“Good, although Tori knocked me on my butt today with an amazing spell. I don’t even know where she pulled it from, but it was fantastic. She protected me from it at the same time, which in itself, was also extremely advanced.” His words came out in a wild, breathless rush. Christian raised an eyebrow, a polite smile curving his lips.
“Advanced, was it?” he said. Victoria could feel his glance settling upon her and, this time, her whole body tingled. She was sure that everyone would be able to see right through her. The thought of having dinner alone with Christian made her giddy. She hadn’t realized how much she’d taken him and his company for granted, and she’d missed him dreadfully in the last few weeks.
She excused herself from the room to get changed, deciding on a simple black dress. She dressed quickly, conscious of Pan’s escalating level of adoration. No doubt by the time she got back, he’d have evolved into a stage five clinger. Checking herself one last time in the mirror, she took a deep breath before finger combing her hair into a simple updo and returning to the living room. Pan was still babbling about her performance, the divine adoration on his face making her stifle a giggle.
“Tori clammed up like a vise after I asked her about it. My guess is that she’s some sort of prodigy that they’re grooming for some important role.” Pan paused and shrugged. “I feel pretty honored they chose me, but I’m sure she could teach me a few things.”
A clear voice interrupted them as Aliya returned with the drinks. “Who could teach you?” she said.
“Tori could.” Pan’s voice trailed off as he saw Victoria standing there. He gave her a sly wink and a furtive thumbs up.
Victoria’s insides warmed at the frank appreciation in Christian’s eyes. She sat beside him this time, conscious of the lean stretch of his thigh inches from hers. The fifteen minutes it took for him to finish his drink felt like hours. She let Pan prattle on and nodded her head at appropriate moments, but she was intensely focused on the man at her side. The slant of his fingers curving around his glass. His slow measured exhales. The way he, too, was intimately conscious of her.
“Ready?” he said as he drained the last sip, turning the full force of those silver eyes on her.
Her insides combusted. “Yes.”
“Have a good time, Tori,” Aliya said. A slight frown creased her forehead, but it smoothed out as a smile took its place. “Nice to see you again, Your Grace.”
“Your Grace?” said Pan in a disbelieving whisper to Victoria. “That’s too delicious for words. Looks and a title, in this day and age, too.” She rolled her eyes at him. Playing into his overt teasing, she winked.
“I know. Every girl’s dream, right?” she said.
“Every boy’s dream, too.”
“I’m right here, you two,” Christian commented dryly. Pan and Victoria burst into laughter. “Time to go,” he said, firmly taking her shoulders and twisting her toward the door. He extended his hand to Pan. At the first touch, Pan’s eyes widened and he stepped back clutching his hand as if stung, looking from Christian’s suddenly stoic features to Victoria. Recovering his composure almost immediately, he said bluntly, “You’re a vampire.”
Christian returned his stare levelly, the barest hint of a smile playing about his lips. His eyes were mocking. “Yes.”
“That explains a lot … for me, I mean,” Pan said, blushing wildly. He looked from Christian to Victoria to Aliya and bit his lip. “Looks like I really put my foot in it, didn’t I?”
Victoria took pity on him and smiled reassuringly as Christian went out to the car, hugging him. “You’re fine, Pan. It’s okay, really.”
“I am going to wring your lovely little neck next week,” he muttered.
“For what?”
“For what, she asks! For not telling me that you’re dating a totally hot, totally steamy duke who happens to be a sexy as hell vampire, that’s what!” Pan shrieked in her ear. Christian’s lips twitched, even though he was on the other side of the driveway.
“It doesn’t bother you?” Victoria asked, curious. It was not a response she was accustomed to when people found out about her and Christian. Pan shot her a disparaging look.
“Why on earth would it bother me?” he said. At her blank look, he sighed and waggled his ears. “I’m gay. I’m one-quarter elf with a smidge of human blood in there somewhere. I’m a witch. I don’t judge.”
“Oh.”
“Now go. Prince Fang Charming is waiting.” Pan winked and shoved her out the door. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” he called after her as she slid into the car’s luxurious leather interior.
Christian drove slowly down the driveway and gave her a wicked smile that made her stomach do ridiculous somersaults. “So do you think I’m a ‘sexy as hell vampire’?”
Her gaze flew to his. “You heard that?”
“Super vampire hearing, remember?” He grinned at her discomfort. “So?”
“So, what?”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, you are sexy as hell. Happy now?”
“Very,” he said. He glanced at her shaking shoulders as she struggled to keep a straight face and then burst into laughter. “What’s so funny now?”
“Pan.” She chuckled. “Could he have been any more into you?”
“He seems like a nice young man,” Christian said.
“You’re only saying that because he worships the ground you walk on.” She poked him in his ribs. “You’re his super hot, super steamy vampire duke, remember?”
“I can’t help it if people fawn over me like besotted admirers, can I?” he said staring at her in a way that made it clear he was referring to her, not Pan.
“You wish,” she said giggling, punching him in the arm and wincing as her fist connected with solid muscle. “Ouch.” He grinned at her. Victoria rubbed her hand and twisted to face his chiseled profile, her expression suddenly turning serious. “This is wonderful. I haven’t felt so free in days, and I really, really, really missed you.”
Christian grasped the hand laying between them on the center console and kissed the backs of her fingers. “I know exactly what you mean,” he said with a slow breaking smile that turned every cell in her body into fire. She stifled her worries and vowed to enjoy the time with him, regardless of what was brewing between the Witch Clans and the vampires. Tonight would be theirs and theirs alone.
“By the way, I told Aliya that I would be staying with you tonight,” she said, her voice shaking slightly.
His hand tightened on hers. “Good, because there was no way I was going to let you go.”
NINE
Allegiances
“Kristos, where is this witch?” Lucian asked imperiously as they walked the darkened streets of Châtelet-Les-Halles, a not very savory area of Paris at night. Not that Lucian was worried. He was one of the unsavory elements that wandered the streets after dark, but he was getting irritated that this witch hunt had been largely unsuccessful thus far. Their search had led them from Montmartre all the way to Les Halles with no sign of the witch.
“Just up here, my lord, not far.”
Kristos disappeared around a shadowy corner and, suddenly, there was a guttural scream. Lucian dropped into a careful crouch and streaked across to a shadowed corner. His vampire senses on full alert, he peered around the corner of the building. Even with his vampire eyesight, it was strangely difficult to see in the gloom—something didn’t feel right about the air. It shimmered like heat off a hot road, making everything blurry. The haze was magical, he was sure of it. Lucian blinked and forced his eyes to focus. He could only make out indistinct shapes, but the smell of blood and fear was thick in the air. Another guttural groan slivered through the space toward him. Lucian slipped closer, keeping his back to the edge of the building, his footfalls quiet in the dark alley. He inched around the side.
The alley was empty.
Except for what looked like Kristos hanging splayed in mid air
against a building at the far end. Lucian strained his senses forward but could discern no threat or movement, and he crept forward until he was a few feet away from the suspended body.
“Kristos? Are you all right?” Lucian’s whisper was harsh in the deathly quiet. There was no answer. Kristos’s face twisted, his mouth opening and closing with no sounds emerging. His eyes rolled back in his head and his body jerked spasmodically as if tied to an invisible string. The hair on the back of Lucian’s neck prickled and he glanced around, keeping his body low. He snarled, sensing movement behind him, and spun with inhuman speed towards the threat.
It was a young waif of a girl. She was barefoot and her long dark hair was a snare of tangled curls. She looked to be twelve or thirteen. She tipped her head to one side like she was listening to some silent voice in her head and watched him curiously.
“Who are you?” Her voice was bell-like and it sounded far younger than she looked. Lucian straightened.
“Did you do this to him?” he said, not answering her question.
“He tried to kill my friend.” A thin black snake curled between her fingers.
“Your friend is a snake?”
“My dearest friend.” Confusion marred Lucian’s features before comprehension dawned. The snake was a familiar. This girl must be the witch that Kristos had been talking about. Lucian relaxed his aggressive stance, although he remained wary. His objective was to approach the witch, not put her on the offensive. He spread his hands in a gesture of goodwill.
“My apologies for my companion. He was wrong to try to do what he did.” The girl tipped her head again in a funny fashion, as if listening to her inside voice, and watched him with unblinking eyes as if waiting for him to continue. “My name is Lucian. I was looking for you, as a matter of fact.”
“Why?”
“Because I think I can help you.” The snake writhed protectively up her arm to twine about her neck. It hissed in his direction, a forked tongue flicking out as if tasting the air. He spread his hands in a placating gesture once more. “I know you don’t have any reason to trust me, but I can help you understand the changes that are happening to you, young one.”
Her eyes widened at his statement. Now Lucian understood what Kristos had tried to explain about the girl. She must be barely thirteen, which meant she’d only recently awakened. That would explain her lack of control over her abilities. Lucian blinked. She was strong. He could feel the raw magic surrounding her as if it were extensions of her body.
“What would you help me with?”
“With your awakening,” he said.
Her small body shook with tremors. She seemed overcome with emotion. Lucian stepped closer and closer again. The girl was laughing. Her body heaved as her laugh turned manic, the hollow sound distorting in the alley. Kristos made choking noises behind him, but he could barely turn to look, his attention was caught by the slight figure in front of him. Something felt wrong—every cell within him warned against danger, but Lucian only arched an arrogant eyebrow. This was a child-witch. He would kill her without a thought if it came down to it.
“Exactly how old do you think I am?” she asked him, cocking her head to the side.
“Thirteen?” Her smile widened.
“What else do you see about me? How do I look to you?” Lucian frowned. Something about her voice was different. It sounded like she was swallowing gravel. The black snake had wound its way around her throat, its shiny scales shimmering between the curls of her hair. Its head rested on level with her left ear.
“How you look?” he asked. She nodded. “You look like a young girl with black … hair and a black snake.”
“And you look like a vampire.” She bared her teeth in an ugly grin and suddenly Lucian felt something clammy take hold of his insides. He dove to the side just as the snake launched itself toward him, its fangs glinting and lethal. He rolled swiftly and eased into a crouch as the black cobra flared the wings on either side of its head and hissed.
“I am no threat to you,” Lucian said. “We can help each other.”
“I doubt that.”
Before his very eyes, the small girl started shifting. The haziness surrounding her became indistinct and he squinted. She seemed to be growing, thickening. The air around her settled and in her place stood a burly looking man. A man! The snake had slithered back to its master’s feet and slid up his leg. Even from a distance Lucian could see the telltale black mark that streaked from lower lip to chin. His eyes narrowed.
“Why the pretense, warlock?”
“Hunting.” His voice was thin, gravelly. The warlock laughed. “Hunting for the thing that’s been on a killing spree against my kind, and I find you and your friend soliciting a young, defenseless witch in a very seedy part of town. Interesting, no?”
“Your kind?” Lucian said coolly. “The warlocks hold no allegiance to the Witch Clans.”
“We do when it suits our purposes, and right now, our purpose is to ally against the vampires.” He grinned again. “No more hunting little witches for you, my friend.”
The warlock swung his arm in a wide arc and Lucian dodged the ball of yellow fire with inches to spare. He twirled and risked a glance at Kristos, who hung limply against the wall. His body was gray, as if he’d been leached of blood and turned to stone. If he weren’t already dead, he would soon be. Lucian snarled. They’d been careless to fall into this trap, but it was too late for regrets now. He faced the warlock squarely, feeling the change take over. His jaw tightened, his teeth lengthening.
“You should know that I am also no fledgling vampire,” Lucian said, straightening. He snarled, baring lethal fangs. “I am a vampire overlord. You risk war against us on a guess that I am the one who has killed witches? Your idiocy will not go unpunished.”
“Then this should be fun. War between the clans and vampires is just one piece of the puzzle for us. The more of you and them dead, the better.”
“The minute I die, everything about this unfortunate meeting will be transferred to the Vampire Council. Your words, your face, your intent, everything.”
Then the warlock did something that Lucian did not expect. He laughed in his face. It was a sound of genuine mirth. Lucian stiffened.
“Then all they would see is a strong, powerful vampire overlord and a tiny just-awakened witch defending herself. You’ve already been known to attack defenseless witches, haven’t you, Lord Devereux?” The warlock’s smile was calculating, and Lucian faltered for a second. Understanding ballooned like a delayed explosion. The warlock had known all along who he was … because he had tracked them from Lucian’s house. This was all a set-up, a clever machinated trap—one designed to drive a wedge between the vampires and the Witch Clans. Even though Lucian was persona non grata with the Council, his death would be the proverbial nail in the coffin.
Lucian glanced to the right, calculating the odds of escape. Slim, but still a chance. He gathered his strength.
The warlock’s grin widened.
Lucian feinted to the left and the warlock mimicked his movement. He spun to the right and almost collided with the warlock, who had teleported to block his escape via the right side of the narrow alley, forcing Lucian to somersault backward. Lucian dropped into a crouch. He would tear his way through the warlock if he had to.
“Incendo maleficus!” the warlock shouted. The black fire exploded into the wall behind Lucian as he leapt out of the way, only to consume Kristos’s inert body. It crumbled to nothingness, leaving nothing but a blackened smear on the greasy red brick wall. Lucian growled. There was a way he could get the true images of this warlock to the Council, but it was one that he refused to consider even in the face of death. He would rather die than call his brother for help. He resorted to diplomatic entreaty instead.
“Why don’t we talk about this? You are obviously very powerful, as am I, and we could be here all night.” The warlock did not answer, but tipped his head to the side, in much th
e same way as the slight girl had done earlier. The action seemed incongruous with his burly appearance.
“We could, but I prefer to do this quickly.”
“Wait.”
“Goodbye, Lord Devereux. Your death will inspire a flurry of blood vengeance that we, the warlocks, will only welcome. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, and the outcome of war can only be in our favor. We welcome that, for the vampires have always been a silent enemy and the Witch Clans remain our greatest foe. We will watch you kill each other.”
Lucian laughed and the sound was as mocking as the one that had preceded it from the lips of the warlock. “You think my death will ignite war? Hardly.”
“You are a vampire royal. We know exactly who you are.”
“Then you have mistaken me for my brother. He is the royal, not I.”
The warlock curled a lip. “You, your brother, it matters not. You are the overlord of House Devereux, one of the seven.”
“Fallen, my friend. A fallen vampire whose death will do nothing for your cause. The clans will celebrate my death and the Vampire Council will concede for political reasons that my death was truly a sanctioned execution for my crimes against the Witch Clans,” Lucian said. He laughed again. “You are only doing them a favor, one they will thank you—or the Witch Clans—for.”
“I have my orders. You must die.”
The warlock’s hands spun in a circle above his head, and Lucian could feel the shift in the air as energy rushed toward the man’s body. The snake was wrapped around his chest and torso. Two pairs of eyes burned holes in his direction.
“Evoco … infensus … simulacrum … diabolus …”
A spectral shape began to form in front of the warlock and, for the first time since he had encountered the witch/warlock, Lucian felt a tendril of fear curl up his spine. That chant meant that the warlock was summoning something. Lucian was well aware of his limits when it came to demons and his chances of escaping alive were slim to none, especially cornered as he was.
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