Bewitched, Bothered, and Bitten (21 page)

T
he room was
dark when I awoke and I was alone in the bed. I shifted, reaching an arm out for the lamp, but encountered only empty air. I suddenly realized that the sheets beneath me felt different, silk rather than high quality cotton. And Finn’s distinctive vanilla and spice scent was absent.

I froze, frantically searching my memory. How did I get here, wherever
here
was? My blood turned to ice as the sound of someone breathing reached my ears. I desperately wanted to ask who was in the darkness, but some instinct told me I really didn’t want to know.

A low, masculine voice uttered a single word, so softly that I couldn’t catch what he was saying. A single candle flared to life on a table across the room, then, in a slow wave, more candles were lit around the perimeter of the room. Lastly, in a small fireplace to my right, a log began to crackle merrily as it burst into flame.

My eyes searched the shadows, looking for the man who’d spoken. Gradually, his shape was revealed as he moved forward from the corner and sat on a chair next to the table that held the first candle. I stopped breathing when I realized I was face-to-face with the black-eyed vampire who had killed Saundra.

My first impulse was to spit out the strongest, nastiest spell I could muster, but I managed to control it. The soft, unfocused quality of the candle light and the lack of any other sounds or scents in the room told me I was asleep and likely still snuggled up to Finn in his bed.

So we stared at each other, his onyx eyes glittering blankly in the light, until he smiled. I felt chills crawl up my spine when I recognized that the gesture didn’t touch his cold eyes. He was dead inside, so filled with evil that its presence was the only thing keeping his body moving and his heart beating.

“Good evening, Kerry.”

I didn’t respond to his greeting, not even a blink of my eyelids.

The practiced smile fell from his lips as he continued to study me. “It’s rude not to return a greeting,” he chastened.

“It’s also rude to invade another witch’s dreams without permission or invitation,” I responded, keeping my voice evenly modulated. He wanted me to feel as though I were at a disadvantage and off balance. Though it was working, I’d had years of pretending that ugly whispers and attempts to make me uncomfortable didn’t exist. I had plenty of practice at hiding my true feelings.

“Touché.” He leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs. He put out his hand, as though he were reaching for something on the table and I watched in surprise as a high ball glass appeared in his grasp. He sipped the amber contents, watching me carefully over the rim.

Striving to appear as relaxed as he did, I bent my legs, resting my elbows on my knees, and folding my arms on top of them. “I assume you brought me here for a purpose. Would you mind telling me what that reason is?”

He tilted his head. The gesture, combined with his emotionless eyes, reminded me of a bird of prey just before it swooped in on its next meal. “I have an offer for you, from my master.” When I didn’t respond, he continued, “He would like you to consider joining us and he’s prepared to pay you handsomely for your help.”

I arched my eyebrows. “What sort of payment? Money? Gold? Jewels?”

He sipped his drink again before answering. “Yes, as well as immortality and power beyond your wildest imaginings.”

“I’m sure,” I muttered, knowing I would likely be killed as soon as I no longer served a purpose or forced to commit atrocities for centuries until I went mad from the blackness that would eat at my soul. I took a deep breath, making every effort to project the calm self-assurance that Belinda seemed to possess. “You may tell your….master that I thank him for his offer but I will have to respectfully decline.”

For the first time, his small smile reached his eyes. “That sounded very much like a
fuck you
wrapped up in pretty language.”

I shrugged. “Take it as you will.”

He laughed, the sound rich and resonate. “You are a great deal like your father, Kerry Gayle. He too had fire and spirit.”

I couldn’t hide my shock at his words. “You knew my father?” I tried to wipe all emotion from my face but knew I failed miserably.

He inclined his head. “Yes. It was my intention to turn him, but he died before my plans came to fruition.”

I frowned at him. “What is your name?”

“Ah, finally, you ask for my name. I was beginning to feel hurt at your oversight.” He set his glass on the table before folding both of his hands in his lap. “You may call me Dante.”

Something about that name jogged my memory, but I couldn’t quite place where I’d heard it before. Maybe from my mother or father or perhaps somewhere else.

“So, is this the fifth circle of Hell?” I quipped, trying to hide the fact that I was searching my brain for any hint as to where I’d heard someone mention a warlock named Dante.

His eyes narrowed. “Anger? No. Perhaps the seventh.”

“Violence?” I queried.

He smiled again, once more seeming genuinely amused. “You know Dante.”

I didn’t respond. My knowledge of the
Divine Comedy
extended to the excerpts we read in school and the Cliff Notes I’d bought to help me comprehend what I was reading because I was lazy as a teenager and tried to get by putting forth as little effort as possible.

“Please consider my master’s offer, Kerry Gayle. You are the first person in twenty-five years to make me feel sincere amusement. I would find it distasteful to harm you.”

Ah, here was the threat I’d expected upon awakening in this place. “Harm me? I thought your master merely wanted to ask me if I was interested in joining his ranks. I’ve politely refused, so why would anything more be necessary?”

Dante’s face once again fell into the cold mask he usually wore. “You know why.”

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t,” I lied.

His eyes flashed, glowing like obsidian in the candlelight, a sure sign I was digging down into a place of his soul that I’d believed to be dead. It seemed it had merely been dormant and there was more to Dante than his obvious impassivity. “Don’t pretend ignorance, dearest, it doesn’t become you.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

It seemed all the years of practice I’d had at pushing Belinda’s buttons and irritating the coven elders was coming in handy now. Dante’s eyes veritably sparked with ire. “Do not toy with me,
witch
, you will not win.”

I leaned forward, savoring my final dig. “I’m sure I would,
bloodsucker
, because I did before. Or have you forgotten the vampires you brought to my cottage who are no longer in your ranks?”

Before he could respond, I reached down and pinched my inner thigh hard enough to bring tears to my eyes. Sticking around after such an inflammatory remark would be a colossally bad idea.

Gasping, I jerked awake, the tender skin of my upper thigh stinging viciously. I was in Finn’s bed, his large body spooning me from behind. I panted as my eyes scanned the dim room nervously, half afraid that Dante had somehow followed me back here.

Finn shifted behind me and the warm glow of the lamp filled the room. He rolled me over to my back.

“Did you have another nightmare?” he asked, concern and tenderness in his gaze.

I swallowed hard and shook my head, not trusting my voice just yet. Despite my bravado when faced with Dante, my heart was racing with fear and it would take me a few moments to gain my composure. I cleared my throat, but I still sounded hoarse when I spoke. “He came to me in my dream.”

Finn went rigid as he leaned over me. “Who?”

“The vampire warlock who killed Saundra and came for me. He calls himself Dante. He invaded my dreams.”

“That’s not possible. The wards and protection on this house are almost impenetrable. Only a witch as strong as you could break them and, even then, it would take a great deal of time. Enough that I would have time to stop them.”

As my body and mind calmed, an idea came to me and I hated to think it was a possibility. “Not necessarily,” I whispered.

He looked down at me, his purple eyes burning. “What do you mean?”

“There may be a way around the wards, but it requires black magic.” I paused. “However, it means that I’ve been betrayed by one of my own people, because the only way the witch could have gotten around the spell was if I brought the talisman into your home.”

“Talisman? As in a Hangman’s Talisman?”

I nodded. A Hangman’s Talisman was created using the hair and skin of a person who recently died and it could link a witch to whomever carried it. They could be found at any time or place by the witch that enchanted the talisman. The closer to the time of death, the stronger the magic. It was called the Hangman’s Talisman because, in centuries past, black witches and warlocks often harvested the hair and skin of those who were hung or drowned during the witch hunts.

Considering talismans were meant to be a protection against evil, I thought that whoever named the spell had a dark sense of humor or a well-developed sense of irony.

I sat up, throwing my legs over the side of the bed. “We need to find it and destroy it.”

Finn followed suit.

“Let’s start with the bag I carried to the meeting. I would have found it if it had been tucked into my clothing.”

We hurried downstairs to the sun room and I removed everything from my bag, even checking the lining and stitching. There was nothing there. I hadn’t left Finn’s house since the day of the coven meeting and only a few people had come and gone in the last two weeks.

Frustrated, I slammed my bag down on the desk and my eyes fell on the stack of books that Belinda had brought to me. Some of them were from her personal library, but a few were housed in the coven’s library. I very much doubted that the High Priestess would betray me, but any of the witches in the coven would have had access to a few of the books.

I grabbed one of the library texts and began to page through it, checking the front cover and between the paper to see if a talisman had been tucked inside. I turned the book upside down and shook it. Nothing. I ran my hands over the binding and the inside and outside of the hard cover but it didn’t seem as though it had been tampered with.

I moved on to another coven library book. Still nothing. However, as I went through the third, I felt my fingertips tingle and knew that the Hangman’s Talisman was somewhere inside. It wasn’t pressed between the pages, but, when I smoothed my hand over the inside of the back cover, I felt the tingles sharpen into a sting as my fingers brushed small raised bumps beneath the paper that lined the inner cover.

I found a letter opener and gently began to pry the liner away from the hard cover. Whoever had inserted the talisman hadn’t glued the paper back very well, so it pulled away easily. There, lying along the bottom edge of the book cover, was the talisman. Strands of hair, preserved skin, and herbs were twisted together in a small braid. I felt my stomach heave at the sight, but forced myself to study the nasty little piece of magic. My heart stopped beating as I recognized the shade of the hair and the slightly wavy texture.

“Dear Goddess,” I breathed. “They used Saundra’s hair and skin.”

Unable to control the nausea any longer, I dashed to the powder room down the hall and collapsed on my knees in front of the toilet. Though there wasn’t much of anything in my stomach, I emptied the bile and continued to dry heave for long minutes. When the painful expulsion finally eased, I realized that Finn was crouched behind me, holding my hair back and pressing a cool, damp cloth to the back of my neck.

When I calmed, he handed me the cloth so I could wipe my face. He helped me to my feet so I could rinse out my mouth and splash my face with cold water.

Once I finished, I leaned against the sink, meeting Finn’s eyes in the mirror in front of me. “I have to call Belinda immediately. If someone managed to get a Hangman’s Talisman to me, I’m sure they would have attempted to do so with her as well.”

Finn helped me into the kitchen and sat me at the kitchen table as though I were aged or infirm. Then he went upstairs to retrieve my burner phone and brought it back down to me. “I’ll make some tea while you call Belinda.”

I nodded absently as I selected her name from my speed dial list. The phone rang and rang until I thought it was going to be picked up by voicemail. At the last moment, the line clicked and I could hear breathing on the other end.

“Belinda?” I asked. “Can you hear me?”

Instead of the High Priestess’ voice as I expected, the low, smooth tone of a man came through the speaker. “Thank you for calling, dearest, but Belinda is indisposed at the moment.” Then he ended the call.

I stared at Finn from across the room, horror filling me. “It’s too late. Dante has Belinda.”

A split second later, Finn’s phone rang. His eyes narrowed when he checked the Caller ID. “It’s Conner.” He lifted the phone to his ear. “Hello?” He paused, listening to whatever Conner was saying. “We’ll be there soon.”

Finn hung up, already moving in my direction. Helping me to my feet, he said, “One of Conner’s men turned. He and Donna are fine, but Ricki and Shannon were injured. Conner said…” he hesitated, “Conner said that Shannon’s injuries seem minor but Ricki is likely dying. He said that there isn’t much he can do short of changing her and Calder is resisting. I need you to gather whatever healing spells, herbs, and potions you have here. You’ll need them.” His eyes were worried. “Hurry.”

I felt adrenaline and terror flood my veins. The prophecy was coming to pass. Ricki was seriously hurt, probably dying. I ran from the kitchen, hoping like hell we wouldn’t be too late.