by Michele Hauf
“Yeah, we’ll see,” the wolf muttered, still following.
Tor ran down the hallway and into the spell room, then stopped abruptly at the sight of the vampire holding Mel against his chest. Fangs glinting, the bastard gripped Mel tight about the neck. And when Hart joined him and hissed a curse, the vampire cracked a bloody grin.
* * *
“Keep your distance, mes amies,” the vampire said. “I want the heart. But if you’re not careful, I might have to rip out her carotid and use it to tie the two of you up to keep you out of my way.”
“Cocky—”
Tor caught Hart against the chest with an elbow when he felt the wolf try to rush forward. “Chill, man. Let’s have a conversation with the nice vampire, all right?”
“Another revenant,” Hart said.
Tor eyed the vampire keenly. The wolf was right. The vampire’s eyes were red—not like a demon’s, but as if a blood vessel had burst, almost obliterating the whites. He also...smelled. Tor could scent earth on him. As if he’d risen from a grave? That he could smell him, above and beyond the herbs and other scents in this room, was remarkable.
“First, I want to know how you were able to enter the witch’s home without a proper invite.”
Vamps could not cross a private threshold without an invite.
Mel cleared her throat. “Mortal realm rules are not relevant to a dead thing.”
The vampire tightened his clutch on her.
“And,” she continued, “my wards are down while I, umm...sealed the sacrifice.”
Tor winced. He wanted nothing more than to tear Mel away and decapitate the vampire, but he wasn’t a fool. And the vamp was closer to Mel than he was. For now.
“Is there a revenant tribe in Paris we don’t know about?” Tor asked.
The vampire tilted his head against Mel’s. For her part, Mel appeared calm, but Tor kept an eye on the vampire’s hand, wrapped under her chin. One quick slash of those long fingernails could end the witch’s life.
“I didn’t come to chat,” the vampire said. “And tribe business is private.”
Which confirmed the question about a tribe. Rook had been correct to make such a guess.
“So is the part where I slayed half your number the other day alongside an Order knight also a secret?” Tor volleyed.
The vampire hissed. “You were the one?”
Tor waggled the machete at his side, but not too boldly. The vampire held his girl.
“You won’t use that on me unless you also want her head rolling on the floor beside mine,” the vampire taunted. “I’ve been sent for the heart. Where is it?”
If the vamp knew it was a heart, he could have only learned it from another vamp in the know. And that could only have been the one Tor had let go the other night in the alley after he’d stolen Mel’s bag. His mistake.
Or was it? He eyed the vamp keenly. Did he have a chipped fang? He couldn’t determine in the candlelight.
Tor averted his gaze to the plastic container that sat on a shelf below the massive wood table on which Mel must have been practicing for tonight’s invocation. Beside it, a bouquet of dried roses barely hid the object. Did the vamp not sense how close it was?
Of course, there were so many witchy, magical artifacts and spell ingredients in this room. Even he would have had trouble pinpointing it had he not recognized that container. And then he had an idea...
“It’s...” Tor hiked a thumb over his shoulder. “In the kitchen.”
The vampire narrowed his brows at him.
“Hey, it’s a freakin’ heart,” Tor offered. He swiped a hand over his rain-slick hair, averting the water drops from his face. “You have to store that thing on ice. It’s a necessity.”
Mel’s eyes went wide and she nodded subtly.
“Have the wolf go get it,” the vamp said.
“No, I know where it is. You stay here, Hart. Keep an eye on the dead vampire. If he so much as jerks, you take him out.”
The vampire chuckled.
“You think I won’t sic my dog on you?” Tor challenged.
“Wait.” Hart splayed out his hands before him. “Let’s get this straight, human. I am not a dog. And most important, I am not your dog. I thought we covered this outside?”
“We did, but then that rude vampire interrupted and I had to decapitate him.” Tor waggled the machete.
“Right.” Hart folded his hands before him, and both men looked to the vampire and the captured witch. “He likes cutting off vamps’ heads.”
“Get! The fucking! Heart!” the vampire commanded.
“Guys!” Mel yelled. “Would you please give the creepy vampire what he wants?”
Tor smoothed a hand down his tie. It was difficult to move when he was being ordered by an idiot. Who was also dead. And who held a knife on his girl.
Yeah, she was his girl.
“Tor!” Mel insisted, startling him out of a growing smile. “Seriously. I don’t want to get bitten by a dead thing today.”
“Tor?” The vampire jerked her up closer against his body. “Are you the one I’ve heard so much about? The human who likes to spin the truth so the other humans think they’ve gone wacko? You were the one who fucked up the Monceau job.”
“The Monceau job?” Tor crossed his arms. He really didn’t like this guy. “Would that be the innocent human woman who was bitten in the park the other night?”
“She wasn’t innocent. She had been chosen by our leader to become our queen.”
Tor laughed and Hart joined him.
When the vampire dug in one of his sharp fingernails at Mel’s neck, drawing blood, Tor stopped. And when Hart kept laughing, Tor elbowed him in the ribs.
“What is it they say?” the vampire asked. “Do not suffer a witch to live?”
Hart growled.
Tor said, “You’ve hurt her. Now the heart will never be yours.”
“Yeah?” The vampire nodded backward toward the windows, which had darkened in the time they’d been inside. It was still raining, and a crack of lightning suddenly lit up the surrounding area.
And in that streak of lightning were illuminated the dozen faces that stood outside the windows looking in.
Revenant vampires.
Chapter 22
“Get the heart out of the kitchen,” Mel muttered from behind the vampire’s foul grip. The creature smelled, and she was pretty sure it was because he was dead. But if Tor was going to grandstand and waste time joking around with the strange werewolf, she was not having it. “Please, Tor!”
“I’ll keep an eye on him,” the werewolf said.
Where he had come from was beyond her, but she couldn’t worry about that right now. She’d already tried to zap the vamp with repulsive magic, but her nerves made that impossible. She should have recloaked the heart. Fortunately, the vampire couldn’t sense it so close because of the dried wild roses hanging overhead. They were a powerful block, and sometimes even repellent to vampires.
“Fine.” Tor took a step back, but made a show of taking in the windows.
A dozen sets of eyes, most with white irises, peered in, giving Mel the creeps. She could handle one vampire. Maybe. Probably not. Her nerves wouldn’t allow her to even whisper a repellent spell right now. But she felt safe with Tor and the werewolf close. But if the other vampires got inside? Tor had said he wasn’t a slayer. He was just the cleanup guy.
“Hurry,” she managed to say.
Tor nodded and slipped around the corner. A whistled tune echoed down the hallway and into the kitchen. How the man could sing at a time like this—then Mel realized it was his fuel. He was whistling a song she recognized: “Call Me Irresponsible,” about a man who realized he’d fallen in love.
Damn it, she was probably falling for him, too. Not even probably. She’d fallen hard for the guy who h
ad killer dimples and a soft heart for levitating frogs.
The revenant’s grip loosened a bit, and Mel could breathe more easily. She wouldn’t move though. She wasn’t stupid. But she was—curse her—curious.
“What are you going to do with the heart?” she asked. “Every dead thing in Paris has been after it. I don’t understand. What use will it serve you?”
“It gives life to the dead,” the vampire said. “Who wouldn’t want it?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, Monsieur Revenant, you have life. And you are dead. What difference is the witch’s heart going to make?”
“Don’t you understand? With the heart’s power, I will be alive, not dead. No longer a revenant.”
“Go for it,” the wolf encouraged. “That will make you easier to kill. Beheading unnecessary.” He crossed his arms high on his chest and kept his gaze to the windows. “Once you’re like all the other vamps? Just a stake will do.”
“He has a point,” Mel said, crimping her brow as she realized she was agreeing with a werewolf. A strange, wet werewolf she had never met before. “Don’t you like having the added failsafe your current status of undead provides?”
“Do you like me, witch?” The vampire nudged his nose against her ear. His hot breath wilted across her cheek. His scent resembled earth upon which mushrooms had spoiled and rotted into the ground.
“I generally do not like men who are mean to me, and who threaten to kill me,” she said. “So, my answer is no. And you smell.”
“Not my fault. Death does that to a man. Among other things, like being unable to get it up because some things are just...” He started a sigh but then caught himself as he again tightened his grip about Mel’s neck. “You see why I want the heart?”
“Got it!” Tor reentered, wielding a pink plastic container high. He gave it a shake and something inside sloshed around. In his other hand, he had not let go of the machete.
Mel couldn’t figure out what he might have put in the container. The real heart was under the table right now. She just hoped the vamp didn’t peek inside the decoy container before taking off.
“Give it to me,” the vampire commanded.
“Let her go first.” Tor held the container before him in a teasing waggle. “She gets to move to the other side of the table, away from you. Then I hand you the heart. That’s the only way it’s going to work.”
The vampire roughly shoved her away. Mel caught her forearms on the spell table, sweeping a spray of black salt to the floor. She quickly sidled around to the opposite side, but when she started toward Tor, the vampire hissed.
“Right there,” he commanded. “Until your boyfriend hands over the goods.”
Tor tossed the container, and while it was airborne, the vampires outside the windows clawed at the glass and made a hungry ruckus. Mel shivered. She couldn’t wait for this night to be over. And this was only the preshow.
The vampire caught the container, then made to open the cover.
“Uh!” Tor put up a finger. “That thing needs to be kept on ice, and you shouldn’t expose it to the volatile herbs and chemicals here in this witch’s spell room.”
The vampire gave the warning some thought.
“Hey.” Tor shrugged. “If you want to render the thing useless, by all means, open it and give it a look over. But the heart has been on ice ever since she obtained it.”
“Then how am I supposed to use it?” the vamp asked.
Mel looked to Tor for another fast retort, because she had nothing right now.
“That’s your problem, thief.”
The vampire snarled. The crew outside the window pushed against the windows, and the glass panes creaked.
“Keep it on ice,” Tor said as a means to quiet the possible invasion. “And to use it? Just being in its vicinity activates it.”
“So right now I’m growing more alive?” The vampire caressed the container greedily. “I can feel it.”
“I suppose. But it won’t last for long.” Tor winked at the werewolf.
Mel furrowed her brow. What were they up to?
“It’ll last as long as I keep it on ice,” the vampire decided. He turned and hefted the container over his head to show his minions.
Outside, cheers rose.
And Mel could only be thankful the neighbors were away on holiday.
“I’ll be going, then. I do thank you.” The vampire bowed and exited out the back door into the yard.
“Stay right here. Put up a protection ward,” Tor ordered Mel.
“Where are you going?”
He brandished the machete boldly before him. “Can you use vampire ash for your spellwork?”
“Always.”
“Then Hart and I are going to harvest a batch for you.”
The werewolf bumped fists with Tor, and the men headed out the back door.
And with the first vampire’s yowl, Mel winced, but then she smiled. With a few spoken wards, she put up a screen of protection around the house and extended it as far into the yard as she could. And then she dipped to look under the table. Hecate’s heart was still there, safe, nestled amidst the wild roses and...soon to prove much more harrowing than this experience had been.
She whispered a cloaking spell using her newly acquired dark magic. A shivering hug enveloped her body and she gasped. Dark magic was now hers.
And that made her more fearful than ever.
* * *
Tor thanked Hart for his assistance as the werewolf kicked a pile of soggy vampire ash on his way out of the backyard. But Hart paused and turned to count the piles.
“What?” Tor asked.
“I have a suspicion we missed him.”
“Who?”
“The head vamp. The one who had your woman in his clutches. There’s a dozen piles. We got all the minions, but I don’t recall beheading the bastard who stole the heart. Did you?”
“No. Bollocks.”
“And where is the heart?”
“It wasn’t the real thing. I put a chunk of watermelon inside a plastic box. Figured it would provide the weight and size of a heart. But you’re right. I don’t see the container anywhere.”
“He’s still out there.”
“Yes, but hardly dangerous. I’m not sure how deadly a vampire and his box of watermelon will prove.”
The werewolf snickered, but then winced. “Still.”
“Right.” Tor glanced to the patio doors. Mel had been shaken by the vampire. He needed to go to her.
“I’ll sniff him out,” Hart said. “You take care of your woman. You said this would be over soon?”
“If all goes as planned, midnight will end it.”
Hart checked his watch. “Got a few hours to go. There’s a lunar eclipse tonight. Blood moon.”
“I know. Not like it couldn’t have been performed at high noon. You know how witchcraft works.”
The werewolf visibly shuddered. “I’d better set to the trail, and check on my sweetie. See you later, man.”
“Great to know you, Hart!” Tor called as the wolf left the property.
He had no worries that the man would not track down the rogue vampire. So he strode up to the house and tried to open the patio door—but was forcefully repulsed. His body landed in the wet grass just off the patio. A sludge of vampire ash oozed near his head.
Tor could do nothing but chuckle. “Good going, witch.” Her wards were back up.
From inside the living room, Mel shouted, then opened the door. “I’m so sorry! Just wait.” She drew a sigil in the air and recited two words. Tor felt the air noticeably change. In fact, his whole body relaxed on the ground.
He’d better enjoy it while he had this opportunity.
“Oh, my. That’s a lot of vampire ash. That’ll keep the Jones family in stock for a long time. Even
wet, it will prove useful.”
“That werewolf has some masterful claws. Hell of a lot easier than my machete to remove a vamp’s head. He’s a good guy.”
“Where did he come from?” Mel stepped out and offered him a hand to help him stand. She brushed off some ash smudges from his vest and shirtsleeves. “I don’t know the guy.”
“He used to live in the neighborhood and was attracted to the heart. We talked it out. He’s on our side. It’s been quite the day, hasn’t it? I’ll be glad when tonight is over. What time is it?”
“Eight.”
“When do you want to head to the crossroads? Is it far?”
“It’s about an hour out from the city. We should leave a little after ten. I suppose you’ll want to change your uniform.”
He shrugged. “I’ll dry off.”
He kissed her then, and it didn’t matter that he was covered in ash from revenant vampires or that he’d pulled a muscle in his thigh and it ached with every step. Or that he was even more determined to walk away from this lifestyle. Mel was in his arms. And that made everything better. The world in all its wrongness slipped away. He could hold her always.
“You taste like ash,” she said, and then laughed. “But you also taste like Tor.” She wrapped her arms about his chest and hugged him fiercely. “Thank you for everything. I need you to know that before tonight’s spell.”
“Why? Do you expect something to go wrong?”
“No. Maybe? I don’t know. You know how my magic seems to have a mind of its own.”
“It’ll be good. I know it will. This is something you are determined and focused on. Nothing will go wrong. And I’ll be there in case something does.”
“And what about after?”
“After?”
“You’re heading off to your normal life, right?”
“Uh, right.”
She shook her head. “I understand that. I’d like to change your mind, but I am the last person to want to change another’s mind. In proof, I, uh...made this for you.” She slipped her hand in her skirt pocket and pulled out a vial. Without handing it to him, she instead slid it into his shirt pocket and gave it a gentle pat.