Inferno

by Bianca D'Arc

  “You’d better go eat. You need your strength.” Dante’s resigned amusement rubbed her the wrong way. She decided to give him the silent treatment and beat a hasty retreat toward the kitchen.

  She couldn’t move too fast with her injuries, but she walked quickly, with as much dignity as she could muster. She refused to acknowledge the sexy chuckle that followed her out of the living room.

  She found Duncan in a gourmet kitchen that sparkled. She realized that while Dante kept it for show, he certainly didn’t have need of a place to prepare food. Still, it was a nice room with comfortable seating. It had a large table and work area and Duncan had something simmering on the stove that smelled wonderful.

  Her stomach growled.

  Duncan made no comment as he dished up a large plate of thick beef stew for her. He served them both, then took the chair opposite her with a satisfied grin.

  “Dig in. I know you weres have healthy appetites.”

  He’d given her almost double the serving on his plate and while she felt hungry enough at the moment to eat the entire thing, mass quantities of food wasn’t her normal routine.

  “I’m only half were,” she said quietly as she began to eat. “I probably eat more than the average girl, but I don’t think I’m up to full blood status.”

  He looked up at her, tilting his head to the side, considering. “As I told Dante last night, you’re an enigma, Megan. I’ve never seen a soul like yours.”

  “Seen many, have you?” She decided to fight him with humor if possible. He was getting close to subjects she’d rather not discuss.

  “More than my share.” He sat back and seemed to concentrate on his meal.

  “If I’m an enigma, what are you? I’d say that’s a bit of the pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?” Offense was sometimes the best defense.

  “Touché, my dear.” He sent her a small smile. “I suppose you’ve earned the right to know who you’re dealing with. I’m half-human and half… Come on, won’t you even try to guess?”

  She liked a challenge. “Well, you’re not were. I’d recognize that right off. And you’re not like Dante. So that leaves a few other possibilities, all of which seem impossible.”

  “When you’ve exhausted all the possible answers, you have to start looking at the impossible ones. Come on, what’s your best guess?”

  “Well, I’ve heard stories about…um…fey. Though it’s said they rarely visit the mortal realm.”

  “True,” he said, beaming at her. “Still, your instincts are good. I’m half-fey.”

  “No way.”

  “Way.” His grin teased her.

  She sat back, her meal forgotten. She was sitting at the table with a real live elf!

  “No wonder you’re so magical. Even Dante seems a little in awe of your power.”

  “Och, he’ll get over that soon enough and revert to our old relationship. He was injured, you see, during the battle with the Venifucus mage. I had to give him a little sip of my blood to save him, and it’s left him a little…weird.”

  “I heard that!” came Dante’s shout from down the hall. Duncan chuckled.

  “Mind your own business,” Duncan called back.

  Megan felt like she was in a fraternity house with two overgrown frat brothers lobbing insults at each other. The very idea of it made her laugh. Frat boys with ramped up supernatural powers. Too funny.

  “No wonder he’s so compelling. He got a dose of your magical whammy when he drank your blood, huh? I thought fey blood could kill a vampire.”

  “Right you are about that. Full fey blood is too strong even for our immortal friend, but I’m a cat of a different color. I’m only half-fey. To a bloodletter, my blood is a rare delicacy. It gives them too much power, so as a general rule it’s not done to give them even a taste. This was a special circumstance. I knew Dante years ago and have always known him to be a man of honor.”

  “You’re watching him, right? I mean, that’s why you’re here. Isn’t it?”

  He saluted her with his water glass. “You think on your feet. I like that in a woman. To answer your question, yes, I’m keeping an eye on him until the effects wear off, but I would probably be here anyway. As I said, Dante and I knew each other long ago. I’ve been away from this realm a long time and now that I’m back, it’s time to catch up with old friends. If war is on the horizon, you can be sure that Dante d’Angleterre will be on the front lines, as he was in the past.”

  “And you’ll be right beside him, won’t you?” She could almost see the glow of power as a golden light around this strange half-fey warrior. It drew her, calling to her sense of honor, of what was right. She had to resist. She had a mission of her own, a chance to finally clear her family name, and she had to see it through to the end no matter the cost.

  Dante sauntered into the kitchen, a large box in his hands. It tinkled as he moved, telling her there was glass inside. The faint odor of fermented grapes and alcohol reached her sensitive nose. It was wine.

  “I haven’t forgotten that you called me weird, fairy boy,” Dante muttered under his breath as he headed toward the largest wine cooling unit she’d ever seen. He opened the glass door and began placing bottles from the box into the cooler.

  Duncan answered with a mock growl and launched a cloth napkin at Dante’s back. It slid off and hit the floor.

  “I’m not picking that up.” Dante pointedly ignored the scrap of white fabric at his feet. Megan couldn’t help it. She giggled.

  Dante turned and favored her with a wide grin. “I’m glad you find us amusing,” he said, and the funny thing was, she believed he meant it.

  “Sorry. You two just don’t act like I’d expect two powerful supernaturals to behave. Remember, I’m a loner. I don’t have much experience hanging out with your kind—or even my own kind.”

  “Why?” Duncan asked softly, reclaiming her attention. “Why do you walk alone, Megan? Where’s your family? Your pack?”

  “I have no pack. I never have. As for my family…they’re all gone. I’m the only one left of my line. After me, it will be no more.”

  She didn’t tell them that she thought perhaps that was a good thing. After all, the twin wolf werelords who had caused her line so much shame were long gone, but their descendants still paid the price. Megan would end it. She would repay their wrong and restore her family’s honor. Then the line would die out with her. It was sort of poetic really.

  “It’s not natural,” Duncan said quietly. “Were place great value on their family units, packs, clans and tribes.”

  She shrugged. “What can I say? I’m only half were, and I’ve never known what it was like to be part of something like that.”

  “And you never knew your father?” Finished stowing the wine, Dante moved to stand beside her. “Was it just you and your mother? No siblings?”

  “No. No brothers or sisters. Just mom and me. And now she’s gone.”

  “I’m sorry.” Dante crouched at her side, cupping her cheek in one warm, powerful hand. “I know what it is to lose loved ones and to be alone in the world.”

  “It isn’t so bad, really. I like my freedom. I get the feeling pack life would be too restrictive for me.”

  “Perhaps,” Dante agreed. “But you should have had the opportunity to find out. It’s one thing to choose to be alone. Another to have a solitary existence thrust upon you.”

  How well her ancestors knew that truth. They’d been ostracized from all were society for what they’d allowed to happen. Bad decisions and bad information had led them to a heinous mistake that could never be fully recompensed. For over a century, they and their descendants had worked to right their wrong, but the stain was deep and was hard to cleanse.

  Megan was almost there. This last mission and she’d been promised absolution for herself and for her family line. Her ancestors were gone. Nevertheless, she knew their spirits watched over her, waiting for the day she completed the task so they too, could be free to move on. It was
a huge responsibility to have resting on her shoulders, but she knew no other way. She’d been raised with the knowledge of her biggest task in this life and had worked steadily toward achieving her goal. Now it was almost in sight.

  She couldn’t let her feelings grow conflicted. She couldn’t get attached to Dante d’Angleterre. He was a job to her—a means to an end. He had to be. She couldn’t allow it to go any deeper, no matter how tempting he was.

  She drew back from him, taking her empty plate in hand and standing. She moved toward the sink. Duncan rose and intercepted her, taking the plate out of her hands.

  “I’ll wash up,” he said gently. “You still need to be careful of your injuries.”

  “Thanks.” She didn’t know where to go, but she needed space. “I’ll be in the living room if that’s okay.”

  Dante watched her as she left. She could feel his eyes on her all the way down the hall, and she didn’t breathe freely again until she was out of his view.

  “She’s running scared,” Dante said quietly after he’d closed the swinging kitchen door. “But from what?”

  Duncan turned from placing the clean plates on the draining board. “From you, I think. At least at the moment. You’re overwhelming the poor lass, my friend, and I have to wonder why. She’s were. She’s not for you.”

  “She’s only half were, Duncan,” he argued before he thought better of it.

  “And what’s her other half? Human? Or some mongrel mixture of human and something else? Even I can’t tell yet.” Duncan sighed. “It’ll come clear in time, I think. In the meantime, we need to keep an eye on her.”

  “Agreed.” He ground his teeth in frustration. “Can you sit with her for another hour or so? I have to check a few things.”

  “Sure. I’ll catch a nap later. Take all the time you need.”

  “Thanks.” Dante stalked from the room, avoiding the living room, and headed for his office. He had work to do.

  Chapter Four

  An hour later he was no closer to discovering where Megan had come from or exactly what she was. He had checked his messages however and discovered he’d been summoned. A summons from the Mistress wasn’t something he could ignore. He RSVP’d for himself and Megan. Maybe taking her out in public would rattle a few cages and elicit more information. It was worth a shot.

  He put out feelers with a few old friends, but it would take time to get a response. For now he was at a dead end. He could find no record of Megan anywhere. That in itself was suspicious. Then again, the few lone wolves he’d known in the past had been good at covering their tracks and hiding their presence from affiliated weres.

  He placed a few calls and ordered some items to be delivered. An hour later, his plans were set, and he had only to collect his date for the evening. He swept into the bedroom after only a perfunctory knock, a bulging garment bag in one hand, another bag containing matching shoes and accessories in the other.

  “Put this on. We’re going out.” Dante opened the garment bag and a swirling mass of fabric drifted out over his arms. It spilled to the foot of the bed where he spread the fabric before setting it down. When it settled, Megan realized it was a deep emerald ball gown—the kind she’d imagined in fairytales but had never seen in real life. It was something out of another era.

  “You’re kidding, right? Where do people actually wear something like that?”

  “At an honest-to-goodness vampire ball. I hope you know how to waltz.” The devilish smile that accompanied his words made her tummy flip.

  “No way.”

  “Way. Get dressed, tiger. If you’re good, I’ll teach you how to promenade old school.” He went out the door, grinning as he closed it behind him.

  Megan wouldn’t miss a chance like this for the world, regardless of the miserable duty she had to fulfill. She’d always been fascinated by the gentility of past centuries and couldn’t pass up the chance to dress in a silk gown and go to a ball with a man who had probably waltzed in the ballrooms of the haute ton.

  The dress was a dream, and it fit her like a glove. Dante had no doubt guessed at her size, and he was a very good guesser. Of course, a sexy man who’d lived for centuries no doubt picked up a thing or two along the way about women’s clothing. She’d bet he’d undressed more than a few women in his many years.

  The thought rankled but nothing could dampen her spirits once she got a look at herself in the gorgeous silk gown. She felt like Cinderella at the ball. She’d never worn anything so exquisite. She twirled and giggled like a schoolgirl only composing herself before she went out the door and descended the grand staircase.

  Dante waited for her at the bottom, a long, slim, black velvet box in his hands. Her breath caught at the look in his eyes when he saw her dressed in the gown he’d selected for her. She floated down the stairs to stand before him.

  “You are a vision, my dear.” He bent over her hand, kissing her knuckles. “It only needs one thing to complete the look.”

  He opened the box, presenting her with it. She gasped at the rainbows of light twinkling in reflection off a myriad of diamonds and emeralds. There was a necklace, earrings and a bracelet. The exquisitely matched set had the look of antiquity.

  “They’re beautiful.” Her voice was breathy and hushed as he lifted the bracelet from the box to drape around her wrist. He fastened the catch and then moved behind her to do the same with the necklace.

  She’d put her hair up for the occasion so only a few loose tendrils of her hair teased her neck. Dante blew them out of his way with a soft breath that made her shiver. The platinum of the necklace was cool against her neck but warmed rapidly, as did her entire body with Dante so close.

  “Put on the earrings.” He handed her the old fashioned dangles as he stepped around to look at her. She complied while he watched, the fire in his eyes making her breathless. “I was right,” he said as she fastened the second earring and faced him. “Emeralds suit you, Megan. You’ll be the belle of the ball.”

  She didn’t argue though she was certain she didn’t look that good. Oh, she admitted she looked better than she ever had. She cleaned up well for a half-breed wolf. There was no doubt in her mind though, wherever he was taking her, other women would be lined up for his attention.

  He was dashing in white tie and tails. He looked as if he’d been born to model formal wear, and she had to keep reminding herself that he was just a job. There could be no future in anything between them. She had to do her work, report back to her keeper and then she would be free to go on her way.

  “So where exactly are we going?” She needed to bring this dazzling moment to an end and focus on her objective.

  “Even I have to dance attendance on the Mistress from time to time. She rules this area and when she issues an invitation, it is always wiser to accept than to decline.”

  “Mistress? Not Master? I thought your kind had Masters in every region.”

  “In rare instances, women hold the office. Because the position is won by prevailing in combat, few women have the stomach for being constantly sized up and challenged at the first sign of weakness, or the desire to even try to keep the rest of us in line.”

  “So what is this Mistress like?”

  “The New York Mistress is an exceptional female with a keen mind for political intrigue. I’d say she thinks her job is fun, having met her a few times in the past. She has a somewhat perverse sense of humor.” Dante seemed amused by his own words.

  He let her precede him out the door to a waiting stretch limousine. Duncan was nowhere to be seen, so she assumed he hadn’t been invited. For that matter, she hadn’t been invited. She surmised from their clothing that she was the obligatory date for whatever social occasion demanded formal attire from a century past.

  The limo took them to a downtown edifice that had once been a church. Not just a church but something only a little less grand than a full-fledged cathedral. This place had gargoyles on the battlements and carvings of all kinds gracing its stone walls.
Even from a distance, Megan could sniff out the fact that not all the gargoyles peering over the crowd were made of stone.

  Shivers coursed over her spine when they entered through massive carved wood and steel doors into a cavernous vestibule. They didn’t get far before an officious man with a list spoke to Dante. He looked down his nose at Megan until he got a good look at her, then his expression changed. It was almost comical how he reacted once he realized she was were.

  The majordomo—that’s what she assumed his function was—was a vampire. The shiver returned when Megan realized she was literally surrounded by vamps of every description, all staring at her as they paused in the vestibule before being announced. The majordomo’s counterpart stood at the entry to the main room, announcing each couple or singleton who passed under his watchful eye.

  It was like something out of a novel. Megan had never seen the like before, and she marveled at the way these vamps revived the traditions of a century ago and made them seem perfectly normal. For many of them, she realized, this was once the way they had really lived. It boggled the mind.

  Dante kept a tight hold of her hand, secure in the crook of his arm as they moved closer to the herald who would announce them to the larger room. Megan could hear the sound of many voices, the clink of glasses and the low murmur of stringed instruments being tuned to concert pitch at the far end of the massive structure.

  “What is this place?” she dared whisper to Dante as they waited to be announced.

  “Well, as I’m sure you can see, it used to be a church, but even houses of worship fall on hard times once in a while. The Mistress bought it and renovated it, removing most of the pews and polishing the marble. She apparently got the idea from a nightclub in the Village. The owners of the nightclub gutted the old church they bought and put in separate floors for different kinds of music. This place is pretty much the way it was, except for making room for dancing and removing the altar, replacing it with a much larger stage area. That’s where the orchestra for tonight will be seated I believe.”