Bewitch Me: The Red Veil Diaries: A Witchy/Fae Romance

by Marianne Morea

Lane turned an arched brow at the elegant, strawberry blonde vampire. “You sound as though you object. Don’t vamps glamour their victims into exposing arteries and genitals and whatever else catches your fancy?”

  She took it one step farther, sparing a look for Gareth. “Maybe we Ravens should leave the undead out of this completely and report the incident to the Alpha of the Brethren. Sean Leighton is a good friend of our Supreme. I’m sure he’d be interested to hear what happened to one of his own at the club you run.”

  “Lane—” Gareth’s tone was a warning.

  She lifted a hand. “No, it’s okay. The undead are used to being at the top of the food chain. So, having wards they raised crumble at our fingertips, and their refuge infiltrated, must be upsetting. But we’re not the ones they should be scrutinizing. Three of their own are at the heart of how this happened on their turf, so, Abigail…physician, heal thyself.”

  Bette joined them at that moment, rounding the corner the same way Abigail came. “What do doctors have to do with any of this?” she asked, stopping beside Rémy on the other side.

  “It’s Shakespeare, love,” Gareth replied, keeping an eye on both Lane and Abigail.

  “Lane is correct,” Rémy replied with a wave, signaling Abigail to stand down. “We need to look within to find the guilty parties.”

  Gareth shook his head. “Not guilty. Just answerable.”

  “I think the witchy dude has a point,” Bette chimed in, gesturing toward Gareth.

  “Gareth,” he said, giving her a quick nod.

  “Go on,” Rémy prompted Bette. “Have you pinpointed anyone from the work rota?”

  She paused before bobbing her head. “Yes, but I also agree with Gareth. The undead involved were compelled, and a single vampire couldn’t inflict the number of bite wounds we saw on that luckless Were. It has to be more than one.”

  “There were three vampires, to be exact,” Lane interjected, keeping one eye on Abigail. “I saw them when I touched the restraints on the chair across from the carousel.”

  “Psychometry?” Rémy questioned.

  Lane nodded. “It’s a form of ESP, but in this instance, the residual energy was so thick I could taste it.”

  “Literally,” Gareth added. “It made her retch.”

  Bette nodded, making a face. “I felt it, too. Not in the same way, but it was profound.”

  “Anyway,” Abigail redirected. “We have been on high alert since the breach. I reviewed the tapes from the night in question. The Carousel Room, to be exact. We know who of our kind was involved, how long they stayed, and when they left.”

  “So, you knew all along who was involved?” Lane took a step forward.

  “Sorry, I’m late. The city is packed with tourists tonight.” They all turned toward Caitlan joining them from the street.

  The Supreme’s voice stopped Lane in her tracks, and she moved back to Gareth’s side, ignoring the smirk on Abigail’s face.

  “Sean Leighton has been made aware of the situation, now that we’re all on the same page,” Caitlan continued. “He asked that the Raven motherhouse be permitted to deal with our issues first, before the vampires enact their justice. He also asked that Rémy contact him afterward, considering how and where Mason met his end.”

  “Agreed.” Gareth nodded. “First things first.”

  Abigail balked. “First things first? Your kind caused the breach in the first place. Witches and Fae are forbidden entry into the Red Veil, yet you chose to use your powers to circumvent that rule. We are only here because your Supreme requested our presence, plus we need to see for ourselves the Fae responsible is taken to task.”

  “You can bet your sweet fangs, sister,” Gareth replied. “The Sidhe responsible for this will die.”

  “Kill him if you must,” Abigail added, but then spared a sly smile for Rémy and Bette. “But there are other, more satisfying ways to exact retribution.”

  Caitlan shook her head, in effect wiping the smirk from Abigail’s face. “This particular Fae needs to die, and by Lane’s hand. Besides, it’s too dangerous for you to keep a Fae on tap, literally—and from the way your master is nodding, I can safely assume he agrees. I also believe the Alpha of the Brethren will want both Lane and Gareth at the sit down between the Weres and the vampires, once our business with this rogue Sidhe is concluded. After all, they were the ones who discovered Mason’s body, and tracked the images and scents to the culprits.”

  “Indeed,” Rémy agreed. “You’ll have to forgive my indulgences. Abigail’s heart may be silent, but it is in the right place when it comes to our kind. She is as protective of our own as you are of yours, and this situation has not presented her character in the best light. She is not as callous as she seems.

  “In fact, she has learned tolerance beyond what most vampires are capable, especially in overcoming past taboos. I let her have her head at times, but in this case, I think it best to defer to you.” He inclined his head. “Madame Raven, the Vampire Council of New York is at your disposal.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Damn it! My pants are soaked to my knees!” Gareth grumbled as he climbed onto the east bank of the Bronx River. “Ugh, and I stink. That water is filthy, polluted.”

  Lane chuckled. “Be grateful Bette waited for you take your shoes off.”

  “I don’t think that youngblood has full powers of flight. I’m lucky she didn’t drop me at the deepest point.”

  Lane brushed off her pants before smoothing her hair back into a long ponytail. “Ha! That would have been practically unintentional.”

  “No thanks to you and your top of the food chain remarks.” Gareth snorted.

  She grinned, watching him squeeze out his pant cuffs. “Yet she somehow managed to place me on dry land.”

  “Beginner’s luck.”

  “At least Rémy made Abigail stay behind with Caitlan. Things were starting to get ugly.”

  “Starting?” He laughed. “We’re lucky Abigail can’t fly, or she’d have dropped us onto the nearest garbage barge. If what Rémy said about vampires overcoming taboos is correct, your mouth single handedly set things back to naught.”

  “I did not,” she shot back, reaching for the penlight and map in her back pocket.

  “How far are we to the Rose Garden from here?”

  Lane glanced past her shoulder into the gloom. “About twenty minutes via that path.” She put the flashlight in her teeth, shining the soft yellow light on the map. “I know we agreed it’s the fastest way, but now I think we should keep to the trees along the perimeter.”

  She traced the red outline on the map indicating a copse of cherry trees and then lilacs closer to the Rose Garden.

  “We might run into lesser Fae there, but we should be fine,” Gareth replied. “I wasn’t able to learn much about the park’s night security other than they patrol every hour or so. We didn’t breach the fence, and there’s really no buildings other than the greenhouse and one staff building, but I don’t want to push our luck until we’re at the site and can throw up a ward.”

  A whoosh caught their attention and they turned to see Rémy land soundlessly on the opposite bank across the water. With a single leap, he crossed to their embankment, walking with sure grace to where they stood waiting. “Caitlan thought you might need a hand keeping unwanted observers at bay.”

  Gareth grinned. “As long as you promise not to make a midnight snack out of the lesser Fae who reside in the gardens. If you get peckish, you can have the security detail.”

  The three kept to the shadows and the soft spring grass. The night was cool, but it had lost the winter chill that sometimes lingered in the early spring. Instead, there was a sweetness to the air that tasted of rebirth and the promise of summer.

  “Rémy, what did you mean about Abigail and overcoming past taboos?” Lane asked, breaking their silence.

  He considered her for a moment. “Abigail is superior, haughty. Impeccable in manner and dress, but ruthless in her desires. She wa
s our former master’s progeny, and his envoy before he fell from grace. When he met his final death from his own actions during the HepZ outbreak, it was hard on her.

  “Then she met a shifter named Dash Collier. He headed the contingent of Weres the Alpha of the Brethren sent to help clear our shadow houses of the virus. Whatever Abigail threw at him…insults, jibes, even sex, he met her headstrong and head on. She had finally met her match.

  “As you probably know, Weres and Vampires are natural enemies. Fraternization was taboo on both sides for centuries, until we needed each other in order to survive. In the aftermath of all that death, old prejudices no longer made sense. Abigail and Dash were the first to realize that and have been happy together since.

  “You see, taboos are crumbling everywhere in our shared shadowed world. It’s why I have chosen not to indict your breach at the Red Veil, despite Abigail’s protest. It is true witch blood poses a problem for us, and Abigail’s resentment stems from more than one undead friend meeting an ugly death because it. Even if those friends weren’t discerning or careful about where or on whom they fed.

  “Even with the risk, I’m willing to take the chance on a truce. And so is your Supreme. It’s why I agreed to come with you tonight. With the right measures, I’m hopeful we can find a way to manage the situation, much in the same way the Weres manage theirs when it comes to vampire blood.”

  Blunt guilt slashed at Lane for jumping to earlier conclusions and she pursed her lips, watching the elegant predator move beside them with ease.

  “You are obviously a remarkable man, Rémy Tessier,” she offered. “I owe you an apology.”

  He grinned, and a hint of fang glinted in the moonlight. “So, you’re putting us back at the top of the food chain then, eh?”

  “Don’t push it.” She chuckled.

  “And on that note, we’re halfway there.” Gareth stopped on the grass separating the copse of cherry trees from the early blooming lilacs. “We can either cut through here or veer over toward the path and bluestone circle just above the Rockefeller Rose Garden.”

  The full moon illuminated the small grove where they stood, and the grassy trail that cut through to Rose Garden. The labyrinth of gorgeous rose bushes was muted in the moonlight, as was the gazebo at the center of the lush landscaped architecture, covered in a dull green tarpaulin.

  “Why risk the pavement when we’re so close?” Lane gestured toward the soft slope ahead.

  Gareth shrugged, non-committal. “It’s six- and one-half dozen of another to me, but I thought you might want a break from the damp grass.”

  Together they moved toward the fragrant trees, but Rémy stayed put, motionless.

  “Rémy? Is everything all right?” Lane asked.

  “Something is barring my entry.”

  Before she could ask another question, a dull wince creased the vampire’s face. “It’s warded. With Ferfaen. The druid’s plant.”

  “No unclean shall pass,” a growly rasp croaked from the shadows. “How dare you bring an unclean to befoul our garden.”

  The rough voice came from the shadows, and Lane threw a hand outward, speaking a druid word for light. “Soilsigh!”

  The little beast hissed, clamoring back into shadow, but not before they saw its squat, thickset body covered with matted hair. Eyes blinked at them, glowing red and saucer-like in the refracted light.

  Long prominent teeth showed behind thin lips, and skinny fingers armed with talons shielded its face.

  “What manner of beast is this?” Rémy asked, taking a step closer to the creature only to have it hiss again. “If it thinks I’m unclean, then it hasn’t looked in the mirror lately.”

  “Looks to be half boggart, half hogboon. Nasty mischief-maker mixed with a sweet-natured goblin,” Gareth answered.

  “A sweet goblin?” Rémy peered even closer. “Sounds like an oxymoron.”

  The creature snorted. “Ye thinks ye better? Ye defile the garden with yer unclean self. Begone! Before ye hurt more!”

  “Hurt?” Gareth questioned, only to hear a clipped growl for an answer.

  The creature scuttled forward, teeth bared, stopping short only when Lane stepped in front of both Gareth and Rémy.

  “Princesssss!”

  Its protracted hiss at the end of the word made her teeth hurt. “Who are you?” she questioned, raising another light spiral in her hand just in case.

  “I be Xax, and I speak for the wee folk here. We folk mind our own, but ye and yers think it fun to hurt us for sport. Ye had yer help before, but don’t think to be trolling for blood here anymore, missy. We banished the Redcaps when they chose the bloodsucking unclean that came with the new king. They’ve dipped their caps in our life’s blood for the last time. You’ll find no quarter and no help here.”

  Pixies divebombed like marauding flies, as two grimy-haired boggarts and a stray phooka came into view.

  “Jesus, they’re like a swarm on crack!” Gareth batted them away, but there were always more. “Ouch! They’ve got knives! Fucking mosquitos with swords!”

  They didn’t go near Rémy, but Lane ducked and twisted, waving her hands to fend them off as well.

  With a wince, Rémy moved to Lane’s side and the attack stopped immediately. He flicked one from Lane’s shoulder with his thumb and forefinger. “Unclean, one. Psycho Tinkerbelle, zip.”

  A low moan caught Lane’s attention and she turned toward the pained sound. She spoke the word for light again, only this time it showed a smaller version of Xax. A female, and she was injured.

  Lane took a step toward the injured lesser, and Xax shot forward, blocking her way. “Princesssss, show mercy. I beg ye!”

  The ugly belligerent creature was obviously the wounded lesser Fae’s mate. Lane looked from him to Gareth. “Leith must have convinced these outcasts he defeated the Unseelie king and took over the court. That’s what he meant by new king.”

  Her voice never moved above a whisper, but Xax heard her, nonetheless. He pulled himself to his full height, all two feet of him, and sniffed. “We be exiles, not outcasts. Thrown from our home in the roses because of the likes of ye and ye father.”

  “Leith is my father, but I’m no princess, and neither is he king,” Lane replied. “The Unseelie king still rules. Leith is a liar and a murdering bastard, and he not only interacts with the unclean,” she shot Rémy an apologetic look, “but he has them do his bidding against you and others of our kind.”

  The creature spit, and its saliva sizzled on the pavement leaving a pitted black spot. “A curse on his name!”

  “Answer us this. Why can’t our friend pass? Is the ground spelled?” Lane demanded.

  The hogboon halfling turned with another sniff toward the shadows, clearly unwilling to play.

  “Okay, Xax. I’ve got something for you, but only if you play nice.” Lane dug in the canvas bag hanging across her chest, pulling out a handful of dollar store Marti Gras beads.

  The creature turned, and eyes went wide as it stared at the colorful costume beads. Its thin lips parted, and it took an absent step forward.

  Gareth looked at Lane. “Seriously?”

  “When you said lesser Fae might live in the Gardens, I did a little research. Brownies and pixies like milk, phookas and boggarts like crops, goblins like shiny objects, especially jewelry.”

  “For Xax, princesssss?” The creature asked, pointing to his hairy chest.

  She nodded. Opening her bag, she fished out an ear of corn and a container of heavy cream, placing all the offerings at the base of a lilac tree. “I have more, but I want answers.”

  They clamored for the offerings, sparing the three of them furtive looks before moving toward the shadows again.

  “Wait,” Lane stopped the goblin. “Why is my friend barred from the trees?”

  The creature showed a wide set of long sharp teeth in a grotesque smile. “Because I warded his ilk, after those with the king hurt my Eesa. Ferfaen brewed thick and rich, and then poured into the
earth that none who feed from living blood may pass.”

  “Eesa?” she questioned.

  The hogboon goblin nodded once, and his red eyes seemed wet. “My mate.” Xax lifted a clawed hand toward the injured female. “They found her in the roses gathering nectar, and they dragged her into—”

  The little creature’s voice cracked, and Rémy stopped him from explaining further. There was no need. The heartbreak on his face said it all.

  With a hand on his heart, the vampire stepped forward and knelt to one knee. “Those that hurt your mate will be punished. You have my word.”

  “Are ye their king?” Xax’s wide red eyes searched his for the truth.

  Nodding, Rémy bowed his head and the hogboon goblin sniffed, giving him a nod back.

  Waving a skinny, taloned hand, the ward barring Rémy from the grove crumbled with a low bell-like tinkle. Xax lifted a clawed finger and pointed it at the vampire. “Ye may pass, but ye won’t enter the roses. The princesssss and her mate be the only two.”

  Rémy straightened, stalemated. “I’m out of my element here. Looks like you’re on your own from this point. I’ll do what I can from this side, but I cannot help if you get caught within.”

  “Salt and light,” Gareth offered. “That should keep this lot at bay if they get too curious. Not that it’s likely. The best thing you can do for us is keep unwanted human visitors away so we can do what we came to do.”

  “The false king expects ye through the roses,” Xax interrupted. “He has one like ye. He feeds from her.” The hogboon’s chin dropped to his chest before he met Lane’s eyes. “A friend, I think. She waits for ye to come.”

  Gareth put a staying hand on Lane’s arm. “If Leith is expecting us through the roses, then the gazebo is a trap. There has to be another way.”

  “Xax will take ye through the tunnels.”

  Lane turned on her heel to watch Eesa struggle to stand.

  “Eesa, no. It is forbidden.”

  “Xax,” she coughed, “ye must take them. If the false king did this to us, what will he do to all the others?”

  Lane dumped the contents of her bag at Xax’s feet. “I’ll bring you sacks of shiny jewels and as much cream as you can drink, if you can help us find a way to defeat the false king.”