The Vampire's Protector (15 page)

But to do that while fleeing possible captivity? And who could know what Himself had planned for him?

“A warlock,” Summer said as she joined him on the couch.

“A warlock can help us?”

“Maybe. Verity suggested we visit Ian Grim. He owes her a favor. And while he travels the world a lot, she thinks he's actually in town. I left a message for him with his partner, Dasha. Cross your fingers.”

He studied her crossed fingers and then made the gesture himself. “Is that not a devil's sign?”

“No, it's a hope for good luck.”

“Hmm. I suppose I should not care if it is also the devil's sign, eh?”

“It's not, Nicolo.” But he didn't miss the worried tone of her voice.

“If you say so. I've been thinking...” He leaned back, setting the violin aside. “What if I appeal to the Big Guy? Call him out and say ‘here I am. Let's do this. For once and for all.'”

Summer gaped.

“It might afford me a better chance than a dungeon.”

“No. I'm going to keep you out of the dungeon. Or maybe the warlock can. Don't you dare call on You Know Who. He'll have you then, Nicolo. You know that.”

He nodded. “Yes. Or who knows? Perhaps I will be so clever as to change his mind about me. He wanted my soul back in the nineteenth century. But now? If I am without a soul what value do I present? Surely, he has set his sights on more substantial, and perhaps even
modern
prey.”

“Maybe. How many children does the man have?”

Nicolo blew out a breath. “I have brothers and sisters? Don't make me think too hard on that one, Summer. It was difficult enough accepting who my father was so long ago.”

“Sorry. It is possible, though.”

“Sure. But let's focus on what we've to do. How much time do we have?”

“Kiss me.”

“What?”

“I know that will keep your mind off things.”

“Yes, but I just said we need to keep our mind
on
things.”

She delivered the proposed kiss, running her hands up his chest and pushing her fingers into his hair. She straddled him, and he pulled her in close as he surrendered to the kiss. Keeping his mind off things? It did. And it kept his hands on better things. Like the curve of her bottom as he cupped his fingers about it. And the scent of her skin, and sighs that whispered into his mouth.

There was something about Summer that he'd never known before with a woman. Not that she was a vampire and the piercing of his skin with her fangs was the most incredible experience. Nor that she was rough and unfeminine. She accepted him, and not because he was a star on stage. Did she feel responsible for him? Certainly. And yet, she allowed him his own way. Wanted to help him survive to start a new life.

And he wanted her in that life.

Summer's phone rang. She answered and said to Nicolo, “It's Ian Grim, the warlock.” She pushed a button on the witchbox, and Nicolo was able to hear what the man said.

“Verity Van Velde told me you owe her a favor and she'd transferred that favor to me,” Summer said, holding the witchbox between the two of them. “I need to steal a violin from the Council's Archives.”

Grim whistled. “The Archives are virtually impenetrable.”

“Virtually, but not completely.”

“What's up with the violin?”

“It's the black violin that Himself used to tempt Nicolo Paganini with untold power.” They exchanged glances. Just calling it as it was.

“Interesting. Tell me more.”

“Well, Paganini is sitting beside me right now—I have you on speaker—and we think if we can destroy the violin, the temptation will pass, making him a free man. And that will keep him free from imprisonment, as well. I'm a Retriever. My job is to bring Paganini in because he's a suspected danger to society.”

“Is he?”

“He could be if he plays the violin.”

“So the man is alive? Fascinating. And I imagine that black violin is calling to him?”

“You got it. Can you help us?”

“Perhaps. There's always a universal price, you are aware?”

“Verity said you owed her a favor.”

“Oh indeed. But the price for using malefic magic to destroy something created by the Dark Lord could be very grave.”

Summer glanced to Nicolo. “Let's give it a go,” she said.

Grim gave her his address, and they agreed to meet immediately.

* * *

Nicolo accompanied Summer to the warlock's house because he needed to take charge. To protect her should the warlock try anything untoward.

And he wanted to know exactly what the warlock's plans were for the violin. Destroy it? He could not fathom such destruction. Nor could the subtle whisper that never seemed to leave his ear. It wasn't an audible sound, more like a subconscious entity that would poke him if he considered not playing the violin.

He knew it was Himself. Could that monster know he was alive and walking about Paris? He had to. But it did surprise Nicolo that he'd not yet paid him a visit. The devil generally appeared to a person in the guise of their greatest temptation. Or so Nicolo had learned. He had seen Himself in the form of an elder gentleman (not a temptation) and in his true form with horns and black leathery flesh. Perhaps being the son he was not akin to the creature's display of such physical temptations?

Then why must he fight the compulsion to play the violin so desperately? Why could he not be immune to that?

“What are you thinking about?” Summer asked. They'd taken the underground Metro (fabulous conveyance) and now walked in a quiet neighborhood populated with houses in the Victorian style (or so Summer had explained to him). The style of Victoriana had followed after Nicolo's death. “Penny for your thoughts.”

“Is that all they are worth?”

“It's just a saying. I don't have a penny. Just credit.”

“I marvel over that plastic card of yours. If I began playing the circuit and earning a living could I get myself one of those cards?”

“I'll help you fill out the application.”

“Excellent.” He patted his back trouser pocket where he'd tucked the witchbox. So quickly he was adapting to the twenty-first century! “As for my thoughts, I was wondering why the Big Guy had not yet paid me a visit. Doesn't it seem inevitable?”

“It does. Maybe he's biding his time. Which gives us time to destroy the violin. You cool with that?”

“Uh, sure.”

No. But no sense in starting an argument. He was going to meet a warlock. And on the scale of the few paranormals he'd met—which wasn't very many—meeting a warlock gave him the nerves. Why, was beyond him. Hell, he was the devil's son. Nothing should scare him.

Summer clasped his hand and she squeezed, flashing her pale blue irises at him. Her smile coaxed him out of the worrying thoughts and into her world. A sunny, happy world that ever boggled, for she was the classic creature of the night.

Indeed, vampires had changed over the decades.

She turned into a yard and pushed open a wrought iron gate. The sidewalk was narrow, and Nicolo walked on the grass beside her. The dark gray house was trimmed in black. A pepperbox turret rose on the upper right side, and he could see inside the tower's curved windows clung climbing green vines. The one spot of color was the red glass doorknob on the front door.

Summer clanked the gargoyle door knocker. “Dreary, eh?”

“I'd say so. You've never met this warlock?”

“No, but I'm not afraid of him. Neither should you be.”

“I'm not. Did you think I was? Please.” He crossed his arms and assumed a proud stance. But there was no denying his stomach did a flip-flop.

The door opened to a short man sporting tousled blond hair and black spectacles perched at the end of his nose. “Summer Santiago? And, I presume the maestro Nicolo Paganini?”

They nodded.

“Excellent! Come in. I am most pleased to make your acquaintance, Monsieur Paganini. My partner and I listen to your music all the time.”

Heartened by the warm welcome, Nicolo stepped behind Summer, but when his foot touched the threshold his body was forcefully thrust backward. He landed on the narrow sidewalk, arms and legs splayed.

The warlock popped his head out the doorway. “Interesting. Knowing you'd arrive soon I'd let down all my wards, save for one.”

“Which one was that?” Nicolo said as he stood and brushed off his pants legs.

“The one against the devil Himself.”

Chapter 18

S
ummer's shoulders tightened at the announcement that the ward against Himself was what had repulsed Nicolo from entering Ian Grim's home. Then again, she knew he was related to the guy, so it made sense.

But really? He was just like the devil Himself? Did he have powers he wasn't aware of? Had he been like this always? Even in his former life? He had to have been. Yet Verity hadn't sensed what he was, had been sure he wasn't demon. And Summer had yet to sneeze because of him. Maybe the wards were reading some kind of genetic remnants in Nicolo? Or perhaps dormant genes waiting for the brimstone bargain to be enacted?

The musician stepped up to the stoop and waited with entreating eyes.

Ian Grim, arms crossed and a finger to his lips in thought, didn't say anything as Summer stepped around him and joined Nicolo's side.

Finally Grim asked, “You think destroying the violin will do what, exactly?”

“I think it will remove the curse of his legacy,” Summer offered. “Himself offered the violin. If he plays it, he's supposed to receive all that his legacy will offer. Unless he's already gotten some of it.”

“You keep saying legacy,” Grim said. “Are you telling me this guy is
related
to the Big Guy?”

Nicolo answered more proudly than Summer thought he should, “He's my father.”

Grim cringed. “You didn't tell me that, Miss Santiago. It's a good thing I did have that ward activated. I know I owe Verity a favor, but dabbling with the diabolic is asking a lot of me.”

“What if it means preventing unleashing something evil upon the world?”

Nicolo cleared his throat.

She squeezed his hand. “Sorry.”

“I am not evil.”

“Apparently,” Grim said, “not yet.” He narrowed his eyes on Nicolo. “Shouldn't he be under a guarded watch?”

Summer's shoulders deflated. “I'm trying to prevent that by destroying the violin. Look, can you help us or not? Because if your magic isn't powerful enough—”

“Fine,” Grim said. “I've never been one to fear the diabolic.” He glanced hard at Nicolo. “Or the soulless.” He stepped back and muttered some Latin words, sweeping both hands before him to take in the doorframe. A gleam of emerald framed the door, then blinked out. “Come in. Let's see what we can do.”

* * *

The warlock's home offered exactly the atmosphere Nicolo would expect from one who had been banished by his own race of witches for using magic most foul. Dark woods and gray-and-black wallpapers in flocked damask made it difficult to navigate through the dimly lit home. A stuffed octopus reached out a tentacle from the foyer ceiling. A collection of avian bones sat sorted on a stone kitchen counter. An overall feeling that some
thing
was watching him from the shadows kept Nicolo's heart pounding.

Summer and Ian strode ahead into a sitting room where the horn of some long-dead creature marked the mantel. Nicolo walked slowly. They kept mentioning diabolic magic. And that he was like Himself.

He was not. And never would be. He couldn't be.

Could he?

“No,” he muttered and turned to find something staring at him. He gasped, drawing in a choking breath.

Only when he realized it was not a creature from the shadows did he drop his shoulders. Petite and dark, the woman wore a long gray dress that reminded him of something from his time, with the cinched waist and proper lace about the wrists. He startled at the sight of the red ribbon around her neck, for it was a shock of color in an otherwise dismal setting.

“I am Nicolo Paganini,” he said, offering his hand for her to shake.

The dark-haired beauty fluttered her lashes, and as she shook his hand he immediately knew what had happened to her. Why she wore the ribbon. Always. How terrible. Yet how fascinating.

She offered a sweet “I know who you are, Monsieur Paganini. I am Dasha. I love your music. We listen to it often. Are you like me now?”

“Back from the dead?” he said with knowing. “Yes, but my death was natural. Unlike...” He rubbed his forefinger across his neck so he wouldn't have to say what he knew about her.

She touched the red ribbon. “Ian saved me. Gives me life.”

What Nicolo had read about the woman's life during that handshake was that she had been beheaded during the French Revolution, shortly after he'd been born. Yet a dark menace had sown her decapitated head onto a new body. She now survived thanks to life-giving blood. Though he couldn't be clear on how she received that blood.

He didn't want to know. Some mysteries were best left unexplained.

“My partner is a kind man,” Dasha said. “You mustn't think because he is warlock that he is terrible. He did it for me. For love.”

“I will try not to make judgments,” he said honestly. “I suspect there are far worse things to be in this world.”

Like the devil's son.

“Will you have tea?” she asked.

“I'd be delighted.”

* * *

Summer checked that the spell paper she'd shoved in her back pocket was still there. Ian Grim had copied out a spell using blood ink and handcrafted paper. He'd lit it aflame and then doused it in the tears of a newborn. Dramatics. But probably not. Witchcraft disturbed her. Best to simply trust it would work and leave the worry over the process to others.

Merely tear it in two and it would activate, Grim had explained. Seemed too easy. But right now she'd take easy.

It was a little before sunset. She'd suggested Nicolo stay at her home while she was out and had made him swear he would not follow her again. He'd taken it as an admonishment, but had picked up the electric violin and began to play as she'd backed out in the Audi and the garage door had closed.

Once in the Archives, she took an elevator ride down two stories and passed the guard with a nod. He was werewolf, she sensed. Some wolves gave off a wolfie scent of wild.

She smelled mint tea and followed that into the dimly lit Archives office, which was so vast it stretched farther than she could see left and right and was cluttered with bookcases and storage cabinets fashioned from varnished old woods. A scatter of massive wood desks fronted the room, and behind one of them, sitting beside a flickering oil lamp, sat Certainly Jones, his feet up on the desk, eyes closed and head tilted against the seat.

“Surprised to find you here, Summer,” he said without opening his eyes. “Tea?”

What was it with witches and tea?

“Uh, sure.” Best to humor him. Would he suspect she was about to unleash a spell? “I wanted to check in with you to make sure the violin had been secured. We've been having such a time keeping that darned thing secure.”

“You could have called.”

Yep. And she was so not good at the stealth around someone she knew. Out on a retrieval? No problem. But she knew that CJ would probably be suspicious of her visit.

“I was in the area and thought I'd stop in.” She shoved her hands in her front pockets. “I've always wanted to see inside the Archives. Can I take a look at it? I do have a stake in this one, CJ. Let me make sure it's safe.”

He pulled his feet off the desk and set down the teacup with a clink of cup to saucer. The hand that was heavily tattooed pointed toward her hip. “Is that when you're going to use that spell you've got tucked in your pocket?”

“My—what?”

“Summer. I can smell the malefic magic. You've been consorting with Ian Grim, I suspect. He's the only warlock in town at the moment. We do keep tabs, you know.”

No, she had not known that. Now what to do? She'd thought this would be easy. Get a look at the violin. Tear the spell in two. Voilà!

CJ got up and walked around the desk to stand before her. He was taller by a head and imposing. Like a goth king nightmare. But she knew he was kind. Mostly.

In a panic, she gripped his shirt. “You've got to help me. I'm supposed to hand over Nicolo Paganini to Ethan Pierce in the morning. You know they'll lock him away and toss the key. He doesn't deserve that. He's only been alive three days. He's not evil. I know him! Trust me, CJ.”

He carefully removed her grip from his shirt and held out his hand, palm up. “Give me the spell.”

She shook her head. “I brought him into the world. It's now my duty to protect him.”

“Seriously? Summer, the man is the devil's son.”

“How do you know that? I just found out— Were you talking to Verity?”

“She did give me a heads-up on the situation. Did you neglect to alert the director of this most important paternal link?”

She sighed and looked aside.

“I thought so. I shouldn't discount the disruption that a fierce attraction can produce, but I would expect a Retriever to keep her job separate from her personal life.”

She'd expect as much, too. But the man was soulless. No one could have any idea what that meant to her.

“He may appear harmless to you now,” CJ said, “but once he plays the violin—”

“Exactly. This spell Grim gave me will destroy the violin. Why does the Archives need to keep it, anyway? Why not destroy the thing that is capable of bringing a monster to life? Acquisitions would rather imprison a man than destroy the violin. That makes little sense.”

“I am not a part of Acquisitions. I merely receive the items you Retrievers bring in and do not question.”

“Yes, you receive the items we retrieve. So you
are
a part of this, like it or not.”

“Summer, give me the spell.”

“Don't do that, Summer.”

CJ looked over Summer's shoulder to where Nicolo stood in the doorway. “How did you get in here? I can feel the diabolic magic waving off you.”

Really? He had followed again? What did she have to do to make him stay put?

“I've no magic,” Nicolo said, holding his palms splayed as he entered the room to stand beside Summer. “I simply walked in. And I don't appreciate you speaking to Summer in that tone. You have something that belongs to me, dark witch. The black violin. And I will thank you to return it.”

CJ moved his fingers, and Summer knew he was accessing his magic. She had no defense against magic, so she could but close her eyes and pray this wasn't going to hurt.

With a gesture from CJ, Nicolo was flung backward to land against the stone wall. Nicolo, in turn, thrust out his hand defensively—and some force lashed CJ across the chest and pushed him backward to land across the desk on his back.

Summer twisted a look toward Nicolo. The man looked at his hand and shrugged. “It just happened.”

“Don't do that here,” she warned. “Seriously? You followed me here? This place wants to take you into custody. And you just gave them good reason to do so. We need to get out of here.”

“I couldn't stand to the side and let you do this alone. I feared you might get hurt.”

“Admit it, Nicolo. You don't care about me. You wanted the violin.”

He was about to answer when another lash of magic from CJ forced him back against the wall.

“CJ, please,” Summer pleaded. “I'll give you the spell!”

“Hand it over—” the dark witch held out his hand, maintaining the hold on Nicolo with his other hand “—and I'll let you both walk out of here. But I won't be responsible for what Acquisitions will do to you, Summer Santiago. You know this is out of line.”

“That's fine,” she said, hoping to appease him so he would release Nicolo. “I have to face that one on my own.”

She shoved a hand in her back pocket and tugged out the slip of paper. But the end of it got caught on the seam, and she heard paper tear. Before she could fathom what was happening, she pulled up her hand. Only half the spell paper was pressed between her fingers. “Oops.”

“Ah shit. Was that a destruction spell?”

She nodded and added a guilty swallow.

CJ dashed around her and down the hallway. Nicolo stepped away from the wall and grabbed her by the shoulders. “We must follow him!”

And so they did. Taking a turn in the passageway that had stopped being walled in brick and now was but bare limestone, Summer shivered as the chill air grew noticeable.

“CJ, I didn't mean to do that!” she called after him.

He swerved right ahead at a T-turn. She took the turn and Nicolo followed as they ran down five stairs, where CJ punched in a code on a digital lock.

“I don't even know what to do with you,” he muttered. “Summer, your family and mine have been friends for years.”

“I'm sorry, CJ. I wanted to help Nicolo. He's not deserving of imprisonment.”

“I understand that. You are infatuated.”

“Ahem,” Nicolo said.

“She is,” CJ reiterated. “And at the risk of her job. Do you really care about her?” he asked Nicolo.

“I do.”

“Hmph.”

“I know him better than you or Ethan Pierce do. He's worth giving a chance to.”

“Well, if the violin is gone then I guess he gets that chance, eh?”

“If Acquisitions doesn't lock him up. Will you let him leave here with me?”

The door clicked, and CJ pulled back the thick vault door and eyed Nicolo carefully. “I don't know yet.”

The threesome entered the vault, which was lit all around with small blue LEDs and gave enough light to reveal the room was vast. The walls looked like steel as Summer took everything in. The floor was some kind of perforated metal, as was the ceiling. A weird juxtaposition of high tech amongst the ancient stacks and libraries that made up of the rest of the Archives.

“Remarkable,” Nicolo said. “I have never seen the like.”

“Where did you put it?” Summer asked the witch.

He didn't answer, only walked quickly down an aisle of items set upon steel blocks about waist high. Contained under glass, each had a digital keypad at the fore of the block.