The Unhallowed (Book Five in the Witch Hunter Saga)

by Nicole R. Taylor

  Rajesh glanced up from the puzzle book he was working on—seemed like a Sudoku—and called out to him.

  Nodding curtly, Nye went straight to the aisle he assumed stocked what Isobel needed. He stared at the selection and didn’t know how women dealt with this shit. It was just as confusing and unknown to him as that stupid Unhallowed symbol he was trying to decipher.

  “Lady friend, Mr. Nye?” Rajesh called out from the front counter. “I hope you don’t eat her.”

  “No, I don’t eat her.” He rolled his eyes and snatched the first box that looked like it might be right. As an afterthought, he wound his way to the fridges at the back. Alcohol sounded good right about now. Lots of alcohol.

  He ran his gaze over the rows of bottles and cans, his reflection staring back at him. Buying…things for a human woman. What in the world was wrong with him?

  That’s when he noticed someone standing in the aisle behind him. A woman in a dark hood, curly hair peeking out from underneath, her face in shadow. A spark of recognition flared in his mind as she raised her head and drew back the dark material obscuring her features.

  His gaze met hers, and his heart spluttered. No, it couldn’t be.

  Spinning on his heel, he was greeted with an empty store. Looking around, he couldn’t see anyone but Rajesh at the front counter still working on his Sudoku puzzle. Was it a vision or just his mind playing tricks on him? He was on edge with all the strange things going on, not to mention Isobel’s presence. There was no reason she would be here. After all, he’d cut her head off four hundred years ago.

  Eleanor.

  It was another one of the Unhallowed’s mind games. Perhaps that was what the symbol was for—a spell to force him to see images of his dead lover. They were sadistic, and no doubt, there would be suffering involved in this revenge plot. A great deal of it, too.

  Striding to the front of the store, he tossed the items onto the counter, and Rajesh began to bag them up. Remembering that Isobel wanted chocolate, he snatched up a block of each flavor and threw them in the bag with the rest of his haul. To finish it off, he slipped Rajesh a fifty-pound note, refusing the change. The old man would forget him in less than thirty seconds anyway…at least until the next time he stopped by. Besides, money didn’t hold the same value to him as it did humans.

  Returning to the mansion, he flew through the foyer, ignoring Tristan’s staring from the living room. He was still watching the same program as when Nye left and hadn’t moved an inch. Climbing the stairs, he ventured down the hall to Isobel’s room.

  Wrenching open the door, he stepped inside. She was curled up on the couch, a book in her hands, and her gaze few to his. She yelped and clutched her hand to her chest, the sound of her beating heart almost overwhelming him.

  “Have you ever heard of knocking?” she asked, scowling at him.

  “I have your…things,” he said.

  She rose to her feet and tossed the book onto the coffee table, and then approached him. “That was fast.”

  Nye was still shaken by the vision of Eleanor he’d seen reflected in the glass of that fridge. She’d looked exactly the same as the day he’d cut off her head. Beautiful, radiant…malicious.

  He thought he’d loved her, but that was back in a time when he was a new vampire. Everything felt more than it should then. He knew love wasn’t what he’d felt for Eleanor.

  He handed Isobel the plastic bag, and she took it, her fingers brushing against his. No, it wasn’t love he’d felt.

  “Nye…”

  He shook his head, clearing the daze. “What?”

  He glanced at Isobel and realized he hadn’t let go of the bag. Dropping his hand away, he stepped back knowing the thoughts running through his head wouldn’t amount to anything.

  “What’s going on, Nye?” she asked carefully. “I know it’s more than a few pissed off vampires. I’m not stupid, you know.”

  “I didn’t know what sweets you liked, so I got a bit of everything,” he said, gesturing to the bag.

  “Don’t change the subject.”

  “I understand you’re on edge, Isobel, but you’re better off not knowing.”

  She stared at him, her eyes narrowing slightly like she was trying to work him out. It’d take more than a human lifetime to make sense of the mess he’d created. A lot more.

  “You’ve changed,” she finally said, looking in the bag rather than meeting his gaze.

  He just frowned, wondering what she meant. He was under a lot of pressure, so maybe that’s what she sensed.

  “When we first met, you were…carefree, I guess. Cracking jokes,” she went on. “Now… I don’t know. You’re…”

  “I’m who I’m meant to be,” he said, trying to leave the emotion out of his voice.

  “Who you’re…” she scoffed and dumped the plastic bag onto the couch. “Why am I even here? It’s clear you don’t give a stuff, so either explain it to me or let me go. I won’t be your prisoner anymore.”

  “You’re here for your protection,” he said almost robotically.

  “I’m here because you’re afraid of my brother.”

  “If I let you go, they’ll kill you to spite me.” The gangs of London vampires that still opposed him, the Unhallowed… They were two factions of the many he’d inherited as enemies.

  “I call bullshit,” Isobel declared. “Bull. Shit.”

  Hell, she irritated him so much. Of all the stubborn, fiery redheads to turn up on his doorstep, it had to be her. Isobel, who he’d been pushing away for her own good. Isobel, who was always at the back of his mind. Isobel, who smelled so sweet. Isobel…

  Grabbing the front of her cardigan, he pulled her flush against his chest and covered her mouth with his. He kissed her with all the pent-up angst he’d been feeling since she’d appeared on his doorstep. The way she filled up everything, his head, his sight, his sense of smell, and his heart, messed with all that he was supposed to be. It was overwhelming to the point of dangerous, and he pulled back before he lost control.

  “Happy?” he growled against her lips.

  Isobel seemed too stunned to answer and just stared up at him with wide eyes, her heart pounding in her chest. Right about then, he wished he couldn’t hear it. Letting her go, he went to stalk from the room, but she grabbed his arm, stopping him midstride.

  “You don’t understand what you’re asking me to do,” he murmured, casting his gaze away.

  “Love a human?”

  His entire body stiffened at her words. Love a human. Love Isobel. He was all wrong for her and that wasn’t even considering the vampire part of the equation. The last woman he’d deigned to love had tried to kill him, and he hacked off her head. He’d started hallucinating her spirit, and the Unhallowed were rising… Isobel couldn’t know about them. The more she knew, the more danger she would be in.

  “Your brother wouldn’t allow it, and I’m not game enough to mess with a founder, no matter how old they are,” he said thinly.

  “Fuck Alex,” she spat, digging her fingers into him.

  “He wants you to have a normal life, Isobel. Have a family. Did you forget I’m dead? That I’m a four-hundred-year-old monster? It wouldn’t take much for me to lose control and hurt you.” It was the truth. Even if he wasn’t in a position of power, there was still the possibility of going too far in his primal lust for her blood.

  “I know you, Nye. You wouldn’t do that to me.”

  He turned on her, his eyes beginning to darken. “You don’t know me.”

  “I know you,” she snarled, and he actually admired her bravery, staring right into the face of an angry vampire. “I might not know where you’ve been or what you’ve done, but I know you.” She placed her hand over his heart. “I can see what’s in there.”

  “There’s nothing in there.” He knocked her hands away. “Stop fooling yourself, Isobel. I will deal with the insubordinates, and then you will be free to go. You will suffer me no more.”

  “What’s wrong with
you?” she asked, shaking her head.

  “On the contrary, what’s wrong with you?” Not wanting to entertain the dangerous route the conversation was taking, he stalked from the room, slamming the door closed behind him. Leaning against the wall, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

  Isobel had asked him the perfect question. What was wrong with him? He secretly cared for a human. A frail thing whose lifespan was a mere blip compared to his. The whole world had gone crazy.

  He was seeing dead witches, fighting his unnatural attraction to Isobel, dealing with whoever was leaving gruesome calling cards all over London… No wonder he felt like snapping. This city needed to witness his wrath. It needed to stain the streets red.

  “Nye?”

  He looked up to find Tristan watching him from the other end of the hall. “What?” he snapped.

  “Reed is here,” he said, doing that annoying frowning thing he’d been doing ever since he returned to London. Nye got it. He was a disappointment.

  “Why? He had better have an Unhallowed witch’s head, or he can fuck off.”

  The knight shook his head. “You’d better come hear it from Reed.”

  “Fine.”

  As they walked down the stairs and away from Isobel, Tristan asked, “Is she okay?”

  “Isobel is Isobel,” he replied, still reeling from the taste of her lips. “Cranky and argumentative.”

  “I can smell her all over you,” Tristan declared like a creep. “You’d better know what you’re doin’ with her, or Alex will rip you apart, never mind the Unhallowed.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I bet you peeped up girls skirts when you were a boy, Tristan.”

  “I didn’t have time to peep,” the knight replied with a chuckle. “I was too busy cleanin’ up horse shit.”

  Stopping in the kitchen, Nye grabbed a bottle of alcohol and downed a few mouthfuls, washing away the taste of the fiery redhead upstairs. Then he opened the door to the patio and gave Tristan a look. Time to shut his mouth.

  “Reed,” Nye said, as the young vampire stood at their arrival. “You better have good news for me.”

  “Yes and no. We found the witch who strung up that vampire,” he said, handing Nye his phone.

  Staring at the photograph of the corpse that was once a very alive witch, he shook his head. “I’ve never seen this witch before. Are you sure she’s responsible for the symbols?”

  “As sure as we can be. We found her grimoire or what little of it she’d scribed.” Reed held up a small leather-bound book and handed it to Nye. “There’s only one spell inside.”

  “Let me guess,” Nye declared, rolling his eyes. “The one that was carved into that poor sod.” Flipping open the cover, he regarded the spell. The foundation for it was the same symbol that was appearing all over the city. “Did you question her before you took her head?”

  “We weren’t given a chance,” Reed explained. “We cornered her in a back alley, but at the last second, we realized it was a trap. Her wards rendered the others immobile, but I was able to slip through. I had to kill her, or we’d all go down.” He bowed his head. “I’m sorry, sir.”

  Nye snorted, remembering his various run-ins with witches over the decades. “You made the right decision.”

  “The grimoire isn’t much to go on,” Tristan said, taking it from Nye. “It can’t verify anything.”

  “The thing is,” Reed said. “We decided to try mapping the locations of the symbols to see if they meant anything. I’ve seen something like it before where on a larger scale the hotspots are part of a grander design.” He tapped on the screen of his phone and gave it back to Nye. “It’s not a design but… I think it’s a route.”

  Nye’s eyes widened as his gaze followed the points the symbol had carved through the city. All the way from Cheapside where they’d found the corpse…to Hampstead.

  The witch the Six had beheaded was planted. The Unhallowed wanted Nye to know they were coming. The symbol on the door…now he understood. It wasn’t a warning or a sadistic party invite. It was a target.

  “Get me Sabine,” he barked at Tristan. “Now.”

  “What’s—”

  “Whatever the Unhallowed have planned, it’s coming to us,” he said, interrupting the knight’s questioning. “I don’t know when or what, but something is being led here. Something that’s coming for us all.”

  “Something?” Tristan asked. “Like what?”

  “Fucked if I know, but we need to fortify the mansion. Get me Sabine.” Turning to Reed, he commanded, “Bring the Six and anyone you can spare. The Unhallowed cannot be allowed to take the mansion.”

  The vampire nodded, and in a gust of air, he disappeared with Tristan not far behind. All that was left to do was to wait until the knight brought him the witch. When she arrived, the real work would begin.

  Glancing up at the light filtering down from Isobel’s bedroom window, Nye’s blood began to thrum. What had he done by forcing her to remain here? If this went badly, she’d die along with them all. Had he condemned her to a fate worse than death? Was that how loving a vampire would truly end?

  Going back inside, he stormed into the kitchen and wrenched open the fridge. Grabbing a bag of blood, he ripped open the tab at the top and gulped down the entire thing before snatching another.

  The Unhallowed were coming, and he’d need his strength if he was going to beat them.

  Chapter 8

  Nye strode upstairs to Isobel’s room. Of all the nights for the Unhallowed to rear their ugly heads…

  “Isobel,” he cried, whirlwinding into the bedroom.

  “Nye,” she said, rising to her feet. “What’s wrong?” Her pretty brown eyes were wide, full of confusion and something else…hope that he’d changed his mind about their interlude moments before, perhaps.

  He shook his head and closed his heart off. “Lock yourself in this room, and do not come out. For anything. You hear me?”

  Her expression fell. “What’s going on?”

  “Stay in here.”

  “Nye!” she exclaimed as he slammed the door closed behind him, shutting her inside the room.

  She’d be safe in the house, and once Sabine had done her magical juju, nothing the Unhallowed threw at them would be able to come inside and harm her. At least, he hoped that was the case.

  Downstairs, he waited for the cavalry. Reed had been well prepared, and the Six turned up in record time. He’d brought along another six of their closest friends, so there were twelve vampires assembled, waiting to assist in the fight—thirteen if he counted himself.

  “Whatever this attack is, it’s a threat to us all,” Nye snarled. “They won’t stop at me. Once they take the mansion, the city will be next. The London vampires will die if we don’t stop this.”

  He had no doubt that’s what they were after, and making it known to the Six and their friends was a logical step in cementing his place as leader. If he died, then it was only a matter of time before the rest fell.

  “We’ll surround the mansion,” Felixstowe said.

  “If anything comes at us, we’ll know about it long before it crosses the property line,” Fox added.

  “There are twelve of us,” Reed declared. “Two to a team should suffice. Sir?”

  Nye nodded, impressed with the work the young vampire had done in the last few days. He was a keeper. “Spread out, but not too far from one another in case you’re needed. I will remain here until Tristan arrives with the witch.” The Six began to look uneasy, and he could barely contain his annoyance. “Time to fight fire with fire.”

  The Six and the other assembled vampires moved away to take their positions, leaving Nye standing on the patio alone to stare out across the garden.

  His vampire eyes took in the sharp lines of the olive tree growing strongly at the rear, the tree Gabby had planted over Regulus’s body and had grown with her magic. Was he doing the right thing? Standing here, picking up the frayed threads of the Roman’s rule while trying to find his
place in this screwed-up world…

  He remembered the intensity of his feelings for Eleanor like it was yesterday. Over the years, he’d pushed her to the back of his mind, but the witch had always been a part of his story, no matter what he did to try to forget. Thinking about Isobel and how things had spiraled out of control in such a short amount of time, he knew what he felt for her burned so bright it dulled the Unhallowed witch to nothing.

  Why did it have to be Isobel?

  Movement at his right pulled his attention as an inky shadow leapt from the darkness and collided with him. He fell to the ground with the thing on top of him, a mess of arms and legs. He didn’t even hear it!

  Realizing it was a man, Nye grabbed his shoulders and shoved him back. His eyes widened in surprise as he beheld the face of the vampire who had been hanging in the construction site in Cheapside. The vampire’s desiccated flesh was rotting, clumps falling away from the bone instead of turning into the hard leather his dried out corpse should have had in death.

  What the hell?

  “Nye!”

  Reed’s voice pulled the creature’s attention, and Nye took the moment of distraction and turned it to his advantage. Pushing with all his strength, the corpse fell backward, and Nye got to his feet, but it wasn’t for long.

  The creature was back with a vengeance. Whatever magic had brought it to life was making it stronger than it had ever been while it was a vampire. It was a zombified lump of flesh with no intelligent thought patterns, which meant it felt no pain. Supercharged with magic, it was the perfect killing machine.

  “Rip its head off!” Nye roared as it lunged for him.

  Vampires emerged from the shadows, drawn by the commotion, and the creature stopped and turned. It was surrounded by some of the best men and women the London vampires had to offer. There was no way it was getting out of here without its head detached from its body.

  Its mouth opened, revealing a row of sharpened fangs, and it began wailing. Then before any of them understood what was happening, it struck. Faster than even Nye’s eyes could follow, it put down each one of the surrounding vampires, the circle collapsing like dominos.