Taken by Moonlight (58 page)

She tried
to call her druid, and found her silent. There were no chants, no whispers. It
was as if the darkness inside her never was.

Panicked,
she tried her mental connection with Conall. She couldn’t reach him. Vivienne
put up another futile struggle against the gold bonds securing her before
giving up. Instead she settled for looking around. The room was dark,
pitch-black, but she could hear the wind howling, which meant she was in a room
above the ground. She continued to listen, and heard what sounded like voices,
faint
,
just below her window. Focusing on the voices, she listened carefully, and was
glad to find that her heightened senses were still working, if barely.

“So, we’re
just patrolling tonight? That’s it?” This voice belonged to a male, and from
the lackluster excitement, Vivienne dismissed him as young, possibly in his
twenties.

“Yes. I’ve
told you that ten times already,” a female replied in a clipped, hushed tone.
She had a polished accent, but Vivienne couldn’t pinpoint it.

“Why? It’s
not like she can escape the chains before tomorrow. They’re made just for her
kind.”

Vivienne
looked down at the bonds. Well, that would explain why she couldn’t break out
of them.

“Well,
we’re here to make sure that if she does, she doesn’t get very far. Correct?”

“Yeah. I
guess.”

Silence
fanned the air, and Vivienne tried to listen for voices further out. She could
make out nothing but the wind, and even that had begun to fade as she went
farther.

Closing her
eyes, she shook her head. It would have been a better idea to wait for Conall,
to tell him what Maximilian Cronin had suggested. Even if she’d still run into
the trap, Conall might be able to piece some of the information together. He’d
be able to follow her. Now, he was probably going insane trying to figure out
where she’d slipped off to. If he wasn’t too angry—

“So, after
this whole business, how long do you think the grand wizard’s going to keep us
here?”

“I don’t
know how long your grand wizard will keep you here.”

“I hope we
stay for a few more days. It’s England and I’ve never been here before. My
Mom—”

“Silence!”
It was a hiss, and it was followed by a thud, as if the female had grown tired
of the incessant yapping and shoved him into something. “Be quiet or I’ll shut
your mouth permanently.” There was another thud. “Understood?”

“Yeah,
yeah. I got it.”

They didn’t
speak for the rest of the time but Vivienne had gotten a vital piece of
information. She was somewhere in England which meant that Cronin had lured her
to the airport in order to toss her on a plane and bring her here. But for what
purpose? Something told her she would find out soon enough.

There was
officially a disturbance in the New York Council. On the plane, Conall had
placed a call to Agar to inform the Elder that he was going to kill Cronin, and
possibly the other two grand wizards, and anyone else who stood between him and
his mate. He’d briefed Agar on the situation, and the Elder, while he didn’t
seem to approve, had not disapproved either. Approval or not, Conall meant what
he’d said. If, when he returned with Vivienne, he left a trail of dead witches
behind, so be it. If the Council dissolved, they would either find new grand
wizards, or figure something else out.

“So, what
do we do?” The question came from Santiago, who was perched on a leather chair,
one black boot on the edge of a coffee table. Santiago had followed him to London while Dominic and Drako remained in New York. It would be foolish for all four of
the New York alphas to leave the country. There were rogue packs who dreamed of
such an opportunity. He’d even left Sloan to act in his stead, bringing Raoul
and fifteen of his best hunters instead.

“We wait.”

This came
from the six-foot-seven blond giant perched against the large desk in his
study. Straightening to his full height, Eirik approached Santiago, and with a
slight flick of his wrist, removed the other man’s foot from the lacquered
coffee table.

Glares were
exchanged, but instead of slewing profanity, Santiago growled, “How long?”

“Until one
of his people messes up, which should be soon. We can sniff them out, but that
would take longer.”

Even with
the thirty-odd wolves gathered in Eirik Lieverson’s London townhouse, it would
take days to pinpoint a scent, and have it lead them somewhere successful.
There were witches from other covenants in London, and their scents, mingled
with those of humans, vampires, and everything else in the city would lead to
many false places.

“And how do
you know someone from his covenant will mess up?” Raoul countered from his
space behind Conall.

Eirik
turned his attention to the Spaniard, and smiled, revealing gleaming canines.
He’d just opened his mouth to answer when a firm, feminine voice chimed,
“Because they always do when they first come to London. They think it’s like
the cities in the States, where a scent can be lost almost instantly.
Especially the amateurs. If we patrol tonight we’re bound to find one of them.
With the right amount of persuasion, he’ll tell us everything he knows.”

“That’s
leaving it up to chance. This is my mate’s life we’re talking about.” Conall
growled. He didn’t like this plan. He didn’t like this plan one bit.

Astrid
turned to face him. She was the only female pack alpha in the UK, one of three in total, and she was by far the most beautiful. The daughter of an Amazon and a
Viking, Astrid looked otherworldly even among immortals. Although she had pale
features, from her skin to her pale green eyes, her lips were thick, her cheeks
high, traits from her mother’s people. Even her flaxen hair was curly, loose
ringlets she usually kept bound and piled atop her head.

“We
understand, Athelwulf. You are naturally afraid for your mate. But this is our
territory, and we have seen it before. Before the day is over, we will know the
location of your mate.” She approached him slowly, before dipping her head and
placing a small but strong hand on his shoulder. “On my honor.”

He nodded
once. There weren’t many options. He was in unfamiliar territory. He’d tried
his bond with Vivienne to pinpoint a location, but it was as if she never
existed. Had they completed the mating ceremony, he might have been able to
pick up a faint trail. Conall couldn’t tell if she was dead or alive…. But she
must be alive, if only because Cronin needed her and her sister to resurrect
the druids.

Conall felt
helpless. If Eirik and Astrid were both endorsing this plan, he’d go with it.
Once they helped him find his mate and locate the bastard who’d taken her, he’d
go along with anything.

“Learn it.”

Vivienne
stared down at the spell book before glaring up at the man in distaste. Her
mother had always told her to respect her elders, but if not for these chains,
she would have kicked his ass somewhere far. Her druid might have retreated but
her rage was still there.

“Why should
I?”

“Because if
you don’t, I’ll kill your mother.”

She
scoffed, and Cronin lifted a brow. “Learn it.”

“No.”

His lip
curled slightly, and then he called for someone. Moments later, Evelyn was
brought in by two trackers. An involuntary scream left Vivienne’s lips at her
mother’s state. She was still dressed in the same clothes she’d been taken in,
but they were ragged and bloodied, as if something or someone had attacked her.
She wasn’t walking either, but being dragged. When the trackers finally
stopped, Evelyn’s head continued to hang forward as if the effort required to
lift it was simply too much. Black hair curtained her head, blocking her face
from view.

“
Learn
.
It
.”
Maximilian pummeled his cane against the page in the spell
book.

Vivienne
wasn’t listening to him. She stood, rattling the chains that held her, and
whispered, “Mom?”

Evelyn’s
only response was jerk of her head.

“What have
you done to her?”

He smiled
and replied, “Nothing she won’t survive.” The smile faded and he looked down to
the book. “Pick it up.”

When
Vivienne didn’t move quickly enough, he nodded to one of the trackers, who
retrieved a shiny dagger. The other tracker dragged her mother up, exposing her
dirtied and bloodied face, as well as her neck.

Evelyn
barely opened her eyes, squinting against the light. Her gaze locked on
Vivienne and her lips moved, but no sound emerged. Still, a little smile curled
them up.

“What will
it be, Vivienne? Learn the spell or lose your mother.”

Swallowing,
Vivienne turned to him. Her body was shaking as she said, “You are an evil
bastard.”

“Actually,
according to my birth records, I’m quite legitimate,” he responded coolly.
“What choice will you make?”

She reached
down for the spell book, and quickly scanned the Latin words. It wasn’t a long
spell, barely five lines, with the word, “reddo” at the end.
Repeat.

“It won’t
work while I wear these chains,” she said softly.

Cronin
laughed. “And you would like me to remove them so that you can destroy me, and
possibly my entire covenant? How stupid you think me.” The laughter
disappeared. “I’ll return in a few hours, and you’ll repeat that spell to me
verbatim. If not, your mother dies.”

He turned
when Vivienne asked in a low voice, “Why?”

Motioning
to the trackers, he waited until they’d removed Evelyn from the room. As he
approached Vivienne, she shrank back against the wall.

A bony hand
caressed her cheek, making her skin crawl, and he answered, “Why else? It’s
unfair that I wither like this while you and your kind remain flawless
throughout your life.” He smiled even as his eyes grew colder. “You will never
know aches, never fear human diseases, never need to work a spell that will
prolong your life. And after tomorrow, neither will I.”

With that,
he stepped back before walking to the door.

“Learn that
spell, Vivienne.”

Ryan
Delluci staggered as he left the pub, a human “blonde” on his arm, chatting up
a storm in his ear. She wasn’t a true blonde, from the telltale dark roots of
her hair, but what did he care? If it looked like a blonde, talked like a
blonde—his thought pattern gave out somewhere in that saying and he chuckled.
He’d lied to her, told her he was in London on business for his company, and
she’d gobbled it up.

“So, where
d’you live?” the blonde asked the moment they were out in the cold night air.

“Take me to
your place,” he replied instead. He’d gone on break a few hours ago, and
because everyone else was being a stick, choosing to stay in the boring
countryside, he decided to go out alone. He’d never been to London, just as
he’d told that lesbian tracker who’d kept riding his ass, and he wanted to
enjoy it.

“I live
over by King’s Cross. We’ll need a black car.”

“Black
car?”

“Taxi?
Cab?”

“Sure,
babe. Whatever you say.”

“I don’t
have any more money—”

“I’ll pay.”

She hugged
him closer. “You are sweet.”

He kissed
her, tasting the chick-drink he’d gotten her. It was coconut-based and sugary.
Something with a stupid name that would not affect any immortal, or previous
immortal. It had taken an entire bottle of Jack to get him to where he was, and
he was sure if not for that stupid curse those druids had cast all those years
ago, he could have taken in more. The blonde began moaning, and his cock jumped
in anticipation, for tonight. His first British slut.

She pulled
away, and moved to stand by the edge of the street. He looked down at the short
and tight miniskirt she wore before moving forward and placing his hands under
it. His fingers touched the material of her thong and he was about to push it
aside when she squealed and slapped his hand away. He frowned.

Turning
around, she gave him a look of horror, and then moved to the side, away from
the street, and began backing up. Why the act of innocence after sucking his
face off in the pub? Shit, he could have fucked her in the bathroom of the club
from the way they’d been going.

“Look, are
we going to fuck or not?” He decided bluntness was better than getting to this
chick’s place and finding out she only wanted to make him tea. The blonde shook
her head, screamed, and took off running in the opposite direction.

“The fuck?”
He glared after her. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Fucking slut!”

Whatever.
He looked at his watch. It was just after midnight. He had three more hours before
he went back on duty. During that time, he’d find another one, and fuck her at
the pub. Going back to chick’s places was overrated.