A Wicked Night

by Kiersten Fay

  Growing a little drowsy, Cora set the book aside and settled into the soft turf. Above her, a puffy splatter of white crawled over a solid blue sky, and though the sun was uninhibited, the edge of winter seasoned the air. She wondered if they were far enough north for snow to blanket the area.

  She let out a lazy sigh, and then mused over the fact that she was actually content. Even with Knox’s inconvenient feedings, and the unknown threat looming over her, in this moment, she was at ease.

  She couldn’t recall the last time she’d felt such peace. Not when she was younger, struggling to survive one day to the next, attempting to find a safe haven among the many street gangs. Not even with Winston, before she knew of his treachery. She definitely never imagined she could relax in the company of two vampires, one of them lacking common civility.

  She closed her eyes.

  Mace was changing her opinion of vampire kind. Through most of her life, she had seen them all as vicious and brutal beasts—thanks mostly impart to Edgar, the nightmare of her childhood, and reinforced by several others with whom she’d had the misfortune of crossing paths—but Mace transcended the stereotypes of his brethren. He was honorable, caring, protective, and so much more that she didn’t even know to expect in another individual.

  If only he would be more open with her.

  A phantom of pain permeated over her neck and upper chest. She shot upright with a gasp. She must have dozed off for a moment, because darkness now covered the sky, and the small creatures of the night were at the crescendo of their ancient symphony.

  It took her a moment to realize the pain that woke her was not her own.

  She was gleaning it through the bond. Was something wrong with Mace? Was he fighting with Knox again?

  “Meeka?” she called anxiously through the darkness.

  Where had that cat gone?

  Cora pushed to a stand and glanced around, suddenly aware of every shadow.

  Leaves rustled to her right.

  Then the dim moonlight revealed Meeka’s massive head poking out from under a bush. She had already changed to her beastly form.

  Knowing Meeka would follow, Cora bound toward the house. She threw the door open and propelled herself inside only to come to a horrified halt.

  In the middle of the room, Knox hunched over Mace who was kneeling. Though the couch blocked half his body, she could see pain contorting his features, and his hand was covering his neck.

  Knox was trying to kill Mace!

  A red-hued rage coated her vision. She pointed at Knox, ordering Meeka to attack.

  Meeka jumped to obey, vaulting over the couch. Knox had time to glance up, before powerful paws hammered him to the ground.

  He grunted out a curse. “Get this damn thing off me!”

  Cora rushed to Mace, screeching at Knox, “I should have her tear out your throat!”

  Knox’s mouth dropped open, as though he were utterly surprised by her reaction.

  “It wasn’t him,” Mace choked out.

  She glanced at Mace, ready to pull her hair aside in case he needed her blood.

  Then she stilled.

  The pattern around Mace’s neck gave off an eerie blue luminescence. It swirled around his collar, pulsing and…writhing? Like a living thing.

  She ran her fingers over a section that wrapped toward his nape, and he hissed in pain.

  “What’s happening?” He gasped, cringing away from her touch.

  “I-I don’t know.” She glanced up at Knox, but for what? An answer? He appeared as confounded as she was. She turned back to Mace. “You’re, uh, neck is glowing.”

  Through harsh breaths, Mace explained, “It started burning…took me by surprise. Dropped me, it was so excruciating.”

  “I was seeing to him,” Knox grumbled indignantly, “before some crazy chick had her mutant pussy knock me on my ass. I’d appreciate a reprieve.” With a cock of his head, he indicated Meeka’s crushing claws digging into his chest.

  Meeka bared her fangs at him, awaiting Cora’s instructions. One word from her and Knox would be without a jugular.

  So tempting.

  She hesitated, glancing back at Mace.

  Mace nodded. “Let him up.”

  She sighed and waved a careless hand to Meeka. The feline backed off, but remained on guard.

  After pulling himself to a stand, Knox made a show of straightening his shirt. “If I didn’t know better, cher, I’d think you were almost disappointed. Feeling a little bloodlust, are we?”

  Easily disregarding Knox, she turned back to Mace. “Is this from the spell Ms. Windshaw placed on you?”

  He nodded again. “I think so. Looks like it’s finally been activated.”

  “We need to go see Sara, then. We need her to remove this if she can.”

  “First thing in the morning, love. My energy is toast. I need to rest.” He paused and glanced up at her. “I need you.”

  She blinked. It was the first time he’d said that without a hint of lust.

  “Of course.” She helped him stand, and she got the impression he was struggling not to lean on her. She hopped Saraphine would be able to free him of this awful hex. Or rather, was willing to. Her last words echoed. Unless you’re ready to hand over Knox, we have nothing to talk about.

  But that wasn’t an option. At least not yet. She needed proof. She needed a plan. But more than that, she needed Saraphine to take away this curse.

  Grudgingly, she faced Knox, hating her next words. “We may need your…particular brand of persuasion. Saraphine won’t want to help.”

  Knox gave her a cold grin. And yet, ever so slightly, maybe even without his awareness, his chest jutted, as if his crass demeanor and intimidating manner were something to be proud of. “I believe you own me an apology first.”

  Helping Mace to the stairs, she called back. “Don’t be childish. Meeka didn’t even scratch you.”

  “In the morning, then, when you’ve had time to properly compose your words.”

  Mace had enough energy to power up the stairs and into their room. He collapsed at the edge of the mattress. Cora helped him remove his shoes, then his pants, but left his shirt on. She drew the plush comforter to his chest, changed into a long shirt, and then joining him under the covers.

  “I’ll be okay,” he assured, before she could voice her concerns.

  “Are you sure? Is it very painful?”

  “It’s dimming now. This has happened before, but not to this degree.”

  That gave her pause. “What if Saraphine refuses to, or can’t, remove the spell?”

  “We can summon her coven. Even if they wish vengeance on Knox, it is not in their code to exact revenge from an innocent party. This curse goes against both their laws and ours.”

  That eased some of her worries. “Here.” She offered her wrist. “You should drink.”

  Mace cupped her face with his large hand. “You’re so good to me. Soon I’ll make a better life for you.”

  Her heart melted with the fondest kind of warmth. Then he nuzzled her wrist. A heartbeat later, sharp fangs punctured her skin.

  She gave a soft cry and allowed the ecstasy to take her away.

  ——

  A low moan roused Cora from sleep. Judging by the state of darkness, the hour was late. Another moan—no, a pain-filled groan—pushed the remaining fragments of slumber from her mind.

  The sound had come from Mace. Was he hurt?

  She rubbed her eyes, which did nothing to clear away the pitch black of night.

  “Mace,” she whispered, leaning over him. Her eyes adjusted some. He was lying on his back, his eyes closed tight. Still asleep?

  As soon as her fingers slid over his collar, a bright greenish-blue light flashed, blinding her for a moment. When she was able, she studied the intricate weave of glyphs around his neck. While she did so, the glyphs grew even more vivid. Mace’s eyes flashed opened. His expression pinched, he let out a guttural sound. As one of his hands came up to grip his upp
er chest, his other shot out to take her shoulder…hard.

  She winced.

  “Cora? What’s…?” His expression twisted into an agonized grimace, and his spine bowed.

  His hold on her shoulder was nearly bone breaking. By the look on her face, he must have realized because he yanked his hand away, but as he did, his fingers caught Saraphine’s talisman…

  The chain ripped free.

  Time moved to a crawl as Cora caught sight of the black stone arching through the air…away from her, the ends of the chain swishing freely.

  She had time to suck in a horrified gasp before that familiar pressure descended upon her. She resisted, but Sadira was like a death adder, quick and agile, inserting her poisonous self into every crevice, every cell.

  No! She tried to scream, but it was too late.

  ——

  Taking full control of what was now rightfully hers, Sadira sprang out of the bed and glanced back at Mace without a hint of pity. In fact, she took a moment to enjoy the fruits of her work. The Morrigans had all perished from that same curse.

  She congratulated herself for her quick thinking to place the curse on Mace at the last minute, only moments before that young witch had unceremoniously ripped her from her new body.

  That soon-to-be dead witch.

  Mace thrashed, and Sadira let out a satisfied laugh. “Good luck not dying. You have about a month, I’d say.” Then she stilled, canting her head at the strange markings that encircled his collar.

  Curious.

  Someone had the foresight to place a protection spell on this vampire. Not that it would do much good—at best, it would merely extend his lifespan another month or two—but who could it have been? From what she understood, Cora was too dimwitted and ignorant to anticipate such necessity. Must have been that dark haired witch, Saraphine.

  “Time to take care of loose ends,” She muttered, and then headed out of the room, shutting Mace inside. Afterward, she would work on getting Knox under her thumb, where he belonged.

  Downstairs, the most magnificent sight greeted her: a massive cat that almost looked like a sabertooth tiger, only twice as fierce. The animal tilted its gargantuous head at her as if unsure whether to purr or growl.

  “A familiar?” Sadira said, amazed. “Will the gifts of this new body never cease?” She opened the front door. “Come, beast. You belong to me now.”

  The cat’s ears went back, and its head lowered a fraction. Blasé, Sadira turned and walked out, knowing the cat would have no choice but to follow.

  The sound of large paws at her back made her grin.

  “Be loyal to me, kitty, and you’ll have it better than your tiny feline brain could ever imagine. Live rodent toys every day, I promise.”

  She glanced toward the beat up sedan to her left and turned her nose up.

  POS. I wouldn’t be caught dead in that. Never mind she hadn’t thought to check Cora’s room for keys. No matter. After being cooped up so long, she was dying for a stroll in the woods.

  To the cat, she said, “Once we arrive in town, it will be easy enough to swindle the first passerby out of his life savings. Before long, we’ll be riding in style. I deserve nothing but the—”

  She ran flat into a wall.

  Invisible barrier notwithstanding, she expected to rear back on her ass, but, oddly, her body kept going, as if transmuting through glass. And yet, she stayed behind, viewing it from behind, as if her mind had been stunned in place and her body had yet to register that fact. It was the most disorienting sight Sadira had ever encountered. She watched her body stumble forward, straighten, and then half-turn to glance back …at her?

  The pathetically confused expression upon a face capable of commanding armies by beauty alone could only belong to Cora.

  It cannot be! Sadira screamed.

  The sound fell short.

  She attempted to bang on the blockade, discovering she no longer had fists. In their place was a familiar dark transparent mist.

  A soul-deep, blood-thirsty rage exploded in her mind, the power of it lost to the ether.

  ——

  Cora sucked in sharp, adrenaline spurred breaths as she watched the dark, ghostly form that was Sadira writhe with fury on the other side of the enchanted demarcation. What an unbelievably lucky happenstance. Apparently Sadira was unable to cross the line that marked the edge of the protection spell surrounding the cottage, leaving her trapped within, potentially forever. Or as long as the spell held.

  A sense that exceeded relief drugged Cora’s muscles. She slumped, placing a grateful palm over her racing heart. She braved a taunting laugh. “You think you’re the goddesses’ gift to the world? Now look at you. Powerless.”

  The edges of the apparition morphed into what looked like angry spikes. Cora smiled, about to lower herself by doing a childish victory dance.

  Meeka’s low growl gave her pause. The feline’s fangs were bared, and her shoulders bunched as if ready to spring…right at Cora?

  What the…?

  “Meeka, it’s me—”

  “Finally,” A masculine voice sounded from behind her.

  She whirled to see the light-haired man from Saraphine’s shop standing two feet away. He had his palm face up and laid out flat, directly under his chin. The instant their gazes met, he blew out a breath and a powdery substance clouded around her face.

  She was instantly drowsy.

  Meeka sprang at the man.

  With a strange warping to her vision, Cora thought she spotted Meeka’s shadow bouncing off the tree trunks, but the angles didn’t make any sense. Cora swayed, squinting through the darkness in time to catch said shadow take form and plow into Meeka from the side, driving her to the ground. Two sets of sparkling green eyes along with two sets of sharp white fangs gashed at each other. Cora’s inebriated brain was whipped into a convoluted frenzy, struggling to make sense of the scene.

  “Meeka, stop attacking yourself,” she slurred, moving to separate the two.

  “They’ll be fine,” the blond man stayed her with a hand on her elbow.

  She nodded on a slow blink. He probably knew better than she did. Everyone knew better than she did. Still, something made her want to argue. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  Shadow-Meeka roared and bit into Real-Meeka’s jugular. Cora tilted her head. That didn’t seem right, but the man had said he was sure.

  “Come.” He guided her away from the scuffle. “My master is already too impatient.”

  “Alright,” she replied, allowing him to pull her along.

  Chapter 11

  Mace dragged himself out of bed as the paralyzing pain finally began to diminish. He couldn’t sense Cora any longer. Had Sadira already taken her that far away?

  Dammit! He could lose her yet.

  He threw on his clothing from the day before, snatched his phone from the desk and Cora’s talisman from the floor, shoving both into his pants pocket, and then staggered down the stairs.

  “You look like hell.” Knox appeared from within the kitchen, glancing around suspiciously as if seeking the source of the disturbance he’d probably gleaned from Cora. Finding nothing, his gaze landed back on Mace. “The witch must be a real tiger in the sack. You look like shit.”

  “She’s gone,” Mace boomed, resisting the urge to knock him in the jaw. By way of explanation, He held up the talisman.

  Knox frowned. “Why in the bloody hell did she take it off?”

  “She didn’t. I…accidentally ripped it off.”

  Knox reared back on his heels. “You oaf! What kinky Kama Sutra shit brought that about? And where did she get off to?”

  “I don’t know, but clearly Sadira was too smart to go to you again.”

  “Obviously.” Knox paused, looking thoughtful. “Hold up, I have a device that might be able to track her.”

  He disappeared back into the kitchen, and Mace heard the soft swish of the hidden door. Moments later, Knox reemerged from the underground
cavern clutching a small square device with a black dial and numbered gauge.

  “EMF?” Mace choked out. “You’re screwing with me, right? You’re seriously going to track her with an electromagnetic field meter?”

  “This is how I figured out which room Sadira’s dimensional cell was in,” Knox said. “You have a better idea? She can’t have gotten far, and this will start us in the right direction.”

  “I already know the right direction,” Mace grunted. “It’s out the front door.”

  With that, he rushed outside, and then halted, squinting through the forest. Damn! The wind had already swept away any hint of Cora’s scent.

  “Now what, genius?” Knox clicked on his device and began swaying it in all directions until the meter spiked. He gave Mace a superior smirk. “After you.”

  Unsure if Knox was jerking his chain, but with no other hint of where to start looking, Mace took off at a sprint in the direction the EMF meter indicated. Knox followed, keeping pace.

  They didn’t get far.

  At the edge of the property, they both skidded to a halt. A blotchy patch of mist stuck out against the backdrop of shadows. Its movements were that of slithering snake through the air, darting back and forth, reminding Mace of a wild animal pacing a cage.

  Knox’s device jumped to the highest notch.

  “That’s where the barrier ends,” Knox whispered. Looks like Sadira couldn’t cross through.”

  “So if Sadira’s there, where is Cora?”

  The wind picked up and they both caught the scent of fresh blood. Despair nearly dropped Mace to his knees.

  “Look there,” Knox pointed.

  They hurried toward an object huddled in the brush just yards away. Adrenaline fed Mace’s fear. He couldn’t stop seeing Cora’s blood-soaked face in his mind, her breath halted, her beautiful golden-brown eyes glazed by death.

  It took him several heartbeats to realize the body he gazed down at was Meeka’s. The cat’s blood-stained throat was deeply gouged. But her ribs rose and fell with the slow intake of breath.