“Like you.”
He smiled wryly. “Yes.”
There was a moment of silence before Abby shifted to stand directly before him.
“We must rescue her.”
“A demon?” he demanded in surprise.
“She could have killed both of us. Or at the very least taken me away while you were unconscious. I think we owe her.”
He allowed his hand to drift over her tumbled curls. “If it is possible, we will release her. First we must find her.”
Viper allowed the man to drop to the ground and licked his fangs clean. He had no real taste for wizard-wannabes, but the guard had to be eliminated, and he hated to waste perfectly good blood.
Not that the man had been much of a guard. A smile twisted Viper’s lips. Despite the small medallion that had proclaimed the man a disciple of the Prince, he had been no match for Viper’s strength. The battle had done nothing more than whet his appetite.
With a flick of his hand, he used his powers to sink the inert body into the ground. The fresh blood that coursed through his body elevated his strength and stirred the dark predator within. He was on the hunt, and he would kill anything in his path.
Sliding through the graveyard, he entered the large crypt and easily found the entrance to the tunnels beneath. He paused to sniff the air.
He could smell humans. And a handful of lesser demons who were willing to serve mortals in exchange for protection. Nothing that could prove a danger to him.
Nothing beyond the wizard.
Melting among the shadows, he slowly traveled down the steps. Although he was always confident, Viper wasn’t stupid. A vampire did not live as many centuries as he had by blundering into danger.
If the wizard was tapping into the power of the dark lord, he would be a formidable enemy. It would take as much cunning as skill to best him.
A perfect means to spend the evening, he acknowledged with a cold smile.
He passed two more guards on his way to the inner sanctuary. On both occasions he killed with silent efficiency and moved forward without missing a step. The few demons he sensed were wise enough to scurry away before he could cross their paths.
With deadly speed he was at the entrance to the lowest chamber. He halted to carefully study the room before him.
It was a large room, but barren with a large brazier set in the center of the stone floor. Before the burning fire, a tall man knelt in obvious worship. The wizard. And in his hand he held a leather whip that he lashed against his own back in a steady rhythm.
Viper curled his lip in disdain.
He had encountered any number of humans who had willingly traded their souls to the dark lord. For power, for immortality, for their love of evil. They became willing servants who would sacrifice anything and anyone to please their vicious master.
Even themselves.
Pathetic creatures.
But dangerous, he reminded himself.
Very dangerous.
Despite the distance, he easily sensed the ancient force that radiated throughout the room. The sorcerer was obviously a favorite of the Prince and allowed to draw deeply upon his power.
It was little wonder he had proven to be such a nuisance to Dante.
Allowing his fangs to run out, Viper flexed his fingers and flowed into the shadows of the chamber.
“Fee Fie Foe Fum, I smell the blood of a . . . not Englishman.” He paused as he sniffed the air and gave a shudder. “Ah, a Saxon. A pity. The last Saxon I devoured made me ill for days. Filthy beast.”
Scrambling to his feet, the wizard clutched the heavy medallion about his neck and scanned the room for the unexpected intruder.
A futile effort. Viper wouldn’t be seen until he wanted to be seen.
“Cooper. Johnson.” The man’s voice held an unmistakable rasp as he called for his guards. Well, at least he was smart enough to be afraid. “Breckett.”
“Dead, dead, and dead, I fear,” Viper purred in cold tones.
The man gave a low growl as he backed close to the flames. “Show yourself, vampire.”
“Later, perhaps. If you are very good.”
“Coward.”
Viper laughed as he drifted through the shadows. “I am intrigued. Why would an all-powerful wizard be hiding in these dark caves beating himself senseless? Are you the sort to delight in self-flagellation?” He paused as he easily read the dark, tangled thoughts that the wizard couldn’t hide. “No, you prefer inflicting pain on others. It must be atonement for the dark lord.”
“I have no business with you. Leave now and I will not try to halt you.”
“But I have business with you.”
“Do you think to challenge me?”
“No, I think to kill you.”
“Fool.” The wizard snarled. “You shall burn upon the Prince’s altar.”
“Actually, you shall be the one to burn. But not until we’ve had a little chat. Have a seat.” Lifting his hand, Viper moved forward, forcing the wizard to his knees with the power of his glamour. He would not be capable of holding the man for any length of time. But he intended to have his questions answered before he took pleasure in the kill. “Now, tell me what you know of the witches.”
Chapter 21
A shiver raced through Abby as she hovered close to Dante.
She seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.
Both the shivering and the hovering.
And standing in the dark wondering what the hell had happened to her life.
A week ago she would have already been in her cramped apartment tucked into her cramped bed.
She wouldn’t have known about all the bad things that went bump in the night, or feared that she was about to become a roasted sacrifice for some nasty deity.
Her gaze slid upward to linger upon the tense, perfect profile of the vampire next to her.
Her heart gave a sudden jolt. She might have been safely tucked in her bed, but she would have been alone. And miserable.
Whatever happened, no matter how many beasts and demons and witches crossed her path, she would not regret the events that had led to this moment. Having Dante near her was worth any cost.
Even as the knowledge settled deep inside Abby, Dante stirred with a restless motion, and she sensed a surge of frustration ripple through him.
Her hand reached out to touch his arm.
“What do you sense?”
“The demon is near.”
“How near?”
He flashed a wry smile. “Abby, I’m not a GPS. I can only say that she is close.”
“Then the witches must be close.”
“Yes.”
Abby felt faintly nauseous. A sensation that was triggered each time she thought of the women who she had seen in her dream.
Women who would hold her life, as well as that of Dante, in their hands.
“Do we start searching houses?”
Dante angled his head and sniffed the air. She didn’t know what he could smell, but he gave a sharp shake of his head.
“I don’t want to blunder in blindly. I prefer to have some idea of what we’re going to be facing.”
“I could—”
“No.”
Abby stiffened at his sharp tone. It wasn’t that she particularly wanted to creep through the dark alone. Hell, she’d rather shove a fork in her eye. But she didn’t take commands well. Never had, never would.
“Well, I’m not standing here in the dark all night,” she informed him sharply. “I’m tired, I’m hungry, and my mood is taking a turn toward pissy.”
He cocked a brow. “I’d say the turn has already been made.”
“Dante.”
His arm fell across her shoulders. “There is more than one means of discovering the witches.”
“And they would be?”
He led her from the quiet back street toward the bustling thoroughfare just a block away.
“Trust me.”
She rolled her eyes at the familiar words. �
��Can’t you at least tell me where we’re going?”
“You will see.”
He turned the corner, and they walked past elegant restaurants with their discreet awnings and closed shops that didn’t put price tags on their items.
The sort of neighborhood where women like her were followed by store security.
She wrinkled her nose as she found herself being relentlessly towed toward a sidewalk coffee shop that was still bustling with preps and corporate executives.
“I’m starting to rethink this whole mate thing.”
“Really, lover, you should have more faith in me.”
“I do, it’s just . . .”
“Just what?”
Abby came to a sudden halt to meet his gaze squarely.
“I’m afraid,” she abruptly admitted.
His arm pulled her close, his lips feathering over the top of her head.
“I won’t let anything happen to you, Abby. You have my promise.”
“But what of you?”
“I’m fairly fond of me as well. I intend to take great care.”
She pulled back with a frown. “We don’t know what the witches will do.”
“They will discover a new Chalice, and you will be free of the Phoenix.”
“And you will be the guardian for a new woman.”
His expression eased. “Ah . . . you’re jealous.”
“Maybe a little.”
His fingers cupped her chin. “You are my mate. Even if I wanted to be with another woman, I couldn’t.”
“But I will be mortal again.”
“Those are worries for later. For now we must concentrate upon ridding you of the Phoenix. Until we do, you will be in danger.” His lips lingered a moment on her forehead before he was once again pulling her down the street, pausing before the large window of the bustling shop. “This should do.”
She glanced over the customers, who were all thinner, richer, and prettier than her.
“What is this place?”
“A coffee shop.”
“I can see that. Why are we here?”
“Because of that.”
He pointed to a spot directly over the window. For a moment Abby could see nothing but the red bricks that made up the building. Then as the clouds shifted, she could make out the strange hieroglyphics that glowed in the moonlight.
“Graffiti?”
“It’s a symbol that the owner is . . . nonhuman.”
His arm lowered to point toward the window where a tall man weaved between the tables. Abby’s eyes widened. Yowza.
She had never seen anything like him. Large and muscular with the build a professional wrestler would have envied, he was attired in a loose, green, sequined shirt and leopard-print pants that appeared to have been spray painted on him. Even more eye-catching was the long, brilliant red hair that flowed down his back like a river of fire.
He was an exotic butterfly who oozed a sensuality that was nearly palpable in the air.
“Let me guess. E. T.?” she husked.
Dante grimaced. “Imp.”
It wouldn’t have been her first guess. Or hundredth.
“Isn’t he kinda big for an imp?” she demanded, frowning as he passed out of sight and then without warning popped into the air directly before her.
“Not just an imp, I am a prince among imps,” he corrected in rich tones, performing an elaborate bow. “Troy, at your service, and, sweet pea, big is most definitely better.” He ran a hand down his stomach and then cupped himself with a seductive smile. “Of course, I don’t expect you to take my word for it. I’m quite willing to display my goods if you want. I have the most darling room upstairs where you can taste my wares in private.”
“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 . . .”
Supernatural Bundle Page 67