She exited the store, her phone pressed to her ear, shopping bags in her other hand. The sidewalk wasn’t that crowded but she didn’t see Sam anywhere. Yeesh, the woman was fast for a pregnant lady in heels!
“Brandi? Brandi?” Reno’s voice sounded in her ear.
“Sorry. I’ve lost sight of Sam. I was only a few seconds behind her but…” She tried to pick up Sam’s scent but there was nothing. “Reno, there’s no trace of her.” She paused and glanced at the pedestrians walking by then dropped her voice to a whisper. “Her scent just…disappeared.”
Chapter 23
“It’s Dante, dammit. I know it is. He’s doused Sam in a scent mask so we can’t find her.” Damien ran his hands through his hair while Reno and Brandi formed a wall between him and the people who passed by on the sidewalk. They were outside the store where Sam had disappeared. He and Reno had rushed there as soon as Brandi had explained what had happened but, despite his best efforts, he’d found no clue as to where his mate had gone.
“Keep your voice down,” Reno warned. “Get in the car so we can discuss this without being overheard.”
Damien turned in a slow circle, staring up and down the street, peering into the small gap between the buildings. It hardly qualified as an alley but that must have been where Dante ambushed Sam. He didn’t want to leave, yet it made no sense to stand in the middle of the sidewalk. With a nod, he allowed himself to be led back to Reno’s rental car.
“Damien,” Brandi paused before climbing in the car. “I’m sorry. I feel this is my fault. If I hadn’t insisted we go shopping—”
“No. It could have happened anytime. Dante’s been in town for a few weeks. He’s probably been planning this all along, throwing us off by hanging around Gwyneth.”
“Maybe. Or maybe not. Let’s not jump to conclusions.” Reno pulled out his phone and punched in a number, a muscle in his jaw flexing. After a moment, he shook his head. “Dante’s not answering.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and then started the car. “I’m heading to Mystique. If Dante’s been hanging around Gwyneth, she might know something.”
Damien stared out the window, his eyes constantly searching for a sign of Sam. She wouldn’t willingly disappear. If there was any possible way to contact him, she would. Sam was alive out there somewhere, though. The mental connection they shared as a blood-bonded pair might be silent, but not like it had been when Beth died. That had left him gutted, as if someone had ripped his heart from his body leaving a soulless shell.
He clenched his jaw tightly and forced his thoughts down a different path; there was no way he could survive losing another mate. He had to believe Sam was alive, that she and the baby were safe. Fate wouldn’t be cruel enough to snatch happiness from his hands again, would it?
Gwyn paced the length of the club. There were too many things up in the air for her to settle. Matt was missing; her call to Rudy and then the local pack house had been pointless as neither had answered the phone. Her meeting with Dante was over. Cyrus had said he’d contact the other Coven members so there was nothing to do on that front. Short of going over her family grimoire for the umpteenth time, there was nothing more she could do to prepare for a confrontation against Camille.
She hated inaction. It went against her nature to twiddle her thumbs. And it didn’t help that her witchy senses were on alert as if something bad were about to happen. She circled the club once more and then went to her office. Perhaps she’d examine the grimoire Dante had found. At least it would give her something to do.
“Move over, Sherman.” Gwyn nudged the cat who was snoozing on her desk and was rewarded with disgruntled grumbling. “Go chase a mouse like you’re supposed to.”
He gave her a look of utter disbelief and launched himself into the air, defying the gravitational pull on his bulky form and landing on top of the filing cabinet. From his perch, he glared down at her, his tail twitching so she was in no doubt as to his mood.
Ignoring the temperamental beast, she unwrapped the grimoire Dante had given her and placed it on her desk. In the rare circumstances of a grimoire being found, it was the duty of council members to determine the importance of the book and make a recommendation as to a course of action. If the book was deemed worthy, it would be handed over to Cyrus who was in charge of the Coven’s archives.
The book was in rough shape, just as Dante had said. The cover was loose, the spine cracked and many of the pages were falling out or even missing. She examined the stubs that indicated some pages had been torn out. Some showed tinges of a soot-like substance, evidence of black magic oozing from the tainted spells. It was odd that the pages had been removed rather than sealed shut. All families had been notified that council members were available to perform the procedure.
She flipped to the front of the book and looked at the family crest. It wasn’t one she was immediately familiar with; the lineage had probably died out or become so diluted no one knew or cared about the sacred book.
“It’s a shame when a family disappears from existence, isn’t it, Sven?” She traced the heraldic dragon symbol. “Of course, once I’m gone my grimoire will go to Tina. And since she’s mated to that Lycan, Stone, the lineage could easily fade into non-existence.”
Sven made no comment, of course. A dead man might not argue but neither did he have much input into a conversation. He was all she had though and so she continued.
“I can always hope Tina’s offspring might be throwbacks. There are cases of certain genetic traits reappearing generations later.” She glanced down at Sven but he stared sightlessly across the room, the topic of no interest to him. Sighing, she began to work.
The clock ticked quietly in the background as she read the various spells. Most were standard stuff with minor variations to those in her own grimoire. She made a few notations on a notepad when something struck her as interesting and then moved on.
Halfway through the book, she sat up straight, her eyes locked on a page. There it was, the blood spell she’d used. And it was complete! A quivery feeling came over her; it had been so long since she’d seen the second half of the spell.
Her eyes scanned the words. Yes, as near as she could remember that was how the second half went. The last line in particular caught her attention. A heart restored but life will fade.
She frowned, considering the nuances of the line. “You know, Sven, not that I’m interested in love but if I ever was— Hey!”
Something had suddenly smacked her on the head. She spun around and saw the calendar on the ground and Sherman staring down at it from his perch on top of the filing cabinet. He must have been batting at the calendar where it hung on the wall and knocked it off. Muttering at the cat, she picked up the calendar and went to put it back in place only to stop and frown. Something was attached to the wall near where the calendar had been hanging. A small black device barely the size of her fingernail.
She pulled it off, noting double-sided tape had been used to adhere it. It wasn’t something she’d put there. She turned it over, examining it carefully before beginning to curse. It was a surveillance camera.
Who would have…? No, she didn’t even need to finish the question. It was Dante! It had to be him! He was the only person who could be responsible. He’d bugged her office the day he’d brought the picnic lunch, sending her to get water for the coffee while he hid this device. No wonder he’d been staring at the calendar!
“You fucking bastard!” Her temper flared as she considered how he’d deceived her. All his flattering words and soft kisses had meant nothing. To think she’d begun to ca—
She cut off the thought. No, she didn’t care about him and it was a damned good thing! He’d been playing her all along, just as Tomas had done. Of course, Tomas had wanted to get under her skirts. Dante’s motive was… Well, she had no idea what he was up to but she’d squeeze the information from him in the most painful way she could think of!
Pulling out her phone, she went to call him only to pau
se, her finger hovering over the screen. They’d never exchanged phone numbers. How had that happened? The pox-ridden cur had kept her in such a spin she’d never even realized all she knew about him was the hotel he was staying at! Muttering curses under her breath, she found the hotel’s number and asked to be connected to his room. The phone rang several times before she hung up in frustration.
Well, he wasn’t going to avoid her that easily!
Curses continued to spill from her as she bundled up the grimoire and tucked it under her arm. Then with the small device clenched in her fist, she began to make her way to the cellar. The napkin hadn’t been in anyone’s possession long enough to imprint on an owner but Dante must have had the bug tucked in his possession for several hours. With any luck, she’d be able to use it to find him. He’d regret the day he’d ever tried to spy on her!
She’d just stepped out of her office when there was a pounding on the club’s door and then it burst open admitting Damien Masterson, followed by two others. Shock quickly replaced by outrage had her already heated temper surging out of control. Magic erupted from her like shock waves, knocking over chairs and rattling the glasses on the shelves.
Oh, crap! She reeled it back in as quickly as possible but not before the unexpected visitors stumbled from the energy wave.
“Was that an earthquake?” A woman with a profusion of curly red hair looked about with wide eyes.
“No. A pissed off witch.” Rather than apologizing, Gwyn narrowed her eyes. It served them right, damned Lycans. “We’re closed.” Lips compressed in irritation, she scowled at them. Lycans were among the last people she wanted to talk to right now.
“I don’t give a fuck. Where is Dante?” Masterson stalked towards her, his voice little more than a growl.
The wolfish posturing didn’t scare her. She lifted her chin. “I’ve no idea, but get rid of the attitude before I do something about it.”
“Damien.” The redhead placed her hand on Masterson’s arm. “That’s not how you get someone to cooperate.”
He shook off her hand and the third Lycan stepped forward, rumbling a warning. He was vaguely familiar and Gwyn searched her memory until she placed him. Smith. They’d been in contact when Tina was missing. She shifted her gaze back to Masterson and the woman who was now speaking.
“Hello, I’m Brandi. I work as a Disaster Control agent for Lycan Link.”
“And I’m Reno Smith. We spoke last—”
“I remember. And you can stick the pleasantries where the sun doesn’t shine. Why are you here?”
“Dante has Sam.” Damien’s hands clenched into fists as he spoke. “He was following her and Brandi while they were out shopping. Sam left the store to talk to him and they both disappeared.”
“We know he’s been here to speak to you,” Brandi added. “He’s not answering his phone and we’re hoping you could help us track him down.”
“I was going to go looking for him myself.” She held out the small camera she’d found. “He bugged my office. Any idea why?”
Dante regained consciousness in degrees, first becoming aware of the scent of other shifters, then the sound of breathing. His head was throbbing, his face pressed to a hard, cold surface, something equally cold and hard at his back. He bit back a groan not wanting to let anyone know he was awake until he was sure where he was and what was going on. One thing was certain, this wasn’t his hotel room in Chicago.
He cracked open one eye, peering out through his lashes and noted he was on a concrete floor in a dimly lit space. It appeared there were bars, like a jail cell, surrounding him but no bed was within his view, only a bucket in the corner.
Damn, what had happened? He’d been walking down the street and had noticed Sam Harper a short distance ahead of him. On a whim, he’d stopped to watch her and then…
“Hey, Lycan.” A male voice spoke from nearby. “I know you’re awake.”
The voice wasn’t familiar but he tested the air again, placing the scent. Bendov. Maybe not completely a friend but definitely not a foe. Dante pushed himself up, allowing the groan to finally escape him. His vision swam before righting itself and he gave his surroundings a more thorough look.
Yeah, he was in a cell in a warehouse-like building and sitting in the corner was Bendov. Sam Harper was a few feet away, showing signs of also regaining consciousness.
“What’s going on?” Dante tested his limbs and found them to be uninjured.
“Some wacked witch has nabbed us.” Bendov grumbled the words. “What’s with you? You have no scent.”
“Scent mask,” he responded automatically checking if he had his phone. A wave of relief washed over him; obviously they hadn’t been searched. As much as it galled him, he’d call Smith and—
“No reception here, either we’re in a dead spot or there’s some kind of shielding.” Bendov shook his head. “I’ve tried more than once.”
“Probably a version of a Faraday cage.” He stashed his phone.
“A what?”
“A Faraday cage, named after the English scientist who invented it. It blocks electric fields.”
Bendov nodded. “Could be what he’s using. What’s your name?”
“Dante.”
“Ah. You’re that Lycan who was hanging around Gwyn.”
“Guilty as charged.” He began to assess the room for possible escape routes and makeshift weapons. At first glance, the prospects were grim.
Bendov gave him an assessing look. “I did a search on you. Couldn’t find a damned thing.”
“Good. That’s how I like to keep it.”
“I’m Matthias Bendov, by the way.”
“I know. You’re the bouncer at the club.” He switched his focus to the werebear. “What did you mean by a wacked witch?”
“The guy is completely delusional.” The werebear seemed to be trying to scrape away at the concrete blocks with a set of car keys, a small pile of dust accumulating near him on the floor. “He’s always talking about using our life force energy to power some spell that creates immortality.”
“Not delusional, unfortunately.” Dante stood, testing the strength of his legs and then made his way over to where Sam was now pushing herself up into a sitting position. “Here, let me help you.” He extended his hand.
“Back off, you bastard.” She pushed his hand away and stood swaying slightly, her chin jutted. “Why the fuck did you kidnap me?”
“I didn’t kidnap you. I was kidnapped with you while trying to prevent your kidnapping.”
“A likely story.” She flicked her hair from her eyes and then extended a hand towards the wall to steady herself.
“Believe me, if I were to kidnap you, the amenities would be much more comfortable.” Dante curled his lip as he eyed the slop bucket in the corner.
“Yeah, right. I recognize you, Esparza. Or is it Salazar this time?”
“He’s telling the truth, Sam.” Matt rose to his feet and the scowl on her face changed to a smile.
“Matt! You’re safe!” She took a step towards him and then stopped, obviously still feeling unsteady.
“Well, I don’t know if safe is the right word or not, but I’m alive if that’s what you mean.”
“Yeah, well, we were imagining the worst.” She put a hand to her head. “Was I drugged or—”
“A magic spell, pretty powerful since it took out both of us at once. Given your smaller stature it likely hit you harder than me.” Dante reached out to take her arm and then thought better of it. “You might want to sit down for a few minutes. A fall wouldn’t be good for the baby.”
She glared at him and he could tell she wasn’t happy with his suggestion but made a minor concession by leaning against the wall. Her gaze darted about the room much as his had, assessing the space.
He left her to do her own analysis and began to circle the space, testing the bars, the door, examining the lock.
“I’ve done all that.” Matt walked over to one of the sets of bars and pulled on
them. I even shifted into my bear form but the bars barely move.”
“Hmm.” Dante pulled a lock pick out of his pocket and crouched down to work the mechanism.
“You carry a lock pick with you?” Matt sounded impressed.
“Never know when one might come in handy,” Dante frowned. “Unfortunately, this lock seems impervious. I wonder if there’s a spell on it; Gwyneth had a handy one for undoing locks so the opposite might also be true.” He stood and stared around the room again.
Sam snorted. “Damien’s always claimed you were the ultimate criminal. Wait until I tell him you can’t even pick a lock.”
“It won’t be the first time I’ve disappointed him, I’m sure.” Dante sighed. “Escaping will require some ingenuity it seems. Bendov, you’ve been here a few days. Is there a schedule or pattern to when the malefic witch appears?”
“What the hell is a malefic witch?” Sam pushed away from the wall, looking steadier. “And give me the pick. I’ve bypassed more than a few locks in my day.”
Dante arched a brow but handed her the pick. “A malefic witch doesn’t accept the agreed values and mores of the collective coven. This one has turned to black magic searching for immortality, fuelling the spells by taking the life force energy of shifters, Fae and even humans.”
Sam frowned as she worked the lock. “What exactly do you mean by ‘taking’ their life force energy?”
“You don’t want to know.” Matt looked grim.
“I’m not some shrinking flower, Matt. Tell me.” She got up and slapped the pick into Dante’s outstretched hand while muttering a sullen acknowledgement that the lock wouldn’t open.
Dante put the pick away. “Taking a life force involves a ceremony with a ring of fire, a spell and then the heart of the victim is ripped out.”
“Oh.” Her face paled.
Matt nodded. “He has something big planned. There’s a black moon this month which increases the power of magic. He plans on using multiple victims and,” he paused and gave Sam an apologetic look, “he was quite pleased to have you. Being pregnant, you’re considered a prime source.”
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