“Quinn?”
He nodded. “I’ll go with you.”
Smiling, she reached for his hand.
Being transported magically was similar, and yet different, from when he did it as a vampire. Both were fast, but they didn’t affect him the same way. When he transported from place to place, he had no real sense of movement. He thought of where he wanted to go and he was there. When Seleena did it, he was aware of moving through time and space.
But both methods got you where you wanted to go.
As soon as they reached home, Seleena went into the kitchen and brewed a pot of tea. He could see she was still badly shaken at knowing that the daughter she had thought dead these past weeks was still alive.
Thinking she probably needed a few minutes alone, Quinn went to his room and stretched out on the bed. While he appreciated being able to be awake during the day, he was sometimes overcome with the urge to crawl into a dark place and rest.
Eyes closed, he followed her progress in the kitchen by sound alone – her footsteps as she crossed from the stove to the cupboard. The clink of china as she placed cup and saucer on the counter. A hiss of hot water as she filled her cup. Her footsteps again as she moved into the living room. The creak of the rocker as she sat down. Freyja’s purr as the cat settled on her lap.
The near-silent whisper of tears slipping down her cheeks.
He stayed on the bed, eyes closed, for several moments and then, unable to help himself, he went into the living room. Took the cup from her hand, placed it on table next to the rocking chair, and pulled her to her feet.
And into his arms.
Her eyes were red and puffy, her hair mussed, and she had never looked more desirable. Murmuring her name, he covered her mouth with his.
She leaned into him, her eyelids fluttering down as she clasped her hands behind his neck. Every thought fled her mind as his tongue swept over her lower lip, stealing the breath from her lungs, the strength from her legs. She clung to him, her whole body aching for his touch.
Until she remembered that he had been her daughter’s lover. She tried to tell herself it didn’t matter, but she couldn’t get past it, especially now, knowing that Serepta was still alive. That she might still have power over him.
With a choked cry, she placed her palms flat against Quinn’s chest and pushed. It was like trying to move a mountain.
For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t release her.
For a moment, she hoped he wouldn’t. But only a moment. So why did she feel bereft when he stepped away?
His knowing gaze met hers. She could almost hear his voice, slightly taunting, assuring her that sooner or later, it was going to happen.
Hands clenched, she lifted her chin. Maybe he was right, she thought defiantly. But it wouldn’t be today.
#
Too restless to sit still, Seleena went out to work in her garden. She had been afraid that Quinn would follow her, but he had sent her one last smug look and returned to his room.
Angry with him, annoyed with herself, she pulled weeds with a vengeance, turned the soil, gathered a variety of herbs. And all the while she relived his kiss, the way his arms felt around her -- sure and strong and, yes, even comforting. The way she felt so at home in his embrace. How was that possible when she had known him such a short time? When they had nothing in common? He was a bounty hunter, a rootless wanderer. A vampire. Even though she had conjured a spell to allow him to walk in the sunlight and to consume mortal food, he was no longer mortal. Nardik was certain that, sooner or later, Quinn would lose control and succumb to his vampire nature. That fear, however much she tried to ignore it, was a very real possibility.
She looked down when Freyja rubbed against her leg. “What is it?”
The cat meowed loudly, her bright yellow eyes glinting in the sun’s light.
With a nod, Seleena left the basket of herbs on the kitchen table on her way to open the door for Nardik.
She knew by the look on his face that he hadn’t found Serepta.
“There was no sign of her,” he said as he followed her into the living room. “I searched every inch of that castle, from the dungeon to the turrets. If she was there, she is well-hidden.”
Indicating Nardik should have a seat, Seleena lowered herself into the rocker. Freyja curled up on the floor at her feet. “What do we do now?”
“I believe we only have two options. We can send Quinn to the castle to wait for her. Or we can wait for her to come to him.”
“You want to use him as bait?”
“They are going to meet eventually. It is only a matter of where and when.”
Seleena didn’t have to look over her shoulder to know Quinn stood in the doorway. The very air in the room felt charged with his presence.
He strode across the floor and stood in front of the fireplace, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes like flint. “Maybe the two of you ought to consult me before making any plans that include pitting me against Serepta.”
“Quinn…”
“We were merely discussing possibilities,” Nardik said curtly.
“Uh-huh. And what do you think the possibilities are of me surviving such an encounter?”
Nardik lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “I have no idea. I do not know how powerful either one of you are. I know she was once a witch to be reckoned with, but I have no knowledge as to what her abilities as a vampire might be. Just as I have no idea of yours.”
“That makes two of us. I didn’t want to be a vampire and my lack of enthusiasm made her angry. She trapped me in that damn statue a couple of days later. I never had a chance to explore what being a vampire really means. I’m just now learning what powers are mine.”
“That is unfortunate,” Nardik said, his voice totally lacking any hint of concern, “as she has been a vampire for several decades.”
Quinn’s brows rose. “That long. Then I guess the power’s on her side.”
“Perhaps not,” Seleena said. “If you could learn to wield the magic in that tattoo…”
“Wield it how?”
She shrugged. “I don’t really know. I’ve never seen anything like it.” She paused, her expression thoughtful. “I have an old grimoire that my mother left me. Maybe there’s something in there that could enlighten us.”
“It’s worth a try, I guess,” Quinn remarked.
“I shall leave you to it,” Nardik said, rising. “I must return to Brynn Castle to advise the queen on a matter of state business. Let me know if you discover anything.”
Nodding, Seleena stood and walked him to the door. “I’m glad you didn’t find her,” she said. “I know you think she is past redemption, and maybe she is, but I still have hope that we can save her.”
“It springs eternal, they say.” He touched her cheek lightly. “Good day.”
Seleena closed the door, then stood with her back pressed against it. Not long ago, her life had been quiet, peaceful. She had tended her garden, helped the villagers, taken long walks. Grieved for her daughter.
Now there was a man in her living room who tied her emotions in knots, who, by merely looking at her, made her whole body ache with longing. And Serepta was alive. Or as alive as a vampire could be.
Sighing, she pushed away from the door and went to face the man who had turned her life upside down.
#
When she returned to the living room, she found Quinn standing with his back to the fireplace, hands shoved into his pants pockets. For a moment, they simply stood there, facing each other, while the air between them crackled with sexual tension.
Finally, clearing her throat, Seleena said, “I’ll just go look for that grimoire.”
Quinn nodded, though magic -- at least book magic -- was the last thing on his mind.
Her scent filled his nostrils and teased his hunger as she hurried passed him on the way to her room.
A good twenty minutes ticked by before she returned, a large book cradled in her arms. When she put
it down, the coffee table groaned beneath its weight. Dust motes drifted up from the cover.
Sitting on the edge of the sofa, she used her athame to make a tiny cut in her thumb. Murmuring an incantation, she held her hand over the grimoire. A small drop of blood fell onto the cover, sizzled a moment, then disappeared. A faint puff of what looked like white smoke rose from the book when she lifted the cover.
Quinn moved in behind the sofa and peered over her shoulder. The page she was studying looked like an ancient work of art. Colorful flowers and intricate vines, faded by time, decorated the border. A small drawing depicted a witch bent over a cauldron. The text below the picture was in some fancy, foreign script.
“What’s it say?” he asked.
“It’s a spell to summon a lover.”
Quinn rubbed his hand over his jaw as he considered and rejected several ribald remarks.
She turned another few pages, each as beautiful and ornate as the one before.
He was thinking they were wasting their time when she turned one more page, and even though he couldn’t read the words, the pen and ink drawing in the center of the page spoke volumes.
Seleena looked up at him, then back at the drawing, which depicted a man tattooed with a dragon similar to Quinn’s, save that the dragon was yellow instead of black.
“What does it say?”
“As we suspected, your dragon is a receptacle for black magic. There is no way to remove it, no way to undo it except by killing the host. However, it indicates that the magic can be transferred to the host, but it doesn’t say how.”
“So we’re back to square one.”
“Not exactly. At least we know it’s possible for you to unleash the dragon’s power.”
“That’s something, I guess. Is there anything in there about a vampire becoming mortal again?”
“I don’t know. I’ll look for that, too.”
He watched her for several minutes, then started to pace the floor in front of the hearth. What if she found a way to make him human again? Did he really want that? He kind of liked his new strength and powers. And then there was the tattoo. What if she discovered the secret to controlling whatever magic the dragon held? If he could combine the power of the dragon and his vampire strength, maybe he would be able to defeat Serepta.
Quinn grunted softly. Power or not, he wanted the dragon gone before Serepta got hold of him again.
He glanced at Seleena. How was it possible she had given birth to such a cruel, vindictive woman? No doubt about it, he thought, the daughter must surely take after her father.
And he didn’t trust either one.
Chapter 10
It was near midnight when Seleena closed the grimoire. “I’m going to bed.” Rising, she stretched her arms over her head. “Will I see you tomorrow?”
Quinn nodded. “Do you really think you’ll find the answer we’re looking for in that book?” She had gone through half of it in the last couple of hours with no real results.
“I hope so. Good night.”
He watched her glide out of the room. And then, unable to resist, he called, “Sweet dreams.”
Her answer was the slamming of her bedroom door.
Grinning, he left the house.
The village lay quiet under a cloudy sky, the silence broken only by the serenade of crickets, tree frogs, and night birds. All the houses were dark, curtains drawn against the night.
A large gray owl swooped down out of a nearby tree, talons extended as it descended on some luckless rodent.
His mother had once told him a story about a boy who turned into an owl. He remembered little of the tale, except that when the boy’s journey as an owl was over, he discovered he would rather be a little boy.
His mother…she had been young and beautiful with silky black hair and bright blue eyes before life on the streets took its toll.
She had died too young, Quinn thought. As a child, he had vowed to avenge her death, but time and Jagg and Serepta had got in the way. But there was nothing to stop him now.
Power surged within him as thoughts of vengeance filled his mind. He ran his tongue over his fangs.
It was time for Jagg to pay the piper.
#
Bosquetown was a Hel-hole without equal. The smelly armpit of Brynn Tor, Quinn mused as he stalked the back alleys toward Jagg’s place. Nothing had changed since he’d last been here. The brothels were ablaze with light, the streets crowded with drunken men, and women willing to do anything for a few credits. Fat brown rats scurried from building to building. Feral cats scavenged the trash cans, eyes shining in the dark. The air reeked with the stink of sweat and stale perfume, of lust and blood and death.
Jagg’s place was at the end of a narrow lane. The doors stood open. Two men -- each one built like an ox -- guarded the entrance. Quinn didn’t recognize either one of them, but then, Jagg had a hair-trigger temper and his henchmen rarely lasted long.
They eyed him suspiciously as he stepped inside. Something in his demeanor must have warned them to tread carefully because they nodded and looked quickly away as he passed by.
The interior was dark, thick with the stink of whiskey and drugs and stale sweat. A heavy layer of smoke hung in the air. There were perhaps two dozen people inside - most of them men. None of them sober.
He found Jagg in his usual place -- slouched at a back table with a pretty girl at his side, another one massaging his bull-like neck, while a third knelt at his feet. Jagg looked the same as always -- sallow skin, close-set eyes, a nose that had been broken several times. He was easily the ugliest man Quinn had ever seen.
Jagg’s attention stayed on the girl at his side until Quinn said, “Some things never change.”
The big man looked up, eyes narrowing and then widening with surprised recognition. “Quinn! Glad I am to see ya again!”
“Uh-huh. We need to talk.”
Jagg grinned, exposing a set of badly-stained teeth. “I can’t be leaving these three beauties now, can I? Have a drink. We’ll talk later.”
Quinn glanced from one girl to the other. The youngest -- the one at his feet -- was no more than fourteen. The oldest might have been sixteen. They all looked scared to death. “I don’t think they’ll miss you.”
Jagg’s eyes narrowed again. “I take it this isn’t a social call.”
“You got that right.”
“What happened to that witch? She get tired of you already?”
Quinn tensed as he heard movement behind him. He felt his eyes go red, felt his fangs descend as he whirled around to find the thugs who had been guarding the front door lumbering toward him.
With preternatural speed, Quinn lunged forward and broke the neck of the first one and tossed him aside. He landed on a nearby table. Men scattered. The table splintered.
The second man hesitated.
“What are you waiting for?” Jagg screamed. “Kill him!”
Quinn grinned as he beckoned the man toward him. Either the guy had found his courage or he was just plain stupid, but he lunged forward, his ham-like hands reaching for Quinn. Quinn danced out of his way, then clipped him a good one on the jaw. The thug went down like a felled tree.
The snick of a gun being cocked echoed loudly in the suddenly-silent room.
Fangs bared, Quinn turned to face Jagg. “You gonna shoot me? Really?”
For a moment, Jagg stared at him. And then he fired the gun. Six quick shots.
His face paled when Quinn remained standing.
“Get out of here,” Quinn told the girls. “And don’t look back.”
The three of them bolted out of the place as if their feet were on fire.
“You’re through trafficking in human flesh,” Quinn said.
Jagg grunted. “Selling you to the witch was nothing personal, my boy. It was just good business.” Before the last word was out of his mouth, he pulled a knife and scrambled over the table.
He was remarkably quick for such a big man. But not quick enough, Quinn
thought as he jerked the knife out of Jagg’s hand and buried it to the hilt in his heart. “As of tonight,” he said, giving the blade a savage twist, “you’re out of business.”
He backed away as the body sprawled face down on the floor. Turning, Quinn confronted the crowd.
A few of the men from nearby tables lumbered to their feet. They glanced at Jagg’s body, then at Quinn, weighing their chances.
“Anybody else?” he challenged.
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
And nobody tried to stop him when he walked out the door.
Outside, Quinn took several deep breaths. It’s done, Ma, he thought. I hope he burns in Hel.
A thought took him back to the small white house with the blue door.
#
Seleena paced the living room floor, Freyja at her heels. It had been hours since she had gone to bed, and it was still hours until dawn.
Where had Quinn gone? And why hadn’t he told her he was leaving, or at least left a note? Was he coming back? Did she want him to?
She stopped so abruptly, Freyja bumped into her, then let out a yowl of protest.
Murmuring, “Sorry,” Seleena cradled Freyja in her arms, then sat in the rocker, and gently stroked the cat’s head. “I just don’t know what to do. Maybe, if I just take him to my bed, it would solve everything. What do you think?”
Freyja’s hiss left no doubt as to what she thought.
“Yes, I know you still don’t like him. But…” Seleena shook her head. “I can’t help thinking that once he adjusts to being a vampire and puts his anger at that horrible man, Jagg, behind him, you’ll discover he’s really a very nice man.”
With a twitch of her tail, Freyja jumped out of her arms and ran from the room.
A moment later, the bell announced a visitor.
Seleena’s heart skipped a beat when she opened the door and saw Quinn standing there.
“Okay if I come in?” he asked.
“Of course,” she said. And then frowned. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
Quinn's Lady Page 6
