“Yes, I see her black residue all over the room.” She glared at me. “It’s best when amateurs leave things like this to professionals.”
Cyn’s face turned to an all-out grimace. “She’s right. You could have been taken, too. Failing at witchcraft is a really stupid move.”
“Well, I wasn’t taken, and I was smart enough to call you and everyone in. And no, I didn’t fail. I saw the familiars, and I saw Mom.”
“But you didn’t actually find them? Now all you’ve done is tipped Rosencratz’s hand that we’re on to her. Nice work.”
My fist itched to deck her.
Max stepped between us. “Maybe if we concentrate on working together, we can find them. You want Sebastian back, right? Your sister saw him. He’s alive.”
Cyn backed down. “Yes, I want him back. Was he hurt?”
Victoria interrupted us. “The shifter is right. This negative energy between the two of you will only yield you both continued grief. I’m sure your ultimate goal is peace, but if you continue down the road you’re on, your mother will suffer the most.”
Cyn put her hand on her hip. “She’s right, Sam. Truce?”
“For now,” I said. “Sure. Mom’s our top priority.”
One witch lit a sage bundle and smudged the room, sending the pungent smoke of the dry, crisp leaves up into the corners of the brownstone to clear the negative energy from the air. The other four pulled out elements to reinforce the crude circle I’d attempted earlier. Salt. Candles. Brightly colored gemstones. Talismans. Secret herbs. Before I knew it, the entire room had been transformed into a sophisticated triple-ringed scrying channel we could use to find the victims.
“With our collective power, we should be able to escort the victims through the circle and into this house,” Victoria said. “With any luck, we’ll recover your mother as well.”
“Good, a woman with a plan.” I stood guard at the edge of the circle with Max on one side of me, and Cyn on the other. Watching my sister arrange new purple candles, light them, and reinforce the edges of the circle to help Victoria with the spell amazed me. She certainly knew her stuff. Honestly, I didn’t have the patience for this sort of thing. I just wanted to blast something.
We united our hands when Victoria started the spell. I watched the witches perform the ritual, listened to their words, and when they opened the portal, I saw my mother. She was chained to a cement wall, bound with metal shackles.
Atlantis buzzed under my skin, willing itself to my side, and I let the trident materialize. They could say anything they wanted to about my less-than-effective witchy powers. If the paranormal shit hit the fan, I wanted a weapon in my hands to skewer Rosencratz through the heart.
“Listen to that . . .” I said.
An eerie bass Gregorian chant started up, the first sign that the magic was working, that we could hear what was happening on the other side. Drumbeats accompanied the voices, and the sound sent a spike of adrenaline surging through me, pricking the back of my neck with goose bumps. Atlantis buzzed, and crackled with energy.
The image of several monks, bald and dressed in red robes, singing and chanting, materialized through the candle smoke. One wore a dark brown robe, and he was holding a squirming calico cat over a cauldron of boiling oil.
Miss Daisy.
“Mom,” Max growled.
I gasped, but Cyn shot us a heated glare, and held her finger over her lips to shush both of us.
The other witches moved into the circle, their bodies assuming ghostly outlines in the room with the monks. They pointed out landmarks around the apparition of the room. It looked like the basement of a large Manhattan building.
I swallowed hard. A poster of a 1921 World’s Fair art exhibition hung on one wall with a banner that read The Metropolitan Museum of Art. That meant they were close, then. Really just a few blocks away, on the other side of Central Park.
My heart slammed into my breastbone as I glanced around the apparition. Another figure moved in and out of the shadows, a man, tall, with black hair, dressed in a contemporary black suit.
Our witches were still too far away to stop Miss Daisy’s sacrifice.
My heart raced, and I picked Atlantis up and aimed the tines at the monk holding her over the cauldron. Victoria held her hand out for me to wait, and swept through the vision to take the cat from the monk’s hands. Once she clutched Miss Daisy tight against her chest, and walked back toward us, back toward the portal, Rosencratz appeared behind her.
Rosencratz used her hands to blast a red chain of sizzling magic around Victoria’s form.
Our witches reached for Victoria, but Rosencratz laughed, a high-pitched tinkling sound. “I knew you’d come for Helmina. Why settle for one powerful witch when I can have two?”
Oh hell, this is going nowhere good. “Somebody stop her!”
Victoria shrieked, and Rosencratz dragged her backward, away from our circle. Miss Daisy leaped from Victoria’s arms, and drew blood when she scratched Rosencratz’s cheek. The cat bounded off the scene, headed back for my mother.
“Cyn, do something!” They tried, but Rosencratz was too powerful. Oh, hell no. They were gonna lose Victoria too.
I targeted Rosencratz with Atlantis. The blast of lightning, courtesy of my uncle Zeus, blew her back across the room. Her henchmen turned on us and leapt through the portal into the brownstone.
I zapped their asses too. They were blown back through the portal, left writhing and screaming on the cement floor. I ran forward, lifted Victoria under the arms with Atlantis, and dragged her back against the salt circle, breaking the spell.
She collapsed on top of me, both of us heaving in air. “I told you not to interfere, Samantha.”
“I just saved your ass!” Ungrateful . . .
“I could have gotten them out if you hadn’t shown our position.”
“That’s not what it looked like to me.” I reared up, and glared around the room at five very angry faces. “You wanted me to let them take her?”
“We wanted to gather more information,” Victoria said in a huff, as Max helped her off the floor. “I could have retrieved them both if you hadn’t interfered.”
“She was waiting for you. Was I the only one in the room who saw her freaky monk henchmen coming after Victoria?”
“If you hadn’t tried to practice magic without us before, we could have been successful. Now you’ve done nothing but anger Rosencratz. There will be consequences.” Victoria slammed her hands onto her curvy hips.
Ungrateful damn witches. “I’ve seen all I need to see. Rosencratz is sacrificing familiars to assimilate their owners’ powers. You guys can stay here and practice all the magic you want to, but I’m going to get my mother back, and Max’s mother too.”
Cyn rushed to my side and tugged on my arm. “What? So you’re just going to barge into the Met in the middle of the night and attempt things your way? God, haven’t you learned anything?” She flung her hand back at the circle. “That’s black magic she’s using. You have no business going there, doing this!”
“And if I don’t go, who the hell will?” I turned away from her and headed for the front door. Max followed me. I hesitated and looked back at my sister. “I was wrong. Your magic isn’t strong enough to stop this. But mine is.”
“Don’t go. I don’t want her to take you, too. We’ll call the cops. Tell them where they are,” Cyn said, flabbergasted, her eyes wild with concern.
“No.” I shook my head. “Don’t you see? When it comes to creatures like Rosencratz, I am the cops. I’m Mom’s only hope.”
I ripped open the front door of the brownstone and stormed out onto the streets of Manhattan, then turned left, and headed for the Hunter’s Gate of Central Park, Max hot on my heels. We had monsters to hunt.
Chapter 21
Shade
SHADE AND FIVE undercover HWB agents entered the subterranean Meatpacking District Italian restaurant and bar. Massimo’s had over five hundred bookings the night before Halloween. He searched the dark cavern-like atmosphere for Kristoff, but the other vampire wasn’t there yet, or if he was, he was in one of the back rooms already. Perfect. Time for him and his guys to get into place before showtime.
“What’ll you have, handsome?” The bartender was obviously fey. With platinum blond hair and silver eyes, she had that tender, almost ethereal glow about her. And she wasn’t just offering Shade what was on the menu. It was true what they said about New York City. You could find anything you wanted, especially after dark, if you looked hard enough, carried enough cash, and knew the right people.
The cover charge totaled over a grand per person. Shade glanced around at all the exposed brick, the sleek black bar, and the mix of old-world Italy meeting upscale Manhattan. He took a seat at the bar, while the other guys sat down at tables. “Manhattan. Straight up. Extra cherries,” Shade said, with a sly smile. “I understand that’s your specialty.”
“So, you’re the cherry guy. We’ve been expecting you.” She smiled, impressed with his order, and whipped up the cocktail. She placed the drink in front of him, and he drank deeply. The bourbon was old-world too, tangy on his tongue, and worth every cent.
A pianist enhanced the low-lit atmosphere with chords from a baby grand. Several couples danced, and waiters took customer’s orders. The aromas coming from the kitchen were worth the price of admission.
Other supernaturals were patrons here. He sensed them—vampires, fey, weres, and an angel. If he wasn’t mistaken, a witch was cooking in the kitchen.
“My friend Druscilla said Massimo had a booking tonight for this man,” Shade said, flashing a photo of Kristoff on his phone for her to see.
She tossed him a shoulder. “Massimo’s down the hall. He said if you showed, it would cost you another grand for an audience tonight. He’s very busy.”
Shade flipped her the bills. No price was too high to pay to get a chance to take Kristoff down.
The lovely fey girl curled her index finger at him, and he followed her down a darkened corridor. The other guys kept watch among the patrons, enjoying their meal, blending in, just in case anyone got antsy, and decided to interfere.
“Vermillion! So good to see you.” Massimo stood to greet him in his private office, a big space that fit the older Italian vampire. It was decorated with overlarge dark antique furniture, and had an enormous fireplace already ablaze. What surprised Shade was the modern bank of monitors where Massimo watched a live digital feed of his customers who wanted more than the average New Yorker, or tourist.
“You, too. How’s your family?”
They shook hands, and Massimo pulled him into a big hug. They’d spent time together in Massimo’s vineyard estates in Italy during the years when Shade had first been turned. If it hadn’t been for the kindness of the older vampires, Shade might have gone insane. “Mama is well. Still cooking. She asks about you from time to time. You should come around more often.”
When Massimo wanted to move his family to the states, Shade had made their immigration not only legal, but easy.
“You’ve seen him?” Shade asked. There was no need to mention Kristoff’s name. Massimo had issues with the vampire, too.
Massimo nodded, sat at his desk, and showed him a video of Kristoff feeding from three more-than-willing beautiful women. Shade’s blood ran colder than normal.
“This was from last night. He’s booked the same girls for tonight. You may wait for him in the room, if you’d like.”
He shook his head. “He’ll sense something’s off. I’d rather go in during the act, while he’s distracted.”
Massimo nodded. “Perhaps that would be best. There’s a back exit hall. You and your agents can wait there.” He stood up and walked to the opposite side of the room, then opened a tall wooden armoire. Inside the well-lit cabinet waited at least a thousand silver daggers, knives, and swords. “Take what you like, Shade. I want to make sure you have the tools to get the job done right tonight.”
Shade picked a two-foot-long silver dagger with elven runes etched into the blade, and a hilt wrapped well with leather. He added them to his own weapons. The leather would protect him from the weakening effects of the silver, and if he got lucky tonight, maybe the elven blade would find a home in Kristoff’s black heart.
Chapter 22
Sam
I DON’T ADVISE normal people to walk through Manhattan’s streets after midnight, but I wasn’t your average human, and neither was Max.
For one, Central Park can be scary at night—mostly because the cops will arrest you if they catch you there after curfew. Park hours are 6:00 a.m. to 1:00 a.m. After that, the risk of getting hauled in to a local precinct is the worst part of New York at this time of night.
Once we hit the intersection in front of Hunter’s Gate, we left the last of the bright sidewalk lights, and stole into the cover of the shadows. Max gave me a boost, and once I was over the stone gate, he landed on his feet beside me. It was dark on this side. The moon had yet to rise, and Central Park was sleeping.
“Keep close to the paths. Don’t stumble over those roots,” Max said, holding my elbow, guiding me.
“What is that, some sort of mad cat-shifter skill? You can see in the dark?”
“Yeah. I can.” Max pulled a cellphone out of his pocket. “I’m calling Shade.”
I was the tour guide here, and we didn’t need an escort. “Why?”
“He needs to know where we’re going. So far, this assignment is totally off the books, and if I lose you, he’d never forgive me.”
“If you lose me . . .?” I huffed. “You just need to try to keep up.” I knew this park like the back of my hand. I’d spent summers here as a child with Mom and Cyn, and I wasn’t intimidated. Hell, it was probably the safest place in the world at night, as long as you didn’t draw attention to yourself.
Max kept his conversation with Shade short, and his voice at a low whisper, thank goodness. He relayed what we’d seen in the witch’s circle, and that our goal was to physically remove the familiars and our mothers ourselves. When he ended the call, he said, “Shade’s tending to a nasty vampire uprising down in the Meatpacking District, but he’s got a team on standby. All we have to do is call.”
We crossed the park and I grasped Max’s hand, making him pause for the world-class view of Manhattan after dark. “Wow,” Max said. “Someone should take a picture of that. Incredible.”
I smiled. Dozens of copies of this landscape at night were scattered across social media, and Pinterest. How could he not know that? “It really humbles a person to witness this view. I love this city.”
He pulled me into his arms and kissed me hard on the mouth, his lips soft, but demanding. Gosh, I could really use a day or two in his arms when this was over, maybe wandering the streets of Manhattan, or hanging out with my dad down in his castle. My body tingled in anticipation, but we had no time to lose tonight.
I tugged on his hand. “Come on. We’ve got to break into the Met and find them.”
We made our way through the chilly October night to the museum. I found a side door, and pulled out Atlantis. I touched the tines to the security panel, zapped it lightly, and disabled the alarm. The door clicked open, and we both slipped inside, undetected.
That was way too easy.
The security guards were the next real problem. Two men, dressed in light-blue shirts, with black belts and guns strode toward us. I waved Atlantis at them, and crystals of blue mist wafted up and around them. I’d practiced this trick with Atlantis plenty during my time with the HWB. It was good for breaking into places where monsters liked to hide. They hesitated, mesmerized by the magic.
“You’re looki
ng for monks on the roof tonight,” I said. Atlantis charmed them, and they pivoted like good little spelled guards, and patrolled the other way.
We took the stairwell down to the basement. One room opened to art treasures that must have been worth a freaking fortune. For one brief moment, I considered how easy it would be to turn to a life of crime. Getting in here had been a breeze, even with my limited magic.
Is that what Rosencratz had done? Used her black magic to usurp the security measures meant to keep priceless artifacts in, and riffraff out?
Max held his hand up for me to stop at an arched wooden door. He tilted his head, listening.
“What is it?”
“Can’t you hear them?”
“Hear who?” Did he have some freakishly sensitive cat hearing too? I didn’t hear a thing. “What’s in there?”
“Kittens,” he whispered, holding his finger to his lips. “Mewing.”
Atlantis buzzed my hand in warning. Trouble was definitely waiting behind the ancient craggy door.
Max
MAX CLENCHED his jaw. He motioned to the arched door, and Sam lifted her trident. A wave of sparkling magic seeped out from the tines, and whirled toward the lock. Max grinned.
The lock clicked open, and he opened the door. They slipped inside, into a dark, musty room, lit only by the glow of torchlight coming from below. His keen eyesight adjusted to the dark, and his vision sharpened. Sam touched his back, standing on the stairs behind him, waiting for him to lead the way down into the basement. A shiver of dread worked up his spine.
This is it. It was the same room they’d seen back at her mother’s house in the scrying circle with the witches. The 1921 World’s Fair poster hung on the wall.
He sniffed the air, hoping to catch more information with his nose. A growl from off in the cavernous room caught his excellent hearing. Miss Daisy was curled up in Helmina’s lap on the other side of the room. Helmina was chained to the wall, her arms suspended above her. Max winced. She had to be in pain. Sam held on to his elbow, and he descended the stairs, deeper into the torch-lit lair.
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