by Isabel Wroth
Maksim chortled wickedly, turning to brush his lips across her temple.
“No need to brag, love.”
“I’m not bragging,” Kerrigan retorted. “I’m a Summoner, a Necromancer, a Soul Collector, and a Curse Breaker. In my world, my abilities are rare as frog fur, and it means I can do this: To hear the truth and know the way, I cast a spell this very day. I summon thee, Quentin Van Horn, reveal yourself unto me.”
Summoned for the second time tonight, Quentin appeared at the center of their circle, fully formed and looking almost alive.
Kerrigan saw Juliet in the sparkle of Quentin’s mischievous smile. Quentin wasn’t much taller than Kerrigan, but his body was compact and well-muscled.
Even though he had on the same trousers and button-down shirt he’d been wearing when he died, Quentin didn’t look like a glorified office nerd.
“Can you hear me now?” Quentin greeted, turning in a slow circle to make sure all the vampires could see him.
Isaiah frowned and tilted his head to peer intently at the ghost in front of him.
“Do I… know you?”
Quentin pressed his hand to his heart with an exaggerated pout. “I’m hurt. We spent a glorious night together discussing how my work could ensure your latest school for girls could be protected from anything including a man with a cup of acid to an all-out bombing.
“I spent all day working up a file with my protocols and how I could best serve the needs of the people living inside the school. I even proposed assigning an Ifrit as a guardian given the region, but when I brought it to your apartment, you were gone.”
Clearly flabbergasted, Isaiah just stood there, mutely staring at Quentin in outright shock.
“Quentin, will you tell us how you died?” Kerrigan invited.
“Of course!” Quentin replied with a peppy bounce. “It was that same night. I let myself into Isaiah’s apartment because… well, he gave me a key. I left the file on the table beside his bed, locked up behind me, and the next thing I knew, I was flying out into the atrium. Well, falling, to be precise. Ironic, isn’t it? I sent my sister a levitation spell to learn for her birthday, but I never thought to memorize it myself.”
“I am sorry I didn’t personally follow up on the report of your murder, Quentin,” Maksim said gravely.
“Murder?” Virico dropped his sardonic smiles and became as serious as she’d yet seen him. “How have we gone from the betrayal of a brother to murder of an employee?”
Quentin raised his hands and did his best impression of The Dude.
“It’s all connected, man. See, it all started when Katherine Pembroke made a move on Isaiah. Bronagh didn’t like it that the head of another clan was attempting to seduce Isaiah away from him, and if Maksim hadn’t done a bit of the ole’ Off With Her Head at Isaiah’s urging, Bronagh would have gone to war with the Pembroke clan, which would have ensured the council had no choice but to move against Armistice.”
Aubin interrupted with an impatient hiss. “We all know this story and how it ended—”
“Are you in a rush to leave, brother?” Virico asked, turning to stare at Aubin with an extremely suspicious glare.
Aubin rudely scoffed, jerking his shoulder away from Dhiraj’s hand when he attempted to calm Aubin.
“I’m in no rush; I simply grow bored with this tedious show. For all we know, Maksim’s witch is using this alleged ghost as a puppet to turn us against each other.”
“Man, you are so paranoid,” Quentin accused, looking to Kerrigan with an apologetic shrug. “Guess I have to go a little deeper.”
Kerrigan smiled at him, resting her head on Maksim’s bicep. “You do what you need to do, Quentin. This is your time to speak.”
“So, I need to tell you something Kerrigan couldn’t possibly know to prove she has no hold on my tongue, eh? Alright,” Quentin said to Aubin and began speaking in rapid French.
Kerrigan was fluent enough to express her needs, but not enough to carry on a full conversation. Whatever Quentin said made Maksim’s bicep turn to stone beneath her cheek, and Aubin turn an unflattering shade of green.
When Quentin finished, he looked around with his eyebrows raised. “I hope that will suffice as evidence that I am under no spell or being coerced to say only what Kerrigan wishes me to.”
Aubin licked his lips and pulled his hand down his face as he nodded, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.
“Yes.”
“Good. So, you all know Maksim offed Bronagh, took his place, and the company began to flourish in ways it never had before. Everything was coming up roses, but Bronagh’s devoted lover couldn’t forget the lesson he’d learned: to love is to be weak and brings nothing but misery and pain. As soon as Maksim found his Dride, Dhiraj couldn’t help but teach Maksim the same lesson.”
Dhiraj nodded as though his master plan had finally been revealed, and he seemed relieved. “I confess I regret killing Quentin. I had a momentary lapse of judgment and thought he had rejected my advances in favor of Isaiah. Quentin reminded me so much of Bronagh, and seeing him come out of Isaiah’s room that night… well, what can I say? I was jealous and acted rashly.”
Kerrigan fought to keep her hand off the side of her face where Astrid had removed the psychic stain on her soul when Dhiraj looked at her without a hint of remorse.
“I do not contest that Bronagh needed to be stopped, but he didn’t have to die. Maksim took Bronagh from me, and the reward of having a Bride of his own to love was too much for me to bear. The grief of what you’d done was supposed to have overwhelmed you, Kerrigan. It baffles me how you were able to withstand the compulsion.”
“Guess you should have just done the job yourself when you had the chance,” Kerrigan replied, feeling nothing but contempt for the vampire.
“What did you say to the pawns you recruited to spy for you?” Maksim demanded coldly. “How did you get them to stalk Kerrigan, documenting every single one of her movements to send to me, making it clear if I didn’t allow myself to be continuously tortured, she would die?”
“I told them I believed she was responsible for your disappearance.” Dhiraj answered in a reasonable tone.
Thomas looked as though he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I came to you after I passed out, and you convinced me it was a result of my maker’s death.”
Again, Dhiraj sounded perfectly composed, as though he’d done everyone a favor. That teaching Maksim this lesson of loss was the right thing to have done.
“You weren’t convinced that Maksim disappeared on purpose. It was easy to sneak up behind you and snap your neck. You felt pain and lost consciousness, but never knew I was there.”
Hector took a step forward, trembling with the force it took to contain his rage.
“Why nae just kill Maks?”
“I planned to, but then Kerrigan cursed the Wives and Vivica demanded he be revived. Something to do with his blood, so I had to improvise on the spot. I told Kerrigan every time she thought about Maksim, she would be overwhelmed with her feelings of failure, and after ordering her parents to abandon her, I made them forget me in favor of focusing on their fear of retribution.
“I fully expected Kerrigan to take her own life, and I realized Maksim would suffer even more knowing he hadn’t been there to save his infant Bride, so I left him be. Up until Vivica removed his eyes, it felt far more satisfying to know he was suffering, listening to the stories of where in the world Kerrigan was and what she was doing without him.”
It blew her mind to hear no emotion at all from Dhiraj, only a blank recitation of his sins. The ringing of Maksim’s cell phone cut through the silence, and he answered without taking his eyes off Dhiraj.
“Yes? Bring him up to the Petite Ballroom.” Maksim slipped the phone back into his coat pocket and glanced down at her with a tight nod.
“Etienne is here.”
Kerrigan hummed in answer, ready for this whole thing to be over. She wanted to go home.
“Good.�
�
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Maksim heard Etienne as soon as he exited the elevator. The security team had standing orders to tackle Etienne as soon as he’d come through the door, having been invited via Dhiraj’s cloned cell phone with the promise that their treasure was found.
“Unhand me this instant! Do you have any idea who I am?” Etienne was shouting, which made Kerrigan huff and look up at him with an expression of, ‘seriously?’
Maksim could only shrug and shake his head.
“You can’t manhandle me this way; I was invited here—”
“Dude, shut up already!”
Maksim watched with extreme satisfaction as Etienne was shoved into the ballroom, trussed up in silver chains, being led like a dog by the two shifters on either side of him.
Etienne looked around with wide, uncertain eyes, but the second he saw Kerrigan, fear whitened his already pale flesh.
Hector looked like he’d just sank his fangs into a lemon. “Why is it dressed like tha’?”
Maksim imagined if Hector had a stick, he might go as far as to poke Etienne with it like a little boy poking a dead animal.
Maks couldn’t blame him, Etienne did look ridiculous in his leather pants and red velvet smoking jacket.
“I think those are the only clothes he has, Hector,” Kerrigan answered in confusion. “This is Etienne Rodolpho, and he was wearing the same exact outfit when he came to see me and paid me to help him find a potion that’s supposed to allow vampires to walk in the sun.”
For a moment, there was nothing but silence from his brothers, and then everyone but Dhiraj burst out laughing.
“A daywalking potion? Tha’ dosenae exist! It’s a myth!”
“What… what’s the meaning of this?” Etienne’s demand came out high and squeaky, lessening the overall effect. “Miss Gray, you are in violation of our confidentiality agreement!”
Kerrigan blew a raspberry at the foppish vampire. “That went out the window the second you walked into my office wearing the rubies I gave to Maksim. When did Dhiraj give them to you?”
Maksim watched Etienne fight the urge to look at Dhiraj, his blue eyes wide with false surprise.
“Who is Dhiraj?”
“Come off it, Etienne.” Dhiraj sighed. “They know.”
Etienne went from frightened to furious in an instant, hissing at Dhriaj like a snake.
“You told them?”
“The moment Kerrigan told me you brazenly flashed my ruby tie pin and cufflinks at her, I knew,” Maksim voiced coldly. “I’ll be having those back immediately.”
The two guards didn’t give Etienne the opportunity to refuse, tearing at his cuffs and tie to pull the gems off. Maksim held his hand out, showing the three small items to Kerrigan for her approval.
She took the tie bar and held it up to the light, showing Maksim something he himself hadn’t even realized was there.
Etched into the stone, only revealed by the light, were their initials separated by a small heart.
K loves M.
Understanding Kerrigan had given him a gift more precious than rubies that night at the opera pushed aside Maksim’s feelings of rage, betrayal, and the deep-seated need for retribution in favor of loving her.
“We have a nice dungeon in the sub-basement, Father,” Thomas offered with an unkind smile. “I can’t tell you how much it would please me to dispense a little justice.”
“Justice,” Maksim repeated, looking to Dhiraj, wondering why he hadn’t made any attempt to escape or to fight.
“The dungeon will do for now. And what are we going to do with you, Dhiraj?”
Dhiraj shrugged, apathetic, completely unconcerned with reprisal for his betrayal.
“You’re not going to do anything.”
“Did you eat someone on drugs tonight?” Isaiah demanded as he aggressively took steps toward Dhiraj.
“Of course not, but Maksim isn’t going to sacrifice his Bride simply to take his pound of flesh.” Despite the way Virico and Aubin both grabbed hold of him, Dhiraj exuded nothing but confidence.
Hector blurred to snatch Dhiraj up by the throat, his muscles bulging as he lifted Dhiraj up into the air to shake him like a ragdoll.
“What the hell did ye do?”
“If any of you kill me, the compulsion I laced into her mind will ensure she takes her own life immediately.” Dhiraj actually had the gall to smile.
Maksim threw out his arm to push Kerrigan behind him as though he could protect her from what Dhiraj had already done, but he should have known better than to think Kerrigan would be so easily cowed.
“If any of us kill you, meaning anyone in this room, or your brothers specifically?” Kerrigan clarified.
With Hector’s hand squeezed so tight around Dhiraj’s throat, the answer came out as more of a wheeze.
“Anyone in this room.”
*****
Quentin caught her gaze and dipped his chin, his voice winging across the air between them, but his lips didn’t move at all.
I was dead long before he compelled you to suffer, Kerrigan.
“Well, then,” Kerrigan declared. “That’s some kind of poetic justice. Please put him down, Hector.”
“Why? Ye gonna go all black eyes and break his bones? Cause if ye are, I wholeheartedly approve, lass,” Hector replied vindictively.
Virico raised his hand. “I vote for torture.”
“As do I,” Aubin echoed mercilessly.
Isaiah shook his head in disgust. “He’s more than earned it, Maksim, but I cannot stomach torturing another one of our brothers. Even with what he’s done, I would prefer a clean death. I can try to reverse what he’s done to your Bride—”
“You know that’s impossible,” Maksim snapped. “There is no reversing the thrall unless the vampire who placed the compulsion chooses to remove it.”
Dhiraj smirked finally, clearly thinking he’d won this round. Kerrigan was all too pleased to burst his bubble.
“It’s a moot point for now,” Aubin declared arrogantly. “Neither Maksim nor Thomas have given their vote on what’s to be done with Dhiraj.”
Thomas rocked back on his heels with a shake of his head.
“I side with my maker, always.”
Isaiah muttered something that sounded like, “Ass kisser.”
Maksim’s arm tightened around her waist, his voice dark and deadly. “Until I can find a way to sever whatever hold Dhiraj has on Kerrigan’s subconscious, he will stay in the dungeon.
"He will desiccate just as I did, and feel the burn of silver in the empty sockets where his eyes should have been, just as I did. For now, it will suffice.”
Virico huffed, shaking his head in silent disagreement. Aubin muttered a string of curses under his breath, Hector refused to put Dhiraj down, and Isaiah dropped his head forward with a tired sigh.
Thomas, ever curious, leaned around Maks to look at Kerrigan.
“What did you mean when you said this was poetic justice?”
Kerrigan wiggled her fingers at Dhiraj. “Quentin wasn’t alive when Dhiraj put the whammy on me.”
Dhiraj didn’t stop smiling, but like the rest of the vampires, he gave her a confused look.
“He’s not alive now,” Virico pointed out, as though she were unaware. “He’s a ghost.”
Kerrigan tipped her head to the side and fluttered her lashes like an airhead. “You say that like he has no power anymore.”
Virico shook his head and lifted his brows to sarcastically repeat himself.
“He’s a ghost.”
Grinding her teeth, Kerrigan looked up at Maksim with a narrow-eyed glare. “I’m getting real sick and tired of your brothers looking at me like I’m a cute little Goth bunny, Maksim.”
Maksim pressed his hand to his heart and gave a gentlemanly bow. “Please forgive them, love. They’re all absolute fools. What would you have me do with Dhiraj?”
Her response wasn’t for Maksim’s benefit, so much as the others, but s
he still saw the way Maksim flinched and how his eyes practically blazed with murderous intent.
“As long as he’s alive, I’ll have to fight the compulsion he forced on me. I’ve fought it every day for twelve years, I’m fighting it now, and at some point, I worry I won’t be able to keep fighting.”
“Then it’s no choice at all,” Maksim insisted. “He dies.”
“So, we’re back to torture then?” Isaiah snapped peevishly. “We’re going to torture Dhiraj until he chooses to off himself?”
Kerrigan tore out of Maksim’s hold to stamp her foot with a sound of affront.
“What is so difficult to understand about the word ‘necromancer?’ I mean, seriously, have you never seen one in action before?”
Isaiah’s lashes fluttered in response to her aggressive tone.
“Um, no. I haven’t.”
“Well, fine then. If everyone is in agreement that Dhiraj is done for, I’ll show you. Are we doing this now, Maks?” Kerrigan glanced over her shoulder at him for permission.
Maks inclined his head and sentenced his brother to die right then and there. “At your pleasure, Kerrigan. Hector, put him down, but don’t let go.”
“You can’t do anything to me,” Dhiraj drawled mockingly.
Kerrigan rolled her eyes and waved her hand at where Quentin still stood, patiently waiting.
“I’m not going to do anything. He is.”
“He’s a ghost,” Virico said again, enunciating like she was a complete boob.
“Nek-ro-mancer,” Kerrigan enunciated in turn, writing him off with a click of her tongue. “Quentin, are you ready?”
“Oh yes,” Quentin purred, wickedly grinning at Dhiraj.
Kerrigan raised her hand and altered the space around Quentin’s spirit, anchoring him to the mortal plain.
“Quentin Ignatius Van Horn. I give you the power to take revenge upon the one who murdered you. You have twenty minutes.”
Quentin scoffed, “Baby, I can do it in ten.”
So saying, the dead witch surged forward in a blur and slammed into Dhiraj with enough force to send the vampire flying.
Dhiraj landed with a loud grunt, writhing around on the floor as though in the grip of a grand mal seizure.
