by Isabel Wroth
“This is what my clan has done for centuries, and we’re very good.” Maksim didn’t sound pleased about it in the least.
“As closely as you were being watched, my brother would have done his research, spoken to other Summoners before agreeing to partner with Etienne, and I have no doubt he is aware that a personal item and a name are required to summon the witch who created the potion.
“One dose isn’t enough because one vampire with the power to walk in the light is vulnerable. Not just to his clan, but to all the other clans who will seek him out and destroy him. My brother needs you to get the book, and then he’ll do whatever it takes to gain your cooperation to summon the witch.”
“Or he’ll just kill me because summoning a dead witch isn’t nearly as difficult as putting a shattered vampire soul back together,” Kerrigan murmured hoarsely, starting to feel that lick of fear now. Not for herself, but for the people she had to lose. Her coven. Maks.
“Any Summoner with enough power can do it.”
“Yes,” Maksim agreed softly, and she didn’t see fear or anger in his eyes.
Kerrigan saw ice-cold calm. She realized she wasn’t looking at her lover now; she was looking at a man with seven hundred years of experience as a warrior. A warrior with a battle to fight.
“The one chance I have to keep you safe hinges on whether or not he knows you found me. If he has, I expect a full complement of Armistice’s finest to show up here to kill me and take you.”
Kerrigan snorted derisively, grinding her teeth in reaction to the very idea someone would come here and try to kill Maks.
“Ivy is the daughter of a forest god. No one crosses the boundary of the coven lands without an invitation. Ten thousand mercenaries could show up, and they’d be swallowed up by the vegetation. We’re safe here.”
Maks gave her a look that said, without being cruel, she was still being naive. “For how long, love? Armistice doesn’t just employ vampires. There are shifters, witches, humans, creatures that aren’t bound by the night who will sit and wait for you or one of your sisters to leave your protected lands, and whichever one of my brothers is holding the reins will do whatever he has to, to get you to leave and save her.”
He sighed heavily and drew her in to wrap his arms around her, pressing his fingers into her hair to tuck her cheek to his shoulder.
“There’s only one option left to ensure you and your coven are safe.”
“I will cut you if you’re about to suggest leaving me here while you go off and do something dumb and heroic.”
He chuckled darkly, pressing a kiss to the skin just behind her ear.
“I’m not leaving you. I’m not letting you out of my sight, and there will be consequences for it.”
“Consequences?”
Maksim rubbed his cheek against hers. “You may see a side of me that will frighten you. I will be cruel, I will lie, I will be cold and unfeeling, I will hurt others, perhaps even you with my words if it means ensuring you survive. There is nothing I will not do, nothing I will not say if it means protecting you.”
Kerrigan closed her eyes and snuggled in. “Do your worst, Maks. I’ll still love you. What’s our one option?”
He gave a ragged, emotion packed sigh. “I return home and reclaim my position as head of Armistice. If Austmathr truly wishes to assist you in collecting Cecilie’s soul, allow him to do so, and if you can, get her to tell you the location of the book and the potion before meeting with Etienne so I can destroy them.
“There will still be danger; my brothers will still seek to use you against me because you are my weakness, and in my world, there is no room for weaknesses. Are you… are you smiling?”
She sure as shit was. Kerrigan tilted her head back over his arm to show him how big she was smiling.
“If your brothers have been watching me, then they know what I’m capable of. Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m weak or vulnerable, Maks.
“Don’t take me back there, believing I’m powerless. Take me home to your people knowing I can and will be very practical when it comes to ensuring you and I both live long and happy lives together.”
Kerrigan sat perfectly still, giving her warrior mate the time he needed to see her smile was not one of happiness. It was the grin of a lioness on the hunt for her next meal.
After a few moments of prolonged silence, Maksim finally nodded. “I will not be so foolish as to discredit you, Kerrigan.”
“See that you don’t.” Kerrigan touched a quick kiss to his stern lips and let herself completely relax in his arms. “So, what’s the plan?”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Maks wandered around Kerrigan’s bedroom in the coven house while she packed, looking at the room she’d called her own for the last three years. She’d painted the walls and floor all the same dark gray but kept the ceiling white.
Her furniture was black and glossy, antiques she’d painted. Much of the fabric in the room was soft black velvet, the darkness of it broken up by a frothy green fern in the gold-painted fireplace.
“Could you pass me the red striped bag?” Following the point of her finger, Maks picked up the small pouch from her vanity, momentarily rooted to the spot as he caught sight of a familiar photo turned toward him.
Maksim stared at the image of him and Kerrigan, taken on the night of her eighteenth birthday, remembering that moment with startling clarity. He’d come close to kissing her.
If not for the photographer’s rude and untimely interruption, Maksim would have sliced his tongue across his fangs and cemented their bond right then and there.
No grand gestures, no declarations of his love and adoration, just an impulsive claiming in the lobby of the tiny opera house.
Despite Maksim’s initial anger, that photographer prevented Maksim from starting something he wouldn’t have been able to finish.
“Maks? Everything okay?”
He blinked at the soft question, remembering Kerrigan had asked for the little bag. He picked it up and passed it over, feeling things rattle and shift inside it.
“Yes, of course. What’s this?”
“Just make-up. Maybe a curse or two.” Maks grinned at her teasing tone, going to sit in the plush velvet chair by the fireplace while Kerrigan continued to pack. “Will I need anything formal?”
“Possibly, but I can take you shopping in the city. You really only need a few changes of clothes.”
She nodded as she rolled another sweater and stuck it in her bag. “It’ll make me feel good to have some of my own stuff. I won’t pack the whole closet, don’t worry. Did you find out everything you needed to know about which of your brothers is running the company?”
Maksim clicked his tongue and pressed his fingertips together, glancing out the window at the moonlit night.
“Unfortunately not. There’s general information about the company on the internet, but it’s little more than a brochure.
“When the Internet was invented and everyone seemed so keen on putting every piece of information about anyone and anything on it, I began hiring the best and the brightest in the field to ensure Armistice and all her secrets remained just that. A secret.
“After the whole system got more sophisticated, there really was no way to keep our business off the web, so the techs made it as secure as possible. Before, all I needed was a password; now, it seems to even access the main company webpage, a retinal scan is required. The growth in technology astounds me.”
The plan he’d made would have to change, but as of this moment, he wasn’t certain how to go about obtaining information on his brothers without giving them the upper hand. Maksim had a few contacts he could reach out to, but after twelve years of no communication, there could be no certainty they would honor previous arrangements and keep his secrets.
It galled him to admit it, but Kerrigan’s safety was more important than his pride.
“I will need one more day to consider how to safely move forward.”
She smiled at him without a hi
nt of recrimination, but whatever she’d intended to say was interrupted by a quick knock on her bedroom door.
“Come in!”
Rowena cracked the door and poked her head in with a smile. “Hey, I just came up to give you some stuff.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Kerrigan exclaimed but came around the bed to open the door wider for Rowena to come in.
Rowena shrugged and handed over a basket with an assortment of items and wiggled her fingers at it all. “It’s just a few things to keep you comfortable. The charm on your pillowcase is probably wearing out, and you never know if you’ll have need of some ribbons.”
Kerrigan set the basket of witchy treats aside to give her coven leader a hug.
“Thank you. I promise we’ll be back before Samhain.”
“Take your time and do what needs doing,” Rowena replied. “Don’t forget to pack your tools, just in case.”
Kerrigan nodded in agreement and skipped back into her enormous closet. As soon as Kerrigan disappeared from sight, Rowena went from smiling happily to giving him the look of a woman willing to strap on armor and wade fearlessly into battle.
She lowered her voice to a near whisper, but he’d have heard her even if she were across the room.
“If I don’t hear from you on a regular basis with updates that my sister is safe, I will be extremely displeased.”
The weight of menace behind the warning almost made him smile. It would be the wrong thing to do, of course, but the urge was there just the same.
“You will not like the consequences if I have to come down to the Armistice building to see for myself that she’s alright.”
In his life, Maksim had met many powerful women—some of them queens, some of them kitchen maids—but all of them had one thing in common: when they spoke, they made people listen.
It struck him as odd that so many of those powerful women—Rowena included—weren’t physically imposing. Tall and statuesque, the coven leader stood with her lovely curves outlined in a pair of petal pink high-waisted trousers and a white sweater with ruffles on the shoulders,
Rowena looked like a delicate feminine flower. Not any kind of force to be reckoned with, but he could see it in her eyes, and one didn’t possess that gleam of fearless courage without having done their fair share of battle.
“I understand,” Maksim murmured. “I will do everything in my power to assure no harm comes to Kerrigan.”
Rowena gave a sharp nod. “Good. Astrid says you need to call Reece and ask him about his brother-in-law.”
“What? Why?”
Rowena shrugged and tilted her head at Kerrigan. “She didn’t say, but Kerrigan has his number. This is my private number. Call.”
Maksim accepted the simple black and white card and tucked it into his pocket. “You have my word.”
“Have fun in the city, Kerrigan,” Rowena advised with a wink.
“I will. Thanks for the swag.”
“You’re most welcome,” Rowena replied with a smile, then left with a wave.
As soon as the door shut behind her, Maksim turned to give Kerrigan his full attention.
“Your fearless leader claims Astrid has given us instructions to call Reece and ask him about his brother-in-law.”
Kerrigan didn’t seem surprised or irritated by the lack of further information as she scooped up her phone, patting the bed beside her in an invitation to sit while it rang.
“County morgue; you stab’em, we slab’em!”
Maksim couldn’t stop himself from smiling, but Kerrigan rolled her eyes at Reece’s chipper and wholly inappropriate greeting. “Tell me about your brother-in-law, Reece.”
“Well, hello to you too, princess,” Reece answered.
“Hello, Reece,” Maksim replied.
“Hey, man! How’s it goin’?” Reece answered jovially. “You get topped up and back to normal?”
Kerrigan sighed in exasperation, but Maksim was happy to be cordial.
“I am indeed back to normal. How are things with you?”
“Oh, can’t complain, can’t complain. Just got back from a hunt with the pride, got a belly full of cow and suds on the way. Why’d you wanna know about Garth?”
Garth? Maksim mouthed, causing Kerrigan to smirk before addressing their leonine friend.
“Orders from Astrid. Do you mind?”
“Naw,” Reece drawled, the sound of a door opening and closing came clearly through the phone. “He hooked up with my sister about six years ago, nice guy. My sister has some baggage left over from time spent with our previous pride, and somehow she talked Garth into heading into the concrete jungle.
“He’s a big dude, almost as big as Uriah, and built like a brick shithouse with plenty of brawling experience. Made sense for him to get a job working for this security company called Armistice, which is just downright funny if you ask me.”
The confusion cleared from Kerrigan’s face in an instant while Maksim maintained a feeling of uncharacteristic surprise.
“What’s he do there?”
“No idea,” Reece slurped at something noisily. “We don’t talk much about his job whenever he brings my sister around to shift and run for the weekend.”
“You know anything about the people running it?” Kerrigan asked casually.
Reece chuckled easily. “You lookin’ for a new job, princess?”
“Never know,” Kerrigan replied.
“Well, according to Garth, the whole thing is owned and operated by this seriously old clan of vampires. He says the pay is great, benefits are even better, and when Kate pops out a few cubs, he’ll get paternity leave.”
“I’m interested in who is in charge of the company.” Maksim believed Reece did know; otherwise, Astrid wouldn’t have advised Kerrigan to call.
“Oh, I see. You’re the one looking for a job.” Reece’s leering grin was plain to hear. “I get it. Didn’t figure you’d be the type to enjoy having a sugar mama.”
Kerrigan gave an impatient hiss. “Reece, do you know who’s running the company or not?”
“Don’t know his name. Garth just calls him, The Prince. I guess he’s some British vamp with a stick up his ass and super anal about paperwork. Hey, uh, I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but can we hurry this up? I got a girl coming over in about three minutes—”
Maksim raised his hand when Kerrigan would have objected, not needing any further answers from Reece.
“Thank you for your assistance, Reece. Enjoy your woman.”
“Oh, man, I so will. She’s a wildcat. Later, princess.” Reece hung up, and Kerrigan shifted on the bed to get a better look at Maks’ expression.
“Well?” she asked. “I gather that meant something to you.”
Maksim inclined his head, feeling much better about taking Kerrigan into the city, and yet he was confused.
“Yes, love. It meant something. Let’s go for a walk.”
*****
“I came to America the summer of 1776 with three of my brothers.” Maksim turned his face into the wind, inhaling to catch the scent of a fox, silently running through the brush after a mouse. “Austmathr was long since dead, and Bronagh was intrigued by the conflict brewing. He thought it might be advantageous to get a foothold in the New World.
“I’d seen more than my share of wars by then, but the War for Independence was unlike anything I’d experienced. The American’s weren’t going to give up no matter what atrocities were visited upon them by the British.
“The Minutemen were impressive marksmen despite the fact that their weapons were grossly inaccurate. Do you have any idea the skill it takes to fire a lead ball from a gun that weighs ten pounds with a barrel forty-six inches in length and hit your target on purpose?”
Kerrigan shook her head, smiling up at him appreciatively.
“No. I’ve never actually handled a gun.”
Maksim lifted his free hand to mimic the rifle, sighting down his arm, remembering clearly the feel of polished wood a
nd steel in his hands, the acrid smell of gunpowder and the blinding flash of the flint striking the firing plate.
“It was incredible how quickly they recovered, able to load and fire three rounds per minute. An astronomical feat in that time; the damage a musket ball could do was truly devastating. One shot could blow a three-inch hole through a man.”
Maksim shook his head, able to so clearly picture a field full of corpses beneath a foggy haze of smoke from cannons and muskets, the smell of rotting flesh and dead men vivid enough that he had to lift Kerrigan’s hand to his mouth to inhale the smell of his soap on her skin to banish the stink.
“I was gathering information in Charleston when the British seized control of the city. They burned it to the ground, and as I made my escape, I came across a boy stumbling through the rubble. He couldn’t have been more than ten, clinging to the severed hand of a woman.
“He wasn’t the first displaced child of war I’d ever seen, and God knows he wouldn’t be the last, but there was something about him. We stared at one another for several moments, and not once did he flinch, even though the sound of gunfire could be heard from only one street over. I still don’t know what it is he saw, but he put down the severed hand he was clinging to and took mine instead.”
Maksim tucked Kerrigan’s hand into the crook of his elbow, opening his other hand to let his palm play through the last of the autumn weeds.
“I’d planned on finding him a home away from the fighting, but he refused to stay put. I’d leave him somewhere, and by the next night, I’d wake up to find him waiting for me. Couldn’t get rid of the bugger no matter what I did.
“My brothers thought he would make a tasty snack, and even after he realized what we were, he was determined to stay. He spoke the native language, and when I found him, someone had already taught him French and English.
“It came to light that he was the illegitimate child of a British woman and a native Indian, so people mistook him for a slave. He absorbed, remembered, and could report everything he read, saw, or heard with incredible accuracy.
“He could mimic anyone’s voice or accent, but when he was with us, he clung to his British accent. He was such an adaptable little brute; he could go into a house and pretend to scrub floors or run errands during the day for whoever I’d take an interest in, and when I woke at night, he’d have an entire report waiting for me. Thomas was nineteen when he contracted smallpox.”