When Darkness Falls

by Alexandra Ivy

  “Yes, it’s all a vast conspiracy.”

  She actually giggled. Giggled. Then, taking another deep drink, she turned her head on the soft leather seat and regarded him with half-closed eyes.

  “Whatever happened to the days when a vampire would skulk through the sewers and live in a damp crypt?”

  He arched a brow. “I think they ended about the same time mortals decided to crawl out of their caves.”

  “Still, you should at least turn into a bat or have a bumpy forehead. Something vampirish.”

  Okay. It was official. Mortal women were without exception the most unpredictable, erratic, insane creatures ever to roam the earth.

  And this woman was the champion of champions at driving a vampire insane. One minute she was terrified, the next she was angry, and then, bam, she was all soft and vulnerable.

  Still, this giggling, almost giddy mood was a distinct change. He might have thought she was drunk as a skunk if it weren’t…

  Oh bloody hell. Dante’s eyes narrowed as he watched her down another large gulp of her drink.

  That was it.

  It had been so long since Selena had become the Phoenix that he had forgotten the effects of the potent herbs. Over the years, she had become accustomed to the concoction, but for a time she had reacted with precisely the same woozy silliness.

  “Abby,” he murmured.

  “Mmmm?”

  “Are you drinking Selena’s herbs?”

  “Yes.” She smiled blithely. “And you know, once you get past the vile taste and occasional lumps, it isn’t entirely repulsive. It makes me feel… tingly.”

  “Tingly?”

  She abruptly grimaced. “Except for my nose. I can’t feel my nose at all. It’s still there, isn’t it?”

  Dante swallowed a laugh as he reached out to lightly tap her nose. She was unexpectedly endearing when she was tanked.

  “Safe and sound in the center of your face,” he assured her.

  “Good. I don’t like it very much, but I wouldn’t want to lose it.”

  “No, a nose is a good thing to have.” He regarded the pale features a moment before returning his gaze to the darkened streets. “And it’s a perfectly fine nose.”

  “It’s too short, and it has freckles.”

  He tightened his fingers on the steering wheel as he turned onto a tree-lined boulevard.

  “Mortals,” he breathed in annoyance. “Why are you so consumed with physical appearance? Not only does it swiftly fade, but it is also meaningless.”

  His words of wisdom were greeted with a disdainful raspberry. “Spoken like one of the truly beautiful people,” she groused. “It’s easy to condemn shallow vanity when you look like a Greek god.”

  “I merely…” He shot her a swift glance. “You think I look like a Greek god?”

  “Actually, you look more like a pirate. A very, very wicked pirate.”

  A pirate? That didn’t seem nearly as good as a Greek god. Of course, she had said that he was a wicked one.

  “Okay, I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

  “You must know you are gorgeous.”

  “Well, there is that whole reflection thing, lover,” he said in dry tones. “I don’t spend a great deal of time preening before mirrors.”

  “Oh… I forgot.” She hiccupped. “Sorry.”

  “Not as exciting as having a bumpy forehead or turning into a bat, but it’s at least vampirish.”

  She gave a slow nod. “That’s true, I suppose. And you do have the fangs.”

  “Yes, I do have the fangs.”

  She heaved a faint sigh. “Still, turning into a bat would be cool.”

  Dante’s smile faded. She still had no clue of the monster he was capable of becoming. In her mind it was all myths and fairy tales.

  “Abby.”

  “What?”

  “I think perhaps you’ve had enough of those herbs for now.”

  There was a short pause before she struggled to straighten in her seat. “You may be right. My head is starting to spin.”

  Dante flicked a switch to roll down her window, allowing a gust of fresh air to enter the car.

  “Better?”

  “Yes.” She stuck her head out the window, breathing deeply. “Do you know, I think that muck might have been spiked.”

  Dante chuckled as he slowed and pulled the car to a halt. “Don’t worry, lover, soon enough you’ll be enjoying your hot fudge sundaes instead of spiked muck.”

  Pulling in her head, Abby regarded him with a lift of her brows. “Why are we stopping? Are we near the coven?”

  “That’s what I intend to find out.”

  She blinked in surprise. “You can sense it?”

  “Actually, I hope to smell it.”

  “Ugh. Do witches stink?”

  “Not the witches, but something near the coven,” he explained with a smile. “When Selena would return from her visits, there was always a peculiar scent that would cling to her.”

  Abby tilted her head to one side. “What sort of scent?”

  Dante gave a shrug. “I’m not sure. I only know that when she would return, I would avoid the house for days. It was very… distinctive.”

  Abby pondered for a long moment. “A butcher shop? Or tannery?”

  He lifted his brows at her naive words. “I would recognize the scent of blood, my sweet.”

  “Oh… right. What about an oil refinery or stockyard?”

  “No, it was more like a rotting field of wheat.”

  She frowned. Dante didn’t blame her. Even for a powerful vampire, a vague smell that he couldn’t even identify was hardly much to go on. MacGyver he was not.

  Then, without warning, she reached out to grasp his arm in a tight grip.

  “Oh my God.”

  Instantly on alert, Dante glanced about to ensure they were not under attack. “What is it?”

  “I know where it is,” she breathed.

  “The coven?”

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  “Years ago, my oldest brother worked at the cereal factory,” she explained. “When he would return, the entire house would reek of rotted wheat for hours.”

  There was rotted wheat in cereal? Hellfire. How dare humans shudder at vampires’ preference for blood? At least he demanded it distinctly unrotted.

  “It’s worth a try,” he concluded. “Which direction?”

  “South.”

  Gunning the engine, Dante turned the car southward. There was no guarantee that the coven would be near the factory, but it was at least a place to start.

  As silence once again descended, Dante shot a covert glance toward the woman at his side. On this occasion, Abby wasn’t guzzling the potent herbs or humming in a pleasant cloud of fog. Instead her brow was furrowed, and she chewed upon her lower lip as if she were in deep thought.

  With an effort, he resisted the urge to demand what was on her mind. If he had learned nothing else about this woman over the past few months, it was that she could write a thesis on stubbornness. She would reveal what she wanted to reveal, when she wanted to reveal it.

  It was twenty minutes later before she at last turned her head to study him with a troubled expression.

  “Dante?”

  “Yes?”

  “Viper seemed angry when you spoke with him earlier.”

  Dante abruptly clenched his fingers on the steering wheel. He had presumed that Abby had been far too occupied with ensuring none of the guests were creeping toward her neck to notice his confrontation with his fellow vampire. It seemed that not even a hotel filled with vampires and demons indulging in orgies could keep her properly distracted.

  “He wasn’t overly eager to hand over the keys to his favorite Porsche,” he retorted in light tones. “He can be annoyingly possessive of his toys.”

  “No.” She gave a decisive shake of her head. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Rather harsh, lover,” he protested.

  “He
didn’t want you to take me to the coven. Why?”

  Dante muttered a low curse. Damn Viper and his poor imitation of a mother hen.

  “You could not possibly have heard what was said between us,” he futilely attempted to bluster.

  “I know you were arguing and that he was trying to convince you of something,” she charged. “He’s worried about what the coven will do to you, isn’t he?”

  “Viper has always distrusted magic.”

  “Dante, I want the truth.” She folded her arms over her chest, clearly taking on a don’t-screw-with-me attitude. “Will they harm you?”

  He shrugged. “They need me.”

  “They did need you, but now everything has changed,” she muttered, striking far too close to the truth. “In fact, I think that we should reconsider seeking out the witches.”

  “What?”

  “I won’t have you hurt.”

  Dante grimly kept his gaze on the empty road. Despite his undeniable flare of pleasure at her concern, he wasn’t about to make this woman into a martyr.

  “Abby, we have no choice.”

  “There are always choices.”

  His expression hardened at her soft words. “Not if you are to be rid of the Phoenix. They’re the only ones capable of transferring the power to another.”

  There was a long pause, and Dante had almost convinced himself that he had forced Abby to see reason when she cleared her throat.

  “Then maybe I should just keep it.”

  The car dangerously swerved before Dante could regain command of himself. Bloody hell, the woman never failed to catch him off guard. Slowing to a mere crawl, he shot her a disgruntled frown.

  “Yon don’t know what you’re saying,” he growled. “You haven’t been prepared to become the Chalice.”

  She gave a lift of her brows. “Was Selena?”

  He grimaced as he recalled his former mistress. Although Selena had been human, she had always possessed the arrogant belief that she was above others. Not surprising for the daughter of a duke who considered himself on equal footing with his own god. Selena had viewed the power and immortality of the Phoenix as her right rather than her duty.

  “She knewwhat she was getting into,” he muttered.

  Abby reached out to lightly touch his arm. “Then tell me.”

  Dante carefully chose his words. He didn’t want to add to her terror, but then again, he had to make sure that she understood precisely why it was impossible for her to carry such a burden.

  “Can you imagine what it is like to be immortal?” he at last demanded.

  “Well, I can imagine it makes life insurance a rather moot point.”

  “Abby,” he rasped.

  She gave a lift of her shoulder. “I’ll admit I’ve never had reason to give it much thought.”

  “It means watching your family and friends wither and die while you remain precisely the same,” he informed her sharply. “It means watching life pass by without ever touching you. It means being utterly alone.”

  She offered a humorless laugh. “My so-called relatives could have posed for the poster of dysfunctional families. My father terrorized and then abandoned us, my mother drank herself into an early grave, and my brothers fled Chicago the moment they could escape.” There was a brief silence. “I have always been alone,” she whispered in the dark.

  Dante flinched. “Abby.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath, clearly regretting her brief moment of vulnerability.

  “What else?”

  “You will always be hunted,” he retorted starkly, thrusting aside the urge to offer her comfort. He had to make her see sense. “Every moment, some evil will be plotting your death.”

  She turned in her seat to regard him squarely. “But you said that the Phoenix is beginning to disguise itself.”

  “It is, but there are always those with enough power or desperation to track you down. That was why I was chained to the spirit as protection.”

  He could feel her gaze sweeping over his rigid profile.

  “Then you can protect me.”

  Dante stiffened, his skin prickling with a sudden wave of self-disgust.

  “Like I protected Selena?” he growled.

  “Dante, you can’t blame yourself—”

  “It is not a matter of blame; it is a matter of knowledge,” he retorted in black tones. “Bloody hell, I don’t even know what killed her. Which means the sooner I get you to the witches, the better.”

  “Dante—”

  “No.” He turned his head to stab her with a fierce glare. “We must do this for the Phoenix, Abby. It must be protected by those who are best suited to keep it from harm.”

  Neatly outmaneuvered, Abby offered a frustrated scowl before throwing herself back into the soft leather of her seat.

  “You don’t fight entirely fair, you know.”

  His lips twisted with wry humor. “A vampire, sweetness, never fights fair. We only fight to win.”

  —

  Nearly an hour later, Abby gamely battled her way through the weeds that had taken command of the fields about the industrial park.

  Weeds and obnoxious, nuclear-mutant thorn bushes, she discovered as she halted for the hundredth time to salvage her jeans from destruction. Hell, she had never liked nature. It was dirty and filled with crawly creatures and things that made her sneeze. And this little jaunt wasn’t making her any fonder. Why the witches couldn’t have set up shop in the local mall defied her imagination.

  Of course, the weeds and thorns were only a small part of her current discomfort, she ruefully conceded. The knots twisting her stomach and the dryness of her mouth was entirely due to the witches that they currently sought.

  Dante was adamant that it was their only option, but she was not nearly so convinced. Whatever their noble motives, she had witnessed Selena’s screams of mercy as they had forced the powerful spirit into her body, and worse, their contempt of Dante as they had bound him with their magic.

  Gould women capable of such acts truly be trusted?

  Feeling a nervous sickness clenching her stomach, Abby turned to regard the man walking at her side. She was in dire need of a distraction if she didn’t want to embarrass herself by running away in screeching terror.

  “If you intended to sweep me off my feet with a moonlight stroll, Dante, I have to tell you that I’m not impressed,” she teased in strained tones.

  Turning his head, Dante flashed his familiar wicked grin. “For shame, lover. What could be more romantic than a gentle night breeze—”

  “Perfumed with the rank stench of factories.”

  “Or being surrounded by the beauty of nature.”

  “Itchy, scratchy weeds that are going to leave a very unpleasant rash.”

  He chuckled at her tart words. “At least you must admit that you’ve never had a more handsome, charming, sexy companion.”

  Well, he had her there, she acknowledged wryly. Not in her wildest fantasies could she have ever imagined such a devilishly handsome man even existed.

  “Perhaps,” she grudgingly conceded. “But most of my dates don’t come complete with packs of demons, monsters, and zombies.”

  A raven brow arched. “Dull bastards. They obviously don’t understand the potent allure of a true adventure.”

  “Adventure?” Abby swatted at a biting mosquito with a grimace. “An adventure is walking through St. Mark’s Square in Venice, or sipping coffee in a charming bistro in Paris. Not wading through a briar patch in search of witches.”

  “Actually, the last time I attempted to enjoy coffee in Paris, I nearly had my head lopped off by the guillotine,” he murmured. “So you see, lover, it’s all a matter of perspective.”

  Abby stumbled at the off-hand confession. “Good Lord, would you stop that?” she complained.

  “What?”

  “Mentioning the past so casually. I thought I was ancient because I can remember Melrose Place.”

  He merely laughed. Damn his vamp
ire soul. “You were the one who brought up the subject of Paris. I was merely offering my own experiences there.”

  Her gaze swept over the beautiful features bathed in moonlight. “So you were really in Paris during the Reign of Terror?”

  “For a few unforgettable months.” He smiled ruefully. “I would suggest that you visit when there isn’t a revolution in progress.”

  Abby rolled her eyes. Her in glamorous, sophisticated Paris? Yeah, the same day that she sprouted wings and tattooed her butt.

  “I’ll keep that in mind when the destined-never-to-be opportunity rolls around,” she said dryly.

  His eyes smoldered like liquid silver in the shadows. “Who knows what the future might hold, lover? A few days ago you didn’t expect to be on the run with a vampire or battling to save the world from evil.”

  “Actually, it would have seemed a lot more likely than a luxurious vacation in France.”

  Reaching out, he gave a tug on a curl that had strayed from her braid. “You’re too young to be so cynical.”

  “I’m realistic, not cynical,” she corrected firmly. “Vacations in Paris are not for women who make minimum wage and—” She came to an abrupt halt, her eyes widening in horror. “Holy hell.”

  A subtle tension prickled around Dante as he swept a searching gaze about them. “What is it?”

  “I’m out of a job, and my rent is due.”

  There was a moment of sharp silence before Dante tilted back his head to offer a very unsympathetic laugh. With a frown, Abby slapped her hands on her hips.

  “What’s so funny?”

  He reached up to grasp her chin with his slender fingers. “You’ve become a Chalice for a powerful spirit, confronted demons, and are about to place yourself in the hands of witches. Now you’re worried about whether or not you can pay the rent?”

  Her eyes narrowed at his amusement. “I’m worried about spending my days pushing a shopping cart down the streets and sleeping under a park bench—very real possibilities that are as bad as any demon or witch.”

  His brows drew together as his fingers strayed to brush over her cheek. “You think I would allow you to be tossed into the street?”

  Something painful clenched in her heart. Soon enough, the witches would remove the spell from her and Dante would be bound to another. Why would he ever give her another thought?