I won’t be dictated to, not by you or anyone else.”

  He studied her flushed features with a steady gaze. “If you die, I die,” he said simply.

  The wind was sucked efficiently from her sails.

  She searched his hard features. “You will die because I’m your mate?”

  “Because you’re the reason I exist.”

  “Oh.” Abby set back on her heels, stunned by the stark beauty of his words.

  It was hard to remain all prickly and independent when he was making her heart melt.

  Damn him.

  “Dante—”

  His finger touched her lips to halt her stumbling words, his head turning toward the unkempt yard that surrounded the house.