by Bianca D'Arc
“Good point,” Duncan agreed. “I think that’s all we’ll find in here. You two finish up, and I’ll go check the rest of the rooms. Meet me at the entrance, and I’ll guide you through the rest of the house.”
Dante browsed a bit more, then began to shut down the computer system, leaving no trace that he had been scanning it while Megan sorted through some papers and looked at the rest of the bookshelves and cabinets.
“You know, for an old guy, you’re surprisingly good with computers.” She felt comfortable enough to tease him as he stood. He paused for a moment in front of her.
“I used to have a lot of time on my hands to learn new things before I met a puzzling little werewolf.” He lifted his hand to caress her cheek as they looked deep into each other’s eyes. She wanted him to kiss her.
His head lowered…
A crash sounded from the other end of the house, breaking them apart. The clash of steel against something no doubt equally as hard rang out a split second later. Dante was already in motion, a preternatural blur of speed as he raced to his friend’s side. Megan wasn’t far behind, but her were speed was no match for the vampire.
She discovered Duncan on the threshold of the kitchen, battling against what looked like a dozen heavily armed ghost figures. They were darkly transparent, wearing plate armor of a bygone age. Megan didn’t understand how, but she thought she might be looking at the ghosts of dead warriors, somehow held in thrall by the sorceress.
She froze, uncertain what to do. Duncan was holding them off¾barely. They came at him one at a time through the kitchen doorway. When they saw Dante arrive on the scene, they started walking through walls.
Megan screamed when one lunged at Dante with his blade, coming right through the paisley wallpaper, taking him by surprise. He grunted with the impact as the ghostly sword stabbed into his abdomen. Blood shone wet and slick against his dark clothing. Megan feared for him and for Duncan. She called on her wolf and halted in half-shift. The quarters were too tight for her to be able to do much. Her half-shift form was just too big. The ghost warriors had no problem maneuvering through walls, but she sure as hell did.
“We have to get out of here!” she roared through elongated teeth. A sword poked through the wall to her left, and she swiped at the ghost’s hand with her claws. They went straight through the incorporeal being, much to her dismay. Dante, likewise, was having little effect on the ghost warriors. Only Duncan’s magical sword seemed to have any staying power against Siobhan’s gruesome army.
“Retreat!” Duncan shouted, covering Dante as they ran for the door. The phantoms weren’t far behind.
Megan burst through the door only to find more ghost warriors converging on the path to the gate. Even with all their speed, it would be close. Dante was clutching his side and leaning heavily against Duncan as he did his best to fend off further attacks. Megan bared her teeth, leading the way to the gate that was their only hope.
She took point, moving fast, gauging how quickly she thought Duncan and Dante could follow. She didn’t want to get separated from them. These phantoms would take advantage of any mistake. If it came down to it, she would cover Duncan’s back as best she could if they had to make a stand.
If it took magic to touch the phantoms, she would call on her own. She’d struck out at that first one using her claws alone. That was usually more than enough. But if she had to confront any others, she’d expend the precious power to put a magical whammy behind her strikes. It would drain her and it wouldn’t be much magic compared to what Duncan was throwing around, but it was the best she could do. It would have to be enough.
They ran for the gate, the phantoms gaining on them with every stride. Megan reached it first, hitting the latch with all her half-shift strength. It resisted at first, then slid open as she put her magic behind it. She burst out onto the sidewalk, jumping over the cracked square directly in front of the gate, just in case. She held the door for Duncan and Dante, then slammed it shut behind them once they were clear. Thankfully, the ghost army couldn’t get through the fence.
She breathed a sigh of relief until she realized she was on a public street in half-shift. Looking both ways, she leapt into the shadow of some trees and returned to human form. Her stretchy clothes were a little misshapen but still decent as she went to Dante’s side, tucking herself under his arm. Together, she and Duncan helped him to the car, assisting him into the back seat.
“Give me the keys,” Megan requested. “I’m taking us to my place. He’s hurt too badly, and it’s too close to dawn. My house isn’t far. We can stay there for the day.”
Duncan took the keys from Dante’s pocket and handed them to her solemnly. He said nothing as he climbed into the back seat beside his friend, applying pressure to the wound that still bled in Dante’s side.
They rode in silence for about twenty minutes. Megan was never more thankful to see her small house set in a small patch of trees. The old bungalow was located on a half acre her mother had bought as an investment many years ago. Her family had never lived in this house, but it felt like home because of the family connection.
There were neighbors on either side. Luckily, they were most likely asleep at this late hour. Megan pulled into the gravel drive and parked the car as close as she could to the door. Between the two of them, she and Duncan managed to get Dante out of the car and into the small house.
“Please come in,” she invited, remembering Dante’s need for tradition as she entered her home. “Bedroom is to the left. I’ll get the first aid kit.”
Megan rushed around her house gathering supplies. She had a first aid kit under one arm along with a roll of paper towels, a box of wet wipes and one of the few bottles of wine she’d had tucked in the back of her refrigerator. It wasn’t anything like the rare vintages Dante kept, but it would do in a pinch.
She brought everything into the bedroom. Duncan helped Dante to the bed, releasing his heavy weight onto the springy mattress. Dante bounced with a groan as he held his side, which had started bleeding again.
He grabbed the bottle of wine without comment and pulled the cork out with his teeth, swigging straight from the half-full bottle. His usually impeccable manners were no doubt on hold due to his injury.
Draining the bottle, he gave a long sigh and rested his head against the padded headboard, closing his eyes as Duncan began cleaning his wounds. He said not a word while Duncan went about the painful business, merely enduring what had to be endured.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Duncan reassured her. “He could probably handle this without my help, but after all the traps we found in and around that house I want to be sure nothing snuck in under our guard when we weren’t looking.”
“Like what?” Megan was almost afraid to ask.
“Silver, for one thing, though he probably would have had a violent reaction by now. Of course, there are delayed methods of delivery, which is why I’m checking every detail. There’s also a possibility of magical contamination. When you’re dealing with a dark mage, especially one that dabbles in the black magics of other realms, you can never be too careful.”
Duncan continued his work with Megan’s occasional assistance. She handed him things and fetched whatever he needed when asked. It didn’t really take that long, yet it felt like ages before Dante was patched up and resting comfortably in her bed.
She’d brought him another bottle of wine from her refrigerator and he was drinking it—more slowly this time, which she took as a good sign. Duncan spent a few minutes in the attached bathroom, cleaning the few small cuts on his hands and face. The rest of his body had been protected by that amazing glowing armor.
He reentered the room and sat at the foot of the bed. She was glad she’d opted for the king size. Even so, the two big men dwarfed even that giant piece of furniture. She’d never quite realized how small her bedroom was before seeing these two in it.
She sat on the edge of the bed at Dante’s side, glad for a minute of quiet after
the crazy night they’d just had. He’d been amazing through it all, steadfast and brave. He’d impressed her even more than before, and Duncan had blown her right out of the water. The armor, the sword, the incredible magics he had wielded. She’d never really seen him in action before, and his capabilities boggled the mind.
“So what are you, really?” She voiced the question uppermost in her mind. “I mean, what’s with the magical armor and that wicked sword? That’s like nothing I’ve ever even heard of before.”
Duncan regarded her with serious eyes. He seemed to consider before finally responding.
“I am a Chevalier de la Lumière. A Knight of the Light. We are an ancient order sworn to serve the Light and preserve what is just and good against those who would prefer the darkness of evil. We serve the Lady in all her forms in the many realms we inhabit. Most of us are fey and spend our time in many different realms. There are a special, chosen few in each realm who take the oath and serve the Mother Goddess and the cause of good. It is a special honor and a charge that lasts until death.”
“Wow. So that’s how and why you were able to test Dante when you first saw him again.”
“You’re quick,” Duncan complimented her. “Yes, I had to make absolutely sure he was still on the right side.”
Megan looked from Dante to Duncan and back. “You took a big chance.”
“He’s worth it,” Duncan said casually, but she could feel there was nothing truly casual about his words. They made Dante sit up straighter, despite his wounds.
“You’re just lucky I didn’t turn on you,” Dante chided. “In the intervening years I could’ve become Satan himself for all you knew.”
Duncan smiled easily. “I had more faith in you than that, my lad. I was willing to bet my life on it, and you didn’t disappoint me at all.”
“Thank the Lady,” Megan breathed. The extent of the men’s relationship was driven home to her.
She’d thought they were close friends, but before tonight she hadn’t fully grasped the fact that they were longtime comrades in arms. They’d put their lives on the line for each other many times in the past and would do so again if the situation called for it.
They had a deep bond. They were as close as brothers, willing to sacrifice themselves for one another. They had each other’s backs.
Megan had heard of such deep friendships. Of course, she’d never experienced anything even close in her solitary prowl through life. It was a privilege to observe and an even deeper honor to be included—just for this short time—in their lives and work.
“You should rest.” She made to get up, but Dante’s hand stilled her.
“Stay,” he asked in a rough voice. “There’s room enough for all three of us here and as long as you cover that window, it should be safe enough for me for the day.”
Megan wasn’t sure. She looked from Dante to Duncan, finally giving in. She was bone weary and wasn’t looking forward to camping out on her lumpy couch. She wouldn’t subject Duncan to that indignity either.
“All right.” She sighed heavily, standing and heading for her dresser. “I’ll shower quick and get ready for bed. Just give me a sec.”
“Don’t worry.” Dante patted the middle of the bed. “We’ll keep your spot open for you. Hurry back.”
Megan took a speed shower. She was so tired she couldn’t work up the energy to do more than swipe at her arms and legs with a soapy washcloth. She paid a little more attention to the cuts she’d received, but was too weary to fuss. In all likelihood, with her were constitution they would be healed in a few hours.
She yawned as she stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel. One was placed in her hands, and her eyes shot open to meet Duncan’s amused gaze.
“You didn’t think you’d get away without an examination of your injuries, did you?”
“I-I-” She was stuttering and couldn’t seem to get a full sentence out. She cut her losses, closed her mouth and held the towel up against her body.
“Come now, lass. Sit here while I patch you up.” He patted the vanity top next to the sink, which he’d already covered with a towel.
Seeing little recourse, she jumped up to sit before him. He took the towel she clutched out of her hands and gently began drying her body with long sweeps of the prickly terrycloth against her skin. He stepped between her knees, spreading her legs while he moved closer and she grew warm, but her body was too drained to respond fully. Her eyelids drooped as he made her feel more comfortable.
“I can see you’re running on fumes, lass. This will only take a moment and then I’ll carry you back to that big bed so we can all sleep off this night’s adventure.”
He touched her with gentle hands, doing a more thorough job of cleaning her wounds than she had managed. He applied disinfectant he’d brought with him from the first aid kit. She suspected he also did a magical inspection to be sure she hadn’t been contaminated by any of the evil things they’d encountered at the sorceress’s house.
By the time he was satisfied, she was yawning again. She couldn’t help it. She was physically and mentally exhausted. No matter how attractive Duncan was or how provoking his touch, she just couldn’t work up enough enthusiasm to make it worth his while. And without Dante, it didn’t feel quite right. She would examine that startling thought later—when she wasn’t so beat.
From the haggard look of Duncan, he wasn’t in much better shape. When he seemed satisfied that her wounds would be all right, he scooped her into his strong arms and carried her into the other room.
He laid her on the bed next to Dante. Dante had removed his shirt and pants while she’d been in the shower and as she watched, Duncan stripped too. He climbed in under the covers on the other side of the bed and turned off the light.
She only gave a passing thought to the fact that she was in the middle of her king-sized bed, flanked on each side by two of the most handsome, magical beings she had ever known. Stranger things had happened, but she didn’t know where or when.
“Something must be done. I can’t lose another child. Not after Patrick disappeared without a trace!” Una Vabian slammed her hand down on the antique dining table in the family’s spacious Chappaqua home.
“Relax my dear,” her husband counseled. “I think I have just the plan to rid ourselves of two problems at once. Poferov has threatened us for the last time.”
Una’s cold eyes turned calculating. “You think we can take him on?”
“Not us. The bloodletter. Let’s wrap him up in a bow and deliver him to d’Angleterre. See what happens. Either way, we win. If Poferov prevails, d’Angleterre will be dead. If the vampire wins, the threat of Poferov is removed from our family and we can go after d’Angleterre without concern for repercussions.”
“Brilliant!” Una clapped her hands together in glee. “I knew there was a reason I married you. You’re a genius, my dear.”
“We just need to figure out a way to get them together. I believe the rest will take care of itself.”
“I have the perfect solution,” Una purred triumphantly. “We’ll invite Poferov to the yacht. He was always impressed with opulent vessels. We’ll say it’s a meeting to discuss how we’ve reined in Siobhan. He’ll think we’ll be there to lick his boots but in reality, he’ll be confronting the bloodletter.”
“An excellent idea. Now we just have to come up with a way to get the vampire to attack. Do you think he’s discovered who his pet wolf’s keeper is yet? That might be enough motivation given the scene we heard about at the vampire ball. He’s kept her with him from all accounts. Perhaps she’s ingratiated herself—or perhaps he’s discovered she was sent to spy on him and he’s keeping her around to get at the one who sent her.” The Vabian patriarch shrugged elegantly. “It really doesn’t matter. What does matter is that he takes the bait and confronts Poferov once we get him to the yacht.”
Chapter Eleven
When Megan finally woke, it was late afternoon. Dante was wrapped around her in his slee
p, his warm body comforting her. After a moment of disorientation, she realized she was in her own bedroom and the events of the night before came back in startling clarity.
Duncan was no longer beside them, and she noticed her bedroom window had been covered with black plastic garbage bags that looked like they were taped together with sturdy packing tape. Not a single sunbeam penetrated. Duncan must’ve taken care of that, but she couldn’t remember when. She’d been too out of it last night.
She figured Dante would sleep a couple more hours until sunset, so she gently extricated herself from his arms. He mounted a faint protest but didn’t fully wake as she slid from the bed. As quietly as possible, she gathered a few of her things and went into the bathroom, not turning on the light until she had the door firmly closed.
She cleaned up and dressed, moving slowly, her muscles sore. When she came out of the bathroom, Dante hadn’t moved and Duncan was still nowhere to be seen. She tiptoed out of the bedroom, closing the door softly behind her and headed for the kitchen.
Coffee. The heavenly aroma reached her sensitive nose, and she’d bet good money Duncan was responsible for it. Sure enough, he’d made himself at home in her kitchen. Coffee was ready and waiting for her and it looked like he was gathering ingredients to do some serious cooking.
“What would you like for breakfast, lass? Today, I am your short order cook.” He saluted her with a spatula, making her laugh.
“Can you do eggs over easy and some bacon?”
“Your wish is my command.” He turned back to the stove with a flourish and began to cook breakfast.
She helped a little, toasting bread and gathering condiments from the cabinets and refrigerator. When she went to set the table she got a surprise. On her battered kitchen table were the three grimoires Duncan had taken from Siobhan’s house. She paused, startled by their appearance.
Duncan finished up, turned off the stove and delivered the plate of bacon and eggs into her hands. She looked at him, only then realizing she’d stood motionless for more than a few minutes.
