Unchained, the Dark Forgotten (2010) (38 page)

“Then why the rabbit theme? The stuffed toy, now this?”

Belenos returned the candy to his pocket. The breeze rippled the sleeve of his Windbreaker. “Because it is a symbol of threat and a reminder of your unknown enemy. If it frightens you a little, that’s useful to me. But let me assure you someone else hired that goblin to release the phouka.”

“Why?”

“To draw you out. You’re the great monster scourge. What better way to lay a trap than by giving you a great monster to chase?”

Ashe digested that a moment. Somewhere in the darkness, one of the hounds gave a deep, bell-like howl.

Belenos spread his hands. “Don’t you see? You’re the famous Ashe Carver, a witch who kills with a stake instead of a spell for the pure, bloody thrill of thrusting through flesh and bone. Your reputation has little monsterlings shaking in their beds. Not only can you take out a clan of vampires single-handed, but everyone believes that you are as magically gifted your sister. She destroyed a demon queen and bore a vampire’s child. Who can allow such power to roam unchecked?”

Obviously, Belenos couldn’t. Not without wanting it for himself.

“But it’s not true. I don’t have any magical ability to speak of.”

“Most people don’t know that. You’ve made no effort to contradict the rumors.” He gave a cold smile. “It is only natural that a freshly released demon would do his best to remove a threat like you from his new territory.”

“Damn.”

The smile fell into a twist of disgust. “Of course, my double-crossing thief was too cowardly to face you himself. I understand he got that lawyer of his to make the arrangements. Bannerman has contacts in the supernatural community who hired both the goblin and the assassin.”

“Huh.” Ashe tightened the grip on the Colt, feeling oddly blank. Her ex-lawyer had paid good money to end her life, and had actually been a bit creative, with the phouka and all. “Well, thanks for the heads-up. The lawyer’s already on my to-do list, but that kicks up the urgency a notch.”

She’d be outraged later, but right now her mind was in overdrive. She wondered whether Holly had been included in the assassin’s contract, and if Bannerman had any other hit men on his speed dial.

Belenos gave something between a nod and a bow. “As I said, it is in my best interests for you to remain alive. At least for the time being.”

Ashe exhaled slowly, forcing herself to be just as calm as the vampire appeared. She didn’t trust him in the role of helpful informant. Logic said he was luring her to drop her guard.

That didn’t mean she wouldn’t pump him for information. “One thing I don’t understand. The assassin chose to die rather than talk. Bannerman’s just not that scary.”

“Have you met Mr. Yarndice in his demonic form?”

Ashe remembered the thing in the bookshop. “Got it.”

Another howl curled upward to the cloud-shrouded moon. A human cry of rage followed. Ashe forced herself to stay focused on the vampire. Forced herself to trust in her partner.

Belenos’s lips moved in a smile that didn’t touch the rest of his face. Utterly mechanical. Utterly horrific. “Now perhaps we can get down to discussing your terms of surrender?”

Rage zinged through her. “The only thing getting surrendered here is the Castle key you’ve got. Then you’re getting on a plane back east with a magically binding oath that you’ll never, ever come back.”

“Is that so?” He took a step forward, which made her take a step back.

“The only reason I haven’t splattered your brains all over these gravestones is because killing a king means war. War between the vampire kingdoms would make bad headlines.”

He shifted his weight, obviously preparing to move closer. “So hostile. So outraged. It thrills me.”

Her stomach ached with tension. He was going to do this the hard way. With her left hand, she pulled a stake out of her thigh pocket. “Let me make this simple. Stay away from my child.”

“I shall if you come to me willingly,” he said in a soft voice. In the flickering light of the torch, he looked like an old master’s painting, his features outlined by stark shadow. “You belong to the dead. I would still have you as my queen. You are”—he paused—“magnificent.”

Ashe felt her eyes widen as she struggled not to snort out a laugh. “Thanks. I’m over the whole broody thing. I’m thinking pastel bike leathers.”

Belenos raised a hand, as if beckoning. “Come now; would you turn your back on your essential nature? You belong with the dark.”

Ashe felt his power crawl over her like some chitinous beast. She thought she’d brushed aside his attempt at controlling her. Now she realized he’d been holding back. Belenos was old. A king of vampires. He might be Fruit Loops crazy, but he was no lightweight. She closed her eyes, because to meet his gaze would be a terrible mistake. Vamps, if they were good enough, could hypnotize as easily as they breathed.

Perhaps that was what he’d been waiting for. She could feel rather than hear him drawing closer. He seemed to absorb the energy from the air around him, the weight of his magic blotting out the life in the night wind. She swayed slightly from keeping her eyes closed, but trusted her senses to tell her exactly how close he was.

Any slayer worth her salt knew how to fight blind.

He was waiting for an answer, so she gave one. “I liked the dark because it hid the stains on my soul. But now I’m coming to accept that people forgive my past. It’s spring. I’m in love, and with a living guy to boot.”

“Ticktock. Reynard still does not have his soul.”

Ashe concentrated on a cramp that was forming from holding the gun so still. Pain would help her keep her focus. “Yeah, the urn’s still missing. Which means you don’t have your supernatural Viagra.”

“Perhaps we don’t need it. I could teach you to love me. You could Choose me.”

“And what drugs are you on?”

He was close now, drawing closer. A predator ready to pounce. “Perhaps I could heal your powers. You could be the witch you once were.”

It was the one thing he should never have said.

Ashe opened her eyes. He was mere feet away, deadly close. She curled her lip. “You’re such a waste of space.”

Ashe pulled the trigger.

Belenos flew back, arms splayed in a graceful arc. He was a large male. The force of the bullet didn’t take him too far, but he toppled with a crash worthy of one of the great cedars sheltering the graves. A circle of dark blood bloomed on his chest, black in the torchlight.

Ashe switched weapons, now grasping the stake in her right hand, the gun in her left. One bullet wouldn’t kill a vampire this old, unless it ripped through his spine. She was counting on it knocking him cold for a good eight hours.

She stood before the fallen vampire, their boots nearly touching. “By the way, I’m not an idiot. My brother-in-law brought along two dozen of his closest friends to mop up your henchmen. The fun and games are over, Red.”

Eight hours should be long enough for the local vamps to take the Eastern vamps to Queen Omara. The monarch of the Northwestern territories could punish Belenos in ways no witch or mortal could dream of, and all within the letter of the vampire laws.

She wished she could watch.

Ashe knelt over Belenos, pressing the point of the stake over his heart. He looked like he was out cold, his hair strewn around him like an exotic mane, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

The bullet hole was a little to the right, just where she’d wanted it. Not quite a killing shot. Ashe could smell raw meat. That would be where the custom silver-coated slug had torn its way out his back, making a big mess along the way. Cruel, but if you tangled with a vampire like Belenos, you had to mean business.

She heard footsteps, and recognized Reynard’s tread. “I’ve got him,” she said. “What about the others?”

“They’ve been dealt with. Do you want me to search for the key?”

“Please.”

Reynard knelt on the other side of the fallen vampire.

“Do you think others vampires will show up, wanting children?” she asked.

“According to Caravelli, Queen Omara will make it clear what a bad idea that would be.”

“Good.”

He began fishing in the vampire’s pants pockets, and pulled out a small gold disk. It bore a six- pointed sun. Their gazes locked, Reynard’s eyes grim, as he gave it to her. “Are you all right?”

“Sure. I just did what any mother in my place would have done.”

Early the next morning, Ashe’s hacker contact finally called back, but only to report that he had no leads on any properties recently purchased by Anthony Yarndice. He’d tried every search known to hackerdom and then some. Bannerman, however, seemed to be constantly buying estates and selling them at a profit. He gave Ashe three addresses the lawyer had purchased in the last six weeks.

Ashe had just gotten out of the shower. Reynard was still in the bathroom, discovering the joys of a massaging showerhead. “Yeah, okay,” she said into the phone, trying to write and adjust the towel wrapped around her hair at the same time. “Thanks, bud.”

She wrote down the last address and hung up.
Bingo!
Ashe did a victory dance, losing the towel in the process.

Reynard appeared in the bedroom doorway and watched the performance with speculative interest.

“What is it?”

“A hit! A palpable hit!”

Reynard raised an eyebrow.

Ashe waved the notepaper with the addresses. “Bannerman bought three properties. One location corresponds with the demon-tracking spell Holly cooked up last night. We have Tony’s new location.”

Reynard’s eyes turned a cold silver. “Where?”

“North Central Shopping Mall. Where you met me at the library.”

Reynard picked up Ashe’s towel and handed it back to her. “Well, my dear, then let’s go
check it out
.”

“Har, har,” she said. “I hate librarian jokes. You know that, right?”

He gave her a look that mixed mischief and affection. “Why else would I make one?”

S
ince Holly was the only one among them who’d actually bagged a demon, she agreed to meet them at the mall as soon as Grandma arrived to watch the kids. While Ashe was making those arrangements, Reynard called the hellhound guard post outside the Castle door and reported that the errant demon had possibly been found. Mac and the other guardsmen should be on standby.

Those errands done,Ashe and Reynard took the Ducati, roaring through the streets with the abandon of teenagers on spring break. She could feel his excitement in the play of his body behind her, in the tingle of his power dancing along her skin. It was a Tuesday morning and traffic was light. They sped past empty playgrounds, silent houses, and schools with throngs of children standing outside the doors. Coffee shops had tables out on the sidewalk, patrons reading the paper and sunning themselves. Except for the task at hand, it was a beautiful morning.

Hellspawn had a way of souring the mood.

Ashe tried to remember everything she knew about demons. There were many different kinds—the term “demon” was about as specific as “bug.” Some were born. Hellhounds were a kind of half demon. Born demons tended to be fairly sane and law-abiding. Others were parasites that infected human hosts. Most of those demons were far more powerful and very bad news. Fortunately, they were rare.

Ashe had killed a few lesser demons, but none bigger than a bread box. The big guys had to be banished, and that took magic powers. The Carver witches had performed a banishing spell exactly twice. It had been the same soul-eater demon both times. Ashe’s ancestor Elaine Carver had died the first time they’d booted it out of Fairview. The second time, Holly had killed the demon and ripped open the doorway to the Castle. Ashe hadn’t been present at that battle, but she’d heard it took a whole lot of magic to get the job done. Holly had pulled earth magic from a nexus of ley lines that converged right where the battle was being fought. Where that had been an ocean of power, the area around the mall was a trickle. Plus, Holly’s powers were just coming back online. They couldn’t count on her providing that boatload of power. The best they could hope for was, like, a kiddie pool’s worth. Or a salad bowl. Or a butter dish. Even if a collector demon wasn’t the badass that the soul eater had been, how the hell were they going to get rid of it?

They pulled up to a stoplight. It was only chance that made her glance down almost at the same time that Reynard tapped her shoulder and pointed at the brand-new BMW 5 Series sedan next to them. Ashe recognized the driver.
Bannerman.
A hot wave of dislike itched its way across her skin. Was he out and about doing business for Tony? Were they picking out curtains for more demon hidey-holes?

At that moment, the lawyer looked up. Even through the tinted glass of the car window, she could see him pale as he figured out who was glaring into his passenger window. His expression said he was terrified of Ashe. Gratifying, but . . . Sure, she’d roughed him up a bit, but not enough to explain the sudden tears in his eyes. That made her plain curious. Had something new happened?

Suddenly the silver BMW swerved out of its lane, moving to the right to slide into the turning lane that led to the highway. An evasive maneuver, if there ever was one. That doubled Ashe’s curiosity. Did Bannerman somehow know that she knew he’d hired the assassin to kill her?

The moment he began to pick up speed, the light changed. Ashe cut across two lanes of traffic before the other drivers could react. Like a shot, she was after the lawyer, Reynard letting out a whoop as the Ducati’s engine opened up with a snarl.

The gorgeous BMW had plenty of horses of its own, and Bannerman had a head start. They were on the four-lane stretch of road that would eventually head to the ferries. Ashe was cautious about weaving around cars, especially with a passenger, but she pulled past the pickup in front of her to get a better visual of Bannerman’s car. The pickup honked, but it was mere background noise. She had the roar of the engine in her head, the vibration between her thighs, and a hot and happy male pressed against her back. She was born for moments like this. Her heart seemed to beat in her throat, straining like a horse fighting its bit.