QUINTUS

by Kym Grosso

  “Yes, I was privy to your little show. Protective I see. But where is her Alpha? I assume she’s not one of Jax’s.”

  “I’m Hunter’s.” The lie rolled off Gabriella’s lips, and inwardly she cringed, shocked at her own words.

  “Really? Well then…I’m surprised at this,” Absinthe said.

  “She’s new to my pack,” a low voice rumbled.

  Gabriella’s eyes blinked up to gaze upon the familiar handsome Alpha. Her walls fell in an instant, his wolf commanding hers. She resisted his call, aware she had no pack. Yet her wolf betrayed her, crouching in submission.

  She looked to Quintus who kept his focus trained on Absinthe. Easy, bella. A wave of calming energy flowed through her as he squeezed her hand.

  “So the Alpha owns the little wolf.” She laughed and turned to Hunter. “You’re okay with the vampire claiming her as he does?”

  “Affairs of the heart are not my concern. She does as she wishes. She’s not my mate,” Hunter replied.

  “And Jax?” Absinthe asked.

  “As you know, he and Finn are otherwise engaged. He trusted me to lead this event on his behalf. Dissension in the Big Apple isn’t good for any of us. I’d hate to have to send some of my wolves to help Jax kick ass in New York. So here I am. Besides, who doesn’t enjoy New York City? Perhaps I’ll take in a show.”

  “You’re an interesting lot, I’ll give you that,” Absinthe said, raising a disbelieving eyebrow. “Well, it’s good that little wolf has her Alpha, because Quintus is going to be quite the busy bee.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Viktor asked as he approached, his tone cold.

  “It’s a surprise,” she cackled with a tilt of her head. “I’m afraid junior won’t be very happy, but Quintus? Let’s just say you’ll be quite happy. And busy.”

  “Enough with the games, Absinthe,” Quintus growled.

  “Look, I know your coven must have some super witchy, voodoo, get out the cauldron and dance naked kind of thing to do, so a little less chatting. Full moon and all. Gotta go soon,” Hunter told her.

  Gabriella’s heart pounded in her chest. What the hell did the witch have for her vampire?

  “One question before we leave. The outside covens. There’s no chance you might miss one of these witches? Maybe, let’s say, they blend into your coven. New witches. Things go on in the underground all the time…even with the vamps. Rumblings. Rumor is that there’s a particularly rough coven from Salem. Circe.”

  Gabriella froze at the name, taking note that Quintus didn’t mention the high priestess. Absinthe smiled broadly in response, her eyes cold as ice.

  “I have a private table in a blood room. Care to join me?” she asked.

  “Let’s go,” he agreed.

  Gabriella’s focus darted to Viktor and Hunter who both moved to follow.

  “We all have a stake in this. Agreed?” Quintus asked, but his tone commanded.

  Absinthe gave a subtle eye roll, a hiss escaping her lips. “Yes. This way.”

  Gabriella held tight to Quintus’ hand as they navigated through the sea of gyrating bodies. The scent of burning sage and sweat drifted in the air. The heat from strangers’ bare skin emanated onto hers. Tunneling through the crowd, she breathed in relief as they approached an open area in the corner. She caught sight of a tattered white linen cloth swaying, light pricking through the porous fabric. Cold air rushed into her lungs as she pressed into the stark white hallway. The walls reflected bright light that shone down from the ceiling. Gabriella calmed as the pounding music went silent, their footsteps echoed as they made their way through an endless labyrinth of winding tunnels.

  “Ah, here we are,” she heard Absinthe announce, the hallway abruptly flashing into a red haze.

  Gabriella’s pulse raced, an intense magick rushing over her. Easy, little one. She blinked, realizing he’d communicated to her again without speaking. She shoved the uncomfortable realization to the back of her mind, her wolf warning her of danger.

  “We’ve arrived,” Absinthe declared.

  Gabriella steeled her nerves and straightened her spine as she strode through the threshold into the dimly lit room. Lined with faux leather sofas and white candles, the cozy room appeared innocuous until she spied the sanguine-colored tubes that sprouted from the circular teak coffee table.

  Quintus nodded, and she slowly inched her way onto the royal blue cushion, keeping close to her vampires. The door slammed shut, and Absinthe reached for a chilled glass of champagne that sat near an ice bucket to her left.

  “Too many prying ears out in the open.”

  “Agreed,” Quintus said. “The Circe coven. What do you know?”

  “They’re purists. Have been in the U.S. for nearly three hundred years but have mostly flown under the radar.”

  “They must have a special kind of broom.” Viktor gave a half smirk, his eyes not revealing a hint of humor.

  “Funny, pretty boy.” Absinthe took a deep breath. “They mostly keep to themselves. Inbred some say. In my opinion, they’re dangerous. Always have been. I’m not saying my coven comes without drama but Jesus, you don’t need to sign up with a cult that won’t let their witches even look at another breed. And when I use the term cult, that’s exactly what it is.”

  Cult. Gabriella had always thought them evil killers, but she’d never considered that she’d grown up in a cult. Scared, intimidated, it was all she’d ever known. Don’t trust them. They’ll kill you. No outsiders were ever welcome. She began to question her deep-seated fear of other covens.

  “They’re violent,” Quintus commented.

  “Well yes. I suppose. Now wait…are you trying to insinuate it’s them who’s causing the fuss?” she asked, her voice raised.

  “I’m not saying anything. I’m just asking questions. Questions that perhaps only a high priestess would know the answers to.”

  “I’m not hearing any questions,” she challenged.

  “Let’s just say that perhaps it was their coven. That maybe they had a spell of some sort that was riling the supernaturals. And maybe they were threatening certain members of their organizations. How would one most quickly go about…” Quintus went silent and shrugged, raising an eyebrow at her, “ridding themselves of such a problem?”

  “Theoretically?” The corner of her mouth upturned slightly.

  “Theoretically.” Quintus gave a squeeze to Gabriella’s hand but kept his focus on Absinthe.

  “I suppose you’d need an artifact to disable the high priestess. It’s her direction that steers the cult. For example, if you had a car that had been totaled, there would be no other choice but to replace it.”

  “Replace it?” Gabriella failed to hold her silence as her emotions bubbled to the surface. The coven had already killed her mother and was trying to kill her.

  “Yes, I’d prefer to think of it as replace.”

  “But do you honestly think that will be the end…it will never end as long as she’s alive. You need to kill her.”

  Absinthe burst out in laughter and soon after Viktor joined her, amused by Gabriella’s statement.

  “This isn’t a joke. She needs to die.” Gabriella grew annoyed at the conversation. She pressed down her heels, readying to leave, when Quintus settled a strong arm around her shoulders and placed a kiss to her head. Fucking hell, she was about to lose her shit. She shook her head, glaring at the blonde witch.

  “Ah, your wolf is bloodthirsty.” A pregnant pause filled the room. She gave a cool smile, her gaze slowly moving from one person to the next until she settled on Quintus. “But of course, she’s correct. I prefer to remain politically correct but yes, I don’t expect she’d take to her replacement well. Therefore, it must end in her death. Only then do you have a chance to change the followers. But you must be careful, because there will be stragglers who never change their minds. Who will seek retribution.”

  “How do we do it? What do we need?” Quintus asked.

  “Although they
settled here in the States, they’ve been around for quite some time. The origin of their coven is Paris. Dated back to the Middle Ages.”

  “How did they manage to fly under the radar? I was in Europe during the Middle Ages and I don’t recall their name.”

  “They were in their infancy. I heard they use bone dust in their spells. But if you ask me, it’s why they are the way they are.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Twelfth century. There were only a handful. They embrace earth’s magick, keeping their powers on the down low.”

  “What happened to them?” Quintus asked.

  “What happened to anyone back then? You know the way of the inquisition.” Absinthe sipped her drink.

  “We were on the move. We couldn’t stay in groups. The idea of what we do today would have been a death sentence. No more than three or four of us traveled at a time, often hiding in tunnels, the woods.” As he spoke, Quintus’ gaze went to his brother, recalling the difficult times.

  Gabriella watched Viktor intently. His curved smile disappeared, his expression solemn. Quintus held an ancient power that had been earned through centuries of solitude. She considered that it was only recently he’d been able to build his network of vampires, to connect openly with other supernaturals.

  “Yes, well. No one’s really sure when they left but some say they hid the body of the first witch in the catacombs among the millions of other bones. They say she’s so well hidden no one will ever find her. As you know, humans are limited to the areas they are allowed to access. In the darkest tunnels even supernaturals steer clear of the evil that lurks under the earth. Speaking of which…” Absinthe fished a cell phone from her bustier and tapped on the glass. The door creaked open, but the stranger kept his face turned until it hinged shut. “Everyone. I have a delightful surprise.”

  “Witches sure know how to throw a party,” the newcomer commented.

  As he turned toward the group, the lights flicked onto his face, and Gabriella caught sight of his devilish smile. She sucked a breath as his dark energy smacked into her. The fiery spirit danced over her skin, leaving a distinctive tingle. Demon, she heard Quintus say, but as her eyes flashed to him, he hadn’t spoken out loud. He remained focused on the mysterious guest.

  “Everyone’s so quiet…cat got your tongue?” The handsome stranger strode across the room with confidence and sat in a chair to the left of Absinthe.

  “We may not have many rules, witch, but you know damn well demons aren’t welcome. What the hell is this?” Hunter asked, his voice raised. He went to push onto his feet but went still as Quintus held up a hand.

  “Demon. You’re something else, though, aren’t you?” the dominant vampire guessed.

  “This is some bullshit, Absinthe. I don’t know what you’re trying to pull but we’re all out of here,” Hunter said.

  “Your power holds a unique energy. Hybrid, perhaps. Si?” Quintus continued. Although he spoke in a calm manner, Gabriella noted the tick of his jaw as he cocked his head in distrust.

  “Clever vampire,” he responded.

  “Explain. Now,” Quintus demanded.

  “No need to get testy. True, I’m a demon, but I still harbor human tendencies. As you can imagine, I’m not popular in Hell. Something about killing for fun doesn’t quite appeal to me as it should. Doesn’t stop me on occasion but just doesn’t do it for me if you know what I’m saying. Can’t seem to shake those pesky human attributes. I’m a lesser level demon. Technically I’m half demon. So no need to fly into a bat over my presence.” He stared at Quintus in defiance.

  “I’d like to introduce Thorn Rachille.” Absinthe ran her palms over her lap and smoothed her dress, raising her gaze to establish eye contact with each person in the room. “You see, he’s been having his own set of difficulties, and I did what any self-respecting witch would do.”

  “Kill him. That’s what you should have done,” Viktor commented, his brows furrowed in disbelief.

  “But of course she wouldn’t kill him, would you?” Quintus asked her, his mouth drawn tight. “He has something on you. Perhaps one of your witches. He’s not particularly powerful by demon standards but he could serve a purpose. Witches.” He blew out a breath and shook his head. “Hoarding.”

  Gabriella’s head spun, considering her own mother’s tendency to collect. Absinthe must have needed him.

  “Exactly. You collect it all, don’t you? Wolf hair. Scales from the rarest fish. Vampire fangs. Ingredients saved for a spell you don’t even know you’re going to use.”

  “A girl has to be prepared,” Absinthe admitted.

  “You know, if I wasn’t so incredibly talented, I might be insulted,” Thorn commented, a wry grin on his face. “Your group is quite interesting. A wolf, a witch and a vampire walked into a bar. Do you know that one?”

  “What is he doing here?” Hunter asked, his fists clenched.

  “But her…” Thorn’s attention settled on Gabriella. “She’s very unique, isn’t she?”

  Gabriella’s stomach clenched as the demon pointed at her. A rush of hot energy blasted towards her, and she closed her eyes, ramming a shield up, forcing it back onto him.

  “Ah…that’s lovely. Look what she can do,” the demon laughed. “She’s something all right.”

  “She’s a wolf. Now leave her the fuck alone or you’re going to be leaving here in little pieces,” Quintus growled at Thorn, and then turned to Gabriella. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she replied, anger pulsing through her veins. Whatever this creature was doing here was evil. She sensed the wispy edge of a dark intention, but she couldn’t tell if it was truly coming from the demon or from an outside force. The trace amounts of energy lingered around her, and she scented hints of rose petals, leaving her with the impression of a feminine owner.

  “You’re not as weak as they perceive you…” Thorn’s words trailed off, waiting on her to provide her name.

  “Don’t do that again. Ever.” Gabriella gritted her teeth, refusing to introduce herself.

  “You seem quite close to the vampire,” the demon noted. “Come on now, love. Tell me your name.”

  “You don’t need to know who she is. All you need to know is that she belongs to me.” Quintus stood, taking Gabriella by the hand. His gaze went to the high priestess. “This meeting’s jumped the rails. Absinthe, I’m going to give you a little piece of advice. Stay away from demons. They’re not good for your health.”

  “Half-demon. It’s cool though.” He shrugged, giving a roll of his eyes. “Haters gonna hate.”

  “You’re a demon. It’s not like there’s a middle ground. You’re from Hell,” Gabriella shot at him. Her beast paced, her pulse raced faster.

  “Thanks for pulling together this party but we’re done,” Quintus told Absinthe. “I’ll make sure mine play nice. If you hear anything at all about outsiders, whisperings of the Circe coven, I want to know yesterday.”

  “I have a gift. Thorn has brought it,” she replied coyly.

  “Absinthe. Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s a lovely thought but totally unnecessary.” Quintus shook his head and turned to leave.

  “Of course it is,” she responded as she rose and stepped toward the door. Her gown trailed behind her. “But you know when you happen to trip upon the perfect gift for someone…well, I simply couldn’t say no. As much as I appreciate your advice about demons, Thorn is his own beast.”

  “We’ve got to go,” Quintus insisted.

  Gabriella squeezed his hand. Please. My wolf. As she closed her eyes and spoke, she prayed he’d sense her desperation. Her eyes widened at his response.

  “Tonight’s full moon,” Quintus said. “Hunter. Your wolves need to run.”

  “Tru dat, brother. I’m so over the show tonight. It’s been real.” Hunter shoved to his feet and crossed the room, not bothering to shake the demon’s hand. He stopped in front of the witch, his fiery eyes on hers. “For the record. I’m with Quint on this one. There
is no such thing as a good demon. You’re gonna get burnt.”

  “Patience, lovelies,” Absinthe commented. With a firm grip, she grasped the handle, swinging the door wide open, sharing her surprise.

  Gabriella’s breath caught at the sight of the petite female standing in the hallway. A rush of Quintus’ emotions slammed through her…shock…grief…guilt. As fast as it came, it disappeared, his shields shutting her out of his thoughts. He knows her. Although he held tight to her hand, his eyes remained focused on the woman. His heavy breath gave away his emotion. Love. He’d loved this woman. Stunned, Gabriella yanked away her hand from his.

  “Mao,” he whispered and quickly focused his attention on Absinthe. “What the hell is this? Is this some sort of sick spell? Who is this woman?”

  “You know who she is, my dear Quintus.”

  “Mao is dead. I watched her fall to her death.”

  “Ah, well, apparently she’s not,” Thorn commented.

  “What the hell do you have to do with this?” Quintus demanded.

  “I don’t take trips to Hell often. Was there on unrelated business. Purely out of necessity. I haven’t been in a while and took a wrong turn. Can happen to anyone. Opened up the wrong dungeon door and there she was.” Thorn gave a loud sigh, raising his eyebrows. “I found her in a rather unsavory place. Eighth dimension of the court of demons.”

  “If she’s in Hell, did it ever occur for you to leave her there? Maybe she’s not who she says she is,” Viktor suggested.

  “You don’t understand. She was in a section where the innocents reside. And she was asking for you. And so…I contacted Absinthe. No offense, but you’re not the kind of warm and fuzzy vamp I’m looking to help. To be honest, this could have gone either way. I could have easily left her there, but I owe Absinthe a favor.”

  “A favor for what?” Quintus asked.

  “Ah well, you know we all need a bit of witch’s help every now and then. It happens. Debt’s clear now. She seemed to think you were in love with this waif but it all seems a little anticlimactic now.”

  “Quintus.” The female lifted her eyes to the vampire. “Please…what’s going on? I’m…”