by Sarah Piper
Or when he’d succumb to the curse.
They had to act now.
“Sit,” she commanded. And for once, her vampire obeyed.
Chapter Eight
With a tight grip on her athame, Jaci sat in the chair beside Gabriel and reached for his hand.
Big mistake.
He jerked away so fast he knocked his mug from the table, sending it to the polished floor in an epic crash that would’ve pissed her off had the mug or the floor actually been hers.
Jaci sighed.
The vampire glowered.
“Newsflash, Prince,” she said. “If you want me to figure out what kind of curse is messing with your blood, I’ll need to use—you know—your actual blood.”
“So you can devise some new way to curse me?” He laughed as if she were the crazy one, ignoring the shattered mug and river of tea at his feet. “Hard pass.”
Jaci shrugged, trading her athame for the bird book she’d found the other night. “Let me know when you’ve come up with a better idea. Since you’re so experienced in witchcraft and dark magic and ancient blood curses that can wipe your whole family off the map, I’m sure you’ll think of something crafty. Get it? Crafty?”
Based on those brooding, angry eyes, she was pretty sure he didn’t get it.
But he did give in.
Reluctantly, he extended a hand, his eyes never leaving hers, that intense stare making her shiver. It didn’t help that he smelled so fucking good, and the tight fit of his sweater had her imagining what it would feel like to run her hands over the clean, firm lines of his shoulders and back…
Damn, girl. You really need a better imagination. And maybe a vibrator…
Ditching the bird book and her lusty thoughts, she took his hand in hers and turned it over, pushing up his sleeve to expose his wrist. His skin was cool to the touch, which didn’t surprise her, but the rapid flutter of his pulse did. She watched it closely, that delicate vein throbbing below the surface, mirroring the beat of her own heart.
Instinctively she brushed her thumb across his skin, light as a feather.
Gabriel hissed as if she’d stung him.
“Sorry,” she muttered. “Just… looking for the vein. If you’d hold still, I—”
“For fuck’s sake, Jacinda.” He grabbed the blade off the table and sliced his wrist. “Now tell me how it works.”
She shoved the bowl underneath, catching the slow trickle of blood. “Depending on how powerful the witch was and how long ago she bound the curse, I’m hoping I can pick up the magical signature in your blood.”
“And what will that do?”
“Think of magic like threads of energy, and spells or curses like tapestries woven from many different threads. The key to unraveling a curse lies in singling out each thread, then counteracting them with a different kind of magic—something that will either alter, minimize, or neutralize the curse.”
“Why would we want to do anything other than eliminate it?”
Jaci smirked. “Afraid I’ll turn you into a frog, Prince?”
His eyes widened. “Can you actually do that?”
“Not sure yet. Ask me again in fifteen minutes.” She tried to match the vampire’s deadly cool, but the look of terror in his eyes had her cracking up in a matter of seconds.
At her ridiculous outburst, a tiny smile flickered across Gabriel’s mouth, making him look more human than she’d ever seen him.
Again, her heartbeat fluttered.
Again, he gave her the arched brow, no doubt sensing his effect on her.
Damn it.
Dropping her gaze, Jaci grabbed the Tarot cards and began shuffling, willing her cheeks not to blush.
“So you truly can’t break it?” Gabriel asked softly, more disappointed than angry.
“I told you the other day, I’m no expert in curses. But I do know that blood curses are generally permanent unless you know who cast them. In that case, destroying the caster would break the curse, but that’s not an option for us.” She gave him a reassuring smile, still not meeting his eyes. They saw too much, those eyes. Too deep. “The good news is, that doesn’t mean we can’t save you from the worst effects.”
“But—”
“Quiet, Prince. I need to concentrate.”
Like a scolded schoolboy, the vampire clamped his mouth shut and went completely still—so still she didn’t think he was even breathing. Outside, the soundtrack of St. Mark’s raged on—blaring horns, garbage trucks crashing over potholes, the warble and flutter of pigeons fighting over stale bread. But in the intimate space of the apartment, there was only the slow drip and splash of his blood into the bowl and the frenzied heartbeat thudding in her ears.
Taking a deep breath, Jaci fanned her cards out across the table, then ran her hand over the spread, selecting three that felt immediately hot to the touch.
She turned over each one, studying them intently.
The Devil reversed came first. On the card’s face, a horned beast howled into the night, lost in the ecstasy of his animalistic passions. Two sensual angels clung to him, enraptured. At their feet, a cauldron of blood bubbled over an open flame, reminding her at once of the bowl holding Gabriel’s blood. In the reversed position, the message was one of obsession, destruction, and enslavement rather than unbridled passion. It was all the confirmation she needed that his curse was demonic magic, binding him in ways that went far beyond the reverse evolution he feared.
Swallowing hard, she examined the next card—the Eight of Knives. It featured another horned beast, demonic in nature, this one chained to a wooden post and standing thigh-deep in a poisonous swamp. Behind him, ravens picked clean the bones of those who’d been chained long ago. The card always spoke to Jaci of imprisonment. Despite the irony of her situation, she knew at once the prison here was Gabriel’s, not her own. Unless he found a way to break free, the curse would trap him, body and mind. Already he felt the walls closing in around him as the threat of torment and death drew near.
The last card—Three of Grails reversed—had her stumped. The image was of two women embracing a man before another huge cauldron of blood, all of them sharing in its life-giving delights. In its upright position, the card usually conjured up feelings of sisterhood and friendship, though Jaci rarely drew this one. The reversal made her feel like a dark shadow had crept over something once warm and beautiful, turning it rotten.
As hard as she tried, she just couldn’t put together the story from these cards. The themes of imprisonment and darkness were clear, but there was something about the Grails card that left her uneasy.
“Well? Gabriel asked, his patience finally cracking. “What does my future hold, witch? Or am I to die in a swamp? Drowned in a cauldron of my own blood, perhaps?”
“We should both be so lucky.”
“And you should—”
She hissed at him to shut up again, then plunged her fingertips into the bowl of blood, gesturing for him to do the same. Despite his apparent mockery of her methods, he did as she asked.
Their fingers brushed beneath the blood, warm and slippery, sending tiny shockwaves of magic and pleasure up her arm.
Jaci didn’t have the courage to look at him. Couldn’t bear to know whether he’d felt the same connection… or hadn’t.
Instead, she closed her eyes, concentrated on the slick warmth of the blood, and uttered her spell.
Cast and bound the darkest hex
By shadow we shall not be vexed
What time and magic have concealed
Flesh and blood shall now reveal
Even before she finished chanting, his blood was already whispering its secrets. Flashes of color appeared behind her closed lids, like arcs of lightning in orange and blue and silver. She repeated the spell once more, and the flashes intensified, then scattered, revealing a complex weave of thousands of multi-colored threads, all of them bound together with a dark, heavy power, pulsating as if it were a living thing. She couldn’t see it clearly, but
she felt it, hiding in the spaces between the colored threads, the absence of all light, a darkness so profound it threatened to suck her in.
In her mind, she saw herself reaching for the threads, gently untangling them with her fingers. But even in the relatively safe space of her mind, the very act of touching the weave left her dizzy and disoriented, her whole body burning as if she’d tumbled into a thorn bush.
Whatever this curse was, it was beyond her magic. Beyond her understanding.
And if she didn’t break the connection soon, it would taint her as surely as it had tainted him.
Panic shot through her limbs, and she pulled back in her mind, trying to release the threads. But the magic didn’t want to release her. Something held her there, those invisible thorns digging into her flesh, burning, tearing, leeching the blood from her veins…
“No!” With a strangled cry, she finally wrenched free, jerking her hand from the bowl and breaking the connection. Her eyes flew open, shocked to see Gabriel slumped in his chair, his bloody hand clutched on his lap as though it burned, his chin resting against his chest.
“Prince?” she called, reaching out to touch his face. His flesh was hot and feverish. “Can you hear me?”
No response.
“Gabriel?”
Slowly, he lifted his head. Opened his eyes. Stared at her in a way that made her blood run cold.
His eyes were a soapy white, devoid of their familiar green. Devoid of their familiar anything.
The being sitting in front of her was no longer Gabriel.
“Show yourself, demon,” she commanded, her heart threatening to gallop out of her ribcage. If this was the hellbeast who’d bound Gabriel’s curse, she was pretty sure she and her vampire were both going to die today.
Gabriel’s usual cocky smirk twisted into something much more sinister, and the voice that passed through those lips came straight from Jaci’s worst nightmares.
“Been a minute, Lab Rat,” the demoness said.
Suddenly, the rotten sisterhood card made perfect sense.
“Viansa,” Jaci whispered. She couldn’t get her voice to work. Couldn’t even breathe.
The mouth reformed again, twisting into Viansa’s cruel snarl. “This is just a preview. I can’t wait for the real reunion. It’ll be epic, and you’re—”
The voice cut off suddenly, the vampire’s features relaxing back into their usual grimness. The milky film faded from his eyes, the green irises reappearing seconds before he passed out again.
Jaci waited. Counted to a hundred. Waited again. When she reached out with her senses, she couldn’t detect any more demonic energy. None but her own, at least.
Viansa was truly gone—for now.
Jaci blew out a breath. How the fuck had her sister even gotten here? She wasn’t strong enough to fully manifest, but something must’ve connected her to this moment. This place. This… vampire?
Oh, fuck me…
Suddenly, the blood on her fingers began to burn and itch. She glanced at the Tarot cards—Devil reversed, Eight of Knives, Three of Grails reversed.
Everything in her mind crystalized, clear and sharp and impossible to deny.
The demon who’d bound the dark witch’s curse on the Redthorne line was one of the most ancient, powerful, terrible demons hell had ever known.
Her sister, Viansa.
She’d been wrong to think she could weaken or alter the curse. Next to Viansa, Jaci was a little girl brewing mud-puddle potions in the backyard.
And actually destroying the curse, now that she knew who’d bound it? Well, that was definitely not an option.
Not with her father’s soul still on the line and no locator spell to speak of. Meech hadn’t found him. Jaci’s spells had so far been a bust. Viansa was the only one who knew where he was.
Obtaining that knowledge was close to impossible, but as long as someone knew where he was, she still had hope.
And she wouldn’t risk that hope. Not for the dickhead vampire who’d kidnapped her and ordered her to fix his problems and smashed her mug without apologizing.
“Did you feel that?” Gabriel asked suddenly, making her jump.
“Hmm?” She lowered her eyes to the cards, pretending to be deep in thought.
“A buzzing. Something in the air, like…” He held out a hand, and from the corner of her eye, Jaci saw the slight tremor. “You said the words and I just… felt it. Are you sure it wasn’t part of your spell?”
What the hell?
It was as if he’d been completely aware of the last several minutes.
Bullet dodged. Jaci really hadn’t been looking forward to explaining his spontaneous demonic possession.
“Maybe you spilled a little too much blood, Prince,” she said, dialing up the sarcasm. “Need some orange juice or something? A cookie?”
“What I need, witch, is for you to figure out this bloody curse before it drives me bloody insane and I take you along for the bloody ride.” He seethed in the chair, hands clenched into fists, his anger masking the true fear she sensed beneath it.
For an entire second, she almost felt bad for the guy.
Then he kicked one of the shards of porcelain across the room and shoved his blood-stained hand through his hair, leaving a smear on his forehead that reminded her of their first conversation.
“Sorry.” She headed into the kitchen to scrub her hands. “I can’t help you. Not with this.”
Gabriel was right on her heels, looming over her, sucking all the air out of the room. “So you couldn’t get a read on my blood? I thought you were a skilled witch.”
Jaci bit her lip, considering her next move. She wanted to tell him to fuck off—that her skills weren’t the issue. That the trail on that old curse had gone as cold as his heart. That he should walk away and enjoy the last of his days, however long he had left.
But if Gabriel believed she couldn’t help him, where the hell would that leave her?
Homeless. Hungry. Desperate.
Prey for whichever powerful vampire family decided she’d make a nice addition to their collection of slaves.
No. She wouldn’t go back to that life. Not ever.
She turned off the water and dried her hands on the dishtowel, trying to decide how to backpedal. “I got a read, okay? It was just… kind of murky.”
“What do you mean, kind of murky?”
Hell. Maybe the Eight of Grails was referring to Jaci’s prison.
“I mean… I can’t just bippety-boppety, hocus-pocus you back to normal, Prince,” she snapped. “Your curse is ancient, dark, and highly complex—the kind of magic that isn’t even practiced anymore because it’s so damned dangerous. Figuring out what to do about—”
“Are you saying you can’t?” he demanded. The veneer of his control began to crack, genuine worry seeping through.
“Not that I can’t. Just… Just that it could take a few weeks. Months, even,” she added quickly, buying herself a little more time. “And it’s going to take intensive resources—a lot more than I have on hand. I’ll need all new materials. Herbs, candles, crystals, spellbooks, unrestricted Internet access, an e-reader, a library card, digital library access—”
“Jacinda.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest, the sweater pulling tight across his biceps. His eyes lasered in on her, another warning perched on his lips.
“Make a list?” she asked with a hopeful grin.
After a long, weighty glare, Gabriel finally nodded.
She opened her mouth to thank him, but he held up his hand, cutting her off. “Don’t thank me, witch. I’ve got another job for you yet.”
“On top of breaking a nearly-impossible-to-break curse and tracking down a nearly-impossible-to-find vampire?”
In response, he stalked to the front door and retrieved a small gift bag he’d left dangling from the doorknob. Pink tissue paper poked out from the top.
She knew better than to believe he’d actually gotten her something nice, but she couldn’
t help the little flutter in her chest.
“Dorian believes the key to forming lasting peace in our city is winning the hearts and minds of the supernatural communities,” he said. “Convincing them we’re all in this together.”
“You don’t believe it?”
“Diplomacy was never my strong suit.”
“You don’t say.”
That small smile made a brief appearance again, then faded just as quickly. “In my experience, Jacinda, what keeps supernaturals—what keeps anyone, for that matter—from tearing out one another’s throats is leverage.”
Jaci laughed. “Wow. Have you ever thought of working with children? Your cheery disposition is so damned inspiring.”
“I don’t work with children,” he said gravely. “I eat them. Now, as I was saying—”
Jaci gasped, instinctively taking a step backward.
And Gabriel, prince of bastards, cocked an evil grin. “Consider it payback for threatening to turn me into a frog.”
“You are such a jerk! I believed you!”
“That’s what makes it so funny. So… Leverage. The easiest way to gain leverage is to inspire loose lips. The easiest way to inspire loose lips is by furnishing an environment that encourages debauchery, and paying very close attention to those that indulge.”
“So that’s what this whole club thing is about? You’re in leverage extraction business now?”
“We’re in the leverage extraction business.” He handed over the bag, his grin turning cool once more. “Welcome aboard.”
“Aboard? What, like… like a business partner?”
A dark chuckle escaped. “I don’t have partners, witch. I have associates and servants. I’m allowing you to choose which label you’d like to apply.”
She reached into the gift bag. “Has anyone ever told you no?”
“What do the stories say?” His voice was smoky, his eyes lidded, the smear of blood on his forehead making him look wild in a way that had Jaci imagining being chased. And caught. And bitten.
