Of Blood and Passion

by Pamela Palmer

  Bram stepped forward, motioning to his associates. “Lower your weapons. They are no threat. I stake my life on this.” When he reached them, his appraising gaze landed first on her, then Arturo. “It seems we’ve been keeping secrets from one another, Ax.”

  Arturo dipped his head. “A necessity, given the circumstances. I feared you’d become too close to him.”

  “I feared the same of you.”

  A glimmer of a smile breached Arturo’s mouth. “And now we are both involved in things of which Cristoff would not approve.”

  Bram gave a low laugh that held no humor. “Cristoff approves of nothing these days unless it involves the mutilation or death of another. Why are you here?”

  Arturo glanced at the small, armed throng behind Bram. “I will share that with you and Grant alone.”

  “Fair enough.” Bram clasped Arturo on the shoulder and thrust out his other hand. As they shook, he said, “I had thought you lost to us, Ax.”

  Arturo clasped Bram’s shoulder in turn, his mouth twisting. “I was, more than I realized. But no more. You look good.”

  An understatement. Now that he was close, Quinn could see that Bram was both clean-shaven and dressed in clothes that didn’t look like they’d been slept in a dozen times, neither of which she’d seen from him before.

  “I’m feeling a hundred percent better. Three hundred.” He shook his head. “I’m not sure what’s changed, but in the past twenty-four hours my need for pain has almost returned to normal. I no longer feel like I need a hit every twenty minutes.” He turned to Quinn. “Is this your doing, sorceress? Are you and your magic somehow healing us?”

  She was about to say no, that she didn’t have that kind of power. But she suddenly remembered what the dying elf Vintry had called her. The Healer. He’d claimed that her coming had been foretold, as had her partnership with the Snake. Presumably Arturo. But he’d never gotten the chance to tell her more, and he was likely gone now.

  “I have no idea, Bram.” she replied instead.

  “We believe Phineas Blackstone poisoned the magic of this place, whether intentionally or not,” Arturo said. “With the magic’s dying, the poison is losing its grip on us.”

  Bram’s mouth twisted. “So that which frees us, kills us.” He glanced at Quinn. “You’re either the bravest person I’ve ever met, or the most foolish. You must know what Cristoff will do to you if he finds you.” He grimaced. “No offense, Quinn. You’d think I was a fear feeder.”

  Quinn shrugged. “No offense taken. I know what he’ll do. Or as much as I need to. I’ll tell you more in private.”

  Bram nodded, shook hands with Kassius and Micah, then turned and led the way into the throng of onlookers.

  As they passed those who’d moments before held guns on them, Quinn found herself the object of intense interest and surprising warmth. Several people patted her on the back or tried to shake her hand. The vampires, however, were far more attentive to her friends, greeting them with smiles and no small amount of relief, especially Arturo, Cristoff’s most ‘loyal’. It occurred to her that everyone down there was aligned against Cristoff. The other vampires must be hugely gratified to realize that even Arturo and his circle were traitors.

  Once they’d passed through the reception line, they continued down the tunnel, Bram leading the way, Grant bringing up the rear.

  “I take it you trust those guards?” she asked Bram.

  “I do. All here work toward the same purpose.”

  “Which is?”

  He glanced at her. “Freeing Cristoff’s slaves before he murders them all. Especially the children.”

  The thought of children in Cristoff’s clutches made her physically ill.

  “He hasn’t touched any of the kids, yet,” Bram added quickly, reading her expression right. “Perhaps there’s a line even Cristoff won’t cross, though I wouldn’t lay any bets on that these days.”

  Finally, after they’d walked for what felt like half a mile, they reached the low doorway into the cavern where Quinn had been before. One by one, they ducked into what was essentially a large cave cut out of the rock. The light from the lantern Bram carried illuminated the damp walls, casting shadows above the numerous natural shelves. Not for the first time, she wondered if there were really tunnels and caverns beneath the once swampy D.C., or if these were strictly Grant’s creation.

  Quinn took a seat on a stone that jutted from the wall, and Micah sat beside her. The others remained standing.

  “Cristoff has gone completely off the rails,” Bram told them. His expression was that of a man who’d seen things no man should see. And she knew he had. They all had in this place. “The male we used to know is gone. You’ve seen evidence of it, Ax, but he’s getting worse by the day. By the hour. Many of the long-time Gonzaga vampires are starting to reclaim their souls. Those Cristoff hasn’t killed have escaped.”

  “You’re still here,” Arturo said.

  “Someone has to get the humans out.”

  Arturo nodded. “So there are fewer guards?”

  “Not fewer, no. In the past forty-eight hours, alone, we’ve had more than two dozen vampires arrive at Gonzaga, pledging allegiance to Cristoff.”

  Micah frowned. “Why in the hell would they do that when he’s killing his own?”

  “They say their own masters are returning to older, softer ways, and they want nothing to do with it.”

  “Souls really are reawakening,” Micah said. “Across the city.”

  “Many of them.” Bram grunted. “The vampires being drawn to Cristoff have no souls. They probably never had them, even when they were human. They’re as depraved as our master.”

  “So nothing’s changed at Gonzaga Castle.”

  Bram’s mouth tightened, but he shook his head. “Essentially, no.”

  “Has he attacked any of the new guards?” Kassius asked.

  “Not so far, no. He embraces them, encourages them to torture and kill to their hearts’ content. Hence the grave need to get the humans out of here.”

  Arturo frowned. “If he catches you…”

  “I’m dead. But when the magic fails…” Bram shrugged. “I’m dead either way. Maybe I can do some good before that happens.” He scratched his chin, then paused as if surprised to find his jaw clean-shaven. “Tell us why you’re here, Ax.”

  Arturo took a deep breath and let it out slowly, as if weighing his words. “Quinn’s not just the Black Wizard’s heir, but Levenach’s as well.”

  Quinn found a small measure of satisfaction as she watched Grant’s eyes widen.

  Bram whistled. “The curse…”

  “Yes,” Arturo said. “Not only has it bound her Levenach magic, but it’s strangling her Blackstone.”

  “That’s why being in the Focus hurts her,” Grant murmured.

  And it was true. Twice she’d stood in the center of the small energy dome they called the Focus—the very spot where Phineas Blackstone had stood to create Vamp City in 1870—and tried to renew the magic. The Focus only accepted those with Blackstone blood and while it had let her in, the energy had turned on her, attacking her, both times. The second time, she’d honestly feared it might kill her, which was why Arturo had been so angry with her for not coming out. He’d been unable to follow her in to rescue her when her stubborn determination to save her brother at all costs had nearly cost her life.

  “The Focus recognized her as Blackstone.” Grant’s brows rose. “But it also recognized her as Levenach. It saw her as both friend and foe.”

  “What’s the answer then?” Bram asked. “It will always attack her.”

  “Yes,” Quinn said. “I can handle the pain. The trouble is, the curse is hampering my Blackstone magic and as long as it is, I can’t save the city. We have to break the curse.”

  Grant frowned. “And how do we do that?”

  Arturo hesitated, his gaze moving from Bram to Grant to Bram again.

  “Destroy Escalla.”

  The cave went sile
nt. Finally, Bram made a sound of disbelief. “You’ll never get near it.”

  Arturo turned to Grant. “What do you know about the sword?”

  Grant looked at him with surprise. “Very little. Cristoff keeps it hanging in that case. I certainly don’t know how to destroy it.”

  “Then it’s a good thing we already have a plan.” Arturo’s smile was grim as his gaze remained locked on Phineas Blackstone’s eldest son. “And we need your help.” Grant scowled, but Arturo just lifted his hand. “You needn’t do anything but lend your likeness to Quinn for a time so that she can travel through the castle without drawing attention.”

  Grant’s scowl deepened. “And if she’s seen…if I’m seen…sneaking away from the site of the crime? I won’t survive the day.”

  “Then leave. It’s not safe here for you anymore, not for anyone. Besides, you owe Quinn this.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  Arturo advanced on him slowly. “When Quinn attempted to renew the magic yesterday, you promised to have Sheridan send her the words she needed to perform the ritual. The words were garbage.”

  The expression that registered on Grant’s face was fleeting, but unmistakable. A smirk.

  Quinn caught her breath.

  Arturo grabbed Grant and slammed him up against the nearest rock wall, leaving his feet dangling in the air. “You never asked Sheridan for the words, did you, you bastard? You intentionally fed Quinn false words so that she would fail to renew the magic. Why?”

  Quinn shot to her feet as she, too, rounded on Grant. They’d never been friends, but she’d thought him at least a casual ally seeing as they were both Blackstone sorcerers and shared a common hatred for Cristoff.

  Grant managed to croak out an answer. “Haven’t you figured it out by now? I hate this city. I want it to die. And I want to die with it.”

  A heavy silence descended upon the small group. Micah and Kassius exchanged looks. One after another, they turned to Bram.

  Bram was the one who’d brought Grant into their midst to hear all their secrets and their plans. Yet it was clear, now, that Grant Blackstone was no ally. And if he wasn’t, what of the others who knew they were down here? What of Bram himself?

  Their mission might well have been compromised before it ever started.

  Chapter 10

  The tension in the cave deep below Gonzaga Castle was thick enough to choke them all as Kassius and Micah pulled knives on Bram while Arturo continued to hold Grant pinned against the cave wall.

  Grant Blackstone had never been Quinn’s favorite person. He’d helped her a few times, but she’d never gotten the sense that he particularly liked her. Maybe because she supposedly had so much more magic than he did, though she knew Grant could do things she could only dream of. Still, feeding her false words when she’d risked her life to renew the magic yesterday had been a nasty move.

  Bram lifted his hands slowly, watching his friends. “There is no betrayal here. You know Grant hates vampires. He’s never made any pretense of feeling otherwise. But he despises Cristoff more than he dislikes all the rest of us combined. He won’t betray your mission.”

  “True,” Grant choked out.

  Quinn’s hard gaze swung from Grant to Bram and back again. She’d always found Grant hard to read. Or maybe not, now that she thought about it. The first time she was Cristoff’s captive, Grant had helped her escape in exchange for her assisting a handful of humans to leave Vamp City. She’d figured he was either setting a trap for her or he was being particularly self-sacrificing, given that he had every expectation that she’d leave Vamp City as well. And she was the only one with a chance of saving his world.

  Now it all made far more sense. He hadn’t wanted his world saved. She remembered him saying something to that effect at the time, but she hadn’t realized he’d meant it quite so literally.

  As she watched, Arturo slowly loosened his grip on the sorcerer’s throat. “You almost killed her yesterday in the Focus,” Arturo growled.

  Grant glanced at Quinn. “Not…my intent. Just wanted…her…to fail.”

  “I found the words,” Quinn told him. “They came to me eventually. If my magic had been free, I could have saved V.C.” It gave her a measure of satisfaction to tell him that.

  Slowly, Arturo released Grant, but he kept him pinned by his gaze. “And why should you help us, Blackstone, when our goal is to save this world and yours is to see it die?”

  Grant straightened his shirt, meeting the vampires’ gaze. “Because as much as I want Vamp City to die, I want Cristoff to suffer more. And watching his favorite sons conspire against him is the most fun I’ve had in one hundred forty years.”

  Arturo stared at him. “As I said, Quinn will use your likeness. You will remain hidden. If she is seen and your safety compromised, you may escape. Or die. I care not which.”

  Grant’s expression turned bitter, but he didn’t argue.

  Arturo turned to Bram who was still being threatened by his friends’ knives. “Kassius, too, will need a glamour that won’t be compromised. Someone else who will remain out of sight.”

  “He’s welcome to take my face.” Bram nodded toward the closed door. “Or that of any of the vampires’ with me.”

  Arturo studied Bram for several minutes more, then finally motioned Kassius and Micah to put their weapons away.

  “How is it that Cristoff’s snake now betrays him?” Grant asked, his tone challenging.

  Arturo sent him a hard look even as he answered. “I do not betray the master I loved, only the monster who now wears his face.”

  Grant’s expression turned thoughtful. “My father hated Cristoff above all others for forcing him to renew the magic in the way he did.” Grant lifted his hand, waving the three fingers that remained. “I believe he tied the magic most tightly to Cristoff, separating him from his soul most completely.”

  “Your father did not separate us from our souls,” Arturo snapped. “No matter how much he might have desired to. But he took many of our souls hostage to varying degrees. Cristoff’s has been bound more tightly than most.”

  “That’s putting it mildly,” Bram muttered.

  Quinn hated that Arturo continued to hold out hope that Cristoff, too, would return to the man he’d once been. Even if Cristoff did, she wouldn’t be safe from him. Even when he supposedly had honor, he was ruthless to his enemies. Grant’s missing fingers were testament to that. And, having escaped him twice, she had no illusions. She was number one on his hit list.

  The thought did nothing to calm nerves already stretched tight at the knowledge that Cristoff’s house of horrors lay virtually on top of her right now.

  “It’s time to get moving,” Micah said, rising. “The night won’t last forever.”

  Quinn’s pulse shot straight to the ceiling. As one, Kassius and Arturo swung her way as if they’d felt that jolt of anxiety. And of course they had, fear feeders that they were.

  “I need to feed,” Micah continued. “My stores are depleted from all the glamouring and unglamouring.” Unfortunately, it was pleasure Micah needed, not fear, or he’d be feeding just fine right now.

  “I’m sure a couple of our number would be willing to pair off to accommodate you,” Bram said.

  It took Quinn a moment for his meaning to sink in. Pair off. When it did, her eyes widened.

  “No need. I’ve got the best source I’ve found in a while right here, if they’ll kiss and make up.” Micah’s gaze moved from her to Arturo and back again, a question in his eyes.

  Quinn knew he meant the ‘kiss’ literally. When she and Arturo kissed in his presence…or anything more intimate…they apparently fed Micah thoroughly.

  “But I will need blood,” he added.

  “One of the Slavas will accommodate you.” Bram looked to Arturo. “Are we through here?”

  At Arturo’s nod, Bram turned and exited through the low door, Grant following behind him.

  Kassius eyed her, Arturo, and Micah with a h
int of amusement. “Is it safe to leave you three alone?”

  Quinn grunted. “Are you worried about them or me?”

  “Them.”

  A badly-needed laugh burst from her throat. “Go. I won’t kill them, I promise.”

  With a chuckle, Kassius ducked out through the doorway after Grant.

  Quinn rose, crossing her arms over her chest and turned to Arturo. She could refuse to kiss him, of course. And part of her wanted to do just that, even if it would be foolish when they needed Micah’s glamour to proceed.

  For several moments they just watched one another, neither making the first move. No, she realized. He watched her. The first move was hers to make.

  Slowly she uncrossed her arms and walked to him, stopping a hand’s breadth away.

  “Tesoro.” He lifted a hand and brushed back a lock of her hair, then slowly raised both hands to cup her cheeks. Deep within those cool, strong hands, she could feel the slightest tremor.

  Quinn frowned and covered his hands with her own. “You’re shaking.”

  A tiny scowl formed between his eyebrows. “I do not shake.”

  “Of course not.” But he was. And his being this unsettled unnerved her even more. “Vampire…”

  Still holding her face in his hands, he tilted his forehead against hers. “The thought of you walking through this castle without me…” A shudder tore through him. “If he catches you…”

  “Turo,” she said softly, moved by the depth of his concern, then slid her arms around him and brushed his lips with her own.

  The kiss started out tender, a caress, a promise, before slowly catching fire. Within moments, his mouth was plundering hers, and hers his, flames bursting to life all down the length of her body and deep, deep inside. Her breath grew ragged, her flesh burning as his lips trailed across her cheek, and down to the base of her neck.

  Tilting her head to the side, she gave him access, a thrill of anticipation leaping within her.

  She felt his tongue tease the tender flesh between her neck and her shoulder, and her fingers reflexively fisted in his shirt. His lips turned warm as they brushed her neck. A moment later, she felt his fangs sink into her on a painless slide. As she shivered with expectation, he took one long, perfect pull of her blood. She gasped, her body reacting as it always did to his bite, and his bite alone—with a violent, glorious orgasm.