by Celia Kyle
“He was useless the rest of the time,” Simond drawled and Joce growled at the approaching male.
Simond shrugged. “It’s the truth.”
Ignoring the vamp, he continued his conversation with Carac. “I was jumped the second I entered the alley.”
“Pixies again?”
He shook his head. “No. Or at least not all pixies.” He closed his eyes, allowing the pain to emerge as he remembered those who struck him. “Vinnie, but a wolf too. A witch. Even a warlock.” Those two never worked well together—if ever. “A brownie? A fae.”
“A faery? Are you sure?” Disbelief filled Carac’s voice.
Joce could understand the sovereign’s surprise. Faeries were universally good. Or they were until recently. “Yes, a fae. Both a light and dark elf. I don’t understand why they all worked together.”
“An ark,” Katherine whispered.
They all turned to her. “What?”
“Say it again.” Shock had Joce shoving the words past his dry lips.
“An ark. It’s…” She closed her eyelids, but he saw her eyes moving beneath the thin skin as if she were reading a book. “A menagerie?” She shook her head. “I can’t remember the specific reference. Argh.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and he held his breath, waiting and somehow knowing this was important. “If you tear the world apart, you need to put it back together with the different races, right? The ones you chose. The One is—”
“Creating his ideal population. Oh shit.” Tory’s voice joined Kate’s. “The One will destroy. The One will create. The One will.”
“It’s not some weird repetition. It’s saying that everything will happen at the One’s will.”
“But why attack Joce? He’s not anyone,” Simond pointed out, and he hated the male for voicing that truth.
“Joce is a protector. The One tried to get rid of Griffin and Liam through the pixie king and Jemshir. Joce is part of the ring and they are still intent on destroying you all,” Tory corrected. “It’ll be even worse now that a true fire is here.”
“But no one knows.” His words earned an eye roll from Tory.
“I’m sure they know already. Or they will soon. Your witches have warded the house, but you all leave at some point or another. There’s no telling what their menagerie can accomplish if they pull a Captain Planet and combine their powers,” Tory drawled. “You don’t think they can’t pluck a thought from someone’s mind? A vamp? Or a human feeder?”
He mouthed the word, trying to place the Captain Planet reference. Tory often pulled parts of the human culture into conversations and he admitted many left him confused.
“And that would be bad,” the female added, saying the words as if he were a child.
Joce glared at her. Annoying tiny female.
“Which makes this even more important.” Katherine squeezed his hand. “I have to do this.”
A fine tremor overtook his fire, and he shook his head. “No, we can find another way.”
“I don’t want any of you getting hurt. That frightens me more than breaking my vow pains me. I can do this.” She stared at him, those eyes glowing with care and a plea. “With you.”
“Always.”
Chapter Fifteen
The dungeon was cleaner than she expected. Almost sterile with its white walls and shining floors. It felt like she stepped into another clinic, but what were normally swinging doors were solid bars. A few gleamed with a polished shine while others were burnished brown or rusted steel.
“Silver for wolves. Different types of metal for various fae,” Joce murmured in her ear.
Unease dogged her steps, chasing her toward their destination. There was only one room secured, an aged wooden door closing off the space from the hallway. This one looked older than the doors that hid the protector rooms from the main manse.
Symbols were carved along the edges and larger ones created a swirling pattern in the center. She reached for it, fingertips tingling with the need to stroke the uneven surface.
It was only Carac’s firm grip that stopped her. “Don’t touch the symbols,” he rasped. “Ever.”
He stared at her, his eyes suddenly a menacing blood red, and she nodded her agreement. His gaze searched hers for one more moment and then he jerked his head in a brisk nod and released her. “Touch nothing as you step through the portal.”
She swallowed hard and stared at the hunk of wood. “What happens if I do sorta touch,” she rubbed her damp palms on her thighs, nerves attacking. “You know, on accident.”
“Don’t.” Carac’s word was firm and final. “The witch can keep him prisoner and protect you within the room as long as we do not disrupt her spells.”
“Right. Okay, no touching. Got it.”
“Her? Just her?” Joce growled low and brought that tidbit to her attention.
“Just me?” Yeah, she was calling bullshit on that one.
“You will be getting too near Jemshir for our comfort.” Carac’s attention shifted from Kate to Joce and back again. “She will have additional wards to cover Katherine, but it means she cannot protect another.”
“No,” Joce snapped.
Well, Kate wasn’t keen on the idea either. She turned toward her mate and placed her hand over his heart. “I’ll be fine. The witch will do her witchy thing. You know this has to be done.”
“We don’t even know if this will work.”
“We know that nothing you’ve done to him has worked so far.” She cupped his cheeks and stared into the eyes she’d come to care for despite their rocky beginnings. “I’ll be okay.”
Joce stared at Kate but snarled at Carac. “If the witch fails…”
“I will end her myself.”
A little more violent than she preferred, but considering Kate would probably be dead if the witch failed… she was all for the threat.
“Are you sure?” His voice was no more than a whisper. “I do not want you to hate yourself when this is done.”
She didn’t want to hate herself either, but from what she knew, this was a save the world type of thing. She wasn’t a super hero, but she could bleed and if her blood happened to be like acid to others… All the better.
Kate nodded. “I’m sure.”
Joce lowered his head and caught her lips in a gentle kiss, one meant to imbue strength and convey an emotion too new to name. “I will be waiting. Return to me.”
“I will,” she whispered against his mouth and then stepped back until they no longer connected. She turned to Carac. “I’m ready.”
The elder vampire murmured a few words and then reached for the rusted handle. It turned easily despite its age and the hinges were silent as he swung it into the room. Kate shuffled forward, easing toward the portal and then stood beneath its arch.
“Come, dearl— dear.” The witch—golden haired, blue-eyed, slim and tall—beckoned Kate forward. “He is secure.”
Why did she feel like the sentence should have ended with for now?
She turned her attention to the other person in the room—the daeva. A midnight cloud swirled around him, twisting and twining between his legs. He was tied to a single chair in the center of the room, wrists and ankles secured by glowing shackles.
A flowing white light contrasted heavily against his dark skin. Writings shifted across his flesh. Evil restrained by the light of good? Or was the witch’s spell coincidentally white?
“Come.” That time it almost felt like an order—feeling like a demand from Carac—just as easily brushed aside.
But her parents hadn’t raised her to be rude, so she stepped into the room, careful not to touch the door jamb nor the door itself. As soon as she passed the solid hunk of wood, it slammed home and locked with an audible click and scrape. Funny how it’d been silent in the hallway and rough within the space.
That sound sent a spear of discomfort down her spine. As did the witch’s smile. “There, now, we shall not be dis
turbed.”
Unease tingled at the base of her spine and her attention bounced between the witch and the one who was obviously Jemshir. “I’m supposed to ask him questions.”
She’d memorized them. Who knew medical training actually helped her memory?
“Yes, yes,” the witch flicked her fingers. “Ask, ask.”
“For a witch in the protectors’ employ, you’re awfully pushy,” she grumbled. She wasn’t sure where the witch got her balls.
“Ask your questions,” the woman snapped and Kate eased closer to the half-god while keeping an eye on the other woman. Sure, the protectors might trust her to keep Jemshir captive, but she wasn’t positive the witch was a friend.
“Right.” Kate got as close to Jemshir as she dared. “This would go easier if you’d answer my questions. I really don’t want to hurt you.”
More than anything she didn’t want to hurt anyone.
Jemshir smiled widely, jagged teeth stained black. “And why should I, lovely? Why should I tell a vamp whore anything?”
“Who is the One?”
His smile remained in place.
“Where can we find him?”
It stayed put.
“Who’s working for him?”
The smile turned into a grin that was tainted with mischief. “Who isn’t?”
“I’m not. None of the protectors are. Most of the world isn’t.”
“Really?” He raised a single brow. “You’re not in here ready to torture me for answers? You don’t feel the One’s darkness creeping in on you? Or perhaps you will leave me untouched. Are you not still doing what he desires when you tell your mate you could do nothing?” Jemshir leaned forward. “He is the darkness and the light. He is the yes and the no, little fire.”
If he wouldn’t answer questions about the One, maybe he’d tell her about what he’d done to Liam. “What about Liam? What are the marks on his arms? What did you do to him?”
He licked his lips, ignoring her questions as his gaze slid over her body. “I bet you would taste delicious. I cannot wait for my bite of your flesh.”
“You won’t have her,” the witch interrupted. “That’s not part of the agreement.”
The tone tore her attention from the half-god back to the woman. Kate stared, searching out the familiarity in the witch’s features. The tone nudged a memory, the way she stood telling her even more. Her eyes allowed Kate to make the connection.
“Galla?” She took another step away from Jemshir, but also her grandmother. “It’s not… What…”
The moment Kate said the woman’s name, the glamour unfolded, slowly slipping away with every beat of her heart. The natural hair color returned, the witch’s skin paling until it resembled a vamp’s. Those blue eyes darkened to blood red. Not only was her grandmother in the room, she was hungry.
“Get over here,” Galla snarled.
It was then Kate realized other things in the room changed as well. The walls turned dark brown, stripes of black staining the surfaces, while the surrounding scents altered. Blood. Old blood. The dark patches and circles on the floor had to be from the room’s previous occupants. Which was reality? Bright white or stained darkness?
She wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter. Not when Jemshir brushed off the glowing ropes as if they didn’t exist and rose to his feet. That evil smile still in place, he took a step toward her. “You are a pretty, pretty treat, aren’t you?”
Kate swallowed hard. “I’m sure I’m bad for your health.”
The scent of fresh blood tickled her nose. Well, fairly fresh, and she spared a glance for the rest of the room. A woman lay crumpled in one corner, golden hair and closed eyes. The true witch.
“How did you do it, Galla? Why?”
“They took you from me. Me,” the vampiress hissed.
“Quit distracting my dessert, vampire,” Jemshir growled.
“Dessert? That’s my granddaughter. We had an agreement. I would free you and I would get Katherine.”
Her poor, delusional grandmother.
Jemshir snorted. “Keep believing that. Now, stay out of my way and you may make it out alive.” He spoke to Galla but his eyes were on her. “Come, pretty.”
Next time Carac could do his own dirty work. But I didn’t do this for Carac. Or at least, not only for Carac.
“Galla,” she glanced at her grandmother. “Did you kill the witch?”
“She was merely,” she waved her hand toward the downed woman, “a mortal.”
Like I used to be.
“So you’re killing people, helping destroy the world just so you get your favorite play toy back? Really?”
“You are not a toy!” Galla’s voice boomed through the small space.
As they spoke, Jemshir paused, staying near but not yet attempting to take her. Why?
“You are my grand—”
Jemshir moved in a cloud of smoke, a shot of darkness across the stone flooring from one side of the room to the other with hardly a blink. His wispy hand slipped into Galla’s chest, a thick line of evil piercing her in a single strike. Her grandmother gasped, gaze traveling to the arm embedded in her chest.
“You talk too much,” Jemshir grumbled and then tugged, pulling Galla’s blackened heart from her chest. “And now you shall not.”
Her grandmother’s eyes focused on her, those orbs wide and filled with fear. “Dearling…”
Kate had never seen a vamp turned to ash, the way that skin transitioned from pale as milk to a light gray. The way the change slunk up their legs, skimming over their flesh in a soothing ripple. Or how it enveloped a body within seconds of a vamp’s second death.
One soft puff of air from Jemshir had her grandmother’s body crumpling to the ground in a pile of ash, Galla’s heart the last to succumb to the ravages of her demise.
He brushed off his hands on his pants, wiping his palms clean of her grandmother’s essence. “Now that we’ve rid ourselves of the unpleasantness, let us move along to more pleasurable things.”
Let’s not.
When he reached for her, those evil tainted fingers extending as the darkness within him stretched for her, she realized she might not have a choice.
Chapter Sixteen
An ache consumed Joce’s heart, freezing the organ, stealing his breath. He clutched his chest and staggered, stumbling into the wall.
“Joce?”
“Dude!”
“What the—”
Voices surrounded him but he could only focus on breathing, on drawing air into his starved lungs and then releasing it before seeking more. Emotions filled him—his own yet not his own—and his mind spun as he crawled through them all. His vision dimmed, wavering and throwing his fellow protectors into the shadows as the sensation of dying overcame him.
“Joce.” Carac cut through the growing dark, his voice firm and unyielding. “Joce.”
The demand was there, but he wasn’t sure he could respond. Not when panic rushed into his veins, adrenaline forcing him to tremble with the restrained need to… flee? No, the need to fight. Fight and kill.
His fangs dropped, mouth watering with the craving for blood, the need for… vengeance?
“What’s going—” A hiss from Carac cut off the question.
His sovereign’s hands clutched his face and forced Joce to meet the elder’s gaze. “What do you see?”
“See?” He saw darkness. Dirt and grime. A dead body? The witch?
And midnight eyes, blackened teeth.
Carac shook him. “What do you see?”
It struck him then. The panic wasn’t his own. The fear, the need to run, the desperate need for blood. Not for sustenance, but for vengeance. “Kate’s in trouble. The witch is dead. Jemshir is free.” His fire’s gaze settled on a pile of gray powder. “Another vampire was in there. It’s ash.”
“Fuck.” Carac’s snarled curse surprised them all. The sovereign was their staid leader, the epi
tome of class and control.
Pain slammed into him, not emotional, but physical. Then there was blood. Blood flowing from his body as a split slowly appeared on his forearm. Then another. And another.
Four in total.
Their appearance told him the only thing he needed to know. “I need to go to her. He has her.”
Unacceptable.
Carac simply nodded, voicing no objection, and moved to the wood panel. He fisted his hand and then relaxed, fingers moving in a rhythmic wave before reaching for the door.
“Wait!” Everyone froze at Tory’s voice cutting through the air. “Don’t touch it.”
Another cut appeared, more pain blossoming across his chest.
The red-haired woman shoved her way through the protectors that lined the hall. She paused long enough to dig in Simond’s front pockets. She was fast, he had to admit that, and withdrew a pack of cigarettes and lighter before the male knew her intent.
“Victoria,” Liam growled, but she seemed to ignore her mate. She ran forward, fingers digging into the pack and tugging cigarettes free.
Five of them.
She stuck them all between her lips and flicked the lighter to life, drawing on them until smoke rose and the tips glowed red. “Four of you, let’s go.”
Joce didn’t question the woman, not when he knew how much knowledge filled her mind. Tory was a lot of things—annoying, brash, obstinate—but ignorant wasn’t in her repertoire.
Unfortunately, Carac was not the same. “What are you doing?”
“The witch,” Victoria handed Joce a cigarette, her red eyes meeting his. “Keep it alive.” Then she returned to her conversation with the sovereign. “She was worried that something would happen and you’d need to get access to her quickly. Well, if you can’t get someone with magic here to unravel the spell on short notice, you can get someone smart easy enough. I’m the smarts.” She handed another to Trewe and then Tybalt, the brothers always working together, before placing the fourth in Carac’s hand. The fifth remained hers. “Pretend we’re flying a fighter jet, right? Well, this little bit of mojo is the eject button.” Her gaze slipped over each of them. “Four corners on the count of three.”