by Nikki Sex
I recall my first out-of-body experience with my demon. He’d abruptly decided to make Owen happy by curing his sister of Down Syndrome. That makes their connection much stronger and more intimate.
“Time to shift, Owen,” his Alpha commands.
The young shifter quickly strips, impressing Paradox by changing to wolf nearly instantaneously.
We hop into our SUV, roll down the windows. I’m glad I’m wearing a ski jacket as the cold winter air blows in. Like a big family dog, the werewolf thrusts his nose outside. Regularly sniffing, he mentally communicates with his Alpha, telling him what direction to drive.
Little by little, we make our way. Sometimes we circle, returning to pick up the trace. From time to time, Owen gets out of the car. Our progress is slow, but steady. How Owen can follow her hours-old scent, when his prey left in a car, is a complete mystery to me.
A tracker, I am not.
It’s not too long before we’re at the Tsawwassen Ferry Terminal. The next trip to Swartz Bay, Vancouver Island, leaves shortly. At twenty knots, the scenic trip takes about an hour and a half. Even wolf eyes won’t see much after dark, but the ocean scents are invigorating.
The “Queen of New Westminster” is docked and already boarding passengers, trucks, buses, and cars. Over 6,000 tons, the vessel is six decks high, with elevators, cafes, lounges, gift shops, entertainment areas, and so on.
We get in line, eventually drive our SUV on board the ferry. Owen changes back from wolf to man as we park. We all hop out, going our separate ways. Owen, Paradox, and Chaos search for food, while Leonidas, Stafford, and I make our way up to the forward deck.
Within minutes, after stopping at a café, Owen arrives with pizza for his Alpha, and me. He’s lost Taboo’s scent, but he’ll pick it up again when we reach the shore.
Taboo’s guard was bespelled, so whatever’s going on is the result of enchantment. Her kidnappers aren’t human. I bet she’ll be found near the Vortex—paranormal creatures are drawn to power.
I can’t help but fear we’re foolishly taking the bait. Like mice to cheese, we’re walking into a trap.
Leonidas flashes ahead to check out a few things. He’ll also look in on Millicent, John, and Hope. The other vampires vanish, seeking their own meal. Most likely, a couple healthy women on board will be getting mind-blowing orgasms and memory wipes—or maybe not. Vampires are seductive. Paradox is a hottie, and the big Viking lug with him has nothing to be ashamed of, either.
“You think sorcerers are behind this?” I send to Stafford as the ferry’s engines fire up. Propellers whitewash the water, and we’re on our way.
Stafford’s mouth is full of pepperoni pizza. “That’s the most logical explanation, except for rogue vampires.”
“Hmm.” I reply, swallowing a big, cheesy bite.
The problem with the supernatural world is it often reflects the human world. Humans tend to group themselves according to whether they share genes, worldviews, nationality, religion, politics, color, sex, economic class and so on.
People fear differences. Putting individuals into the “allies” or “adversaries” box has been going on since the first caveman bashed in another caveman’s skull.
In our world, “Them” or “Us” is segregated into vampires, shifters, sorcerers, witches, and demons. The “Us” category results in comfort, trust, and cooperation. The “Them” box is all too often used to justify killing.
As far as I can tell, every group distrusts or even hates the others—except the Beast Lord successfully united all sub-groups of shifters, a major achievement on his part. Every species has a shared attitude toward demons. They happily unite to hunt and destroy them.
Our current cooperative of werewolves and vampires, Taboo’s captors couldn’t imagine, much less expect. Who would be stupid enough to dangle Taboo out to attract not one, but two dangerous groups of predators?
No one in this world, surely.
In Faery? Well, there’s my dad, of course. Lucky for us, here we’re protected from the fae. Thanks to centuries old wards, they can’t survive on Earth.
Yet someone’s set out to lure the Master of Vancouver into a trap. I’m pondering who would make such a foolish mistake, when Leonidas flashes to us.
“Jan.” The word is a sound of anguished despair.
I rush to him, take his arm. “Jesus, Leonidas! What’s wrong?”
“Millicent—she escaped her chain. Hope, John, and even Toby have disappeared. I cannot sense her or John! I tracked them. They were together for a few miles, then their scent vanished. I have searched, but I cannot find them.”
“But they’re alive and together?”
“I do not feel them.” The expression on my vampire’s face shocks me. I’ve never seen him look so empty and upset.
I squeeze his arm, knowing there’s more. “What? What is it?”
“Millicent fed on John and Hope.” He pauses, chokes out the next words, “There was so much blood! The scent of their blood was everywhere.”
Chapter 48.
I whirl around on my heel, grab Stafford by his shoulders. I’m not sure if this certainty comes from me or my inner wolf, but we’re positive our Alpha can fix this. Finding our friends will be easy for him. He’s the Beast Lord, he can do anything.
“Do you sense Hope?” I ask, my heart pounding with worry.
“No.”
“Why not?”
His jaw tightens. “I’m sorry. Some form of enchantment has severed Hope’s pack bond. Either that,” he hesitates, his dark eyes soften with sympathy, “either that, or she’s dead.”
“Hope’s not dead! She can’t be.”
Stafford takes my hand, draws me in. He folds me into his arms, providing warmth and comfort, allowing me time to regroup after hearing such devastating news.
My mind races with questions. Why would Millicent feed on John after refusing to feed on him previously? Where would they go? Like Taboo, have Hope and John been kidnapped? And what about Toby? My dog’s too smart to be snatched.
If other paranormals are involved, anything could happen.
I pull away, meet Leonidas’s brilliant blue gaze. “Maybe I can locate Toby the way he always finds me. Or perhaps my, um, inner friend can sense Hope. Let’s go to your place. Take me there.”
The problem with a crisis like this is the secrets I must keep while under pressure. Paradox and Chaos can never know about Millicent, because a Jugulo isn’t allowed to sire and raise a child. No one can know about my demon, either, but that’s an everyday issue.
Leonidas focuses on Stafford, silently seeking consent. The Jugulo’s endless deference toward my mate makes me smile. When the Beast Lord nods his approval, my vampire wraps an arm around my waist. In a flash of blue and white, we dematerialize—
Time stops.
Mind and body, I’m freed from my corporeal form. Soundless, sightless, boneless, we travel through the unfilled spaces between all things—and arrive in the meadow outside his home.
Mmm. I love the void.
I appreciate how my vampire handles my sometimes-sensitive relationship with Stafford. The Beast Lord doesn’t operate well as Beta to anyone, he needs to be in charge. I enjoy control, but unless a total douche is running the show, I can take it or leave it. My Pack Alpha mate isn’t as easy going.
Mr. Bossy-Pants is who he is.
Lucky for me, I love who he is.
Besides, it’s hot when Stafford takes charge.
We arrive just outside Millicent’s cabin near Leonidas’s fortress. I explain the situation to my demon and ask for his help. He’s pleased to assist, although I suspect he gets a thrill out of stalking. It’s predatory—a demon thing.
Picking up Millicent’s broken chain, I follow the links to the fractured end of it. “I thought vampires couldn’t escape from a silver chain.”
“They cannot.”
“Huh. OK.”
Senses heightened, on high-alert, I gingerly step over his thoroughly trash
ed front door. Leonidas and I slowly move down the hall, then enter his kitchen. It appears to be the scene of two extraordinary, monumental events.
I arch an eyebrow when my wolf sniffs a fresh musky scent. “Wow, who would’ve thought it possible? Hope has never even had a boyfriend, but she and John had sex right here on this floor.”
“Yes.” Leonidas answers.
“Were they under a spell?”
“Possibly.”
“By the scents I’m picking up, Millicent fed on them both.”
“Yes, I agree.”
“But it doesn’t make sense! Why feed on them, when up until now she’s outright refused to drink from John? I don’t know much about vampires—does sexual lust arouse bloodlust?”
“It can, but to rip through silver?” He shakes his head. “I would not have thought it possible.”
Together, we follow clues from within the house. A trail of blood, along with each individual scent leads us back outside, where the straw-like winter grass has been disturbed. Reading pawprints and footprints, it appears Toby, Hope, Millicent, and John headed out toward the woods. They did so singularly, or more likely as a group. It’s so out of character for all of them, they must have been compelled.
Who, or worse, what could have compelled them?
“Do you sense demonic energy?” I ask.
“No.”
“Well, that’s something.” I stop, meet his eyes. “What about sorcerers or witches?” Frowning, I consider possible explanations. “Could their disappearance be the result of a spell?”
“From afar, perhaps. There is no indication that anyone else has been here. If any had visited my home, your wolf would have scented them.”
As we enter the woods, their scents vanish abruptly, along with any further evidence of their presence. There are no more footprints in the winter grass, or on the earth. The trail ends in a tight circle of flattened ground. They all stood right here, gathered closely together.
Going down on one knee, I place my hand on the spot they last stood.
My demon vibrates with excitement. I close my eyes, to better savor the unusual magic. The ground pulsates, generating a field of electromagnetic energy. My heart speeds, goosebumps rise on my skin, my teeth hum. There’s a soundless purr of power beneath my hand.
Despite concern for my missing friends, I look up at my Jugulo, grinning broadly. “Do you sense it?”
“Yes.”
“It’s a ley line, right?”
“It is.”
Vortices—high energy hot spots of magical focus—are rare. Psychics and paranormals are stronger and more effective when near a vortex.
A ley line is an enchanted channel of power, some much more potent than others. As I understand it, if a vortex is a tree, ley lines are its roots. The only known vortex near here is the Vancouver Island Vortex.
“Hey, don’t ley lines join directly to the nearest vortex?”
“Yes.”
“Can people travel through them?”
He shakes his head. “Not that I am aware of.”
I jump to my feet, excited and hopeful. “Magic, it’s so fucking unpredictable. Who knows what it can do? Maybe Hope, John, Toby, and Millicent were carried through a ley line to Vancouver Island. For all we know, they were abducted at the same time as Taboo. Take me to Vancouver Island. The ferry must’ve docked by now. Stafford will have the SUV off the boat.”
Leonidas hesitates, something he rarely does.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he replies, as he wraps his arm around me. “I was thinking.”
Tilting my head, I study my vampire, astonished by how easily I read his blank, emotionless face. He can’t fool me, I know him too well.
“If they are at the vortex, transported through a ley line, something took them there,” I say. “You’re worried about my safety, aren’t you? You’re also frightened for Millicent.”
He stares down at me, an arrogant look in his brilliant blue eyes “I am justifiably concerned for my child. Furthermore, I have no wish to put you or your mate at risk.”
I chuckle, punch him in the shoulder. “Friends look out for each other. You, Stafford, and I are more like family, right? But I’m not worried about you. You’re a superfast, super powerful, super experienced demon assassin. If Stafford and I aren’t safe with you, who can we be safe with?”
That’s a very good question.
Chapter 49.
Victoria, the capital of British Columbia, sits on the craggy southern end of Vancouver Island with a population of around 86,000. A common tourist destination, its British influence can be seen in its Victorian architecture.
I’m astonished to discover the Vortex is just outside of Victoria, underneath Craigdarroch Castle Mansion. The Sorcerer’s Guild hides in magically glamoured areas of the castle, as well as within the stone caverns beneath.
Constructed in the late 1800s, the mansion is owned by the Craigdarroch Castle Historical Museum. This organization is a cover for the Sorcerer’s Guild. Nothing is hidden better than when hidden in plain sight.
Leonidas personally notified the Sorcerer’s Guild of our mission and imminent arrival. Jugulo’s are rare, dangerous, and highly respected. Sorcerers don’t screw around with them, so at least they won’t be a problem.
As expected, Owen quickly picks up Taboo’s scent in the outdoor car park.
What we don’t expect is where her scent leads.
“This isn’t the way to the Vortex,” Paradox observes, as Owen guides us away from the castle, toward the outer area of the car park, past a Japanese Maple and a group of Silver Birch. We’re behind the mansion, staring at an industrial dumpster, when suddenly, all illusion disappears.
Shaded by trees, a series of stone steps reveal themselves, leading down into the darkness.
“What the hell is this place, a back entrance or something?” Paradox turns questioningly to his bodyguard, Chaos. “Have you seen this before?”
The red-haired Viking shrugs, pulls the leather satchel he’s carrying from his back. “The caverns here are extensive—miles and miles are unexplored, and many underwater grottos. I brought these, just in case.”
Chaos hands each of us headgear, the kind you strap around your head, leaving your hands free. When we put them on, a narrow beam flashlight shines from each brow. It reminds me of the Austin Powers movie where Doctor Evil orders “sharks with frickin' laser beams attached to their heads,” but in this case, it’s werewolves and vampires.
“Nobody has seen all of Vancouver Vortex’s hidden areas,” Chaos says. “But if this is where your blood-bonded is, this is where we go.”
I frown, mindful that Chaos hasn’t answered the question. Has he been here previously or not? I open my mouth to remark on this obvious lack of response, but Owen speaks first. “Taboo’s scent is strong in this place.”
“Good,” Stafford says. “Let’s go get her.”
“If someone’s kidnapped Taboo,” I ask, “Which is most likely, why would they let us take her back? Don’t we need to watch for spells and traps? You know, be prepared for scary supernaturals with guns, claws, and knives?”
“Oh, we’re prepared.” Stafford steps in front of me, shoots me a boyish grin. “That’s the fun part.”
The vampires take out their swords. Naturally, Chaos has a short Viking sword. Paradox carries a curved Scimitar. Leonidas’s sword is longest of all.
A graphic image instantly flies into my head.
I picture Chaos, Paradox, and Leonidas naked, with massive hard-on’s. I envision them—their weapons in their hands, each corresponding to the shape and size of their most intimate swords!
Gutter brain, right? What can I say? It’s not my fault—my mind just goes there. Besides, I’m nervous. Humor is my go-to coping mechanism.
We descend four levels of narrow stairs with low ceilings, to enter a cold cavern carved from ancient stone. The last time I visited the Vancouver Vortex, Leonidas flashed me into a Cath
edral-like room, complete with glittering stalactites, stalagmites, and beautiful ribbons of limestone formations. It was lovely and impressive.
These caverns aren’t beautiful in any way. They’re practical, dull, and dreary. They serve a purpose, but what?
The next dismal chamber has an enormous, round boulder to the right of a small entrance leading into another room. The gigantic rock is set in an inclined gutter. My wolf balks, snarling with fear. If a ward is triggered while we’re inside, this gigantic boulder could seal us inside.
“Hey, guys. I’m not too keen on going in there. Is there another way to follow Taboo’s scent?”
“It’s safe,” Chaos says. “I’ve pinned the stone with magic. It’ll stay right where it is.”
I have my doubts, but if necessary, Leonidas can simply flash us out of here, one by one.
“You go first, Owen,” Stafford directs in his no nonsense way. “Jan will remain between the Jugulo and me.”
The young tracker bends low, hands gripping the lip of the doorway, followed by Stafford. I move through the confined place, feeling unreasonably squeezed, verging on claustrophobic. Leonidas slides through behind me, then Paradox. Chaos enters last.
The shout, when I hear it, takes me by surprise.
“Paradox!” Stafford calls. “Look out!”
Instinctively, I spin around, turning in time to see a sword sweep by in a quick flash. Slicing straight through the vampire’s windpipe, the blade nearly takes his head off.
“Die, dog-lover, die!” Chaos screams. I catch a glimpse of the traitorous bastard scrambling back through the doorway.
Circus-like madness ensues—not unlike a scene from a madcap, fast-moving Austin Power’s movie. Five lights flash in the darkness. They swing this way and that, while we each try to make sense of the chaos created by Chaos.
Bright red blood gushes from Paradox’s neck, streaming as if from a hose. The vampire quickly clamps his hand over his slit throat, desperately attempting to stop the flow. Stumbling two steps backwards, he falls onto the stone chamber floor.
In a swirling rush of wind, a gust of potent blood, power, and energy flow from the wounded vamp. Copper-tasting, iron-smelling, power-generating blood perfumes the air.
