Blood by Moonlight

by Jocelynn Drake

  "Wait," Cassie hissed, and jerked her head toward a dark corner of the room.

  There, in the dimness, a swirl of smoke, almost indistinguishable, began to take shape.

  Granny Jane Calloway, come to take back her book, unless he was much mistaken.

  "Hear me, O Master," Vincent shouted again. "I offer you the life's blood of another, and the souls of these two misguided witches, that you may use all three of their life forces to increase the powers of darkness."

  The candle closest to James went out, as did the one on the other side of Cassie.

  "Cut me loose," she whispered urgently, pressing the saw blade into his hand.

  He was torn, for time was precious, but when the third candle went out, he decided to risk it, for the idea of her bound and helpless under Vincent's power if something should happen to him was too much to bear.

  CASSIE SIGHED WITH relief as James sliced through the duct tape, freeing one of her hands. Luckily, Vincent hadn't seemed to notice that the corner where he'd placed them was now in darkness, just as he hadn't noticed her granny, who had now fully materialized.

  "What do you think you're doing, boy?"

  Vincent whirled toward the unfamiliar voice, placing his back to Cassie and James. Hurriedly, the two of them peeled away the rest of the duct tape around their waists, freeing themselves completely.

  "Murderers burn in Hell," Granny Jane said sharply to Vincent. "There's a special place for them there, right next to the wife beaters and the people who do bad things to children."

  To Cassie's surprise, Vincent laughed. "You don't scare me, old woman. Nobody summoned you." He waved a bloodstained hand dismissively. "Begone."

  James gained his feet, about to launch himself at his brother, but Cassie, remembering what her grandmother had said about joining forces, grabbed his hand.

  "Begone yourself, you little turd," Granny retorted, "straight to Hell, where you belong."

  A screeching noise began, right above their heads, as the edge of the tin roof began to peel away like a tin can. Wind and rain poured through the opening, dousing the candles, howling like a thousand souls in torment.

  James looked at Cassie, and she looked at him, and together, they looked at their joined hands. Freed in spirit as well as in body, green met blue in a brilliant flash of turquoise energy that left them both gasping. Holding on to James's hand for all she was worth, Cassie closed her eyes and concentrated. At that moment, the limb of a giant oak tree came crashing through the opening in the roof, but instead of crushing them, it sliced sideways, tearing off the rest of the roof in an explosion of noise and fury.

  James dragged her toward the door, away from the center of the garage, where Vincent stood, openmouthed, gaping at the storm that raged over his head. The moon, still high, revealed his face, shocked and disbelieving, in the instant before lightning struck.

  The flash lasted only a second, but it was enough to knock Vincent violently backward, out of the center of the pentacle he'd so carefully drawn in Annie's blood. He hit the side of the tin shed, and when the lightning struck again, it found him there, in full contact with the metal.

  Cowering against James's chest, surrounded by his sheltering arms, Cassie watched as Vincent twitched and jerked, turning her face away as the noxious smell of burnt flesh and hair came to her nose.

  "Get on out of here," Granny shouted, above the rain. "Ain't nothing you can do for him."

  James hesitated, looking at what was left of his brother, but Granny Jane Calloway was not to be denied. "Git!" she cried, "before this whole place comes down! I can't hold it together much longer."

  And so they ran, hand in hand, out into the driving rainstorm. Behind them, creaking and groaning, the garage collapsed into itself, burying both Vincent and Annie beneath the rubble.

  By the time they reached the house, not twenty yards away, the rain had stopped as suddenly as it began.

  There, in the shadows of the front porch, Granny Jane was waiting for them, the bloodstained book of spells in her hand.

  "I want you to burn this," she told Cassie, and let the book drop to the porch.

  Gasping, crying despite her desire not to, Cassie clutched unconsciously at James as he put an arm around her shoulders. "No, Granny, I--"

  "Don't you argue with me, girl," her grandmother said. The scent of lavender filled the air, sweet and soothing. "This book has served its purpose." Her ghostly figure began to fade, drawing back into the shadows. "It's time for you to write your own story, and stop clinging to mine."

  "Miz Calloway," James called out. "Thank you, and I hope you find peace."

  A ghostly chuckle answered him. "As long as you treat my granddaughter with the respect she deserves," the old woman answered. "Because if you don't, I'll come back and haunt you the rest of your born days."

  Epilogue

  SOMETHING SOFT TICKLED his nose, and James opened his eyes to see a sprig of purple flowers and a pair of green eyes, impish with mischief.

  "Wake up, Daddy," Janie cried, giggling. "Mommy says dinner's ready."

  He went from motionless to action in an instant, snatching the little girl up in his hands and holding her above his head as she squealed and kicked with laughter. "I'm not hungry for dinner," he mock growled, having never been asleep. "I'm hungry for toes!" Pretending to bite at hers, he made growly bear noises, loving the way his baby girl looked silhouetted against the blue vault of the sky, a perfect backdrop for her curly blond hair. As far as he was concerned, she was an angel, his Janie, sent from Heaven above.

  "James!" his wife scolded, her gorgeously beautiful face framed in the open kitchen window, "put her down before she throws up on you."

  "She can throw up on me all she likes," he called back, still nipping at Janie's bare toes. "It won't be the first time."

  "You're silly, Daddy," the little girl said. "But I want to eat!"

  "What's the hurry, darlin'?" He put her down reluctantly and sat up, tweaking her adorable little nose.

  "We gots to hurry, Daddy," she said, giving him a very serious look. "It's getting dark, and Mommy says I can put on my costume as soon as I eat dinner." She jumped up and down impatiently as he rose to his feet. "It's Halloween, and I'm gonna be a witch!"

  On his feet now, James bent and scooped up his little girl, carrying her toward the house. The spot where the garage once stood was now a field of lavender, rustling softly, as though touched by the gentlest of breezes.

  "That's right, baby," he said, kissing her on the cheek.

  "You're gonna be a witch."

  Trick or Treathen

  CARIS ROANE

  Chapter One

  MASTER VAMPIRE TREYNE, of Prescott Territory in Arizona, awoke way too early from his day's rest, a certain sign that something had gone wrong in his vampire commune.

  He sat up and looked around. He extended his senses, something his master status had given him, an ability to feel what was happening elsewhere, even to know if another vampire or human was in his large suite of rooms. Had an outsider somehow gotten past his security and invaded his underground compound?

  Yet his powerful hearing detected nothing, nor did the full scope of his senses detect another living creature in his suite. He was absolutely certain of both things.

  So what the hell had awakened him?

  Then, from a great distance, he caught a familiar scent, a woman's scent, very delicate like a wild rose. He groaned. Still sitting up, he put his head in his hands. Was he to be tormented forever by this human female?

  From the time he had first met Jenna Shawe, she had become a thorn in his side. He craved her and he craved her blood. He had become so lustful in his need of her that he'd taken to escorting her home the nights she worked at her shop. He wanted her in his bed, his body moving over her in powerful thrusts, his fangs striking her neck, then taking strong pulls from her vein until he was satisfied.

  He'd even felt a desire to form a Treathen bond with her, a human-vampire bond that wou
ld join them forever, so long as they lived. But the Treathen bond, named after the first known woman to bond herself to a vampire, was something Treyne disapproved of. He believed in the ancient traditions which had always forbidden deep connections with humans.

  However, in the past few years, since the time that the vampire world had made itself known to the numerous human governments of Earth, more and more Treathen bonds had been formed. He had several human women now living in his underground commune and one human male, all bonded. He didn't approve, but apparently love had blossomed and the bonds had been forged.

  He wasn't like many masters who had thrown the vampires out of their communes. Instead, he'd reluctantly agreed to honor the bonds, as much as he disliked the situation. His duty first and foremost was to his vampires.

  Now here he was having his own longings and his first true understanding as to why his vampires would risk being shunned, rather than give up the love of a human. Yet what kind of example would he set for his servants if he made Jenna a permanent part of his life?

  Of course right now he had a more immediate concern, as in what to do about her now that she'd come to his commune. The problem was, his body knew exactly what to do, having no doubts at all. In fact, unless he could somehow find the strength to turn her away from his gates, he fully intended to bring her into his suite and bed her at long last.

  He slipped from bed. He could feel the hour. Just four in the afternoon, which meant the sun was still at a death angle to his sensitive skin.

  He sighed. He knew why she'd come. She wanted him to help her find her sister, Britt, who had disappeared from the annual Halloween rave almost a year ago. Treyne didn't know for certain where Britt was, but he believed she was being held in Master Dagrith's commune, since she'd last been seen with Dagrith at the rave.

  The problem for Treyne was simple. He was bound by the traditions and the laws of his world not to interfere with, or in any way betray, the decisions and actions of another master vampire. These laws had been in existence for a very long time and had sustained peace among thousands of volatile communes for centuries.

  Even though he wanted to help Jenna, he couldn't.

  He slid into his black leathers that laced up the front, then shrugged into his maroon silk shirt before combing his shoulder-length straight black hair.

  He moved barefoot across his living room and entered a smaller room that housed his security setup. He tapped a few keys and brought up the front gate cameras, all well concealed from view.

  And there she was, standing outside the gate, her gaze roving the tall black iron structure. What the hell was she doing? Was she actually looking for a way in?

  She was very beautiful, with eyes nearly the color of amethysts. Her honey-blond hair trailed down her back in soft waves and curls. She was tall for a human at five-ten. Given that he was six-five, he knew she would fit him perfectly, and he'd imagined that fit a thousand times.

  He trembled at the sight of her. Damn, his cravings burned like a brushfire through his veins. Her scent was stronger now, even at such a distance. And just like that, the Treathen bond emerged, like a swirl of mist around his body demanding that he do what he'd vowed never to do.

  He took deep breaths and forced the bond back. At least this much he could do.

  He peered closer at the screen. Sweet vampire gods, the woman had a gun in her hand. Jenna, an artisan by nature and by employment, had come armed? Did she actually think she could force him to betray his vampire world?

  The part of him that was pure powerful vampire, with more ways to destroy vulnerable human flesh than she could imagine, took a moment to savor what he saw, and he actually smiled. Though he knew she'd trained at the local range over the past several months, she really didn't know what she was dealing with when it came to his kind.

  He typed in the code to the gate, which would disable the lock and allow Jenna to enter the courtyard. With nightfall still a couple of hours away, his guards would be stationed well inside the front door.

  He picked up his phone and called the guards. "I want the woman to enter, but I want all the guards out of sight until I've apprehended her. Do you understand?"

  "Master, the woman is armed."

  "Yes, I know. I have an interest in her." Understatement. "Let her pass. I will come to her."

  "As you wish, master."

  He set the phone back on its cradle. Though he knew Jenna wanted to find her sister, did she really think she could break into his compound?

  He put on his black leather boots, then picked up his iPad and accessed the security feed. Once he was linked up, he headed into the hall, levitated, then flew up the long, sloped pathway that led to the front entrance.

  Glancing occasionally at the iPad, he smiled as he watched Jenna's stealthy movements. She kept her knees bent as she walked through the courtyard, both hands supporting her weapon. He'd taken pains in building the entrance to his commune, using solid timbers and stonework so that the structure flowed into the boulder-laden hillside. Deep in the earth, his commune existed in miles of tunnels constructed within the mountainous terrain of Prescott.

  He drew to a stop within the large foyer of the underground commune, to the left of the door. Looking at the iPad, he could see that Jenna was within a few yards of the double pair of massive front doors, just on the other side of the wall from him. She wore a long V-neck lavender sweater, dark blue jeans, and purple velvet flats. Not exactly SWAT-wear. She still held her gun in both hands.

  He smiled. He liked that she was showing so much initiative, however misplaced. The woman didn't lack for courage and she was determined. Unfortunately, she wouldn't get what she wanted here.

  Still, he meant to make the most of it.

  He moved to the hallway, just out of sight, and set the iPad on a nearby shelf. He tapped the keyboard until he had a good view of the door. He watched it start to open.

  Her scent was thick in his nose now and he was fully aroused. Welcome to vampire world.

  JENNA PUSHED THE door open slowly. Tomorrow night the Halloween rave would take place and she meant to somehow persuade Treyne, at gunpoint if necessary, to help her get her sister back. She also knew that just about every vampire in the Prescott area would be attending the annual event, including the aggressive vampires from the Bradshaw commune, led by Master Dagrith.

  She had finally decided to take matters into her own hands. She was convinced Treyne knew where her sister was, though his oath to secrecy about his vampire world prevented him from telling her the truth. He was a real stickler about rules, laws, and not offending his fellow vampires. Never mind that her sister was gone, taken from the Halloween rave last year and probably forced to complete a Treathen bond.

  Britt had made a habit of attending the local weekly vampire raves every Friday night, "donating," as she called it, to the undead so that the poor creatures might get to keep on living.

  Then she was just gone.

  And so far, Treyne had refused to help her locate her sister.

  But she'd made a connection with Treyne and he'd taken to visiting her stained glass shop often, especially last thing at night, watching her work her glass and solder the lead. Then he would see her home, flying swiftly near her car, as though protecting her.

  That she allowed him to come home with her, often, was the greater mystery, since on principle, she disapproved of vampire-human relationships.

  She knew he desired her. She had been with enough men to recognize that particular look, full of hunger, longing, but with a certain predatory feel that tended to fire up her own lust.

  She desired him as well, something that frustrated her because she didn't want to feel that way about a vampire. He'd even confronted her about her desire a month ago, having leaned over her while she sat on her couch, his body a cage around her. He had whispered his encouragement into her ear, saying, "Let me fulfill you, Jenna. Let me ease your hunger, your suffering. I have many skills. Many."

  She had
almost given in. She hadn't been with a man for three years, not since she'd broken up with her last boyfriend because he couldn't keep away from other women.

  Could Treyne?

  She laughed just thinking about it. What did vampires know of love and commitment, of duty and responsibility, of family?

  As she pushed the door open a little wider, she stared at a fine wood floor, grooved and pegged, and a massive round table in the center on which stood a tall, abstract wood sculpture, at least seven feet high.

  The sculpture drew her gaze to the cavern ceiling. She was astonished because she could see that a skilled artisan had chiseled parallel grooves the entire length and width of the large entrance space, which exposed facets of various minerals. The ceiling alone was a work of art.

  She felt certain, from the many things that Treyne had shared with her over the past eleven months, that the architecture and the choice of decor belonged to him. Her heart sank a little. She had come to challenge him, to force him to help her get Britt back. And now all she could think was that she had never really appreciated him before.

  She looked around. The place appeared to be deserted, just as she thought it would be since all the vampires were asleep and wouldn't rise until full dark.

  No one had seen her enter. If she thought the sudden disabling of the security system suspicious, well, she had her Glock for that.

  She moved forward a few steps. She closed the door, and the next moment, a vampire blurred toward her with incredible speed. Before she could even think to raise her weapon, he took her gun, then pinned her against the adjacent wall.

  "Treyne," she cried. His body was pressed up against her and he was in an aroused state because she could feel the hardness of him against her abdomen.

  So much for a surprise attack by daylight. "Why aren't you still asleep?"