Under His Spell (Blanchard Coven 2): An M/M Vampire Romance

by Frey Ortega

  It didn’t take long to prepare the spell. If there was ever one thing Bennett excelled at, it was thinking on his feet. One didn’t have proper gemstones, crystals, or ritual ingredients when you were the captive of a monster, so he had to know how to cast spells quickly, efficiently, and usually without proper preparation. It was a skill he had to learn to survive. After all, failure meant punishment.

  Just the thought of it was enough to make Bennett shudder, trying to shake away the mental image.

  As soon as the spell was completed, Bennett looked up at the both of them.

  “It’s ready,” Bennett said, gesturing to the circle he’d drawn with dirt. “Take my hand, and we’ll get back home quick.”

  Holden looked at his offered hand. “Are you sure?”

  Bennett furrowed his eyebrows, but nodded.

  He didn’t expect the thought or consideration from someone who looked like Marcel, and the surprise must have clearly registered on his face, because the cold expression on Holden’s face beheld a lopsided, apologetic smile.

  If there was ever one thing Holden—and by extension, Marcel—was, it was handsome. Well, more so Holden than his twin, by the end of it.

  Bennett still remembered when Marcel didn’t look like a hollowed-out husk—when he was filled with vitality. Holden looked exactly like that.

  “It’ll be quicker,” Bennett replied matter-of-factly, mumbling his words a little bit and looking away from the other vampire. “Quicker than us walking back, anyway. Besides, no one is here.”

  Holden hesitated, but then he took Bennett’s hand in his. “Thank you,” the vampire said.

  Bennett nodded, once again, unable to really find the words to talk to the man who looked so much like his captor. It felt too much like being back with Marcel once again.

  Elijah watched the both of them for a moment, before intertwining his fingers with Bennett’s. The warmth of his touch thawed the iciness that settled inside of Bennett’s stomach, and the tender expression on Elijah’s face was almost too much for Bennett to bear, but he grasped his mate’s hand tautly.

  With a flash of brilliant, arcane light and an exhale that made Bennett’s magic flow out through his body and into the teleportation circle, he brought the both of them to the witches’ common room.

  It was the one room in the Blanchard building that made the most sense to teleport to, or so Bennett thought, anyway. It was wide and spacious, and there weren’t bound to be very many people in there. In fact, it was conspicuously quiet. Not even Soraya or Haley were there.

  But that made it easier for the three of them to get out of the common room and to the elevators, straight down to one of the office levels and then into one of the conference rooms. There, Bennett saw that Julien and his mate, Eos, sat to one end of a long, lacquered oak table. Vadim sat to Julien’s right, and Miss Ifi sat right beside him, too.

  As always, the vampires looked unsettlingly beautiful. They looked like they were carved straight out of marble. Miss Ifi could stand her own against them, with her rich and smooth brown skin adorned with jewelry and the dresses that perfectly contoured to her tall, willowy frame. Bennett just felt frumpy in comparison.

  Maybe the only person Bennett thought seemed even remotely approachable in this sea of intimidating figures was Eos, and Bennett immediately sidled over right next to the human, who gave him a wide smile.

  They were both quite a bit more…normal, to say the least.

  “Hey Bennett,” Eos greeted. “How are you holding up so far?”

  “I’m…good,” Bennett replied, trying to find the right words, but not really being able to. He shrugged.

  Elijah shook his head, but grinned. “Good, aside from almost being shot and now being the target of hunters, you mean.”

  Bennett smiled. “Wiseass,” he muttered, hoping that the amusement he felt translated in his voice. It surprised him that even in the midst of all this stress, he didn’t feel as poorly as he usually would. He would have been shaking by now—knees buckling as a cold iciness would settle in his stomach—but instead he was handling it all better than he ever thought he could.

  “Your wiseass, lest you forget,” Elijah said, placing a hand gently on Bennett’s shoulder as he passed and sat right next to him.

  Bennett raised an eyebrow at Elijah. “How could I, when you won’t let me?”

  “And I never will,” the vampire replied. “It’s important that you know that you’re mine, just as I’m yours.”

  “Have you already consummated the mating?” the coven leader Julien asked. He leaned back against his chair. “Are congratulations in order? Pardon my intrusiveness, I didn’t realize you had already taken such a step.”

  Bennett looked down at the table, but shook his head. “No, we haven’t.”

  Julien visibly blanched. “Oh. Then…I’m sorry for asking.”

  Eos chuckled, reaching over to gently pat his mate’s shoulder. Julien placed a hand over Eos’s, and smiled at his mate. “Why don’t you guys just get down to business, then? From what I heard there’s some trouble brewing again.”

  “The human has it right,” Holden said, standing at the doorway, unmoving like some kind of stone sentinel. “There’s trouble on your doorstep, and it might already be too late.”

  Julien looked up at Holden, squinting as he slowly leaned forward to stare at the newcomer. “And who is this? He looks familiar for some reason.”

  Elijah smirked and leaned back against his chair. “Give it a minute.”

  Vadim eyed Holden warily, and crossed his arms over his chest. As soon as the realization dawned on him, his frown deepened. “Marcel.”

  The large vampire’s voice was gruff and low, like rolling thunder, rumbling in a deep, but rich baritone.

  To be honest, Vadim scared Bennett. He was not a man to be trifled with. To be fair, Elijah and Julien were formidable in their own right, but Vadim looked like he was the one most capable of just snapping someone’s neck in half with a single look.

  Holden’s shoulders tensed and his body stiffened. He lowered his head respectfully. “Pardon my rudeness. My name is Holden. Marcel is—was—my brother. I apologize most sincerely, from the bottom of my heart, for all the problems he has brought to your doorstep.”

  Eos froze. Bennett noticed the subtle way Eos’s face blanched and his body tensed, and the way the human turned to look at Julien, who was looking at his mate right back with concern clear in the vampire’s eyes. Eos shook his head slightly, and offered a small, weak smile. It seemed like the two of them were having some kind of conversation, probably through their mating bond.

  Julien looked back at Holden. “Your brother’s sins aren’t yours,” the coven leader said. He gestured over to an empty chair. “Please have a seat, and tell us all you know about what we’re facing. Uriel, make sure we’re undisturbed unless it’s absolutely necessary,” he hollered outside to his assistant—another handsome vampire who poked his head into the conference room, although Bennett was under the impression that they were all devilishly good-looking—before turning back to Holden.

  Holden nodded. He did as he was instructed, maybe almost a bit too stiffly. He sat down, posture looking a bit too rigid to be completely at ease, and then he cleared his throat. “There are hunters in your city, and it seems they’ve been in pursuit of Marcel and Mister Landry over here for quite some time now.”

  “That’s not usually a big problem. A nuisance, yes, but not always,” Julien frowned. “What kind of hunters?”

  “Cleaners,” Holden replied.

  Immediately, the entire room seemed to grow quiet.

  Bennett felt his heart drop to his stomach. There were cleaners after him? His mind raced. He had been so careful. He knew Marcel was a monster, but he didn’t think that it would warrant the attention of that kind of hunter.

  Eos’s face was one of confusion. He scrunched his face and raised a single eyebrow. “Hunters? Cleaners? Are you guys just naming toilet paper brands?”<
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  The group immediately turned to Eos, who shifted awkwardly in his seat. Elijah was grinning. Vadim’s face had just grown more austere. Julien blinked at his mate, and Bennett’s thoughts drifted toward what kind of toilet paper would call itself a hunter.

  It was Ifeya who broke the silence first.

  “No, dear. Hunters are humans, just like yourself, who’ve decided to take it upon themselves to protect mankind,” she answered. “They’re sort of like a kind of secret police, or secret military force, but also bounty hunters, and vigilantes. It’s a mixed bag.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad,” Eos replied. “Protecting humans is a good thing.”

  “Well, yes, of course, little light. The general principle of protecting people is always going to be a good thing,” Julien chimed in. “But these people—the Cleaners—take it to a whole other level.”

  Elijah shook his head. “They’re bad news for the supernatural community. Sure, not all of them are bad, but just like how witches are separated by houses and vampires by covens, they have their own little sects, too. The Cleaners are one of the bad ones. Maybe not the worst, but definitely not the best.”

  “Think of the Cleaners like religious zealots if they mixed with bounty hunters and a private militia,” Ifeya replied. “At best, they’ll be an incredible nuisance and draw unneeded attention. At worst, things may escalate in a way they never have before.”

  Bennett nodded. Everyone knew not to attract the attention of a hunter to begin with. You didn’t know what kind you were going to be dealing with. But to attract the attention of a cleaner? That was a death wish—a nuclear option—that he never would wish against anyone.

  “That’s not what they’re technically called, either—Cleaners, I mean,” Elijah said, looking at Eos as he said this. “But it’s easier than whatever pretentious name they’ve come up for themselves. They call themselves the Inquisition, right?”

  “It’s a longer name than that,” Bennett replied, but as soon as the eyes were on him, he darted his gaze away from them, suddenly feeling rather small. The attention made him uncomfortable.

  “Yeah. The Inquisition for the Betterment of Society, or something like that,” Vadim replied.

  Eos snorted. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh at that, but I have to ask. The letters of their organization are…IBS?”

  Bennett fought the urge to smile. He even lifted a fist up to his mouth just to bite down on it to keep from laughing. This was serious. He shouldn’t laugh at the obvious joke, and he had thought the same thing before—hell, who didn’t—but when one was at the mercy of the Cleaners, laughing at their name wasn’t exactly on the top of the list.

  Elijah grinned. “Yep. They definitely feel just as irritating. But their name is why we just call them cleaners. It makes the threat of them a bit more real, and less…funny.”

  Eos snickered. “And on a more serious note, they’re modeled after the Spanish Inquisition, you mean?” Eos asked with a wide smile on his face, trying to stifle his laughter and turning to look at Julien, who simply shrugged, but then nodded. The human rolled his eyes, and adjusted the thick-framed glasses on his face.

  “Hunters don’t usually pose much of a problem. But this particular kind does,” Julien said. “This was what we were trying to avoid when dealing with the Marcel situation. Well, one of the things we were trying to avoid, anyway. Cleaners aren’t really open to talking. They like to come in, do their mission, and leave. Thorough. Efficient…scary.”

  “Brutal, too, in their efficiency,” Vadim added. “They do whatever it takes to get the results they want—taking as many lives as necessary along the way.”

  “That’s probably why you guys call them cleaners,” Eos said. “I get the reference. Still, what an unfortunate acronym for their organization.”

  The room fell silent as they all stared at Eos, who was still snickering to himself.

  Bennett knew that wasn’t the end of it.

  When the human noticed that everyone was looking his way, Eos collected himself and spoke. “I guess the coven is about to deal with a large case of IBS, huh?”

  I knew it. Bennett covered his mouth to stifle a laugh again.

  Eos laughed.

  Julien grinned, and shook his head. “Okay, little light, that’s enough now,” he said as he placed his hand on top of Eos’s. “We have to take this threat a little bit more seriously. It could become a…chronic issue…if we don’t handle this delicately.”

  At that, even Ifeya smirked. She brought a meticulously manicured hand up to her face, before shaking her head and resuming her usual, vaguely amused expression.

  “Okay. I’ll keep quiet now. Well, no, in the interest of contributing to the conversation, I do have one question,” Eos said, turning to look toward the rest of the group. “The Cleaners—what are they going to do if they’re here?”

  “Who knows, exactly?” Julien asked, though the question was more rhetorical than anything. “They’re capable of anything and everything.”

  “Well, we know one thing for sure—they’re not interested in talking. They’re just interested in hunting down their target,” Vadim replied. “They might already be conducting sweeps of the city and I wouldn’t be surprised if their first order of business was to try and find more information on Bennett and Marcel. None of us—vampire or witch—is safe.”

  “Do you think they might start interrogating people?” Elijah asked.

  “They might already have,” Holden replied. “I came to the city about the same time as the first wave of the Cleaners. It was difficult avoiding them, but I figured if I got to Bennett first, then it might save this coven from anymore unnecessary interaction with the hunters.”

  “We should take account of our people, then. Maybe we should ask the coven to be on high alert for hunters,” Elijah said.

  “Aren’t we always on alert for hunters in the area, though? We shouldn’t cause unnecessary panic,” Vadim said. “Although I can understand the need for concern. It’s better that people be ready and stay vigilant.”

  Elijah nodded. “Exactly. It won’t do anyone any good to be blindsided.”

  “The coven should be informed,” Julien decided. He looked at Ifeya. “I think you should tell the people in your House, as well.”

  Ifeya offered a little smile in response, tenting her fingers together. “There are fewer of us, and we’re easier to hunt down. I will tell them immediately.”

  Julien then turned to look at Holden. “If you’d like, you can stay here under the protection of the coven. We appreciate the warning, and I think we can find a place for you here.”

  Holden looked up at Julien. “I appreciate the offer,” he answered. “But I don’t want to impose.”

  “It’s not an imposition,” Julien said. “Besides, if the Cleaners are after your brother and everyone connected to him, you’re naturally one of their targets. Bennett, too, and by extension, all of us.”

  “Yes,” Holden replied. “If I accepted your offer, I’d be painting a larger target on your backs.”

  “We already have a large target on our backs,” Julien said. “It’s not gonna change much whether we harbor one target or two.”

  “If you say so,” Holden answered, though he raised an eyebrow. “Then if it’s alright with you…”

  Julien nodded his head. “Absolutely. You’re more than welcome.”

  Holden nodded. A small smile appeared on his face as he turned away, and from what Bennett could see, there was the slightest ease in the man’s shoulders, as though the tension in his body had slowly begun to dissipate.

  It was at that point that Bennett started to drift in and out of the meeting. They were talking about things that Bennett knew were important, but didn’t really concern him or require his input—security concerns, how the coven and the house were going to help one another to fight against the Inquisition, and there was a snicker or two as Eos laughed at the acronym once more—when suddenly there was a loud kno
ck on the conference room door, and all eyes went straight to the person now entering.

  “Miss Ifi. Something terrible has happened.”

  One of Ifeya’s children—another member of her house—stood in the doorway. Uriel had appeared mere moments later, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder warningly, but the warlock simply shrugged it off.

  Bennett had seen him before, but they weren’t really that close. The man didn’t usually talk to him, but had been pleasant enough, if a little standoffish.

  Bennett understood why the man hadn’t talked to him, though. He was a stranger being brought into the fold. Now, though, he looked panicked. He was shaky, and looked distraught. But when his eyes met Bennett’s, there was a sudden iciness to it that made him immediately uncomfortable. The warlock scowled. Something was wrong.

  Very wrong.

  “What is it, dear heart?” Ifeya asked, beckoning the warlock closer toward them.

  “It’s Haley and Soraya,” the other warlock said. “They’ve been killed.”

  Bennett’s eyes widened.

  The entire room fell silent.

  “What?” Bennett asked softly.

  The man’s scowl deepened. “What do you mean, what? They’re dead. Because of you. The Cleaners are here, and they’re trying to find you. It’s all your fault, and if you have any shame at all you’ll give yourself up!” He snapped, shouting at Bennett.

  Bennett flinched. But worse than that, he felt his insides drop. His heart started pounding wildly. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of him.

  His friends were dead.

  Their smiling faces appeared in his mind—clear as day. They were the ones who helped him get ready for the date.

  Was it really me? Did I kill them?

  No. Yes. No. I don’t know. This guy wouldn’t lie, would he?

  Bennett felt his fingers turn cold and numb. Every inch of his body fought the urge to just disappear right then and there. If this was a moment of fight-or-flight, Bennett wanted so very much to just fly away—as far away as he possibly could.