by Anthology
She frowned. “Okay.”
“When I got here, I could sense the wards. Couldn’t you?”
She shook her head. “I’ve never picked up on them like you guys have. Maybe it’s the mixed blood in me. Wards don’t bother me, not usually. Sometimes, every now and then I can feel one, but not really.”
“So you felt nothing when you came into the house?” Grayson asked, his brows raised.
She shook her head again. “No. Why?”
“When I got here to check on him, I could practically hear them humming, but it mixed with the hum of the electrical lines. I felt it going in, like it sucked me in rather than wanted to keep me out. I’m wondering if that was his plan, to keep her here?”
“Then why isn’t she here?”
“She’s that powerful? Or that weak? Maybe the magic doesn’t do for her what it used to? Or maybe she’s powerful enough after all the kills the wards don’t affect her like they do so many other magical creatures.”
She thought through scenarios for a minute then walked back out into the hallway. “Or maybe it was because she killed him? His blood weakened it?”
“Normally, it works the other way.”
“Maybe it was a ward not to stop her, or keep her or whatever.” She went back and examined the room, noting it was stripped of just about everything. Henri’s soul was important to him. He believed in heaven and hell. They’d talked about it once; how some saw them as damned, yet a few others saw them as special. He didn’t know which he was, but he believed. She’d like to think his soul had gone on to a better place. “What if the wards weren’t for her, but for him?”
Grayson waved her back to the hallway and they walked down the stairs. “Meaning what?” He walked to the door and took deep breath. She saw him rub his fingers together as he opened it, walked through it and then back inside more slowly. He was pale.
“I mean, what if he somehow knew she was coming? Henri knew things. He’s the one who told me my ex was lost to me, When I’d asked what he’d meant, he couldn’t say. He just saw things sometimes. What if Henri knew she was coming or had an idea a soul thief was coming for him so he put some sort of protection in place so that his soul did not leave. Didn’t transfer to her. Didn’t go anywhere.”
Grayson observed his surroundings. “So he’s trapped here?”
A book fell off the table, and the lights flickered.
She smiled. “Seems like.”
“We should get someone to come cleanse the house, set the poor sod free,” Grayson said, wiping his palms on his thighs.
“We will. But now I need to go tell Frankie what’s happening and then see about stopping her before she takes someone else I care about. Where are you going?”
“To the hotel to await the Spanish Inquisition.”
She wasn’t sure if he was referring to the inspector or Frankie, she didn’t ask.
“You could just stay here.”
“I don’t mind sitting with the dead. I’ve done it more times than I can count, Dee. I’m not sitting here while there’s a ghost in the house.” He glanced over his shoulder.
Laughter bubbled up and surprised her.
“It’s not funny.”
A curtain near him moved. She laughed again when he jumped back into a side table.
“You’re not nice,” he muttered opening the door for her.
“We’ll be back later, Henri,” she said and closed the door behind her. She did feel a faint prickle, like the hair on her arm wanted to stand up but didn’t. Grayson on the other hand bit down as he walked down the steps to the sidewalk. He shook his arms out and waited for her.
“You should probably come to the hotel with me,” he said. “That way we can update Theo together and he won’t waste time calling us both. Though why he can’t just leave us alone, I’m not sure.”
She shrugged. “That’s fine. I can call Frankie on the way and let him know I’ll be back later to fill him in.”
They walked through the neighborhood. Neither worried. Humans didn’t concern them. Granted getting shot or knifed hurt, but she didn’t have to worry about dying or the like from most humans. The evening was cool, chilly even.
“It’s going to rain,” Grayson muttered.
“Probably. I’m fine with that.”
“I can’t understand why he moved.”
She stopped. “What?”
“Why, if Henri lived as long as he had, and apparently previously resided in a nicer neighborhood, did he move down here to the edge of the Quarter?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he liked the vibe better. Maybe a lover lived here. Maybe he liked the layout of his place better here in the Quarter than the other one?”
Grayson shook his head. “I don’t like this city. No city should sit below sea level. Not right. I like my mountains, thank you.”
“And no ghosts.”
He regarded her.
She smiled as they finally hailed a cab. “You know I’m so going to give you hell about this.”
“Paybacks. Just remember, paybacks,” he warned.
7
Francisco paced until the sun set. Devon didn’t call. What if Bianca had found Devon and killed her as well.
Devon could take care of herself. He knew how capable she was. He did. But the other immortals the thief had taken could also take care of themselves.
He’d heard her phone call. He could hear very, very well. He knew another immortal had died. An old powerful one, a Viking warlord. There was only one of those in New Orleans. Henri.
Henri.
All the years they’d spent together, all the times they’d had each other’s back. He’d saved Henri’s life a few times, and Henri had saved his as well. They’d often joke about who currently owed who in terms of paying back a life. Henri had owed him or so Henri had claimed. He’d rather Henri be standing here now.
And where the hell was Devon? Out with Grayson examining Henri’s death. A death that probably happened at the hands of Bianca. She’d always studied her prey before. He assumed she still did and if she had, she knew they were friends.
Why hadn’t they just killed Bianca when they had the chance? Taken her head? Burned her? Either or any of those would work. But no, the Order had wanted more information on her kind, on soul eaters.
He’d wondered what had happened to those souls. He’d done his own research through the years. The bitch could be killed and the souls could be released.
He hoped.
Only one ancient text he’d ever found had stated anything about freeing the souls. He’d read copious amounts of texts in several languages in hopes of finding a way to not only stop her, but to free those she’d taken. Whether it worked or not, no one really knew.
He checked his watch. Sundown was in just a few minutes.
Of all the advances in science and technology, some things remained the same. Like the fact vampires could not go forth into the sunlight. Weres had new vaccinations that would help with silver exposure, shifters the same. They’d learned the hard way vamps did not react well with vaccinations with traces of silver. The fae were learning to cope and thrive in a world filled with various forms of metals, silver or otherwise.
The fae. Grayson. He’d met Grayson before. Had even worked with him through the years on various issues. He had not known that Grayson worked with Devon.
Where was she? He sent another text and wondered if she’d answer her phone if he called.
He was already in the entryway, when someone knocked on the door.
“About damn time,” he muttered and opened the door.
She stood on the stoop shivering, rain glistening in the early evening light.
“Where have you been?” he asked. “You could at least answer your text.”
She nodded and waited, her arms crossed over her chest. The sky had darkened, he realized, with clouds. Thunder rumbled. Rain. Just what they need.
“I think it’s about to rain,” she said softly.
He moved aside and motioned her in. “Get in here before it storms. What did you find out?”
He wanted answers. “I want to head over to Henri’s in a minute. I know he’s gone. I heard you on the phone earlier and I actually agree with your boss, it would help if you’d answer your damn phone.”
She smiled at him. “Yes, it probably would.”
He tilted his head and watched her.
“You all right, love?”
She smiled again and nodded, walking past him to gaze up at the banister overlooking the entryway. “I do so hope the banister up there is as sturdy as it appears.” She pointed.
Something shimmered and he blinked.
The door shut, drawing his attention.
Her laughter danced out. “Ghosts?”
Turning back, he looked between her and the door. “What did you find out about Henri?”
She strolled around the entryway. “Henri. Henri.”
The way she said his name was different, more a proper French than her normal, brasher American way.
“Henri died. Just died,” she said.
“So Bianca didn’t kill him?”
She walked to him, tapped a finger on his chest, then considered him. Her eyes were green…no blue.
He blinked again.
“I didn’t say that, my valiant vampire,” she whispered leaning closer.
He jerked back. Only one person had ever called him that. “Who are you?”
She laughed, Devon’s laughter. She appeared to be Devon, walked like Devon, but was she…
She raised a hand, fingers spread. “Illuminare.”
Bright light shone through the entire entryway. The lights grew even brighter. He winced, felt the warmth on his skin, felt the heat start to rise.
Her laughter floated on the air. He lashed out, but it was so bright, it was hard to see. Something slammed into the back of his head, knocking him down. He rolled and stood, shaking off the dizziness.
The lights. Was it real? It felt real. He could feel his skin heating. He’d be burning soon.
His head hurt from the lights, the knock, or her power he didn’t know. He still couldn’t see. All he saw was light, too-bright light.
“Where’s Devon?”
“Where’s Devon?” she mimicked. “Off with that sexy fae warrior. I might have him next. Or maybe her. I thought about killing her in front of you, and maybe the fates will align so I may. But I saw a perfect opportunity and couldn’t pass it up. Not at all.” Her laughter danced out, Devon’s laughter. But it faded, morphed into a laughter that had haunted his nightmares. A laughter that had once echoed from the stone walls of a dungeon through the years into his dreams and memories.
“Why?” he asked, rasping.
He lashed out, trying to follow the blurred image of her, a darker smudge in the sundrenched entryway.
“Why?” she asked behind him.
He whirled, gasping as his hands started to heat.
“Why what? Why did I escape?” she asked from beside him. “Because I could. Thank the Nazis. A little bomb here, a little rumble there and the walls came crashing down.” She hit him in the chest with something, and he felt something else go around his head. He rolled and shook her off.
Silver.
The metal burned across his cheek.
He kicked out with a booted foot, but she just laughed.
Then she was on him. Muttering in a language he couldn’t remember, but one he’d heard before.
“You. I’ve hated you for a long, long time. I’ve killed you so many times, and so many ways in my head,” she said, leaning down and kissing his cheek.
“Stop the sunlight.”
She laughed. “I used to could call forth actual sunlight. Now I can expend less energy just by making you believe it’s real.”
Not real? It burned. He could feel it.
“Distraction,” she said. “Works wonders.”
He saw the glint of the knife but wasn’t able to move in time. It pierced his chest and he gasped.
“Don’t worry. It’s not deep enough yet to actually kill you. You heal fast. I know. I remember.” She blew something in his face that stung slightly, the briny scent of the sea infused the powder.
She stood off of him and finally, finally the damned light dimmed, cooled and disappeared.
He tried to fight the spell she cast. Tried to move, but could not. Distracted. Distracted by Devon.
She still looked like Devon. He watched her as she pulled something from a bag she’d had slung over her shoulder. A rope. A rope? She thumped up the stairs. It was weird to see Devon, and yet, know it wasn’t her.
The voice was different now.
The hair was the same, but he could see it. Just under the surface a slight glitch in her movements. They were about the same height, but where Devon was athletic, Bianca had always been a seductress with a more curvaceous figure.
“Are you wondering what I’m going to do with you?”
She looped the rope over the banister and dropped the other end down into the entryway where it plodded onto the wooden floor. As she descended, she asked, “You know one thing I love about taking an immortal’s life?”
He still couldn’t move. He could barely breathe. Fire burned in his chest and along the edge of his vision.
“I love how if one studies enough, one can learn that immortals can die again and again. At least until you take their soul. I’m thinking we should play a bit. Then I can take you wherever I so choose and have even more fun with you.” Her boot heels clicked along the floor closer and closer to him.
He gasped, or tried to. He had to fight it, fight her. Fight the magic and the reality of what she planned to do.
“I’ve thought about this for a long, long time.” She patted his cheek. “We’re going to have fun, you and I. In the end, when you’re finally begging me for death… I’ll let you have it, maybe. It will depend on how strong you are. Though I will eventually kill you and you will die knowing that I’ll take your soul and you’ll be with me always. Always.” She shrugged, winked and grinned at him. “I’ve often wondered what your soul will taste like. Some taste like a pungent fruit, others like the very earth they trod, a few remind me of clear spring water over rocks. All have a slight ashy after taste. But you, you, I wonder if you’ll be a like a fine wine. The oldest often are. Though, I must confess a few were rather bitter, and not as enjoyable as I would have liked.”
He tried to move and realized he could only move his fingers.
She was humming. What, he didn’t know. He could hear the rope, nylon, being knotted, or woven or something.
Which probably did not bode well for him.
He did wonder about Henri and if she had just killed a powerful old immortal like Henri, then why wasn’t she more powerful right now? Why couldn’t she disguise her voice.
Her glamor wasn’t as intact as others he’d seen through the years.
She fooled you long enough to invite her into your home. To have you down on the floor, staring at the ceiling, awaiting your doom.
Shut up.
Arguing with himself was not going to help matters. He had do something. She might look like Devon, but she wasn’t Devon—who was thankfully, still with Grayson. Now if the woman would just stay away. He didn’t want to think about what Bianca could do to Devon, or how Devon would be used against him.
Tugging on his arm made him open his eyes. Bianca dragged him across the floor, his shirt twisted under him and the cool floor rubbed along his skin. Below the banister she laid his arms together above his head. All he could move were his stupid fingers. Then she wrapped the rope around and around his wrists and arms.
Still she hummed.
He moaned when she jerked the rope and jerked it again, pulling him up, and up and up until his feet barely touched the floor. He watched her, panting through the burn in his chest where a dagger still protruded. She tied off the rope to the bottom of the stairs, then rubbed her pal
ms together.
“You’re heavier than I thought you’d be,” she said. “I need a drink. Surely you have something in here.”
She walked away from him. Maybe she’d choke on an ice cube and save them all the trouble of killing her.
He needed to move. He moved his fingers and slowly rolled wrists. Bloody hell, that hurt. What the hell had she already done to him?
Killing her.
They needed to kill her, but he also wanted to release the souls she’d trapped.
He could only hope those things happened tonight.
Move. He needed to move. Move! He wiggled his toes until he could push off the floor with the tip of his shoes and continued to lick his lips.
He could bind her. Might not hold her long, but it would buy him some time. If he could get his mouth to work.
He concentrated and thought of Devon even as he heard Bianca’s footsteps returning.
8
Devon sighed. “So why won’t you tell me why you gave me the pendant?”
He’d given in to her just a few moments before.
“No.”
She sighed. “Yes. You can’t just say, ‘Here. Take this.’”
“But you took it. It’s now yours.”
“Faes are a pain in the ass,” she growled. “You are so stubborn. What if I give it to the next homeless man I see?”
He stopped. “It’s no big deal. I was visiting Faerie a while back. After that horrible banshee case we worked.”
A case where children had gone missing and one she’d never forget.
“Okay,” she said.
He sighed, rubbed a hand over his face. “An elder gave me the medallion or pendant or whatever and said I’d know what to do with it. Who to give it to and when.”
She just started at him.
“I have no idea why I suddenly thought you needed it. So I gave it to you.” He shrugged. “Just think of it as a gift. And you’re welcome. Now are we going? I’m coming with,” Grayson told her yet again as they walked down the sidewalk and cut through an alley.
She had already realized she couldn’t shake him. Theo probably told him to stick with her.
“Thank you,” she muttered, before saying it again more loudly.
