Bewitched, Bothered, and Bitten (27 page)

Other than the fact that Donna would probably break the coffee pot over his head for making such an offer without talking to her first, I didn’t particularly want Sharon to stick around long enough to drink a beverage of any kind.

“No, thank you. We’ll be keeping this visit short. I know there are many things to be decided today.” I turned toward the short hall that led from the foyer to the study. “Sharon, if you would follow me.”

She stopped short when Finn fell in step behind us. “I refuse to have this conversation with
him
in the room.”

I glanced over my shoulder, arching my brows. “
Him
? You mean Finn?”

Sharon’s eyes moved nervously over to my mate but she nodded. “Though the coven may have agreed to an alliance with the vampires, there are certain things in our group that should remain private,” she answered stiffly.

She had a point so I nodded at Finn. “It’s okay. We’ll only be a few minutes.”

He didn’t look pleased but I widened my eyes, giving him a pointed stare. Not five minutes ago we’d been discussing my responsibilities as High Priestess and he was already resisting that boundary.

Finally, he grunted. “I’ll be in the kitchen with Conner.” Then he walked away.

Sharon watched him go and seemed to relax in relief when he was out of sight. She turned back to me. “Thank you.”

That was probably the first time the woman had thanked me for anything. I shrugged, leading her into the study. “You should try to get used to being around vampires. With all the changes in the coven, the witches will be interacting with them more and more.”

She didn’t answer, merely came into the room and shut the door behind her.

Deciding to leave that argument for another day, I moved to the sofa on one side of the room and sat. I gestured to the seat beside me.

Sharon settled beside me, her expression revealing a mixture of emotions; fear, anger, resignation, all tinged with excitement. It put me on edge.

“What can I do for you?” I asked, folding my hands in my lap and crossing my ankles in a very lady like pose. Two days on the job, and I was already emulating Belinda’s mannerisms. Though she would have at least offered a guest some water, so maybe I wasn’t quite as well-mannered.

Sharon put her hands over mine, her face melting into an earnest expression. “I’m begging you to reconsider this alliance with the Council and the MacIntire pack. There are reasons that witches stopped interacting with them all those centuries ago. Now is not the time to make these changes.”

I tried to slide my hands away from hers, but her grip was painfully tight. I spoke in a low voice, hoping to talk her down from this ledge she seemed to be on. “Sharon, you know I can’t do that. It’s time for the entire supernatural community to move into the new millennium. The Council and the pack agree with that assessment. They are willing to compromise in order for this to work. We have to be as well.”

Her face tightened, a malicious gleam filling her eyes. “I knew you would say that,” she mumbled.

I felt a shaft of fear, wondering not for the first time if Sharon intended to do me harm in order to have her way. I opened my mouth to cast and tried to yank my hands free, but she seemed to have bone-crushing strength in her hands.

I cried out in pain as I felt something in my wrist give way.

Sharon grinned maniacally, reaching into her coat pocket and pulling out a small potion bottle. Just as the study door flew open to reveal Finn and Conner, she smashed the bottle to the ground, the rancid scent of herbs and rot filling the air. She shouted an invocation and I watched in horror as the room began spin and fade.

Then there was nothing but blackness encasing me. The suffocating darkness seemed to last for minutes rather than a few seconds before a room began to form around us. My heart stopped beating when I recognized it from the dream I’d had just two nights ago.

I heard a door open to my right and turned my head. Dante stood there, dressed in a black shirt and slacks. He looked cold and dangerous, like a snake coiled prepared to strike.

“Hello, darling,” he crooned. “I’m so glad to see you made it safely.”

Before I could say the spell on the tip of my tongue, Sharon threw a handful of something in my face, using a one-word invocation. My entire body locked. I couldn’t speak or move. I could breathe and felt my heart beating hard and fast behind my ribs. Then I realized what she had done and was torn between the intense desire to scream and laugh simultaneously.

The powdery substance coating my burning eyes was graveyard dirt mixed with something else. I couldn’t even blink away the sting. The traitorous bitch had cast a binding spell on me.

My eyes cut to the side, where Sharon hovered in my peripheral vision, a smug smile on her face. Though I’d never killed anyone except in self-defense, I decided in that moment that I would be the one to end her. In coven law, the punishment for treason was death, though the entire coven usually gathered together to brew the poison that the convicted would drink. Death was quick and painless.

Looking at her, knowing that she was the reason Belinda was dead, death by poison sounded too easy. Burning at the stake seemed a great deal more appropriate.

Under my unblinking stare, Sharon’s smile began to fade and Dante laughed. The sound froze the blood in my veins. It was actually quite beautiful to hear, deep and rich, but completely empty, devoid of any sort of true amusement or enjoyment.

“I’d say your days are numbered, witch,” he said gleefully. “I can feel her hatred from across the room. Having seen her in action, it almost makes me sad to do this.”

My eyes wheeled in their sockets, focusing on him instead of Sharon. In a motion so quick that I couldn’t register more than a blur, Dante lunged across the room and plunged a dagger in her heart.

I tried to feel pity when her head lolled, our gazes meeting. As I watched the light fade from her eyes, I only felt satisfaction and it scared the shit out of me.

A
fter killing Sharon,
Dante carried her body from the room. I strained against the binding spell, hoping that Sharon’s death would have weakened it but it was futile.

A few minutes later, the vampire warlock returned to the room, carrying a wet cloth in one hand and a towel in the other. Every cell in my body wanted to quail as he approached me, but the spell held me fast.

Unexpectedly gentle, he wiped the dirt away from my eyes with the damp cloth and then produced a bottle of eye wash from his pocket. Holding the towel beneath my eyes, he washed the fine grains of dirt from my eyes with the solution, then blotted them dry. I still had dirt on the rest of my face and in my mouth, but I knew he wouldn’t clean it off. There was something in this graveyard dirt that made the binding especially strong.

Dante never spoke a single word as he tended to me. When he was satisfied with his ministrations, he laid the towel, cloth, and eye wash on the table by the chair he sat in during my dream. Stepping back, he lifted a finger to his chin, tapping it as he studied me.

I despised feeling like a sculpture left out for his approval. Bound as I was, there was little I could do to save myself. I felt the hard lump of my cell phone vibrate once in my pocket and felt a surge of hope. Conner and Finn could trace my location using my cell. Hopefully, that would be the first thing they would do. As long as Dante hadn’t heard the subtle sound of my phone shuddering in my pocket.

“So much strength contained in such a meek looking package,” he murmured. “Yet, here you are, bound completely before me.”

His taunt pierced my chest, making me forget all about the pain in my wrist, as well as my possible rescue, and released the rage in my heart. It flowed like hot lava through my veins, bringing with it the darkest sort of power. He turned away and I blinked at his back.

Then I realized I
blinked
. Just minutes ago my eyes felt as though they were frozen open and now I could control my lids. Perhaps I had a way to counteract the spell holding me in place.

Quickly, I fixed my eyes open when Dante turned back toward me.

“The Slayer has been waiting for his opportunity to speak to you. He thinks perhaps I was too….insistent with my last proposal.” He must have sensed my confusion since I couldn’t change the expression on my face. “My master is the Slayer.”

It was probably a good thing I couldn’t move or speak because I really wanted to snort. His
master’s
name was Cornelius. I’m not sure how he obtained the name of The Slayer, but it was likely a moniker he’d chosen himself, just like the cocky guys in high school.

The door opened once again, and one of the most beautiful men I’d ever seen entered the room, and that was saying something since every vampire on the Council could be a GQ model. I caught myself before I could blink in shock.

Unlike Finn, his beauty was ethereal, almost androgynous. He looked like an angel, with short platinum hair clipped close to his head and incredibly bright blue eyes. They were a shade darker than Conner’s, but no less arresting. His brows were perfectly arched and, like his eyelashes, a few shades darker than his hair. His face was narrow but made striking by his high cheekbones, slightly hollow cheeks, and sensuously curved mouth. He had the type of face that would have been beautiful to behold no matter his gender.

He smiled serenely at me as he came abreast of Dante. When he looked away, I felt as though I’d been holding my breath for a long time and had just taken a full one. Without his appearance and the weight of his gaze to distract me, I could sense something different in him. He was a vampire, but he was also more. His very essence seemed to expand around him and it felt ancient and powerful.

Cornelius looked at me again, his ocean blue eyes snaring me, pulling me in. They seemed to offer me anything and everything I could ever want. All he needed in return was my undying devotion, my very soul.

As he came closer, I fell deeper into his thrall. Warmth and contentment rose within me and I would gladly give him anything he demanded to continue to bathe in the peace he offered.

Cornelius lifted a hand and stroked my cheek. “Such a pretty little witch,” he murmured. “I’m glad you finally came to see me.”

It was his attempt to gloss over what Sharon had done that helped me separate from his enchantment slightly. Though his words were welcoming, they didn’t ring true.

I let myself slide along the leading edge of his power, testing it and tasting it, trying to figure out exactly what he was. Then I recognized him and fear crashed through me like a squall on the ocean, uncontrollable and shrieking.

I had underestimated my enemy. Cornelius had earned the title of The Slayer countless times over. He was the last of the soul eaters.

The soul eater was cursed to devour the souls of others in order to continue their eternal existence. They were extremely difficult to create and most had died out centuries ago. They were the one supernatural entity, other than demons, that preyed on humans, vampires, werewolves, and witches alike.

The Slayer’s smile was angelic. “You know what I am now, do you not?” he asked.

I couldn’t respond because of the binding spell, but he seemed to intuit my response.

“Do you fear me, little witch?” he asked, leaning forward so our cheeks brushed and his lips were beside my ear. “You should.”

The fear that cascaded through me waned slightly. I realized that he needed me for some reason. If he didn’t, he would have just killed me. If the Faction knew about the prophecy, than taking any one of us out of the equation would be all it took to turn the tide their way.

The knowledge calmed me somewhat. I was still wary of him, but knew that my death wasn’t in the immediate future. I cautiously drew at my power, pushing at the spell that bound me. My toes flexed slightly within my shoes.

Cornelius turned and spoke to Dante. “I would like to hear what she has to say when I ask her questions.”

The warlock nodded. He spoke a few words and my head was suddenly free of the invisible vise holding it still.

“Tell me, Kerry, what do you know of your father?”

I forced down the angry response that crawled up my throat. I still hadn’t regained complete control of my body and I didn’t want to antagonize him until I could protect myself. “Not much. He died when I was eight.”

Cornelius tilted his head, his eyes earnest. “How did he die?”

If this asshole wanted to torture me, he was doing a good job. I never talked about my dad or his death. I hadn’t even brought it up with Finn. It was too painful and a strong reminder that I had both good and evil sharing space within my body and soul.

“He died when a spell went awry.”

Cornelius clucked his tongue at me. “Now, now, I think you’re omitting some very important details. I mean, one doesn’t usually die performing a typical spell, do they?”

I shook my head. I felt my pinkie twitch as I subconsciously fought the hold the spell had on me. All I had to do was talk about the darkest day of my life for a little longer until I was free.