A Wicked Night (Creatures of Darkness 2): A Coraline Conwell Novel (9 page)

Of course, as Mason’s sire, Trent could have ordered him to keep her out of the loop and he would have to obey.

She consoled herself by believing that was the case. VEA business was just that: VEA business. They wouldn’t want a human, or rather, a witch, privy to what was happening in the vampire community.

But what there was more to it than that?

As if sensing her insecurity, Knox was always there to exacerbate it.

“Trent trusts you as much as I do,” he said, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed. “Less even, I expect. I’ve no doubt he’ll find a way to free us from you long before your wretched bond is reinforced.”

She slammed shut the heavy book and glared up at him. “Aw. Another vampire doesn’t like me? Color me stunned. However will I recover?” Had he known she’d been thinking about Trent?

“He’s not just any vampire. He’s a sire of hundreds. And you just so happen to have targeted his two favorites. There’s no reason for him to worry for me, but eventually he’ll grow tired of your influence over his golden-boy Mace.”

“I don’t have an influence over anyone. Mace makes his own decisions.”

“How would you respond, I wonder, if he decided to leave you?”

Something violent twisted in her chest, so suddenly she wasn’t able to put her wall up in time to block it from Knox.

He speared her with a knowing look. “What’s that I sense? Something witchy and, dare I say, possessive? Curious.”

“All you sense is how much I care for Mace. I only want what’s best for him.”

Knox narrowed his eyes. “You know, you’d make for a great politician. Lies come out of you like water from a pipeline.”

Tired of all his subtle and not-so-subtle accusations, Cora let out a frustrated grumble. “This conversation is boring me. We both know why you’re here, and it’s not to debate my intentions for the hundredth time. Let’s just get this over with.” She stood, preparing for his commands.

He studied her for a moment, then glanced at the book on the reading desk to his left. Pride and Prejudice, the book she’d been reading upon their first unfavorable meeting, the first time he’d fanged her. The same book he’d presented to her later, after having forcibly taking her neck.

“You haven’t touched this. It was a gift, a peace offering.”

The snort that rushed out of her couldn’t have spoken her opinion better than if she’d shouted “bullshit.”

She crossed her arms. “Not interested, thanks.”

She loved to read, and devoured all the classic books she could get her hands on. They were so hard to find these days. That one in particular appeared to be a first edition, or very close to one, and it pained her not to explore its pages, but she hadn’t moved it from that spot for a very specific reason. Because if she accepted it, in a way, it would be as if she were accepting him.

She jerked her chin toward the well-used book. “Why don’t
you
take it? You could benefit from a little cultural influence. Maybe it will improve that personality of yours.”

“Not my style,
cher
. I don’t do that romantic shit.”

“What a shocker.”

His lips twitched. “Besides, I never cared for the heroine in that story. She’s too self-important. But it was fun to watch her squirm when she realized the massive mistake she’d made by turning down Mr. Darcy. I merely figured you could learn from the moral of the story.”

She choked on a laugh. “Sounds like you’re pretty familiar with the characters for someone who
doesn’t do that romance shit
.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m ignorant of the classics. I’ve spent many more years on this planet than you have. Remember that.”

“Spare me your wisdom, gramps.”

To her surprise, his amusement grew in the form of a wry smile. Jubilant lines creased the corners of his eyes. It made him look younger and deceitfully congenial. How many humans had fallen prey to that look? Lured in? Disarmed? Countless, no doubt. He was like a beautiful spider, always poised to strike.

She swallowed, needing to smack that expression from his face.

“Did you kill Ms. Windshaw?” She blurted.

His grin slipped into a guarded frown. “I’d expect you to be smart enough to realize I’d never admit to such a thing, even if I did do it. But what if I had? What would you do? What
could
you do?”

“I’d make you pay.” Her serious timbre brokered no dispute, even though she wasn’t exactly confident how she’d follow through. Still, she set her jaw.

He smirked. “You’re welcome to try.”

Then he turned and left her alone.

Vein intact.

——

Mace clasped his hands over his head and stretched his spine side to side. Then he shut down his computer and pushed away from the desk.

He’d been digging into the pasts of several new suspects over the last few weeks. Trent was hopeful they were making progress figuring out who had abducted Bray, but Mace had his doubts. Not one suspect stood out from the rest. He couldn’t even decipher how they’d wound up on Trent’s radar.

“Our girl grows bolder by the day,” Knox’s voice shot from behind.

Mace turned to see him standing in the doorway. Luckily Mace had taken care to claim a new office where the lock on the door could only be engaged from the inside.

“
My
girl,” he corrected harshly. “And I told you she’s strong.”

“That you did, but I think her sudden courage is the result of something
other
than a newfound self-confidence.”

Mace stifled a cringe and adopted a bland tone. “What makes you think that?”

“Don’t treat me like I’m an idiot,” Knox said. Through grinded teeth he added, “She’s a Conwell, just like Sadira. We both know what that means.”

Mace replied, “We can’t be sure that she’s just like Sadira.”

“We can’t be sure she’s not till it’s too late.” Knox stuffed his hands into the pocket of his jeans and leaned against the doorframe. “She’s changing. I know you’ve seen it. Before, when she would meet my gaze, pure human fear stared back at me. It was like she was forcing herself not to look away with everything in her. Now? I don’t know. A fire’s kindling in her, and not in a good way.”

Mace shrugged. Cora’s resilience gave him pride and made her even more attractive to him. But at the same time, fragments of a theory formed every time he caught something untoward flourish behind her beautiful eyes. Eyes that were guileless but for that growing darkness.

Knox practically sniffed out his inner turmoil. “It doesn’t worry you? What she is? How quickly she’s adjusting? And now you want to allow her to master witchcraft? She bonded us when she was but a meek human girl. What do you think a savvy witch could accomplish? Especially one with her lineage.”

“You’re anticipating a problem where there is none. Just keep to the plan, make sure you don’t reinforce the bond with your blood, and soon both she and I can be rid of you.”

“I don’t see this playing out the way you envision. There’s nothing but trouble in our future and it goes by the name Coraline Conwell.”

Cora stretched out in the grass near the boundary line that marked the protective spell surrounding the cottage. Outside that unmistakable demarcation, the forest appeared to be hundreds of years older than within, with fat knotted trees and acres of ivy.

Meeka, in her kitten form, pounced for a butterfly. The winged creature escaped into the sky, and green eyes beseeched Cora as if she should jump up and assist in the chase.

“Sorry, girl, I don’t have a hankering for bug guts at the moment.” Cora glanced back at the book in her lap. This evening, she’d opted for a fictional escape instead of studying witchcraft. The bookshelf in the living room had a varied selection, and she’d selected something by an author she’d never heard of before. It was all about dragons that were able to take human form. And though silly—Cora generally preferred something a little more realistic—she was rather enjoying it, and found herself thinking,
well, vampires exist, so do witches, why not dragons?

When the butterfly disappeared into the sky, the cat let out an impatient meow, but was easily distracted by a dragonfly that zoomed past, and off she went.

Growing a little drowsy, Cora set the book aside and settled into the soft turf. Above her, a puffy splatter of white crawled over a solid blue sky, and though the sun was uninhibited, the edge of winter seasoned the air. She wondered if they were far enough north for snow to blanket the area.

She let out a lazy sigh, and then mused over the fact that she was actually content. Even with Knox’s inconvenient feedings, and the unknown threat looming over her, in this moment, she was at ease.

She couldn’t recall the last time she’d felt such peace. Not when she was younger, struggling to survive one day to the next, attempting to find a safe haven among the many street gangs. Not even with Winston, before she knew of his treachery. She definitely never imagined she could relax in the company of two vampires, one of them lacking common civility.

She closed her eyes.

Mace was changing her opinion of vampire kind. Through most of her life, she had seen them all as vicious and brutal beasts—thanks mostly impart to Edgar, the nightmare of her childhood, and reinforced by several others with whom she’d had the misfortune of crossing paths—but Mace transcended the stereotypes of his brethren. He was honorable, caring, protective, and so much more that she didn’t even know to expect in another individual.

If only he would be more open with her.

A phantom of pain permeated over her neck and upper chest. She shot upright with a gasp. She must have dozed off for a moment, because darkness now covered the sky, and the small creatures of the night were at the crescendo of their ancient symphony.

It took her a moment to realize the pain that woke her was not her own.

She was gleaning it through the bond. Was something wrong with Mace? Was he fighting with Knox again?

“Meeka?” she called anxiously through the darkness.

Where had that cat gone?

Cora pushed to a stand and glanced around, suddenly aware of every shadow.

Leaves rustled to her right.

Then the dim moonlight revealed Meeka’s massive head poking out from under a bush. She had already changed to her beastly form.

Knowing Meeka would follow, Cora bound toward the house. She threw the door open and propelled herself inside only to come to a horrified halt.

In the middle of the room, Knox hunched over Mace who was kneeling. Though the couch blocked half his body, she could see pain contorting his features, and his hand was covering his neck.

Knox was trying to kill Mace!

A red-hued rage coated her vision. She pointed at Knox, ordering Meeka to attack.

Meeka jumped to obey, vaulting over the couch. Knox had time to glance up, before powerful paws hammered him to the ground.

He grunted out a curse. “Get this damn thing off me!”

Cora rushed to Mace, screeching at Knox, “I should have her tear out your throat!”

Knox’s mouth dropped open, as though he were utterly surprised by her reaction.

“It wasn’t him,” Mace choked out.

She glanced at Mace, ready to pull her hair aside in case he needed her blood.

Then she stilled.

The pattern around Mace’s neck gave off an eerie blue luminescence. It swirled around his collar, pulsing and…writhing? Like a living thing.

She ran her fingers over a section that wrapped toward his nape, and he hissed in pain.

“What’s happening?” He gasped, cringing away from her touch.

“I-I don’t know.” She glanced up at Knox, but for what? An answer? He appeared as confounded as she was. She turned back to Mace. “You’re, uh, neck is glowing.”

Through harsh breaths, Mace explained, “It started burning…took me by surprise. Dropped me, it was so excruciating.”

“I was seeing to him,” Knox grumbled indignantly, “before some crazy chick had her mutant pussy knock me on my ass. I’d appreciate a reprieve.” With a cock of his head, he indicated Meeka’s crushing claws digging into his chest.

Meeka bared her fangs at him, awaiting Cora’s instructions. One word from her and Knox would be without a jugular.

So tempting.

She hesitated, glancing back at Mace.

Mace nodded. “Let him up.”

She sighed and waved a careless hand to Meeka. The feline backed off, but remained on guard.

After pulling himself to a stand, Knox made a show of straightening his shirt. “If I didn’t know better,
cher
, I’d think you were almost disappointed. Feeling a little bloodlust, are we?”

Easily disregarding Knox, she turned back to Mace. “Is this from the spell Ms. Windshaw placed on you?”

He nodded again. “I think so. Looks like it’s finally been activated.”

“We need to go see Sara, then. We need her to remove this if she can.”

“First thing in the morning, love. My energy is toast. I need to rest.” He paused and glanced up at her. “I need you.”

She blinked. It was the first time he’d said that without a hint of lust.

“Of course.” She helped him stand, and she got the impression he was struggling not to lean on her. She hopped Saraphine would be able to free him of this awful hex. Or rather, was willing to. Her last words echoed.
Unless you’re ready to hand over Knox, we have nothing to talk about.

But that wasn’t an option. At least not yet. She needed proof. She needed a plan. But more than that, she needed Saraphine to take away this curse.

Grudgingly, she faced Knox, hating her next words. “We may need your…particular brand of persuasion. Saraphine won’t want to help.”

Knox gave her a cold grin. And yet, ever so slightly, maybe even without his awareness, his chest jutted, as if his crass demeanor and intimidating manner were something to be proud of. “I believe you own me an apology first.”

Helping Mace to the stairs, she called back. “Don’t be childish. Meeka didn’t even scratch you.”

“In the morning, then, when you’ve had time to properly compose your words.”

Mace had enough energy to power up the stairs and into their room. He collapsed at the edge of the mattress. Cora helped him remove his shoes, then his pants, but left his shirt on. She drew the plush comforter to his chest, changed into a long shirt, and then joining him under the covers.

“I’ll be okay,” he assured, before she could voice her concerns.

“Are you sure? Is it very painful?”

“It’s dimming now. This has happened before, but not to this degree.”

That gave her pause. “What if Saraphine refuses to, or can’t, remove the spell?”

“We can summon her coven. Even if they wish vengeance on Knox, it is not in their code to exact revenge from an innocent party. This curse goes against both their laws and ours.”

That eased some of her worries. “Here.” She offered her wrist. “You should drink.”

Mace cupped her face with his large hand. “You’re so good to me. Soon I’ll make a better life for you.”

Her heart melted with the fondest kind of warmth. Then he nuzzled her wrist. A heartbeat later, sharp fangs punctured her skin.

She gave a soft cry and allowed the ecstasy to take her away.

——

A low moan roused Cora from sleep. Judging by the state of darkness, the hour was late. Another moan—no, a pain-filled groan—pushed the remaining fragments of slumber from her mind.

The sound had come from Mace. Was he hurt?

She rubbed her eyes, which did nothing to clear away the pitch black of night.

“Mace,” she whispered, leaning over him. Her eyes adjusted some. He was lying on his back, his eyes closed tight. Still asleep?

As soon as her fingers slid over his collar, a bright greenish-blue light flashed, blinding her for a moment. When she was able, she studied the intricate weave of glyphs around his neck. While she did so, the glyphs grew even more vivid. Mace’s eyes flashed opened. His expression pinched, he let out a guttural sound. As one of his hands came up to grip his upper chest, his other shot out to take her shoulder…hard.

She winced.

“Cora? What’s…?” His expression twisted into an agonized grimace, and his spine bowed.

His hold on her shoulder was nearly bone breaking. By the look on her face, he must have realized because he yanked his hand away, but as he did, his fingers caught Saraphine’s talisman…

The chain ripped free.

Time moved to a crawl as Cora caught sight of the black stone arching through the air…away from her, the ends of the chain swishing freely.

She had time to suck in a horrified gasp before that familiar pressure descended upon her. She resisted, but Sadira was like a death adder, quick and agile, inserting her poisonous self into every crevice, every cell.

No!
She tried to scream, but it was too late.

——

Taking full control of what was now rightfully hers, Sadira sprang out of the bed and glanced back at Mace without a hint of pity. In fact, she took a moment to enjoy the fruits of her work. The Morrigans had all perished from that same curse.

She congratulated herself for her quick thinking to place the curse on Mace at the last minute, only moments before that young witch had unceremoniously ripped her from her new body.

That soon-to-be dead witch.

Mace thrashed, and Sadira let out a satisfied laugh. “Good luck not dying. You have about a month, I’d say.” Then she stilled, canting her head at the strange markings that encircled his collar.

Curious.

Someone had the foresight to place a protection spell on this vampire. Not that it would do much good—at best, it would merely extend his lifespan another month or two—but who could it have been? From what she understood, Cora was too dimwitted and ignorant to anticipate such necessity. Must have been that dark haired witch, Saraphine.

“Time to take care of loose ends,” She muttered, and then headed out of the room, shutting Mace inside. Afterward, she would work on getting Knox under her thumb, where he belonged.

Downstairs, the most magnificent sight greeted her: a massive cat that almost looked like a sabertooth tiger, only twice as fierce. The animal tilted its gargantuous head at her as if unsure whether to purr or growl.

“A familiar?” Sadira said, amazed. “Will the gifts of this new body never cease?” She opened the front door. “Come, beast. You belong to me now.”

The cat’s ears went back, and its head lowered a fraction. Blasé, Sadira turned and walked out, knowing the cat would have no choice but to follow.

The sound of large paws at her back made her grin.

“Be loyal to me, kitty, and you’ll have it better than your tiny feline brain could ever imagine. Live rodent toys every day, I promise.”

She glanced toward the beat up sedan to her left and turned her nose up.

POS. I wouldn’t be caught dead in that.
Never mind she hadn’t thought to check Cora’s room for keys. No matter. After being cooped up so long, she was dying for a stroll in the woods.