Supernatural Bundle

by Jacquelyn Frank

“The dream. I was in a dungeon, and there was a woman lying on the floor. I think the other women were performing some ritual upon her.”

  “Selena,” he muttered. “She must have passed a portion of her memories onto you. That’s the only explanation.”

  “Passed on memories? But that’s . . .” Her words trailed away as a mocking smile curved his lips.

  “Impossible? Don’t you think we’re beyond that by now?”

  They were, of course. She had tumbled into some bizarro world where anything was possible. Like Alice in the Looking Glass.

  Only instead of disappearing cats and white rabbits, there were vampires and mysterious Chalices and who knew what else.

  “What did they do to her?”

  “They made her a Chalice. A human vessel for a powerful entity.”

  “So those women were witches?”

  “For lack of a better term.”

  Great. Just great. “And they put a spell upon Selena?”

  The silver eyes shimmered in the shadowed light. “It was rather more than a spell. They called forth the spirit of the Phoenix to live within her body.”

  Abby could almost feel the crimson flames that had seared into the woman’s flesh. She shivered in horror. “No wonder she was screaming. What does this Phoenix do?”

  “It is a . . . barrier.”

  She eyed him warily. “A barrier against what?”

  “Against the darkness.”

  Well, that made everything as clear as mud. Impatiently Abby wriggled beneath the man pinning her to the bed.

  A bad, very bad move.

  As if a lightning bolt had suddenly struck her, she was vibrantly aware of his hard body branding her own. A body that had haunted her dreams more than a few nights.

  Dante’s jaw tightened at her unwittingly provocative movements, his hips instinctively shifting in response.

  “Do you think you could possibly be a little more vague?” she managed to choke out.

  “What would you have me say?” he demanded in rasping tones.

  She struggled to keep her thoughts focused. Good God. Now was no time to be thinking of . . . of . . . that.

  “Something a bit more clarifying than the darkness.”

  There was a moment of silence, as if he were waging his own battle. Then at last he met her gaze squarely.

  “Very well. The demon world refers to the darkness as the Prince, but in truth it isn’t a real being. It is more a . . . spirit, just as the Phoenix is a spirit. An essence of power that demons call upon to enhance their dark skills.”

  “And the Phoenix does something to this Prince?”

  “Her presence among mortals has banished the Prince from this world. They are two opposites. Neither can be in the same plane at the same moment. Not without both being destroyed.”

  Well, that seemed like a good thing. The first ray of hope in a very bleak day.

  “So, no more demons?”

  He gave a lift of his shoulder. “They remain, but without the tangible presence of the Prince, they are weakened and chaotic. No longer do they band together to attack in strength, and rarely do they hunt humans. They have been forced into the shadows.”

  “That’s good, I suppose,” she said slowly. “And Selena was this barrier?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  He blinked at the abrupt question. “Why?”

  “Why was she chosen?” Abby clarified, not quite certain why she even cared. She only knew that at the moment it seemed important. “Was she a witch?”

  Oddly Dante paused, almost as if he were considering not answering her question. Ridiculous after all he had already revealed. What could be worse than the fact that she was being held captive by a vampire? Or that the one person who kept away all the scary, bad things in the night was now dead?

  “She was not so much chosen as offered as a sacrifice by her father,” he at last grudgingly confessed.

  “She was sacrificed by her father?” Abby gave a startled blink. Hell, she had always thought her father was a shoo-in for scumbag of the year. He had been a brutal jerk whose only redeeming act had been tossing aside his family for a bottle of whiskey. Still, he hadn’t offered her up as fodder to a band of crazed witches. “How could he do such a thing?”

  The elegant features hardened with ancient anger. “Quite easily. He was powerful, rich, and accustomed to having his way in all things. Or he was until he was struck down with the plague. In exchange for a cure, he gave the witches his only daughter.”

  “Holy crap. That’s horrible.”

  “I suppose he thought it a fair trade-off. He was cured and his daughter made immortal.”

  “Immortal?” Abby caught in breath with sudden hope. “Then Selena is still alive?”

  The beautiful features sharpened even further. “No, she is very much dead.”

  “But . . . how?”

  “I don’t know.” His tone was rough with coiled emotions. “At least not yet.”

  Abby bit her bottom lip, attempting to wrap her aching brain around the consequences of such a death.

  “Then the Phoenix is gone?”

  “No, it is not gone. It is—” Without warning, Dante flowed to his feet, his head turning toward the closed door. A tense silence filled the room before he at last returned his gaze to her startled face. “Abby, we must go. Now.”

  Chapter 3

  Dante fiercely cursed his stupidity.

  For 341 years he had stood as guardian to the Phoenix. Not willingly, and not without a simmering fury at his fate, but with absolute dedication. It was not as if he had a choice. Those witches had seen to that.

  But now, when the danger was at its greatest, he discovered himself barely capable of concentrating upon the threat very much at hand.

  He impatiently shoved back his tangled hair. Bloody hell, there was little wonder he was distracted. In the past few hours, he had endured more shocks than he had in centuries. The death of the immortal Selena. The fierce, intoxicating joy as he felt the chains begin to loosen. And the horror of watching the Phoenix being branded into Abby.

  Abby.

  Double bloody hell. He glared down at her slender form. The woman had been a plague and pestilence since she arrived at Selena’s estate. With her skin as soft as satin. Her honey curls that haloed her gamine face. Her vulnerable eyes. And the hot passions that smoldered just beneath her screw-the-world attitude. It called to him like the song of a Siren. A tasty morsel that he had had every intention of consuming at his leisure.

  But now everything had changed. Now she was no longer a lovely diversion. No longer a bit of sport. She was his to protect. And he would do so until his very death.

  “Come,” he commanded in soft tones, summoning his ancient instincts. “Something approaches.”

  Struggling to her feet, she eyed him warily. “What?”

  He grasped her arm in a firm grip. “Demons.” He reached out with his senses, touching the approaching darkness. “And more than one.”

  Her face paled, but with that inner strength he had always admired, she didn’t faint or scream or do all those annoying things that mortals were so prone to do when faced with the mystic.

  “But they surely won’t trouble us. We don’t have anything they could want.”

  His lips twisted. “You’re wrong, lover. We possess a treasure beyond all dreams.”

  “What—”

  “I’m afraid the twenty questions will have to wait until later, Abby.”

  Pulling her close to his side, he silently crossed toward the nearly hidden door next to the bed. Reaching out, he turned the knob and thrust it open. Wood splintered as the dead bolt was ripped from the frame. Still holding Abby close, he tugged her through the shadows of the adjoining room, barely giving a glance toward the drunk who snored in vodka oblivion upon his bed.

  Dante moved directly to the narrow window. Forcing it open, he turned to lean close to Abby’s ear. “Stay close to me and don’t make a sound,
” he whispered. “If we are attacked, I want you to stay behind me and don’t run. They will be attempting to frighten you into a trap.”

  “But I want to know why—”

  “Not now, Abby,” he growled impatiently. “If we’re going to get out of here alive, I need you to trust me. Can you do that?”

  There was a moment of silence. In the gloom, Dante could sense the fragility of her control. She was near shattering, and he could only hope that her impending collapse could be held off long enough to get to safety.

  At last she swallowed heavily and gave a grudging nod of her head. “Yes.”

  He gazed deep into her eyes, startled by the stir of something that might have been warmth.

  “Then let’s go.”

  Taking her hand, he helped her climb through the narrow window, waiting until she was standing upon the metal fire escape before following her into the darkness. He paused just a moment, peering down at the littered alley below. His instincts warned that demons lurked nearby. Unfortunately, to remain would mean being trapped and surrounded. They had no choice but to go forward.

  Or in this case, down.

  Grimly Dante gave a tilt of his head toward the nearby ladder. With reluctant steps, Abby moved across the platform and forced herself to climb down the rungs. He waited until she had reached the bottom before stepping off the edge and landing next to her shivering form.

  As she opened her lips to speak, he reached out to press a finger to her mouth, giving a sharp shake of his head. Danger prickled over his skin. Something was near. Very near. Turning toward a large Dumpster, he took a slow step forward.

  “Show yourself,” he commanded.

  There was a rustle in the shadows followed by a sharp scrape of claws upon the pavement before a large, hulking form slowly appeared. At first glance, it would be simple to dismiss the intruder as an awkward, brainless beast. With thick, leathery skin, seeping boils, and a misshapen head that sported three eyes, he was the poster child for the monster beneath the bed. But Dante was all too familiar with this particular demon and knew that beneath all the ugly was a cunning intelligence that was more deadly than any muscle.

  “Halford.” Dante offered a mocking bow.

  “Ah, Dante.” The deep, rumbling voice possessed a polished, elegant accent that would have been right at home in a posh boarding school. A ludicrous contrast to his brutish appearance. “I just knew you would be dropping in once you caught whiff of those hellhounds. I’ve tried for centuries to train them with a bit of discretion, but they must always rush in when stealth would serve best.”

  Ensuring that he stood squarely between Abby and the demon, Dante offered a faint shrug.

  “Hellhounds have never been renowned for their intelligence.”

  “No. A pity, really. Still, they do have their uses. Such as flushing out prey so that I needn’t muck about in such filth.” Halford cast a disdainful glance toward the dilapidated hotel. “I must say, Dante, I had always believed you to possess better taste.”

  “What better place to hide from the scum than beneath their very noses?”

  Halford loosed a rumbling laugh that echoed eerily down the alley. “A clever ploy except for the fact that every brother in the city can smell your beauty from a mile away. I fear there’s no hiding.”

  Dante silently cursed. Although Abby carried the Phoenix, she had not yet fully acquired its powers or any knowledge of how to control those powers. Until she did, she would be a beacon to every demon in the area.

  “You underestimate my skill,” he drawled in silky tones.

  “Oh no, I would never be so stupid as to underestimate you, Dante.” The demon stepped forward, his claws grinding the pavement to dust. “Unlike many in the brotherhood, I can easily sense the power that you have been forced to keep leashed all these tedious years. Which is why I’m quite prepared to allow you to walk away. I have no wish to kill you.”

  Dante gave a lift of his brow. “You will allow me to walk away?”

  “Of course. I have never taken pleasure in killing my fellow demons.” Halford gave what vaguely passed as a smile, considering his triple rows of teeth. “Leave the girl and I can promise that you’ll never be troubled again.”

  Ah. Dante abruptly grasped the truth. Halford was alone. And not at all certain he could best a vampire. At least not before the other gathering demons could arrive and complicate matters.

  “A rather generous offer,” Dante murmured.

  “I think so.”

  “Still, I think that handing over such a priceless treasure should be worth something more tangible. After all, if you are forced to battle me for the wench, you might discover yourself having to share the glory with any number of demons rushing in this direction.”

  A sudden blow to the center of his back assured Dante that Abby had heard his taunting words. And naturally had jumped to the predictable conclusion. He was an evil vampire, after all.

  Reaching back, he grasped one slender wrist in a tight grip. He could not risk having her bolt.

  Halford narrowed his eyes. All three of them. “What could be more tangible than your life?”

  Dante shrugged. “There’s little point in living an eternity if I must be reduced to wallowing among the wretched. As you said, I’m accustomed to a rather more luxurious lifestyle that is about to come to an end without Selena.”

  “Why you . . .” With a low growl, Abby frantically struggled against his grasp, kicking him with a savagery that would have sent a mortal to his knees.

  “Hush, lover,” he commanded without ever turning his head. “Halford and I are about to start negotiations.”

  “Pig. Monster. Beast.”

  Dante ignored the kicks that punctuated each word as he met Halford’s amused gaze.

  “A spirited thing,” the demon rasped.

  “A character flaw that could be easily corrected.”

  Halford flexed his bulging muscles. “Quite easily. Now let us be done with this. What is your price?”

  Dante made a show of considering. “A ready supply of blood, of course. In this day and age, it really is far too dangerous to be out hunting among the riffraff.”

  “Simple enough.”

  “And perhaps a few Shantong to keep my lair warm at night,” he murmured, deliberately choosing demons notorious for their insatiable sexual appetite.

  “Ah, a vampire with exquisite taste. Is that all?”

  Noting the triumph glittering in Halford’s eyes, Dante at last judged the moment ripe. The demon was consumed with thoughts of the glory as he offered the Phoenix to his dark Prince.

  “Actually, no. I shall also need this.” Loosening his hold upon Abby, he bent downward and with one smooth movement grasped the daggers hidden in his boots. In the same motion, he was rolling forward, the daggers already leaving his hands as he came back up to his feet.

  For a moment Halford merely stood silent in the darkness. It was almost as if he hadn’t yet noticed the dagger deeply planted in his middle eye or the other that stuck in his lower stomach. But whether he was in shock or indifferent to the danger, the deadly missiles had done their duty; with a rasping moan, he collapsed onto the vile rubbish that littered the alley.

  Dante never hesitated as he flowed forward. With efficiency, he sliced open Halford’s throat and then cut out his heart. He was never stupid enough to presume a demon was dead until he held its heart in his hand. At last satisfied, he reached to retrieve his daggers and traced his way back to Abby. She hastily backed away from his approach, her eyes wide with distress.

  “Abby.”

  “No.” She held out her hands. “Stay away from me.”

  Harshly smothering his flare of impatience, Dante forced himself to return the bloody daggers to his boots and to smooth back his tangled hair before taking another step closer. She was a breath away from bolting. One misstep and he would find himself having to chase her through the maze of alleys.

  A wickedly delicious thought under normal
circumstances, he ruefully conceded. Tonight, however, was anything but normal.

  “Abby, the demon is dead,” he soothed. “He will not harm you.”

  “And what of you?” she demanded in uneven tones. “You were going to sell me to that . . . thing. For blood.”

  “Don’t be a fool. Of course I wasn’t going to sell you.” He reached out to grasp her chin, forcing her to meet his steady gaze. “I merely wanted to distract Halford long enough to strike. In case you didn’t notice, he was somewhat larger than me. It seemed best to avoid an ugly brawl.”

  Her tongue peeked out to touch her lips. It was a tiny, unwitting gesture, and yet it made Dante’s fingers tighten upon her delicate skin. No matter what the danger about them, having her so close stirred a fierce, aching hunger. One that he feared wouldn’t be appeased any time soon.

  “Why should I trust you?” she rasped.

  His lips twisted as he lowered his hand and held it out. “Because for the moment, lover, you have no choice.”

  There was a long moment when she battled her inner demons before at last accepting that the demons currently hunting them were far more dangerous than him.

  Still, it was with obvious reluctance that she at last laid her hand in his.

  Not giving her time for second thoughts, Dante grasped her fingers and, with a tug, they were slipping through the darkness. He was startled by the flare of disappointment that touched him at her lingering fear of him. What else did he expect from a mortal?

  Unfortunately, the knowledge that she considered him only a step above the evil creatures chasing them, and maybe not even a whole step, more like a baby half step, left a hollow sensation within him.

  Turning down a side alley, Dante continued to brood upon the woman struggling to keep pace with his long strides. Brooding and tingling with awareness of her warm flesh touching his own. That no doubt explained why he was taken off guard when the hellhound abruptly sprang from the building overhead and knocked him to the ground.

  In a heartbeat, the deadly hound had him pinned to the ground, the acid from his teeth dripping onto Dante’s flesh with searing pain.

  “Bloody hell,” he muttered. “You smelly, slimy piece of crap.”