“Someone is approaching,” he whispered directly in her ear.
Her fingers tightened on his arm as a sharp fear pierced her heart. This was why she was here, of course, but that didn’t ease the chill that clutched at her stomach.
These women were not the local garden club. They weren’t going to invite her in for crumpets and tea.
They were powerful witches who could chain a vampire with their spell and control an ancient spirit that kept the world safe from demons.
She would be a fool to underestimate them.
Ignoring the weakness in her knees, Abby forced herself upright. If nothing else, she would face whatever was coming on her feet. She didn’t hear Dante move, but she knew he was standing directly behind her.
Within moments, a thin, narrow-faced woman appeared from the shadows. Halting before Abby, she astonishingly bent in a deep bow.
“My lady, you have arrived at last,” she stated the obvious in somber tones.
Abby glanced at Dante over her shoulder. “My lady?”
“Selena never got over being a noblewoman. Obviously you inherited her title.”
“I wish that was all I inherited,” she muttered.
The witch cleared her throat, blatantly ignoring the vampire who stood only a handful of steps away.
“If you will you come with me, my lady? The mistress is waiting for you.”
My lady? Mistress?
The woman must have spent her summers working at the local Renaissance Fair.
Abby squared her shoulders. “Only if Dante is invited as well.”
The thin face briefly hardened with distaste. “Of course. The protector must accompany the Chalice. This way.”
Turning, the woman headed back toward the dark house. So this was it. Abby pressed a hand to her quivering stomach.
Without a sound, Dante was standing directly before her. “You’re ready?” he demanded.
For a moment she allowed her gaze to rest upon his impossibly beautiful features. Surely nothing horrible could happen as long as he was near?
“As ready as I can be,” she retorted with a grimace.
“Don’t let down your guard,” he warned. “And stay close to me.”
“I think I’m going to throw up.”
He took a deliberate step backward. “Then that staying-close thing was more of a metaphor.”
Grudgingly her lips twitched at his teasing. She knew he was attempting to ease the terrible tension that clutched at her.
“Love is supposed to be for better or worse.”
He lifted his brows. “Love only goes so far.”
“Thanks.”
His hands framed her face with gentle care. “You can do this, lover.”
Sucking in a deep breath, Abby gave a slow nod of her head. “Yes.”
The silver eyes flared. “Then let’s go make you human again.”
Viper carefully adjusted his lace cuffs before returning his attention to the wizard huddled in the corner. The smell of blood was thick in the air. The wizard might be ancient, but he bled like any human when his head connected with the stone wall.
Unfortunately, despite the delicious scent, he felt no urge to drain the pathetic creature. The wizard’s worship of the dark lord made his blood as tainted as his black soul.
Viper gave a flick of his hand as the wizard attempted a feeble ensnaring spell. The man had already been weak from his encounter with Dante. And oddly his few attempts to call upon his darker powers had been unsuccessful. Viper could only presume the Prince was not pleased with his disciple.
He had been no match for an ancient vampire.
“I think what we have here is a failure to communicate,” Viper mocked as he regarded the pasty features.
“Go to hell,” the wizard croaked.
“Eventually, no doubt.” Viper heaved a sigh. “I did hope to do this without undue violence. This is, after all, my favorite jacket, and getting brain tissue out of velvet is a bitch. Still, the pleasure of killing will be worth the effort.”
The once-proud man cringed in fear. “You’re a vampire. Why do you care what happens to the witches?”
“Oh, I have no love for the hags. They can rot in hell for all I care. My only interest is for the welfare of my clansman. You seriously miscalculated when you attacked Dante.”
“He is a pawn of the she-devils.”
“Wrong answer.” Faster than the mortal eye could follow, Viper slashed a deep cut in the man’s cheek.
The wizard cried out, his eyes wide with terror. “If you kill me, then you will die.”
“You believe your god will avenge the death of a pathetic sycophant like you?” Viper curled his lips into a sneer. “He’s more likely to send me a fruit basket.”
The man held up a hand of surrender. “You must listen. It’s the witches.”
“What about them?”
“They intend to murder you.”
Viper narrowed his gaze. He had no trust for the human. Such a man would sell his soul if he still owned it to save his hide. But Viper could smell the sour desperation that oozed from his sweat. The wizard truly believed the witches were a danger.
“The witches intend to murder me? Why?”
“They want us dead. All of us.”
Slowly crouching down, Viper reached out to grasp the man by his throat. At the first hint of a lie, he would put an end to the miserable worm.
“Tell me.”
Dante smoldered with violence as he grudgingly followed the witch leading them through the shadowed house. They had barely crossed the threshold when the familiar scent of brewing spells, drying herbs, and darker, less palatable odors clenched at his stomach.
It was a stench he knew all too well.
The witches were preparing a sacrifice.
He intended to ensure that the sacrifice didn’t include Abby or himself.
No matter who or what he had to kill.
Staying close behind Abby, his senses swept the shadows. If you knew you were walking into a trap, was it still a trap?
Something to consider.
The rooms were large and empty with vaulted ceilings that gave the impression of space. The air, however, was close and thick with a cloaking heat that pressed uncomfortably on Dante. In his mind, it reeked of dusty cellars and prison walls.
Reaching what once must have been the formal drawing room, the witch paused at the doorway.
“Mistress, I have brought the Chalice,” she said in reverent tones.
There was a rustle in the darkness and a low chant before the softness of candlelight chased away the gloom.
With stiff movements, a small, almost frail woman lifted herself from a chair. At a glance she might have been a sweet old grandmother with her fluff of gray hair and lined face. It was only when one noticed the hard brown eyes that the cold, relentless power became obvious.
Managing a tight-lipped smile, the old witch halted before Abby. “My lady. And the guardian.” The hard gaze flicked over Dante before the woman waved a hand toward the cavernous room. “Come in and be welcome.”
Dante felt Abby’s hesitation before she was cautiously moving to take a seat on a leather chair beside the empty fireplace. Dante stood behind her, his body tense and ready to strike.
Just for a moment the unrelenting gaze of Edra weighed his protective stance, as if judging whether or not he would prove to be a hindrance to her plans.
Whatever she decided was not visible on the ancient face. But since he was still standing, he presumed she had concluded he was no threat.
For the moment.
In the blink of an eye, her attention returned to Abby’s pale face.
“We have not yet been introduced, although I feel as if we are intimately acquainted. I am Edra.” Her gaze narrowed. “And you are?”
“Abby Barlow.”
“Ah, the servant,” she murmured. “I should have realized you would be the only one near enough to have taken the Phoenix.”
“I didn’t mean to,” Abby assured the woman dryly. “If I had realized what was going to happen, I would have run screaming in the opposite direction.”
“Quite understandable.” Something that was no doubt supposed to be sympathy touched the lined face. “You look exhausted, my dear. May I get you some wine?”
Abby nervously cleared her throat. “No, thank you.”
“Very well.” There was a short, thick silence. “You are well? You have had no difficulty in carrying the Phoenix?”
“Beyond being chased by every demon and dark wizard in Chicago?”
A gnarled hand waved in an imperious motion. “I mean physically. There is no pain? No sickness?”
“My eyes have turned blue, and I have a tendency to light people on fire, but besides that I feel all right.”
“That is a relief. Still . . .” The woman moved close to bend over the chair, ignoring Dante’s low growl as she reached out to touch Abby’s cheek. “Perhaps you will not mind if I take a moment to ensure the Phoenix is unharmed by . . . recent events?”
Abby shuddered beneath the woman’s touch but didn’t pull away. “If you must.”
Edra closed her eyes as she murmured beneath her breath. Dante couldn’t feel the magic, but he knew it was being woven. His hands clenched at his side. Bloody hell, he hated this.
“It is well, thank the blessed Goddess,” the woman breathed. Then, without warning, she gave a sharp gasp and stumbled backward, her hand pressed to her heart. “Oh . . .”
Abby clutched the arms of the chair. “What?”
With an effort, the witch wrestled control of her composure. Her hand, however, remained an angry red.
The Phoenix had struck out at her.
What the hell did that mean?
“You possess a great deal of power. More than Selena.” She narrowed her gaze before she gave a faint nod. “You shall do well.”
Never stupid, Abby regarded the witch with tense suspicion. “Do well?”
“As the Chalice, of course.”
The words were smooth, but Dante didn’t believe them for a moment. His hand dropped to Abby’s shoulder as he regarded the witch with a cold threat.
“We are here for you to remove the spirit.”
The candles abruptly flared. A not-so-subtle warning of her sheathed power.
“Impossible,” Edra snapped. “The Phoenix has already taken possession of her body.”
“Then bloody well find another body,” he growled.
Her gnarled hand lifted. “Careful, beast.”
Violence hung in the air, and with a nervous motion, Abby was out of the chair.
“Look, I understand your concern, but there’s no way I can be your . . . Chalice,” she muttered in an obvious attempt to halt bloodshed. “I didn’t ask for this, I was never trained, and quite frankly I’m sick of scary things trying to kill me.”
Edra sent her a fleeting gaze, her attention remaining on Dante. “You’re with us now. We will see to your training as well as keep you safe.”
“As you did Selena?” Dante mocked.
“Selena brought on her own demise.”
“How?”
“It is not your place to question what occurs among the coven,” Edra snapped.
“But it’s mine,” Abby intruded again. “And I want to know what happened to Selena.”
“We shall discuss Selena later.”
Dante hid a smile at the imperious command in the witch’s voice. It was custom-designed to set Abby’s teeth on edge.
He was not disappointed as his mate narrowed her gaze and mentally dug in her heels.
“No. I want to know how she died.”
Edra stiffened. The old witch was accustomed to commanding her underlings with an iron fist. Even Selena had grudgingly conceded to her authority.
Surprisingly, however, something that might have been wariness flickered over the lined face as the witch studied the younger woman.
“She attempted a spell well beyond her capabilities,” she abruptly confessed.
“What sort of spell?” Abby pressed. “What did it do?”
“It . . . protected her from demons.”
She was lying.
The knowledge hung thick in the air.
“I thought the Phoenix could protect itself,” Abby challenged.
“Against most enemies.”
“Did she fear being attacked?”
“It is always a fear.” The lined face hardened with hatred. “The darkness hovers and awaits the opportunity to regain what it has lost. There are evil forces in the world that will halt at nothing to destroy us.”
“Yeah, I’ve been introduced to a few of them,” Abby muttered. “Which is why I want this . . . this thing out of me and into someone who knows what they’re doing.”
There was a tense pause before the witch reached out to pat Abby’s arm in an awkward motion.
“We will consider what is best to be done, but first you will desire a short rest. I can sense your weariness.”
The woman turned and headed for the door before Abby could argue. Dante moved faster.
In the blink of an eye, he was standing in the doorway, his fangs exposed.
“Abby will need her herbs.”
Edra gave a blink of shock at his sudden appearance before an expression of regal disdain settled on her thin face.
“Of course.”
“And I will need blood.”
The disdain deepened. “It will be attended to.”
Dante waited a long beat before stepping aside and allowing the witch to leave the room.
He hoped that she sensed just how fiercely he desired to kill her on the spot.
Chapter 23
Abby felt like a bottle of champagne that had been shaken until it threatened to burst.
She didn’t know her nerves could be wound so tightly. Or that she could feel so cold in a room that was smothering.
Worse, she didn’t know if it was being in the lair of the witches that was making her so unnerved or the sight of her lover standing in the doorway.
In the shadows, he might have been carved from the purest marble. There was no expression on the alabaster features. No flicker of life in the flat silver eyes. Not a muscle twitched in the tall, elegant body.
He might have been a beautiful mannequin if not for the fangs that glittered in the candlelight.
She at last cleared her throat. “Dante?”
There was not a flicker of an eyelash. “Yes?”
“You’re looking a bit fangy. Are you all right?”
There was a long moment before a ripple raced through him and he slowly turned to meet her gaze.
“I don’t like being here.”
“Neither do I,” she muttered, wrapping her arms about her waist. “It’s smothering in here but I’m freezing. It doesn’t make any sense.”
His brows lowered. “Magic?”
Abby considered. She was hardly an expert. Hell, she wasn’t even an amateur. More like a bumbling buffoon.
Still, she could feel something in the air. A sense of foreboding that tingled over her skin and clutched at her stomach.
“More like magic waiting to happen,” she attempted to explain the odd sensation. “It’s like an approaching thunderstorm. You can feel the electricity in the air before it ever hits.”
“So what are they brewing?”
She shivered as she moved to stand directly before Dante. She had hoped that meeting the witches would ease her vague fears. Instead the urge to flee was more overwhelming than ever.
There was something . . . foul in the air.
A hint of rotting disease just below the surface.
“I don’t know.” She laid her hand on his arm. “Maybe we should just go, Dante.”
“No.” He covered her hand with his own. His expression was grim. “Not until you’re safe.”
“She didn’t sound like she’s overly eager to rid me of the Phoenix.”
“If you conv
ince her that you won’t be jerked around like a puppet on a string, she will be forced to find a new Chalice. The coven considers the Phoenix as their own, and they won’t lose control. Even if it means endangering the spirit.”
“You mean just be myself?”
The barest hint of a smile touched his lips. “Exactly.”
“And what of you?”
His expression became shuttered. “I can take care of myself.”
Abby swallowed a sigh. It was his me-Neanderthaland-I’ll-be-stupid-if-I-want expression.
Vampires.
“Not if they leash you to a new Chalice. You will be at their mercy.”
His shoulder lifted. “I am already at their mercy. It won’t change much.”
Her brows snapped together. “I want you freed.”
“One thing at a time, lover.” His hand lifted to cup her cheek. “First we must make sure Edra understands you are serious about ridding yourself of the Phoenix. I had hoped she would have already chosen another Chalice and would be eager to assist us. As it is . . .”
“What?”
His fangs snapped together. “She may look old and fragile, but she wields magic like a gladiator wields a sword, and she doesn’t care who gets hurt when she takes a swing. We must be careful to convince her to release you without making her fear you might be an enemy.”
“So you want me to stand up to the witch but not stand up to the point that she wants my head in the stewpot.”
“Something like that.”
She wrinkled her nose. “You don’t ask much.”
His expression was somber. “This is important, lover.”
“I know.” With a sigh she leaned against his solid body and snuggled close as his arms wrapped about her.
In the distance she could feel the prickling tension of a brewing spell and could smell the herbs and nastier ingredients that lay thick in the air. The thick mess crawled over her skin.
But being held tightly in Dante’s arms kept the hovering darkness at bay.
How was that for an oxymoron?
Abby didn’t know how much time had passed, but eventually Dante was gently tugging her to the center of the room and turning to regard the woman who entered the doorway carrying a silver tray.
Abby blinked in shock as the stranger settled the tray on a low table and straightened with a flip of her blond hair.
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