by Frey Ortega
Bennett chuckled. “That’s cute. Maybe later, when we sit down on a bench or something?”
“Sounds lovely. I’ll hold you to it.”
The park was quiet, with not a single person in sight. It was a lovely night for a date, and it afforded Bennett and Elijah the privacy they needed to really get to know one another.
They walked through the park at a leisurely pace, talking about nothing and everything at the same time—similar to the conversations through the phone they had almost every night. They started off with something mundane, and end up talking about deeper things.
“So, is being the manager of Pastiche your dream?” Bennett asked, as they strolled slowly down by the side of the pond in the park. “Or did you have some other fancy, romantic dream for yourself?”
“Honestly? No. Being the manager of a nightclub wasn’t exactly something I ever dreamed of becoming. Talking to people was just something I found I was quite good at.” Elijah turned to look at Bennett. “When I was younger, I wanted to be a boxer.”
Bennett blinked. “A boxer?” He repeated.
“Yeah,” Elijah replied, nodding. “Silly, isn’t it? It’s a bit of a romantic dream, I think. I always wanted to be in the middle of the ring, sparring. I’m not quite as big as Vadim or Julien, so I was always a little bit insecure about that.”
Bennett shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think you’d be perfect for it. You’re quick and strong, and you have a good body.”
Elijah grinned playfully. “Oh, I do, do I?”
The young warlock’s face turned bright pink. “You already know that, though.”
“I do.” Elijah nodded, although he stood a little straighter and even gently nudged his shoulder against Bennett. “It’s still nice hearing it from you, though.”
The smile on Bennett’s face grew wider.
“What about you? What was your dream when you were younger?” Elijah asked.
Bennett shrugged. “I never really thought about it much,” he admitted. “But I thought it’d be nice to be a scientist, or a professor at a university. It’s why I liked the parts of magic that involve studying.”
Elijah barked in laughter. “I don’t know why, but I can totally see that for you. You like to be surrounded by books and tomes and such.”
“You’re right,” Bennett said, nodding. “I’m safe and happy when surrounded by books, or screens. Maybe more so now than ever before.”
Elijah looked down at his little mate, and although he was still smiling, he felt a slight pain in his chest at the way Bennett’s eyes turned away, and there was a far-off look in the young warlock’s eyes.
There was a world of hurt and pain still lingering underneath the surface. Bennett held on to the wounds of his past—and Elijah couldn’t blame him. After being used by Marcel for as long as Bennett did, it was any wonder that the warlock was as well-adjusted as he was. Bennett was stronger than he seemed.
Thinking about Marcel still made Elijah frown. His pale, but jaundiced skin, and the crazed manner in which he moved reminded Elijah of a corpse—a shadow of the man Marcel once was, perhaps. After all, he had become like a cornered animal after being hunted for so long by the coven.
And throughout all that, Bennett was by his side, suffering from Marcel’s mania and his ego.
The pain in Elijah’s chest grew even stronger, and he had to take a deep breath to let it loose.
Bennett turned up to look at him.
“What’s wrong?” Bennett asked.
Elijah shook his head. “Nothing,” he replied. He looked down into those soft, grayish blue eyes and smiled. “I was just thinking about how lucky I was to have this date with you.”
A soft pink hue suddenly appeared on Bennett’s cheeks, and bashfully, the young warlock turned away. “If anything, I’m the lucky one,” Bennett muttered underneath his breath. “I’m your mate. Fate brought us together…but she could have given you anyone else in the world.”
“Well, I don’t want anyone else in the world,” Elijah said. “There’s only you. There must be a reason why it’s you and me, Bennett.”
Bennett tilted his head. “Will you tell me the reason?”
Elijah shrugged. “When I figure it out, yeah. May I ask you a question?”
“Of course,” Bennett replied.
“How exactly did Marcel get his hands on someone like you?”
Bennett looked up at Elijah. “The same way most lovestruck young people get swept up in things beyond their control. He made me think he was someone else, and slowly he began to change. By the time I realized it, it had been too late.”
“Wow,” Elijah whispered. “I’m sorry for asking.”
Bennett shook his head. “I spared you the details. But it’s okay. I’m alright with you knowing.”
Elijah offered the smallest of smiles. It was some form of trust—a step in the right direction, for sure.
As they walked on, Bennett laced his fingers with Elijah’s and walked hand-in-hand with him. They shared a look. Bennett actually turned pink. Elijah grinned like a maniac, or so he felt. His cheeks had started to hurt. Like, actually, physically hurt—from all the smiling he’d been doing. It was actually enough that he’d noticed, and he even placed a hand absently on his face every so often, when Bennett wasn’t looking.
Yep. The smile’s real.
Elijah still couldn’t believe it.
In the corner of Elijah’s eyes, however, he saw something move. It was in the light rustle of the leaves in the shrubs and the trees, or the subtle ripple in the otherwise still pond.
Someone was watching them…and they were poised to strike.
That gut feeling inside of Elijah just got stronger. He couldn’t control when it happened, it was like a sense of cunning, or precognition. It always told him, deep in his gut, when shit was about to hit the fan. It happened the night Marcel attacked Eos at his apartment, and it was happening now—that unease in his stomach that threatened to overtake his senses.
Maybe the park being so secluded wasn’t such a good thing, after all.
It felt like time slowed down as all of Elijah’s senses heightened. Fractions of a millisecond felt like they stretched on, and he could feel every little vibration in the air around him. Suddenly, there was the soft, almost imperceptibly silent sound of a gun being shot from somewhere on Bennett’s side—the slightest surge of temperature in the air as the heat of a bullet being launched from its chamber and a crackle of energy in the air that was unmistakable in its purpose.
There was a split second when Elijah knew he had to act. It was all the time he needed. Elijah immediately grabbed onto Bennett, pulling him close until his arms wrapped like a protective cocoon around his mate. Time suddenly sped up to normal again, and Elijah ducked down, pulling Bennett with him. He felt the whiz of a bullet flying over his head. And then another—and one more.
Whoever had shot them really wanted them dead, or so it seemed to Elijah.
If they had been closer, Elijah was sure that bullet would have hit him, and maybe even Bennett. He didn’t know how he knew, he just…knew. It had always been that way. He was thankful for this gift of cunning at this moment, if only to protect his mate.
Elijah looked down at the warlock, wrinkling his brow as he clung tightly onto Bennett, pulling him as close as possible against his body. Every cell, every atom inside of Elijah’s body screamed at him to protect the man beside him. “Are you okay?”
Those soft pale eyes were wide in shock. “What was that?”
Elijah frowned, and looked up. “I don’t know.” He turned to look at where the bullets came from, and saw only a soft rustling in the trees.
“We should get out of here,” Bennett said. “I could teleport us. I just need a moment, and I’ll—”
“That won’t be necessary,” a voice called out, closer than Elijah thought comfortable. “I require your knowledge for something, and compliance is mandatory.”
A man in an impeccab
le black suit stood across the pond from them with a dispassionate look on his face. A vampire, Elijah immediately thought, judging by the feeling he got as he looked at this stranger. There was a glint of danger in that downright stony visage—a face that somehow looked familiar to Elijah—and that immediately sent warning signals through Elijah’s brain. The man moved as though he were a mirage slowly coming in and out of focus, closer and closer to the both of them, until he stood on the same side of the pond as them, holding onto a pistol whose barrel was smoking and the silencer clear as day.
“It’s not often that I meet someone who can easily dodge my bullets,” the man said. “That’s an impressive ability you have. The way you maneuvered past a shot like that without a scratch made you seem catlike in your grace.”
Elijah scoffed. “Complimenting me right after shooting my mate? This hot-and-cold thing isn’t working for me.”
“Believe me when I tell you that I take no pleasure in what I’m about to do. I just take comfort in the fact that it is what’s necessary,” the stranger said grimly.
Bennett shivered, and Elijah only clung to the young warlock even more firmly in response. Already, Elijah was thinking of possible routes of escape. Maybe that teleportation spell could work. Elijah could at least buy Bennett some time to get out of the park.
“You are Bennett Landry,” the man said matter-of-factly, snapping Elijah out of his thoughts. The man also lowered his gun as he approached them. “An associate of Marcel Dubois. Tell me where he is.”
Elijah felt a simmering anger in his chest at the idea of Bennett being Marcel’s “associate.” Marcel scarred Bennett, and broke him in ways that Elijah could only imagine. It’s not like Bennett had been very forthcoming about his time with the maniac. He had been a captive, not a companion.
But he didn’t want to pick a fight. Not right now, not when he was holding his mate close, and his heart thundered in his chest. All he wanted to do was to keep Bennett safe.
“Marcel?” Elijah raised a single eyebrow. “He’s dead. Just like we would have been two seconds ago.”
The man shook his head. “If I wanted you dead, you would be dead. I needed to catch your attention.”
“What matter would be grave enough that it warranted either of our deaths?” Elijah shot back.
“I didn’t want you dead,” the stranger said, glancing at Elijah, but then he gestured to Bennett with the pistol he held in one of his hands. “It was he that needed to be dealt with, for the sake of the other witches who live in this city.”
Bennett turned to look at the man, and his body tensed, turning rigid as he grasped tighter onto Elijah. Bennett even started to shake, just a little bit.
“Marcel,” Bennett whispered, his breath shaky.
Elijah looked down at his mate. “What?” He looked back up at the stranger.
The man was expressionless—his lips set into a frown and his icy blue eyes almost looked dead in the way he stared at the both of them.
“Marcel,” Bennett repeated. He clung tighter onto Elijah’s chest, pressing his body close against the larger man. Bennett went rigid right against Elijah’s form, shaking and breathing harsher and harder than he had just moments ago. “That’s definitely him. How can he be alive? I saw him—oh, God, I can’t breathe. I…”
Elijah looked down at his mate, and an overwhelming desire to keep him safe filled his body.
“O-Oh God. I have to go,” Bennett said. “I can feel it. I can feel the magic. I can’t stop it.”
Elijah frowned. “Bennett?”
He rubbed slow circles on Bennett’s back to try to calm his mate down, leaning in closer to wrap his arms around the warlock. Bennett wrapped his arms tighter around Elijah’s chest, and Elijah hissed as a sharp pain settled against the skin of his back. The sound of sizzling filled the air for a moment as he felt something white hot over his back, right where Bennett’s hands were. He knew his skin wasn’t burning, but the sensation of fire began to course through his veins.
Was that Bennett’s magic doing that right now?
“Calm down, love,” Elijah whispered softly. “I think your magic is going haywire.”
Bennett took a deep breath. “I know,” he answered. “It happens sometimes.”
Elijah wrapped his arms tighter around Bennett, trying to calm the smaller man down. He could hear the thundering heartbeat inside of Bennett’s chest. With every breath that Bennett took, however, it seemed as though the warlock’s heartbeat began to slowly go back to normal. The feeling of searing heat at Elijah’s back waned, too, and Elijah couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.
“I’m sorry,” Bennett whispered.
“For what?” Elijah asked.
“I was hurting you.”
Elijah shook his head. “It’s okay. It didn’t really hurt that much,” he lied, and he knew from the look on Bennett’s face that he hadn’t convinced the smaller man. Still, he brushed it off. “Are you alright now?”
Bennett nodded.
“Good,” Elijah said. “Let me deal with this guy, okay?”
Bennett nodded again.
Elijah then turned to face the man before them, who was still pointing his gun at the both of them. “Marcel is dead.”
The stranger’s eyebrows lifted, and the grim expression on his face darkened into a deeper frown. The raised gun quavered for just the briefest of moments, but it was enough for Elijah to notice. “Marcel is dead?” the man repeated. “Are you certain?”
“As certain as I’ll ever be,” Elijah answered. “Considering he burned to a crisp in front of my very eyes, I’m pretty sure he’s dead. But now we have a problem on our hands—here you stand, shooting at a defenseless warlock, who so happens to be my mate. The mate of a vampire from the Blanchard coven, as a matter of fact.”
The stranger shook his head as he lowered his gun fully. “It seems I have made a grave error in judgment, then. I knew of Bennett Landry as the warlock forced into servitude by my brother.”
The stranger continued. “I apologize. I had thought that a quick death would have been preferable.”
Elijah raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m not sure shooting first and asking questions later is the way to go when you could easily be killing an innocent. But that’s beside the point—did you say that Marcel was your brother?”
Now that he wasn’t under the threat of gunfire, and the stranger who claimed to be Marcel’s brother placed his gun back in its hidden holster, Elijah could see the similarities between the two. Marcel had become crazed, and a ghoulish version of who he once was, but the man before him bore a striking, almost identical resemblance to the Marcel who wasn’t being hunted down like a crazed animal.
Hair as dark as obsidian and eyes the color of an icy blue, all set on a jawline that could cut glass—hell, even Elijah had to admit that the stranger before him was handsome—and perhaps vaguely reminiscent of one of those depictions of fallen angels. It was one of the reasons why Marcel got away with half of the shit he pulled. A disarming smile and looks that could rival a god’s could get you anywhere in life. Well, until he changed, anyway.
Until he turned into a monster.
Bennett twitched under Elijah’s embrace, and slowly, reluctantly, turned to look at the man. “You’re Marcel’s brother?”
The man nodded. “My name is Holden Devereaux,” he said, bowing his head.
“Devereaux?” Elijah asked.
“My mother’s maiden name,” Holden replied. “I had to change names after Marcel decided to run ours through the mud. Either way, I apologize for the attempt at your life. I honestly thought you were still serving my brother.”
Bennett shook his head as he slowly disentangled himself from Elijah’s arms, to stand beside him. “No, I understand,” he said softly. “I did…things. Spells for Marcel that would put a huge target on my head. Hell, on anyone’s head. Frankly, I’m surprised it’s taken this long.”
Elijah looked down at his mate. “You did those
things while being coerced, though.”
Bennett quickly glanced up at him but then turned away just as fast, the expression on his face turning grim. Again, he shook his head. “I might have been forced, but I still did them. I resisted at first, but then I just thought it was easier for him to have his way.”
Elijah couldn’t help but grit his teeth at the thought. He clenched his fist, feeling his body begin to tense and heat flushing through him. He had to take a deep breath, and exhale the anger flowing through him.
Ultimately, he understood what Bennett meant. The young warlock may have been forced to do things he didn’t want to do, but there were still consequences to those actions. Some people wouldn’t see the circumstances surrounding Bennett and why he did what he did, but many of them wouldn’t really care, either.
Holden offered only an equally grim expression of his own once more, his frown more severe than earlier. “The reason why I thought that a quick, painless death would have been preferable is that I know what kind of a monster my brother is—was.”
Elijah looked down at his mate, whose eyes were glazed and had a far-off look to them.
“Yeah,” Bennett said, his voice as distant as his gaze.
“That’s not the only reason I thought it was preferable, however,” Holden said. “You, and the people around you are in grave danger.”
Bennett snapped back into focus after that, and Elijah sighed. “We’re vampires. We’re warlocks. We’re all a part of this supernatural underworld. When are we not in danger?”
Holden nodded. “True enough. But I thought it best to tell you that something far worse than Marcel is coming.”
Elijah tilted his head. “And what would that be?”
Holden’s response was simple, but even Elijah shivered at the thought.
“Hunters.”
Well, shit. I guess I’m not going to be handling that project for Julien after all.
Chapter Nine
“Hunters.”
As soon as Holden Devereaux—Marcel’s brother, a fact that still shocked Bennett—uttered those words, the response was immediate. Elijah had started making calls, and he even asked Bennett to prepare a teleportation spell for the three of them to get back into the Blanchard building.