Ahead, something large loomed in the dark, a huge building of some sort. It had an odd shape, almost like an egg halfway tilting out of its cup.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“The corner of Independence and New Jersey.”
“New Jersey…” Quinn’s eyes widened with shock as realization slammed into her. “That’s the U.S. Capitol building.”
“Yes. Quite unlike its modern day counterpart, no?”
“What happened to it?”
“Age. Neglect. It was never occupied by the vampires. The dome slid off its base some forty years ago.”
Damn. Just when she thought she’d seen it all—the White House sitting half-collapsed in swamp water, the Washington Monument still only a third built. Now this.
As her mount continued to follow Arturo’s, she tried to make out the features of that ruined monstrosity, wishing for some light. Suddenly, Arturo’s voice spoke telepathically in her head.
Two Gonzaga guards approach on our right, cara. And they are the real thing.
Chapter 8
Pretend to be injured and keep your head down.
At Arturo’s telepathic words, Quinn tensed. They’d discussed this earlier, that Egor, like almost all vampires who’d been around for more than a century, was an excellent rider. And while she might look like him, she certainly didn’t ride like him. They’d decided she needed to pretend that she—or Egor—had been injured by a bolt of magical energy thrown at him by the sorceress.
Quinn curved around her arm as if she’d been slammed hard in the stomach. As the adrenaline pumped through her veins, she squeezed her eyes closed in case they began to glow as they often did when she felt threatened, triggering her magic. In the dark of Vamp City, glowing eyes would give her away in an instant.
Do not be afraid, cara. All will be fine.
Quinn scowled. Easy for him to say.
“The sorceress!” Arturo called in a voice belonging to the vampire whose face he wore. “We came upon her not five minutes ago. She attacked us and fled, but she cannot be far. That way!”
She couldn’t see which way he pointed, couldn’t see the vampires he spoke to, but she heard the pound of additional hoofbeats. Her heart thudded, her body tensing even as she told herself she was safe. Nothing bad would happen, no one would realize she was really the sorceress under glamour. But the words did little to calm her.
As the vampires’ mounts began to retreat, the earth began to rumble—another earthquake, as strong as the one before. And suddenly noise burst all around her, a cacophony of sound that didn’t exist in this world—traffic and electricity, rock music and laughter. The real world must have broken through nearby. If she weren’t forced to keep her eyes closed, she’d be able to see it and, if she chose to, walk right back into the real world through the breaks.
Thanks to her Blackstone magic, she alone could travel both ways between the worlds in that manner. Although a number of humans had apparently walked into Vamp City that way, to her knowledge, she was the only one able to escape. If she wanted to. And she alone could hear and see the real world when the two worlds bled together.
The temptation to take a look was strong, but she forced herself to keep her eyes closed, her body hunched, and her head down. She was glad she had when she heard, once more, the sound of approaching hoofbeats.
“Any sign of her?” Arturo called to, apparently, the same pair of guards.
“None. She’s disappeared again.”
“Come, then. We will report the sighting to Cristoff together,” Arturo told them.
Quinn tensed, wondering why he’d invite them to join him. But a moment later, she understood.
“We?” The other vampire’s voice shot too high. “No, no, my friend. You were the ones who fought her. You must report the sighting.”
From what Arturo had said, Cristoff was as likely to kill the messenger these days as listen to him.
A moment later, Quinn once more heard the sound of retreating horses.
“You did well, cara” Arturo said quietly. “Keep your eyes closed. I’ll find some place to safely release your magic.”
At one time, that release could only have occurred through an explosion that could have possibly brought the roof down on top of them, but with her Blackstone magic mostly free now, she’d discovered other avenues of release that wouldn’t alert nearby vampires of her proximity.
She felt Arturo take the reins of her horse and begin to lead it. Several minutes later, he said, “You may open your eyes, cara.”
She did and could tell from the odd light in front of her face that her eyes were still glowing with power. A quick look told her they were in a small, empty building of some kind, maybe an old storage shed. Dismounting, she put distance between herself and the animals, then closed her eyes, lifted her hands, and called on the magic pulsing in her blood to form a thick, dark bubble around herself—essentially another world. Slowly, she widened the bubble, expanding it to include Arturo and the horses.
The animals nickered with surprise, but a few words from Arturo and they quieted. Quinn continued, expanding her bubble to include the whole of the shed, draining off the excess power in the process.
“Your eyes have returned to normal, tesoro. The magic no longer rages.”
“I’m burning it off.” Slowly, she pulled the bubble back, contracting it, little by little, until it no longer encompassed the animals or Arturo, until she alone stood within its center. And then she contracted it more, dissolving it altogether.
She’d come far since she’d accidentally created that first bubble and nearly suffocated herself and her werewolf captor in it. No one could escape one of her creations unless she handed them out, or contracted it from around them. But she no longer lost control of the things as she had at first. She suspected that Phineas Blackstone’s ability to create worlds had sprung from a similar gift.
“Ready to go?” Arturo asked.
“Sure, though you’ll have to lead me to my horse. I’m blind as a bat in here.”
Cool fingers closed around her own. But instead of leading her away, Arturo tugged her against his long, hard body. As his arms curled around her, she stiffened for only a moment before melting into him and wrapping her arms around his lean waist. He didn’t try to kiss her, merely held her, one hand stroking her hair.
“You mean more to me than you know, tesoro mio,” he said quietly. “So much more than you know.”
His words were a balm to the agitation that had been riding her from the moment they’d hatched this plan to steal Escalla.
“I’ve trusted you so many times, Vampire. Please don’t let me down this time.”
He stroked her hair. “I promise I will not. Never again.”
She believed him. Pulling back, she brushed his cheek with her lips, then found his mouth. The kiss was as careful and tender as any they’d shared, a promise, a gift of trust.
When they pulled apart, she felt stronger than she had before, more sure of her path.
“We need to get going, Turo. Kassius and Micah are going to wonder what happened to us.”
Arturo helped her mount in the dark, then led her horse outside, and together, they took off.
They ran across no other vampires and finally reached the stables where they were to rendezvous with Kassius and Micah. These particular stables hid the entrance to a network of tunnels that ran beneath Gonzaga Castle—tunnels created with the help of Grant Blackstone’s magic. A couple of weeks ago, Grant had helped her escape and led her to freedom through the tunnels. Up to that point, they’d been known only to the humans.
But Kassius had found out about them later when, after she’d been recaptured, Cristoff had ordered him to bite her, and through her memories, Kassius had learned the truth of her escape. That had been a weird experience for both of them because while Kassius had always been able to divine another’s truth with a bite, he’d never before had his gift hijacked in return. She’d done so unintentiona
lly, of course, but while he’d studied her memories, she’d been privy to his.
While she’d learned he was a werevamp during that exchange, Kassius had learned of the tunnels beneath Gonzaga, but he’d kept the information from Cristoff. Now they would use the tunnels to sneak into the castle.
Arturo dismounted and she did the same. Together, they led their mounts through the stable doors.
“Any trouble?” Micah asked, his voice emerging from the dark.
“Nothing to speak of,” Arturo replied. “You may turn on your small flashlight, cara. Keep it pointed low, please.”
Without hesitation, she pulled the light out of her boot and flicked it on, glad to finally be able to see clearly. Kassius was grooming his mount while Micah poured grain into one of the troughs.
Quinn looked around, remembering this place and the friends she’d made here as she’d helped a handful of escaped slaves. How had it come to this, that she was now stealing into the most terrifying place she’d ever encountered, instead of out?
As Arturo and Kassius took care of the horses, Micah joined her.
“Are you doing okay?” he asked, curving his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close.
She leaned against him and sighed. “I’m scared shitless, to be honest.”
“We’ve got your back, you know that. If I thought Ax couldn’t be trusted, I wouldn’t have allowed this.” He released her, then turned her to face him. “You and I might have met because Ax sent me to keep an eye on you, but you’ve become like a sister to me, Quinn.” His eyes crinkled as a gleam of mischief erupted in their gray depths. “Of course, if you get tired of him, I might well audition for a different role.”
A jealous rumble emitted from the direction of the men currying the horses, making Micah grin. But as he continued to watch her, his expression slowly sobered to the point of absolute gravity. “I’ll kill whoever tries to hurt you. No matter who he is.”
Quinn slipped her arms around Micah’s waist, placed a kiss on his cheek, then laid her head on his shoulder as his strong arms gathered her close. Finally, with a quick kiss to her hair, he released her and they joined the others.
“Ready?” Kassius asked. When the rest of them nodded, he knelt on the floor in the middle of the stable, brushed aside the hay, then closed his fingers around a hidden iron handle and pulled. The hatch lifted, revealing a ladder leading down into the dark.
Kassius started down first. Quinn turned off her flashlight, tucked it back into her boot, then felt for the ladder and followed him down. Strong hands closed around her hips from behind, swinging her off the ladder and setting her on her feet out of the way. She felt more than heard the next one down, but knew it was Micah. She always knew Arturo’s scent. Above she heard the creak of a hinge and the soft thud of wood that told her he’d closed the hatch.
Quinn waited in the pitch dark, the only one of them unable to see. Moments later, the warm scent of almonds enveloped her and cool fingers closed around her hand and gave a tug. Silently, she followed him down the pitch black tunnel, one she knew ran for a long, long way, maybe as much as a quarter mile.
They hadn’t gone far when something hit her in the head, suddenly, with a dull thunk. Arturo’s hand disappeared from around hers. Before she could fully register what she’d run into, it was around her neck, pulling tight.
Quinn’s eyes went wide, her fingers clawing at the chain now digging into her windpipe, cutting off her air. Slowly the chain began to lift her off her feet.
Terror ripped through her with horrifying clarity.
She was about to be hanged.
Chapter 9
Quinn clawed at the chain around her throat, fighting not to panic as she felt it lifting her off her feet. Dear God, dear God, dear God.
“Help me,” she gasped.
Suddenly cool fingers joined with hers, fingernails scratching her neck in their desperation to dig beneath the noose and free it. Arturo’s fingers.
She lifted onto the balls of her feet, then onto her toes as the chain rose, tightening. Panic exploded. Any moment, she’d be hanging by her neck!
An arm circled her waist from behind, and suddenly she was being lifted up. The chain around her neck slackened and she felt Arturo’s cool fingers slip beneath it, but barely. She could breathe, but the chain wasn’t coming loose! She could feel it trying to tighten around her neck as if it had a mind of its own.
All of a sudden she began to swing, though still caught tight against…was it Micah? Kassius? Why was he…?
Understanding crashed over her. They were all being hung. The vampires could survive without air for an indefinite period of time, so were struggling to keep the noose from tightening around her neck.
Silver, tesoro, Arturo said in her mind.
Silver. The chains. While silver couldn’t burn or kill a vampire, it would absolutely steal his strength and any kind of power he possessed. The four of them were sitting ducks…well…hanging ducks. And she was the only one with a chance in hell of saving them.
Magic. She had magic, but what would work against a silver chain?
As the one around her neck contracted, Arturo’s fingers dug into her windpipe, making her cough. Heaven help her, she didn’t have much time. Reaching up, she tried yanking on her own chain, trying to dislodge it from whatever it was hanging from, but she only managed to send them all swaying harder.
She could think of only one thing to do. Calling up her power, she formed a tight bubble around herself and her companions. And suddenly they were falling.
Quinn came to a jarring halt, still tight against someone’s chest as the clink of falling chains echoed all around her. She’d done it! Her bubble had disconnected them from whatever the chains were attached to.
“Dio, Quinn,” Arturo gasped, pulling the chain carefully from around her neck. “Breathe, bella, breathe.”
Her feet touched the ground, but the arm around her remained, holding her steady as she pulled in a deep, wheezing breath.
Cool, frantic fingers grasped her face. “Easy, tesoro.”
She filled her lungs slowly, deeply, the panic easing away. Straightening, she pulled away, leaned down to pull out her flashlight, then turned it on.
Her three glamoured companions stared at her with angry, haunted eyes.
“They nearly killed you,” Micah growled. From where he was standing, she knew it was Kassius who’d been holding her aloft.
“They set the trap for vampires,” she said, then coughed. “Could you see them? Do you know who did this?”
Kassius grunted. “The magic smells like Grant’s.” Grant Blackstone might not have the power of his father, but he had magic enough to pull off such a trap with ease. “He knows that I know about his tunnels—I had to reveal that knowledge to try to force him to aid you once before. I suspect this trap was set for me, and anyone I brought with me.”
“I sensed no one,” Arturo said, his eyes pained as he reached for, and gently stroked, the scratches on her neck. “I tasted no fear, not the slightest nervousness.”
“Nor did I,” Kassius said.
“I wonder if the magic will alert Grant to the fact that he caught something,”
Micah said. “We need to get moving.”
Quinn turned to Arturo. “Maybe you should get rid of your glamour.”
He shook his head. “Not until we’re certain these tunnels have not been discovered by Cristoff and his loyal ones. Release your bubble, cara.”
She didn’t want to. Within the bubble they were safe. But she could always call it again, if she needed to. She did as requested, then blinked at the suddenly light-filled tunnel. Half a dozen lanterns revealed more than a dozen men and women aiming guns at them. Many looked human, a few Slava. But, to Quinn’s surprise, there were Gonzaga guards sprinkled among them, as well. At least, men who were dressed in the all-black guard uniforms. At their head, no surprise, stood Grant Blackstone, the eldest of Phineas Blackstone’s sons, a man born just after
the Civil War. His brother, Sheridan, had been turned into a vampire in his early twenties and had retained little of their father’s power at all. Grant had stopped aging sometime in his thirties. He was dressed, now, in his usual ivory linen shirt, dark brown pants, and boots—what she thought of as 19th century landowner casual. His blond hair possessed the phosphorescent glow of a Slava, his beard short and trimmed, his eyes as cool as blue glass.
“The guns are filled with wooden bullets,” Grant said evenly. “Though real bullets would likely work just as well on one of you, wouldn’t they, sorceress? Who’s with you?”
Their sudden disappearance…and reappearance…had given her away. But Grant wasn’t necessarily an enemy. He hated Cristoff nearly as much as she did. Maybe more.
“We’re on the same side, Grant,” she called. “Put the guns down.”
Another male emerged from the shadows behind Grant, a vampire she recognized as the third of Arturo’s closest friends. In recent weeks, Bram’s need to feed on the pain of others had driven him closer and closer to Cristoff—dangerously close. But Arturo had told her his story, that before he became trapped, he’d spent most of his time in the real world working as an emergency room surgeon at George Washington Hospital, healing humans even as he fed, unhappily, on their agony. The last time she saw him, he’d looked more like a drug addict than a surgeon, his eyes dark-rimmed and bloodshot as his need for pain spiraled out of control right along with his master’s. She was glad to see that he looked better today. Much better.
“One of them is Micah,” Bram said. “He’s the only one I know with the power to glamour four of them at once. If I had to guess, Arturo and Kassius round out the foursome.”
“Dissolve the glamour, please, Micah,” Arturo said with a sigh.
“All of it?” Micah grumbled. “Dissolving it takes almost as much energy as creating it in the first place.” But he did as requested and moments later the four of them once more looked like themselves.
Of Blood and Passion Page 6
