Chapter 9
The past centuries had taught Dante more than a few lessons.
Never dine upon drunkards. Never turn your back on an angry woman. Never bet on a horse named Lucky. Never wrestle a Chactol demon after a bottle of gin.
And never, never ignore pure instinct.
That last lesson had been the hardest and best learned, which was why he had not directly headed for the coven, although he had managed to catch its scent only a mile from the abandoned factories.
There was something not at all right, he decided as they drew closer. An icy chill prickled over his skin, and the smell of fresh blood filled the air.
A battle had been fought nearby. A battle that had involved powerful magic and undeniable slaughter.
Skirting the trees that hid the coven from view, Dante attempted to determine the danger ahead. He could sense no demons, but he was no longer certain that it was the creatures of the night who posed the greatest threat.
And that, of course, was what troubled him the most.
Devil spit.
He didn’t like the feeling that he was being led by the nose by this unseen enemy. And yet, what choice did he have but to go forward?
He had to find the witches.
Even if it killed him.
A thought that pissed him off royally.
Glancing over his shoulder, he watched as Abby struggled to free her shirt from a clinging thorn bush. A faint smile twitched at his lips. She truly was the most unusual of creatures. As rare and precious as the finest jewel.
As if sensing his gaze, she abruptly jerked her head up to glare at him with that glorious annoyance that she seemed to reserve solely for him.
“Dammit, if we’re going to walk in circles, can we at least do it somewhere that sells mocha ice cream and has air-conditioning?”
“We aren’t walking in circles,” he instinctively denied, only to give a faint grimace. “At least not precisely.”
“I suppose you possess some sort of bat vision?”
He flicked his brow upward. “You do know that bats are blind?”
She gritted her teeth. “Vampire vision, then.”
He gave a shrug. “I can see well enough, not that it truly matters. I’m not looking for the coven.”
“What?” Her eyes glittered with danger in the fading moonlight. “I swear to God, Dante, if you’ve led me through this mutant briar patch for some sort of joke, I’ll st—”
“Stake me, yes, I know,” he drawled. “You might try to be a bit less predictable, lover.”
“You didn’t give me the chance to say where I’d stake you,” she snapped.
A flare of humor raced through him. “True.”
“For God’s sake, if we’re not looking for the coven, then what the hell are we doing out here?”
“I said I’m not looking for the coven and I’m not,” he corrected smoothly. “I’m trying to smell it.”
The prickly anger slowly faded as she realized her hasty mistake.
“Oh. Are you having any luck?”
That icy shiver once again crawled over his skin as Dante turned toward the hidden coven.
“It’s just beyond that line of trees.”
She followed his gaze, her eyes narrowing. “I’ll have to take your word for it since I can’t see jack crap.”
“It’s there.”
“Then why are we waiting?” She sent him a puzzled frown. “I thought you wanted to get this over with?”
“Something is not right.”
He felt her tension at his blunt admission. Obviously whatever her feelings for him, she at least had learned to trust his instincts.
A dark satisfaction lodged itself in his heart but was swallowed swiftly by an inner shudder.
Bloody hell, he was acting as sappy as any mortal. To imagine an immortal vampire scrounging about for pathetic scraps tossed at him by this woman.
Perhaps he should be staked.
“How do you know something’s wrong?” she demanded in a soft whisper.
With an effort, Dante wrenched his thoughts back to the troubles at hand. They were surely enough to deal with.
“I smell blood.”
“Blood?”
“Lots of blood.”
“Oh God.”
“I must find out what happened.”
Without warning, she reached out to grasp his fingers with her own. The warmth of her swiftly traveled through his skin to heat his entire body.
“You think the witches have been attacked?”
There was no point in lying. Not when they would have to approach the coven.
“Yes.”
“I . . .” She paused, tilting up her head to stab him with a narrowed gaze. “You’re going to try and make me stay here, aren’t you?”
“No.” He made the decision swiftly. “Until I know what’s happening, I can’t be certain that there isn’t something still creeping about.”
Her grip abruptly tightened upon his fingers. “You had to say that, didn’t you?”
“I want you to be on your guard.”
She made a sound of disgust at his warning. “I’m wandering through the dark with a vampire, searching for a gaggle of witches who may or may not flay us alive. You think I’m not on my guard?”
He gave a small tug to pull her close, his hand gently cupping her face.
“What I think is that the worst is yet to come,” he murmured.
“Perfect.” Allowing her gaze to meet his own, she momentarily stilled. The stark awareness flared in her eyes then; with a faint shake of her head, she took an awkward step backward. “I suppose we might as well get this over with.”
Swooping down, he pressed a swift kiss to her not-quite-steady lips.
“Stay behind me, and if you sense anything, let me know,” he whispered against her mouth.
She swallowed heavily as he pulled back. “I promise you’ll be the first to hear my scream.”
“Right.”
Keeping her fingers laced tightly in his, Dante moved directly toward the thicket of trees. Behind him Abby stumbled and occasionally cursed at the underbrush, but she managed to keep up with his smooth stride. Within a quarter of an hour, they at last stepped into a clearing.
Directly in the center was a plain three-story brick structure with several wooden outbuildings. There was nothing about it to suggest that it was anything other than a farmhouse. In fact, it was rather depressingly normal.
Precisely what the witches would desire.
Unlike vampires, they had no ability to disguise themselves from curious eyes. They were forced to hide in plain sight.
Abby hesitantly stepped to his side, her brow furrowed in puzzlement.
“You’re certain this is the coven?”
“Yes,” he murmured, keeping to the shadows as he cautiously led her closer to the structure.
“It seems—”
“Dead?” he finished, halting as they came to a large side window.
“Yeah, that about sums it up,” she agreed in shaky tones.
A swift glance through the tinted panes also summed it up. The carnage was impressive, worthy of the darkest soul, but Dante did not allow his gaze to linger. No one within had been left to tell the tale.
Pulling back, he allowed his gaze to slide over the remaining buildings.
“Are you going inside?” Abby demanded from behind.
“No. I cannot enter.”
“Damn.”
He turned to offer her a wry smile. “Actually, it’s a good thing.”
“Why?”
“It means that at least some of the witches survived the attack,” he explained. “Otherwise the barrier would be broken.”
“What?”
His undead heart twitched at the sight of her features that were unbearably fragile.
“It doesn’t matter. They must have fled. I’ll see if I can pick up their trail.”
Her mouth dropped open in dismay. “More walking?”
Dante considered the clearing. For the moment they were alone.
“You can wait here for me. I won’t go far.”
She bit her lip, the terror she was struggling to keep at bay almost visible as she considered the darkness shrouded about her.
“Your definition of far is considerably different than mine,” she muttered.
He placed his fingers beneath her chin to tilt her head upward. He waited until she met his searching gaze and then offered her a comforting smile.
“You have only to call and I will come running.”
“You promise?”
“Upon my quiche-hating heart,” he said softly.
Her lips twitched, although her eyes remained dark with unease. “That’ll do.”
Framing her face in his hands, Dante crushed his lips to her forehead before pulling back to regard her with a somber expression.
“Abby.”
“What?”
“I would suggest you stay away from the windows. It’s bad in there. Really bad.”
His warning delivered, Dante turned to make his way toward the outbuildings. If some of the witches had fled, he should be able to follow their scent. He supposed it was too much to hope that they might be hidden in the nearby trees.
In over three centuries, they had never made anything easy.
Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.
Dante’s words echoed through Abby’s mind.
She knew he was right. She didn’t want to see whatever was inside. God knew she had seen enough in the past hours to last her a couple of lifetimes. Not the least of which was a walking corpse who refused to stay in his grave.
But the very fact that she shouldn’t look naturally ensured that her feet were moving forward and she was pressing her face to the glass.
For a moment her eyes could make out nothing in the gloom, and a deep sense of relief shuddered through her. Then, even as she prepared to pull away, her gaze shifted toward a nearby wall and she was reeling backward in horror.
So much blood . . .
It had been splattered everywhere.
And . . . stuff she didn’t even want to consider.
Bending over, she gagged at the rising nausea.
“You had to look, didn’t you?” a dark voice drawled even as a strong arm encircled her shoulders and pulled her close.
“You shouldn’t have told me not to.”
He pressed her head into his shoulder. “Somehow I knew it would end up being my fault.”
Comforted more than a rational woman should be by a vampire’s touch, Abby slowly forced herself to pull away.
“Did you find the trail?”
Even in the darkness, she could see his grimace.
“It led as far as the nearest outbuilding, which happened to be a garage.”
Her eyes lifted to the heavens. “Don’t tell me. They took off in the witchmobile?”
“Something like that.”
Abby sucked in a deep breath. She knew she should be disappointed.
Without the witches, her life remained in danger. All sorts of creepy, icky, semi-dead things would continue to hunt her. And the Phoenix that had taken up residence within her body would continue to refurbish her like she was a cheap dorm room.
But the disappointment that was lodged in her heart felt remarkably like relief.
“So, what now?” she demanded in an effort to sound resigned rather than certifiable.
Lifting his head, Dante sniffed the air. “Dawn will be approaching soon. I must find some place to wait out the day.”
“Oh. We could return to the factories.”
“I think there might be something closer. Can you walk?”
Her feet had gone beyond pain to a petulant numbness. “I’ll make it.”
A slow, enigmatic smile curved his lips. “You never fail to amaze me, lover.”
Startled by the low words, Abby had no time to demand what he meant before he had a hold of her hand and was tugging her across the clearing to the woods on the other side.
In silence—well, Dante in silence and her with snapping twigs, squishing mud, muttered oaths, and a whimper of pain when she stubbed her toe on a fallen log—they made their way through the darkness. Abby swiftly lost track of time as she concentrated simply on keeping her feet moving forward, but eventually Dante slowed his swift pace.
“Here we are,” he murmured, his hand reaching out to brush aside a heavy curtain of ivy that was growing upon the side of a low hill. “Not quite fivestar material, but it’s dark.”
“And damp,” Abby muttered as she bent low to follow Dante into the narrow tunnel that led to a small circular opening.
Seating himself on the sandy ground, he gave a tug on her hand, pulling her next to his hard length.
“Look at it this way, at least it’s not a crypt,” he pointed out in dry tones.
Although not overly impressed with the low ceiling and moss-covered walls, she did have to concede that it was a relief not to have a corpse lying about.
“Meaning I should be grateful for small favors?”
“Well, you also have the pleasure of my company. That should make even a damp cave seem like paradise.”
“God, you really need to get over yourself, Dante,” she muttered, pulling her knees close to her chest and wrapping her arms about them.
Clearly feeling the faint shiver that raced through Abby, Dante shifted to study her pale face.
“Are you cold?”
“A little.”
“Here.” Wrapping his arm about her shoulder, he tugged her close to his side, his cheek resting on top of her head. “It should warm up as the sun rises.”
There was no warmth in his body, but that didn’t stop a sudden heat from flaring through her blood. Damn, it had been so long since she had been held in a man’s arms, alive or dead. So long since she had felt that heady sense of sated passion.
And she couldn’t deny that she had lusted after Dante for months. The dull hunger that plagued her seemed to have no sense of timing, damn it all.
“You should try to sleep,” Dante broke the silence, his fingers aimlessly toying with a strand of her hair. “I’ll keep watch.”
She sternly turned her thoughts to more pressing troubles. Having the hots for this vampire surely came second place to imminent peril.
“I’m too on edge to sleep.”
“I can’t imagine why,” he said dryly.
“Shall I make you a list?”
“No need.”
She heaved a faint sigh. “We are truly screwed, aren’t we?”
There was a momentary pause, as if he were carefully considering his words.
“I’m not sure I would put it quite in those words, but the attack on the witches has made our task more difficult.”
“Who would do such a thing?”
“That is the question.” His tone held a lethal edge, revealing he was not nearly so composed as he would have her believe. “A demon could not have passed through the barrier, and yet a human could never have caused such destruction.”
She shuddered in horror. “God no, it was gruesome.”
“Unless . . .”
“Unless what?”
“A human who worshipped the Prince might have been capable of summoning a great deal of power.”
Abby didn’t bother to hide her shock. She had never even considered the idea that it could be anything but a monster that could attack with such savagery.
“A human?”
He stiffened at her obvious surprise. “You believe only demons capable of evil?”
The rasp in his voice brought her gaze to his tight expression.
“No,” she said softly. “I am well acquainted with the evil people are capable of.”
He grimaced ruefully. “I’m sorry. I don’t like mysteries.”
“I’ve discovered I don’t much care for them myself,” she muttered, reluctantly forcing herself to consider the horrors that had been dogging them for the past days. “Do you think the same person who attacked the witches killed Selena?”
“I just don’t know.”
Abby gave a humorless chuckle. “Well, we’ve nicely determined that we’re not Nancy Drew and Hercule Poirot.”
“No.” She felt him stroke his cheek over her hair, his lips briefly pressing against her temple. “I’m not much of a champion, am I, my sweet?”
She tilted back her head to glare at his ridiculous words. “Don’t say that. If it wasn’t for you, I would be dead by now.”
His lips twisted at her fierce defense. “Instead you’re hiding in a cave, no closer to being rid of the Phoenix than when you started.”
He shifted, his movement tugging her even more firmly against his hard body. Her heart skipped, kicked, and lodged somewhere near her throat.
Don’t think about it, Abby, she sternly told herself. Don’t think about those slender, skillful fingers skimming over your bare skin. Or those lips nuzzling at sensitive places. Or your legs wrapped about his waist as he . . .
Oh hell.
She melted against his hardness, her eyes darkening with the awareness that she was tired of battling.
“I thought you promised that being with you would make this cave a paradise?”
Quite intelligent, despite being male, Dante instantly sensed the change in the atmosphere. The silver eyes darkened to smoke as he allowed his gaze to slowly wander over her face.
“Abby?” he whispered.
Not giving herself time to consider her rash behavior, Abby reached up to thrust her hands into his glorious hair. Her heart was already racing and her breath impossible to capture.
“I don’t want to think about demons or witches or all the other horrid creatures that are trying to kill me.”
His arms wrapped about her, tugging her easily to straddle his legs so they were face-to-face.
“What do you want?” he rasped, his fingers trailing up the length of her spine.
“You.” She kissed him with all the yearning that was burning within her. “I want you.”