by Michele Hauf
“With the eternity spell invoked, I will become immune to death,” King said. “The stake?” He thumped his chest with a fist. “Right through and yank it back out. Instant healing. And I need never fear something so ordinary as a leather-bound Bible.”
Dante schooled his expression. But he had gotten the upper hand with that book. Amen.
“Bring me the spell and I won’t harm Kyler.”
“No deal,” Dante said with conviction. “I’ve never been one to mark myself as overly sensitive and caring for my fellow vampire, but I’d be a bastard to allow such a slaughter to occur. The spell remains with me. And if you should slay me? You’ll never touch that dream of eternity.”
“Of course, I knew it wouldn’t be simple. But there are measures I have taken to ensure you will hand it over.”
Dante tapped the stake against his thigh. “Like what?”
“By now my wolves should have extracted Kyler from your safe house.”
Dante chuckled. “It’s called a safe house for a reason. You don’t even know where it is.”
“Please. You think the Order hasn’t been aware of the Incroyables’ safe house for decades? It’s our job to know that kind of stuff. It was built in 1920 by Christian de Baureaux. I believe you did a little remodeling and expansion project on it with the turn of the twenty-first century. The Order has simply never had reason to approach it. Your tribe has never presented a threat to humans. But now, well, it’s proven handy to have such information.”
“The security is impenetrable. I’m not worried.”
“You should be. We tortured Damian Desrues for hours before he finally gave us the entrance codes. That vampire is insane but not without a pain threshold. And, of course, an eyeball was required.”
Dante clenched the stake. They’d taken out the weakest of the tribe and tortured him. Damian would have been no match for such evil because truly, that vampire was insane. He’d suffered insanity by trying to wait out the moon when he’d initially been transformed. On his good days, he was barely lucid.
Dante would make King pay for that cruelty.
The possibility that Kyler had been taken was suddenly very real.
“You harm her, and you will never have the spell,” Dante said.
“Oh, she’s safe. For now. But you know how this blackmail business works.”
“You want me to trade the lives of a thousand vampires for one?”
King shrugged. “It’s entirely your choice.”
“I choose neither. I think I’ll take my chances with one fanatic instead.”
Rushing forward, Dante leaped and landed a kick to King’s shoulder before the man could get the stake out from his holster. He stumbled backward, toeing the edge of the sidewalk, while Dante landed on both feet, spun around and delivered a right hook. King caught his fist before it connected with his ear and dropped, pulling Dante down with him. He lodged his hard combat boot against Dante’s jaw and shoved him roughly off.
Both men were at their optimal performance as they lunged, dodged and swung stakes. A few times Dante dodged the stake just in the nick of time, and once he almost toppled into the Seine. But as his body leaned forward, King grabbed his arm and whipped him back on balance. They could go at each other all night, yet Dante knew King would not kill him.
This was getting him nowhere fast. King wasn’t about to give up. Nor was he. In a moment of quick thought, Dante, instead of returning an uppercut after King had swung away from his high kick, stood there a second too long. King collided with him, shoving him back to land on the cobblestones. Dante spat blood with the hard impact but didn’t move as the round hard base of the titanium stake slammed against his chest.
King’s smile wasn’t so much triumphant as disappointed. “You win for now. But I’ve got the girl.” He pushed the stake against Dante’s chest but didn’t compress the paddles to release the deadly tip. “You know where the Order’s headquarters are. She’s being held in the cathedral. I have Boa setting up the sanctuary for the spell right now. It’s best performed at midnight.” He checked his watch. “That gives you a little over an hour. The sooner you comply, the sooner you’ll have your precious Kyler back.”
Pushing up, the slayer strode off, wobbling once, likely from the kick to his kidney.
Dante closed his eyes. The cold water from the Seine soaked through his clothes, chilling his skin.
Boa was setting up the spell? He’d heard that name before. Boa was a warlock. One of the darkest and vilest of them all. The warlock hailed from Viking times, or so the rumors held. Hell, a warlock of any sort was out of Dante’s league.
They already had her. This had merely been a lure to get him away so they could take her. Not only had a valued tribe member been tortured because of Dante’s neglect, but he’d let Kyler down.
Could he trade the lives of so many for one?
Chapter 20
Kyler woke in a fog and sat up in the middle of what looked like a church sanctuary. Wooden pews had been pushed against the wall, and overhead moonlight shimmered in cool streams of blue, green and red through the stained glass.
She shook her head and touched her temple where it ached. She’d taken a punch from...a werewolf? She remembered now, scenting the wolf and turning around only to spy his meaty fist aimed straight for her face.
She’d been taken out of the safe house? What kind of safe house was it that werewolves had been able to breach the retinal scan? Such access would involve—she didn’t want to know. She really didn’t.
Twice now she’d been kidnapped and taken to a new location. Something wrong with that. As a vampire she should be on her toes. Able to avoid kidnapping.
“I’ve a lot to learn,” she muttered and then shivered.
She sat on the cool stone floor of a church. And everything she knew about vampires and holy symbols—she had been baptized as a baby—meant she could be in a lot of trouble.
Gathering her legs up to her chest, she clasped her arms around them and took in the room. Her eyes moved inward from the pews and stone flooring to the ring of something white that surrounded her in a circle about twenty feet in diameter. Tiny crystals of something—
“Salt?” she whispered.
And then she knew. She didn’t even have to talk to King to get answers. He’d had her kidnapped. And somehow, she was a part of his plan to either gain eternity or wipe out hordes of her own kind.
Including her?
“Dante?” she whispered. “Where are you?”
She’d didn’t want him to come after her and risk his life. Better that he couldn’t find her, and King never got the spell to work his evil.
* * *
The door of the safe house was open, and Dante rushed inside and down the stairs, knowing he wouldn’t find Kyler. His heart dropped when he entered the first room and smelled werewolves. But they were long gone, with her.
He swore and kicked aside a sofa cushion that must have been tossed to the floor in a struggle. They had better not have harmed her. He prayed she had gone along peacefully with her captors.
“Her captors,” he spat. “Damn it, D’Arcangelo, you’ve failed her.” He swore loudly and punched the air. More swearing burst from him, but he wouldn’t wallow.
At the wall, he tore away the pinup painting and opened the safe. He pulled out the paper on which the spell had been written and tapped the half symbol of the ouroboros that Kyler had easily recognized. A fitting symbol, the snake eating its own tail, for the vampire slayer who would kill his own to gain eternity.
“The bastard didn’t lie to Kyler. But he didn’t tell her the complete truth, either.”
Kyler had believed King would share eternity with her. Dante knew that would never happen. And she had not been aware of the cost of vampire lives required to complete the spel
l, else he knew she would have never agreed to obtain the egg for King. She was too good to commit such an atrocity.
And now she would be involved in just that unless he rescued her.
After tucking the spell into the suit coat he’d left across the back of the couch, Dante threaded his arms through it and rushed back down the hallway. He suddenly stopped, slapping a hand to the wall. “Boa,” he said. “Warlocks are witches and...witches and vampires? Yes!”
He turned and dashed into the armory, looking around until he found what had just occurred to him could be an excellent weapon. A hypodermic syringe. Stuffing that in his suit pocket, he then rushed up to the front room and called Christian on his cell phone.
“I have to talk quickly,” Dante started right in. “The situation with King has come to a head. I’m meeting him. I don’t need your help. I can get Kyler out. But it’s Damian.”
“Desrues?” Christian asked.
“They tortured him. King and his werewolf henchmen. They gained access to the safe house and kidnapped Kyler. I’m not sure where Damian is right now, but you need to find him.”
“Yes, right away. You sure you don’t need backup, D’Arcangelo?”
“I’m good. Thanks. Tell Damian I’m sorry.”
“You’ll do that yourself when we’ve found him. Check in with me.”
“Yes. Soon. Wish me luck.”
“Luck.”
He raced up the stairs and out into the night. It took him all of fifteen minutes to cross the river and gain the fifth arrondissement where the Order’s headquarters were situated.
Dante walked around the building that looked to unknowing eyes like just another Gothic cathedral tucked within the tight confines of Paris central. The limestone walls traveled up four stories and the stained glass windows did not catch the moonlight on this dark side of the building.
He assumed the place would have peripheral security, probably cameras, so King would know he’d arrived. And although the advantage of surprise had been taken from him, Dante decided to act as if he had it anyway. He climbed up the side of the building, fitting his fingertips between the stone bricks, until he reached a stained glass window two stories up. Fortunately, it was a latch window and not set permanently into the sill. He jiggled the window with his fingers, and eventually the latch loosened. He focused on lifting the latch and had the window open within a minute.
Making sure that the stake was at his hip and the syringe was still in his pocket, he then checked the spell with a confirming pat against his coat. Crouching on the windowsill, he took in the scene below. The wide and long nave had been cleared of pews, with most pushed into the ambulatory. Thin moonlight beamed through half the windows, illuminating the floors, where myriad colors stained the dull stones.
He assumed the church had been unblessed, otherwise how could a baptized vampire possibly pass through it? Unless King had his own access from a different entry point. That made sense. The Order would want to keep their headquarters as vampire-free as possible. Fortunately, Dante had never been baptized; bless his mother. She had never believed there existed an all-powerful God who would punish wrongdoers and those who sinned. She had meted such cruel punishment against herself.
As for Dante’s beliefs, if there was a God, wasn’t his ministry all about love?
Love. That insistent feeling that kept creeping up on him. He couldn’t shake it. And it was completely different from the one other time he’d felt love for a woman. He had, indeed, fallen in love with Kyler.
Now to prove to her he was worthy of her love in return.
Down below in the middle of the sanctuary, looking up at him, stood Kyler. His curvaceous kitten, his accidental thief, his utter and complete downfall. It was a fall he had not intended to take. But really? He didn’t mind it so much anymore. For he belonged before her, on his knees, looking up into her beautiful blue eyes. She would not break his heart. She mustn’t.
She wasn’t bound or tied up, simply contained within the middle of a large salt circle. Salt wasn’t known to keep back vampires, but if it was a spelled circle, then he understood when she shook her head at him and didn’t call out. She then made a concerted show of turning to look toward a door on the north wall, which was open. It likely led to the place where King waited, along with his warlock lackey.
Warlocks were witches who had committed a grave crime against their own species. And vampires and witches had this nasty thing between them. Witch blood was once known to vamps as a death cocktail. Get a few drops of that in the bloodstream? Bye, bye, vampire. Of course, that was before the Great Protection spell had been destroyed, and now, apparently, witch blood no longer had such an effect on vamps. But Dante did know that a witch or warlock who had been around since the induction of such a spell might still possess that deadliness in their blood.
He’d brought along the syringe, with hope.
Dante leaped and landed on the limestone-tiled floor with quiet grace. He approached the salt circle and strode around it. Kyler turned as he circled her. Fear watered her eyes. He would stab the stake through King’s heart simply for that.
He clutched the stake tightly and stopped before the salt line, which was spread about five inches wide on the floor. He could draw a foot over the line, opening it and releasing Kyler. But what else would he release? Or let inside? Warlock magic was malefic and vile. Perhaps for now she was safest inside.
He pointed toward the open door, and Kyler nodded confirmation. How far could he get if he grabbed the girl and ran? Perhaps to the street? He could send Kyler on her way and—she’d never be free. Not unless Dante could destroy both of the men behind this foul venture.
“Get out of here,” she suddenly said in a tight whisper. “I don’t want you here.”
“It’s okay to be frightened, Kyler. I’m not going to leave you.”
“You don’t understand. I want this to happen. King has promised me eternity.”
At that statement he dropped his arms to his sides. She couldn’t mean it. Not after all they’d been through, the confessions they’d made to each other...
“It was a great few days,” she continued, “but I can’t keep this up. If given a choice between eternity and you? Well.” She shrugged and looked aside.
Dante beat a fist into his opposite palm. “Kyler?” She was lying. She had to be. To protect him? Didn’t she realize he had her back?
“You promised you’d protect me,” she said. “So why am I here? I can’t love a man whose word lacks integrity. I just...can’t. So leave, will you? Get the hell out of Paris before it’s too late for you.”
“No.” Even as his heart cracked open and the pain of heartbreak threatened to force him to his knees, Dante stood firm before her. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. She couldn’t. It had to be a lie. He needed it to be a lie.
And yet her words held truth. He hadn’t protected her. It should have never come to this, him standing here, unable to help her out of the circle. And her, having been manhandled and taken into custody—who knew what the warlock had already done to her? And King.
He had promised her eternity?
“He won’t give it to you,” Dante tried. “He’s not that generous. He’ll stake you as soon as he’s gotten what he wants. If you don’t love me, then...” He squeezed his eyelids shut tightly, fighting the crazy need to scream. “I’ll get you out of here, then you can walk away from me. But I won’t leave. I...”
He had to tell her that he loved her. He had to reveal his heart, even as the broken muscle was bleeding into his soul. He’d been afraid that she would break his heart. Had so idiotically protected it from harm for all these decades. And now, when he’d finally relented to love, he’d once again lost.
“Kyler, listen to me.” He would tell her and let her have that part of him. It was all he had left. And if she couldn’t l
ove him, then he didn’t want that part inside him to linger.
“You bring the spell?” King called.
Just as Dante had been about to confess, the founder of the Order of the Stake stepped out into the cathedral. He wore no shirt and the wide belt that topped his black leather pants was stocked with stakes, blades and a pistol. He strode up to the edge of the salt circle, opposite where Dante stood.
He would make good on his promise to rescue Kyler. No matter what she wanted—or did not want—from him. He must remain true to his word.
“It’s right here.” Dante tapped his coat pocket and the paper within crinkled. “It’s the real spell. Promise.”
“I know it is. Boa can feel its energy.”
“Where is your pet warlock?”
“Preparing.” King nodded over his shoulder to indicate the hallway from which he’d appeared.
“You can have the spell,” Dante said, “if you give me Kyler. I’ll walk out of here with her—” Or she would push him away and run for freedom; she had to do what her heart demanded of her. “And you can do whatever it is you need to satisfy your bloodlust.”
“Okay.” King held out his hand. “Give the spell to Kyler, and then she can hand it to me.”
“You have to release her before I hand it over.”
“That’s not how this works, D’Arcangelo. I don’t need you running off with both the girl and the spell. She’s safe within the circle.”
Dante considered his options. Though he hadn’t tried to broach the circle, he suspected access would be impossible if a warlock had laid it down. And he couldn’t leave Kyler behind. No matter what. His life would not be the same without her in it.
Yet she didn’t want him anymore.
Please let it be a lie. He believed in her. He had to believe she wouldn’t do this to him.
“As soon as the spell hits your hands,” Dante said, “you open up the circle and let her out.”
“Fair enough.” King gestured with a nod of his head to Kyler. “Get the spell from him. Hand it to me.”
