Wild Fire
Author: Ally Shields
Date: 2000-01-01 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Urban Fantasy; Vampires; Magic; Paranormal; Romance; Werewolves; Witches; Fantasy; Time Travel; Fae
Description: A vision. A lost talisman. A dangerous journey through time... A month after their bonding, Ari and Andreas are still adjusting to married life when they learn the hard way that the O-Seven, the terrifying and brutal vampire elders, still have them in their sights. A three million dollar bounty hangs over each of their heads, and there’s no lack of assassins eager to collect. When the local seer has a terrifying vision of the destruction of Riverdale, it’s up to Ari—as usual—to keep everyone safe. Only this time, an enemy from the past has bound her fire powers, and the city’s string of arsons
Publisher: Etopia Press
Rights: Copyright 2014 Ally Shields

Table of Contents

Cover

Table of Contents

Acclaim for Ally Shields

Look for these titles from Ally Shields

Title Page

Copyright Warning

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Epilogue

About the Author

Also by Ally Shields

More Fantasy from Etopia Press

Acclaim for Ally Shields

Praise for Awakening the Fire (Guardian Witch #1)

“I can't wait for the rest of the series from this exciting new author because I will definitely be reading them all.”

5 Stars from The Romance Studio

“If you love paranormal and a good mystery, then I can't recommend this book enough.”

5 Stars from Paranormal Romance Guild

“Vampires, werewolves, and witches oh my! In a journey through a magical world...a witch named Arianna will have you lost under her spell.”

5 Stars from I Heart Books

For Burning Both Ends (Guardian Witch #3)

“[F]ull of action, romance, betrayals and lies. [A] wonderful series.”

5 Stars from Paranormal Romance Guild

For Fire Storm (Guardian Witch #5)

“...[A]n amazing addition to the Guardian Witch series. Ally had me hooked from the very beginning and, just when I thought things couldn’t get any more intense, she kicked it up a notch! It was one hell of a journey and I loved every moment of it.”

—5 Stars from Mean Who You Are Blog

Look for these titles from Ally Shields

Now Available

The Guardian Witch Series

Awakening the Fire (Book 1)

Fire Within (Book 2)

Burning Both Ends (Book 3)

Blood and Fire (Book 4)

Fire Storm (Book 5)

Wild Fire (Book 6)

Cross Keys

In Print

Awakening the Fire (Book 1)

Fire Within (Book 2)

Burning Both Ends (Book 3)

Blood and Fire (Book 4)

Fire Storm (Book 5)

Coming Soon to Print

Cross Keys

Wild Fire

Wild Fire

Guardian Witch Book Six

Ally Shields

Etopia Press

Copyright Warning

EBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/).

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Published By

Etopia Press

1643 Warwick Ave., #124

Warwick, RI 02889
http://www.etopiapress.com

Wild Fire

Copyright © 2014 by Ally Shields

ISBN: 978-1-941692-24-0

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

First Etopia Press electronic publication: November 2014

CHAPTER ONE

Needlelike streams of magical energy—one pale blue, the other a shimmering green—arced upward through the cave’s darkness. Their glow reflected off stalactites, hanging from the rocky ceiling like boney fingers. The magics curved gracefully toward one another, guided by the man and woman standing below. At the moment of contact, a violent explosion shook the Chamber of Ages. Sparks shot down the magical trails. His wand flew into the air and dropped to clatter against one of the limestone projections on the floor.

“Damnation.”

“Ouch!” Ari shook her hands and danced away, causing the protective charms on her bracelet to jingle. Maybe she should consider using a wand. “That stung.”

Andreas swore again, softly this time, staring at the puff of smoke. An acrid hint of sulphur marked the area of magical collision. “I am certain that was not supposed to happen. Unless this was your idea of a ‘gentle melding’?” His voice barely contained his frustration.

“It was a little more forceful than I expected.” She examined her fingertips for blisters. There were none, but she stuck her stinging pinkie in the corner of her mouth when Andreas wasn’t looking. Controlling pure energy through her fingers was harder for her than the fire magic, and she hadn’t done it that way since she was a teenager—almost nine years ago. She’d hoped it would have made it easier to show Andreas what to do. But it didn’t seem to be working out that way.

He gave her a rueful look. “I don’t have much control, and this did not help.” He grimaced at the slender wand that he’d retrieved from the cavern floor.

They stood in the middle of a vast cave filled with stalactites and stalagmites. On a cold, blustery January afternoon, the interior of Riverdale’s vampire caverns was the only place they could safely practice their witch magic protected from the weather. Not that Andreas or any other vampire was bothered by the sub-zero wind chills and snow that blanketed the town, but a fire witch didn’t have the same kind of indifference to temperature. The caverns—so comfortably cool during the summer months—were barely tolerable now. Ari shivered from the chill.

“It wasn’t so bad. Every try gets better.” She stole a glance at her irritated mate. They’d been officially bonded for only a month, a rocky period of ups and downs as they adjusted to the new status. Their love hadn’t wavered, but the affinity their magics had for each other on the telepathic level was a complication. The mental link between them had grown so strong, so dominant, it made them both uneasy, and Andreas’s struggles to control his newly discovered warlock abilities often left him on edge.

Maybe a bit more than on edge. Andreas wasn’t embracing the witchcraft as easily as she’d hoped. This wasn’t his first complaint about the wand. Maybe it just didn’t fit his alpha male image. Her lips twitched. She’d never say it to him, but the wand-waving did seem a little out of character—OK, wimpy—for a badass vampire prince.

Ari hid a smile. No matter what his mood, she loved just looking at him. The fine, aristocratic features; the incredibly long lashes, the dark, brooding eyes that lit up when he caught her looking; the black lock of soft, gleaming hair that wouldn’t stay put but fell rakishly across his brow. But badass vampire or not, he needed the wand to channel his emerging magic.

She rubbed her hands, as much from the cold as the effects of the failed spell. “I’m ready to go. Before we try again, we should do more reading and talk with Zylla. This isn’t working the way I expected.”

“I am sure the fault is mine.” Andreas frowned. “Perhaps this is all a mistake. If I were intended to have warlock powers, wouldn’t they have manifested when I was young?”

Ari slanted her eyes at him. “I can’t believe you keep bringing this up. It’s no mistake. You either are a warlock or you’re not, and you obviously have the power.” She quirked a grin at him. “Even when it comes out wrong.”

“Well, this thing is not helping.” He regarded the wand with distaste.

“Fine, I’ll take it back to the magic lab.” She held out her hand. “Good thing it was a loan.” She stuck the wand in the magicks’ pouch at her waist and took his hand. “Don’t be discouraged. We’ve made a lot of progress in the last three months.”

His fingers tightened around hers. “You’re cold. You should have said something sooner.” He picked up her heavy coat, draped it across her shoulders, and rubbed her hands to warm them. “If I’ve made any progress, it is due entirely to your perseverance.”

Andreas had been unaware of his warlock abilities before a trip to his estates in Italy last fall. They’d found his family’s Book of Shadows and a letter left by his mother. His magic had not manifested in childhood, but Ari believed it had been triggered during his vampiric transformation. For two hundred years, the magic had lain unsuspected, mostly dormant, until Ari taught him how to bring it forth. Well, sort of taught him.

His mood darkened again. “My control is not strong enough to help us in a fight…which may be forced upon us soon. Rumors from Europe are growing frequent. Instead of cooling off after our escape, the O-Seven are speaking out against us, naming names.”

“Then let’s see Zylla right now.” She tugged on his hand and turned away to hide a worried frown. A visit to the reclusive eight hundred-year-old vampiress, who had started life as a witch seer, was always interesting. And talking with her was infinitely preferable to dwelling on the vampire elders’ last attack and how close Andreas had come to dying.

In a swift but typical change of mood, Andreas ended his brooding, swung her around and kissed her.

“What was that for?” She grinned up at him.

“Because I like you.” His face lit up with mischief.

“Like me? Is that all?” She ran her fingers over his jaw and up into his hair.

He chuckled, the sound sending a fire curling through her belly. “Well, perhaps a bit more.” He pinned her against a large stalagmite, his body revealing just how much more he was feeling. “Perhaps the visit to Zylla can wait.” He bent his head and captured her lips again.

She pushed him away a little breathlessly. “I’m not making love on a freezing rock. Not when we have a nice, warm bed at home.”

“Point taken.” He laughed as she wiggled away. “I suppose this means Zylla is back on the immediate agenda.”

“If you can behave.”

“Oh, do not challenge me, Arianna. The cold does not bother me in the least.”

She loved the wicked danger in his voice. “OK, I’ll stop teasing…for now. Because I really think we should talk with Zylla.”

He sighed, taking her hand again as they started into the tunnels. “To be continued.”

* * *

The ancient vampiress lived deep in the caverns with a young werejavelina for company. When they arrived, she was alone, sitting before a conjured fire and wrapped in a shawl. She’d been seventy-eight when transformed into a vampire, and although she wouldn’t feel the cold or discomforts of age again, she enjoyed the familiar accoutrements of her former life and surrounded herself with magical illusions.

“Andreas, Ari. How delightful to see you.” She gave them a saucy grin. “But why are newlyweds wasting their time visiting an old woman?”

“Never a waste of time.” Andreas bent and kissed her outstretched hand. It was easy to see why he was her favorite visitor. “I trust you are well.”

“As always. Little changes down here. Please sit and talk with me. Would you care for tea? I was waiting until Mangi returned from the market, but the pot is always on.”

“Not for me, thank you. Arianna?”

She sat next to Zylla and shook her head. “Not today, but thanks.” Andreas settled on the mat beside her, and Ari cut through the small talk. “The wand didn’t work.”

Zylla shrugged her thin shoulders. “I warned you it might not. Without the De Luca magical items, it may take years to achieve the results you want.”

“But we don’t have that kind of time,” Ari protested.

“I understand the urgency.” Zylla’s eyes were kindly. “But Andreas’s warlock magic is wedded to the family heirlooms.”

“We don’t even know what they are.” Ari crooked her head toward Andreas. “Is there anywhere else we can look?”

“We’ve been through every box, crate, and piece of furniture I saved from my family. The Italian casa and its grounds were searched.”

“Are you sure there aren’t more hiding places?” she persisted. “Like the secret compartment where we found the Book of Shadows and your mother’s letter?”

He spread his hands. “Anything is possible. But if such places exist, they were not mentioned to me.”

“Then we’ll have to do without. We can work harder, faster.” Ari appealed to Zylla. “Tell us what we can do.”

The old woman reached out to take Ari’s hand. “My dear, you ask the impossible.” She hesitated, letting out a long sigh. “But who says the two of you cannot do the impossible? Your bond is powerful and may overcome other deficiencies.”

She leaned back and frowned at Ari. “Perhaps sharing control of your magics is not the answer. Why don’t you wield both of them? Did you not do something similar in Germany, when you stole the magic of the warlock twins?”

“But I don’t want to take Andreas’s magic.” Ari had a momentary urge to stomp her foot, but a married woman should be above such childish behavior. “I thought we’d be stronger together…with both of us controlling our powers.”

“Yes, of course you would, but if that cannot be achieved, then this is second best. You would have more power at your disposal than you do now.”

Andreas touched Ari’s arm. “We should try, cara mia. The O-Seven may not give us time for what you want.”

A chill of apprehension crept across her back. She’d tasted the O-Seven’s power, and her magic wasn’t enough against it. They’d barely escaped. She wasn’t skilled enough to be the sole sorcerer. Her own Book of Shadows had returned to her only two years ago, and she’d been too busy since then to spend time with Moriana, her mentor. Her witchcraft was limited to what she’d practiced on her own. The intended trips to St. Louis to learn the new spells and potions had been continually delayed. Something always came up.

She bit her lip. Usually that something was the damned O-Seven. The paranoia of the world’s seven oldest vampires had taken over her life.

“Do not worry, my child.” Zylla peered at Ari as if reading her thoughts. “There is a way, if you can find it. I have seen this.”

“A vision?” Ari shifted to kneel at the feet of the old woman. “Tell me what you saw.”

“Fragments. Tiny pieces of imagery.” Her gaze clouded over, and she lifted one hand to make stirring motions in the air. “Vague swirls of possibility—but I feel much. To reveal the future is to risk changing it, but…there will be another. Not yet, soon. Your life will be better and worse. Nothing comes without a price. I sense terrible, unrelenting danger.” The old woman let her hand fall back to her lap. “I need more time to think on this.”

“Are you talking about the O-Seven?” Ari’s stomach twisted into a knot.

Zylla gave a soft sigh. “Yes, but danger comes in many forms.” She stared off into space as if she’d forgotten they were there.

What the hell did she mean?

Andreas unfolded his tall frame and stood. “We will leave you to meditate.” He placed his hands on his wife’s shoulders and urged her to her feet. “Thank you for talking with us, Zylla. I lack your gift of foresight, but I too have sensed that danger is closing in on us.”

Ari hardly spoke on the way to the cavern entrance. Zylla’s gift of prophecy wasn’t infallible, but it always contained some truth. While Andreas’s growing unease might just be a natural reaction to the O-Seven’s past actions, Zylla’s vision couldn’t be explained as easily.

Yet Ari had felt no warning. No dreams, no stirring of her magic. It had never failed her before. So what was different this time?

Andreas broke into her thoughts. “You are quiet. Is it the vision?”

“In a way. If we’re in danger, why hasn’t my magic told me?” She stopped and looked up at him, struggling with her fear. “Is something wrong with my magic? Or with me? Maybe it’s my fault our craft won’t work together. I couldn’t stop the elders’ psychic powers last fall. Now this.”

He clasped her arms with his hands, dark eyes narrowed. “Arianna, this is foolish talk. Nothing is wrong with you or your magic. Tell me what’s going on inside your head.”

She buried her face against his chest. “You almost died. I don’t want to lose you.”

Andreas sucked in a quick breath and slipped his arms around her. “You will never lose me, cara mia.”

They stood quietly for a moment as Ari fought back tears. This was the downside of loving someone. She cared too much, and so many people in her life had died. Her parents, Great-Gran, her guardian mentor Yana, and most recently her childhood friend Brando. She hadn’t been able to save any of them.

* * *

By the time they reached the surface of the cliffs and came back into cell phone range, both phones were ringing, and in the distance the town sirens wailed.

What now? Ari zipped up her coat and grabbed the phone from her pocket. Caller ID lit up. Her partner, Ryan.

“Where are you?” Lt. Ryan Foster, Riverdale PD, demanded. “City Hall’s on fire this time. And unless our arsonist has a flame thrower, this has got to be an Otherworlder.”

“Huh? I don’t get it.”

“I’ll explain when you get here.”

“OK, I’m on my way, but it better be good to drag me across town in this storm.” She disconnected and shrugged at Andreas, who was talking into his own phone. “Police business. Another suspicious fire. I have to go.”

He nodded reluctantly. “I’ll be at the club. The band for tonight just called in sick.”

She blew him a kiss.

“Hold on,” he said into the phone. In one long stride he grabbed and kissed her. “No air kisses. Not good enough,” he whispered in her ear.

His soft words sent her off with a smile on her face.

* * *

City Hall was fully engulfed in flames and dark smoke. Firefighters struggled to handle the hoses in the cold; the water spray had started to form icy crystals on nearby buildings. By morning the area would be an ice palace, hiding the devastation. There were two buildings that already looked that way from yesterday’s fires.

Riverdale had an arsonist. But until Ryan’s latest call, Ari hadn’t thought it had anything to do with her. As a guardian for the Magic Council, only crimes committed by or against Otherworlders fell under her jurisdiction. Ryan was her liaison with the human PD and the head detective of their Inter-Cultural Division.

His tall blond figure waved at her from near a group of fire trucks, and she stomped toward him through the snow.

“Anybody hurt?” she asked.

“Nobody’s been inside yet, but we think they all got out. It was called in about 5:00 p.m., and most workers were off at 4:30. We have a witness this time. Sort of.”

She wrinkled her brow. “What’s a sort-of witness?”

“Says he saw a fireball hit the building.” Ryan pointed to a man huddled in a heavy parka. His crisp suit pants and polished shoes said he was a local businessman. “But he didn’t see who—or what—it came from.”

“Fireball, huh? Let’s see if he can be more specific.” Ari cut across the street to question the witness and waited for Ryan, who stopped to let a fire truck pass then followed her.

The witness was eager to tell his story again. He bobbed his head emphatically. “Yes, a fireball. In fact, two fireballs, not just one. When the first one came in low, I thought it was a missile off target. But when I saw the second one, I knew it was no accident.”

Ari blinked. A missile? There were no missile bases within hundreds of miles. “Which direction?”

He pointed to an alley across the street. “Right between the hardware store and the dental clinic.”

They thanked the witness and headed for the alley.

“We’ve checked around the area,” Ryan said. “Found some tracks in the snow going out the back end, but I waited until you got here to follow them. I’m not anxious for my officers to run into an unknown supernatural predator. I’ll call SWAT if you think we need them.”

“I’d rather take a look first.”

At the far end of the alley, Ryan pointed out multiple sets of tracks. Most of them forged a path in the snow around the exterior of the building. Firemen or police. But one set went behind the next building and was definitely leaving the area.

They trudged across the six-inch depth of heavy white flakes. It had started snowing again. Even with gloves on, Ari stuck her hands in her pockets to protect them from the brisk wind that was picking up the icy crystals and swirling them around. They’d have to hurry before the tracks were obscured.

“What do you think did this?” Ryan asked.

“The tracks are the size and shape of a humanoid shoe. Of the creatures that live around here—other than me, and I didn’t do it—” She grinned at him. “It’s most likely a halfling demon. They’re part-human, some of them can throw or breathe fire, and they have enough free will to choose between good and evil. Obviously this wasn’t one of the good guys.”

“I don’t get it. Why would a demon start burning buildings? Why pick City Hall?”

“Off his meds?” she quipped.

Ryan stopped in his tracks. “Are you telling me demons take meds for mental disorders?”

“I was kidding, Ryan.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know?” he grumbled, catching up with her again. “I suppose it’s too much to expect an Otherworlder to think and act like an ordinary firebug.”

“We’ll ask him why he did it when we find him.”

The footprints gradually moved up the slope that sat under the older parts of Riverdale, out of the tourist district, past residential homes, and angled toward the cliffs that overlooked the Mississippi River. Then they took a sharp swing north.

Ari looked ahead, her gaze following the tracks through the wrought iron fence and into the Riverdale Cemetery. “I don’t like this.” She came to a stop with one hand on the gate. “Don’t you think the tracks have been too obvious? As if he wanted us to follow him?” Her eyes scanned the cemetery grounds for anything unusual—a shadow, a hint of color out of place among the stones and crypts. The tracks led behind a tall mausoleum.

“A trap?” Ryan drew his pistol. “Do you sense something?”

“Maybe. But there’s a lot of magical interference in graveyards.” Ari frowned. She sensed a flicker of Otherworld power, but it didn’t feel right. Shielded? Would a halfling demon be that good? She eased through the gate, and Ryan followed close behind. Her magic stirred, raising the hairs on her arms, and she stopped, extending her witch senses to probe the area around them—tasting, smelling, touching the environment. Her magic roared to life.

“Back!” she shouted.

Two gigantic figures leaped from the top of the nearest crypt. A howling rent the quiet of the cemetery. By the time the creatures landed—one in front of Ari and Ryan, the other between them and the gate—both had morphed into fiery-red, eight-foot demons, their eyes deep black holes. Each carried a metal shield and swung a five-foot medieval flail.

“Hellsgate warriors!” Ari crouched, raising her fingers to call the witch fire.

“What’s a hellsgate warrior?”

Ari ducked as the first one swung his flail in a vicious loop. “Half-demon hit men.” She unleashed her fire magic. The fiery bolt was absorbed by his shield. The second warrior lumbered toward Ryan, who backed away, firing his gun twice. Both bullets pinged off the shield.

“How do we fight them?” Ryan jumped behind a tombstone, firing again.

“Stay out of reach until you can get a good shot at the soft spots, eyes or throat.” She twisted aside to avoid another charge and hit the warrior’s legs with a stream of fire. He yowled and stumbled.

Ryan fired at the warrior stalking toward him. It whirled the flail over its head, the chain gathering speed and striking power. “Will my bullets kill them?”

“If you hit them right.”

Ari vaulted onto the top of a crypt for a better vantage point, but the demon followed. She leaped to a second crypt. The demon launched himself in pursuit but fell short and tumbled into the snow. Unaffected by the impact, he hefted his bulk upright and came at her again. He swung the flail and struck the crypt Ari stood upon, breaking off huge chunks of stone. She stepped back from the edge and rained witch fire upon him, but he deflected it with his shield.

Ari glanced sideways at Ryan. His attacker was getting much too close. She shot fire at him and Ryan scrambled behind a stone monument.

She refocused her fire on the demon below her. His shield began to melt under the steady stream, but the mausoleum beneath her was crumbling even faster. Ari ran to the far side and dropped to the ground. The hellsgate warrior continued to pulverize the stone monument for several seconds until he realized she was gone.

She hid behind a tall tombstone and peered around the corner in search of Ryan. He was backing between rows of gravestones, firing sporadically as the second demon stalked him. Ryan concentrated his shots on the head and neck like she’d suggested, but the creature wasn’t stopping.

A growl warned Ari that the other demon had spotted her. She turned to confront him, then whirled around at the loud crackling of stone.

Ryan’s attacker had shattered the gravestone in front of him, sending shards flying. A large chunk of granite caught Ryan in the shoulder, and he stumbled and fell backward. Ari leaped behind the demon and shot fire at the arm swinging the spiked flail. He roared and twisted, biting at the fire on his back. She poured more hot magic into him, and the warrior fell to his knees.

Ryan struggled to his feet and fired his pistol at the demon’s face and throat. The creature shrieked and thrashed the air with his burning arms. His movements slowed, and he toppled forward into the snow.

Hearing a crunch behind her, Ari dodged aside. The remaining demon’s spiked weapon missed her by inches. Incensed by his companion’s death scream, he shook his half-melted shield, threw it at her, and charged forward in his stiff-legged gait.

Ryan reloaded and began shooting again, but Ari’s witch fire needed time to recharge. She darted away and kept tombstones between her and the lumbering creature. Ryan followed but from the back he had no soft targets. The only weapon she had was her dagger; not a good choice with a hellsgate warrior unless you were close enough to stick it in his eye. She hoped not to get that close.

The demon swung the spiked ball from side to side on its chain, clearing a path and sending broken stones flying in every direction. Ari was fast running out of real estate. The five-foot wrought iron fence that surrounded the graveyard was right at her back.

Clearing that height would ordinarily be no problem, if she had room enough to make the jump. She went the only direction she could. She sprang forward to the demon’s right to leap over the gravestones to safety. His weapon caught her arm, spinning her. She landed at his feet.

The warrior roared in victory and swung the chain to wield the fatal blow. Ari threw her dagger and pierced the corner of the demon’s left eye. He screamed in pain and yanked it out. Ryan jumped in front of him and emptied his pistol into the creatures’ face. Ari scooted backward as fast as she could to avoid being crushed by the falling body. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Breathing hard, Ryan spun around to look for her, his eyes wide.

“By the Goddess, Ryan. That was close. Thanks.” She got up and walked toward him, examining the deep tear in her coat sleeve. “You bagged yourself a hellsgate warrior.”

He straightened and started to grin. “I guess it was my turn to save the day.”

“You cert—”

The air shimmered and crackled. A black-cloaked figure dropped in front of them and a glowing green net of magic settled over Ari.

“No. No!” She flung her hands up, plucking at the netting, and sank to her knees.

“Ah, yes, Ari. Did you think you were rid of me?” said a familiar, cultured German voice. The handsome blond warlock smirked at her.

“Gerhard.” His name barely made it past her lips.

His smug look deepened.

“What are you doing to her?” Ryan demanded, staring at Ari’s ashen face. He yanked out his last magazine and clicked it in place. Gerhard snapped his fingers, and the pistol flew from Ryan’s grip.

The warlock’s eyes darkened in anger. “No nasty toys allowed, human.”

“Arianna!” Andreas’s shout filled the air.

Gerhard whipped his head around as the vampire crashed through the cemetery gate. The warlock threw a bolt of magical fire. Andreas easily stepped aside.

“Damned vampire.” Gerhard snapped his fingers and vanished into a black haze.

Ryan crouched beside her. “Ari, what’s happening to you? What can I do?”

Panic seized her throat, and she couldn’t respond. Her fingers plucked frantically at the threads of the magical net that was settling into her skin. She was close to sobs by the time Andreas scooped her out of the snow, cradling her in his arms.

“Arianna, what is it?”

Even Andreas’s presence didn’t stem the flood of fear. Ari had never seen a binding net, but she knew what they did.

Gerhard had bound her magic.

She gulped in several deep breaths, fighting to get the rage, the shock, and the sense of violation under control.

Andreas turned to Ryan in desperation. “Tell me what happened.” His words come out raw with fear.

“We were fighting the hellsgate creatures. The last one was down, and then this guy dropped out of nowhere.”

“Gerhard,” she said, lifting her head from his shoulder.

Andreas looked stunned. “Gerhard? How is that possible? What did he do to you?”

“He threw this green net-like thing over her,” Ryan said.

“A binding net.” Ari swallowed hard and wiggled to be put down. “He bound my powers with a spell.”

Andreas stilled. After a moment, he set her down. “Then we will unbind them.”

She leaned against him, wanting him to make it all go away, knowing he couldn’t. “I wish it were that easy.”

He put his hand under her chin and tipped her face up to look at him. “We will make it happen.”

Ari wanted to believe that. In fact, she had to believe that. “OK.” She took a shaky breath, gathering her scattered wits. “OK,” she repeated, and this time she meant it. No one was going to defeat her—not a lowlife like Gerhard Kirsch.

She straightened. “We have to warn Gabriel. Gerhard might go after them. And Samuel at the house.”

“I will take care of it. But if Gerhard was by himself, he won’t take on the compound again. He is not a fighter. Not unless a win is guaranteed.” Andreas’s face hardened. “We should have killed him when we had the chance.”

CHAPTER TWO

Ari clutched Andreas’s hand as the three of them headed for his office at Club Dintero, his elegant supper club. As they approached the club’s private side entrance, she abruptly stopped. “Hold on. I sense vampiric power inside.”

Ryan frowned. “Well, that’s not a surprise. What else—” Her words finally sunk in.

“You sense it? Even through the net?” Andreas asked.

“I don’t understand.” She reached out with her magical senses and found scents and sounds beyond the walls. She straightened, excitement lighting her face. How was that possible? Her witch senses were working. Had the binding been temporary? She pointed her fingers toward a large rock at the side of the alley and concentrated on her witch fire. Her fingertips didn’t even tingle.

She let her hands fall to her sides. “The senses work, but not the fire.”

“It is a start, and better than we thought a few minutes ago.” Andreas keyed in the security code, took her hand again, and led her into the building, Ryan following behind.

Inside Andreas’s office, she took off her coat and sat on the couch. Ryan took a chair by the desk.

“Wait here,” Andreas said. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

She waited, still dazed, struggling to understand what had happened to her. Andreas returned quickly with three glasses and two bottles of wine.

He pressed a glass of chardonnay into her fingers. “I am at a loss for where to begin, cara mia. Were you aware Gerhard had escaped the witches’ prison?”

She looked at him “Of course I didn’t know. I would have told you.” Her phone chirped from her coat pocket on the back of the couch. Ari dug it out and saw Sophie’s picture on the caller ID, her witch friend from Germany.

Ari answered the call. “Sophie, Gerhard was just here.”

Sophie’s voice rose with concern. “Are you OK? You didn’t call me back, so I was trying again to warn you that he had escaped. We’ve all been on high alert for hours, but I can’t believe he went all the way to America so quickly.”

She must have missed the call when they were in the caverns. “When did this happen? And how?”

“Over forty-eight hours ago. As near as we can reconstruct it, the O-Seven used their psychic powers to fog the minds of the jailors and allow a large force of vampires to enter the prison facility. They killed every witch on the premises. The bodies were discovered when a deliveryman arrived yesterday morning. We didn’t hear about it until just a few hours ago.” She paused. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Physically, yes, but he bound my fire magic.”

“He what?” Sophie nearly shrieked this time.

“He used a binding spell that looked like a green net. Have you seen that specific spell before? Do you know how to diffuse it?”

“Scheiβe. I wish I did.”

Ari swallowed her disappointment.

“I’ll ask the Witches’ League. Wait. Are you telling me he broke the League’s binding and has his own powers back?”

“Enough to teleport and cast a binding spell.”

“This is all their fault. They should have executed him.” Sophie paused again, as if thinking about it. “At his trial, he was accused of using the Maleficus.”

Ari gasped. “You’re kidding. The book really exists?”

“Oh, it’s real enough. We have good documentation of its existence. He denied using it, of course, but it’s long been rumored to be hidden somewhere in the vampire stronghold. If your Magic Council doesn’t have the full history, let me know, and we’ll get it to you. But the spells involved are so dark that our coven cannot touch them. You have to have demon blood.”

“Then how did Gerhard use them? He may be evil, but his bloodlines are pure witch.”

“I don’t know. We’re looking into it.”

Ari sighed. “Well, if I can’t use a demon book to break the spell, I’ll have to find another way. Since the Witches’ League can bind, can’t they also unbind?”

“Yes, of course, but the council uses a counterspell to the exact words that created the binding. You’ll need the original spell. At least, that’s what I always thought. But that doesn’t explain how Gerhard broke the witches’ binding. That’s something else I’ll ask the League when I warm them about his restored powers.” She hesitated. “I’ve had enough experience with teleportation to know he didn’t teleport all the way from Germany. I don’t care how powerful he or this Maleficus is. You should check with the airlines.”

Ari disconnected and told Andreas and Ryan about the Maleficus, the ancient book of demon lore.

“Accursed,” Andreas said.

“What?” Ryan frowned at Andreas’s terse remark.

“Maleficus. It means accursed.”

Ryan’s frown deepened. “Great. More of this hocus-pocus devil stuff. What was it that you said about bloodlines and Gerhard being all witch? What does that mean?”

“We were speculating how he had used the spells from the Maleficus. They require demon blood.”

Andreas refilled his empty wine glass. “Similar to using human and animal blood in sacrificial rites?”

Ari pursed her lips. “Maybe. I’m not sure. She made it sound like the sorcerer had to be part demon, have demon DNA in his blood.”

“In your blood or just your body?” Ryan asked. “Maybe he drank it.”

Ari made a face. “Ew. Blood doesn’t taste good to witches like it does to vampires. Gerhard would have to have a very strong stomach. But again, I don’t know. I guess I have a lot of research to do on the Maleficus and how to break a binding spell.” She handed her wineglass back to Andreas. “I’d better switch to coffee. I’ll make some calls tonight.”

Andreas seemed encouraged by her interest in getting started, and his expression relaxed. “One pot of coffee coming up.” He stepped toward the door and pulled it open. The club’s security officer stood just outside with his hand poised to knock.

“Russell, were you looking for me?”

Russell glanced quickly around the room. “Sorry to interrupt. Just checking to see if you got the message I left.”

Andreas looked at his desk. A white note lay in the middle. “I hadn’t noticed. Is it important?”

“Prince Daron called. He’d tried your mobile, but I noticed you’d left it here.”

Andreas automatically patted his jeans pocket but spotted the phone on the credenza behind his desk. “I left in a hurry. Did he say what he wanted?” Andreas picked up the phone and thumbed through his messages.

Russell hesitated. Andreas looked up at him from his phone.

“Only for you to call him back.”

“All right. I will take care of it. Would you have someone bring a pot of coffee?” Andreas glanced at Ari and Ryan. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll step out and make that call. Let us hope this is not more bad news.”

Ari frowned as he closed the door behind him. Why was he stepping out? His usual paranoia about discussing vampire business in front of humans like Ryan? Or it was the way Russell had acted. Ill at ease. Cautious. Unless she was the one getting paranoid.

Ryan shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Convenient how Andreas showed up at the cemetery. I suppose that was the mysterious link you talk about.”

“Yeah, he can sense my feelings. Why?” She frowned at him.

“Nothing, just wondered. It must be hard having someone always tuned in to you.” He shrugged. “Not to change the subject, but who actually set the fires? The tracks we followed from City Hall weren’t made by one of those hellsgate guys.”

“You’re right about that. We were lured into a trap by someone. I still think a halfling demon with hellfire is involved.”

Ryan scooted forward. “There’s your demon blood. He must have helped Gerhard with the spell. And we should be out looking for him.”

She gave a weary sigh. “Don’t worry, Ryan. I know I have a job to do, and I’ll try to keep up my end of things.”

“I’m not worried about that, but I’d hate to see more fires set because we made the wrong assumptions.”

“Yeah, me too.” She stared at her hands again. How had everything gotten so messed up?

Ryan was good at picking up cues. “I should be going. Paperwork. And I want to get out a BOLO on Gerhard. At least we have a name and description. If there’s anything I can do for you…”

“Thanks. Let me if he’s spotted, otherwise, I’ll be in touch tomorrow.”

He stopped at the door and looked over his shoulder. “You know that gun you brought back from Germany? You should keep it with you 24/7.”

Ari straightened. She’d forgotten the Walther PPS, a gift from one of the German witches. It wasn’t as good as witch fire, but it had good stopping power, especially loaded with silver bullets. “Thanks for the reminder.”

He gave her a nod and left.

While she waited for Andreas, Ari examined the tips of her fingers, almost expecting them to look different. She hadn’t been without her witch fire from the moment of its discovery when she was two years old and throwing a tantrum. A reluctant smile tugged at her mouth as she thought about how difficult it must have been for her parents, trying to reason with a small child who wasn’t yet capable of reason.

The office door opened, and Andreas’s gaze met hers. “It was not good news.”

Her stomach clenched. How much worse could it get?

“What is it?” She shifted to face him as he came to sit beside her. “Just tell me.”

“The O-Seven has placed a bounty on our heads. Three million each. Tonight won’t be the last attempt to collect.”

She leaned her head against the back of the couch. “Yeah, OK. So, there’ll be more like the hellsgate warriors. But the reward isn’t what Gerhard wanted. He’s seeking revenge. I delivered him to the Witches League to take his powers away, so he took mine.” She paused to steady her voice. “He wants me to suffer.”

Andreas took her hands in his. “There is more. Daron has heard that two of the elders are on their way to America.”

Her heart nearly stopped this time. “Who?”

“He had only one name. Bastian.”

“Daron’s sire?” She sat up. “Why him? What does this mean?”

Andreas shrugged. “Strangely enough, Daron claims the warning of their proposed visit came from Bastian himself, through roundabout channels.”

“Bastian’s warning us? Then maybe it’s not so bad.”

Andreas shook his head. “He cast off his own First Son centuries ago and still refuses to acknowledge Daron as a member of his bloodline. If Bastian is coming, it will be for his own benefit, not ours. Don’t forget, his specialty is mind control.”

Ari shivered. “I remember.” A numbing fear crept through her. Not fear for herself, but for Andreas. How could she attempt to protect him from the O-Seven without her powers?

Andreas pulled her head against his shoulder. “We can handle this, cara mia. Are you ready to go home? We have much to think about.”

“Yeah, and I want to get my gun. I might even buy a second one.” She lifted her head to look at his face. “If they want a fight, let’s give it to them.”

His eyes glittered. “Exactly what I was thinking.”

* * *

Within minutes of reaching Andreas’s Victorian mansion—which Ari still wasn’t used to thinking of as hers—she settled before the artificial fire in the study while Andreas started making calls. He spoke again with Prince Daron in Toronto, Canada, and conferred with the vampire princes of several other American cities about the potential arrival of the O-Seven. While the vampires were talking it over, Ari called Emma, the high priestess of her home coven in Perry. It was not a warrior coven, and none of Ari’s witch sisters were fire witches or guardians, but they’d always been there when she needed them.

“As always. Whatever you need.” Typically, Emma remained calm. “Perhaps we can provide power for a protection shield.”

“Not against the O-Seven, I won’t let them near you.” Ari was firm, almost brusque. “What I really need is someone who can help me restore my powers. Another fire witch to advise me.”

“Have you spoken to Moriana?”

Ari absently rubbed the arm where the mace had left a deep bruise. “She wasn’t home, but she isn’t a fire witch either.”

“You don’t need a fire witch,” Emma insisted. “You need an expert on demon lore. That’s the only way you can create the right counterspell.”

Ari frowned at the phone. “So how do I find someone who’s studied the Maleficus?”

“Try the library.”

Ari was still asking the same questions an hour later when she had a chance to talk with Moriana. The older witch gave her much the same advice as Emma—find a conjuror or a scholar who had studied the Maleficus. Moriana also reminded Ari there were other elements of magic that she should be working on.

“Fire is your specialty, but now that you have your Book of Shadows with the proper spells and potions for your family, you should be perfecting the other major magics.”

Ari drummed her fingers impatiently on the arm of the chair as they disconnected. Hindsight was great, but not particularly helpful. Yes, she should have taken time to work on the other magics, but it hadn’t fit into her hectic life. She sighed loudly and tamped down the frustration that was making her irritable. Convenient or not, she’d have to make the other magics a priority now. Her air, earth, and water powers—and the Walther—were all she had.

Andreas raised a brow at her heavy sigh. “Tired? There is little more you can do tonight.” He stood and held out a hand to her. “I noticed you rubbing your arm. A massage might help.”

She rewarded him with the beginnings of a smile. “Is that shorthand for something else?”

His lips curved, and he pulled her up beside him. “That depends. We can start with a massage, and see where it takes us.”

* * *

Since Ari had conquered her phobia of seeing Andreas “die” at dawn, she often stayed in his bed until he fell asleep. But she hadn’t gotten used to sleeping with his immobile figure, so she always moved down the hall to the Chantilly Suite for the rest of the night. Normally falling back to sleep for a couple extra hours was no problem, but this time she lay awake, worrying about everything that had happened that day.

Even if she had her witch fire, the coming of the O-Seven would be a frightening prospect. The Walther would help against the contract killers, but not the O-Seven. With her fire magic gone and Andreas unable to control his warlock abilities, they were in serious trouble.

She rolled over restlessly, fluffed her pillows, and sought a more comfortable spot. But the fault wasn’t with the bed or the pillows.

She bolted upright. Zylla! The old witch-turned-vampire had been around for eight hundred years. In all that time, surely she’d heard something useful about the Maleficus. Ari dropped back against the pillows, a game plan forming in her head. First, a visit to the Magic Council to update her bosses on recent events and see what their researchers and ancient tomes could tell her, then back to the caverns as soon as Zylla was awake.

Oh, and she needed to help Ryan find the arsonist.

CHAPTER THREE

It was late morning before Ari dragged herself out of bed, showered, and dressed. Before she left the house, she called and had a long talk with the wizard who was the president of the Magic Council and her primary boss. Their conversation centered on the loss of her fire power—until she mentioned the potential visit of the O-Seven. The President was alarmed. The elders had fueled the conflict between the witches and vampires of Europe for hundreds of years. America didn’t need the fighting to spread. He would call an emergency meeting of the local council and warn the councils of other North American cities.

“The O-Seven’s presence will open old wounds.” He paused and seemed to gather his thoughts. “But what about you, Arianna? In the face of this new threat, are you able to continue as Guardian without your fire abilities?”

“I’m going to find a way to break this binding. If I don’t, or if I fail to do my job, then I’ll resign. I just need a little time.”

“You have it. All you need. But why don’t I call in Bodie? He could back you up by taking over your routine duties, and if the O-Seven come to Riverdale, we will need all the help we can get.”

“Good idea.” While she might have resisted the suggestion at one time, Tom Bodie, an earth witch from St. Louis and retired guardian, had stepped in last fall when Ari was away. He was smart, savvy, and had no interest in returning to full-time work. He’d be an asset.

With council notification out of the way, Ari went to the forensic and research lab to consult with her friend Cillian. The slender, blonde elfgirl’s lab coat was one Ari hadn’t seen before. Orange and green. Cillian believed that bright colors aided creativity.

“Ari! What brings you among the nerds? Are you in deep do-do again?”

Her infectious grin brought a rueful smile to Ari’s lips. “And sinking fast. I hope you can throw me a lifeline.”

Cillian studied her face and sobered. “Seriously? I’ve been involved in an experiment the last two days. Has something happened?”

Ari filled her in on everything from the series of arsons to her run-in with Gerhard. “I’ve got to get my powers back.”

“Wow.” Cillian sank down onto her lab stool. “That’s awful. What can I do?”

“I need anything I can find on binding spells and on the Maleficus. I don’t suppose you have a copy?”

“I don’t know, but Jacob will. He’s our new librarian and head researcher.”

“Can you point him out? I want to get started right away. I need my fire magic to deal with the O-Seven.”

Cillian frowned at her, but Ari merely shrugged. Everyone knew her fire was one of the main reasons she’d survived this long. It was the great equalizer with the vampires, who had no normal defense against it. Her witches’ oath limited its use to self defense, but the vampire elders were a different threat entirely, a simple matter of survival. She wouldn’t hesitate to incinerate them all…if she ever got the opportunity.

“Come with me, and I’ll introduce you to Jacob. I think you’ll like him.” The elf led her to the far corner of the huge lab where the walls were filled with books on magic and alchemy. “There he is.” She pointed.

Ari’s eyes narrowed, and she came to a halt. “How long did you say he’s been here?” She scrutinized the man placing a stack of books on a cart. Reddish spiky hair, ruddy complexion. Jacob was your typical, everyday halfling demon. “Does he have fire ability?”

“What? No. At least I don’t think so. You don’t…” Cillian glanced at him again. “No, Jacob’s not your firebug. He’s been here five months, and he’s not the least bit anti-social.”

“I don’t like coincidences,” Ari muttered.

“But they do happen.” Cillian plucked at Ari’s sleeve to get her to look at her. “Give him a chance. You’ll see.”

Cillian said his name, and the halfling turned toward them. A smile creased his face as he approached.

His eyes widened at Ari’s scowl, but he stuck out his hand. “I know who this is. I’ve heard a lot about you, guardian. You were acquainted with my cousin Maleban.”

Ari stiffened. She’d fought beside Maleban two years ago when he died during a fight with rogue werewolves, but more important at the moment, he’d been a fire breather. She forced herself to remain casual. “Yes, I did. Do you share his affinity for fire?”

“Naw, he was the fire-eater in our family. Pretty cool. All the cousins smoked as kids, and Mal used to light our cigs.” The corners of his eyes crinkled at the memory. “But you’re not here about Maleban. What can I do for you?”

Ari wasn’t convinced she should trust him. She needed to do a background check on him, but she also needed information, badly enough that she was willing to take a chance on tipping her hand to the enemy. “Are you familiar with a book called the Maleficus?”

His face lit up. “I love it when someone asks about the old books. We don’t own a Latin copy, but we have a partial translation.” He pushed a ladder on wheels along the wall that was filled with books from floor to ceiling. Many of them were loosely bound volumes of ragged, yellowed pages, and as they drew closer, Ari picked up the familiar musty smell of old leather. Jacob finally stopped, climbed about midway, and tapped his fingers gently along the spines until he found the one he wanted. He pulled out a black book and tucked it under his arm before climbing down.

“Careful. It’s our only copy.” He handed the book to Ari. It felt smooth to the touch, almost slick, although she sensed it was very old.

“It’s been covered with a preservative potion,” he explained, watching her face. “The Maleficus is much older, but even this translation has been around for centuries.”

Ari opened the pages. Although it had been translated, the language was still unusual, almost unreadable by modern standards. “Where can I find a Latin copy? I need to know the words of an ancient spell in the original Latin text.”

Jacob tapped his chin. “Perhaps in older libraries, like in Europe. Would you want me to do some checking?”

“That would be great. Thank you.” The librarian acted sincere, as if he genuinely wanted to help her. And maybe he did. “May I borrow this?”

“Remove it from the library? I’m afraid not.” Mild shock registered on his face. “Not something this rare.”

“Well, I guess I can read it here.”

“Wonderful.” His expression lightened. He pointed to a nearby table, scooped up a handful of paper strips, and offered them to her. “Mark any pages of particular interest, and we can copy them.”

“I’m going to leave you to it,” Cillian said. “You know where to find me. If you’re still here at noon, let’s do lunch.” She waved at someone and hurried away. Ari took her book to the library table.

“While you’re busy reading, I’ll reach out to my contacts and try to locate a copy in Latin.” Jacob returned to his desk.

Ari watched him for a moment. Cillian was right. She kind of liked the guy, but it was an odd coincidence.

As she’d suspected, the translation was useless. After a painstaking hour of deciphering the words, Ari closed the book. Not one mention of spells that could bind or restore powers. She’d read a lot about deadly curses and soul stealing, enough to give her goose bumps, but nothing pointed her toward an answer to her current dilemma. When she returned the book to Jacob, he told her he had a lead on a Latin copy and promised to keep searching.

Ari stepped outside the lab into new flurries of snow. She zipped her coat higher and stuck her hands in her pockets. She tucked her head and started walking up the street, not paying much attention to her surroundings until a police cruiser pulled alongside her.

Ryan lowered the window. “Need a ride?”

“You’re just the person I was going to see.”

“And I was looking for you. Hop in.” He reached over and opened the passenger door. “I thought I’d go back to the cemetery, take another look around for tracks leaving the area.”

“Then we better hurry. If this snow picks up, it will coat everything.” She brushed the flakes off her shoulders, slid in, and closed the door. “I have a name for you to check. Jacob Deerling. He’s a halfling demon who works for the magic lab.”

Ryan gave her a sharp look. “You think he’s our guy?” He picked up his police radio.

“No, not really. But it’s odd he shows up just months before the arsons. He claims he doesn’t have any fire ability, but he might be lying.” She shrugged. “I’d feel better if I knew for sure.”

She stared out the window while Ryan called in the information. As they arrived at the cemetery gate, he hung up the police radio, and Ari got out. She stood for a moment, then squared her shoulders. Returning to the scene had brought it all back. She almost expected to see Gerhard step out from behind a crypt.

She reached out with her magic, found nothing, then slowly scanned the area with her eyes. She noted the disturbances in the snow caused by the fight and later by the police and magic lab crews clearing away the evidence and the bodies. It was a mess. She headed directly to the back of the cemetery. If there were clear footprints, they’d be back there.

She stopped, puzzled. The snow was unbroken except for animal tracks. A rabbit, a pair of deer that had jumped the fence. “I don’t see anything.”

Ryan shaded his eyes against the snow glare. “The arsonist could have hidden until the fight was over, then gone out the front gate.”

“It’s possible, I suppose.”

They retraced their footprints toward the front gate.

Ari came to a sudden halt. “What an idiot I am.” She clenched her hands into fists. “There was no halfling. It was Gerhard. He’s a fire witch. He led us here, waited until the warriors drained my magic, then popped back in to bind my powers.” Ari fumed, furious with herself. She must have been more rattled by last night’s events than she’d realized. She—of all people—should have known.

“I guess that would explain everything.”

They drove to Ryan’s office, and Ari sulked over a cup of coffee. “I can’t believe I screwed up like that.”

She must have said it more than once, because Ryan called her on it. “Don’t take this wrong, Ari, but it’s time to suck it up.”

She shot him a black scowl. It didn’t faze him.

“I mean it. Instead of all this pissing and moaning, let’s figure out what we do about it.”

“Geez, Ryan. Don’t hold back on my account.”

“I don’t intend too, unless you stop pouting.”

She slumped back in her chair. “I’ve been struggling. But Gerhard is my problem now. There’s no mystery for the police department to solve, just catching the culprit. Even if he’s still around, I think the city’s buildings are safe. He started the fires to attract my attention. Well, he has it.” She glared at her coffee cup. Gerhard might have gotten a second chance in Germany, but not here. The next time they met, one of them wouldn’t be walking away.

Ryan leaned back in his desk chair. “Last I heard warlocks could be captured or killed. That sounds like police work to me. Don’t even think about shutting me out.”

She shifted uncomfortably. “That wasn’t what I intended. But this situation feels pretty personal.”

“He’s just another criminal who needs locking up.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Her head jerked up. “But that won’t happen if I don’t start thinking like a cop. Sophie told me something important. She said Gerhard couldn’t have teleported all that distance over the ocean. He’d have to fly in and out of the country. She told me to check the airlines.”

Ryan grabbed his phone. “I’ll start the ball rolling, checking passenger lists. It might at least tell us if he’s still in the country.”

“And how long he’s been here.” Ari was on her feet, pacing. “I don’t think he’s left. Wouldn’t he want to watch me suffer?” She heard the sharpness in her voice and stopped to rub the tightness in her temples. “Sorry. I’m making it personal again. I’ve got too damned much on my mind.” She told him about Daron’s call, the contracts on their lives, the rumored visit by the O-Seven.

“No wonder you’re tense. But isn’t Gerhard on the O-Seven’s payroll? If they’re coming, why send him?”

“Maybe they didn’t. I think he’s here on his own…looking for revenge.” She frowned. “But why didn’t he kill me instead of binding my powers? He’s like a cat playing with a mouse.” She shook her head and paused in her pacing. “Except this mouse doesn’t have a safe hole. I can’t hide, so I have to find a way to fight or outsmart him. While you start those checks, I’m going home to meet Andreas. He’ll be up soon, and we can visit Zylla. I’m counting on her to tell us about this book of demon lore.”

* * *

Zylla scrunched her eyes as if Ari’s question had brought her pain. “It is an evil book. Taken from our safekeeping long ago. Why would you ask me about that wretched thing?”

“We don’t mean to distress you.” Andreas hastened to soothe her. “But we suspect the Maleficus is being used against us by a powerful warlock. We only want to know how to defeat him.”

“I know, I know. I loathe that thing, but never mind.” Zylla waved her objections away. “Please sit, and tell me everything that has occurred. Mangi will pour the tea.”

The teenage werejavelina bobbed his hog-like head. “It will be my pleasure.”

Despite the seriousness of their errand, Ari threw him a smile. Zylla had taken Mangi in when a renegade band of werejavelinas had infected and abandoned him. Most javeys were vicious, uncouth creatures, and without Zylla the community would have thrown him out. His good manners were all Zylla’s doing.

Ari thanked him when he served her. “You make a great butler.”

Mangi snorted, ruining his dignified image. “Don’t push it,” he growled, but he winked as he said it.

“In another hundred years, he might be sufficient.” Zylla’s tone was indulgent. “Now, you were saying…”

Ari settled cross-legged on the cave floor and explained how her fire magic had been bound, their belief that Gerhard had used the ancient book of demon lore, and her hopes of finding a counterspell. “I’ve been told I must have the exact words of the binding spell in order to undo it.”

Zylla bent her head in agreement. “That is what I was taught. Even then, casting a counterspell will be difficult. This is the darkest, vilest of devil magic. It requires a blood sacrifice and unusual power. More than you or your coven possess.”

“I know.” Ari dropped her gaze and spoke softly. “Even before Gerhard came, my magic wasn’t working.”

“What do you mean?” Zylla’s gaze sharpened.

“It didn’t warn me about the warriors until it was too late, and not a twinge about the warlock. I’ve always felt some sense of danger. Often days or weeks before something happened.”

“You should have mentioned this lapse to me before. It changes everything.”

Ari’s face pinched with distress. She’d known it. Her magic had gone sour.

Scowling, the vampiress compressed her thin lips and continued. “It is Andreas. He is interfering with your magic.”

“That can’t be true,” she blurted. “Everything’s been fine until now.”

Zylla raised an admonishing hand. “His newly awakened magic is like a wild thing. It must be tamed, brought under control.”

He swore under his breath, reaching out to place a hand on Ari’s arm. She covered it with her own. Her feelings were mixed. Relief, yet frustration with an impossible situation. “Then what do we do?”

Zylla shrugged. “Work together, as soon as he gains control.”

“But you said I could channel for both—”

“I was wrong.” Zylla interrupted her and gave Andreas a pointed look. “You must master the warlock magic, make it yours, or you will continue to weaken Ari’s power.”

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration covering him like a second skin. “I have tried. Damnation, I cannot believe this is happening. I don’t know what more to do.”

“Practice your skills, but most important, find your family heirlooms.”

His sigh was heartfelt. “How? We have searched. You might as well tell me we need a cup of moon dust. It would be easier.”

“Nevertheless, it must be done.” Her gaze moved to Ari. “To unbind your fire, you will need the spell from that horrible book. Have you found it?”

“Our magic lab is searching. I skimmed through a partial translation, but didn’t find anything that would apply.” Ari hesitated. “A couple of things I don’t understand. Sophie said the conjurer must have demon blood. Does that mean he must have demon blood in his veins, or is demon blood some kind of ingredient in the spell?”

“The demon blood is used in the ritual. It has nothing to do with the sorcerer’s bloodlines. I have a vial myself, when you need it.” Zylla almost smiled. “That wasn’t hard. What else troubles you?”

Ari paused, almost afraid to jinx the situation by asking. “I’m not complaining, but why aren’t my other magic abilities bound by Gerhard’s spell?”

Zylla lips widened in a smile this time. “You are making me look very wise with these easy questions. He didn’t bind them all because he couldn’t. So he targeted the one you depend on.”

Ari started to interrupt.

“Let me explain,” Zylla went on. “Binding spells are very complex. Different spells are required for each of the four elements—fire, wind, earth, and water. Even after centuries, the Witches’ League and the Magic Councils have been unable to blend them into one spell. The Maleficus has four separate binding spells, and Gerhard chose the one that would make you the most vulnerable.”

Ari hated to ask, but she needed to know. “Did you see this coming?”

“No, child. I have told you my visions are imperfect. I see some things but not all, and often they are only possibilities. I had warned you that someone would change the course of your lives. Perhaps it was Gerhard, perhaps not, but I see more trouble in your future.” She included Andreas again. “Your magic, Andreas, is part of one possible solution that could influence the fates in your favor.”

He jumped on her words. “Does that mean there are other solutions?”

Zylla spread her hands wide. “There are always possibilities.”

Andreas frowned. “Your words are too vague.”

“Patience, young prince. The fates will reveal all in time.”

His frown deepened. He didn’t believe the fates decided everything.

Ari intervened. “Can you tell us more about the Maleficus? Where did it come from? How did the vampires get it? And why haven’t they used it before now?”

Zylla’s laugh was the brittle cackle of an old woman. “So many questions, but I will answer what I can. It was believed to have been written in Hell, stolen and brought to earth by a full-blooded demon. In 1039 during the witch-vampire wars, it came briefly into the hands of the witches. Then the O-Seven stole it from us and have kept it hidden away.” She described its terrible powers inflicting pain and death, and told of the human sacrifice that many spells required. “The vampires have not used the book, because they can’t. They can twist your mind every which way, but they cannot conjure spells.” Her lips twisted in distaste. “They were forced to wait until a witch came along who was corrupt enough to join their cause.”

“You mean Gerhard.”

“Yes.”

“I wish we had killed him,” Ari muttered.

“All happens as it should.” Zylla’s tone was mild, matter-of-fact. “To rail against fate is a waste of time.”

“Doesn’t change my wishing it,” Ari grumbled.

Andreas’s laugh held a sharp edge. “Nor mine.” He turned to the vampiress. “I hope you’ll excuse our poorly concealed frustration. Gerhard is only the beginning of our trials.”

When he told Zylla about the impending visit from the O-Seven, she acted more thoughtful than alarmed. “So this may be one source of the danger I have seen. Interesting that it is Bastian who comes, don’t you think?” Her brows dipped, as if she was examining some inner thought. “I am positive that has great meaning, but I do not know what.”

* * *

“Interesting visit but not much help.” Andreas sidestepped a branch brought down by the heavy snow that had fallen over the last hour. There was almost no traffic and certainly no one else walking the streets of Olde Town. “I had hoped for more.”

“At least she clarified the bit about the demon blood and explained why my other powers were untouched.”

“Does that help us?”

“Well, I’m going to be super careful from now on. Just in case Gerhard learns another spell and comes back to finish the job.”

Andreas stopped and grabbed her arm. “You think he might do that?”

“How would I know? He’s pissed off. He might do anything.”

Andreas put his arm around her shoulders. “We should get you someplace safe.”

“And where would that be?” They walked in silence as the snow covered their tracks. She leaned against him. “I wouldn’t leave Riverdale without you.”

He didn’t argue, but she noticed he didn’t agree either. Ari sighed, hoping he wouldn’t make it a big issue. She wasn’t leaving. They’d have to come up with a solution…together.

The witches in Germany had taught her new skills in the other elements, and her earth magic had developed quickly. She could build on that. The question was, would it be in time?

Was Gerhard lurking out there in the dark? Were new contract killers already in Riverdale? Were the O-Seven representatives on the way? Enemies appeared to be gathering.

Fear stabbed at her heart, and she increased her pace. Andreas automatically matched her stride. When they reached the club, she kissed him goodbye. He held her just a little tighter than usual. “I should come with you.”

She shook her head. “I need some space.”

Silence. Then, “OK. Take care.” His voice was husky, but that was all he said.

“You too.” She walked briskly toward the door, pulled out her cell, and called Ryan. “Got plans this evening?”

“Nothing I can’t change. What’s up?”

“My Walther and I need an outing at the shooting range, and I’m picking up a second pistol on the way.”

“Double draw, huh? I’ll meet you in forty-five minutes.”

It didn’t take her long to choose a second handgun. She loved her Walther PPS and selected another of the same brand. She insisted on holding several until one felt just right in her hand. Superstitious? Maybe. But guns had personalities too. She wanted one that worked with her, not just for her. Since she already owned a shoulder holster, she found a rig that fit snug at the small of her back. It was hard to decide between it and the pocket holster, so she bought both. A second magazine and four boxes of silver bullets later, she walked out the door feeling more prepared than she had before.

The snow had finally stopped, and she made decent time to the firing range. She’d called Ryan for two reasons: she hadn’t been to the police range before and he could get her in without a fuss, but more importantly, Ryan was a crack shot. She had plenty of experience with guns, but these were new, and drawing from a holster wasn’t easy. She could use a few pointers.

They practiced for more than two hours. The back draw was awkward at first. It became quicker over time, but not exactly what she wanted. Ryan frowned on back holsters in general.

“They’re unwieldy and dangerous. In close combat it’s too easy for your opponent to grab it.” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t use one.”

That was enough for Ari. She put the back holster aside and concentrated on faster draws from shoulder and pocket. Under the right circumstances, she might tuck the pistol into her back waistband without a holster.

The new Walther proved to be a good purchase. After three sets of eight targets she hit the bull’s-eye almost as often as Ryan. By set five, she didn’t miss. Her prior years of training and practice paid off. Then they switched to moving targets and the competition began.

Ari clenched her teeth in determination. Ryan had bet her four beers he could take out more bad guys than she could. Sounded easy, except you also had to avoid hitting the innocent citizen silhouettes that kept popping up. So far neither had made a mistake, although she’d come close to shooting a shopkeeper.

Ryan dropped his shooting hand and patted his pocket, then stepped back from the firing line and pulled out his cell phone. Ari finished the round before joining him and taking off her earmuffs.

“Work?” she asked.

He put his hand over the phone. “It’s the airport. They think they found Gerhard on the passenger lists.”

“Finally, a break. Was he coming or going?”

“Coming. From New York to Chicago to Riverdale. One-way.”

“Under his own name?” She was incredulous.

“No, he made a token attempt to avoid discovery. Listed himself as Heinrich Worman. But the description fits, and they’ve spotted the guy on the airport cameras, so you could take a look.”

“Then let’s go.”

The Riverdale Airport was small by big city standards but handled a steady traffic. Its carpeted floors were a bluish-gray, the walls a paler, nearly white version of the same shade. Modern, clean, well-lighted. Functional. But it wasn’t often asked to help with police investigations into suspicious passengers. The security officer who met them at the entrance was a young sandy-haired man who’d spent hours going through the passenger lists and scanning film.

He flashed an eager grin and shook hands with Ryan. “Glad to help, Lt. Foster.” He nodded toward Ari. “Ma’am.”

“Ari Calin,” she said. “Guardian for the Magic Council.”

“Officer Thomas McCade,” he responded. “Whatever’s going on must be big. I’ve never met anyone from the Magic Council before.”

“We appreciate your help, Tom.” Ryan smoothly took command. “Can you show us the tape?”

His eager gaze moved to Ryan, then back to Ari. “Sure can. Right this way.”

He took them up the escalators and down the hall to a small office. The film was already on his computer screen. “I think the guy you’re looking for came in three days ago.”

Ryan and Ari leaned forward to study the screen, and they watched passengers enter the airport from a Chicago flight. “There.” Ari pointed to a blond man with a dark blue carryon bag. “That’s him.” She watched as Gerhard strolled down the concourse.

He stopped to look directly at the camera and smiled.

Ari made a rude noise in her throat. “Arrogant jerk.” She straightened. “He knew we’d check, and he doesn’t care if we know he’s here.” She gestured toward the screen. “That’s incoming. Has he purchased a return ticket yet?”

“Not that I can find.”

Ari nodded at the confirmation. He was still here. What was he planning next? Possibilities began to run through her head. She grabbed Ryan’s arm. “We should go.”

“OK.” He frowned, but turned to Tom and handed him his card. “Great work. This man’s real name is Gerhard Kirsch. If you see him again, call me, day or night. Do not attempt to apprehend him, but don’t let him leave. Stall the plane if you have to.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll do that.”

Ari pulled on Ryan’s arm again, then left him and walked down the hall. She whipped out her cell phone and called Claris. It rang five times before her friend answered.

“Are you OK?” Ari demanded.

“Of course. Is something wrong?”

“I want you to leave there right now.”

“It’s after ten o’clock at night. What’s happened, Ari? You’re scaring me.”

Ari took a deep breath. “Gerhard Kirsch is in town.” She heard Claris’s gasp, but she didn’t stop. “He may go after my friends, and he probably knows who you are. I want you someplace safe. Go—”

Ryan came up beside her. “To my office. Tell her to go to the police station.”

“Did you hear that?” she asked Claris. “Ryan says to go to his office.”

“Now?”

“Now. We’ll meet you there in a few minutes.” She clicked off.

They ran toward the airport entrance, by-passed the revolving doors in favor of the crash bar entrance, and jumped into Ryan’s cruiser doubled-parked at the curb. He revved the engine, switched on his flashers, and drove as fast as the icy roads would allow.

Ari spotted Claris climbing the front steps of the station and let out a pent-up breath. Before Ryan had turned off the engine, she bounded out of the car and into the building. Claris was standing at the information desk. Ari slowed to a walk now that she had her friend in sight. Ryan came in behind her, and they hustled Claris to his office.

Ari perched on the corner of Ryan’s desk. Claris sat in a wooden visitor’s chair, and Ryan stood frowning at them both. Ari told her everything that had been happening.

Claris’s eyes grew wide. “You mean Brando’s murderer has been in Riverdale for three days? Are you guys going to kill him this time?”

Ryan frowned. “You know it’s not that simple. There are—”

“Yes,” Ari said. She met Claris’s direct gaze. “I promise.”

Ryan sighed heavily.

Ari ignored him. “But we have to keep you away from him. Gerhard is angry, and he wants to hurt me. I’m afraid he’ll target my friends, which means you’re not safe.”

“I get that.” Claris wet her dry lips. “But how can you fight him without your witch fire?”

“He’s mortal. That makes him vulnerable to regular weapons, like guns and knives. But before I take him on, I have to know you’re safe.”

“Well, I can’t go to my parents. That wouldn’t work. I doubt if they’re even in town. Rarely are.”

“He’d look for you there anyway.” Ari wrinkled her brow. “You can’t stay at our house, Gerhard is sure to go there. I don’t want you in the middle of the fighting again. Perhaps Steffan knows someone. It’d only be a week or so. Until we have the situation under control.”

“Among the werewolves? I don’t know…” Claris sounded doubtful.

“I have an idea,” Ryan said. “She can stay with my mom.”

“Oh, I can’t bother her.”

“You won’t be a bother. She’s used to a big family and likes having guests. She’d love to have you. And you’ve met her.”

“It’s the perfect solution,” Ari coaxed. “Gerhard wouldn’t expect to find you there, and you’d be comfortable surrounded by a normal human family.”

“Well, I don’t know how normal they are,” Ryan said with a laugh, “but they are human, except for my sister-in-law, Sira, who’s an elf. But I think you’ve met her too.”

“OK, if you’re really sure she won’t mind.”

Ari gave Claris a reassuring nod. She’d met Mary Foster several times—the most motherly person Ari knew. “So let’s go to your place and pick up whatever you need.” She urged Claris to her feet. “Come on. The sooner you’re safe, the sooner I can hunt Gerhard.”

“You won’t go after him alone, I hope.” Claris’s expression gave away the depth of her concern.

Ryan lifted a brow. “Not as long as I’m her partner.”

* * *

A half hour later, Claris and her white Siamese, Hernando, were settled in with Ryan’s mother.

“Now that that’s taken care of, what’s next?” Ryan asked. “Do you need to do some witchy thing to find him?”

“You mean scrying?” She cocked her head, considering the idea. “I could try, but if he’s really using the knowledge and power in the Maleficus, he’d easily make himself invisible to a probe. But I don’t think we’ll have to wait long for him to turn up. If we don’t find him soon, he’s going to find us.” She lapsed into silence until they reached the PD.

They took the elevator to his office on the third floor, and Ari slumped into a chair while he sorted through the messages on his desk. She noted the worry lines, the darkness under his eyes.

“You should go home and get some sleep,” she said. “But watch your back. He might come after you too.”

“Yeah, that occurred to me.” Ryan looked up. “I told my mom I wouldn’t be around for two or three days. If Gerhard’s watching us, I don’t want to lead him there.”

Ari closed her eyes for a moment. She hated that her friends were in this position. Too restless to sit still, she stood and went to the window. “Andreas suggested I leave town for a while. It wouldn’t be a bad plan if I could be sure Gerhard would follow me.”

Ryan slammed his hand on the desk. “OK, I’ve heard enough. Andreas certainly wasn’t suggesting you set yourself up as bait. That isn’t the answer. Not this time. You don’t have your fire magic to defend yourself. We need to go after him together, take him down before he can do more damage.”

She’d spun around when he’d hit the desk. “Ryan, I wasn’t trying to be some kind of hero, just practical.” Her cell phone rang, and she answered it, still focused on Ryan. “Hey, Samuel. What? Anyone hurt? I’ll be right there.”

She disconnected and headed for the door. “Gerhard’s back in action. There’s been an explosion at our house.”

CHAPTER FOUR

A smoky black haze hung over the front entrance of the Victorian mansion. The yard lights were on, highlighting the eerie scene. The door, a metal facsimile of its 1800s counterpart, had been ripped from its frame, the siding charred. The snow-covered lawn was dotted with wood debris and shards of glass, including colorful sections of the stained glass window that had been over the door. Samuel and three weretigers armed with assault rifles stood in a semi-circle guarding the entrance. The wrought iron gate, usually left on automatic, was currently guarded by another weretiger. He glanced at Ari and waved them through.

She twisted in her seat and watched a fire truck race up the street. It came to a halt and the gate guard went out to talk to them. “Who called them? I doubt if our people did.”

“Probably a neighbor. There’s a lot of smoke, but I don’t see any flames. The fire must be out.” Ryan stopped his police cruiser well clear of the debris field. Samuel came over to meet them.

Ari sniffed the air. Sulfur. Not gunpowder, magic. “How’d the warlock get this close?”

“You’re sure this was him?” Ryan asked.

“Oh, yeah. Remember the magic spell that exploded on Barron’s boat a year or two ago? This was similar.” She did a quick inspection of the area and frowned. “But less damaging. He’s screwing around with us.” She turned back to Samuel. “Describe what happened.”

“The house wards went off, then the door bell. I checked the front surveillance camera but all I saw was a sack on the doorstep. Whoever dropped it off was already gone. I used the side door to go around the house, but before I got there, the sack exploded.”

“He teleported in and out.”

“If he can go anywhere he wants, why not drop it inside the house?” Ryan asked.

“The wards. He couldn’t get past them.” Ari’s smile was grim. “At least that’s something.”

Andreas stepped through the demolished front door and jumped across the debris. “I presume this is the work of our warlock.”

“I’m afraid so. Thank the Goddess no one was hurt, but the house…”

“It can be fixed.” He reached out and linked his fingers with hers. “The important thing is that everyone is fine. But we need to do something about Gerhard. He may kill the next time.” At the sound of voices coming from the front gate, he turned his head. Two firemen were walking toward him. He squeezed her hand and let go. “I will deal with the fire department.”

Ryan frowned as Andreas walked away. “He doesn’t seem very upset, not like he was when the club was torched by that demon a while back.”

Ari sighed, also watching Andreas. “We’ve been through a lot since then. Crisis has become a way of life.” Was this her fault? Why did she have this guilty knot in her gut? Maybe she should have killed Gerhard in Germany, but was there no mercy left in this world?

She waved an encompassing hand at the house and yard. “This is all pretty minor in comparison to what we’ve seen the last year or two.” She heard Andreas’s phone ring, then hers rang a minute later. She snatched it. Gabriel.

“Dammit! Injuries?” She listened a moment, then clicked off and glared at Ryan. “Gerhard dropped off a present at the vampire compound too.”

“Anyone dead?”

She shook her head. “The vamp who answered the door was injured, but he’ll recover.

“But Gerhard didn’t get in?”

“I guess not.”

Andreas walked up and answered Ryan’s question. “The magical wards held firm. Gerhard was locked out.”

“Isn’t that kind of odd?” Ryan looked back and forth between them. “I’m not doubting Ari’s magic, but I thought he was supposed to be so all-powerful now.”

“An interesting observation.” Andreas turned to Ari. “How skilled was Gerhard before he got his hands on this book of demon lore?”

She pressed her lips together grimly. “Not very. Other than his witch fire, he was average or less. He acted as if other witchcraft was beneath him. With the help of the Maleficus, he’s wielding tremendous power, but without a lot of expertise. His ordinary stuff should still be ordinary.” She looked at Andreas. “I need to think about it, but I just might have an idea.”

“What kind of idea?” Ryan insisted.

“One that calls for witchcraft. I’ll do some research first to see if it’s possible.”

“Then I’m calling it a night.” Ryan covered a yawn. “Eight o’clock in the morning is going to seem awfully early. There’ll be a mound of paperwork. See you later.” He waved and started toward his cruiser.

“Ryan.”

He looked back.

“Be careful.”

He waved again, climbed into his car, and drove away.

Andreas’s arm slipped around her waist. “Want to share your idea with me?”

“It’s not so much a solid idea as a direction for research. If I can’t get my own powers back right away, I might be able to return the favor by limiting his in some way. I’ll know more tomorrow after I’ve been to the lab.”

He glanced at the debris. “In the meantime, I will start the cleanup here, then head for the compound.”

“What about the club? I’ve warded it too, but is there more we can do to protect it?”

“I called them about the explosives, and we’ve moved snipers into the area to secure the perimeter.” He shrugged. “It is hard to guard against someone who can teleport.”

They stepped through what was left of the mansion’s front door.

“What a mess.” She leaned over and picked up a couple of small boards.

“Leave it.” Andreas took them from her and tossed them to one side. “I have a crew on the way.”

She wiped her hands on her jeans. “Then I’m going to bed before I fall over.” She pulled his head down and kissed him. “Watch your back. I love you.”

She met his eyes, making sure her feelings showed. If the last months had taught her anything positive, it was never to put off telling someone you love them.

* * *

“Cara mia, wake up. I must talk with you.”

Andreas’s voice brought her upright in bed. “What? Oh, you’re back.” She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and peered at him. He was splattered with blood.

A small wounded-animal sound slipped from her throat, and she sprang out of bed. “What happened?” She ran her hands over his arms. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” He caught her hands. “Careful. You’ll get all bloody. I wouldn’t have woken you like this, but it’s almost dawn, and I did not want anyone else to tell you about the attack.”

“What attack?” She pulled her hands free and threw her arms around him, resting her head against his chest. “I don’t care about the mess.”

He kissed the top of her hair, wrapped his arms around her, and sighed. “Bounty hunters. Three Asian assassins with silver throwing knives. I was on the way home from the compound when I heard the first blade slice through the air.”

She hugged him tightly, unable to speak past the lump in her throat.

“From now on, we must keep bodyguards with us. That particularly means you, Arianna. My body can recover from such an attack, but if it had been you…”

“As long as the bodyguard is Lilith.”

“And Russell.” His voice was rough.

“OK.” Her own voice was shaky as she pushed away enough to study his face. “Who will be with you?”

“A couple of the tigers, perhaps Oliver at night.”

She stepped back, recovering her composure. “I’ll arrange it while you’re asleep. Samuel and I will have the weretigers outside your bedroom by three o’clock.”

“I love a masterful woman. I would show you just how much, but I barely have time to jump in the shower and still beat the sun.” He leaned down and kissed her mouth. “Keep yourself safe, my love.”

Ari closed her eyes, emotions welling again. Apparently she wasn’t the only one worried that each parting could be their last.

* * *

Once Andreas was in the shower, Ari ran down the hall to the Chantilly Suite and used her own shower. All hope of sleep was gone. Gerhard, the assassins. She had to figure out how to head off this trouble. It wasn’t just about Andreas and her. Their friends and all of Riverdale were at risk with killers hanging around the city.

She toweled off, dressed and headed for the coffee pot in the kitchen. Lilith, a werelion on Andreas’s security staff, sat at the kitchen table. Her mate leaned against the counter.

Ari came to a halt in the doorway. “He called you before he told me.”

“Yep. Your safety comes first with him.” Russell grabbed another cup, filled it, and held it out to her. “Get used to it. He won’t change.”

She flashed him a wry smile. “After two hundred years, I suppose he is rather set in his ways. But thanks for being here. Who’s watching the club?”

“Off duty shifters from the compound’s security staff. What’s on our agenda?” Russell asked.

“Talking with Samuel to arrange bodyguards for Andreas. I want them outside his room and with him 24/7 from now on.”

“I can pick out some names for you,” Lilith said. “After being in charge of the household last fall while Samuel was gone, I know the weretigers pretty well. What else?”

Ari sipped her coffee and sat down. “The lab. I have research to do. And then there’s Ryan.” She checked the clock on the wall. Six-thirty. “I won’t call him yet. It was a late night for him too.”

Lilith pushed away from the table. “I’ll find Samuel and catch up with you at the lab. Russell?” She gave her husband a stern look. “Stick with her. Don’t let her convince you she can run just this one errand without you. She’s sneaky that way.” Lilith flashed a smug grin and left.

Ari made a face, and Russell shrugged. “She’s worried about you.”

“She may have reason this time,” Ari admitted. “But I’m more worried about Andreas. He seems to think he’s bulletproof.”

“Yeah, but you both tend to think that way.” Russell pulled up a chair and sat across from her. “Is there a way to call off the bounty hunters?”

She lifted a hand, palm up. “Put a bounty on them?”

Russell frowned. “Are you serious?”

“No. Even Andreas doesn’t have enough money to cover all of them. Besides, the elders would probably outbid him.” She rested her elbow on the table and propped up her chin. “I can’t think of a way to stop them from coming, so we’ll just have to pick them off one by one. We need more eyes and ears, but going public could cause a lot of fear in the human community.”

“Maybe you could talk with your friend at the Clarion. He’s been discreet in the past, hasn’t he? I’m sure he could make up something that would put people on alert without starting a riot.”

“Eddie’s good at making things up.” Despite the distrust that often existed between law enforcement and the press, the redheaded reporter had done her a favor or two, and she’d repaid him with exclusive stories when she could. “It might be worth a try. In the meantime, we’ll need to monitor local airports and other transportation facilities for suspicious characters.”

“What about international flights?”

“I know just the guy that might help.” She set her coffee down and stood. “I’ll be right back.”

She left Russell finishing his coffee and took the stairs two at a time. When she threw open her bedroom door, she startled the cats. Bella blinked at her from her windowsill bed; Dona strolled over to wind around her legs.

“Sorry, girl. No time now.” She sat down at the white Queen Anne desk that Andreas had chosen to match the rest of her furniture and dug in the top drawer until she found a small business card: Horatio Jones, Retired. She chuckled. Typically vague. Un-retired from the spy business when she’d met him during a previous case. He’d been working for Homeland Security, but he was a former CIA agent with a pronounced British accent and impeccable manners. He might have all kinds of strings he could pull. She grabbed the card, stopped to give each feline a pat on the head, and dashed back downstairs.

“I’m ready to go now,” she announced, entering the kitchen. “I can make the necessary calls from the lab.”

* * *

The Otherworld Forensics and Research Laboratory hummed with activity even at 7:30 in the morning. Ari made her way between the rows of ceramic-topped tables filled with beakers and other scientific paraphernalia. Russell followed, acting bored, but his eyes scanned the room.

Ari waved at Cillian, resplendent today in pink and white, but stopped at a row of cauldrons. An old wizard tended half a dozen simmering pots, stirring occasionally and adding ingredients by some criteria known only to him. Ari watched for a minute but didn’t see him consult a checklist or recipe.

“Excuse me. Is there someone who can help me with counterspells or anything that dilutes magical power?”

The wizard didn’t vary from his task or even look at her. “Henry, red goatee, row three.”

Henry with the red goatee was easy to spot. The short, chubby wood nymph stood on a box in row three and had more hair in his slender beard than on his shiny head. The box enabled him to reach a large book open on the table. He whistled cheerfully as he read.

“You must be Henry.”

“That’s true.” He marked his place and peered at her, his eyes going round with surprise. “What would the guardian be wanting with me?”

She couldn’t help but smile. “I need your help. I have a dangerous warlock on the loose.”

“A single warlock? That doesn’t sound like much of a challenge.”

Ari cocked her head at him. “He’s using black magic and a book of demon lore called the Maleficus.”

Henry’s grin faded. “Oh my.”

“He’s already set three buildings on fire, bound my fire magic, and is teleporting around town blowing things up.”

Henry paled. “Holy Mother Earth. What can I do?”

“Help me figure out how to stop him.”

The wood nymph rested a finger against his chin, then jumped down from his box. “Come with me. I have a few ideas.”

He headed toward the library. When the librarian appeared, Henry rattled off a list of books he wanted, then climbed into a chair at a long table.

Ari sent Russell to wait by the door for Lilith. The lioness had sent a text message with her list of potential guards for Andreas; Ari had thumbed in OK and sent it back. Lilith should arrive soon. Besides, Russell’s hovering was making her uncomfortable, and he couldn’t add anything to their current activities. She wasn’t likely to be attacked by one of the lab techs.

“I’m no good at research,” he admitted, “but I’ll make sure you aren’t interrupted. I wouldn’t put it past Gerhard to try to blow up the lab.”

“I hadn’t even thought of that. If you see him, don’t hesitate to shoot. No one will care if he’s not around to answer questions.”

Russell gave a grim nod and strode purposefully toward the entrance.

She joined Henry at the table. He already had his head buried in a book. “Should I be searching for something specific?”

“Spells that sap your magical strength. They’re of short duration, but might help, especially if you surprise him. If you carried a few in your pocket, you could use them every time he appeared—until he found the correct counterspell.” He gave her a half grin. “We’ll make it hard to counter by picking an obscure spell or adding an ingredient he wouldn’t expect.”

“What keywords do I look for in the books?”

“Weakening, diluting, impairing. Anything similar.”

“What about a dispersal spell?”

Henry scrunched his face in thought. “Not a bad idea. They’re different than what I had in mind. It would break his spells into pieces, making them much harder to maintain. Along those same lines, we might consider fluxors.” He pulled on his goatee. “Yes, fluctuations in power might cause his spells to crash, and the fluxors are more rare.” Henry rubbed his hands together. “This is an intriguing challenge.”

A deadly challenge. “It sounds like we have a lot of research ahead, and I have a few calls to make. I’ll do those first, then get started.” She stood and walked across the room so her conversations wouldn’t disturb his reading. She needn’t have bothered. Henry didn’t take his nose out of the book.

Ari dialed Ryan and told him about the early morning attack on Andreas and the need for someone to watch transportation for likely bounty hunters.

“Tom’s keeping an eye on the city airport,” Ryan told her, “but we’ll alert the private air strips, trains, bus depots and car rentals. I wouldn’t hold out much hope. We’ll get some false leads. A lot of people appear suspicious who aren’t.”

“I know, and dangerous characters can look like upstanding citizens. But some places hire off duty cops or trained security. They’re better at spotting trouble.”

“Anything else?”

Ari sighed. “I’ve got Lilith and Russell as body guards. You know how much I love that. On the upside, I’ve found someone at the magic lab to help me with research, and he has a good theory for dealing with Gerhard. I’m also going to call Horatio Jones.”

“The CIA guy? Why?”

“Maybe he can get someone to check for known hit men on international flights coming to Riverdale.”

“Can’t hurt. We’re combing the hotels and motels in case Gerhard rented a room somewhere. From what you’ve said about him, I can’t imagine he’s hanging out in a cave or tent without modern conveniences.”

She gave a short laugh. “True enough. But he could be anywhere within a hundred miles or so, depending how far he can teleport.”

“We’re putting out a lot of feelers, Ari. We can’t cover everything, but I believe we’ll eventually get a tip. Call it cop instinct, but I feel we’re close to something.”

“Yeah. I just hope it’s something good.”

She hung up and pulled Horatio Jones’s card out of her pocket. She reached an answering service and left a message, then made her way back to Henry, who was still engrossed in his reading.

Ari settled in her chair, picked up the first book, and glanced toward the front entrance to see Lilith walking in the door. The lioness waved and gave her the OK sign, letting her know that Andreas’s bodyguards were in place. Ari flipped the book open and scanned through the list of spells.

By the end of the morning, Henry had piles of books stacked around him with small scraps of paper marking passages to be reviewed or copied. Ari had two pages of notes but nothing that struck her as the answer. At noon, Henry disappeared into the back of the building with a brief “See you later.”

Ari invited Cillian to join them for sandwiches at the Daily Diner. The unpretentious eatery with its vinyl floors, square tables and sturdy booths was popular with the take-out crowd. Ari and her companions didn’t have to wait long before a booth opened up. Four barbecue sandwiches and a pot of coffee took care of their table.

“So tell me what you’ve been doing all morning,” Cillian asked, dipping a fry into a pile of ketchup.

Ari explained the kind of spells they were researching. “Henry seems to be doing OK. He doesn’t talk much, but he started whistling half an hour ago. I hope that’s a positive sign. Otherwise it’s just annoying, and the librarian has already frowned at us several times.” She shoved her half-eaten sandwich aside and sipped on her coffee.

“Henry’s a terrific researcher,” Cillian said. “I’m sure he’ll find something.”

Ari shrugged and looked at Russell. “Who were the men you were talking with just before we left the lab?”

“Security. Someone at the Magic Council read your reports and assigned additional guards to the lab.”

“I’m glad to know someone reads them, and that the council took action. Who knows what Gerhard will do next.” Ari’s phone rang. “Excuse me.” She glanced at the ID. “Hi, Ryan.”

“Can you shake free long enough for a trip to the airport? Tom has a couple of suspicious passengers on an incoming flight. One of them on an old airport watch list.”

“A terrorist watch list?”

“That’s what he said. It’s outdated, so it may be nothing. Where are you? I’ll pick you up, and we’ll check it out.”

“We’re at the diner but almost finished.”

“I’ll be out front in ten minutes. I’ve got the unmarked car, and I’ll clear the back seat for your bodyguards.” He chuckled as he hung up.

Ari said good-bye to Cillian, who promised to tell Henry where she’d gone, and the rest of them were waiting on the curb when Ryan arrived. Another twenty minutes, and Ari, Ryan, and the werelions were talking with Tom at the airport.

“The suspects are on a flight from Atlanta that lands in fifteen minutes.” He led them across the terminal toward the arrival gates.

Passengers watched and whispered as they passed. Ari struggled not to grin. They weren’t exactly inconspicuous. Tom was wearing a security uniform, and Lilith and Russell’s firearms were visible. If someone looked closely, they’d probably spot her own shoulder holster. And Ryan had cop written all over him.

“I followed up with the FBI as you asked,” Tom said to Ryan. “The most common reason for removing names from the watch list is mistaken identity or lack of ongoing contact with terrorist groups.”

“So this guy’s been downgraded to an everyday variety of killer, huh?” Ryan grumbled with typical cop sarcasm.

“Apparently, sir.” Tom gave no indication he recognized the irony. “I thought we’d wait here.” He stopped well short of gate 7C. “We radioed the plane. The flight attendant will point out the suspect and his companion as they come through the gate.” He gestured toward the arrival doors. “They’ll come right by us, and you can take them into custody then. It should cause less fuss.”

Within five minutes the arrival gate opened and a flight attendant stepped out. She spotted Tom when he raised a hand, and she nodded once. Then the passengers began to come through the door. The first dozen appeared to be ordinary tourists. The next two men looked like muscle for the mafia, big, burly, tough, but the flight attendant paid no attention to them. A minute later, she pointed her chin at a pair walking past her.

Ari frowned in surprise. The suspect looked about twenty-two, his female companion a little older. Clean-cut collegiate types. Neither seemed the kind to carry or use a weapon.

Ryan pulled the couple aside. They were hustled into the airport security office and searched.

“What is it you think we’ve done?” the man protested. “I don’t have any liquids or sharp objects.” His companion was so cowed she hadn’t said a word, except murmuring his name a couple of times, accompanied by frantic eye movements.

“It says here that you’re thirty-three. Is that correct?” Ryan examined the suspect’s driver’s license for tampering.

“Yeah, I had a beard for a while. I guess I shouldn’t have shaved it off. It makes me look older.”

He could still pass for a college kid: 5 ft 7 inches, 145 pounds, slender frame. His girlfriend was even more petite.

“Did you know you’re on a watch list?” Ryan asked. He dropped the ID on Tom’s desk, the only furniture in the room except for two straight-backed chairs.

The guy frowned. “That was years ago. Ten or twelve at least.”

“So you knew you were on the list? What did you do to get there?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Give me the short version.”

He gave them a rueful look. “I was in college at the time, and well, kinda anti-establishment, I guess. We had this computer club, and we, uh, tried to hack into the Pentagon.”

Ari refrained from rolling her eyes.

Ryan lifted a brow “And got caught. What happened after that?”

“FBI was all over us. Five years’ probation and the watch list. I couldn’t even get on an airplane in those days.” He sighed. “I thought that was finally behind me.”

Computer hackers, not terrorists or killers. But what about the two Mafia types she saw?

She closed her eyes briefly, then walked into the concourse, leaving Ryan to finish up with the young couple. If she was going to be suspicious of every tough-looking person she saw, she’d go crazy.

Russell and Lilith followed her out, and the lioness grabbed her arm. “You’re frowning. Did you see or sense something back there?”

Ari shook off her funk. “No. I’m just relieved it was a false alarm this time.”

Ryan, Tom, and the former suspects exited the security room. As Ryan watched the young couple hurry away, he thanked Tom for being so alert. “I’d rather question a dozen innocent people than let the wrong ones sneak past us. Good work.”

The young officer assured Ryan he’d call if anything else turned up.

Ryan dropped them back at the lab. Before Ari closed the door, he stopped her. “If you finish before five, swing by the station. I should have reports from our patrol officers by then.”

“OK, but don’t count on it. We have a lot of books to go through.”

“Better you than me.”

But when Ari got to the library section, Henry wasn’t there, and most of the books they’d been using were gone.

She located him back on row three, whistling to himself as he mixed various ingredients in a rack of test tubes. He was reading from a photocopied page that appeared to be a checklist with hand-jotted notes along the edges.

“Hi, Henry. Sorry I was gone so long. What are you mixing?”

“A spell for you, of course.” He smoothed his goatee. “I think I have the gist of it. I’m just working out the precise ingredients and words.”

“What kind of spell?”

“A modified fluxor.” He gave her a look of approval. “You marked a wonderful passage in that last book. It fit in perfectly with what I had found.” He waved a hand dismissing her. “I work better on my own. With any luck, I’ll have a spell by morning to give Gerhard a big surprise.”

“Bless you, Henry.”

He blushed, then hid his face. “Go away now.”

She heard the smile in his voice.

* * *

It was only 3:30 p.m. when Ari bounded up the stairs of the police station to Ryan’s third floor office. Her enthusiasm over Henry’s success faded upon hearing the police efforts had failed to turn up any trace of Gerhard. Ryan knew lots of places where he wasn’t, which included the majority of the lodging for rent or lease in Riverdale, from sleazy motels available by the hour to elegant sublets.

“We knew it was a long shot.” Ari kicked her toe lightly against Ryan’s desk. “He wants us to know he’s here, but he doesn’t want us to actually find him until he’s ready. He likes to be in control.”

“Who doesn’t.”

She looked up and gave him a half smile. “True.”

“A couple of officers are going back tomorrow and showing his picture to those who expressed doubts or said they couldn’t remember.” He leaned back in his desk chair. “What do you suppose he’s doing? Hanging out watching TV? Drinking beer somewhere? It’s been thirteen hours since he hit the compound.”

She grimaced. “I guess he has to sleep sometime.”

“Maybe he left. Teleported out of here and flew back to Germany from another city. Did you get ahold of your CIA friend?”

“No, I left a message, but haven’t heard back.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket. “I’ll try him again.”

Still no answer. She left a second message.

She smiled picturing the portly gentleman. “Who knows what time it is where he is. Horatio could be anywhere in the world. He’s supposed to be retired, but I got the impression he jumped in whenever the agency had a mission for him.”

“What’s a Britisher doing working for the CIA?”

“I haven’t asked.” She looked at the readout as her cell phone rang. “I guess I could ask him now.” She clicked it on. “Hello, Horatio.”

“Arianna, you cannot imagine how delighted I was to hear from you. I would have responded earlier, but I was making calls on your behalf. Have you located this Kirsch fellow yet?”

“We know he flew into Riverdale under the name of Heinrich Worman. One-way ticket. If he has a scheduled return, it hasn’t been used. At least not at this airport.”

“Nor any other airport. He flew from Frankfurt to New York to Chicago to Riverdale. I can find no return trip under either name or any male German citizen leaving the Riverdale area for overseas. The airlines will alert us if that should change. In the meantime, I suggest you assume he is somewhere nearby.” He cleared his throat. “Now tell me. Does this have anything to do with that kidnapping business we dealt with before?”

“Not with the wolves, but remember Toronto? There’s a direct tie.”

“Ah, the vampires again. Always intriguing. But I thought you said Kirsch was a warlock.”

“It’s a long story.”

Jones chuckled. “You know I always have time for a good story. Come on, Arianna, tell me what is going on. Of course if you don’t want my help…”

She grinned at the phone. “That sounds like blackmail. But I’ll tell you anyway.” She gave him a much condensed version of the dealings with the elders. He interrupted once to clarify who the elders were.

“The seven original vampires, the oldest of the undead. A brutal bunch. You may have heard them referred to as the O-Seven. They’ve ruled the vampire world for thousands of years.”

“And they see the rise of a new order in North America that could threaten them.”

“Something like that, I guess.”

“It sounds as if you have your hands full, young lady. I’ll do what I can to notify you of any nefarious assassins coming your way.” He sounded worried. “The intelligence community is aware of a shadow group known as the O-Seven. Since they were vampires preying on vampires, we chose to keep our distance. Now that looks shortsighted.” He sighed heavily. “If they’re branching out to the US, that will be of interest to the CIA, Homeland Security, and perhaps Interpol. I cannot guarantee any of these agencies will respond fast enough to be much help, but I’ll put out the word.”

Got to love his connections. “If you were here right now I’d kiss you.”

“And give an old man a heart attack.” Jones chuckled. “See that you survive this, my dear. I may want to come to Riverdale someday and collect that kiss.”

CHAPTER FIVE

The rest of the night and the next morning were eerily quiet. With each passing hour, Ari grew more edgy.

Lilith and Russell shook their heads as she practiced a water spell she’d learned in Germany. The damp floor in the basement of the mansion, and the pail and mop beside it, indicated the spell wasn’t working entirely as anticipated.

Shortly after noon they were interrupted by a call from Henry, his voice brimming with excitement. “I did it. I’ve got the spell.”

“On my way.” Ari jumped to her feet, breaking the magical circle she’d been sitting in, and startling the werelions. Ari waved at the puddles around her. “I’m too distracted to figure this out. And Henry’s waiting.”

When they arrived at the lab, Henry was whistling a merry tune, obviously pleased with himself. “You’re going to love what I have.” He waved his hand at the table, covered with small petri dishes of measured ingredients.

Ari nodded with approval.

“I started with powdered moonstone to honor your Goddess. Do you recognize the rest?”

She leaned forward for a closer look and pointed at each petri dish as she named its contents. “Belladonna for an altered state of mind. The angelica and basil are frequently used in exorcisms. Very appropriate for Gerhard. Agrimony. Yes, that would reverse the negative vibrations backwards onto him. Aloe is always good to protect the conjurer. But what is this?” She frowned at the red particles.

“The secret ingredient.” He lowered his voice. “Rafflesia arnoldii. Corpse plant. It’s rare, only found in the lower rainforests of Indonesia.”

“Oh, I like that.” She straightened. “But why are you whispering? Surely you don’t think there’s a spy in the lab.”

“Uh, sorry about that.” His voice returned to normal. “Caught up in the moment, I guess. You can count on it taking Gerhard some time to figure out the last ingredient is the corpse flower. Even if he does, it won’t be easy to find. You need fresh petals from the native variety. No hybrids and no dried plants.”

“So what does this spell actually do?”

“It will interrupt all of his spell powers for five to ten seconds. That should give you enough time to breach his defenses and capture him.”

“Or kill him.”

“Well, yes, that too.” Henry didn’t seem to be shocked or bothered by the alternative. “Of course you’ll need to mix it and add your own invocation. Shall we get started on the wording?”

With Henry helping, it didn’t take long. Once they thought it was right, Ari took the ingredients, her handwritten spell, a ritual candle and the pouch of magicks fastened to her waist to the corner of the lab usually reserved for trial runs in spellcasting. She set up her witches’ circle, laid the items around her, and opened her pouch. She took out a small silk cloth, spread it in front of her, then shook six empty spell capsules into her hand. When she’d separated the capsules into halves, she laid them on the cloth. Nodding once at Henry, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Ari took a moment to settle her mind, then opened her eyes and lit the candle, bowing to each of the four directions, representing the elements of earth, wind, water and fire. She picked up a pinch of the moonstone dust and sprinkled it on the candle, careful not to put out the flame. One by one she sprinkled the additional ingredients, chanting the spell words three times:

Evil is as it can do; stay his hand and spirit too;

Cloud his mind, blind his eyes; make his magic bound by ties;

Douse the fire; keep it cold; Goddess, hear this plea so bold.

If you choose to grant my plea, so mote it be.

Once the spell was completed she picked up the bottom half of a capsule, held it in the candle smoke, and added the words to capture the spell for later use:

Take this spell, wrap it tight; keep it safe from dark and light;

In these capsules, hide it all; set it free when I call;

Gracious Goddess, hear my plea; so mote it be.

When white smoke filled the capsule, she added the top and returned it to the cloth. She repeated the process until all six capsules were filled. Once she located Gerhard, she’d merely have to break a capsule to release the spell. She gathered her magic items, placed the spell capsules in her pouch, and broke the circle.

Henry was scribbling in a notepad. “Where did you learn that single candle capsuling trick? The ritual I use is much more cumbersome.”

“Germany. The witches there had a lot of practice in needing spells in a crisis, so they shortened the process.” As they walked toward the front of the room, she gave him the words of the chant she’d used. Henry’s head bobbed up and down as he wrote furiously.

Ten minutes later Ari, Lilith, and Russell left the lab and headed for home. The lions weren’t very impressed with a spell that lasted less than ten seconds. But all Ari needed was an edge, a few moments to act before Gerhard disintegrated her with fire or teleported out of reach. This spell was designed to do that. Providing it worked—not a sure thing until it was tested. She wouldn’t know until she was in the middle of a confrontation with Gerhard. She’d have to trust in Henry’s expertise.

Before they had covered more than two blocks, Ryan called to say his patrol officers had arrested an out-of-town bounty hunter at a local motel. The motel manager had called dispatch regarding a man acting suspiciously. When officers tried to question him, he ran, then surrendered once he was cornered. The police searched his room and found a dismantled sniper rifle in a case along with photos of Ari and Andreas.

The mention of the photos left her hands clammy. It made it so real.

She headed to the police station. Once she found Ryan, she ordered the werelions to go home, assuring them she’d be safe enough surrounded by police officers. She was tired of the constant scrutiny and of every frown and sigh. Russell and Lilith protested, reminding her of Andreas’s edict, but they finally agreed after Ryan promised to drive her home.

Ari and Ryan went to the basement holding cells to question the prisoner. He was the stereotype of a tough-as-a-junkyard-dog bounty hunter. The studded leather jacket and chains might have influenced the motel manager’s opinion of his character more than his behavior. He’d refused to talk with officers on the scene, and Ryan and Ari had no better luck. He was charged with going armed with intent, and they walked him through arraignment at night court. Bail was denied.

“If this keeps up, we could fill our jail,” Ryan said. He and Ari had just left the basement holding area and were climbing the stairs to his office. “Can’t European authorities put some pressure on the O-Seven to lift the bounty?”

“You must be kidding.” She shook her head. “The authorities have no power over the O-Seven. No one does. The witches have tried, but everyone else pretty much tries to stay out of their way.”

“What about their magic council?”

“There are none in Germany. They tried to get one started, but the vampires killed them.”

“Then other countries. Why don’t they step in?”

“Except for their on-going fights with the witches, the elders pretty much ignore the rest of the world. They don’t care what the humans or the elves or the wolves do as long as it doesn’t bother them. So no one is anxious to attract their attention by making an issue of it.”

Ryan held the third floor door open. “I can’t imagine that happening here.”

She stepped into the hallway but glanced back at him. “What would you do if you didn’t have me or the Magic Council, and Andreas was a blood-thirsty dictator?”

He frowned. “I don’t know, but I’d do something.”

Ari failed to hide her grin. “I imagine you would.

“What’s that grin mean?” he growled.

“Just thinking about what you might do. I’d guess it would involve tanks and special forces with flamethrowers.”

“If that’s what it took. Might be the perfect ticket for the vampire stronghold in Germany too. A plane or two armed with missiles or bombs might do the job.”

Ari chuckled. “Lilith and I talked about the merits of a nuclear solution last fall.”

They entered his office and Ryan went straight to his desk, shuffled through a pile of folders, and handed her two photos. “These were the pictures he had.”

She steeled herself to look at them. It was a good headshot of Andreas that had been taken at Club Dintero as part of a recent article by Eddie West, the crime reporter for the Riverdale Clarion. The photo of Ari was a candid snapshot from Germany. It was a side view of her talking to someone who’d been cut off. The most identifiable feature was her blonde hair.

She curled her lip and tossed the photos on his desk. “Maybe I should get a dye job.”

“Wouldn’t hurt.”

“Uh-uh. I was joking. It’s not going to happen.”

“Still wouldn’t hurt,” he grumbled. “No sense in making yourself an easy target.”

She considered her reflection in the glass of his police academy certificate hanging on the wall. “I could wear it up.” She twisted her hair into a ponytail and grabbed a rubber band from his desk. Taking his Riverdale PD ball cap from a shelf, she put it on and shoved her hair inside. “There.” She spun around with her arms out. “How’s that?”

“You look thirteen.”

“I should be getting home.” She took off the cap and set it back on the shelf.

A sudden spike of alarm shot through her. “Something’s wrong with Andreas.”

Her cell phone rang.

Andreas’s photo came up.

“I’m fine,” he said, “but the side entrance of the club has been fire bombed. Gerhard, I presume. This has got to stop.” He hung up.

She started toward the door. “The club’s been hit by a fire ball.”

She’d reached the top of the stairs when a loud explosion rocked the police building. Ari whirled, raced back into Ryan’s office to peer out the window. Gerhard stood across the street, his fingers pouring fire toward the front entrance of the station. She grabbed her Walther and fired through the window pane.

Gerhard clutched his arm and dropped to one knee. She’d only nicked him. He looked up at the window, extended his fingers, and Ari dove for the floor. The fire bolt hit the building, and flames lapped at the wood frame. She grabbed her coat and attempted to smother them until Ryan appeared from the hallway with a fire extinguisher.

Ari looked out the window again, but Gerhard was gone. She spun around, her eyes flashing. “I’m going to find him and kick his ass.”

They hurried down the stairs. Several officers were treating the staff who’d been injured in the initial blast and others fought the spreading flames with fire extinguishers. The massive double doors at the entrance were gone, obliterated by Gerhard’s attack, leaving a gaping hole in the exterior wall.

The EMTs and fire department had arrived. Ari spotted the fire chief and asked him about the club.

“Engine 19 responded, but the fire was already out. No injuries from the explosion, but a woman fell on the ice in the stampede out the front door.” He gave Ari a pointed look. “What’s going on, Ms. Calin? I take it this isn’t a normal firebug.”

She lowered her voice. “A rogue fire witch. We’re going to catch him, Chief. I promise.”

“Well, I hope it’s before he burns the entire district down.”

Ari watched the fire chief go back to work. She couldn’t blame him for his skepticism. Hadn’t she told Ryan she didn’t think there’d be more fires after City Hall? So far she’d been wrong four times. Gerhard was playing with them, thumbing his nose. He wanted to show her she was helpless to stop him. Ari rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand. He was doing a damn good job of making his point.

But he wouldn’t keep this up forever. Her stomach knotted. He’d soon grow tired of the games and take more serious action, like maiming or killing people. Someone close to her, if he could.

Ari wanted to see Club Dintero for herself, and for that she needed a ride. She looked around until she found Ryan coming out of his captain’s office.

“Just updating the brass,” he said. “The captain’s steaming. Wants Kirsch found yesterday.” He handed her a blue windbreaker with POLICE stenciled on the back. “It’s not much, but if you stay in the cruiser, you’ll be OK for the time being.”

“Can you leave long enough to drive me to the club?”

“Sure thing. Not much I can do here.” He glanced at her with a glimmer of a smile. “I’ll even give you that hat you tried on. You can be our teeny bopper squad.”

* * *

Club Dintero appeared normal from the front—if you ignored the heavy tire tracks and multiple footprints that had trampled a snowy path into the side driveway. Ryan parked his cruiser in front and went in with her. The club was empty except for staff. Andreas had closed until the damage could be cleared.

Ari had already called him about the attack on the police building, so he just shook his head when he saw them. He took a second look at her coat and hat. “Is this a new fashion statement?”

“My coat was ruined in the fire, and the hat is part of my disguise.”

“Disguise?”

“Ryan thinks I should dye my hair, so this is my way of compromising.”

Andreas flashed Ryan a quick grin. “It is kind of cute.”

She brushed past him. “Let’s see the damage.”

“This is becoming a habit with you,” Ryan said to Andreas as they walked down the hall toward the office area and the side entrance. “Second fire bombing at your club in two years.”

“What can I say? We attract some nasty people. But the damage is minor this time. The flames were out before they reached the offices, kitchen, or dining area. Repairs should be made before morning, and we’ll be open by tomorrow night.”

Workmen had already started the cleaning and clearing process. The hall smelled heavily of smoke, and two men were lugging in a big fan; others were starting to scrub down the walls.

Ari turned away, the knot in her stomach loosening a little. Another close call. If Andreas’s staff hadn’t been trained for emergencies, the fire might have gotten out of control. With three hundred club guests, the results would have been awful. “I understand a woman was hurt.”

“Slipped on the ice. She went to the hospital for x-rays, but I think it was a sprain. What about the PD?”

“Mostly minor stuff. We’ve been lucky.”

“It is not luck, Arianna.” Andreas regarded her with dark, unreadable eyes. “He is not trying. Gerhard is harassing you.”

“I know.” She let out a dispirited sigh. “But what can I do? I don’t know where he is or how to find him. I wouldn’t know how to defeat him if I did.”

Andreas took her arm and steered her toward his office. “Ryan, can you give us a minute?”

“No problem. I’ll give my mom a call before she hears about the fire at the station and gets worried.”

“This won’t take long.” Andreas opened his office door and gestured for Ari to enter.

She swung around to face him the moment he closed the office door behind them. “Is something else wrong? That you haven’t told me?”

“You are what’s wrong.” His voice was soft but held a hint of frustration. “You are not acting like yourself. Gerhard bound your fire magic, not your witchcraft or your guardian skills or your cop instincts. Cara mia, you are acting helpless, and I have never seen you this way.”

She clenched her fists, his words unlocking emotions she’d been at great pains to hide. “I don’t know how to protect everyone. Someone I love is going to die because of me, and I can’t stop it.” Her chest tightened, and her eyes burned with unshed tears.

“Cara mia.” Andreas moved across the room and pulled her into his arms. “This is not—”

“Don’t be nice to me.” Ari tried to push him away but he didn’t budge. “Let me go. I’ve made a huge mess of everything.” Her fists thumped on his chest and the tears fell. He continued to hold her, murmuring softly. She finally quieted and leaned her head against him. “I still miss Brando.”

“I know, but that was not your fault. You cannot hold yourself responsible for every bad thing that happens. You are trying so hard to be all things to all people that you are losing sight of who Arianna is.”

“She’s a broken witch,” Ari said darkly.

Andreas narrowed his eyes. “Now you sound like a petulant child.”

She stepped back, crossed her arms, and scowled at him. “Maybe I am.” She dropped her arms and walked away. “I don’t feel like myself. The fire is a big part of me.”

“It is still there, and we will find a way to set it free. Until then, Arianna the guardian, the cop”—he paused long enough that she turned to see a smile tug at his mouth—“and the strong woman I love needs to make an immediate reappearance to take care of this warlock.”

She narrowed her eyes in a long, unfriendly look. His gaze didn’t waver, and she looked away first. “Yeah, you’re right. I have to get it together.”

A sharp knock at the door interrupted them, but before either had a chance to respond, Ryan threw it open. He looked at Ari.

“Have you talked with Claris today?”

“Early this morning. Why?”

“I can’t reach anyone at the house or my mom’s cell phone or Claris’s.”

“Oh Goddess. Maybe Gerhard found them.”

Andreas grabbed his leather jacket off the back of the couch. “Here. Take this. It’s heavier than that flimsy windbreaker.” He helped her into it, and bent to kiss her firmly. “Be careful.”

* * *

Ari peered out the car window as they drove up to the Foster family home, a beige two-story frame house in the suburbs. The neighborhood appeared as quiet as anyone would expect on a cold winter night. The lights were on in the living room, dining room, and kitchen. His mother’s blue Dodge Dart was parked in the driveway.

“She should be home.” Ryan parked, and they walked up the steps to the front porch. He opened the door, calling out as he entered. “Mom, are you here? Claris?”

The large living room with its blue couch, matching chairs, and multi-colored cushions was empty, with nothing out of place.

Ari added her voice, calling for her friend, and followed Ryan into the kitchen. Well-organized, cheerful. Everything put away.

“Mom?” he called again, starting down the hallway. “I wonder if my sister-in-law picked them up and took them shopping or out to eat.”

Ari stuck her head in the dining room. Cards lay on the table with two stacks of pennies. But it was the chair that made her heart catch in her throat. It had been knocked over, one leg splintered.

“Ryan.” Her voice came out dry and unsteady. “I don’t think your mom would leave the chair like this.”

Ryan whipped around and joined her in the doorway. “Damn it. It is Gerhard.” He dialed his sister-in-law’s cell number. “Have you seen Mom? I don’t know. She isn’t here. No, Claris isn’t either. Yeah, I’ll call.” He hung up. “She hasn’t even talked with them today.”

They searched the rest of the house, found the cat hiding under a bed, then Ryan banged the back door on the way to check the toolshed and talk with the neighbors.

Ari called Andreas. “No one’s here. A chair’s overturned, but no bodies, not even any blood. He must have taken them, but where?”

Ryan came in stomping the snow off his feet. “Nobody’s been to the shed. The lady next door saw Claris go out and pick up the mail late this afternoon. But she hasn’t seen them since. We know they were here at dark, because the lights are on.”

The house phone rang in the kitchen. Ryan rushed to answer it.

“Hello?” He was quiet for a moment. “What have you done with them? What do you want?” he bellowed.

Ari ran to the kitchen. Gerhard? she mouthed.

Ryan nodded. “What?” he said into the phone.

“Let me talk to him,” Ari insisted.

“He wants to talk to you anyway.” Ryan nearly threw her the phone and vented his frustration by kicking the kitchen wastebasket.

She focused on the phone. “Kidnapping women, Gerhard? Isn’t that a new low for you?”

“Ah, Arianna, I can always count on you for such stimulating conversation. I haven’t harmed your friend or the cop’s mother, but that won’t last unless you do precisely as I say.”

“You really are a scumbag.”

He ignored her. “I’ve grown tired of Riverdale. It has little entertainment to offer me. You know why I’m here, Arianna. Meet me tonight. Goshen Park. West fountain. Come alone, unarmed, and I’ll release your friends.”

“How can I trust you’ll do that?”

“You may watch them leave. In fact, your cop friend can come as far as the park gate to retrieve them. They are nothing to me. It’s you I want.”

“Yeah, well, we all want something.”

“And you want your friends. I am confident you won’t let them die in your place. It’s unfortunate it has to end this way, but you did have a chance to join me. Now, I could never trust you. Not after you killed my dear, dear, brother Warin.” He gave an exaggerated sigh, a chill reminder of his insensitivity. “Shall we say midnight?”

“I’ll be there.”

His laugh was harsh. “Don’t worry, Ari. You can rest easy about Andreas. The O-Seven will see that he doesn’t grieve for long. I had to hurry to get to you first.”

The click in her ear echoed loudly.

A chill ran down her spine. She had to warn Andreas. Ari set the phone in its cradle and turned to face Ryan. “He said the elders are on their way.”

The cop frowned. “What about my mother and Claris?”

She blinked, then straightened her shoulders. “He wants to make a trade. Their lives for mine. I agreed.”

CHAPTER SIX

“You can’t go there alone. He’s going to kill you.” Ryan had been arguing with her since they left his mother’s house.

“He’ll certainly try. But I’m pretty hard to kill.” Ari did her best to be patient. If the situation was reversed, she’d be doing everything she could to stop him. But this was between her and Gerhard. She was the one who could settle it.

“Andreas isn’t going to allow this, you know.”

“We’ll see.”

Ryan let out a sharp laugh. “Are you kidding? The man would cut off his right arm to keep you safe. He won’t agree.”

“It’s not necessary for him to agree. This is my decision.” Ryan might be in for a surprise. Andreas’s alpha instincts would certainly want to do battle for her, but more than anyone else, he would understand that abandoning Claris was not an option. He also knew that the warlock was a problem she had to handle.

Ryan pulled to a stop in a no parking zone across from the club and slammed the car into park. “Then let’s find out what Andreas has to say.”

Ari stopped with her hand on the car door. “You don’t have to come with me. I’m going to tell him.”

“Yep, because I’m going to be there to hear you do it.” His rough tone and the determined set to his jaw left no room for argument.

Ari shrugged, annoyed but resigned. “Suit yourself.”

“I intend to,” Ryan continued more calmly. “Gerhard invited me to this meeting, and I plan to be there to pick up my mom and Claris. And to back up my partner whether she likes it or not.”

“Hey, I didn’t make the rules. Gerhard did. If you can hide a gun somewhere, by all means, do it.” She got out and walked into the club, turning left into the office.

Andreas met her at the door. “Anything new?”

“Gerhard called the house, and we negotiated for their release.” Her voice was flat.

Andreas grew still. “And?”

“He’ll let them go, if I meet him alone, unarmed.” She met his intense look. “I’m going to go.”

The muscles tightened along his jaw line. “Where and when?”

“Midnight. At the west fountain.”

Andreas walked away from her and raked his fingers through his hair. She watched him fight for control, his power leaking enough to raise goose bumps along her arms.

“I told her she can’t go alone,” Ryan said.

Andreas turned then, his face devoid of expression. “But she will. She does not have much choice.”

“My God, Andreas…” Ryan took a step forward.

The vampire shook his head, anger glinting in his eyes. “You think I want this? I don’t have the right to stop her. Nor do you.”

Ari swallowed hard. She felt the pain, heard the understanding. It had cost him dearly to accept her decision. She went to him, rose onto her toes to hug his neck, and whispered, “I love you. I’ll do everything I can to stay in one piece. I promise.”

“I know.” He held her tight. After a moment, he released her. “If your meeting is at midnight, we have less than two hours to figure out how to handle this and what kind of backup we can provide.”

* * *

At ten minutes before midnight, Ryan pulled his cruiser up to the west gate of Goshen Park. Ari got out, and Ryan joined her. Andreas had left twenty minutes earlier to find a hidden position somewhere in the woods. With his shielding, he should be able to hide his presence from Gerhard, as long as he didn’t get too close. It wasn’t likely he could get there fast enough to save her if Gerhard struck unexpectedly, but he might be close enough that Gerhard wouldn’t leave unscathed.

“OK, I guess this is it.” Ryan’s voice was rougher than usual. “As Claris and my mom pass you, tell them to stay out of my line of fire. I want a clear shot at him.” A pistol was hidden in his right boot. He wore his regular service pistol in a visible holster.

She placed a hand on his arm. “Don’t blow this by shooting too soon. It’s an iffy pistol range from here. Besides, he could throw up barrier shields all night if necessary, and still get away. Wait until I’ve had a chance to end this. Of course, if I’m down, it’s up to you and Andreas.”

“I got it.” Ryan wouldn’t meet her eyes. He looked toward the fountain. “You better go. It’s almost midnight.”

Ari opened the wrought iron gate, and tramped her way through the snow. The swan fountain was nearly covered, the swan’s spreading wings caught by the drifts. Only its head stretched above it all as if refusing to bow to the elements.

Her senses prickled. Gerhard was here. Watching.

Seconds ticked away. Why was it taking her so long to reach the fountain?

The park felt different. More than the deep snow and bitter, gusting wind, it felt unfriendly. Maybe that was her imagination, knowing Gerhard was nearby. She pulled Andreas’s jacket more tightly around her neck. She liked having a tangible part of him with her.

Her psychic link to Andreas was open. She could sense his presence—it kept her steady—but they wouldn’t use it unless it was necessary. She couldn’t afford to be distracted. He was staying at a physical distance to avoid detection by Gerhard and also not to interfere with Ari’s magic. They still hadn’t solved that problem.

She peered ahead. The air swirled with flakes tossed by the brisk wind. She couldn’t see anyone, but she felt another energy out there. The humans, Claris and Mary, would hardly be a blip on her radar, so it had to be Gerhard. Had he brought the women with him? Or was this whole thing another ruse?

There was no moon tonight, just the hazy glow that layers of snow crystals made in the dark. She noticed other tracks. Small. Probably children playing during the day. Tonight, with the sharp drop in temperature, not even the animals were out. She hugged the jacket, ran her bare hands up and down her arms. She came to a halt about twenty feet from the fountain.

Ari stomped her wet boots and brushed the snow off her jacket as an excuse for taking the zipper down the rest of the way, giving her access to the gun tucked in her jeans at the small of her back. Her hands were icy cold, and she stuck them in her pockets. The feel of the spell capsules and the second Walther in her left jacket pocket were reassuring.

Where the hell was Gerhard? If he waited much longer her fingers would be too cold to pull a trigger. She felt several sets of eyes watching her. Gerhard, Andreas, and Ryan for sure. Maybe even Claris and Mrs. Foster. She shifted her feet. It was creepy being watched like this.

She cocked her head. Footsteps crunched in the snow.

“I wasn’t positive you’d come, guardian. Show me your hands. Let me see you’re unarmed.”

“I’m not completely stupid, Gerhard. Of course I’m armed.” Ari pulled the Walther out of her pocket to show him. “This stays in my hand until you keep your side of the bargain and release Claris and Mary.”

“That wasn’t the deal.”

“This is my deal. Do you want my compliance or shall we just shoot it out?”

Gerhard’s tall figure and the smaller shapes of the women appeared at the edge of the woods and moved in her direction. The warlock was heavily bundled against the cold, except for his uncovered hands. The women weren’t restrained, but they shivered in shirts and jeans.

Damn him. Ari’s nostrils flared, anger warming her. Couldn’t he show the least decency by letting them have their coats?

“Claris, are you two OK?” she called.

“Go ahead, answer her,” Gerhard ordered.

“Y-yes.” Claris’s teeth chattered. “Just a little cold.”

“We’re unharmed,” Mary said. “But don’t trust him.”

Gerhard backhanded the older woman. She staggered, but Claris caught her arm to keep her from falling into a snowdrift. “That’s enough. We don’t need your opinions.”

Ari clenched her fists, struggling to keep her mouth shut. If he knew how much it bothered her, he’d do it again…or worse.

“Ari, throw that gun toward me.”

“Not until you release them.”

“You act as if you haven’t figured out who’s in control of this situation. This is my call. The gun. Now. Or I’ll burn them both in front of you.”

“You do, and you’ll have a bullet hole in the middle of your forehead.” She widened her shooting stance and held the gun in two hands. “If you want me to surrender, you have to do this part my way. I have to know my friends are safe. Release them.”

He was silent a moment, then beckoned to her with his hand. “Come forward to the fountain. They’ll meet you there.” He shoved Ryan’s mother away from him. She and Claris took a few tentative steps, and Ari moved toward them.

The three women reached the fountain without incident, and Ari tossed the gun at Gerhard’s feet. She clasped Mary’s cold hands and began to shrug off her jacket.

“What are you doing?” Gerhard yelled, watching her suspiciously.

“Just giving her my coat. They’re freezing.” Ari palmed the two capsules, then slipped the jacket over the Mary’s shoulders. She lowered her voice and whispered, “Ryan’s here to help you. Stay out of his line of fire and run for the closest cover if things go bad.” She met Claris’s eyes for a moment.

“Ari, I—” Ari shook her head, and Claris’s voice faded.

“It’ll be OK. Go. Hurry.”

“What’s the holdup?” Gerhard was getting impatient. “I kept my promise, it’s time to keep yours. Come toward me with your hands out at your sides palms up. I want to see you’re not holding anything.”

She fumbled with the coat until she had the capsules wedged between her fingers, taking a quick peek to be sure they didn’t show. At least she hoped they wouldn’t from where Gerhard stood. She slowly brought her arms out, palms up but slightly curved and started toward him. When she was twenty-five feet away, he walked to meet her.

Please Goddess, let them be at the gate by now. If she didn’t make her move soon, it would be too late.

“Down on your knees!” Gerhard stopped ten feet away as if he thought she might tackle him if he got closer. He held one hand out, his fingers pointed at her, his face twisted in a malevolent grin. “Beg me for your life. It won’t do any good, but I’d love to hear it.”

“Go to hell.” She clutched the fingers of her left hand, crushing the capsules and releasing the spells. She flung the magical essence toward him, using her mind to direct its path, and dove sideways into the snow as he released a bolt of fire. Rolling to avoid the stream of flames, she snatched the gun at the small of her back and fired.

Gerhard turned toward her rolling figure to send a second ball of flames, but the spell magic hit him and he faltered. A loud blast of gunfire echoed through the park, then he keeled backward.

Ari sprang to her feet. The body sprawled in the snow had a bullet hole in the forehead, but red also blossomed from a second hole in his chest. She’d only fired once. A head shot. She looked back at Ryan.

Andreas was the first to reach her, gripping her so tightly her ribs hurt; Claris reached her next. Ryan and his mother were close behind. Claris burst into tears, then so did Mary Foster.

Ari leaned against Andreas for a moment, then shivered and pushed away. “For Goddess sake, can we please get someplace warm?”

* * *

Ari hid a smile when Ryan attempted to take the chilled women to the hospital. He was out-voted by his mother.

“I hope after living my entire life in the Midwest that I can take the cold,” she declared. “What I need is a hot bath and a hot meal. I want to go home.”

That’s where they all went. Claris jumped in the guest shower, while Mary soaked in the master bathroom tub. Ari stayed with Claris, talking with her through the shower door, the two women assuring each other that they were fine. Ari asked what had happened over the last few hours.

“Mary was beating me at poker, when he just suddenly appeared.” Claris’s voice was clear despite the sound of running water. “Before I even said anything, he sprayed us with some kind of mist, and I blacked out. Something like chloroform, I guess.”

“So how’d the chair get broken?”

The water stopped.

“I’m not sure. There wasn’t time for a fight.” Claris exited from the shower with a towel wrapped around her. “I suppose one of us knocked it over as we passed out. The next thing I knew I woke in a motel room. Mary and I were alone, but tied and gagged. He didn’t come back until dark, then mostly paced, ranting to himself, and hardly said a word to us.”

“I felt as if we weren’t real people to him.” Claris continued getting dressed. “He was obsessed with getting revenge against you.” She shivered and met Ari’s gaze. “He’s a horrible person, and I’m not sorry he’s dead.”

Ari nodded her understanding of what Claris hadn’t put into words. Justice for Brando. Both Kirsch brothers responsible for his death had paid with their own lives.

Ari and Claris returned downstairs to find Mary in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the soup and hot chocolate that Ryan and Andreas had started.

While Ryan and his mother fussed over Claris, Ari slipped an arm around Andreas’s waist. “Shall we go?”

He looked at his wristwatch. “Lilith should be out front with the Lexus about now. I called her fifteen minutes ago to have it waiting. Don’t you want to eat first?”

Drained by the emotional rollercoaster of the last forty-hours, her body felt too heavy to keep going much longer. She shook her head and leaned against him. “I just want to go home.”

* * *

Late the following afternoon, Claris and Ari visited Brando’s grave. Lilith, still on guard against the bounty hunters, waited near the car.

When they reached the grave of their childhood friend, Ari brushed the snow from the headstone, then took Claris’s gloved hand. They let a moment pass in silence.

“It’s done, Brando. The last of your murderers is dead.” Claris placed a bouquet of flowers from her greenhouse on the headstone. The blooms wouldn’t last more than minutes in the bitter cold, but Brando wouldn’t mind.

Afterward, they went to Claris’s two-level apartment, five rooms at the rear of her herbal shop. She’d moved back home that morning. Once again Lilith gave them some space by remaining in the car.

Hernando, Claris’s white Siamese, was back in his usual perch in the greenhouse, seeming content to be home. Ari gave him a pat as they walked through.

Claris pulled on her hand. “I know you can’t stay long, but come upstairs. I have something to show you.”

She led Ari into the small bedroom and pulled open the closet, lifting out a white garment bag. She unzipped it and pulled out a silky, pale-green gown, floor-length, empire waistline. A faint smile trembled on her lips. “You were a little worried about the color of the bridesmaid dress last fall, and we didn’t get around to the fitting so you could see it…but I would never have put you in pink. Green is your best color.”

“Oh, honey, it’s beautiful.” Ari swallowed hard, but the tears she’d held back for the last hour spilled over. That brought on a fresh round of tears from Claris, and they sat on the bed hugging and crying. It wasn’t their first cry in the last three months.

Ari, Claris, and Brando had been friends since second grade, then three years ago Claris and Brando had fallen in love. A wedding had been planned for last November, but Brando had been killed while trying to free the Riverdale vampire compound from a takeover by Gerhard and his brother.

Ari sat up and smiled apologetically. “I love the dress, but I can’t wear it. Not now.”

“I understand.” Claris glanced at the closet where the garment bag with her wedding dress hung. “I couldn’t bear to look at any of the wedding things until now, but when I came home this morning, everything seemed different. So I went through them all. Then I called around town, and one of the bridal shops has a program for low income women. I’m going to donate everything.”

“That sounds like a perfect idea.” Ari gave her one last hug. “Are you going to be OK if I leave you?”

“I will now.” Claris wiped the last of the tears away. “Thank you for being with me today.”

“Where else would I be? But I should get home now. Killing Gerhard doesn’t eliminate the rest of our problems.”

“Isn’t it possible the O-Seven will decide to leave you alone now that their warlock’s dead?”

Ari shook her head. “That won’t stop them. Besides, I’m not sure they knew he was here. You should have seen how the elders treated him and his brother in Germany. They wouldn’t rely on him to get the job done.” She frowned. “Geez, I hate to prove the elders right on anything. But the point is, they’re so powerful they didn’t need Gerhard. I think he was a new, shiny toy. A novelty. His loss will mean nothing to them.

She shrugged off trying to figure out what motivated the elders. “If they come here, everyone around us will be in danger. So…I won’t be seeing you for a while.” She raised a hand when Claris started to protest. “Look what already happened. I can’t deal with the vampire elders and the bounty hunters and worry about my friends too. I want you far away from the fight, and that means away from me. Ryan can be our go-between.”

“I don’t like it, but OK, if that’s what you need. Please don’t do anything too risky.”

Claris looked so woebegone that Ari hugged her again, then headed for the door. At the last minute she turned back and forced a smile to her lips. “Love ya, girlfriend.” Just in case.

* * *

When Ari and Lilith arrived at the mansion they heard voices in the study. Following the sound, they found a war council huddled around the conference table. Andreas stood on the far side of the table. Across from him sat weretiger Samuel, his house security officer, and werelion Russell, his club security officer. Daron, the vampire prince of Toronto, and his security chief, werewolf Mike, were on the other end of a conference call discussing the impending visit of the O-Seven.

“Is this a private conspiracy or can anyone join in?” she asked dryly.

Andreas smiled at her and walked around the table. “We were having a preliminary discussion while waiting for Gabriel and the others to join us. I knew you would be home soon.” He reached her and bent his head close. “How did it go?”

“Good. Better than I expected.”

He kissed her temple. “You can tell me about it later. Now, the reason for this meeting—Daron has been told that the O-Seven are leaving Germany soon.”

“Yeah, Gerhard implied that too,” she said. “He said after he killed me, the O-Seven wouldn’t let you live long enough to mourn.”

“Bad call on his part.”

The corners of her mouth turned up. “Yeah, it was. Let’s see if we can make the O-Seven just as sorry for messing around with us.”

Daron’s deep chuckle rumbled from a phone speaker. “I admire your confidence, Arianna. Congratulations on eliminating the troublesome warlock, but the elders will not be as easy.”

Troublesome warlock? She sighed. “I suppose you’re right. So where do we start?”

Andreas’s hand on her back steered her toward the table. “Lilith, pull up a chair. I had hoped Gabriel would…ah, I think that is him now.” He walked toward the door, and Ari took a seat with the others.

He returned, ushering his two lieutenants before him, and spoke toward the phone. “Daron, if you are ready? Gabriel and Oliver are here now.”

“Very good.” Daron’s gruff voice filled the room. “I have received a message by courier that two of the elders are coming to America, and it suggested I divert them by inviting them to Toronto for negotiation between their court and mine. By mine, they included the Canadian courts who stood with us last year during the confrontation with their enforcer, Ursula.” He paused. “The Riverdale court was also included. The elders appear to be under the impression that we have formed a conspiracy to bring about their downfall. How we handle this could be the difference between an uneasy peace and all-out war. Inviting them to Toronto is an intriguing proposal, but I am not convinced this is the way to go. Offering to negotiate might simply bolster their belief we are uniting against them. Thoughts?” The phone stayed silent this time.

“We’re caught between hell and a hard place.” Gabriel slumped back in his chair. “If we don’t negotiate, don’t we run the risk of them concluding we think we’re strong enough to defy them? They might attack now, without warning, to destroy us before we become stronger.”

No one else spoke for a moment.

“Same source as before?” Ari asked.

“Yes. It was Bastian.” Daron’s voice held no inflection.

Gabriel sat forward again, his eyes narrowing. “Why would Bastian do that? If he’s not lying to trick us, is he speaking for the elders or for himself?”

“I do not know the answer. I have many theories, but no basis for favoring one over another.”

Ari schooled her face to hide her shock. Only a handful of people knew that Bastian was Daron’s sire. In fact, Daron was a First Son, the designation given to the first male vampire sired by each of the O-Seven elders. It was usually a position of honor, but Daron and Bastian had been estranged for centuries due to Daron’s democratic ideals. When Daron split from the elders’ court, Bastian had offered him protection for life if Daron never linked his name with Bastian’s again. Both vampires had stuck to their bargain for hundreds of years. So why had the elder taken such a sudden interest in him now?

Daron continued. “This is the third time in a year that Bastian has contacted me. That is somewhat unique. He has an agenda and envisions some reward for his helpful efforts, but I have not yet fathomed what that might be.”

Ari couldn’t ask the questions she wanted without revealing Daron’s secret relationship, so she changed the subject. “Assuming Bastian is one of the two coming, who is the other?”

“Porbius.”

She shot up straight in her chair. “But that’s the guy who voted to kill me.”

“Unfortunately, that is true.” Andreas had been present in the elders’ court when Porbius had made his recommendation. “He is aggressive, impulsive, and the intellectual inferior to a majority of the elders. It makes him a poor choice for a negotiator.”

Ari chewed her lip. Of the two, Bastian seemed more reasonable. If it hadn’t been for his intervention, Porbius’s recommendation might have been accepted. Yet Bastian’s help had been incidental rather than intentional, hadn’t it? And surely he’d been part of the psychic attack on Andreas just hours after their escape. His major vampire ability was mind control.

“This is bad. Really bad,” she muttered.

Gabriel leaned over to whisper. “Yeah, love, I think I already said that.”

“What have the other Canadian princes said?” Andreas sat on the corner of the table, one leg over the edge.

“I have only talked with Raphael and Bolivar, because I wanted to discuss it with you first. They think most of them will follow our lead.”

“Whatever that might be,” Gabriel grumbled.

As they continued to discuss the pros and cons of various responses to Bastian’s proposal, Ari kept thinking about the vampire elder. He was only average-looking, but he had broad shoulders and great presence. Even among the powerful elders, he had stood out. He’d pretended boredom and indifference, but his watchful eyes had taken in everything. His championing of Andreas hadn’t been an accident, nor was his offer to Daron. He had a scheme of his own. They just needed to figure out what it was.

What would a vampire who had everything want? More. But more what? Not money, not property. It had to be power. Did he want to assume control of the O-Seven? How could anything from Daron or Andreas further his ambitions?

Andreas’s voice brought her attention back to the discussion. “How do you vote, Arianna? Should Daron issue the invitation or not?”

“I vote…yes. The quickest way to figure out what they want—or what Bastian wants—is to talk with them.”

“Gabriel?”

The blond vampire considered Andreas then smiled at Ari. “I love how you can’t resist jumping right into the middle of things. But why not? They’re not going to go away, so I also vote yes.”

Oliver, being the only conservative vampire present, voted no. The security personnel were split two to two, Lilith and Russell affirmative, Mike and Samuel the dissenters. Andreas voted yes, with a caveat. “I want to know that the other princes are with us on this, and that the Magic Councils in Toronto and Riverdale are in agreement or at least kept informed.”

Daron argued against involving the Toronto Magic Council. He was still in the process of building a relationship with them. The council had been so poisoned by his predecessor that they had little trust for vampires. He agreed only after Ari offered to be the go-between by contacting her fellow guardian Zoe Vesper with the Canadian council.

The moment the meeting was over, Ari collected Russell and Lilith to make her nightly patrol of the Olde Town District. She skipped the restored 1800s market district, where brick streets and quaint shops brimmed with shoppers during the tourist season, and she bypassed Goshen Park. Until the weather improved, both were unlikely trouble spots. With the exception of the vampires and the reptilian species, most of the supernatural races were susceptible to the cold and stayed inside the bars and strip clubs at night. But even those establishments had been sparsely visited lately. The bitter cold had slowed life all over Riverdale.

The deserted streets made the six black and gray stripped werehyenas stand out the moment they erupted from the alley. Ari halted, her magic flaring, and she reached for her guns. These guys weren’t in town for a drink or they wouldn’t be in animal form.

Russell and Lilith tensed beside her, both with guns in hand. Although the local hyenas were an unfriendly clan, they weren’t likely to attack a guardian. And they were solid-colored. The stripes marked this pack as out-of-towners.

Ari and the werelions stood their ground as the hyenas began to fan out and move toward them. The worst thing you could do was run from hyenas. The second was to engage in hand-to-hand combat; their jaws were built to crush bone.

“Stop where you are,” Ari called. “What do you want?”

“Ari, behind us.” Russell’s whisper was urgent.

She glanced over her shoulder. Four more hyenas were closing in from behind. Both groups picked up the pace. “Cover the rear, Russell. Lilith and I will take the front.” She glanced at the lioness. “I’m starting with the guy in the lead.”

The hyenas broke into a run, and Ari fired her Walther. Her first shot struck the leader in the shoulder. He stumbled, but recovered and kept coming. She kept firing; Russell and Lilith picked off targets one by one. But kill shots were difficult in the chaos, and like most shifters, the hyenas’ healing rate and tolerance for damage was high, even from silver bullets. There were just too many, and close enough now to see the saliva dripping from their teeth.

Across the street, the bar doors flew open and werewolves spilled into the streets—her friend Steffan’s pack—and joined the fight.

Ari lost sight of the hyena leader until he leaped from among the snarling bodies and knocked her down. She landed hard, the hyena on top of her. She yanked her right hand free, shoved the gun against his head and pulled the trigger. Even the strongest shifter will go down with a head shot.

She shoved at the dead weight, and Lilith appeared, pulling from above. Ari was back on her feet in time to see the surviving hyenas break off the attack and run—straight into Andreas, Gabriel and Oliver. Psychic links could be a pain, but they were a terrific asset when you needed reinforcements.

The vampires dispatched three more hyenas, which encouraged the two survivors to run faster on their way out of town.

Andreas came to her side, his eyes assessing her for damage, and he reached out to touch the scratch on her cheek. His gaze moved to the guns still in her hands, then to the rips in her coat, and he flashed a brief smile. “You are hard on jackets. Can’t I let you out of my sight for even a few minutes?”

“Just doing some target shooting with my new pistol. Nothing serious, thanks to all the help.” She put her weapons away and walked toward the wolves. Two of them nursed injuries, but no one appeared seriously hurt. She was thanking them when the squad car arrived.

“What’s going on here?” A Riverdale officer popped out, one hand hovering over his holster. “Guardian, it that you? Do you need assistance?”

“I think we’re good, but we should get the bodies off the street.”

Another cruiser pulled up. It was Ryan.

The patrolman’s shoulders relaxed. “I’ll call the coroner,” he said.

Ryan waved him off. “Already done. I called when I saw the first casualties up the street.” He walked toward them, a scowl on his face. “More bounty hunters?”

“Probably.” Ari’s tone was apologetic.

The wolves perked up with the mention of bounty hunters. Ari mentally groaned. It would be all over town by morning. She studied the strong faces around her. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to have their friends on the lookout for strangers.

Ryan seemed oblivious to their audience. “Any get away?”

“Two, but I doubt they’ll come back.” Ari swept her gaze around the circle of wolves and vampires. “I don’t think they liked our hospitality committee.”

Gabriel chuckled. The lighter moment melted the tension, but it didn’t change the fact that this had been another narrow escape.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The news of the bounty hunters spread as anticipated, and by six the next morning the council president was on the phone demanding to see her.

“No, I do not want to discuss it on the phone. I will be in my office. Waiting.” He’d hung up then. Ari’s shoulders slumped. She couldn’t remember hearing him quite this angry. He might have been angrier last fall when he’d fired her, but she hadn’t talked with him then until he’d calmed down several days later.

She jumped in the shower, then dressed quickly. She hadn’t called him specifically about the most recent bounty hunters, but the information had been in her daily reports. Didn’t he read anything she wrote? She took the time to check her computer. Yes, there were the reports. She clicked on the first one. Oops, she hadn’t flagged it to the president’s attention. She checked the others. Two had been flagged, the others not. She was getting sloppy. Ari sighed. Too much on her mind. She heard they’d recently located Tom Bodie vacationing in Florida. He wasn’t going to like the change in weather.

The president was still in a bad mood when she arrived at his office. So she started off with an apology and explained her failure to flag the reports. “I wasn’t trying to hide the information. It’s just that the warlock and the O-Seven were more pressing. I’ve been so busy I’ve hardly thought about the bounty.”

He smoothed his long white beard as she finished. “And yet, we’ve had bounty hunters right under our noses.”

“Most of the trouble was Gerhard Kirsch. Lt. Foster arrested a human sniper, and there was an attack on Andreas. Last night is the only time the public’s been involved.” She hurried on. “I know that doesn’t excuse anything, but…when does Bodie get here?”

A hint of a smile peeked out from the wizard’s beard. “This afternoon. Another guardian has been called to backup Martin in the suburbs too. We have additional offers of loans from three more councils, and Steffan has been promised support from the North American Wolf Federation. We have all been busy since we last talked, Arianna. If you had but asked, we could have been watching for these bounty hunters.”

“Yeah, that dawned on me last night.” She sighed. “You aren’t the only person who thinks I’m much too independent.”

“And has Andreas made any impression on you?”

Her gaze darted to his face. “He keeps trying.” She shifted uncomfortably. “But when all hell breaks loose…I just take care of it.”

“You’re expected to, but a heads up before it turns critical would be nice. You have friends and the resources of the Magic Council. Use them.” He stood, signaling the meeting was over. “The next time we have hired killers flooding our city, I expect to hear it from you and not my court clerk.”

Ari grimaced. “Understood, sir.”

“By the way, I want to see all your reports from now on.”

Well, damn. No more sneaking them in after deadline. Some days life just sucked.

* * *

Before Ari left the Magic Hall, she had one more stop on the wing where the council reps had their offices. Steffan was just arriving.

“What are you doing here so early?” His golden brown eyes assessed her. “More trouble?”

“Not yet. The wizard wanted to talk to me about the bounty hunters.”

The redheaded werewolf leader quirked a look at her. “You should have told us.”

“Yeah, that’s what he said. Honestly, with everything else going on… Don’t any of the reps read my reports?”

The corners of his mouth lifted. “Not until Thursday night.” Council meetings to discuss events and approve reports were held every Friday morning.

Relieved Steffan wasn’t annoyed with her, she leaned against the door frame. She’d been friends with him for eight years. They’d worked together and fought together, even dated for a while. “I stopped by your office because I’d like for you to pass the word that I appreciated last night.” She cleared her throat. “We were in a tight spot, and your people made the difference.”

His face turned serious. “So I heard. We protect our friends, Ari. Don’t forget that next time.” He sat on the edge of his desk. “Have you heard anymore from the O-Seven? You know we’ll back you in that fight too.”

“I’m not sure they’re coming to Riverdale. At least not yet.” She told him what Daron had reported.

“Curious message.” Steffan smoothed back his reddish curls and gave her a thoughtful frown. “If Bastian were a wolf, I’d say he was seeking allies. But a vampire? I don’t know what he has in mind.”

“Allies?” Ari snorted. “Can you imagine us trusting the O-Seven?”

“No, but I didn’t mean the entire council of seven. Just Bastian, and maybe the other one—Porbius? Could there be a split within the elders?”

“Not Porbius for sure.” Ari’s mouth dropped open. “There’s been no hint of a split. What gave you the idea?”

“Isn’t Bastian the same elder who befriended Andreas?”

“Befriended is much too strong a word. Especially since he must have been part of the psychic attack on Andreas.”

“An attack which you defeated. That’s got to have shaken them. Maybe Bastian’s decided you’d make a better friend than an enemy.”

“We outran the attack,” she corrected. “Daron has warned us repeatedly that Bastian is no one’s friend. I believe him. Besides, Bastian’s one of the most arrogant jerks I’ve met. I’d rather trust a rattlesnake.”

Steffan’s phone rang, and he made an apologetic face as he reached to answer it.

Ari waved a casual hand and left him to it. While she was in the building, she might as well get some work done. She walked down the hallway to her office. But the conversation with Steffan had gotten her thinking, and she spent the rest of the morning wondering what Bastian and/or the elders wanted.

Was this just another attempt to gain control of the Toronto court? Maybe they’d offer to withdraw the bounty in return. She sighed. Unacceptable deal. But how long could she and Andreas go on like this before friends, or even innocent bystanders, began to die?

* * *

Ari left her office around midafternoon, stopped by the lab to let Henry know the spell had worked like…well, like magic…and then went home early. She expected they’d hear from Daron today. Since the oldest or most powerful vampires could be up before the sun went down, Daron and Andreas would both be awake by now. She didn’t want to miss their discussion.

She punched in the security numbers for the new front door, stepped inside, and met Andreas coming down the stairs.

“I sensed you coming.” He put an arm around her. “I imagine you are as interested as I am to talk with Daron. Shall we call him from the study? Afterward we can make out in front of the fire.”

She lifted her head for a quick kiss. “I love being married to you.”

His devastating smile emerged. “Likewise. How was your day?”

“Everyone was kind of annoyed I didn’t call out the cavalry about the bounty hunters, but other than that, it was good.”

They entered the study and Andreas flipped the switch on the fireplace. When the artificial flames appeared, he sat on the couch next to the landline phone, pulled her onto his lap and punched in Daron’s number. The prince’s deep voice came on the line, and Andreas asked him what had been decided.

“The consensus is to invite them to sit down with us, but I have to tell you, I am nervous about this.”

Ari’s eyes locked on Andreas. Nervous? A vampire several centuries old was having an attack of nerves? Should she and Andreas be hiding out in South America?

“It is a risky step,” Andreas agreed. “But is something in particular bothering you?”

“Bastian is the only reason the O-Seven hasn’t come after me. Now the man himself is coming here. If he has changed his mind, he could kill us instantly with his skill in mind control.”

Ari popped to her feet and leaned over the speaker phone. “Both of you? How? He couldn’t hope to control two powerful master vampires at the same time.”

“He would not have to control us, Arianna.” Andreas took her hand and tugged on it until she looked at him. “He could overload our mental shields, break them, which would destroy our minds. Remember the discussion in Germany? The elders discussed the fact that breaking your shield would be fatal.”

“Yes, I remember.” Her heart pounded. She pulled her hand away and crossed the room. “So how do we prevent this? If you don’t know, then you can’t possibly invite the elders. It would be suicide.”

Andreas leaned back on the couch and crossed his legs. “Now where have I heard that kind of argument before?”

She opened her mouth for a sharp retort, then put her hand over it. He was right. She swallowed hard. Her fear was talking, feeding her instinct to protect him. She couldn’t make decisions for him. She looked at him a long moment, then returned to his side and sat down.

“What’s going on?” Daron’s voice said from the speaker. “Are you two having a fight?”

“No, everything’s fine.” Ari rephrased her concerns. “I’m wondering how we can minimize the risks.”

Andreas’s lips curved into a quick smile. He leaned forward again, rested his hand on her knee, and spoke into the phone. “This will take careful planning. Do you have a time frame in mind?”

“We need to move before they change their minds or make alternate plans. Let’s say we meet three days from now. Seventy-two hours. I will issue the invitation tonight.”

Ari sucked in her breath, but didn’t say anything. So soon. They’d have to work fast. She began running through her list of spells and potions, anything that might block a vampire’s psychic powers. As soon as they were off the phone, she’d start looking through her books. And she’d call the lab to see if Henry had another miracle in his caldrons.

She didn’t realize Andreas had ended the call until he stood and pulled her up with him. “Let us find a bottle of wine, and you can tell me what devious schemes are bouncing around in your head.”

“I want coffee, and how about bringing it in here at the conference table? We need room to spread out both Books of Shadows.”

He tilted his head. “I guess being a warlock means I have to do research, huh?” He hooked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. “Very well. I will get the drinks. You get the books.”

Ari raced up the stairs and opened the old trunk in the Chantilly Suite. It held her family keepsakes and magical items, including the Calin Family Book of Shadows. She picked up the red leather book and set it beside her. Preparing to close the lid, she noticed the box holding her parents’ jewelry, including their rings, and flipped it open.

Her mother’s rings were small and delicate. One of them was an emerald, which her mother had said would be perfect for Ari since it would match her eyes. Ari smiled and put it back in the box. She was afraid it would be damaged if she wore it. Maybe one day she’d pass it on to a niece.

The large masculine ring with the red-orange stone had belonged to her father. A carnelian, Great-Gran had said. Ari frowned, trying to remember what else Great-Gran had told her. Something about its protective properties against vampires. She set it aside with the Book and dug deeper in the trunk for her booklet on magical stones. Finding it, she ran her finger down the pages until she found what she was looking for.

Carnelian is a protective stone, sometimes used as a talisman against psychic attack and for mental shielding.

Perfect. It certainly couldn’t hurt.

She closed the trunk, gathered her items, retrieved Andreas’s Book of Shadows from the master bedroom and ran downstairs. He was waiting on the couch, his long legs stretched out before him as he stared pensively into the fire. He held a glass of Chianti in one hand, but set it down when she walked in. He rose to meet her.

“I have ordered dinner to be brought from the club at 7:00, but I didn’t want you to get hungry in the meantime.” He waved at the table where she saw a plate of cheese, crackers, and fruit. “I knew you wouldn’t interrupt your research to leave for a proper meal.”

She plopped the books on the table. “Great idea. Thanks.” She turned to him, a little hesitantly. “I found something in my family trunk that I want you to have.”

“Arianna, I have you. I do not need your family mementos.”

“This one you might. It was my father’s and protects against psychic attacks.” She opened her hand and showed him the carnelian ring. “My father wore it on a chain, and you might prefer that too. But I’d like you to wear it one way or the other. For me?”

His gaze softened. “Cara mia, sometimes you leave me speechless.” He drew her into his arms. “I would be honored.”

“I know a stone can’t protect you against Bastian, but it might help,” she murmured into his shirt.

“The thought is worth even more.”

Ari stepped back and laid the ring in his hand. “I’ll feel better knowing you have it.” She waved a hand toward the table. “Shall we get started now?”

Andreas examined the ring, turning it over in his palm, then slipped it on his right hand. “I have the perfect chain upstairs, but for now it seems to fit my finger well.”

Watching him, Ari smiled. She’d focused on the ring’s protective qualities and hadn’t realized how much it would please him. To think there was a time when she believed vampires had no feelings.

Three cups of coffee and half a bottle of wine later, a knock at the door announced dinner had arrived, and they took a break from the books.

Lilith had accompanied the waiter. “I heard you guys were researching. Found anything yet?”

Ari got up and stretched. “Nothing helpful, but it’s always interesting. I keep getting distracted by the past adventures of my family.” She glanced at Andreas just closing his book. “From his total silence for the past hour, I think he’s having the same problem.”

“It is absorbing.” He got to his feet. “Will you stay and eat with us, Lilith? In fact, I need to step out to call Gabriel. He is working on some additional fortifications for the compound.”

Ari gave him a quizzical look.

“Electrical wave technology,” he said. “A vampire court in Belgium claims they have successfully used it to block the O-Seven’s psychic powers.”

“Sounds too good to be true,” Ari said.

He shrugged. “I have my doubts about their theory. I want to see if the demonstration has been installed.”

“By all means check. It would be awesome if it works.”

He frowned. “A big if.” He waved toward the table. “Please, Lilith, have a seat. They always send twice as much as Arianna will eat.”

“Yes, I know that.” Lilith plunked down at the table. “Why do you think I came right over? You ordered steak and lobster.”

Ari peered doubtfully at the domed plates the waiter was setting on the table. Andreas had been on a campaign to introduce her to new food choices. Left on her own, she would have stuck to cheeseburgers and fries. She lifted the first cover and dropped it back on the lobster.

She gave Andreas a baleful eye. “It looked back at me.”

“Just try it. Then you can eat the steak.” He walked out chuckling.

The women split up the meal—Lilith took most of the lobster—and they had barely started eating when Andreas returned.

“The installation should be complete in another half hour, then we can test it.” He pulled out a chair and sat down, a perplexed frown on his face. “It is not clear to me what we will find. I asked Gabriel to describe it, and all he said was it seemed rather…futuristic.”

* * *

“Futuristic is one word for it.” Ari pivoted around in the middle of the small room. Every wall, the ceiling, and the floor were lined with lighted tubes emitting an eerie green glow. She reached out with her magic, but felt no dynamic energy field, nothing more than might be produced by a light bulb or two.

Andreas stood frozen in place. His two lieutenants and Lilith, who’d begged to come with them, were equally stunned.

Andreas lifted a brow at the technician standing behind him. “Do you honestly believe this will work?”

The man shifted his feet, showing his discomfort. “I haven’t seen it in action, but I was assured by the company that it worked.”

“Uh-huh.” Andreas was clearly unhappy, and the man edged toward the door. “We will test it. But if it doesn’t work, I want you to remove every single piece of it. Tonight.”

“Yes, I’ll do that. Always want the customers to be happy.” The ferret-faced man continued to back away, throwing a glance at the doorway.

“Yes, fine. Wait outside, please. Oliver, would you accompany our friend and guarantee he stays around to dismantle this?”

Oliver put on his don’t-mess-with-me face. “Come with me.” The man paled, but followed him out.

“You didn’t have to scare him to death,” Ari said.

“Was I doing that?” Andreas glanced toward the door. “I daresay he will get over it. Have you ever seen anything like this?” His hand made an arc of the room.

“I can’t say I have.”

Lilith couldn’t contain her laughter any longer. She snorted loudly.

Gabriel grinned. “Pretty awful, isn’t it?”

“It reminds me of some mad scientist’s lab,” Lilith chortled.

Andreas shook his head. “Well, let us see if by some miracle the thing works. I will step outside and close the door. If it works, it should block out any flow of magic.” He nodded at Ari. “See if you can pick me up on the link.”

The door closed with a click. Ari opened the psychic gate that allowed them to communicate telepathically. Andreas’s voice in her head was loud and clear.

“Are you laughing yet? It seemed worth a try, but this is ridiculous.”

She suppressed a chuckle. “I think the alien conspiracists would love it.”

“You are laughing.”

“Not much.”

Andreas walked in, put a hand on her back, and urged her toward the door. “Let’s go. We need to leave the technician plenty of time to remove this thing.”

She peeked up at him, assessing his mood. “Look at the bright side. We all needed a break from research…and a good laugh.”

He looked at her, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Witch.”

* * *

The most positive note in their evening of research was Jacob’s call from the library shortly after 9:00. He’d found a copy of the Maleficus in the original Latin. The French museum would dispatch it within the hour by international priority mail service, and it should arrive in Riverdale within thirty-six hours.

Keyed up by all the coffee and this latest news, Ari found it impossible to concentrate on her reading. She wasn’t convinced it was possible to find a spell or potion that could withstand the elders’ mental abilities. She pushed away from the table and crossed to the couch, laying down on her stomach and propping her chin with one hand. She sighed, watching the fire as if some great idea might be revealed by the flames.

Jacob’s call had brought her attention back to her bound powers, and that anything else they might do would be less effective unless she could free them. How could she face the elders without her fire magic? It was the great leveler, her one ace in the hole.

“Tired?” Andreas’s voice rolled across her like a caress.

“I guess.” She heard his chair scrape as he came to join her.

He sat on the edge of the couch and rubbed her back. “You should go to bed and worry about this tomorrow. It will not help anything if you exhaust yourself.”

Ari’s shoulder muscles began to relax. His touch felt so good. “If I go up to bed, will you come with me?”

His hands stilled for a moment, then resumed a gentle massage across her shoulders. “Do I detect a renewed surge of energy?” His voice held a hint of amusement.

“Maybe.” She lazily rolled over. “In case I do, I’d like for you to be there.”

* * *

“Ari! Ari. Wake up!” The shouting was accompanied by insistent pounding on the bedroom door.

She bolted out of bed and flung it open. “What’s the matter?”

Cedric, one of the vampires of Andreas’s lineage, frowned, clearly agitated. “I’m not quite clear on that, but Andreas called from the club saying he was on his way home and I was to get you up. There’s been a summons from Zylla.”

Zylla? Why would the vampiress need to talk with them so urgently? Unless she’d had another vision. Of something awful. Ari’s stomach knotted. “I’ll get dressed.”

She slammed the door and was pulling on her boots by the time Andreas arrived. “Do you know what she wants? Why all the urgency?” Ari stomped her heel to push the boot in place as she stood.

“I don’t know.” He grabbed her hand. “She has never done this before.”

They hustled down the stairs, snatched their coats at the entrance and hurried into the cold night. Ari spent the entire trip imagining catastrophes that might have resulted in Zylla demanding their immediate presence. Death, invasion by the O-Seven? Since Andreas didn’t say much, she assumed he was envisioning his own horrors.

When they reached the entrance to Zylla’s cave, Ari froze in the doorway. Instead of sitting in her customary place by the fire, Zylla paced back and forth, muttering to herself, and the werejavey Mangi perched on a nearby ledge watching her. He looked terrified.

Andreas pushed past Ari and took Zylla’s hands, stopping her frantic movements. “You are distraught, wise woman. Please sit. Tell us what has disturbed you.”

She clutched his arm. “The city is burning, people running, screaming. Raptors, werebears, hell hounds. Death. You and Arianna…dying.” She shuddered.

He stared at the old woman face. “Arianna, help me with her.”

His words prodded Ari into action. She gathered Zylla’s shawl from the floor and placed it around her shoulders, then helped Andreas lead her toward the pallet by the fire. “Mangi, can you get her some tea?”

Zylla took a deep, shaky breath and appeared to get a hold of herself. “I am sorry. Forgive an old woman’s frailty. I have not seen such blood and destruction since the war.”

Ari swallowed her rising fear. In the past Zylla had painted graphic word pictures of the atrocities committed during the early vampire-witch wars. Dismemberments, blood draining, the charred villages left behind. To have such a thing happen to Riverdale…

Mangi brought the tea. Zylla took a sip and rolled it around in her mouth before she spoke. “Thank you, Mangi. Again, my apologies to you all. But the future I have seen is so terrible we must do whatever is required to avoid it.” She speared Andreas with a pointed look, then Ari, and emphasized it with her finger. “It depends on you. And you. The vision could have more than one ending, but you are the key. If you cannot prevent it, the burning and ravaging will occur. A week or two, possibly a year, but it will happen.”

“So soon.” Ari stared at her. “What do we have to do to stop it?”

The vampiress shook her head. “I do not know how, but you both need all your powers.”

Now it was Andreas who began pacing. “Zylla, we have had this conversation before. Arianna and I are doing our best. A copy of the Maleficus has been found, so we might have the spell words, but we haven’t the ability to invoke the counterspell to return Ari’s fire magic.”

Zylla sharpened her gaze on him. “Together you do. If you can control your warlock powers.”

“Do you not realize I have tried?” His eyes flashed. “I cannot develop the control in days or even weeks that is already inherent in the family heirlooms.” He raked his hair. “I do not know where else to look for them. Perhaps, if there was time, I could go back to Italy, check everything in the house again.”

“Maybe dig up your great-great grandfather’s grave,” Ari said darkly. “Why the hell didn’t he pass them to you?”

Andreas sighed. “It does not matter why. The truth is…he didn’t.”

“I may be able to tell you what they are, but finding them…” Zylla’s gaze swung to Ari, “may be up to you.”

“Me? But how?”

“In one image I saw you holding something.”

Both Andreas and Ari moved closer to her.

“Holding what?” Andreas demanded.

“A man’s silver ring with a green stone, and a wand that sparkles in the light.”

“The ring sounds like one of the family emeralds.” He pursed his lips in thought. “There is one missing. Now that I think about it, it was the ring Fredrico always wore. Perhaps he intended for it to be returned to the vault with the rest of the collection, but it was stolen or mislaid at the time of his death.”

“A ring and a wand.” Ari sank to her knees next to Zylla. “Objects so small could have fallen down a crack or been carried away by a thief. I don’t know where to start looking.”

“Start at the beginning. The last known place they were seen.”

“Italy. When Fredrico died in 1813.” Andreas shrugged. “We have checked in the guest wing already, but I will make the call immediately. Perhaps knowing what they are looking for will help their search.”

“You might have only days to reverse this vision.” Her eyes rested on Ari again. “I continue to believe that you are the answer, my child.”

“What do you expect me to do? Go to Italy? Dig up the entire estate?” Ari’s face flushed, and she suppressed a scream of denial. This couldn’t be up to her. It wasn’t fair. Her magic churned. How could Zylla say it was her responsibility but not tell her what to do?

“Arianna.” Andreas put his steady hands on her shoulders. “We have work to do. If Zylla believes there is a way to avoid the catastrophe she has seen, then we must try to figure this out.”

Ari nodded mutely and got to her feet while Andreas said their good-byes. She’d gone from furious to numb in the last few seconds and was trying to come to terms with what they’d been told.

She looked at Mangi when he touched her arm.

“You saved me, found me a home. You can do this too.”

She looked blankly at him, then offered a faint smile. “I hope you’re becoming a prophet, Mangi. I’ll do my best.”

Their walk through the tunnels on the way back to the surface was mostly silent. She and Andreas both seemed lost in thought. As they reached a fork in the path, Ari stopped. “Is this the way to Spirit Cave?”

“It is.”

“I’d like to take a detour.”

He gave her a worried frown. “You are not thinking of harnessing its power for spell casting, are you?”

“Of course not, but I’m getting another idea.”

“What kind of idea?”

His suspicious tone brought a wisp of a smile to her face. “I’ll tell you when we get there.”

At the entrance to the Chamber of Ages, two vampires came forward to challenge their identity. Because of the secrets within the adjacent Spirit Cave, the area was guarded 24/7—by the vampires at night, and by security from the Magic Council by day.

Andreas and Ari crossed to the restricted tunnel. Less than a minute later they climbed through the opening of Spirit Cave and dropped the two feet to the floor. Ari kept her flashlight off, staring at the spectacular sight that never failed to move her. Two greenish-white ley lines, resembling magical glow sticks, crossed about six inches above the surface, creating a pulsing center of swirling energy. A vortex. A place where time stood still and dimensions came together.

The pale, multi-colored lights in the vortex were mesmerizing, drawing her in. Her magic responded, urging her to move closer. Did she dare? Did she dare not?

Andreas’s arms came around her. “What are you thinking?”

“Something crazy. You remember what the vortex can do?”

“Yes,” he said cautiously. “That is why it is guarded. To avoid unauthorized dimensional and time travel.”

“Unauthorized is the key word. But what if I obtain permission to go back in time and retrieve your heirlooms?”

His arms tightened. “You cannot be serious. Please, tell me you are not.”

“I think I am.” She pushed him toward the entrance. “Come on. Let’s get out of here and talk about it.”

“What are the risks involved?” He boosted her through the cave opening.

“Getting permanently lost in time,” she said over her shoulder.

“Oh, is that all. Then nothing to worry about.” He became more concerned, his questions more pointed as they wound through the tunnels and approached the exit from the caverns.

“I suppose a lot of other things could go wrong, but I could stay here and get hit by a car.”

“Do you even know how to do this? Do you know anyone who has?”

“Well, no.” She stopped as they reached the narrow cliff paths and pulled up her hood. “Geez, it’s snowing again. I haven’t done it, but I know the mechanics, the theories, the spells. I know how to trigger the vortex and set the travel timer. And I know the risks of altering time.”

He studied her, his eyes dark with worry. “You are arguing yourself straight into this, aren’t you?”

“It’s making sense. I have the training.” She grabbed both of his hands. “Don’t set your heart and mind against it, not yet. It’s almost dawn, and we don’t have time to discuss the details. I’ll take the idea to the Magic Council while you’re sleeping. If they think it’s possible and give their OK, then we’ll talk it over tonight. But this could be the only choice we have.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Ari didn’t make it back to bed. Instead, she put the coffee pot on and spent the last hours of the night reading the section on time travel in the Calin family Book of Shadows. At 7:00, she headed for the lab and spent the morning consulting with its conjurers and historians. At noon she presented her case to the Magic Council president, and he called an emergency meeting of the seven-member executive council.

Ari stood at the end of the conference table and brought them up to date on Zylla’s visions and the current events—emphasizing the proposed visit of the O-Seven—that gave credence to her prophecy. She followed that with a demonstration of her knowledge of the dangers inherent in changing history and how to avoid them. Finally, she recited the appropriate methods to manipulate time, starting with the triggering spell and ending with the ritual to get her back home.

“What happens if the spell goes wrong and you get stuck in 1813?” The questioner was Narton, the dwarf representative and representative-at-large to the executive council.

Ari forced down a wave of apprehension and kept her voice calm, matter-of-fact. “I could try again every year at the same appointed time, but I would have to live totally in that century without revealing any knowledge of the future. I believe I could do that most effectively by living in Spain, a country I know little about. I would be less likely to make an inadvertent reference to their future history.”

“You seem to have thought a lot about this.” Steffan studied her. “What does Andreas say? Will you go against his wishes?”

Ari couldn’t tell whether the werewolf leader was for or against her plans. “I’ve thought about nothing else for the last seven hours. Andreas and I haven’t finished talking, but he knows what’s at stake. If Zylla is correct, this is what I have to do.”

“The truth of the prophecy isn’t totally dependent on Zylla.” The wizard’s voice grabbed everyone’s attention. This was the first time he’d spoken since opening the meeting. “Our own seers have seen warning signs. Not as dramatic as the vampiress’s vision, but nonetheless concerning. I am inclined to believe that we are indeed at peril.”

“But is this trip the answer?” It was Narton again. “Even if we ignore the obvious risks to Ms. Calin, the risk of changing history has to be considered.” He addressed Ari directly. “I appreciate your willingness to go, but I need some reassurance that we won’t be taking this risk for nothing. If you succeed in bringing back the magic items, will they defeat the O-Seven?”

Ari spread her hands. “I can’t guarantee that. But I believe we don’t have a chance without them.”

A heavy silence followed her words, until the wizard cleared his throat and called for the vote. Ari turned to leave so the decision could be made in private, but the wizard stopped her.

“Arianna, please stay. This is a critical choice, and history will hold each of us accountable. Since you have proposed taking on this task, you deserve to witness the vote.” He switched his attention to the executive members, his bushy white brows lowering. “I sincerely wish there was time for all forty members of the Magic Council to be polled, but that would take days, which we don’t have. The issue before you is clear: Do we grant Ms. Calin permission for time travel to the year 1813 for the purposes previously stated.” He scanned the faces around the table. “Consider your conscience, choose wisely. I will have your votes now.”

Permission was granted: seven to zero. The wizard announced the lab would immediately begin working on the coordinates to put her in Italy a week or ten days prior to the death of Fredrico Valvano on June 9, 1813.

* * *

Ari sat in the study at home, watching the clock. 2:45 p.m. Not long now.

At 3:05 she felt the surge of power as Andreas woke.

At 3:15 he appeared in the doorway. Long, lean, immaculate in a black Armani shirt and jeans. His eyes were hooded, unreadable.

“You are going.”

“I think I should.”

“Then the Magic Council gave their approval.” He still didn’t move from the doorway.

“Unanimously.” She stood and searched his face.

He walked slowly toward her and stopped only inches away. His eyes sought hers. “I want to ask you not to do this. But neither of us has much choice. I wish it were otherwise, but that does not make it so.”

She took a step forward, and he wrapped her in his arms, resting his head against her hair. “Come back to me,” he whispered.

“Always.” She barely breathed the word, but he sighed.

He finally released her and walked over to stand before the fire. “When will you leave?”

“As soon as possible. But there’s no way I can be back by the time the elders come on Friday. I need time to prepare. The earliest I could leave would be late tomorrow and the return will be set at least forty-eight hours from there. The coordinates are never exact, and we can’t afford to overshoot on either end.”

He frowned. “Didn’t you tell me that time within the portal works differently?”

“It does. I could be there hours, days or weeks in 1813 time, whatever it takes to find the heirlooms, but when I return here, it will be at whatever time we’ve preprogrammed. Most likely on Saturday.”

“If you can preprogram the time, why not return Friday or even Thursday, the same night you leave?”

“The forty-eight hour window can’t be shortened. If we overshot the date, I’d be stuck in the future at least days or weeks ahead of you. Think of it as a ring on a target. The forty-eight hours would give us a bigger ring to hit than just an hour or two. Research has calculated it as the minimum period that gives the highest odds of success.”

His frown deepened. “This is beginning to sound more risky all the time.”

She went to him and put her head on his shoulder. His arm circled her waist. “I’m not going to lie and tell you I’m not scared. It is risky. That’s why we have to follow the guidelines.”

His arm tightened. “I am all for whatever will bring you back in one piece. If you leave tomorrow, then I will too. I’ll send the plane back so you can join us on Saturday or Sunday.”

“Can you stall things enough for my trip to make a difference? By Saturday, the elders will have been in Toronto for twenty-four hours, and I’d still have a three-hour flight to Toronto before I could get you the heirlooms. What if they start something on Friday?”

“That will be my problem. And Daron’s.”

She started to protest, but he placed a finger across her lips. “You have your task. I have mine.” He took a step back so that he could take a look at her. “You will need different clothes. You cannot appear in 1813 wearing jeans, T-shirts, and designer boots.”

“Nice change of subject, but I get your point. I’ll get Claris to help me. I have to tell her anyway. You know, in case something weird were to happen.” She left the rest unsaid. No reason to state the obvious again.

“You need to tell Ryan too.”

“I know, and he’s not going to like it.” She looked up and coquettishly batted her eyes. “I don’t suppose you’d tell him for me?”

Andreas laughed, a rich sound that warmed her heart. “Not bloody likely. You have to fight that battle by yourself. Why don’t you talk with both of them today? It will save you time tomorrow. I will be busy making my own arrangements for the club and the court. What would you think if I took Gabriel with me and left Oliver in command?”

Ari’s eyes flew to his face. “Oliver would do a fine job, but why? Are you concerned about Gabriel’s handling of things while you were kidnapped last fall?”

Andreas looked surprised. “Not at all. He is very good in social situations. He has much more patience with protocol than I. If Bastian and Porbius are intent on trouble, we may need Gabriel’s skills to head off a confrontation.”

“You’re so clever.” She pulled his head down and kissed him. “Then I’ll see you for dinner at 7:00?”

“Seven it is. Try not to be late. If I am not to see you for two days, I insist on some quality time with my wife tonight. Does that meet with your approval?”

“It’s a date.”

* * *

Ryan didn’t take it well, but Ari hadn’t expected him to. He didn’t understand the magical concepts involved, so she skipped the details. It was sufficient that he knew she was attempting a magical trip to the past, and there was a small chance that she wouldn’t make it back.

“I didn’t want to just disappear and have you turning over every rock in an attempt to find me.” Ari shrugged, trying to keep it casual, but he wouldn’t meet her eye. She forged ahead. “If I’m not back at the prearranged time, then I won’t be back.”

He got quiet after that. She promised to call with her return schedule, but the huge gaps of silence became awkward. Ryan’s voice was suspiciously gruff when they parted.

From the police station Ari turned west toward the restored 1800s tourist district with its brick streets, electrified gas lanterns, and hitching posts. She stopped to peer in a store window, debated if the vintage dress on display would be appropriate for 1800 Italy, and went inside to talk with the proprietor. After inspecting the dress, Ari glanced at the clock, saw it was almost closing time and realized she’d been stalling for thirty minutes. She told the shop owner she’d be back tomorrow and hurried out the door.

Claris’s Basil & Sage herbal shop nestled among other quaint stores on the second block. The bell tingled merrily over the forest-green door, but the young woman who looked up from arranging a basket of dried herbs was anything but merry. Ari hurried toward her, disturbed to see that Claris had been crying.

“Oh, honey. What’s gotten you so down today? Too many memories again?”

“Not this time.” Claris shook her head, the long braid of her light brown hair shifting on her shoulder. “I know why you’ve come to see me. Ryan told me.”

Ari’s mouth dropped open. Why would Ryan have called her?

“Don’t look like he did something wrong,” Claris said. “He wasn’t tattling on you. He thought I knew.”

“Goddess, I’m sorry. I made a stop on the way. I never thought…” She folded Claris in a hug. “It’s going to be fine. I promise I’ll be back on Saturday.”

She was making a lot of promises. She hoped she’d be able to keep them.

“Right now, I need your help to find clothes that are appropriate to wear in 1813. Even though I’m going to pose as an American visiting Italy, Andreas says I can’t wear my jeans.” She smiled coaxingly at Claris. “Help me? I suppose cutoffs and miniskirts are out too.”

Claris sniffed and rolled her eyes. “You’ll really be back Saturday?”

“Yep. So, see? That’s not so bad. I’ll only be gone forty-eight hours. But I’m leaving tomorrow, so I need a wardrobe, like right now.”

Claris gave her a critical once over. “We’ll have to do something with your hair, too. I may have a dress or two that I wear for the shop that would work, if we raise the hem.”

“I saw a dress in a window down the street,” Ari said.

“Excellent.” Her tears forgotten, Claris threw herself into the new project. By the time they’d drawn up a list of things to do in the morning, Ari had to hurry home to meet Andreas for dinner.

* * *

He was late. Andreas was never late.

She twisted her rings, took another sip of wine, and glanced out the window again. Where was he? She’d checked their telepathic link for any sense of trouble. Nothing felt wrong, so she waited. At 7:20 she opened the telepathic link.

“Where are you?”

“Look out the front window.”

She pulled back the drape in time to see him vault over the wrought iron fence. She smiled and met him at the door. “Is there some reason you don’t use the gate?”

“I was in a hurry.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Sorry to be late, but I was with Zylla.”

Ari’s heart leaped into her throat. “Has something more happened?”

“No, no, cara mia. I was taking witchcraft lessons.”

She calmed her over-active imagination and lightened her tone. “Not satisfied with my teaching methods, huh?” She was secretly delighted he’d taken the initiative.

He gave her a rueful look. “She is a harsh taskmaster, who gives no quarter. You, on the other hand, love me. And indulge me.” He took her arm, and they moved toward the study. “I have much to learn in a very short time. The Maleficus has been found; you are taking a great risk to retrieve the heirlooms. Considering everyone else’s efforts, I must be ready. After we get you to sleep,” he cocked his head suggestively, “I plan to practice with her the rest of the night. The things you taught me are starting to come together. I have finally accepted that I can, and must, master them.”

She fought against a grin. “Harsh taskmaster? If I’d known that would work, I might have scrounged up a whip and chains.”

“Not exactly Zylla’s style.” He gave her a sideways look. “I could envision you in the role, but it would be entirely too…distracting.”

“Really?” She tilted her head to consider him. “Would you enjoy that?”

He laughed, pulling her closer. “I do not need any role-playing to enhance my interest in you.”

* * *

Ari slept fitfully that night. Tension perhaps. Early the next morning, she called into the Magic Council to talk about the final details. Tom Bodie was in town, so her regular duties were covered. The lab had come up with an ideal departure time of 7:12 p.m., based on complicated calculations. Her return would be scheduled for forty-eight hours later, Saturday, 7:12 p.m. Her actual arrival should be within minutes of that, either direction. They’d have the coordinates waiting for her.

After hanging up, she slipped into the master bedroom to sit on the edge of the bed as Andreas slept. What would happen to him, to them, to Riverdale and everything they knew in the next two or three days? Would she see him again after tonight? Would she be stranded in 1813? Even worse, would she make a mistake that would change time and wipe out all this? She leaned over him and brushed her lips against his dark curls. Then she left the room.

She spent most of the day with Claris. They shopped, Claris sewed, and as a last touch, they styled Ari’s hair. First, they dyed it dark brown. Although she was posing as an American girl, she would stand out less among the Italian population if her hair was dark. Then Claris braided most of it, leaving loose curls to dangle around her face, and wound the braid on top of Ari’s head. She anchored it in place with an old-fashioned hair comb, and they’d purchased two spares for her to take. If she was in Italy long enough to need to wash her hair, she could always pile it on top unbraided by using the combs.

They’d decided on three basic dresses, very similar, with long skirts that covered her ankles. Two in white cotton with empire waistlines; one pale green with a regular waistline and white trim. To add variety, they’d chosen four shawls, two cameo necklaces and two pairs of white gloves. Claris had also discovered a ladies parasol in a costume shop. Everything, including two pairs of flats, one white, one black, fit into a nondescript brown woven bag. Ari hated all of the hats but finally chose a simple hair comb with a scarf attached that could be tied under her chin.

Ari stood in front of Claris’s mirror and wound a dark curl around her finger. Hair color was kind of nice, the braid was OK, but the scarf…it looked silly. She wouldn’t be using it unless necessary.

By mid-afternoon she was home with her clothes and her coordinates from the lab. As she approached the house, she pulled the hood of her coat over her head so no one would see the change in hair color until she could surprise Andreas. Once safely inside, she even took the precaution of locking her bedroom door.

Opening the bag, she added her pouch of magicks and her stiletto, but regretfully set the guns aside. Then she tried on one of the white dresses, added a blue shawl, and was studying the outfit in the mirror when Andreas knocked.

She hurried to fling the door open. “Well, what do you think of Abigail Foster?”

His mouth dropped open, and he stared at her as if he’d seen a ghost.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you like it?”

“But I do. Very much.”

He’d recovered, and the emotion that had flashed through his eyes was gone. Maybe she’d been mistaken, because he seemed fine now. “Are you sure? Not that I’m trying to impress anyone, but I do want to look appropriate. Will I pass for 1800s or not?”

“Definitely. You remind me so much of the young ladies in my youth it is astonishing.”

“Claris and I picked the name Abigail, and we borrowed Ryan’s last name.”

“Good choices.”

He still looked at her a little strangely, but it was probably the hair. She patted her dark curls. The color changed her entire appearance.

Since she planned to dress in the caverns rather than wear a long skirt through the snow-covered streets, she changed back to jeans and packed the clothes in the bag. She and Andreas spent the next hours talking, sometimes about his trip to Toronto, but mostly about life in Italy in 1813.

“Will I recognize the food?” she asked.

Andreas laughed. “Not if you are expecting pizza or cheeseburgers and fries. Fish, stews, roasted vegetables, pasta. Lots of wine. It has not changed that dramatically.” They sat on the couch in the study, his arm lying casually across her shoulders. His fingers absently played with a strand of her hair. “You will do fine. Just follow the lead of others.”

“Easy for you to say since you’ve lived there.” She sat up straight, a hand going over her mouth. “Will you be there? I mean, the other you?”

He hesitated. “I was in Italy at the time Fredrico died, although I frequently traveled to the cities on one type of business or another.”

She leaned back again. “I don’t suppose you’d remember after two hundred years, but I wonder if we saw each other. I mean, will I meet you?” She frowned and studied her hands. “So tell me what I should know about Fredrico. What was he like?”

Andreas seemed lost in thought for a moment. “Do you remember that his portrait hangs in the staircase?”

“I stopped and studied it earlier, so that I’d recognize him. Dark hair, dark eyes. You resemble him a lot.”

“Not when he was a hundred and five. White hair, white beard, stooped shoulders. In the last year or two he didn’t walk well, and if I recall correctly, his tongue had grown sharp.” Andreas smiled faintly. “He was an admirable man, almost a father to Luis and me after our father died. He had a wooden wheelchair, an odd contraption with three wheels.” Andreas tapped her shoulder to get her attention. “He enjoyed sitting in the garden. You might look for him there.”

She scooted around so she could see his face. “I’ve been wondering how I could meet him. Would it be strange for me to be out for a walk and say hello?”

“It would be unusual so far out in the countryside. But since you are from America, they would not be surprised to see a bit of odd behavior. I think that might work, if you can find no better way.”

“Good. One less worry.” She looked at the clock on the wall. 6:00 p.m. Her stomach churned. “We should go, so I have time to change.”

He bent forward to kiss her lightly. “Don’t be nervous. You will handle this as you do everything else. I, on the other hand, will be eager for Saturday evening to arrive.”

“You can’t be worrying about me. You’ll have to be alert to every word, every twitch from Bastian and Porbius. I don’t trust them.”

“Nor do I. I will be cautious, my love, but I hope I am allowed to worry just a little about my wife.”

“Just a little,” she conceded.

* * *

By 7:10 p.m. Ari was dressed as a young woman of the 19th century and standing beside the vortex in Spirit Cave. She kissed Andreas one last time and slipped her wedding and engagement rings into his hand.

“Keep these safe for me. I’ll be back to reclaim them.” She grabbed her cloth bag.

His hands touched her shoulders, sending his magic racing through her body. His eyes captured hers. “I will be waiting, cara mia.”

She trembled and fought back a rush of tears. “See you soon.”

Ari turned, took a deep breath, and stepped into the swirling vortex, repeating the magic words of transition.

CHAPTER NINE

Andreas stared at the multicolored glow of the vortex, his dark eyes hooded, uncertain. Should he have told her? He shook his head once and turned away. No, that might have changed things. He climbed through the cave entrance and started toward the surface. What would happen next was destined to happen, but was that uncomfortable feeling a touch of jealousy? He gave a small chuckle. Jealous of himself? That had to be a new twist.

He pictured Arianna when they’d first met in Goshen Park—the immediate connection, a certain sense of familiarity. He had mentioned it during one of their early meetings but eventually shrugged it off as an inexplicable instance of déjà vu. But damnation. This afternoon—she’d stood there in that old-fashioned dress, the deep-brunette hair making her green eyes glow—and announced her name was Abigail. Memories had come rushing back. It might have been two hundred years ago, but those green eyes were unforgettable. Perhaps he should have recognized them earlier and made the connection, but it hadn’t occurred to him that he would see Abigail again.

He reached a hand up to pull himself to the surface of the cliff-top and took off running across the snow. What was happening with Arianna was out of his hands for at least forty-eight hours. He could not spend his time worrying how she would feel about him when she returned. A plane waited at the airport to take him to his own challenges.

Gabriel, Russell, and Lilith were seated in his private jet when he hurried aboard. Instantly barraged with questions, he assured them the time travel ritual had gone well.

“We should know on Saturday night whether the rest is successful,” he added. “For now, the best we can do is concentrate on the meeting with Bastian and Porbius.”

“I can’t believe Daron’s going to let two of the elders just walk into his compound.” Lilith had clearly had second thoughts about the risks involved. The events of Germany were too fresh in her mind.

Andreas’s response was calm, matter-of-fact. “Vampire hospitality requires it.”

“Who cares about that?” Lilith demanded.

“It’s too late to withdraw the invitation. The insult would give them an excuse for war.”

Russell put a restraining hand on his wife’s knee, and she glared at him.

Andreas ignored their silent exchange. “Arianna has arranged for the local guardian, Zoe, to be present at our meetings, and the Toronto area Magic Council is providing added protection. A local witch coven has placed the same wards around the compound that are protecting our own buildings in Riverdale.”

“But Ari didn’t think they’d be enough.” Lilith’s tone was argumentative, challenging.

Andreas suspected she was annoyed that Arianna had gone anywhere, even back in time, without her. Perhaps she’d also transferred her fierce protectiveness to making sure Andreas was in one piece when her friend returned.

He kept his response mild. “That is why other precautions have been taken. Some are behind the scenes, and we are deliberately keeping them that way, but Mike and his team of werewolf guards will be present in the room and armed with assault rifles.”

“Like swatting flies with a toothpick.”

Andreas’s mouth twitched with humor at her analogy. “Perhaps, but better than nothing.” He fingered the chain at his throat. He’d unconsciously echoed Arianna’s words when she had urged him to take the carnelian ring. “We should be grateful to Prince Daron for holding these so-called negotiations, rather than have the elders appear in Riverdale. I welcome his support and the partial immunity that his presence offers.”

“Partial immunity?” Russell asked. “From what?”

“You don’t know?” Gabriel stretched and sipped a glass of wine. “Daron has the protection of an O-Seven member. All very mysterious, but the elders have never been allowed to harm him. We can assume they won’t burn the building or cause some catastrophic collapse that might harm Daron.”

“I’m more worried about mind control,” Lilith muttered.

No one responded to her comment, and the conversation dwindled into idle talk about the arrival time in Toronto and the expected weather upon landing. Lilith pulled out a paperback book; Russell took a nap.

Lost in his own thoughts, both past and present, it was some time before Andreas noticed Gabriel had nearly finished the bottle of wine. “Are you especially thirsty tonight or is something on your mind?”

Gabriel tilted his empty glass, then frowned at the bottle. “Overcompensating, I guess. I’d hate to see the elders spread their iron-fisted regime to this continent.” He set his glass down and leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “Something’s not right. First”—he ticked off the points on his fingers—“they don’t make visits to foreign courts. They force people to come to them. Second, why Bastian and Porbius? And why the heads-up from Bastian?” He dropped his hands. “I could go on, but I tell you, Andreas, there is something weird happening.”

“Daron and I have the same concerns.” Andreas glanced toward the werelions across the cabin and lowered his voice. “What do you know of Daron’s connection to the O-Seven?”

“I know there is one, and I have my suspicions who and what it is.” Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “I haven’t asked, because it was clearly a forbidden subject. Would I be wrong to say his connection will be at this high-stakes meeting?”

Andreas sighed. “No, you would not.”

“That’s what I thought.” Gabriel settled back in his seat. “Which makes this situation even more interesting.”

Andreas bit off a laugh. “That is one way of putting it.”

The plane’s wheels touched down in Toronto, and by the time Andreas disembarked and reached Daron’s compound, safely hidden below a defunct garment factory, it was almost midnight.

The audience chambers grew silent the moment Andreas and his companions were announced.

“Ah, here they are.” Prince Daron rose from a small group of Otherworlders and extended a hand to Andreas.

Andreas clasped it firmly. “I’m sorry we kept you waiting.” Daron had been a staunch friend and ally for many years, but last fall he had offered to relinquish control of the Toronto court to the O-Seven in exchange for Andreas’s safe return from a kidnapping. This was their first face-to-face meeting since.

The Toronto prince was older than Andreas, more rugged, his straight black hair cropped in the shape of an inverted bowl, his movements more forceful than graceful. Yet he had the commanding presence of power gained through centuries of vampirism.

Andreas focused on the others assembled in the room. He shook hands with the two visiting Canadian princes, Raphael and Bolivar, and kissed the hand of the elf-witch Guardian. He winked at her, and Zoe blushed. When he’d first met her, Zoe had been girlishly enchanted with his Regency period manners, and still got flustered with overt displays of attention.

Andreas noted that Daron’s lieutenants Lucien and Carmella were not present. Daron had sent them to outlying districts until the current situation was settled. If something went wrong, Daron wanted his second-in-command to be able to assume control and keep the O-Seven from taking the court by default.

As they sat at the long table, Andreas inclined his head to acknowledge Mike, Daron’s werewolf security chief, then turned to Raphael and Bolivar. “Are you here on your own?”

“Not entirely,” Raphael said. “We represent a majority of the Canadian princes. The coalition formed when Ursula was here is intact.”

“Well, that is good news.” A small part of the weight on Andreas’s chest lifted. They had allies. He swung his attention to Daron. “Is everything in place for tomorrow night?”

“Bastian and Porbius are scheduled to leave Germany shortly before dawn our time. That should put them here tomorrow afternoon. They will be awake by the time they land, and frankly I am uneasy that they will be up and about several hours before we meet at 8:00.”

“I wouldn’t make too much of it.” Gabriel lounged back in his chair. “Porbius is known for spending hours getting ready to go anywhere, and Bastian doesn’t like to be rushed. I doubt if they could bestir themselves early enough to cause much mischief.”

“Porbius is still that vain?” Daron frowned, clearly surprised. “I thought he would outgrow such foolishness.”

“For shame, Daron.” Gabriel rubbed his fingernails on the front of his jacket as if polishing them. “Some of us just care about our appearance more than others. It takes time and effort.”

Daron guffawed. “I trust that you know their habits, having spent time in their court as recently as last year. We will set our concerns aside until they walk through the doors.”

“What happens then? What are we going to discuss with them?” Gabriel asked.

Surprised faces turned to stare at him.

Gabriel raised his palms in defense. “We did call this meeting, didn’t we? To negotiate? I assume Porbius believes it was our idea, so he’ll expect us to be making a proposal. What’s it going to be?”

“A good point. He will expect us to start.” Andreas turned to Daron. “How did you word your invitation?”

“That I had heard they were planning a trip to America, and I thought it would be beneficial for us to discuss certain issues.” Daron lifted a casual shoulder. “I kept it vague.”

“We could put it back in their lap by asking why they were making the trip,” Raphael suggested.

Bolivar’s brows met across his scowling forehead. “Or we can simply tell them they aren’t welcome here. That the O-Seven isn’t recognized as having any authority over us.” A year ago, the O-Seven’s enforcer Ursula had savagely attacked two of the Canadian vampire compounds, including Bolivar’s.

“I like the way he thinks,” Lilith declared.

“I am afraid what we would like to do and what we should do are far apart on this occasion.” Daron’s gaze swept the circle. “I am not interested in starting World War III if we can stop it.”

Andreas steepled his fingers. “While in theory I agree, I am not certain we can avoid a confrontation. The elders have provoked the first skirmish.” He narrowed his eyes. “I assume you are aware of recent events in Riverdale and the warlock’s attack on Arianna. The elders gave Gerhard access to the Maleficus and enabled him to bind her fire magic. The timing of this visit is not accidental.”

“They think there’s a hole in our defenses,” Bolivar said. “That we’re more vulnerable than we were.” His voice sharpened, and he threw out his chest. “While the witch’s abilities certainly gave us an advantage, we are not helpless.”

“Agreed,” Andreas said. “But we must decide how to play this game. Do we defy the O-Seven? Confront them from the beginning with a strength that is tenuous at best?” Andreas paused to add emphasis. “Or do we present an agenda of our own to distract them, or stall until we understand why they are here? Perhaps something unexpected. We could suggest a treaty, offer trade agreements, make some outrageous demand.”

“I don’t do subtle,” Bolivar growled.

Raphael smiled at his countryman. “Yes, but the question is whether we should.”

“We are wasting time,” Daron said. “Unless we intend to assassinate them the moment they walk in the door, I see no advantage to flaunting our defiance.”

Bolivar frowned. “I’m not suggesting we kill them. That would be suicide. The entire O-Seven would be demanding our heads.”

“Then what are we arguing about?” Andreas raised a brow at the Canadian prince. “We need an approach that will throw them off course. Perhaps we can walk a fine line by demonstrating strength without initiating a major confrontation.” His lips curved with grim humor as he thought about it. “We can show them how modern we are, how united in supporting one another. We might even offer an alliance. We will support their rule of Europe if they support us in taking over North America.” In the astonished silence that followed, Andreas laughed. “I’m not truly suggesting a violent take over. But it is a story they’d believe, because it is precisely what they would do.”

Daron stood and crossed the room to the wine table. “Perhaps it is time to seriously consider a US/Canadian vampire coalition to prevent the elders from destroying us one by one.”

“Now you’re talking.” Bolivar smacked his fist against his other palm. “They may be powerful, but we outnumber them.”

“Don’t get too excited,” Andreas cautioned. “The idea is to appear strong enough to prevent a war, not to start one.”

Daron carried his filled glass of wine back to the table. “A US/Canadian coalition. It is ironic that the elders have forced us to do what they feared the most.” He lifted his glass. “To a new alliance.”

One by one the others joined him in the toast.

“It will not happen in days or weeks,” he cautioned, “but perhaps we can convince the O-Seven we are further along in our plans than we are. We have much to do to set this in motion before tomorrow night.”

* * *

The meeting broke up an hour before dawn. Andreas and Gabriel walked together toward their sleeping chambers.

“I’m looking forward to this meeting,” Gabriel said.

“Good God, why?”

“It will be fun watching you match wits with Bastian. Porbius is a lightweight in a conversation, but Bastian is clever. It should be a good match.”

Andreas sighed, shaking his head. “You have an unusual definition of fun, my friend. If I thought your words were anything other than an attempt to lighten the mood, I would be afraid you had lost your good sense.” He stopped at the door to his room. “I have no hope of a treaty with the O-Seven, but we may be able to delay their plans until we have a chance to strengthen the coalition.”

“Or until Ari gets here. From what you’ve said, Zylla’s prophesy was pretty clear that Ari has a crucial part to play.”

“The prophecy was far from clear. I have faith that Zylla saw something…” Andreas looked at his friend. “But I have even greater faith in Arianna. Whatever happens, I will be glad when she is back at my side.” He unlocked the door. “In the meantime, we will try to hold our own against Bastian.”

Gabriel grinned. “As I said, this will be fun to watch.”

* * *

Andreas glanced at the closed doors to the audience chambers. A smile flitted across his face. Just as Daron had predicted, the elders were fifteen minutes late.

They were in for a surprise. The meeting had started without them.

During the day, the shapeshifters had transformed the chambers into a modern conference room. In order to emphasize the contrast with the Old World pomp and circumstance the O-Seven would expect, the usual drapes, marble statuary, and gold goblets had been replaced with glass and chrome. A huge walnut table and modern swivel chairs of chrome and walnut-colored leather stood in the center of the room. At the front, a large computer screen held a map of the North American continent covered with dots of various colors.

A group of eighteen, dressed in what passed in the Otherworld as casual business attire, sat around the table. Jackets of fine silk or leather, slacks or dress jeans, white silk shirts, no ties. Also no robes, no chains, no royal colors, no over-the-top displays of formality. The elders would find nothing familiar, except for the heavily armed guards at each entrance/exit.

Tonight’s gathering included several new members: the local werewolf leader, five additional Canadian princes, and a second guardian from the Magic Council. They’d been discussing who could reasonably be expected to join the new coalition, which had been expanded to include the Wolf Federation and a number of Magic Councils.

“What about Chicago?” someone asked.

“The vampires might join, perhaps, but the werewolves will be a problem. They are holding a grudge against Riverdale.”

Grudge might be too mild a word, Andreas thought. Their leader had been tricked by Arianna during an incident two years ago and was still simmering.

The local wolf leader scowled. “It will be their loss if they can’t put that aside. We could all find fault with one another if we wanted to worry about the past. Let me talk to them.”

The chamber doors flew open. Bastian and Porbius stood in the doorway.

Porbius wore an ankle-length black cape which swayed as he moved to reveal red silk and black leather underneath. His black hair hung to his shoulders, and his fingers glittered with several large rings of red stones. Bastian’s more modest hip-length brown leather jacket was nevertheless draped with multiple strands of heavy gold chains. Both men stared at the scene before them, taking in the group assembled around the conference table.

A local vampire guard preceded them. “Prince Daron, your guests have arrived.”

Andreas silently congratulated the guard on his presentation. He had gotten it just right. Respectful but no grand flourish.

Daron walked toward his guests with an affable smile. “Welcome, Porbius, Bastian. I trust you had a pleasant journey. I was beginning to fear you were too exhausted to join us.” He gestured toward the table. “We have quite a group eager to meet with you.”

Then he offered to shake hands.

Porbius stared at the extended hand in disbelief. “What is this? Is this how you treat your guests? Do you no longer bow to show your respect?”

Daron pretended surprise. “Why, Porbius, this is the 21st century, and you are in the new world. Customs are different here. I had not realized this was your first visit abroad.”

“It is not often the situation requires my presence. I had assumed you would extend us the normal courtesies.”

“But I am. Please join us at the table. Would you care for wine?” Daron turned toward Bastian. “And you, Bastian. I hope you will accept our hospitality.”

Andreas struggled not to chuckle at the elders’ obvious discomfort.

Bastian looked as if he’d swallowed a spider, but he managed to be more gracious than Porbius. He put out his hand. “When in Rome, as the saying goes. I think I could use a glass of wine. Come, Porbius, this is Daron’s court. He must run it as he sees fit. We are merely guests.”

Porbius turned his head to glare at his companion. “Can you not see that this…this greeting…is an insult?”

“No, no. Not at all,” Daron interrupted in a hearty voice. “No disrespect is intended. You will no doubt get used to our more relaxed manners.”

“I have no desire to get used to them.” Porbius raised his nose even higher, his eyes grew dark, and the crease between his brows deepened.

Daron paid no attention to his attitude and introduced everyone at the table in the order of their seating.

Porbius interrupted when they reached Zoe. “What is this elf-witch doing here?”

“She is a guardian with the local Magic Council and attending as their representative.”

“Another guardian.” Porbius curled his lips. “Are you a friend of the witch from Riverdale?”

“I like to think so.” Zoe lifted her chin.

“Pity.” He scowled and turned away.

Andreas paused in the act of pouring wine. Perhaps it was fortunate that Arianna wasn’t present. Porbius’s attitude was almost begging for a confrontation, and she might have been eager to oblige him.

While Daron coaxed the disgruntled elder toward a chair at the end of the table under the rapt scrutiny of the other participants, Andreas quietly handed Bastian a glass of wine.

“You are looking well, Andreas.” The elder’s tone was wry.

“Very well, thank you. Sadly, your German air did not agree with me during my recent visit, but that is behind us now.”

“Is it? I wonder.” Bastian tried the wine and gave a nod of surprised approval. “I do not see your witch tonight.”

“My wife is otherwise occupied,” Andreas said smoothly. “I hope she will join us in a day or two.”

“Your wife?” Bastian lifted a brow. “Not so indifferent to her as you seemed at our last meeting.”

“Little was as it seemed in Germany.”

The elder’s voice sharpened. “Does that include your pledge to me? Your abrupt departure would imply so.”

Andreas bristled. “A pledge given under duress and never sealed in blood is of no worth.”

“If honor is of no consequence.” Bastian’s demeanor remained bored in spite of the cutting words.

Andreas squashed a flare of anger. Bastian was baiting him, and he wasn’t going to be drawn into the fight. “I fear we are destined to have different views regarding the events in Germany. Perhaps we should agree to disagree on this point.”

“I am not inclined to release you from your commitment so easily.” The elder’s voice grew icy, and he leaned closer to Andreas. “You owe me.”

“Do I?” Andreas shrugged, feigning indifference.

“Someday I will collect.” Bastian’s words were soft, insidious.

Andreas’s voice hardened. “Only if I allow it.”

Before Bastian could respond, Daron called their names. “Why don’t you join us? I was about to tell Porbius the reason for our meeting tonight.”

Andreas moved away from Bastian and returned to his earlier seat at the table. “Excellent. No doubt our guests are eager to proceed.”

The elder’s eyes followed him, but Andreas refused to acknowledge the scrutiny. He relaxed as he heard a chair scrape, and Bastian seated himself next to Porbius.

When Daron remained standing at the head of the table, the occupants of the room grew quiet. He turned to address the elders. “I know you did not expect such a large gathering, and we will have a private discussion later, if you wish. As a group, we wanted to assure you that the offer we are about to make is sincere, and that it comes with the support of many, including a number of vampire courts, werewolf packs, and magic councils.” He cleared his throat. “Stated in simplest terms, we have formed a coalition of strength to govern Otherworld affairs on the North American continent, including both the United States and Canada. We are offering to enter a treaty of mutual respect and support with the O-Seven.”

“You cannot be serious.” Porbius lounged back in his chair and sneered at them. “Have you deluded yourselves to the point you believe the elders’ council would accept your upstart coalition as an equal? Spare me the necessity of responding to such nonsense.”

“We are very serious.” Daron remained calm, unruffled. “While what happens in Europe holds little interest for us, we are committed to preserving our current freedoms on this continent. We had hoped you would join us in strengthening that division of authority.”

“Are you telling us to stay out of both your countries? To keep our hands off?” Porbius challenged.

Andreas glanced sideways at Bastian. The elder was watching the exchange with apparent interest. What was he thinking? Porbius was visibly angry, clearly not expecting this turn of events, but Bastian seemed complacent. Had he anticipated their actions, or did they somehow fit into his own agenda?

“We would welcome your visits, of course, but what interest could you have in our affairs?” Daron smiled and shrugged, radiating congeniality. “Your court is far away, and our ways are foreign to you. You may find us and our issues incomprehensible.” Daron glanced at Andreas, effectively passing the torch.

Andreas took up the argument, drawing attention to his end of the table. “While we are strengthening our authority in North America, we are supportive of maintaining the status quo in Europe. If the O-Seven would stand as our ally, there would be no one who would dare to raise their hand against either of us.”

“I fail to see the advantage in this for our council.” Bastian’s keen gaze swept the table but landed on Andreas. “No one has opposed us for centuries, except the witches—and we know how ineffective that has been. Where is this threat you foresee?”

“Anywhere you try to force your authority on courts that don’t want it,” Bolivar blurted.

Andreas stilled. Bolivar had gotten off script.

Porbius’s face flushed, but Bastian laid a restraining hand on his arm. Bastian raised his brows. “Would such a threat include you, Bolivar?”

“I believe he was speaking theoretically,” Andreas intervened. He hoped Bolivar would keep silent and not make things worse.

“Was he?” Bastian viewed Bolivar with chilly reserve. “That was not how I interpreted it.”

“Perhaps he could have chosen his words better, but there is a strong preference for independence in his country as well as mine.” Andreas gave Bolivar a pointed look, inviting him to say something to dig himself out of this hole.

Bolivar frowned but nodded. “I was merely giving you an example of behavior that breeds discontent.”

“Discontent? With us? How dare you.” Porbius brushed off Bastian’s hold on his arm. “I refuse to put up with any more of this insult. I will report your disrespect to the council, and you will be dealt with accordingly.”

He glared at Daron. “You have attempted to waylay us with this group of dissidents, but I will not be deterred from our purpose.” He spun toward Andreas and pointed his finger. Vampiric power began to fill the room, pulsing, expanding. “You have been—”

“Porbius!” Bastian shot to his feet. “You overstep.”

Andreas shoved his chair away from the table. Lilith and Russell sprang to his side with their guns drawn. He kept his gaze latched on the elders and willed himself to remain seated. It would be better for everyone if Bastian could contain this.

The others around the table reacted. Vampiric powers surged; shifters began to morph into animal form. Guards who’d been at the back of the room raced forward, their guns trained on the elders. A protective circle surrounded Daron.

Bastian ignored the activity and leaned into Porbius’s face. “There is sufficient time to handle this the right way. Let us leave and consider what we have heard. We can return to finish the discussion.” The two elders locked eyes for long seconds. Then Porbius blinked and stepped back.

“You may be right. Their failure to follow protocol should not be a guide for our behavior. But I have had enough for today. Tomorrow,” he snarled. He pivoted on his heels and strode out the doors, letting them bang behind him.

Bastian turned back to the table. “You have made a grave mistake. We will return tomorrow night at seven o’clock,” he gestured at Daron and Andreas, “to meet privately with the two of you.” His gaze settled on Andreas. “And your witch, if she is here.”

“Until tomorrow then.” Andreas spoke mildly, but his head swirled with speculation. What had Porbius been about to reveal? You have been…what? And why did Bastian stop him?

Bastian’s departing smile at Daron held no humor. “I suggest you rethink the terms of your negotiations before our next meeting.”

The Toronto prince drew himself to his full height. “Perhaps you should reconsider your response.”

CHAPTER TEN

A rural scene slowly shimmered into view around her. Ari—Abigail—stood in the middle of a dirt road. She placed a hand over her heart, relieved to see grapevines and fig trees. Sure looked like Italy. It was warm; the sun shone high overhead. About midday. But what day and year? She’d seen similar dirt roads within Andreas’s estate in 21st century Italy.

She closed her eyes and reached for the link with Andreas. Nothing. Her heart thumped, and she clenched her hands to steady herself. Of course, she felt nothing. If this was 1813, no link existed yet.

Abigail opened her eyes, took a deep breath, and focused on why she was there. Nothing that resembled a village was evident in either direction, so she arbitrarily chose left and walked up the road carrying her bag. Almost half an hour later, she spied three men working in the vineyards. If the lab’s calculations had been correct, it should be early June. What would they be doing? Pruning? Picking off bugs? Hmm, she should have asked Andreas about local activities at this time of year, but then she was supposed to be an ignorant American, wasn’t she? No one would expect her to know anything.

She set her bag down and called to the men. “Excuse me.” When no one responded, she tried one of the few words Andreas had been able to teach her in such a short time. “Um, scusi. How far is it to the next village?”

The men stopped working and one of them walked toward the road. He frowned at her. “You are lost?” He stumbled over the English words, his accent heavy.

She nodded enthusiastically. “Si. Can you help me?” She stopped, realizing she was talking too loud, as if that would help him to understand. She moderated her voice. “I am looking for a village.” She pointed to her bag. “A place to sleep.” She pantomimed resting her head on her hands.

He looked at her bag, then smiled. “Inn.”

“Si, that’s it.” She smiled back, relieved to be understood. “An inn.”

He pointed in the direction she was headed. He continued talking, probably giving her directions, but Abigail understood very little. She recognized a stray word or two that she’d heard from Andreas or his Italian songs, but beyond that she was lost.

As far as she could tell, the next village, which she hoped was Fico, was either fifteen minutes, fifteen miles or fifteen days’ walk ahead. She sighed. Or fifteen fields or crossroads. She was pretty sure it was fifteen. At least she was headed in the right direction.

Would this be a good time to ask the one question she’d rehearsed? What day is this? After all, she wouldn’t see this guy again, so it wouldn’t matter how strange he thought it was that she didn’t know. “Che giorno è oggi?”

His eyes widened. Did he understand her butchered Italian? Had she gotten the words wrong?

“Mercoledi.”

What did that mean? She didn’t know, so she repeated her question.

He frowned this time. “Mercoledi. Due giugno.”

Abigail favored him with a big smile. “Grazie.” She still didn’t know what mercoledi was—maybe the day of the week—but Andreas had taught her the month and enough numbers to recognize June 2, exactly what she’d hoped to hear. “Grazie,” she said again. She picked up her bag, and he smiled and waved as she started off.

When she rounded the next bend, she saw a village ahead with children and dogs playing in the dusty road. No pavement here either. Coupled with the old-fashioned clothes she’d seen, and the date of June 2nd, the lab’s calculations must have been close to perfect. If this was the village of Fico, then Casa De Luca would be a short mile or two away. All she needed to do was find Fredrico Valvano, talk him out of the family heirlooms, and return to Riverdale. How hard could that be?

First she had to find a place to stay.

In such a small village, the inn wasn’t hard to find. She walked in the door and set down her bag. The fiftyish woman behind the counter gave her the once over.

“I need a room for several days.” The woman frowned at her, and Abigail brought out her bag of coins and laid a few on the counter. “I can pay in advance.”

The woman rattled off a string of words in Italian. When Abigail shrugged that she didn’t understand, the woman repeated herself with a variety of dramatic hand gestures.

“No comprendo.” Oh hell, Abigail thought, that wasn’t Italian, but some other mangled language. Spanish? Spanglish?

The woman looked at her, then at the coins and stepped to the door. She yelled at someone outside, and a young man of fifteen or sixteen appeared. The innkeeper pointed at Abigail. “Inglese.”

“No, American,” Abigail said.

The young man smiled at her. “She means you speak English.”

“And so do you.” Abigail couldn’t keep from grinning. “My name is Abigail Foster. Can you tell her I need to stay at least a week until my brother Thomas comes to get me? I can pay in advance.”

“Si. She will like that. I am Torre, Signorina Foster.” He ducked his head to cover his boyish awkwardness and relayed the information to the innkeeper.

The woman picked up a coin, examined it, then spoke to Torre again.

“Signora Paglia asks if you are traveling alone.”

Abigail sighed loudly. “It is a sad story, but yes, until my brother comes I will be alone. The friend I was staying with had to go to France because of a family illness, but I had to be here when Thomas returns. I was told this was a respectable establishment where I would be safe.”

He relayed her story. Mrs. Paglia continued to act skeptical, but finally smoothed down the front of her dress, counted out nine of the coins, and returned the rest.

“She says you have a place to stay for a week and two days, including breakfast. If you want to stay longer, you will have to pay more.” He glanced at the bag. “She also says you should put your money away.”

Abigail gave the woman a grateful smile, then took one of the smaller coins and pressed it into Torre’s palm. “Thank you. Grazie. You have been a great help to me.”

He blushed. “I am glad, signorina, but I did not earn your money.” He tried to hand it back.

“You were very helpful, and I want you to have it,” Abigail insisted.

He ducked his head, mumbled, “Grazie,” and the coin disappeared into his pocket.

Mrs. Paglia made shooing motions toward Torre and showed Abigail to her room on the second floor. It was a small inn with accommodations for six travelers. Abigail’s room, near the servants’ stairs at the end of the hall, was tiny but clean. She bounced on the edge of the bed. Not much give, but softer than the floor.

She brushed her hands down the front of the unaccustomed skirt. She’d love to change into jeans right now. The dress was confining, impossible if she got into a fight. Her return to her own life couldn’t come too soon.

With that in mind, she shoved her bag under the bed and went downstairs. She waved at Mrs. Paglia. The woman frowned and patted her head.

Abigail stopped, uncertain how to handle this. Apparently her flimsy scarf wasn’t enough to satisfy the woman, and she didn’t want to offend her landlady. The fancy umbrella that Claris had insisted she bring might do the trick. She remembered not to take the stairs two at a time, found the delicate parasol, and returned to the first floor. When she opened the feminine accessory, Mrs. Paglia bent her head in approval.

Abigail walked down the dusty road, feeling silly carrying the parasol. Once she was out of sight of the inn, she closed it and quickened her step. How boring life must have been for young women if they always had to be so prim and proper. She considered jogging to hasten her trip to the De Luca estate, but the dress was so cumbersome that she settled for a brisk walk.

The road to the casa wound up a rolling hillside, the property on both sides owned by the estate. If she were observed so far onto private property, she’d have to claim to be lost again.

She reached the turn to the house without meeting anyone and left the road to enter a grove of fig trees. Using them as cover, she crept closer until the entire house was in view, the gardens and the circular driveway. A gardener appeared to be working near the front of the house. A tall man dressed as a gentleman and a white-haired man in a wheelchair were in the side garden. She was too far away to distinguish any details of their faces, but the occupant of the old-fashioned wheelchair must be Fredrico. If only she had a better view. She strained to see the other man. Could he be Andreas?

She pulled back out of sight, the thought almost frightening her. She shouldn’t get her hopes up that she’d see him. That wasn’t why she was there. But it would be interesting.

And a huge complication. He’d be bound to ask a lot of questions. She needed to talk with Fredrico alone.

The tall man left the garden and walked briskly toward the house. He stopped in front to speak with the gardener, then disappeared inside. Abigail was tempted to approach the garden, but with the gardener and the tall man both on the premises, her chances of reaching Fredrico were slim. Maybe one or both would leave if she waited.

She took up watch behind bushes that allowed a clear view of the house and drive. In many ways the property was familiar. She’d been there in the modern world only four months ago. Of course, at that time the buildings had been updated, repainted in the 21st century, and the casa roof was bright red tile. The gardens of 1813 were sparse compared to their modern counterpart, but the feel of the estate was the same. Solid, down-to-earth, with a warmth that only Italy could convey with such panache.

Abigail straightened fifteen minutes later as a middle-aged man in a brown jacket appeared in the garden and wheeled the invalid into the house. There went her chance for today. It was late afternoon, unlikely he’d appear again. She retraced her steps and walked back down the long drive. Waiting for the right opportunity to meet Fredrico might take forever, and she only had a week. Perhaps there was another way. If she could make some local friends… Mrs. Paglia would know how to meet the De Lucas, but she’d be too suspicious of Abigail’s motives. Maybe she could ask Torre.

She’d reached the main road into town when she heard the jingle of harness behind her. A fancy two-horse carriage approached, driven by a twenty-something man in a sporting coat and hat, with a fashionably dressed woman of a similar age seated beside him. Abigail belatedly remembered her parasol and opened it to protect her face from the dust the horses were kicking up. She moved to the side of the road.

The team slowed, and the young man spoke to her in Italian.

“Hello,” she said tentatively. “Scusi, Americano.”

“Richard, stop the horses! She speaks English.” The young woman delivered her preemptory order in a very British accent.

He reined in the team, and smiled at Abigail. “I was trying to apologize for the dust,” he said. “But I doubt if you would have understood my poor Italian even if that had been your language.”

“She doesn’t care about that. “The young woman tossed her bouncy, light brown curls impatiently and tilted her head at Abigail. “Are you staying around here? I haven’t seen you before.”

“I just arrived. I’m at the inn.”

The woman’s face lit up, giving her attractive patrician features a rather impish look. “Do allow us to give you a lift. I am Emily Farnsworth from London, and this is my brother Richard. We’ve been visiting my aunt for almost a month, and I am so eager for another woman to talk with in my own language.”

“Yes, do join us,” Richard urged, his brown eyes containing the same good humor that appeared to be basic to his sister’s personality. “It is some distance yet to the village.”

“Thank you. I don’t mind the walk, but I’m thrilled to find someone who understands me.” She followed their lead and introduced herself. “My name is Abigail Foster. I’m from Boston.”

Richard hopped down and helped her into the back seat of his open carriage. “We’ve been taking a spin in my new phaeton. What do you think of it?”

Abigail smiled at his enthusiasm. “It’s very nice. I’m glad to be one of its first occupants.”

Emily scooted sideways in her seat so they could talk. “So what are you doing here? Are you visiting someone?”

Abigail briefly explained why she was waiting for her brother. “Actually, it’s nice to have a few days to explore the area. Italy is so beautiful.”

“It is rather pretty, but not very lively. I’ve been to a few parties. Not like in London, of course. They don’t waltz.” Emily pouted. “Do you waltz in America?”

“Um, I don’t. I’m sure others do.”

“It’s such a romantic dance, but just a little wicked. At least my mother says so.” Emily grinned. “Anyway, I’ve met several of the locals. There aren’t many eligible gentlemen, except for the vineyard owners.”

“Vineyard owners?”

“The landed gentry. The DeLucas are the richest. Watch out, Richard! Don’t run over that big rabbit.”

“It’s a hare, Em. Haven’t you learned anything while we’ve been here?”

Abigail clung to her seat while Richard swerved to avoid the scampering creature.

“Now what was I telling you?” Emily asked. “Oh, yes, the parties.

Abigail wanted to ask more about Andreas’s family, but Emily didn’t give her a chance.

“The best thing about the parties is that the men were educated in England. We can converse in English, although the women aren’t particularly pleased about that.” She smiled pertly, revealing a dimple in her left cheek. “They won’t like you either.”

“I won’t be here long enough for them to care. My brother will arrive next week.”

Emily dismissed the idea with a delicate wave of her hand. “That is a long way off. Why don’t you dine with us tonight?” When Abigail started to protest, she coaxed. “Please, don’t say no. My aunt will make you welcome, won’t she, Richard?”

“Of course. With all our cousins, she will hardly notice another person at the table.” He chuckled and drew the horses to a halt as they reached the inn. “May we pick you up at 7:00? They dine early in the country.”

“If you’re sure.” Abigail questioned him with her eyes as he handed her to the ground.

“Positive.” He glanced at his sister. “Aunt Marie would think us very rude if we didn’t invite you.”

“Then I’ll see you at 7:00.”

* * *

Aunt Marie was every bit as welcoming as the Farnsworths had predicted. An ample Italian mother, she did not stand on ceremony but kissed Abigail on both cheeks as if she were part of the family. Marie’s English was limited to what she had learned from her sister and her sister’s children, Emily and Richard, and so heavily accented that it made direct conversation with her problematic at best. But she made up for it with numerous gestures and a non-stop flow in Italian that didn’t seem to require a response.

In any case, it would have been difficult to hear her among the numerous conversations at the dinner table. Marie’s ten children ranged in age from five to twenty-seven, and seven of them lived at home. Her husband had died from heart failure two years ago, and her oldest son had moved home with his wife and two young children. It made for a busy household, and dinners were a lively event.

Emily leaned over to Abigail seated beside her and whispered, “See what Richard meant? We could have smuggled you in, and Auntie Marie might not have noticed for a week or two.”

“How do you think in the midst of this?”

“You don’t.” Emily giggled. “That’s why we go for drives and visit places of interest in the area. Come with me to the music room. No one will find us there for a while.”

Abigail agreed eagerly.

“Just a moment and I will get Auntie to excuse us.”

But Aunt Marie was involved in an intense discussion with her oldest son, and they had to wait for a break in the conversation. Abigail was half listening to the flow of Italian words around her, most of it meaningless until she heard the name De Luca.

“What are they talking about?” she asked Emily.

“Planting, running the estate. Teo took over all that when my uncle died.”

“Did I hear them talking about the De Lucas? Didn’t you say they were a wealthy family around here?” Abigail tried to convey mild curiosity.

“The wealthiest. True aristocracy. Andreas, who recently inherited the estate, is quite attractive.” At a brief lull in the conversation, Emily’s gaze flitted to her aunt. “Auntie Marie, may we be excused to go to the music room?”

Abigail understood the Si, si part of the conversation, and the two young women slipped out of the dining room. Abigail sighed the moment they reached the quiet of the hallway. The room at the end of the hall held a piano and two rows of chairs for guests to sit and listen.

“Do you play?” Emily asked.

“Not a note.”

“Honestly? We were all required to learn. Since that was our excuse for leaving the table, I suppose you will have to put up with my poor efforts.” Emily sat on the piano bench, opened the music, and began to run her fingers over the keys. “Come sit with me, so we can chat. You can turn the music pages.”

Abigail settled beside her. “You were telling me about the De Lucas.”

“Was I?” Emily gave her a sly glance. “You seem very interested. Have you seen Andreas?”

“No, I just heard talk. Do you know him?” The sudden twinge in her gut surprised her. Was she feeling possessive of a man she’d never met?

“I saw him across the room at a dance in London two years ago. He attended all the best balls and parties. And the sporting events. He’s considered quite a catch, but nobody has been able to tie him down.” She glanced at Abigail again. “Want to give it a try? If we put our heads together, we might come up with a way to gain an introduction.”

What would it be like to meet him? Would he be very different? Would he be the man she knew or a stranger?

The music stopped and Abigail looked up.

“Caught you,” Emily said. “You’re daydreaming and forgot to turn the page.”

“Sorry. I’m more tired than I realized.” She turned the page.

A speculative light danced in Emily’s eyes. “Or more interested in Andreas De Luca than you want to admit.”

Not to appear too eager, she looked away. “Don’t be silly. I haven’t met or even seen him.”

“I think we should remedy that.” Emily began playing again, and they dropped the subject. Within minutes they were joined by other family members. One of Emily’s cousins took over the piano, and the subject of Andreas wasn’t brought up again.

At least, not that night.

* * *

The following morning Abigail was sitting in the satin robe Claris had loaned her, thinking about getting dressed and finding coffee or hot chocolate or whatever Italians served for breakfast, when there was a knock on her door. It was Mrs. Paglia’s serving girl with a breakfast tray. The young woman set it on a small table next to the bed, then stood with her hands together shifting from foot to foot.

What did she want? A tip? Abigail didn’t remember anyone mentioning tips were expected. “Grazie. You may go,” she finally said.

The girl clearly didn’t understand English, but she pointed to the tray. A small card lay in the corner. Abigail picked it up and read the feminine script.

Dearest new friend Abigail,

I am so glad we met. Richard is busy with boring business with Teo, and I propose that we should go driving. I have an idea of something interesting to occupy our time.

I will be in front of the inn at ten o’clock.

Please send your answer with our servant who is waiting. Please, please say yes or I will be bored to death.

Your best friend in Italy (I know this must be true, as you do not know anyone else),

Emily Farnsworth

Abigail laughed. She had planned to continue her surveillance of the De Luca house this morning, but it could wait a couple of hours. After the drive she might have a better idea of the layout of the countryside, and this would be another chance to quiz Emily about Andreas and how to approach his household. She nodded at the serving girl, emphasized her answer with “Si, tell her I said si.” The girl smiled and left.

Abigail checked the other contents of the tray. Espresso, a bowl of sugar, and three kinds of rolls and pastry with butter and jam. Breakfast brought to her bed. This was even better than the coffee waiting in the kitchen at home. She chuckled to herself. What would Samuel or Lilith say if she asked them to serve her breakfast in bed?

The thought of her friends brought on a wave of apprehension. What was happening in her world? Was Andreas all right? What time was it there? Had the meeting with the O-Seven taken place? Time was so warped between the dimensions that no matter how long she stayed in 1813, only two days would pass at home. But a lot could happen in forty-eight hours, especially when the O-Seven possessed powers that could enslave or kill instantly. Without her psychic link to Andreas, how could she be certain he was still alive? She dropped the bread she’d been nibbling, the thought sharp as a knife in her gut. She’d lost her appetite.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Andreas stepped outside the Toronto vampire compound, threw back his head, and took a deep breath. The discussion among the local leaders had gotten heated with a subtle underlying sense of panic after the elders left. They resented Bastian’s orders to exclude them from further discussions. Their fears of attacks without warning and without any chance of heading off certain death were not just vampire paranoia.

Andreas shared their unease. Porbius’s words haunted him. You have been… What? Declared a rogue court? Sentenced to death? It had to be something along those lines. So why had he and Bastian come to Toronto under the pretense of talking? To gloat? Why hadn’t they made an attempt to carry out the sentence? Perhaps that is what Porbius intended to do when Bastian cut him off.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and walked toward the end of the block. He had no destination in mind, he just wanted to get away from the desperation running rampant in that room. Two men should not have the power to turn so many lives into chaos.

If only Arianna were here… He shook his head before he finished the thought. No. However much he longed to talk to her, to touch her, he was relieved she out of the elders’ reach.

Perhaps the O-Seven would be content with taking out their vengeance on him and spare her life. An ironic smile curved his lips, and he lengthened his stride. She’d never leave it alone. If the elders succeeded in killing him, Arianna would go after them no matter how great the odds.

Was there a way he could prevent that? Perhaps he could make a deal.

He stopped at the corner and looked up at the dark sky in thought. Would Bastian agree to spare her, or even protect her, if Andreas submitted to their sentence?

Would Arianna stay away from the elders if he made it his final request of her?

He stiffened, feeling a power surge behind him, and his own magic flared. Bastian. Without hurry, he turned to face the elder. “Out for an evening stroll?”

“You too, I see. I hope you will allow me to join you.” Bastian appeared out of the shadows of the building, his manner relaxed, almost convivial.

“Have I a choice?” Andreas’s kept his voice even and leisurely proceeded across the intersection.

Bastian fell into step beside him. “Do you not fear me, Andreas?”

“Should I?”

“Most do. It is what keeps me from spending all my time fighting enemies…like young Bolivar.” Bastian turned his head to study Andreas’s face.

Looking for what? Did he want Andreas to cower? Was Andreas’s submission his goal?

Bastian continued. “I could nearly taste his hatred. Are the old ways so repugnant to modern vampires?”

“It is domination that is repugnant.” Andreas stifled his impatience at the elder’s failure to understand, but he spoke plainly. “Humans immigrated to the New World to be free of European authority, to make their own rules, their own fortune. Vampires have done much the same. We do not want to be under the thumb of the European court.”

Andreas’s skin prickled with the vampiric power that Bastian was leaking. It was irritating. The elder could shut it down if he chose, but he was making a statement. Andreas strengthened his shields to keep his own power contained and Bastian’s out. Andreas’s instincts were eager to respond. It would be suicidal, of course. He and Bastian were far from evenly matched.

“So you would defy us?” Bastian bristled, his energy expanding, threatening.

Andreas kept his own magical response leashed, waiting to see what Bastian intended. “We want to be left to our own destinies.”

The elder threw up a hand in a sharp gesture.

Andreas instinctively drew back from the potential threat, then he froze. A flash of wild energy broke loose and flared through his body ready to lash out in his defense. His warlock magic. He hummed with it, his skin vibrating with a thousand electric currents. He hadn’t felt its full strength before, not like this. Tempted to set it free and see what it could do, he fought instead to gain control, to restrain it from initiating an attack.

His lips slowly parted in a smile. This is what Arianna had described, the oneness with an incredible power. His warlock magic had fully awoken.

“What is wrong with you? Surely you do not think I would strike you with my bare hands.” Bastian peered at him with a frown, as if he sensed a difference he couldn’t identify. “Are you hiding something?”

“Your paranoia is showing.” Andreas gave a short laugh and clamped down harder on his shields. If he could keep his warlock side hidden, he would. At least until he had achieved greater control. But he had made significant progress tonight. He flexed his shoulders, getting used to the feel of the witch magic coursing through his veins and grabbed at an excuse for his strange behavior. “I have remembered an important issue I must discuss with Prince Daron before dawn.” He started back toward the compound. Bastian’s gaze bore into his back. He sensed the elder was bristling with suspicion and clearly taken aback by his abrupt departure.

“Do you not want to know why I have sought your company tonight?”

Andreas paused and glanced back. “To deliver more threats? I do not need to hear them. But if you have a purpose that would avoid a war between us, I am more than willing to delay my errand.” He made direct eye contact.

Bastian’s anger shimmered in the air as seconds ticked by. “You are arrogant and foolishly combative. I am tempted to change my mind.” He took a step toward Andreas. “But I will offer you a final chance. Honor your oath. Give your allegiance to me.”

“To what purpose? I am not so naive as to believe there is no agenda behind your offer. Do you aspire to gain control of the O-Seven? Or perhaps that is not enough and you want the world?”

“You think I would confide in you?” Bastian’s laugh grated against Andreas’s skin. “Let me make myself clear. You would answer to me, and not as an equal.”

“What would I get in return for this servitude?” Andreas bit off the last word.

“I will protect you…and the witch.”

Andreas’s nostrils flared. He would do almost anything for Arianna, but enslaving himself to Bastian was something she would never forgive…nor would he forgive himself. On the other hand, as long as they were alive they had the opportunity to change fate. He must tread lightly.

“I imagine you consider that a generous offer, but I prefer answering to my own conscience. What I do not understand is why you wish for this. Why me in particular? There are hundreds of vampire princes who are older and more experienced than I.” He straightened, a sudden chill in his chest. “Unless it is Arianna you are after… Or perhaps you have knowledge you have not shared.” Was it possible Bastian knew of Zylla’s vision? Or one like it? The vampiress did not have a monopoly on visions of the future. Others might have foreseen the same events. Perhaps more clearly. Was that the reason the O-Seven had singled them out?

“My reasons are not your concern. But you would be foolish to turn me down. Consider what you would gain. The bounty hunters would disappear. You could return to Italy whenever you wish. Most importantly, you could keep the witch at your side and escape certain death.”

Tempting. Yet what did Bastian gain? That was the part Andreas didn’t understand. He tried a new approach. “You have heard the prophecies. Perhaps your seers have told you more than ours have. What did they say, Bastian?” He lifted a brow. “Did someone prophesy your death?”

Bastian eyes darkened. “If anyone is to die, it is you. An oracle has foreseen a confrontation, it is true. A challenge coming from the west, the new world. But no one envisioned an outcome that would concern me. No more than annoying, empty threats.”

Andreas allowed his own rising temper to show. “If you are not concerned by the visions, then I ask you once again…why are you here? Why me?”

The two men locked gazes, the air around them sizzling with invisible energy.

A shock wave of alarm spiked through Andreas’s blood. He made a swift half turn, keeping Bastian in sight. But Bastian was no longer paying attention to Andreas. He stared at a dark figure who had dropped from a nearby rooftop.

“Porbius.” Bastian’s quiet word of warning told Andreas the other elder had not been expected.

“Well, well.” Porbius swaggered up to them. “What have I discovered? A secret meeting? How intriguing. Perhaps you would be so good as to explain, Bastian.” His outward demeanor was conversational, even playful, but his eyes failed to conceal his rampant suspicions.

Bastian relaxed his stance. “Do not be tiresome. Since when must I advise you of my actions?”

“Since you chose to hold a clandestine meeting with the enemy.” Porbius’s sharp glance did not match his feigned nonchalance.

“If you must know, I was making a last attempt to talk young Andreas into seeing reason.” Bastian turned his attention back to Andreas as if continuing an on-going discussion. “There are many advantages to having the favor of the elders’ court. Why, even Porbius would forget your earlier conduct…eventually.”

“Do not be so certain of that.” Porbius glowered at Andreas. “I do not trust you.” His gaze flitted to Bastian. “After finding you here, I am also wondering about you.”

Bastian laughed it off. “What do you think I would be doing? Conspiring against the council? With an inexperienced minor prince? I hope you give me more credit than that.”

Andreas watched the exchange, poised to defend himself if necessary. A muscle in his jaw tightened. Despite the civil talk, tension swirled around them, threatening to blow like a powder keg.

“Then why make this contact on your own?” Porbius demanded, dropping his amiable facade.

“Because you are so blasted aggressive.” Bastian threw up an impatient hand. “We have no chance of success if you continue to alienate everyone.” His temper boiled over in a loud hiss of breath.

Andreas wasn’t buying it. Bastian’s anger was too calculated.

But uncertainty flitted through Porbius’s eyes. He broke off his quarrel with Bastian and targeted Andreas instead. “You should know I didn’t approve of offering you immunity. You have already broken the pledge you made to Bastian.”

“A pledge forced from a captive and never written in blood.” Andreas’s voice held a distinct chill.

Porbius eyes widened, and he smirked at the other elder. “Were you so careless, Bastian? The oath was not sealed?” He sounded delighted to have discovered what he considered a gross mistake by the other vampire.

“A technicality.”

“An important one,” Andreas interjected.

“He has got you there,” Porbius agreed. His calculating gaze swung back to Andreas. “Are you saying you would be bound by a sworn oath?”

“If I gave one…yes.”

Porbius paused, as if considering the possibility, then shook his head at Bastian. “Too risky. First Sebastian, then Ursula, now Gerhard. When our allies disappear or die, Andreas and his witch are always around.” He turned his focus back toward Andreas and flung down a challenge. “If you want to join us, tell me the truth about what happened to Ursula.”

A deathly stillness hung over the street. Andreas kept his expression immobile. There was no part of the truth he could tell. “I have not asked to join you, but I would gladly tell you about Ursula if I had such knowledge. As I understand, her plane has not been seen since it left Toronto and is presumed to have gone down over the ocean.”

Porbius’s face displayed blatant disbelief. “If she left Canada. And Gerhard? I know he went to Riverdale. Are you going to pretend ignorance of his fate too?”

“Certainly not. Gerhard was killed in a shootout with local police, like any common criminal who kidnaps women.”

Porbius shrugged. “Well, no one ever accused him of being subtle.”

“I don’t suppose your witch was one of the local police,” Bastian added dryly.

Andreas lifted a brow. “Your point? It is her responsibility to rid Riverdale of such vermin.”

A twist of humor touched Bastian’s lips. “Just keeping the record straight,” he murmured.

Without warning, Porbius planted himself bare inches from Andreas’s face, a surge of power making him appear larger, looming over the younger vampire. “My point is you and your witch are a problem. One that needs elimination.”

Every nerve tingled. Andreas's witch magic and his vampire power flooded him with energy, but he would not precipitate the fight Porbius wanted. Andreas stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels, presenting a picture of indifference. “I am sorry you feel that way. I’m not overly fond of you either.”

Bastian’s sharp bark of laughter diverted Porbius’s attention.

“You laugh now,” Porbius spat, “but we will see who is still amused at the end of the day.” He vanished into the shadows, his silhouette reappearing on the skyline.

Andreas stared at the departing figure. “Levitation?”

“Merely honed agility.” Bastian shook his head slowly. “You are brash and unyielding, Andreas. Qualities I can admire, but they will get you killed. You have a tenacious enemy in Porbius, and he has a strong reason to want you dead. You may wish you had accepted my protection.”

“What strong reason?”

Bastian’s eyes expressed genuine curiosity as he studied Andreas. “Did you not know? Porbius wants revenge. He is Ursula’s sire.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Emily’s open phaeton arrived at the inn in a swirl of dust and prancing horses. “Good morning,” she called gaily. “Don’t be worried. I am reputed to be a very respectable whipster. I have been driving since I was sixteen.”

“Not worried at all.” Abigail lifted her skirts and climbed on board, not an easy task with such voluminous folds of material.

When she was settled, Emily handed her a wide-brimmed hat from the back seat. It was trimmed with green ribbons. “I thought this would suit you. I know how it is to travel with only a bag or two, but we brought a dozen trunks. I have enough clothes to stay six months, and you need to shade your face.” Emily peered at her. “You have freckles from the sun. I have a cream that will lighten those, but at least we can prevent more. Please put it on,” she urged.

Abigail sighed. Emily would continue to hound her if she didn’t, so she removed the comb with its scarf and replaced it with the hat. How Lilith would laugh if she saw her now. But Emily smiled with approval and whipped up the horses.

“I asked Richard about Andreas De Luca this morning at breakfast.” Emily glanced at Abigail. “Would you like to know what he said?”

Of course, she wanted to know. But was admitting it to Emily a good idea? She kept her eyes on the road. “Only if you want to talk about it. Remember, I haven’t met him, so…” She shrugged.

“Richard couldn’t add much anyway, except he thinks Andreas is at home right now. Apparently his great-great-grandfather Fredrico is doing poorly. Auntie Marie wasn’t surprised. She says he’s unbelievably old.”

Well, yeah, like 105. That’s old for a human in any time period. Abigail held onto her hat as a gust of wind threatened to carry it away. “Will they have a big, community funeral if he dies?”

“Heavens, no! Why would you ask that?”

“It’s often done in America. A notice is put up and everybody who wants to can go.”

“How odd. The burial will include family, people who work for the estate, and close friends, I suppose. I can’t imagine who would go if they didn’t have to. But let’s not talk about it. The thought of dead bodies and possibly ghosts gives me the shivers.” She sat up straighter and pointed with one gloved hand. “That looks like a nice road. Where do you suppose it goes?”

It was the private road that led to the De Luca estate.

Abigail choked on a laugh. “Why Emily Farnsworth, I believe you’re up to something. I suspect it leads to the De Luca estate. Are you going to drive up to their house without an invitation?”

“I can’t help it if I made a wrong turn, can I?” Emily flashed a mischievous smile and turned the carriage onto the drive. “Don’t pretend that you don’t want to go.”

As the horses trotted smartly up the road, the young women came in sight of the house. Abigail spotted a single lone figure sitting in a wheelchair in the garden. Emily turned into the circular drive and pulled the horses to a halt.

“Now what are you doing?” Abigail’s brows shot up as her friend started to climb down.

“I’m going to ask for directions. Obviously we are lost.” Emily looked up at her with laughter in her eyes. “Are you coming?”

Abigail grinned and hopped down. In another week, she’d never see these people again. It didn’t matter how many social rules she broke.

She joined Emily, and they walked toward the garden. “Hello there,” Emily called.

The snowy head lifted, and dark brown eyes, alive with intelligence, regarded them. “Are you angels come to collect an old man?” His accent was thick. Abigail wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly, but Emily laughed and the old man smiled at his own humor.

“What a sweet thing to say, but, no, I am afraid we’ve gotten lost.” Emily batted her eyes at him. “Can you direct us toward the village?”

“If you will share an espresso with me.” His eyes twinkled.

Emily looked at Abigail for confirmation.

She nodded. “If it’s not too much trouble.” Abigail couldn’t believe Emily had pulled this off. They were talking with the very man she’d come so far to see.

“I agree that would be lovely,” Emily said. “I am Emily Farnsworth from London and this is my friend Abigail Foster from Boston in the American colonies.”

“I have not had such lovely visitors in a long time.” He inched his fingers toward a bell that hung on his chair. It was a painful process to watch, but Abigail knew he wouldn’t welcome her help. He eventually reached his goal, and the door to the house opened promptly in answer to the bell’s ring.

A manservant hurried toward them. “Si, signor.”

“Manfred, we have guests. Please bring chairs and espresso for the lovely ladies.”

“Si, signor.” Manfred bowed and left, giving the two women a cursory glance. He returned with chairs from the house, seated them, and left again.

The old man bobbed his head. “London and Boston, eh? What are you doing in Tuscany?”

Before either of them could answer, a deep voice drew their eyes to a tall, lean man approaching from the house. “I am delighted to see my great-papa has captured such charming guests for coffee.” He bowed toward each woman. “I am Andreas De Luca, and in case he has not made himself known to you, your host is Fredrico Valvano.”

Abigail’s heart leapt into her throat. Andreas. Dark, sexy, scrumptious as ever, with a deep suntan…and very much alive…truly alive. She nearly rose from her seat and threw herself into his arms, until she remembered where she was and that he wouldn’t know her. She flushed and looked away in confusion. Why hadn’t she considered how this would make her feel?

Emily spoke up, filling what would have been an awkward silence. She inclined her head toward Andreas and gave him their names. He took her hand and kissed her gloved fingers. She dimpled prettily. “Signor Valvano has offered to rescue two damsels in distress. We are lost.”

“Then I am most grateful for your poor sense of direction.” He smiled, the good humor reaching his dark brown eyes.

He turned that heart-melting smile on Abigail, and she barely managed to extend her hand as expected. A vivid flashback occurred to a moonlight scene in Olde Town’s Goshen Park, where a similar introduction had resulted in a tiny nip on her palm. Today he gave the briefest of kisses to her fingertips. The contact flooded her body with warmth. She dropped her eyes before she gave herself away, but he paused and held her hand a second more than necessary.

Then the moment was over. He retrieved the extra chair brought by a servant who’d followed him and sat across from them, next to Fredrico. “Coffee should be here shortly. Please continue whatever you were talking about before I interrupted.”

“I had just asked our young friends why they were visiting our country,” Fredrico said.

“I would love to hear the answer.”

Emily launched into her story of how and why she and her brother came to stay with her aunt until their parents returned from visiting relatives in the north. She barely paused when the espresso was served and continued to tell them all about her aunt’s family. Apparently the De Lucas were acquainted with her cousin Teo. In fact, it turned out that Andreas was meeting with him later in the day.

Abigail tried to pay attention to what Emily said, but it wasn’t easy to keep her eyes off Andreas. Her pulse kept up a rapid beat. She was stunned to realize that much of his charisma and the richness of his voice were due to his inherent personality and not to any vampire magic. It was both reassuring and exciting.

Even in 1813 Andreas’s English was excellent, but she had known it would be. He had been educated and spent several years in England. In the last two hundred years, he had lost a little of the Italian lilt, added polish, maturity, and thousands of experiences, but this man before her appeared to be the same man she knew…and loved. She would have to be careful to keep her feelings hidden.

“You are very quiet,” he said.

She looked up. Everyone was looking at her.

“I was just listening, and perhaps I was distracted by the magnificent view.” She waved a hand at the valley below them. “You must have spectacular sunsets.”

His eyes met hers. “We do. You should return to see one.”

“That would be fun,” Emily agreed. “I say, let’s have a late picnic.”

Andreas leaned back in his chair, clearly amused by Emily’s enthusiasm. His eyes moved to Abigail. “Would you come?”

“I…of course.” Was it going to be this easy to get back on the De Luca estate? She turned to Fredrico. “I hope you will also be there.”

The old man chuckled. “Young people do not need an old man around, and the night air does not agree with me anymore.” He held out his hand and she gave him hers. He patted it with fingers that trembled with infirmity. “It was nice of you to ask.”

Abigail still struggled with his accent. She thought she’d caught everything he’d said, but to cover any lapse, she just smiled. “I would love to talk with you again. Perhaps another day.”

“Any time. You will be welcome.”

Andreas watched this exchange in silence. Abigail couldn’t tell whether he approved or disapproved. Or if he was just trying to figure her out. She supposed they must appear to him as rather pushy young women…and maybe trying to catch an eligible bachelor. She raised a gloved hand to her mouth, stifling a giggle. How ironic, when he was in fact already married to her…or would be.

“Thank you for your hospitality.” Abigail stood, bringing Andreas to his feet. “I think we should go, so we don’t tire Signor Fredrico too much.”

“Yes, I will be expected at home.” Emily rose, smoothed her skirts, and dimpled at Andreas. “So are we to have our picnic?”

“By all means. Is tomorrow afternoon at 5:00 suitable? I will invite a friend or two. I hope you will do the same. At least your brother.” His gaze moved to Abigail. “If you truly desire to further my great-papa’s acquaintance, why don’t I pick you up at 3:00 while he can enjoy the garden in the heat of the day?”

Her stomach did flip-flops. “I, um,” she shot a look at Emily who smiled sweetly at her. “I would like that.”

“Then it is settled.” He escorted them to their phaeton, gave Emily explicit directions to town and handed them both up. Before he released Abigail’s hand, he gave her a smile that curled her toes. “Until tomorrow.”

* * *

They were barely out of sight of the casa when Emily giggled, then burst out laughing. “You have set your cap for him, haven’t you? I thought about having a go myself, but he was all eyes for you.”

“Set my cap?”

“You were flirting with him, and very successfully, I might add. It was very clever to pretend interest in his elderly relative.”

“I wasn’t pretending,” Abigail protested. She pursed her lips. “I don’t think I said anything that could be called flirting.”

“It wasn’t what you said. It was the way you looked at him.” Emily tossed her curls, then took a minute to control her team when they spooked at something beside the road. She darted a glance at Abigail’s flushed face. “Don’t be embarrassed. Andreas would make a wonderful catch.” She straightened in her seat. A cloud of dust announced the approach of another vehicle. “Oh, dear, that looks like the mail coach ahead. It must be later than I thought.” She loosened the reins and urged the horses to pick up their pace. “I can hardly wait for tomorrow.”

When they arrived at the inn, Emily grabbed Abigail’s hand before she could get down. “At the picnic you have to tell me everything, every word, of your two hours alone with him.” She twinkled. “I wonder if he will try to kiss you.”

“We just met.” Abigail’s pulse leapt. This felt like a first date. The uncertainty, the excitement. “Would it be proper?”

“Of course not, silly. You would be considered very fast if you let him. Still…” Emily tapped her chin with one finger. “You being an American and all…” She giggled and shrugged. “I would be tempted.”

Oh, yeah. So would she.

* * *

When she heard the inn’s clock sound three o’clock, Abigail descended to the lobby in the green gown, a white shawl draped over her arms. She carried Emily’s hat with the green ribbons in her hand. As she reached the last step, Andreas entered the inn’s front door.

He took her breath away. Tight-fitting buckskin pants, tall gleaming boots and a dark blue jacket that showed off his strong shoulders. He held driving gloves in one hand, but he was bareheaded, his black hair tousled from the drive. A smile lit up his face as he strode briskly toward her.

“I see you do not adhere to the feminine prerogative of being fashionably late.” He bowed and held out an arm to her.

“I think it’s rude to keep people waiting. But I noticed you have your own rebellion against social fashion.”

“The hat, you mean.” He glanced at her. “I hope you do not mind. Since returning to Italy I have quite gotten out of the habit of wearing one.”

“I don’t mind at all.”

Torre was holding his team of horses outside. Andreas flipped the boy a coin and helped Abigail into the light carriage.

“This is nice. What is it?”

“A curricle. Haven’t you seen them in Boston?”

Oops. “Um, I guess I don’t pay attention. My family has a large carriage.” She hoped that would be sufficient to cover her obvious mistake.

“They are quite popular in London. Many of the sporting set use them for racing. I simply prefer the way they handle,” he said.

They made small talk on the early part of the drive with Andreas pointing out views or objects of interest. As they entered the De Luca lands, Andreas gave her a serious look. “Thank you for your kindness to Fredrico. I should warn you that his moods are not always mellow. His days are short, and he resents the inevitable. What he enjoys one day, he has no tolerance for the next.”

“Understandable, I suppose. He seems quite old.” She knew exactly how old he was, but it was a logical comment for her to make.

“One hundred five last birthday. A longer life than most.”

The curricle pulled up to the house; they disembarked and strolled toward the garden.

“I see great-papa is not out yet. Would you care to come inside while I get him?”

“No, thank you. I believe I’ll admire the garden while I wait.” She gave him a raised eyebrow, wondering why he had asked. Emily had told her it was socially forbidden for her to enter a bachelor’s establishment unattended. Maybe he knew she’d refuse and was just making polite conversation. Of course, Emily had ruined the effect of her warning by adding that manners were more relaxed in the country. “So do as you like,” she’d said. “I wouldn’t mind having a few minutes alone with Andreas.”

Although Abigail would love to get inside the house, it would be best at this stage to act as a properly brought up young lady. She’d make enough unintended mistakes that would have to be excused by her lax American manners.

She’d only strolled part way around the flower beds when Andreas appeared with Fredrico. He parked the wheelchair in the shade of an olive tree at the edge of the garden.

“Thank you for coming.” The old man smiled up at her. “You are a welcome sight. Your green eyes are quite remarkable.”

She returned his smile. “I’m sure you say that to all the girls.”

He chuckled and coughed. “Not for a long, long time. Do sit down and tell me more about yourself.”

She settled on the lawn chair that Andreas held for her. “There’s not much to tell. I live in Boston with my parents and my older brother Thomas. I lead a typical life, spending most of my time with family and friends.” She leaned forward. “Frankly, I would much rather hear about Italy and what it was like growing up in a time of so many changes.” She had to be safe in saying that. Every period in history could lay claim to important events and inventions.

Fredrico’s face lit up, and he talked almost non-stop for the next fifteen minutes. Abigail listened closely; between the accent and his frequently fading volume it wasn’t always easy to follow his rambling tale. The story became less coherent, and he began to falter more often.

Andreas continued to regard his great-great-grandfather with an indulgent smile. When he caught Abigail’s eye, he shrugged one shoulder as if reminding her of the man’s failing health. He glanced at the house once or twice, finally stood and excused himself. “I will try to find out what has happened to our espresso.”

Once he was out of hearing range, Abigail put a hand on the old man’s knee to gain his attention, but he seemed to have trouble focusing on her. “I need to speak with you privately regarding your family heirlooms.”

Fredrico stiffened, his vague expression turning suspicious. “Heirlooms? They are mine. Are you a thief come to steal from me?”

“No, no. I’m just interested in your family history.” She saw Andreas and a servant approaching and leaned back in her chair. “We will talk when you feel better.”

“Go away. I do not want to talk anymore.” He dropped his eyes to his lap and picked at the robe covering his knees.

She hoped he wouldn’t say anything else in front of Andreas, but if he did, there was a good chance it would be disregarded. She just had to act natural. She mentioned his change of mood as soon as Andreas arrived. “I’m afraid I’ve made your grandfather tired.”

“Yes, it looks as if he is ready for his nap.” Andreas took the tray from the manservant who had followed him. “Manfred, would you take great-papa inside? I will see to our guest.”

The manservant rapidly arranged Fredrico and his lap robe for transport and wheeled him into the house.

“I am sorry. I heard him tell you to go away. He does not mean it.” Andreas handed her a small cup of espresso. “But I did warn you. Some days are better than others, and he can deteriorate in a matter of minutes, as you saw.”

“Will he be like that the rest of the day?”

“Hard to say. He may recover after his nap.” Andreas frowned and set his own teacup down. “He is failing more each day. I suspect one morning soon he will not wake.”

Yes, in less than a week now. Abigail suppressed a shiver. She felt ghoulish. Thank the Goddess that prophecy was not one of her gifts. She hated knowing his future and being helpless to change it. Even on such a short acquaintance, she liked the elderly man. She stole a glance at Andreas. In spite of his great-papa’s moods, Andreas would miss him.

“We have almost an hour before the others will arrive. If you have finished your espresso, would you enjoy a tour of the vineyards? I have yet to visit America, but I understand the climate around Boston is not good for growing figs and grapes.”

“Very true.” She handed him her own cup and rose. “Our growing season is much shorter than yours.”

He set them on the tray, took her arm, and she allowed him to lead her down the path toward the working areas of his estate. She asked all kinds of questions about the land and the kind of crops he grew. She was interested in everything about him, and she loved listening to his familiar voice.

By the time they returned to greet the other picnickers, they were laughing and talking as if they were old friends. Which of course they were. The lines were beginning to blur for Abigail. Not surprising under the circumstances. But Andreas had no knowledge of their future life together, and yet, she could swear he felt the same connection.

Emily, her brother, and two of their cousins arrived in the first carriage. Four friends of Andreas—two women in a carriage and two men on horseback—were right behind them. The servants from the house spread the picnic on the grassy hill behind the garden, and the ladies were seated on blankets and cushions. While Andreas did not neglect his duties as host, he spent an inordinate amount of time at Abigail’s side. It did not go unnoticed.

On one of his brief occasions away, Emily scurried to her side. “Tell me everything. What happened?” she whispered excitedly.

“Nothing like you’re envisioning. We talked with Fredrico, then we walked through the vineyards. That was all.”

Emily’s face fell. “Oh. Well, never mind.” Her expression brightened again. “He is smitten and cannot stay away from you.” She gave a dramatic sigh. “It is so romantic, and to think I brought you together.”

“Shh, he’ll hear you.”

“All right, but when something does happen, I want to hear all about it.”

“Emily, you’re letting your imagination carry you away. I’ll only be here a few more days. Nothing is going to happen, as you put it, but it would be nice to see him again.”

“You will.” Emily giggled. “You have him wound around your finger.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Ooh! He is coming. I better go. Good luck.”

Good luck with what? Another date, a stolen kiss? What’s the best a girl could hope for in this society? She blushed at the direction of her thoughts as she watched Andreas stroll toward her.

Following the picnic and four bottles of wine, the partiers exclaimed over the spectacular sunset, and then headed home. Andreas squeezed her hand when he escorted her to the inn, but he didn’t mention seeing her again. She bit her lip and climbed the inn stairs in disappointment.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Saturday morning’s breakfast tray held another card and invitation. This time it was from Fredrico, inviting her to breakfast. Abigail sat up with a grin. The day was a whole lot brighter.

The De Luca carriage picked her up at 9:00. Andreas was not driving it, nor did she see him upon arrival at the casa. She was ushered into the house, where Fredrico was propped in a large chair, surrounded by pillows. His general demeanor was less vigorous than yesterday, but his eyes were sharp.

“Andreas tells me I was rude to you. I suppose I was. Black moods overtake me sometimes. I am sorry.” He frowned. “I believe you asked to speak with me in private. Andreas will not disturb us this morning. He left before dawn to meet with other sportsmen outside of San Gimignano. They are planning for the horse race at Palio in July. A long ride, so he will not be back until late.” He gestured toward a chair. “Please sit. May I have Manfred bring you coffee?”

“That would be wonderful. Thank you.” She took a deep breath. “It may sound fantastic, but maybe not as fantastic to you as others.” She looked straight into his eyes. “I know you’re a warlock.”

The old man’s face drained of color, then he choked and started coughing. Abigail jumped up, patted him on the back and rang the bell beside his chair. A servant came running.

“I think Signor Fredrico needs his espresso.”

“Si, signorina.” The manservant regarded his master doubtfully.

“Go on.” Fredrico’s voice was raspy as he gained control over the coughing. He waved the servant away. “A cup of espresso is all I need.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Abigail sat down again.

“Of course you startled me. Why would you say such foolish things?”

“Because I’m a witch.”

He stared into her eyes as if seeking her power within them, then nodded.

She breathed a small sigh of relief. He believed her. “I’m going to tell you as much of the truth as I can, but you must repeat it to no one, especially not Andreas. To do so might change the course of history.”

“This must be some tale.”

“It is.” She smiled at him. Manfred reappeared with the espresso, and she waited until he had served them and was gone again.

“So tell me of this incredible truth,” Fredrico said, lifting his cup to his lips with a shaking hand.

Abigail tried her own drink. It was dark, rich, and not as bitter as she’d imagined. “I need something of yours that only you can give me. Or rather, a descendent of yours needs it.”

“A descendant? My only living descendant is Andreas.”

“That’s true. Let me explain.” Should she tell him Andreas had become a vampire? Would he be shocked or even repulsed? Vampires throughout history had a very bad reputation. Perhaps, she should start with herself.

“I’ve traveled more than two hundred years through a vortex of conjoined ley lines to find you.”

He shot her a quizzical frown. “On Andreas’s behalf? Then he’s still alive so far in the future. I have sensed some destiny about him. Something more than magic.” He peered at her. “Are you saying he became a shifter or a vampire?”

She mentally crossed her fingers. “A vampire. He’s a good man. You would be proud of him.”

“Thank you for telling me.” Fredrico sighed. “And you love him.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

Fredrico stared at his lap, clearly lost in thought. Finally he raised his head, and his eyes were misty. “What of his warlock magic?”

“He has just come into it. We have terrible enemies threatening us, but he cannot control his magic and use it against them without the family heirlooms.”

“Why doesn’t he have them?”

“We don’t know. We’ve searched everywhere in our time, but we can’t find them. I’m hoping that you have them.”

“I do, of course, but they should have passed to him with the estate.” He pulled his right hand from under his lap robe. An emerald in an ornate white gold setting of swords and runes adorned his middle finger. His hand trembled with age, and the stone sparkled in the light from a nearby window.

“The Valvano crest.” He dropped his hand back to his lap. “The reed you speak of is an ancient virge, a magic wand. It is hidden in a wooden jewelry box in my bed chamber.”

“Andreas never found them.”

“I had planned to reveal everything to him before I died, but I must have put it off too long.” He swallowed and his gaze moved to the valley outside the window. “I have held on to life too greedily, and my selfishness is coming back to haunt me.”

Her gut twisted with anxiety. This was a poor time to be having second thoughts, but what if she was the one changing history? “Perhaps you did just as fate intended. Perhaps I should not be here.”

“If Andreas was not intended to have them, the Goddess would have stayed your hand.” The old man smiled and gave her a wistful look. “You shall have the heirlooms to take with you. When do you return?”

“Soon.”

“Then I will give them to you now.” He rang the bell again. When Manfred appeared, Fredrico removed a key from a chain around his neck. “There is a box in the trunk in my room. Bring it to me. Mind that you keep anything else you might see to yourself.”

“Si, Signor.” Manfred bowed and left.

“Good man,” Fredrico muttered. “He will stand by me to the end.” The old man rubbed the ring on his finger, as if reluctant to take it off.

In a flash of perception she asked, “What happens to you when you remove the ring?”

“I will find out what the next life holds.”

“You’ll die? Right away?”

“The magic is the only thing keeping me alive, but even its power is losing to the infirmities of age. My time is near. Today is as good a day as any.”

“No. I will not tempt fate. This is not the day.” She stopped talking as Manfred appeared again with the long, narrow box Fredrico had requested. Abigail shot him a speculative look. The manservant’s expression gave no indication he thought anything was out of the ordinary.

“Shall I wait, signor?” Manfred asked.

“Yes, just a moment.” Fredrico lifted the lid, took out a thin object wrapped in blue silk, and handed the box back to Manfred. “Please return this to the trunk.”

“Very good, signor.” He bowed and left.

Fredrico handed the wrapped object to Abigail and sagged back into his chair. She carefully pulled the silk away to reveal a slender ivory wand about sixteen inches long. The handle was carved with runes and held three small emerald stones.

“It’s beautiful.” She took off her right glove and ran her fingers along the carvings. Her magic stirred in response to the pull of the wand. She held it out to the morning sun streaming through the window and rolled it slowly, watching each stone shimmer.

“I have not seen it in years. I had almost forgotten its physical beauty.” Fredrico’s rheumy eyes gazed at the object in her hands, then his head bobbed involuntarily, as if he had grown too weary to support it. “The virge will allow Andreas to control and direct his magical energy. He will learn to do it all through the ring, but in the beginning, this will serve him well.”

“You are tired. I should let you rest. Thank you…for everything.”

“Please come back and talk with me before the end. I would enjoy speaking with you about things I have been unable to share with others in my life.” His eyes fluttered closed, then he rallied long enough to ring the bell for Manfred. “Nap time, I am afraid.”

“I’ll be back.” She laid her hand on his for a moment. “I promise.”

* * *

Shortly after midday, Abigail left her room at the inn, thinking about the things that could still go wrong. Although she had the virge packed away safely in her bag and Fredrico’s promise to give her the other heirloom, how would she get the ring? What possible excuse could she have for being present at his deathbed?

Maybe Fredrico could help her figure it out when she visited him again. In any case, retrieving the ring would be easier to do if she had her own means of transportation.

She set out to explore the village, hoping to find a horse and some kind of carriage for hire. She’d worn the comb and scarf in her hair and brought the parasol to avoid shocking Mrs. Paglia, but the bright sun quickly had her longing for her 21st century sunglasses.

She gazed in windows of the four shops in town, even admired the women’s hats. On a whim Abigail entered and tried on a white hat with brown trim that looked like a man’s top hat with ribbons. Not bad. She really should return the hat borrowed from Emily. If she bought this one, she could take it back to Claris, who would be thrilled to have an authentic piece in her shop. She was still debating, when two young women entered, chattering in Italian.

Abigail didn’t understand much of the conversation, but they acted excited and frightened by the topic. The shopkeeper soon joined their conversation. Whatever it was, it seemed to be the big news in town. With her curiosity thoroughly piqued, Abigail was tempted to interrupt and test the language barrier. Then she saw Emily driving up the street and went outside to flag her down.

The young woman waved and pulled her team to a stop. “Good morning! I was going to the inn, but here you are.”

“I’m thinking about buying a hat. Come inside, and tell me what you think of it.”

“Why, Abigail, we’ll have you broken of your American ways by the time you go home.” Emily chuckled, hopped down and tied up her horses. “Let’s see this bonnet that has caught your eye.”

Bonnet? Abigail mentally cringed. She was almost reconciled to needing a hat, but a bonnet? “It’s a hat,” she said firmly.

The moment Abigail and Emily entered the shop, the three women broke off their conversation, and one of them spoke to Emily, her animated voice accompanied by vigorous hand gestures.

“Goodness!” Emily looked at Abigail, her eyes big with intrigue. “We’ve had some excitement in the village. She says we should beware of a monster in the woods.”

The other women joined the conversation, and Emily translated. “Two people were walking in the woods last night and saw a large beast.”

Abigail stiffened. “What kind of a beast?”

More Italian chatter.

“It had huge fangs and claws.” Emily widened her eyes and emphasized the word huge. Abigail couldn’t tell whether her friend was enjoying the gossip or deliciously frightened by the tale. Emily asked them something in Italian. There were nods all around. “They say this has happened twice—the other incident was two nights ago.”

“To the same guys?” Abigail asked.

Emily frowned. “It was a couple. You know. Alone in the woods.” She gave Abigail a pointed look.

“Oh. Can they describe this beast a bit better?”

Emily seemed surprised. “You believe they actually saw a monster?”

“It could have been a wild animal. A bear or some other local creature. Whatever lives around here. I’d like to know what it is if I’m going to be walking around town.”

“The easy solution is not to walk about,” Emily said, but she turned and questioned the women. “They didn’t get a very good look, but a cat-like creature—the size of a small pony—chased them.” She quirked her lips doubtfully. “They ran all the way to the village and didn’t look back.”

“And the other time?”

“It wasn’t the same couple. Something big and furry ran across the road and frightened a villager’s horse. I doubt if it’s anything,” Emily said airily. “There aren’t bears or lions around here. Probably a stray dog. But it does make an exciting story. Now, where’s this hat you wanted me to see?”

Abigail didn’t share her friend’s skepticism, but she didn’t pursue the subject. She pointed out the hat under consideration. Emily had her try it on, declared it perfect, and Abigail made the purchase. Claris would love it.

But Abigail had already lost interest in the purchase. And finding suitable transportation would have to wait for another day. She had a more pressing concern. As she stepped outside the shop, she looked toward the edge of town. Just who or what was this monster in the woods?

* * *

Abigail finished an early dinner in the small dining room on the first floor and wondered what she could wear on a nighttime hunt. Her dresses were out of the question. Maybe she could borrow something from Torre.

She pushed back from the table and walked outside to find him. Seeing no one out front, she proceeded to the corner of the building to check out the stables and heard the sound of a carriage approaching. She glanced back, and her pulse rate quickened when she recognized Andreas.

He halted his team, threw the reins over a post and came toward her. “Signorina Foster.” His stern tone drew her gaze to his face.

Her smile faltered. What on earth was the matter? “Signor De Luca. How nice to see you.”

“Is it? Then you should time your visits to my house when I am at home.”

She hadn’t misjudged his mood. He was definitely angry. She swallowed a sharp retort. “Are you annoyed that I visited with Fredrico?”

“I did not realize you had progressed to a first name basis with him.”

“Is that a crime? What’s this about?” Her voice was sharp this time, but she added in a milder tone. “I didn’t know you were away when I accepted his invitation to coffee.”

Andreas raised a brow, but his posture was slightly less stiff. “I am sorry if I offended you, but my great-papa is very frail and frightened of dying. He is also very wealthy, and I do not want anyone to take advantage of his vulnerability.”

Abigail stared at him. “You think I’m running some kind of scam?”

“Scam?” He directed a puzzled frown at her.

Oops. “Trickery. Fraud. You know, that I’m some kind of gold-digger.”

He hesitated. “My manservant brought a box to Fredrico while you were with him. When Manfred returned the box it was empty. What was inside, Signorina Foster? Where is this object now?”

Damn overprotective servants! What could she tell him? Not the truth. That would require her to explain it all, and she absolutely couldn’t do that.

“Have you asked your great-papa?” she demanded.

He frowned uncomfortably.

“No?” Her voice sharpened with scorn. “Then I suggest you do so. Good day, Signor.” There. As Emily might say, she had given him a proper set down. Satisfied she’d avoided a potential land mine, Abigail walked away.

He came after her. “I did not mean to accuse you of anything. I merely thought—”

“Frankly, I don’t care what you thought.” Abigail kept walking. “Obviously you have a very poor opinion of my character.”

“Abigail.”

She glared at him, doing her best to look scandalized.

“Signorina Foster,” he amended. “In my defense, I have had a long, tiring ride today. If I jumped to an unworthy conclusion, I am sorry.” He hesitated. “You are very right. I should speak with my great-papa.”

“Do that.” She couldn’t resist having the last word.

He stood there a moment, then mounted the carriage, flicked the reins at his team, and drove away.

She walked slowly toward the stables. It was going to be harder than ever to visit Fredrico now, particularly at the critical moments before his death. She hated to take someone else into her confidence, but maybe there was a servant who could help her. Not Manfred. Clearly he would tattle to Andreas, the very thing she was trying to avoid.

Torre was cleaning a harness in the stable, and jumped to his feet when he spotted her. “Is there something you want, signorina?”

What did she want? She couldn’t very well tell him she wanted his shirt and pants. It had seemed like a good idea, but now that she stood there, with him looking at her so oddly, she just couldn’t think of a way to do it without making him think she was crazy. “I was just out for a walk. Don’t let me disturb you.” She backed out of the stables and nearly ran back to the inn.

So now what? Even if she had to go in a dress, she was monster hunting tonight. She had an idea who—or what—it was. Andreas’s weretigers had been around in this time period. Not yet in his service, but he’d told her the story about his family sheltering a weretiger who’d been infected while defending a member of the De Luca family. This cat-like creature had to be related somehow. No one had been hurt, but that didn’t mean no one would be.

With one hand propped on her hip, she stared in dismay at the dresses on the bed. White or pale green wouldn’t make much difference. They’d both stand out in the dark, and either would be ruined after a night in the woods. Since she had two white ones, she chose the one she had on and slipped her dagger sheath onto a scarf tied around her waist.

Abigail crept down the back stairs. It had been dark for almost an hour, and she hoped that everyone would be inside at this time of night. She pushed the door open a crack and peeked out, using her enhanced guardian senses of sight and smell to detect possible observers.

A light was on in the stables, but no one was around. She eased outside, closing the door softly behind her. Mrs. Paglia always stayed up front in the evenings for late travelers, but it was only a short hallway to the back door.

Abigail cut behind the stable, the pungent odor of horses mixing with the sounds of restless hooves settling for the night. As she reached the first stand of trees that would hide her from the inn, she hiked up her skirts and ran toward the woods.

An hour later she was disheveled and dirty but hadn’t found any definite evidence of a supernatural creature or any other predatory animal that might have frightened the villagers. There was a faint trace of Otherworld energy, but it was too indistinct to identify the species. It might have been left by a passing stranger at any time, even weeks or months ago.

Her search had given her a greater understanding of the Italian countryside, which held only small areas of cover sufficient for large animals. No wonder the creature had been spotted. It would take great skill to move around this terrain without being seen.

Abigail was about ready to start a second pass when her spidey senses began to tingle, raising the hair on her arms. Otherworld power. She stopped and reached out with her witch magic to pinpoint the source. She smelled him. Off to the left. Grabbing her silver dagger from her waist, she crept forward through the sparse brush.

The weretiger stood in the middle of a field, his striped fur an obvious giveaway in the moonlight, unless you were a villager expecting the bogeyman. She watched him for an instant. His nose pointed up, sniffing the air, as if he realized he wasn’t alone.

She started toward him to try talking first. Her single goal was to prevent him from terrorizing the countryside.

The moment she appeared, the tiger whirled and fled toward the tree line behind him. “Wait,” she called. “I just want to talk. I know what you are.” She bunched her skirts in one hand and raced between the trees, leapt over a large log, and scrambled up a narrow path. As she charged over the top of the hill, she sidestepped a direct collision with a large figure. Before she could spin out of reach, a man’s strong arms came around her and held tight.

Abigail kicked at his legs, almost breaking free, until her skirts caught on a bush. Trapped, she clutched the dagger prepared to plunge it into her attacker’s thigh.

“What the hell? Damnation. Hold still.”

She stiffened, recognizing the voice.

“Abigail?” Andreas’s eyes raked over her. “My God, woman, why are you holding a knife?”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“Andreas? What are you doing skulking about in the woods? I thought you were the monster everyone in the village was talking about.” She shook loose from his hold and jerked her skirt free from the brush.

His brows shot up. “You were chasing a monster? With that?” He pointed to the knife and frowned, momentarily distracted. “It is an unusual blade. May I see it?”

She hid it behind her back. “No, you may not. If you are through man-handling me, I’m going back to the inn.”

“Not alone. I am not the monster you mistook me for, but the woods at night are no place for a gently bred woman.” He peered at her. “If that is what you are.”

“What does that mean? First you accuse me of being a thief or a fortune hunter, and now you insult my…my parentage?” She turned and hurried in the direction of the village. She was desperate to get away from his questions before he got any closer to the truth.

He easily caught up with her.

“Go home,” she said crossly. “I can take care of myself.”

“I have no doubt.” His voice held a hint of amusement. “Nevertheless, I’m coming with you.”

They walked in awkward silence for a while. He caught her once when her skirt snagged again on a branch. The brief contact sparked a flare of sensual awareness. She pulled away and moved along the path as quickly as she could. “I don’t believe you told me why you were in the woods,” she said.

“Did I not?” He seemed to think about it. “I was out for a walk.”

She nearly gave a snort of disbelief, but she turned it into a cough.

“Did you say something?” His voice dared her to call him a liar.

“Oh, no. A tingle in my throat. It must be the night air.”

He gave a faint chuckle.

She saw the stable lights ahead and lengthened her stride.

“You move quite briskly for a lady,” he said.

Abigail gave him a benign look. “You have no idea.” She came to an abrupt halt and turned back to face him. “The stable is just ahead. Please go now before you give me away. I don’t want anyone to see me like this. If I’m careful, I may be able to slip up the back stairs unnoticed.”

“Very well.” His gaze warmed her. “I will save you from a scolding by Mrs. Paglia, but we will talk again.” He gave a slight bow. “Until then.”

“Good night, Signor De Luca.”

“Buona notte, signorina.”

* * *

The following morning Abigail put on her new hat and was out of the inn at an early hour. She’d been up since dawn, going over the events of yesterday. She tried to put the disastrous meetings with Andreas behind her and focus on the weretiger problem, but she kept seeing his face when he accused her of taking advantage of Fredrico, and again when he saw her knife.

She walked through the village lost in thought. The next meeting with Andreas could be awkward in the face of his growing list of suspicions. He’d acted less hostile by the time they parted last night, but she knew he wasn’t fooled. She’d have to brazen it out—and avoid him as much as possible.

She nodded to people she passed on the way, furtively checking them for the telltale shapeshifter aura. In her early morning musings, she’d concluded her best chance to find the weretiger was to search for him in human form by mingling with the populace of the small community. She was bound to run into him sooner or later.

“Good morning, Miss Foster.”

She startled at hearing her name and swept around to find Richard Farnsworth behind her in a one-horse gig. Relieved it wasn’t Andreas, she gave him a welcoming smile. “You don’t have to be so formal, Richard. You can call me Abigail. Where is your sister this morning?”

“Still abed, I fear. In London, we rarely see her until close to noon. But you don’t seem to suffer from her bad habits.”

She smiled at him. “I have many of my own. But Emily was here to take me driving quite early one morning.”

His grin was that of a knowing brother. “Up to some scheme, no doubt. She can bestir herself if it suits her.” He gestured toward the seat beside him. “May I take you somewhere?”

“Thank you, but I’m just enjoying a morning walk. I hope to hire a small conveyance at the livery and spend the day acquainting myself with the countryside.”

“This is Sunday. You won’t find anything open until after church, not even the livery.”

She screwed her face into a frown. “That’s too bad. I guess I don’t have any choice but to wait.”

“You drive then?”

She dropped her gaze. “Um, how hard can it be?”

Richard threw back his head and laughed. “Very hard, if you haven’t been properly taught to handle the reins.”

She sighed and scuffed the toe of her shoe. “Then I’ll have to be a quick student.”

It was his turn to frown. “Your heart is set on doing this?”

“It is, but don’t worry. I’ll get some tips before I do.”

He made a most ungentlemanly snort. “Come on. I just dropped Mother off at church and she won’t be ready to go home for at least a couple of hours. I’ll show you how it is done and let you practice. By that time Harry will be back at the livery, and I’ll see that he gives you the most docile animal he has.”

Abigail eagerly agreed. Within minutes she realized how foolhardy her original plan had been. But with Richard’s patient help, she was doing very well by the end of the two hours. True to his promise, he negotiated an appropriate horse with Harry, the blacksmith and livery owner. By early afternoon, she and Lucia, a brown horse of indeterminate age and a gentle disposition, were on their way.

Lucia didn’t give her any real trouble, except she rarely moved faster than a walk and had her own ideas about where they should go. Still, they managed together. Abigail waved at numerous farm workers and smiled at passing carts and carriages. She even dared to trespass on private properties, always waving gaily. She figured they’d be talking about the strange American lady for days. She saw a lot of the thriving countryside and its hard-working people, but not a single sighting of a weretiger. At one vineyard she noticed a female werefox among the workers, but otherwise the area appeared devoid of Otherworld inhabitants.

By late afternoon, she was hot, dusty and ready for cold drink of water and a glass of wine. She returned Lucia to Harry, succeeded in conveying her message that she might need the horse again, and walked toward the inn. A quick wash, and then that glass of wine.

She glanced up at the clip-clop of an approaching horse. Andreas was riding astride. He tipped his head toward her. “Signorina Foster.” He reined in his horse and dismounted. Ignoring her less-than-welcoming frown, he looked her over in amusement. “Have you been roaming the countryside again?”

“I’ve been driving,” she answered tartly.

Andreas threw up his hands at her sharp tone. “Peace. I come to make peace.”

“It isn’t necessary.” She resumed walking. “Your opinion of me is unimportant.”

“It is important to me.” He looped the horse’s reins over his arm and followed her. “Signorina, have you not made a mistake that you regret? I have come to beg your forgiveness.”

She slowed her pace to allow him to walk beside her without putting his horse into a trot. “I assume you talked with your great-papa.”

“Yes, I did, and received a good scolding for it. After impressing on me that it was none of my business, he showed me the Chinese letter opener that belonged in the box.” He made a rueful face. “I am afraid Manfred is also in his bad graces.”

“As you both should be.” She glanced sideways at him, a smile tugging at her lips. “Well, do you intend to apologize or not?”

He chuckled. A rich, sensual sound that made her breath quicken. “I do.” He stepped in front of her, his brown eyes twinkling, and made a formal bow. “I humbly beg your pardon.” He searched her face. “Will that do?”

“Apology accepted. Although I shouldn’t let you off so easily.” Discomfited by his nearness, she moved back. It was hard not to kiss those smiling lips, a frequent end to their fights in her real life. She ducked her head to hide the thought and walked around him. What would he do if she’d acted on her impulse? Would he be shocked? Somehow she didn’t think he’d push her away. That made it even harder to keep her distance.

He continued to walk beside her until they reached the inn. “You have quite a champion in Fredrico. He was very taken with you. In fact, I was here earlier to invite you for afternoon refreshments, but you were out. Perhaps tomorrow morning? I promise to be on my best behavior.”

“I would love to. I admire your great-papa, and I have enjoyed the stories of his childhood and his life in Italy. I’ll look forward to seeing him again.”

“Then I’ll call for you at ten.”

“Thank you, but you don’t need to bother. I can drive myself.”

“Nonsense. I insist. Ten o’clock.”

“OK—” She turned the slang expression into a cough and tried again. “I’ll be ready.”

* * *

As she’d anticipated, Andreas was the one who came to pick her up the next morning. He wore a blue morning jacket that contrasted nicely with the rich black locks that tumbled casually over his forehead. The tight leggings showed off his muscular physique.

Too bad this pant style has faded, she thought. Jeans don’t even compare.

He smiled, as if he’d read her thoughts. “Good morning, Abigail. It is a beautiful day for a drive, and Fredrico is eagerly awaiting your visit.”

He handed her into his curricle, and they made comfortable small talk on the drive. He made no reference to the monster or the confrontation in the woods.

She shot him a furtive glance. Was that because he didn’t want to talk about it either? Andreas had to be aware of the weretiger; the De Luca family had protected him. Had Andreas been in the woods on the same errand as she was? To find out why the tiger was frightening the villagers? If he had been, it was clear he wasn’t going to talk about it.

Fredrico was in the garden when they arrived. He appeared to be sleeping.

Andreas held a hand out to Abigail. “Apparently, our espresso is postponed. But if you do not have pressing plans, perhaps you might enjoy seeing more of the estate. Since you do not harvest grapes or figs or olives in your part of America, you might enjoy seeing our crops. We also have a few enjoyable views.”

She promptly offered him her hand. He laid it on his arm, and they walked together across the lawn.

“I thought we would start with the figs.” He led her down to a grove of fig trees, just beginning to grow heavy with fruit, and she drew in the earthy, somewhat minty aroma. He produced a handkerchief and cut a fig, holding it for her to sample. “Careful. The trees are sticky with sap.”

The fruit tasted sweet and slightly peachy. “That’s very good.”

He used the handkerchief to catch a drop of juice at the corner of her mouth, and his knuckles brushed her cheek. She nearly gasped at the spike of sensation.

His eyes darkened. “You must try the figs again in September. The late trees produce the sweetest fruit.”

“I’m afraid I’ll be back in America by then.”

A cloud passed across his face. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

They stopped at the vineyards next to inspect the nearby olive trees, then took a more wooded path back toward the house. Andreas put his hands on her waist to lift her over a large log. Instead of setting her down, he brought her against his chest and captured her lips.

The human warmth of his lips was new, but the rush of emotion was the same. She melted against him, joining in the kiss, urging him to take it deeper. When he lifted his head, they were both breathless.

Abigail stiffened. What about her Andreas? Was this a betrayal? He sounded like Andreas, his arms and lips felt like Andreas… She quit thinking and gave in to the moment.

He loosened his hold and let her down, his warm eyes searching hers. “That was not gentlemanly of me, but I cannot say I am sorry.”

She ducked her head, torn between her feelings for him and the uncertainty of whether she was doing and feeling something she shouldn’t. “I’m not sorry either, but I think we should go.”

“Of course.”

His voice was casual, but did she hear a hint of regret?

They returned to their walk and neither of them mentioned it again. As the afternoon wore on, they both went out of their way to avoid unnecessary contact. Gradually Abigail’s heart rate returned to normal.

It was just a kiss. Naturally she was attracted to him. After all, he was still Andreas.

* * *

When they arrived back at the house, Manfred informed them that Fredrico was awake and waiting for them in the sitting room. “How was your walk?” he asked.

Abigail wondered if he could tell something had happened between them. “Lovely. Andreas sliced me a fig. It was delicious.”

“And dinner will be even more delicious. Please join us.”

“I don’t know. It’s been a long day.” She glanced at Andreas. Did he want her to say yes? Would it be proper, dining with two men?

“Do stay,” Andreas coaxed. “If you are concerned about propriety, I am certain our housekeeper would stay. It would be a pleasure to have a lady grace our table.”

“Well, since you put it so nicely, I accept.” She turned to Fredrico. “Perhaps you can tell us more about your wonderful orchards.”

Fredrico guffawed. “I will do that. Now, off with the two of you so the staff can prepare for dinner.” Abigail began to suspect that he was deliberately throwing them together.

Andreas held out his arm. “Perhaps a stroll around the garden?” Something in his eyes made her think of that kiss and wonder if he was thinking the same.

She smiled and laid her hand on his coat sleeve.

The garden was awash with colorful flowers and the soothing sound of water trickling in the fountain. Andreas’s hand warmed the small of her back as he guided her around a stone statue of a woman carrying a water jug. It was one of four statues in the garden placed along the stone paths that radiated from a small fountain at the center. When Andreas stopped next to the ornamental fig tree and slipped his hand to her waist, she automatically turned into his arms.

“Abigail, I—”

A sudden movement from the edge of the garden made them spring apart. Her magic spiked.

“Signor Andreas.”

That was all Abigail understood of the man’s words spoken in Italian, but Andreas muttered an oath. “Give me a moment,” he said, and left her standing there.

The visitor faded into the trees, but not before she’d seen his aura and recognized his Otherworld power. Weretiger. So Andreas did know the monster-in-the-woods. Although this wasn’t the same tiger she’d seen before. She sensed this weretiger was older, more mature. How should she handle the situation? She felt a duty to stop the terror the tiger was causing among the local residents. Even in this time period, her cop instinct to serve and protect was strong.

She heard quiet voices, then Andreas reappeared. “I apologize for the interruption.” His smile sent a shiver across her neck. “I must fetch something from the house. Do you wish to come with me or wait in the garden?”

She jumped on the opportunity. “It’s so nice that I’ll wait here.”

“I will not be long.”

“Take your time.” In fact, take all the time you want. She was going to talk with the weretiger.

Andreas crossed the lawn and entered the house. She ducked into the grove of trees. The moment the tiger saw her, he turned to flee. “Stop. Don’t go.” She sent her witch magic to soothe and reassure that part of him that was Otherworld. “I won’t harm you.”

He hesitated, obviously confused by the magic he felt.

Abigail kept talking, telling him about the fear in the village and that he must hide his presence or they would begin to hunt him. He probably didn’t understand her words but she hoped he would get a sense of her concern. Shifters had an uncanny ability to empathize with emotions and feelings, regardless of the language.

His eyes were wide, frightened. He clearly couldn’t figure out who or what she was. Tuffs of fur appeared on the backs of his hands, and his eyes changed to a burning yellow. She held out her hand and took a small step forward, but he whirled and ran.

She hesitated, then turned back to the garden. Andreas ducked around a low-hanging branch and blocked her way.

“Abigail, what are you doing?”

“I…I thought your friend said something, so I went to see if anything was wrong.” She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “But no one was there.”

“Damnation.” Andreas disappeared into the shadow of the trees. He returned after a moment. “I will get you home and find him again.”

“Is there a problem?” she asked in an innocent voice.

Andreas hesitated. “That was one of our workers. His son is…ill.”

“How awful. I hope you can help.”

“It is not exactly an illness, but a temporary condition.” Andreas looked away, his tense shoulders revealing his discomfort. “I have a bottle of medicine that should have the young man feeling much better.”

Abigail let out a silent breath of relief as she figured out what the trouble was. Weretiger puberty. He wasn’t a danger to the human population, and his erratic behaviors should fade in a couple of weeks…faster with medication.

She walked beside him toward the house. “It’s good of you to take such an interest in your workers.” She glanced at his face. “I hope I may visit your great-papa again before I leave.”

“Certainly. He would be disappointed if you did not.” Andreas’s shoulders relaxed with the change in topic, and his slow smile emerged. “And there’s something else I’d like to show you before you leave Italy.”

She loved his smile. “And what would this be?”

“Ancient ruins. Very mysterious. No trip to the area would be complete without them. Perhaps tomorrow?”

“I’d love it.”

* * *

Promptly at three the next afternoon, Andreas picked her up in his curricle and they drove as close to the ruins as possible, then tied the horses and walked from there.

Abigail took his arm and followed him down a path dappled with late afternoon sunlight through the trees. He asked her about her life in America, and she told him the truth as much as was possible, keeping it vague when necessary. The topic make a good segue to her departure. She couldn’t just leave without saying something. “I’m rather anxious to check on my grandparents when I get home. That’ll be one of the first things I do.” She glanced at him. “My brother Thomas is due tomorrow.”

“Yes, I remember.” His gaze rested on her face. “I will miss your visits. So will Fredrico.”

“I’ve had a wonderful time.” She examined a spot on the palm of her glove. “So, tell me about the rest of your family. I haven’t heard you talk about your parents or siblings.”

He kept his attention on the path ahead of them. “Not much to tell. I did not know my father. He died of consumption a year after I was born and the estate legally passed to my brother Luis. Since he was only three, Fredrico helped my mother manage the property. She died when I was twelve, and I was sent to school with Luis in England. After he finished his education, he returned home to take over the estates, and I stayed in London intent on having a good time.” He glanced at her. “Is this long story boring you?”

“Not at all, but I imagine it’s difficult to tell. You’ve lost a lot of family. I assume something also happened to Luis.”

His gaze flitted to her and away again. “Two years ago he was hunting, his horse fell going over a fence, and my brother broke his neck.” She saw his jaw tense, but his voice remained flat. “Since I was the only heir, and Fredrico was too old to manage the estate, I was called home from England to oversee the land.”

“Will you stay permanently?”

“Strange you should ask. I have considered hiring a permanent overseer and returning to England, but it is not decided. I suppose it is about time I settled down and started a family. I do enjoy children.”

Abigail swallowed hard. She knew too much to be having this conversation. That must have been one of his bitterest regrets after his return to London and his vampire transformation—the inability to father a child.

Overhead, clouds began to roll in. The skies continued to darken, and the wind whipped the leaves in the trees to a rustling frenzy.

Andreas raised his voice over the wind. “It’s too late to make a run for home. We should take shelter, but I’m afraid we’re in for a soaking.”

“I won’t melt.” And she’d be with him.

The rain started to fall in large drops, soaking Abigail’s cotton dress. She pushed the loose strands of wet hair back from her face and looked for any potential cover in the surrounding territory. As they approached a stand of thick trees, she spied what appeared to be broken stone walls. “I see something over there,” she said shouting above the storm. “I’m not sure if it’s a shelter or not.” She shielded her eyes with her hands, but it was raining too hard for that to make a difference.

“It’s the ruins. The trees will provide us some shelter.”

They wouldn’t drown, but it was far from dry. Thunder boomed, and a moment later, lightning flashed across the sky. She ran across to the wall she’d seen sticking out of the thick brush, skirted around the tangle of foliage, and saw that one side of the structure had collapsed against the other, leaving a sizable area underneath. She had to duck her head, but she was able to walk a good eight feet underneath to where the ground was dry. She turned around to go back for Andreas when he appeared in the opening.

“Is it dry in here?”

“Not too bad.”

He looked her over, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Hand me your shawl. I can hang it over here. It won’t dry unless we’re forced to stay much longer than I hope, but some of the rain might drip off.”

She passed it to him, giving him her own scrutiny. “If you think I look bad, you should see yourself. You’re dripping and making a mud puddle all around you.”

“Speaking of puddles.” He pointed at her dripping dress. “I will help you wring it out in a minute.” He took off his coat and shook it near the entrance, then laid it on the broken stone wall next to her shawl.

Abigail took over his place next to the opening and began to wring out sections of her skirt, making even larger pools around her. To avoid the small streams she created, she kept stepping from one side to the other. She felt a tug on the back of her dress and glanced over her shoulder. Andreas had a large section of her skirt and was wringing the water out over his boots.

“What on earth are you doing?”

“Cleaning my boots.” He grinned at her. “I thought all this extra water should be good for something.”

She grinned back at him and kept working on the front of her skirt while he worked on the back. When their hands bumped into each other on the side, he drew back and let her finish. She’d finally done all she could. She was wet to the skin, but at least she was no longer dripping.

He’d been silent for a while, and she turned to find him sitting on a large chunk of stone, one boot in hand. He was staring at her.

Abigail blushed, realizing the wet dress wasn’t hiding much, and she recognized that look. It hadn’t changed in two hundred years.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m afraid this dress is still awfully wet. How are your boots?”

“Ruined, but clean.” He put his boot back on, then his eyes locked with hers, and he walked the few steps to where she stood. He reached out to pull her close, covering her lips with his.

So soft at first. A shiver shot down her spine, her knees weakened, and she gripped the hard muscles of his shoulders to steady herself. He drew in a ragged breath, deepened the kiss, and pulled her body against his. His hand moved to her lower back, spreading across her waistline and pressing her hips forward. When she curled her fingers into his hair, he lifted his head to run his lips across to her ear. She shivered, and he chuckled. A deep, masculine sound that she knew so well.

Abigail reached down and began to unbutton his vest.

* * *

By the time she woke, the storm was over. Andreas’s head of tousled hair rested on her chest, his breathing regular and even. She listened to it for a moment, contented just to lie there on their makeshift bed of shawl and coat.

Except… She wrinkled her brow. Something was different. Her magic felt slightly…off.

She gently moved Andreas’s head and sat up. What was this strangeness she felt? Her magic began to sing, to harmonize. Abigail clapped a hand over her mouth to suppress a squeal of…panic? Excitement? She dropped her hand and stared at her stomach. A tiny flicker of a second precious magic wound around her own.

Oh, dear Goddess. A child. She was pregnant.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Flanked by Lilith and Russell, Andreas walked swiftly toward Prince Daron’s audience chambers. The compound had received a message from Bastian and Porbius delaying the evening meeting. Daron thought they should discuss it and go over their strategy.

After the predawn encounter with the elders, Andreas had returned to the compound with barely enough time to give Daron a quick rundown before they were forced to retire for the day. They had agreed that a confrontation seemed unavoidable. Now this. Was it significant?

Andreas lowered his brows. Incredible to think he and Arianna might be a threat to the power of the O-Seven. How was that possible? All this talk of visions and prophecies. He shook his head in irritation. Someone had misread the mystical signs. Had the O-Seven hounded them for two years based on nothing more than some soothsayer’s vague dreams?

He opened the door to the audience chambers and found Daron alone with his security chief, Mike. By setting the meeting this early, Daron had excluded the less powerful vampires who were not yet awake. Andreas paused in the doorway and watched his friend pace around the modern conference table.

“I hope I have not kept you waiting,” he said, entering the room.

“Not at all. I have been sorting my thoughts.” Daron hesitated, glancing at Andreas’s werelion guards. “I have told Mike what Bastian is to me, and I think we should share the same information with your people.” He gave Lilith and Russell a fleeting look. “To hold back anything important at this critical moment seems foolish.”

“It is your decision to make.” Andreas took a seat at the table; Lilith and Russell on either side of him.

“Anything you tell us will be kept in confidence,” Russell assured him.

Daron drew himself up, frowning uneasily, as if he were about to divulge some failing in himself. “Bastian is my sire. I was his First Son. It is he who has protected me from the council for fifteen centuries, often being the single vote that stopped an execution order. This was not done out of concern for me,” he hurried to add, “but to keep a bargain. To buy my silence regarding my bloodlines. In truth, I have been no more anxious than he to reveal a connection to his brutal activities.”

Daron began to pace again, his hands linked behind his back. “I have, however, watched Bastian’s behavior with interest. He has slowly changed over the last five hundred years, growing more ambitious but also more politically correct. It has tempered his prior random brutality. Even so, his recent behavior has been uncharacteristic. His protection of Andreas at the O-Seven court continues to puzzle me. My sire has not been known for altruism.” Daron gave a bark of laughter that held little humor. “Now his actions are becoming clearer.” He nodded to Andreas. “Tell them about your encounter last night.”

Andreas suppressed a flare of impatience. He was eager to prepare for tonight’s meeting rather than go over past events, but of course the others needed to hear what Bastian and Porbius had said. He hurried through a summary. “I believe their mystics have seen or predicted something beyond what we know from Zylla’s visions. We have focused on images of our defeat and finding a way to stay alive. But it appears as if the O-Seven is worried about their own survival.” He frowned, still reluctant to accept that conclusion. “Perhaps we should consult another seer or even an oracle for clarification.”

“I have sent for both,” Daron said. “But I do not expect either to arrive before tonight.”

“What difference does it make anyway?” Lilith asked. This was the first response from the werelions to the new revelations. Russell looked perplexed by events, but Lilith appeared to have accepted them and moved on. “Whether they’re seeing visions from the gods or interpreting nature, doesn’t it really boil down to mere guess work?”

Andreas’s lips twitched. Count on Lilith to be the skeptical one. It was not surprising that she and Arianna got along so well.

“Perhaps.” Daron shrugged. “I am not so much interested in the truth of such predictions as knowing what the O-Seven believes is the truth.”

“So we can figure out what they’re likely to do,” Russell said, drawing the logical conclusion.

“That was the idea. However, until we have better information, we will have to—as Lilith says—make our best guess.”

“That’s not hard. The O-Seven wants Andreas and Ari dead or under their control.” The lioness titled her head toward Andreas to elicit his opinion. “Porbius already voted for death once, but Bastian seems on the fence. Does he have some use for you? Something the rest of the council doesn’t know?”

“I would not be surprised,” Andreas said. “He keeps trying to recruit me…and was uncomfortable when Porbius showed up.”

Mike spoke up. “Can we turn them against one another? It sounds as if they don’t like each other.”

Daron made a gruff sound in his throat. “None of the elders like each other. But these two do seem to have a special animosity.” He pursed his lips. “Bastian’s ambitions may have grown to the point that he foresees a future without the rest of the elders. That would be an incredibly interesting development to sit back and watch—if you, Andreas, were not caught in the middle.” He gave Andreas an assessing look. “If Bastian wants you on his side, he may be willing to avoid a showdown as long as he believes you could change your mind.”

“It is more than me or Arianna.” Andreas punctuated his words with sharp gestures. “Bastian is seeking allies, gathering IOUs, wherever he can get them. He is here, is he not? So, what happens next? How do we keep him hopeful?”

“Wait a minute.” Lilith sat forward in her chair. “Ari gets back tonight. If you hope to convince Bastian that we’ll play along with his ambitions, you’d have to keep her away from him.” She appealed to Andreas. “You know I’m right. She…lets it all hang out there.”

Andreas’s lips curved briefly at this somewhat accurate description of his wife. It was difficult for her to hide her true feelings, especially her hatred for the O-Seven. But he’d seen her do it if the stakes were high enough.

“She will cope if she has to, but the need may not arise. Arianna returns to Riverdale shortly after seven, but her plane will not arrive in Toronto until midnight. Even with a late start, the meeting may be over by then.”

Lilith narrowed her eyes. “I just heard about the one-hour delay. What’s that about? Flexing their muscles? Or are they up to something?”

Everyone had an opinion, but no one knew the answer. If the elders were engaged in some nefarious plot, they’d probably know soon.

“We could be here all night trying to figure them out, but what are we going to do about it?” Mike finally asked. “We know Porbius is spoiling for a fight. These guys have dangerous psychic abilities. If they get seriously pissed, how do we avoid being wiped out?”

Before anyone could respond, the doors opened and Gabriel walked in followed by Raphael and Bolivar. Surprised to see them, Andreas glanced at his watch. Five-thirty. They had wasted almost two hours.

“What’s this about a message?” Bolivar demanded.

Daron motioned toward the table. “We were discussing it. Please join us.”

Once they were seated, they brought the newcomers up to speed. By the time they returned to Mike’s question, Andreas churned with frustration. He took a deep breath and took a good look at the faces of his companions. He wasn’t the only one feeling the stress.

Daron’s tension showed in the way his fingers drummed on the table. “My biggest concern is a psychic attack from the entire council. Andreas knows how bad that can be, but with Bastian and Porbius in the same room with us, even a small amount of power from Germany would be insurmountable.”

Startled, Andreas glanced up at him. “Are you implying it would be different if you could cut them off from the other elders? That you and I have the power to stop Bastian—a master of mind control—and Porbius? Perhaps you do, but I am not even close to that level.”

“You might not need to be,” Daron said. “I have thought of a rather radical way to even the odds.”

“Which is?” Andreas and Daron were talking to one another now, ignoring the others around the table. They were the only two that would be in the room with the elders, and if things went wrong, they would be the first to die.

“Iron. Cold iron. We could seal the room with it.”

Andreas stared at him, thinking. “It would absorb most of the magic, including ours. Everyone would be forced to rely on ordinary skills.” He lounged back in his chair. Yes, the elders would be cut off, and so would he. Contact with Arianna would be impossible, but if things went as planned, she’d be back in Riverdale and they would have talked before the meeting started. The elders’ delay might actually work to his advantage.

He sorted through the possibilities of what would happen if it came to a fight. Daron was bulky and strong; probably a good match for Bastian who had a similar build. Andreas was quick, and his athletic abilities were good. Not as good as Porbius. He shot a look at Daron. “You realize that Porbius has exceptional agility, which may carry over to his hand-to-hand combat. He leapt on top of a building last night.”

Daron shrugged. “We can hope that it is magic-based. We will have armed guards outside if needed. Do you have a better suggestion?”

“Not off hand.”

Russell turned to Mike. “It would have to be a small meeting room. Could we line every wall, the floor and ceiling, and seal them before eight o’clock?”

“I get to shoot anyone that tries to leave without our OK,” Lilith said.

“I’d love a chance at them with my sword,” Gabriel said. “Have I mentioned the duel I fought in London?”

Mike ignored the side comments and stood. “I’m sure we can get it done in time. How about using one of the five anterooms?”

“If we are all agreed on the plan, then take your pick.” Daron eyed Andreas for confirmation.

Andreas nodded, and his lips curved. “I begin to understand Gabriel’s sense of anticipation. If the elders are plotting to overpower us with their magical abilities, the looks on their faces when they discover the power drain will be worth whatever comes next.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Abigail lay awake in the dark. The storm had stopped by the time they’d left the shelter of the ruin, but both of them were still soaked when they’d reached Fico. Her emotions were a jumble of amazement, awe, fear, panic, excitement…and love. She had no idea why Andreas couldn’t hear the sheer volume of her thoughts when he stole a last kiss outside the inn.

Once inside, she spent the rest of the evening cleaning her wet, muddy clothes, bathing—which was a complicated process in 1813—washing her hair—which was even worse—and trying not to obsess about everything that had happened. When she and her clothes were clean again, she packed what she could, left the rest out to dry, and crawled into bed.

She sighed, happy yet unsettled, and placed a hand gently over her stomach. A new life. A miracle. She’d thought any hope of children was gone when she’d fallen in love with a vampire.

Abigail sat up in bed, filled with sudden insight.

If the Goddess approves, there is always a way. That’s what Rosalina had said to her years ago. When she’d had the first dreams of Andreas—the dreams that would fulfill the Legend of Ramora and reveal her soul mate—she had consulted the family seer.

She smiled, recalling how she’d tried to deny it, arguing, among other things, that she couldn’t be mated with a vampire because they were sterile and she had a duty to produce the next generation.

Had Rosalina known what would happen when she uttered those words or just trusted in destiny?

Abigail lay down again, calmer now. But what about the more practical, personal issues? She was leaving tomorrow, taking the baby beyond Andreas’s reach. She hadn’t said anything to him, but she’d been tempted. Was silence the right thing?

And what about when she got home? What would he think then? Would he be pleased with the way destiny that had caught up with them? She rolled on her side, her eyelids drooping as she drifted toward sleep. A smile crept across her lips, and one hand still cupped her stomach.

* * *

Abigail woke to sounds of a busy inn and voices in the yard. She’d slept late. She stretched and sat up, the thought of the baby bringing an instant grin. She got up, pulled her dress over her head, and sat on the edge of the bed staring at her shoes. Despite her best efforts to clean them, they were still covered with dried streaks of mud. She grabbed a handkerchief and began to scrub them again.

Today was her last day. All she needed was the ring, and she could go home. Abigail’s hand paused in the act of wiping the second shoe. Her heart took a hard thump.

What if she didn’t go? What would it be like to stay here, make a life with Andreas, and raise their child together? He loved her, even now, even before any of the life they’d shared back home. Tuscany was beautiful, and they could be a normal family without interference from the O-Seven. Andreas would never go back to London, and he would never become a vampire.

They could be happy.

The future would be changed.

And she’d never know Andreas, the vampire prince.

Her chest tightened with a pain so sharp she nearly gasped. She took a shaky breath and began polishing the shoe again.

After she finished dressing, she made sure her belongings were neatly collected in her bag, and she took one more look around.

She heard a knock at her door. It was one of the servants.

“You have a visitor, Signorina.”

Andreas?

Abigail hurried down the stairs and stopped at the bottom.

“Emily, you’ve saved me the trouble of tracking you down today. Thomas will arrive this afternoon, and I’ll be leaving. Can you stay for coffee and talk for a while?”

“Naturally.” Emily wrapped her in a quick hug. “That’s why I’m here. I couldn’t allow you to leave without wishing you luck on your journey.”

They walked into the side room that was still set with the breakfast tray and a basket of fancy breads. Abigail poured two cups of espresso.

Emily sat down and gave Abigail a knowing look. “You’ve spent a lot of time with Andreas the last week. What happens now? Are you just going to leave?”

Abigail sighed. “I have to. I admit I’ll miss him, but we’ve always known I would return to America. It’s where I live. I have a life there.”

“You don’t have Andreas there.”

If only she knew, but there was no way Abigail could reveal that secret. “There is someone…very like him.”

“Oh.” Emily absorbed that. “Does Andreas know?”

“No. And you must not tell him.” Abigail leaned forward and spoke urgently, anxious to make her understand. “Promise me. I don’t want to hurt him. I know it sounds strange, because I haven’t known him long, but I…I love them both.”

“I won’t tell.” Emily glanced around and lowered her voice. “What a wonderful…and awful situation.” She placed her hand over Abigail’s. “Do be happy. I hope you will think about us from time to time.”

“More often than you can imagine.”

They had almost finished their breakfast when they heard the sounds of a new arrival in the foyer. And then raised voices.

“Did someone say your name?” Emily asked. “Your brother may be here.”

Abigail shoved her cup aside and hurried to the morning room door. Manfred, Signor Valvano’s manservant, was halfway up the stairs to the second floor rooms; Signora Paglia was barring the way, speaking sternly in rapid Italian.

“Are you looking for me?” Abigail stepped forward.

Manfred’s head swung around. He abandoned Mrs. Paglia and hurried toward Abigail. “Signorina Foster, you must come at once. Signor… he will not wake up. He told me if something happened I should get you.”

“Oh, no.” Despite expecting the news, her heart contracted. “Where is Andreas? Have you sent for the doctor?”

“Si, Si! All is taken care of.” The normally calm manservant was clearly distressed.

Abigail turned to Emily and took her hand. “Thank you for everything. You’ve been an amazing friend to me. But I think I should go.”

“Of course. You must see if there is anything you can do.” Emily followed them outside and waved good-bye to Abigail as Manfred drove the carriage away from the inn. “Have a safe journey to America.”

Abigail returned the wave, then focused on Manfred. “How bad is it?”

“I am afraid Signor nears the end.”

There seemed nothing more to say after that, so Abigail rode in silence until they reached the De Luca casa. Manfred left the team in front of the house and escorted her inside.

Andreas sat next to Fredrico’s bed with his head bowed. He looked up and stood when she entered. “Abigail. Thank you for coming. I would not have sent for you, but Manfred insisted.” He frowned at the servant.

“Signor Fredrico left me clear instructions,” Manfred said. “I have done as he wished, now I must take care of the team.” He left without waiting to see if Andreas had anything more to say. Or maybe he hurried away to avoid his questions.

Abigail glanced at the still figure in the bed. “I was happy to come. I promised Fredrico I would be here. It seemed important to him.”

“He took quite a liking to you.” Andreas’s smile was warm, intimate. “Of course, that does not surprise me.” He motioned to the chair. “Please have a seat. How do you feel today?”

“What?” Abigail’s gaze whipped to his face so fast she almost stumbled. He couldn’t possibly know about the baby.

“After getting caught in the rain.” He raised a questioning brow. “I trust you did not suffer any ill effects?”

“Oh, no. I’m fine.” Then she blushed, wondering if he was really referring to the lovemaking. Well, she was fine about that too.

She sat by the bed and studied the old man’s face. He looked peaceful, but distant. It was the eyes, she decided. With them closed, the lively intelligence that was such a part of Fredrico was missing. The covers were pulled up to his chest, which barely moved from his shallow breathing. His hands lay at his sides, unnaturally still…and bare.

She stifled a gasp. Where was the ring? She couldn’t have come this far to fail now. He normally wore two rings and both were gone. Were they removed and set aside before he went to bed? She stole a glance around the room, but didn’t see the emerald or the small gold ring he wore on the other hand. She couldn’t ask. What now?

The doctor arrived a few minutes later. She and Andreas stepped out during the examination, but it didn’t take long.

“He is beyond my help.” The doctor shook his head sympathetically as he carried his medical bag toward the front door and his carriage waiting outside. “I doubt he shall wake again. I’ll be back this evening.”

Once the doctor left, it was just a matter of waiting. Andreas left twice to deal with vineyard workers at the door. On the one occasion that Andreas and Manfred were both absent from the room, Abigail made a quick search for the ring without finding anything. She hadn’t quite made it back to her seat when Manfred returned.

“Just stretching my legs,” she explained.

His face revealed nothing. “I have—” He stopped as Andreas entered the room. “I was just about to tell Signorina Foster that refreshments are set up in the morning room. It may be a long day.” He bowed and left.

Abigail looked after him thoughtfully. Was that really what he’d intended to say? Did he suspect she’d been searching the room? An uneasy knot tightened in her chest as if she’d done something wrong.

After the short break, where neither Abigail nor Andreas ate much, they took a stroll around the garden, and then returned to sit at Fredrico’s bedside. They talked occasionally, and Andreas recounted stories of his great-papa taking the De Luca boys fishing, and teaching them to ride, and the excursion to their first prize fight. Late in the afternoon, Fredrico drew his last breath and peacefully slipped away.

Andreas slumped with his head lowered into both hands. She rose and placed her hand on his shoulder. After several minutes, he covered her hand with his, got up, and they left the room.

Abigail’s heart was heavy. Sadness at Fredrico’s death and her failure to obtain the precious heirloom mixed in a despair that brought her close to tears. How could she go home without the ring? The virge wouldn’t be enough. Fredrico had said it was only for temporary use. The real power was in the Valvano crest.

So what were her options? Rob the house after they were asleep? Where would she look? Did they have a safe? She hated the role of a cat burglar. It was a betrayal of the hospitality shown by this family.

She sighed in resignation. Whatever it took. She’d have to return at dark, cloak herself in an invisibility spell, and search the entire house.

“It was good of you to stay. Thank you.” Andreas spoke from directly behind her.

Guilt kept her from looking at him. She headed toward the front door. “He was a sweet man, and I very much enjoyed meeting him. I’m so sorry for your loss, but I must go now. My brother should be at the inn. I left a message, but he will be anxious for my return.”

“Abigail, please look at me.”

Her steps faltered, and she reluctantly turned.

“I don’t know what to say to you,” he admitted. His voice was uncertain. “So much has happened in such a short time. Should I apologize for yesterday?”

She took a quick step forward, holding out her hands. “Please don’t. I’m not sorry for anything that happened between us. I will always remember our time together.”

He captured her hands in his, drawing her within inches of an embrace. “I don’t suppose you would consider staying?”

She met his gaze, and a thousand thoughts collided in her head. What if she did? Would changing the future really matter? Would it make a difference to the world if Andreas never became a vampire?

“I can’t,” she said. “But part of me wishes I could.”

Manfred cleared his throat from the doorway, and Abigail pulled away.

“Sorry to interrupt, sir, but the family rings are lying on your desk. Do you wish me to place them in the safe?”

“Yes, Manfred. Thank you. I won’t be needing them.”

Abigail drew in a quick breath. The ring was so close. She resisted a wild urge to run into his study and snatch it. At least she knew she’d be looking for a safe.

“And Manfred, please have the carriage pulled around. Signorina Foster returns to America today.”

“Very good, sir.” He bowed and left the room.

Abigail and Andreas walked slowly toward the front drive. She laid a hand on his arm as the carriage pulled up.

“Let’s say good-bye here. You have arrangements to make, and your driver can take me back. I’d like to remember you here at the casa.” She fought back tears, knowing if she cried it would be harder on both of them.

“Since I do not want to say good-bye at all, here is as good a place as any.” Ignoring the servant on the carriage and Manfred who had just come out of the house, Andreas bent his head and kissed her. “I will miss you more than I can say,” he whispered.

“Me, too.” Blinking rapidly, she allowed him to hand her into the carriage.

“Signorina.” Manfred hurried forward. “Signor Fredrico asked me to give you this when the time came. It is the Chinese letter opener you admired.”

Her gaze flew to Andreas’s face, and they smiled at one another, remembering his early suspicions.

“It is a fitting gift,” he said.

“Thank you, Manfred. I will think of Fredrico whenever I see it.” She tucked the box in her cloth purse and nodded to the driver. A tear trickled down her face as she waved good-bye one last time.

Arriving at the inn, she dried her tears, hurried inside, and grabbed her bag. She dumped her old-fashioned purse inside, a slight smile curving her lips as she thought about the letter opener. Fredrico had such a quick wit and dry sense of humor. Since she’d never actually seen the letter opener, she slipped the box out and opened the lid for a peek.

She gasped and dropped the box. It clattered to the floor and the contents rolled across the room. The Chinese letter opener wasn’t the only thing inside. The emerald ring twinkled on the floor.

“Oh, Fredrico.” She collapsed to her knees and burst into tears. He’d taken steps to put the ring in her hands; even in his final hours he’d done his best to ensure Andreas’s future. She sighed, wondering what he’d said to his manservant, and sent a silent thank you to Manfred too.

Abigail wiped her eyes. She couldn’t let any of them down now. She had to get back to Riverdale and make a difference.

She collected the box and its contents, stored them away in her bag, and headed down the stairs.

Mrs. Paglia was at the front desk. Abigail called “Grazie” to her and kept walking. The best way to avoid questions about her fictitious brother was to act as if she was hurrying on her way to meet him somewhere. This time the language barrier was a blessing.

She continued briskly through town, which was almost deserted this late in the day and reached the outskirts without meeting anyone she knew. In order to reverse the time travel, she needed to leave from the same place where she’d arrived, and that had been one of the first places she’d located while driving around the countryside. She’d figured out a short cut that would get her to that dirt road within fifteen minutes.

As she covered the short distance, she was already thinking ahead. What was happening in Toronto? Would she be in time? Would the heirlooms make a difference? Her stomach fluttered nervously, a reminder of her other concern. What would Andreas say about the baby?

She rounded the last bend, checked both directions to make sure she was alone, and stopped in the middle of the road. A faint touch of magic verified she’d found the designated spot. Abigail reached out for the vortex’s power and started the magical chant. As the air around her began to change, she almost stepped back. What if she’d miscalculated? What if the vortex took her to a place where neither Andreas existed? Could she bear to lose them both? Before she could process the thought, the abyss of nothingness dragged her under.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

7:12. She was due back at 7:12.

Andreas shifted impatiently under Gabriel’s scrutiny and kept an eye on his watch. 7:14. 7:15. Still nothing from his magical link with Arianna. He opened the mental gate wider.

7:20. Something had gone wrong. His chest tightened with the simple admission. Every instinct yelled at him to rush home, yank her back through the vortex. But it did not work that way. He clenched his fists in helpless frustration.

Gabriel hadn’t asked for an update after Andreas’s initial sharp reply.

Andreas tried to call Oliver, who was supposed to be waiting for Arianna at Spirit Cave, but of course it went to voice mail. No service in the caverns.

7:30.

Gabriel stood. “She’ll make it, somehow. If anyone can find a way, Ari will. It’s time we joined the others.”

Andreas nodded tersely.

They found Raphael, Bolivar, and several shapeshifter leaders with Daron in the audience chambers. This was the designated waiting area while Andreas and Daron met with the elders in the anteroom. The other leaders had wanted to be on hand to hear the results as soon as the eight o’clock meeting ended.

At 7:40 Andreas attempted to call Oliver again. When the call switched to the recording, he clicked off and stuffed the phone in his pocket.

Daron glanced at him. “No word from her?” Except for Mike and Andreas’s people, the leaders present were not aware of Ari’s whereabouts, just that she appeared to be out of contact and Andreas was getting worried.

“Nothing.” He bit off the word. His mind ran wild with possibilities of what had kept her beyond her scheduled time. He refused to believe she would not make it back. He took a deep breath and flexed his shoulders. He had to focus on the elders and dealing with whatever trickery they were plotting. Their hour-long delay was motivated by nothing good. Andreas was certain of that.

He flinched at a sharp surge of apprehension. If she did not make it back, it would make no difference to him what the elders did. He began to pace to wear off the tense edge of energy. Gabriel followed his restless movements with worry written across his face. Daron glanced at him from time to time.

At 7:58 one of Daron’s shifters reported that Bastian was in the compound.

“Just Bastian?” Daron asked.

“Yes, he’s alone. Since he asked if Porbius was here, they may be coming separately.”

Daron stood, his swift movement conveying his surprise. “A curious development. Show him to the meeting room. Let us find out what he has to say.”

Andreas rose to follow, then jerked to an abrupt halt. The possibility hit him all at once. “Hell’s fire!” He whipped out his cell phone and dialed his security officer in Riverdale.

“What the…” Daron spun around, mirroring the alarm of others in the room.

Andreas ignored them. His officer picked up.

“Have you heard from Oliver?” Andreas asked. “Porbius is missing. I want to be certain he isn’t in Riverdale.”

Gabriel swore, loudly.

“Nothing from Oliver, sir,” his security officer answered.

“Dispatch a runner to the caverns. Call me the minute you learn anything.” He ended the call and clutched his fist around the phone as if he could strangle Porbius through it.

“Well, what did they say?” Daron demanded, anxiety written across his face.

“They don’t know.” What was happening at the vortex? If Porbius was responsible for Arianna’s absence, Andreas would personally drag him through the fires of hell.

He thrust the phone into Gabriel’s hands. “They will call when they know anything. Break down the door if you need me.”

Before Gabriel could respond, Andreas turned away and stalked toward the shielded room. Bastian might be the one man who could answer his question.

Daron grabbed his arm. “Not yet. You are too angry. Let me start.” Daron pushed past him.

Bastian stood on the other side of the small table. He scowled as Mike brought up the rear with an assault rifle on his shoulder.

“What is this?” Bastian asked. “We agreed that no one else would be in the room.”

“Your rules, not mine,” Daron said. “Will Porbius be joining us?”

“I do not know.”

Andreas’s tension spiked higher, and he couldn’t keep quiet. “Why not?” He had not expected to see Bastian look so ruffled, so uncertain. Either the elder was alarmed by Porbius’s behavior, or this was all part of their act.

“I have no idea where he is. The meeting was delayed at his request, but I have not seen him since late afternoon. The situation could be worsening faster than I predicted.”

“What does that mean?” Andreas took an aggressive step forward. “Is Porbius in Riverdale?”

Bastian frowned. “I do not think so.” He appeared to consider the possibility. “I have no reason to think that, unless you are aware of something I am not.”

“It wouldn’t be the first attack on my court.” Andreas kept his gaze locked with Bastian’s.

The elder cocked his head. “Why would he go after your court? Or is it Arianna who has you so alarmed? I continue to wonder why we have not seen her.”

Andreas got control of his temper. “I believe I mentioned she would be joining us later.”

“Ah, yes, I had forgotten.”

Like hell. Bastian was fishing for information, which actually made Andreas feel better. If Bastian didn’t know where Arianna was, then Porbius might not either. He sighed and shrugged at Daron.

“Perhaps Porbius is merely delayed.” Daron gestured toward the table. “Shall we talk while we wait? I would be interested in hearing if the council has made a decision regarding the proposed alliance.”

Bastian sat and stretched back in his chair, outwardly composed. “Certainly they have. The answer is no. Has Andreas told you I made him another offer?”

“He mentioned it.”

“I bet he did.” Bastian laughed. His gaze flitted to Andreas. “I suppose that means your answer is also no.”

“It is. So why don’t you tell us what you came to say and we can go from there?”

Bastian continued to feign his usual indifference and boredom. “You mean the part where you have been declared an enemy of the elders’ council, your court is up for grabs, and there is a hefty price on your head? I assumed you knew all that.”

“I did.” Andreas’s smile was just as manufactured as Bastian’s nonchalance. “But it is always good to clear the air. Are you the one sent to enforce this mandate?”

“I was. Porbius and I.”

“I am flattered the council thought it would take two of you.”

“We like to be sure of things.” Bastian’s smile revealed a bit of fang. “Actually, I volunteered. Porbius had requested that Lucris accompany him, but I convinced the court I would be a better choice. Luc can be intractable.” Bastian turned up his palm in a careless gesture. “He knows only one way to settle a conflict, and I had hoped your death would not be necessary.”

Andreas glanced at Daron. He’d dropped out of the conversation and had been studying his sire during this exchange. Had he seen anything? Bastian didn’t revealed much, but the flicker of an eye, the shadow of a frown, might mean something to Daron. Andreas raised a brow in his direction.

Daron picked up the cue by throwing down a verbal gauntlet. “Do I perceive trouble within the elders’ court? Your distrust of Porbius is blatant, and your own business seems contrary to the council’s. A parting of the ways, perhaps?”

Bastian’s laugh dripped with scorn. “You have given in to your delusions. The council has stood fast for two thousand years and more. We are not the most amiable group, but nothing can divide us to the extent you hope.” He shifted in his chair to spear Andreas with a black look. “If I am concerned about Porbius, it is because he has a tendency to be impulsive, to create situations that others have to fix. As you will see, it is nothing I cannot handle.” His eyes narrowed to slits, his pupils darkened, and he seemed to take in a long breath. A call to power.

Andreas’s muscles tensed. Bastian was attempting to wrap his energy around him for some kind of power play. Would the iron shield hold?

The surge of power never materialized.

Bastian leapt to his feet, his eyes scanning the walls and ceiling. “What is this? What have you done?”

Mike stepped forward, the rifle aimed at Bastian’s chest. “Sit down.”

Daron gave a grim look. “Iron shielding. Vampiric powers will not work in here. This is why we brought security.”

“You honestly believe you can hold me captive?” Astonishment rippled in Bastian’s voice. “You must have more of me in you than I thought. But what do you hope to accomplish?”

“Staying alive would be my first goal,” Andreas said, drawing Bastian’s attention. “Beyond that? I don’t believe we have decided on your fate.”

Daron chuckled. “Sit down, Bastian. It is time we talked as honestly as three master vampires can manage. We do not want war with the O-Seven, but we will not run from it. Your council has made many enemies. We won’t have trouble finding allies, here or in Europe, if we need them.”

A loud pounding on the door interrupted them. Andreas shot to his feet. Was it news of Arianna? He strode toward the door.

Mike moved next to Bastian. The moment the door opened, the iron shielding would be breached, returning Bastian’s powers until the door closed again. The werewolf trained his rifle on Bastian’s head. “If you even twitch, I’ll open fire.

Bastian sat back and smirked at them.

Andreas yanked open the door.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Blackness. What was wrong? Instead of the instant transfer through the vortex that she’d experienced before, Ari was surrounded by darkness, broken only by infrequent swirls of gray. She flailed her arms. Her heart pounded with rising fear. She gulped down two long breaths, forcing her body to remain still. She needed a clear head, not panic. Where had the spell gone wrong?

It came to her in a flash. The Valvano ring. Its magic would have changed the essence of her, and added a variable they hadn’t planned on for her return. Her mind whirled, her instincts kicking into survival mode. It would be impossible to figure out the proper coordinates, and even if she could, how would she input them? The spell had been invoked. It’s not as if it she could recall it and start over.

Placing her free hand on her magic pouch, she thought about the items inside—spell capsules, potion vials, amulets. Nothing that would cure this crisis. She reached out with her magical senses hoping for a spark of light or sound or smell to guide her. She could feel things were out there, beyond the darkness and the swirls. Beyond this hellish limbo.

She stretched her magical threads far beyond anything she’d attempted before, traversing what? Distance? Time? Dimensions?

A far away echo. Her head came up, and she peered into the dark void. She sensed more than saw a pinprick of magical energy—calling to her. Her heart beat a little faster. It had to be her link with Andreas. Then she lost her tenuous hold with that tiny spark. She closed her eyes and tried again, focusing on the direction of origin, but the swirling miasma around her was all the same. No beginning, no end, no path in the darkness.

Her shoulders sagged.

What if? She pulled up the old-fashioned travel bag she’d been clutching in one hand and dug through its contents. Maybe the Valvano magic, the source of her dilemma, could help her get out of it. She slipped the ring on the middle finger of her right hand, closed her fist tightly so she wouldn’t drop it, and sent her magic out again. If she could pick up that small echo that led to Andreas, the ring would recognize its master and be drawn toward him. Could the two magics working together get her home?

She drifted without contact for minutes or hours. Time was immeasurable. Numbness invaded the edges of her mind from the tremendous outpouring of energy used in her search. Clouds of vague nothingness floated around her body, at first cocooning her, then dissolving her essence, lulling her into forgetfulness. Meaninglessness.

A small tug, then a sharp jerk brought her alert as the magics connected with a distant source. Had she actually moved? It was hard to tell, but she felt the pull of an invisible force. Her breath quickened. Yes, she was moving toward something. Slowly at first, then the darkness fled by faster and faster…and faster still.

A loud whoosh.

She fell on a hard rock surface and the wind left her lungs in a rush. She used her hands to push herself upward—and looked into the concerned face of Oliver, Andreas’s third-in-command.

“You’re late,” he said.

Ari began to laugh, the moment almost erupting into hysteria, then she stopped abruptly. “What’s happened to Andreas? Oliver, there’s no link!”

The vampire caught her arm. “He’s fine. I should have started with that. It must be eight o’clock, and he’s gone behind iron-shielded walls.”

“Iron?” She tried to focus on what that meant. “Then he’s OK?” Her voice tight, she searched Oliver’s face.

“Yes, I had a message brought to me just minutes ago. He’s fine, except he was concerned about you.”

She sagged with relief.

“What took so long? Was there a problem?”

She looked around for the clothes she’d left behind two days ago. They were waiting in a neat pile. “Nothing I couldn’t handle,” she said. “Can you wait outside? I’m dying to get out of this dress and into my jeans.”

She changed in record time and met Oliver in the tunnel. Her only priority now was to get the Valvano ring to Andreas.

Oliver had a car parked at the cliff-top, and true to Andreas’s word, the jet was back in Riverdale and waiting at the airport. She hadn’t been in the air more than ten minutes when she was jolted upright. Energy surged through her psychic link with Andreas. She drew in a long breath, and excitement danced in her veins. She couldn’t contain the smile that spread across her face.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Andreas stepped outside the room, closing it firmly behind him. He registered the presence of Gabriel and Lilith, then froze. So much pleasure flooded him that he could hardly catch his breath. He threw the psychic link wide open and drew Arianna’s energy to him, basking in the warmth and wild power that was uniquely her.

He held up his hands to stop the flow of words from Gabriel and Lilith. He had an idiotic urge to shout, sharing his feelings with the world.

“Arianna.”

“Andreas.”

For a moment that was all they said.

“I’m coming. I have the heirlooms.”

“Oh, cara mia. I shall be waiting.”

“I love you.”

“Ti adoro. And, Arianna, be careful. We have Bastian contained, but Porbius is on the loose somewhere.”

“See you soon.”

She shut down the link, but not before Andreas felt another momentary thread of magic. He frowned, puzzled over what that meant. Then his brow cleared. The Valvano heirlooms would emit a magic of their own.

He composed himself and turned toward Gabriel, noting his friend’s solemn face.

“Andreas, you’re not—

“She’s back,” Lilith blurted, interrupting Gabriel.

Andreas flashed a grin at her. Although Gabriel’s face told him they had a serious problem, he appreciated Lilith’s priorities. “Yes, she is on her way. I take it you have had a more conventional communication. Do you have an ETA?”

“Twelve-thirty or one, depending on traffic once they touch down.”

He acknowledged the information, then frowned at Gabriel. “All right. Since Porbius isn’t attacking Arianna, where is he?”

Gabriel didn’t mince words. “Toronto. He’s taken the Magic Council hostage. They’re all under his thrall.”

“Damnation!” Andreas stared at his second-in-command, momentarily stunned by the elder’s boldness. “What does he hope to gain?” Andreas’s pent-up tension and frustration exploded. “Come with me. If Bastian is involved, we have a snake in our house.” He spun around and flung the door open.

Daron got up and shut it behind him. Bastian sat calmly at the table, with Mike’s rifle still pointed at his head.

Slapping his palms loudly on the table, Andreas loomed over Bastian. “Did you know that Porbius was going to enthrall the Magic Council?”

“What?” Daron roared, coming to the table.

Bastian recoiled, and his normally bored demeanor registered an instant of shock before he shut it down. “I did not. Would I be here if I did?”

“Of course you would. To keep us busy while he carried out his plan.” Andreas’s eyes flashed with anger. He stiffened his arms to keep from reaching for the elder’s throat.

“You are wrong.” Bastian’s quiet voice held a clear warning. “I have done nothing to invite such wrath.”

“Andreas, tell us what happened,” Daron demanded. “Are you talking about the Toronto Magic Council?”

“Yes.” Andreas jerked his head toward Gabriel. “Tell them.” As Gabriel began to explain, Andreas straightened and raked his hands through his hair, then dropped into a chair at the table.

“I don’t know all the details. He’s using Zoe, the guardian, as his spokesperson, and she doesn’t talk like herself. She says he enthralled the council and wants Andreas and Arianna to be delivered into his hands for what he calls ‘judgment…and execution.’”

“The entire council?” Daron scowled at Bastian. “I thought you were the one with the superior mind control abilities. Can Porbius actually control them all?”

“How many people are we talking about?” Bastian asked.

“At least a hundred.”

“Interesting he should try. He can do it. Any of the elders could, but it will be a tremendous drain to maintain such a hold for long. I assume at least some of them are vampires or sorcerers with the ability to resist?”

“No more than a dozen.”

“Manageable,” Bastian conceded. “The rest would be easy. The shifters have no resistance.” He paused as if thinking. “The elves and dwarves must have been caught off guard.” He shook his head. “And this guardian, who I recall is part witch and part elf. If his control wavers, she may break free.” He lifted a shoulder. “Porbius should have consulted me. I would have advised him to incapacitate or kill her…and several others.” Having delivered this provocative statement, he leaned back in his chair, his usual composure regained.

Andreas’s nostrils flared. “Then I suppose it is fortunate we have you locked in here, unable to advise anyone.” A large part of him wanted to kill Bastian now while they had the opportunity. Yes, it would be declaring war on the O-Seven, but wasn’t that where they were anyway? Porbius couldn’t be allowed to walk away from this, especially if he murdered the members of the Magic Council.

Bastian’s smile was frigid. “Do you honestly believe you control me?”

Andreas’s gaze didn’t leave Bastian’s face. He didn’t trust him, iron walls or no. Did Bastian have some unknown resistance to iron? Suddenly, the shifters seemed vulnerable, the whole plan seemed in jeopardy.

He motioned for Mike to hand him the rifle. “Get out of here, Mike, Lilith, and send in another vampire. Someone old.”

“Vernon,” Daron clarified. “He is the oldest in the compound, and he knows how to handle firearms. Gabriel, go with them and send someone to the Magic Council Hall to verify what we have been told. I want to know we are not reacting to some kind of trickery.”

“I’ll take care of it.” Gabriel left with the shifters.

“Honestly, this is not necessary. I have made no move to harm anyone.” Bastian waved a careless hand at the rifle in his face. “I would prefer that you remove this weapon.” He scowled as if he were losing patience.

“We are in no immediate danger, Andreas.” Daron regarded his sire with speculation. “If Bastian could tap enough power to put either of us under his spell, he would have done so.” Daron leaned close to Bastian face. “I know you better than you think.”

Andreas withdrew from the private confrontation between sire and offspring but leaned against the back wall with the gun still in firing position.

“How so?” The elder locked eyes with Daron.

“Self-interest is all that motivates you, but you rarely lift a finger unless success is certain or the reward is so enticing that you cannot resist.” Daron straightened and took a couple of steps away, turning to look down at Bastian. “Everything is a calculation with you, and you would not risk your own skin on a mere impulse.”

“Interesting analysis. I believe we are all motivated by self-interest, but I hardly think you can spare the time for a philosophical discussion with Porbius threatening to annihilate your Magic Council. If he does so, he will launch us into a war that is in no one’s best interests.” His gaze swung to include Andreas. “I will help you deal with Porbius. For a price.”

Andreas laughed scornfully. “Let me guess. The price is our loyalty. Really, Bastian, your demands for fealty are growing tiresome. We do not live in a feudal society in this hemisphere.”

“All I ask is that you return the favor.”

“How?” Daron demanded.

“There may come a time that I need my First Son to stand beside me.”

Daron stared at him from under bristling brows. “For centuries you have been steadfast in denying you had a First Son. The situation must be dire indeed.”

The door opened to interrupt them, and a vampire with auburn hair entered. He closed the door before addressing Daron. “My prince?”

“Vernon, I believe you know Andreas and Bastian.” He pointed to Bastian. “I want you to guard my sire with the rifle, and if he makes a move you interpret as threatening, eliminate him.”

Vernon’s eyes hardened as he turned to the elder. “You try anything, and I’ll splatter you over the walls.”

Bastian turned and looked at Daron with an unreadable expression. “It seems we no longer have any secrets. A discussion for later. For now, do you wish my assistance with Porbius or not?”

Daron’s face was just as closed. “I will consider any future requests from you. That is the best that you will get, and more than I should offer.”

Bastian shrugged and cocked his head at Andreas. “What do you say? But perhaps it is too early to settle this between us. Any agreement would have to include your witch. Is she coming?”

“She will be here.”

“Soon?” Bastian belatedly shrugged, as if it didn’t matter.

Andreas hadn’t missed his poorly disguised interest. “Soon enough.” He glanced at Daron, who hadn’t been told that Arianna was back. Andreas relented and became less cryptic. “I just spoke with her, and she is on her way.”

Daron lifted his gaze and gave a subtle nod. Message received.

A knock on the door brought Vernon forward to cover Bastian. Gabriel stepped inside, shaking his head. “Porbius has the council all right. I think everyone’s alive, but there’s another situation developing. The families have found out and are gathered outside the Magic Hall, demanding the hostages be released. If we don’t quiet them quickly, we’ll have the human police involved.”

“Confound it!” Daron stood, but Andreas beat him to the door.

“Damn. What’s the matter with Porbius?” Bastian ignored Vernon’s gun and got to his feet. “Take me with you. I can control him, if it becomes necessary.”

“Sit down before I take you down,” Vernon said.

“My mind control is stronger than his,” Bastian shouted before Andreas shut the door. “I can free your Magic Council.”

* * *

Toronto’s Magic Hall was a stark contrast to Riverdale’s gothic stone edifice. A modern, three-story structure of brick, steel, and glass in an area of exclusive office buildings, it stood in its own cul-de-sac with an Otherworld Cultural Center to the right, a combination research lab and library to the left. Since most of the workers from other buildings in the area were gone for the night, the crowd of twenty or thirty outside hadn’t yet drawn too much attention.

Daron had called two of the shapeshifter leaders while he and Andreas were on the way. The wolf leader had arrived before them and was talking to the crowd. Someone else had contacted the manager of the cultural center, which turned out to be an excellent decision. Once the manager unlocked the doors, they moved everyone inside and began to calm the families and update them on the situation.

With the crowd under control, Andreas walked outside to study the Magic Hall. The building was dark on the first floor, which he’d been told was a reception and waiting area. An open staircase led from the middle of the first floor to the council chambers on the second floor, and the third floor held all the offices. Lights on the third floor were spotty, but the second floor was lit from one end to the other. That was where Porbius and the council members would be.

The setup was too open. They couldn’t storm the building without being seen, and that would give Porbius too much time to kill the hostages. Somehow they needed to incapacitate him, get the council away from his control, and break the spell.

Andreas frowned, staring up at the second floor. If they killed him—assuming they could—there would be war for certain. What was the alternative? Porbius did not seem like someone you could reason with. Andreas pressed his lips in a grim line. Had he been too hasty in refusing Bastian’s offer of help?

He scuffed his boot against the hard, frozen ground, grimaced, and focused on the windows again. A wrong call and a hundred people would die—all because Porbius wanted revenge for Ursula.

What if he claimed sole responsibility for her death? He could demand the right to a vampire fight to determine his fate. If he lost—and how could he hope to match his skills against an elder?—would Porbius still go after Arianna and his other friends?

He heard a crunch on the brittle, winter ground and recognized Daron’s step.

“Any ideas?” the older vampire asked.

“Nothing that seems workable.” Andreas glanced at him. “I will not turn Arianna over to him, not even to save the Magic Council.”

“Will she give you a choice?”

Andreas gave him a black look. “Not if she can help it.”

Daron clamped his hand on Andreas’s shoulder. “Come back to the compound with me. The families are being cared for, and some of the shapeshifter leaders want to meet with us to work out a rescue plan. Arianna will be here within the hour, and she can speak for herself.”

Andreas took one last look at the hall, then followed Daron to his limousine. Yes. It was time he got to see Arianna for himself. His heart lightened as he stepped into the car and thought about finally holding her again.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Ari paid off the cab a block from Daron’s compound, took a deep breath to calm her excitement, and hurried toward the storefront entrance. She could hardly wait.

Once inside the compound, she waved off an escort and headed straight to the main meeting room. She waved at Mike, standing guard outside the double doors.

“Is he inside?”

“Yep, but he’s not alone. Welcome back.”

“Thanks. I’m glad to be here.” She lifted a brow. “Are the elders still with them?”

Mike frowned and shifted his feet. “I’m not sure how to answer that.”

“What’s that mean? I guess I should find out for myself.” She reached for the door, but Mike stepped in front of her and barred the way. “What gives?”

“Let me get Andreas so he can explain. Just wait here. Things have gotten a little touchy.” He opened the door and slipped inside.

Ari frowned at the closed doors, tempted to follow him. Except he’d acted so funny. This must be some high drama meeting—just the kind she loved to crash.

The doors opened, and Andreas stepped out, a smile lighting his eyes. She launched herself at his neck and hung on. His arms nearly crushed her.

“I could hardly wait to see you,” she whispered, cognizant of Mike standing right beside them.

“Ah, cara mia, you cannot imagine how much I have missed you.” Andreas brushed her lips with his and put her down, keeping a firm grip on one hand. “I wish we had time for a proper welcome, but we have a crisis. We will have to keep this short.” He tugged on her hand. “Let us find some privacy and I will explain.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Yes.”

He led her into a small antechamber across the hall, turned her around, and kissed her until her toes curled. “Welcome home, Arianna.” Still holding her hand, he drew her to sit beside him on a wooden bench and swiftly brought her up to date on the joint meeting with the elders, his conversation with Bastian and then the arrival of Porbius, ending with tonight’s activities.

“Let me get this straight. Porbius has bespelled the entire Toronto Magic Council and you’re holding Bastian captive.”

Andreas nodded. “I believe that sums it up.”

“What do you plan to do next?”

He gave her a rueful look. “I wish I knew. The obvious goal is to free the hostages and send the elders back to Europe without starting a war. The question is how.”

“And Bastian offered to help.”

“He did, but I don’t trust him.”

Ari frowned in thought. “No…but he walked in here alone. Arrogant as the elders are, he had to know he was taking a risk. Daron is almost as old as he is, you’re an unknown quantity, and he was seriously outnumbered.”

“What are you saying?”

“Something strong is motivating him, has been since Germany or even before.” She squeezed Andreas’s hand. “What does he want from you…or us?”

Andreas turned her hand over in both of his, as if examining it. “He spoke of a favor.” He lifted his gaze. “I have the impression that he is seeking allies to support his ambitions and to stand against a threat he believes is coming.”

“A threat? Like what?”

Andreas shook his head. “Not exactly clear, but we may be the perceived threat.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Ask him yourself. He has asked more than once about your arrival and may be more open with you. To this point he has been vague, but I suspect he has been influenced by some mystic’s view of the future.”

Ari studied him. “Are you talking about Zylla’s visions of the destruction of Riverdale or the one where we survive?”

“More than just survive.” Andreas looked at her with troubled eyes. “He seems to believe we are a threat to the existence of the O-Seven.”

“Yeah, right. How would we do that?” She shook her head. “All we’ve ever wanted is to be left alone.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Try telling him that. I did.”

“Then we’ll talk to him again, but first, I have something for you.” She reached in her jacket pocket, pulled out Fredrico’s box, and handed it to him.

His eyes flitted to hers for an instant, then he took it and lifted the lid. “The missing ring.”

“Yes, the Valvano crest, and the wand is the Valvano virge. Fredrico said it is much easier to control the magic with the virge in the beginning. Later you’ll be able to do everything through the ring.”

“You spoke with Fredrico?” There was a hint of wonder in Andreas’s voice.

“Several times. I grew quite fond of him.” She hesitated, then smiled. “I have so much to tell you, but it will have to wait.”

“Of course, you’re right. “ He lifted out the ring first and put it on his finger. “I can feel its magic.” He closed his eyes. “Last night I made the first real connection when it seemed I might be under attack, but this is calmer. As if it were a part of me.”

“That’s the way of witch magic.” Ari laid her hand on his arm. “You’ve made the breakthrough. My magic has always had its most powerful responses during times of crisis. Now you have the virge and the ring to control it. Speaking of rings, don’t you have something that belongs to me?”

“Absolutely.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out her rings. Taking her hand, he paused. “Would you marry me again, my wife?”

“As many times as you want.”

He slipped the rings on her finger, and this time, Ari initiated the kiss. They were both a little heated when they broke the embrace. He pulled her to her feet, and ran his knuckles across her cheek. “I am so glad you are home.”

“Me too. I suppose we need to deal with the elders now.” She sounded wistful, as if she hoped he’d say no.

“Yes, we should, but I want to delay just one more minute.” He picked up the virge, laying it across the palm of one hand. “It almost has a life of its own.” He transferred it to his right hand and stood, holding it in a firm grip. The end began to glow, and Andreas grinned. A streak of lightning shot across the room. A sharp crackle echoed in the enclosed space as it struck the wall.

The door burst open and Mike stood there with his rifle ready to fire. “What was that?”

“Nothing to worry about.” Ari laughed into her hands. “Andreas has a new toy.”

“Never mind.” Andreas winked at his wife and took pity on the confused werewolf. “We were just practicing a little magic.”

“Now?” Mike looked incredulous. “Prince Daron is waiting for you to join him.”

“Yes, we are coming. Right now.” Andreas slipped the virge in his pocket and motioned for Ari to precede him. The grin on his face began to slip as they neared the meeting room.

Mike opened the heavy doors to the audience chambers, and Daron stood to greet them. “Ah, here they are now.”

Lilith, Russell, and Gabriel immediately crowded around Ari to ask questions about “her trip,” and see for themselves that she was all right.

“It was interesting,” Ari admitted, “and I have a lot to tell. Later. It sounds as if we have a problem to solve first.” She lifted her gaze to Daron. “Andreas filled me in on most of what’s happened. While you’re figuring out what we should do about the hostages, I want to talk with Bastian.”

“A waste of time, I fear, but I have no objection,” Daron said.

“Actually, you might. I want to talk with him without guards, no iron shielding to block his magic.”

Andreas whipped his head around. “No. Not alone, and certainly not outside that room.”

The leaders and security people stirred restlessly, but deference to the vampire princes was strong, and none of them interrupted.

“I do not understand, Arianna. You want us to release him?” Daron drew his brows into a frown but his response was more measured than Andreas’s. “What do you gain by taking such a risk? A risk, I might add, to all of us.”

“You can’t keep him confined forever, unless you plan to kill him. I can’t believe you’re ready to do that. So why not release him now, and see what he does?”

Andreas interrupted again. “But, Arianna, why now? We need to rescue the Magic Council before we worry about Bastian.”

“He’s offered to help, hasn’t he? We need to know if he can be trusted. You said he’s been waiting for me to arrive, that he wants something from us. It can’t hurt to find out exactly what it is. Not if there’s the smallest possibility of gaining his help with Porbius.”

Daron’s gaze rested on Andreas. “Perhaps I can suggest a compromise. She can meet with him alone, but he stays in that room. The door will be left open, but if he attempts to use his powers or makes any hostile move, we will seal the door immediately.”

“If no one else is in the room, how will we know if something is wrong?” Mike, always conservative on security issues, was clearly not comfortable with anything that gave Bastian access to his powers.

Daron’s gaze moved from Ari to Andreas. “Andreas will know.”

Andreas gripped her shoulders and turned her around. “Will I?”

His meaning was obvious. Would she keep their link open if she sensed trouble or try to handle it herself?

“Yes, I promise you’ll know.”

He held her gaze, assessing her sincerity. Her magic stirred restlessly under the scrutiny, and suddenly his brows shot up. Doubt, disbelief crossed his face.

Her heart thumped. Not now. Not yet. Not this way.

His grip tightened reflexively on her shoulders, then he dropped his hands and stared at her. The questions…and then the dawning certainty. Oh, Goddess, he’d guessed her secret. She grabbed his sleeve and dragged him toward the door.

“We need to discuss this in private,” she said over her shoulder. “Give us a minute.”

He allowed her to pull him into the hallway. The moment the door closed, he swept her into his arms and swung her around in a circle, not once, but twice. “I never dreamed.” His eyes were no longer uncertain. They were excited. “I felt another magic. Can this be true?”

“It is true.” She studied his face. He looked happy, but what was he thinking? “I can explain.”

“You do not have to explain.” His voice softened as his hand touched her cheek. “Do you think a man ever forgets the first woman he loves?”

“I don’t understand.”

“You. Abigail.”

“You knew? All this time?”

“Not until I saw you in the old-fashioned dress with the dark hair.”

She shook her head in confusion. “If any memory was there… I thought vampires had perfect recall.”

“Only of what happens to them as vampires. The memories from before fade as you would expect after two hundred years…except for Abigail.” He caught her hand. “But a child. That I did not know.”

“No, she…I…I didn’t tell you. It seemed too cruel to tell you…him and then leave.” Her brows pulled into a frown. “Are you OK with this?”

“OK with it?” His eyes gleamed. “I am ecstatic. Why did you not tell me right away?”

“I wanted it to be special…and private. It seemed like we needed to focus on other things first.” But his obvious delight told her the time she’d spent worrying had been wasted.

“Easy for you to think about waiting when you had time to get used to it.” Grinning broadly, he swung her around again, then set her down and sobered. His brows drew into a fierce frown. “We need to get you out of Toronto. Away from the elders.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m not leaving.” She planted one hand on her hip. “We’re much stronger if we face this together. Let’s not waste time fighting about it.” Her voice softened and carried a glint of humor. “I have to make sure nothing happens to you that would leave me changing all those diapers.”

His eyes widened as if he was momentarily stunned by the idea of diapers, then he leaned forward, cradled her face between his hands, and kissed her tenderly. “Yes, mother of my child, we will do this together.”

* * *

When Ari and Andreas entered the shielded room, Bastian sat with his arms folded over his chest. He dropped his indifferent posture and sat forward. “At last. I had begun to think you were avoiding me, Ms. Calin.”

“I had more important things to do.”

Andreas shot him a cold look. “My wife wants to talk with you alone, so we are going to clear the room. I trust you understand I will not be far away.”

“I do not doubt that for a minute.” Bastian focused on Ari. “I am intrigued by the conditions you have imposed. Please sit.”

Andreas waved Vernon and the other vampire guards out the door. He glared at Bastian one last time, then left, leaving the door open. Ari felt his strong misgivings through their telepathic link.

“An open door? Is this some kind of test?”

Ari had watched the elder in silence for the last minute or two. He appeared calm, composed, and yet he had been almost…relieved when she arrived. Why?

She pulled up a chair and sat across from him. “Of course it’s a test. If you pass, we won’t have to kill you. Frankly, I don’t much care either way.”

He smiled. “Direct, but not totally honest. You have a need for me, or we would not be talking. Does this mean you have accepted my offer of help?”

“What offer would that be?”

“Don’t be obtuse, Arianna. It does not become you.”

Her eyes hardened. “If you don’t quit being a smug bastard for just a few minutes, I’m going to leave.” She pushed back her chair. His power started to rise, and she pointed a finger at him. “If you do that, you die.”

Andreas tensed on the other end of the link. Ari made a conscious effort to relax so she did not precipitate an unnecessary response from either vampire. She would need to walk a fine line between them.

Bastian leaned back. “I understand you are to be congratulated on your recent marriage.”

She ignored his digression. “What did you offer?”

He gave an off-hand gesture with his hand. “To free you from your current situation with Porbius in return for a favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

“We had not gotten that far in the discussion.”

“Then let’s discuss it now. What do you want?”

“Without Andreas here?” He raised a brow. “Are you speaking for yourself or for both of you?”

“Quit stalling. Either tell me or we’re done. I have some crazy elder on the loose, and I don’t have time to waste.”

“Now sarcasm does become you. Very well. No frills. I want what you might call insurance. In the future, I want you to remember that I am not your enemy. That is all I ask. Is it so much?”

“Maybe.” She was puzzled. “That’s not very clear. You said something to Andreas about a prophecy, a vision of some kind. Is there a connection?”

He looked at her for a long moment, as if he was trying to get inside her head. “What do you know of your future?”

“Not as much as you seem to know. Zylla had a vision in which we had to defend ourselves from attack.” Her eyes narrowed. “Nothing particularly new about that since you won’t leave us alone.”

“Zylla.” He said the word slowly, breaking it into two long syllables, as if some question had finally been answered. “We had not heard from her in a long time. So she is here.” Bastian shrugged. “I figured the old crone was hidden away in a cave somewhere.”

Not so far from the truth. Ari should have known he’d recognize the name. After all, Zylla had been around at the time of the 1329 war between the vampires and witches in Europe…on the witches’ side.

“I’m sure she has fond memories of you too.”

Bastian chuckled. Probably the first genuine emotion he’d shown since she’d arrived.

“What’s the connection?” she asked again.

He frowned, obviously reluctant to reveal more. “The world is changing, and the elders’ council has not. Our ways are no longer accepted without question. If we cannot adapt, an unavoidable confrontation may arise.”

Ari blinked to cover her surprise. What was he not saying? Surely he didn’t think the O-Seven would lose?

“Doesn’t the O-Seven settle everything by killing off the dissent?” She tipped her head, considering. “Are you afraid of losing?”

“Of course not.” He lifted his chin in a display of arrogance, but his response had been too quick…too defensive. “The elders have nothing to fear from you.”

“Us?” She leaned forward. “Is that what this is about? You’re not seeking allies against some unknown threat. You’re waving a white flag to make peace with the enemy. You’re afraid.”

Bastian dropped his hand on the table with a loud smack. “I fear no one! Such insolence. I understand why Porbius wants to kill you.”

Andreas appeared in the doorway; Vernon behind him with the assault rifle.

“What happened?”

Ari looked at her husband. “You might as well come in. Vernon, please leave us. Everything’s fine.” She jerked her head toward Bastian. “Our guest has just discovered how irritating and blunt I can be.”

Bastian gave a grunt of humorless laughter. Vernon frowned as if he was uncertain what he should do, but he backed out anyway.

Andreas’s face remained stony. Ari pushed out the chair beside her, inviting him to sit. He did so, but kept his eyes on Bastian.

“Why are you bothering to talk with him?” Andreas asked. “We should concentrate on stopping Porbius.”

“Because I can lift the thrall from your council members,” Bastian said.

“So can we,” Ari said. “It might take longer, but we wouldn’t wind up indebted to the devil. Either tell us something we can use against him or quit wasting our time.”

“I think we are done.” Andreas pushed back his chair and stood.

Ari shrugged and started to join him.

“Porbius has a weakness.”

Ari paused and looked at the elder. He continued to show them a poker face as if he’d commented on the weather, but his eyes had grown calculating.

“I’m listening,” she said.

“Do we have a deal?”

Ari looked at Andreas and sat down. “Let’s say this big apocalyptic event occurs where you want us to remember you’re not the enemy.”

“Is that what he wants?” Andreas interrupted.

She nodded and continued. “If we granted this favor, would you remain a threat to us afterward?”

“Not unless you chose to pursue me.” He had one hand lying on the table; his index finger began a slow tap. Bastian’s focus seemed caught by the motion rather than looking at her.

Why wasn’t he looking at her? Was he lying? Or was the deal so important he didn’t want to jinx it by seeming eager? She just didn’t know.

She raised her brows at Andreas. “What do you think? Do you trust him?”

“No.”

“Me neither.”

“The best we could offer is what Daron offered. To consider your request.” Andreas’s voice was firm, no room for compromise. Take it or leave it.

“I’d remember that we owed you,” Ari said. “But I can’t guarantee that would change anything.”

Bastian lifted his gaze to meet hers. “You do not offer much, but I want Porbius stopped. I will not be a party to his capture, but I will reveal a flaw that may allow you to defeat him. Consider carefully what you do with it. If you kill him, you will start a war.”

His willingness to betray a fellow elder—even though it helped them—grated on Ari’s nerves. “I’d hate to be your friend,” she muttered.

“I have never claimed Porbius as a friend.” Clearly annoyed with her, Bastian shifted his attention to Andreas. “He has a narrow spectrum of mental energy, three wave lengths. Block those, and you will rob him temporarily of his psychic ability and release the council from his control. You should then be able to capture him, and we will attempt to negotiate a peaceful way out of this. Remember you will need to remove the deeper bespelling of the council, or he may regain control.” He paused and raised a brow. “I can do it for you, if you like. It is quite easy for me.”

Ari rose quickly, her voice eager. “Come on, Andreas. We don’t need him anymore. I know how to do this, and our own sorcerers can help.”

Andreas stood to follow her, and Bastian lost his nonchalance. “Wait! Surely you are not going to leave me in here.”

Ari stopped at the door. “You’ll get the promise we agreed too, but I don’t like it…or you.”

“But I can still help.”

By the time he’d finished his protest, they were gone. The door locked securely behind them.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Daron and the other leaders met Ari and Andreas as they emerged from the shielded room. Andreas stopped to explain what they’d learned, but Ari demanded to know where they were staying.

“I need to consult the Book of Shadows before we do anything else,” she said over her shoulder.

“Which one?”

“Both, I guess.”

When he joined her minutes later, she was rifling through his Valvano family Book of Shadows, muttering.

“Dispersal, dispersal. No, not that one.” She ran her finger down the page, then flipped to the next. “Removing all traces of a spell. No, not that one either.” She looked up. “What’s another word for dispersal?”

“Distribution, scattering.”

“Hmm.” She started flipping pages and reading. “Nothing there either,” she said after a while. “Maybe interrupt or intercept or interfere.”

“I might be more helpful if you explained what you are doing.”

“Looking for a spell to take advantage of what Bastian told us. We normally can’t use a spell against a vampiric bespelling, because you—vampires—have the ability to keep switching magical frequencies. Anything short of a total barrier is ineffective, not to mention impossible to maintain. But three frequencies are manageable.”

“He will notice the change in their behavior the moment you interfere. We cannot get close enough to protect them in time.”

“We’ll have to lure him out of direct sight of them.”

“He would still feel the recoil when his energy hit your counterspell.”

“Yep, like a ball hitting the floor and bouncing back. But what if there was no recoil? If the energy merely dissipated, if the ball dissolved before it hit the floor…there would be no bounce back, no resistance to feel. He wouldn’t notice right away, not if we’re keeping him distracted.”

“But Arianna,” he interrupted. “I have already heard too many ifs in this theory.”

“I know, but I’m working on the spell, and we should be able to come up with something to distract him. Once his immediate control is broken, we’ll get the council members away from him, and our conjurers will reverse the long-term enchantment.” She smiled at him, then cocked her head and sat up straighter. “Reverse… That gives me another idea.” She started turning pages again. “Read this. There’s a different type of reversal spell.”

“To turn the spell back on the spellcaster. So? You cannot expect to enthrall Porbius with his own power.”

“Why not? Why couldn’t it work?”

Andreas hesitated, then dropped on the bed beside her. “In theory I suppose it could, but I don’t see how you hope to put all of this together. You are talking about several things happening at once and several spells.”

“I won’t do it alone. We have lots of people to arrange everything, and you’re going to be helping me directly.” She grinned at him. “In fact, you’ll have the hardest part. Keeping Porbius too distracted to realize we’re stealing his mind slaves, and then initiating the take down.”

“Me? I do not have sufficient vampiric power to oppose an elder. You should ask Daron to help you.”

“Not vampire power, witch power.”

His eyes went wide. “But, Arianna, I am just learning.”

“Aren’t we all? Every time I try a new spell, it’s a new experience. You have the power, now you have the heirlooms.” She looked up from the book. “Remember how you once told me to believe in myself, in my magic? Well…”

His lips curved in a slow smile. “What do you want me to do?”

* * *

Ari stood in the shadows beside the Magic Hall. Andreas was across the cul-de-sac. Daron had agreed to play a part in their drama, and she watched as he approached the front entrance. He knocked on the door, then rattled the handle and called Porbius’s name. He called again. Minutes passed, but Daron persisted, growing louder, more insistent all the time.

Lights came on in the first floor.

Ari raced to the back of the building where one of the shifters had already used a lock pick on the back entrance. She placed her ear against the door. When she was positive she heard Porbius’s steps descending the staircase to the first floor, she slipped inside. The raised voices of the vampires in the front were still distinct.

“What do you want, Daron? Where is Andreas…and his witch? I am tired of waiting.” Porbius sounded petulant, condescending.

“I am here to reason with you.” But Daron made no attempt to do so. He pounded on the door. “Let me in. We need to talk. Before you do something extremely stupid.” His primary job was to keep Porbius distracted while Ari and Andreas worked their spells. So far he had the elder’s attention.

“How dare you speak to me that way! This is no concern of yours. Is Andreas with you?”

“He is coming. Porbius, your behavior is beyond—”

“I want him here now!” Porbius’s voice shook the building. “If not, I am going to start killing these sheep.”

Ari bit her lip. The elder was losing it faster than anticipated. They’d have to work swiftly, and the next part was hers.

She sprinted up the back stairs, chanting the words of the dissipate spell as she ran.

Seek the spell that clouds their minds; slice the whole with many lines;

Send the pieces through the air; here and there and everywhere;

Gracious Goddess here my plea; so mote it be.

It wasn’t her best rhyme, but she’d been in a hurry, and luckily the Goddess didn’t care.

By the time she burst into the second floor chambers, the members were beginning to shake their heads as if just waking. She grabbed Zoe whose natural resistance was bringing her out of it faster than the others. “Get them out of here. Quickly. There are trucks waiting in back with people to help you. Hurry. You’ve all been enthralled by Porbius, and we need to get everyone away from here before we’re discovered.”

Zoe nodded, still a little vague, but she’d caught the basics and began moving the council representatives. Hampered by the narrow back stairs and the grogginess of the members, the going was slow. Ari had to shush more than one person to keep them from asking questions too loudly. After a couple of minutes, a few of Daron’s vampires appeared and picked up those who were lagging and carried them out.

Ari’s heart hammered as she hurried people along and kept one ear on the argument below. Mindless fury began to permeate the air as Porbius and Daron hurled insults at one another. Either Daron was an exceptional actor or he really despised the infuriated elder.

A loud bellow of outrage caused her to spin toward the front stairs.

“What’s going on up there?”

Porbius was on to them. Blood pounded in her ears. She stole a quick look at the last of the representatives disappearing out the back, then turned to the broad staircase where Porbius continued to yell invectives.

The elder’s face looked directly at her as he flew up the steps. “You!” He shook his fist, and a wave of vibrating power shot forward. Ari threw up a protective barrier; it barely slowed the bolt of energy that slammed into her and knocked her across the room. She curled into a ball but hit hard, rolled over, and scrambled for cover behind a row of chairs.

The front doors splintered with a ground-shaking crash, and Prince Daron charged toward the staircase. A glowing ball of energy surrounded him and radiated outward; he looked ten feet tall. Porbius whirled to meet this new challenge, expanding his own powers to block the stairs. Ari froze in place, stunned by the spectacle before her. Two ancient vampires were ready to unleash their powers and incinerate one another—and the entire building—if someone didn’t do something to stop them.

She struggled to her feet and climbed over the tumbled chairs, determined to throw herself between the combatants. They might not pay any attention to her, but she had to try. If either of these two vampires died tonight it would set off a vampire versus vampire war that would shake the world. She stepped forward.

A fierce gale arose. Suddenly Andreas stood in the opening where the front door had been. A dark avenging angel, eyes blazing, hair blowing in the wind that swirled around him, he raised his virge high as if it were a sword and unleashed the reversal spell.

Ari felt the rush of power and sucked in her breath. For an instant nothing happened, then Porbius grabbed his head with both hands and staggered on the stairs. Daron pulled back, and Andreas continued to pour his magic into the spell. But Porbius wasn’t beaten. He began to straighten, pushing back, shoving the energy outward, away from his body.

Ari ran forward, dodged around the elder, and vaulted over the stair railing. Landing on both feet she raced to Andreas’s side and grabbed his free hand. She released her own magic into him to boost the power flowing through the virge.

Porbius staggered again. He fell to one knee, slid sideways down the stairs, then pitched forward onto his face at the bottom.

Empty silence. Power levels dropped to nearly nothing.

Oh, dear Goddess. Had they killed him? Started the war they’d tried to stop?

Daron knelt next to the fallen elder and touched Porbius’s temple. “He is alive, but barely. The reversal breached his mental shields. I suggest we take him to Bastian. If anyone can call his mind back, it would be the master of mind control.”

* * *

Ari threw open the door of Bastian’s iron-clad prison, and he bounded to his feet. His eyes swept past her to Porbius’s unconscious body supported between Daron and Andreas. “What happened to him?” He moved toward the door, and Ari moved aside to allow him to follow them into the audience chambers as Porbius was laid on one of the couches used for waiting visitors.

“His telepathic control was reversed and used against him,” she said.

Bastian flashed her an incredulous look. “Explain.”

“Witchcraft.” She described the scene at the Magic Hall and gave him the details of the reversal spell. She didn’t mention who had cast it.

“I did not know that was possible.” Bastian bent over the other elder and placed one hand on Porbius’s forehead. “His mind has retreated to protect itself.”

“Can you bring him back?” Daron asked.

“I do not know. Perhaps.” He cocked his head. “Do you want me to try?”

Ari’s temper flared. She stepped up beside him, demanding his attention. “Don’t you dare talk about more favors and owing you. I’d rather he stayed this way forever, but the others think the O-Seven might object.” She cocked her head and slitted her eyes. “I wouldn’t care about that either, except I want them to leave us alone. So do your thing.”

His black eyes glinted. “Nothing is free, Arianna. But all I ask is you allow Porbius and I to leave without further conflict between us.”

“Done,” Daron interrupted. “You have my word.”

“And mine,” Andreas added.

Bastian looked at Ari.

“Yeah, sure. I agree too. I just wish you meant it.”

He raised a brow, and she clarified. “No further conflict…ever.”

“The future will have to take care of itself,” he murmured. “Now step back and give me room to work.”

Bastian knelt on one knee beside the couch. He ran his hand back and forth over Porbius’s forehead, then rested his fingertips on the unconscious elder’s temples. Bastian closed his eyes and his body stilled.

Seconds passed, then minutes. No dramatic flash of energy. In fact, nothing visible occurred, but the energy in the room raised the hairs on Ari’s arms. She let out a breath, and Andreas rested his hand on her shoulder. Daron stood stoically beside them. They watched and waited.

At Gabriel’s urging, the other vampires and the shapeshifter leaders remained huddled around the conference table, staying well away from the drama taking place. Mike, Lilith, and Russell were close by with their guns in case something went wrong.

Ari shifted uneasily. It had been too long. If this didn’t work, how could they possibly explain his death to the elders’ council?

Bastian lifted his hands from Porbius’s face and stood. “His mind had retreated a long way, but he is nearly back. Before I wake him, I need to explain what I have done, but only to the three of you. I am asking you to clear the room.”

Mike growled a protest, and Bastian waved a resigned hand. “I do not care about your guards, as long as they remain out of hearing.”

Andreas shrugged. “We have come this far, I don’t see why we would refuse now.”

Daron nodded, and Gabriel once again proved his worth by gathering everyone and escorting them to the lounge. If anyone protested, Ari didn’t hear it.

Even after the door was closed, Bastian seemed uncomfortable. “Very well. I have made a few modifications to Porbius’s memory.” He hesitated. “I eliminated the last twenty-four hours. He will believe this is our first meeting and Arianna has just arrived.” He raised a hand to stop anyone from interrupting. “That is not all.” He turned to Andreas and Ari. “I have also planted the suggestion that Ursula’s wereraptor guards killed her in her sleep and have gone into hiding.”

“Why would you do that?” Ari blurted.

“Because it suits me.”

Ari narrowed her eyes. She’d seen the calculation that went into everything Bastian did. What price did he expect for this piece of trickery?

“You have gone to a great deal of trouble to avoid open hostilities.” Daron regarded his sire with hooded eyes. “Since you always have a self-serving plan in some stage of development, I can only assume the timing is not convenient for you to divulge it.”

“True. Now…if you are ready, I will awaken him.” He leaned over the prostrate figure.

“Wait!” Ari grabbed his arm. “You have to tell us more about what you’ve done. Will he recover his memories? Eventually know he was tricked? And what about the other elders…won’t they realize what you’ve done?”

Bastian straightened and shook off her restraining hand. “Those memories are gone. He may notice gaps, inconsistencies, but he will not suspect the truth. Nor will the rest of the council. I would not take that risk.” He bent to his task but paused. “Be forewarned. Porbius does not like any of you. In time, he will find another reason to continue the fight.” This time Bastian reached down, tapped Porbius lightly on the forehead, and the elder’s eyes fluttered. Then flew open.

He sat up and scowled. “Why am I laying on this couch?” His voice was querulous, suspicious.

“You are in need of blood, my friend.” Bastian motioned toward the refreshments near the conference table. “If someone would bring him a goblet. Do you remember complaining of a sudden weakness?”

Ari fetched the wine/blood mixture and offered it to Porbius.

He blinked at her. “When did you get here?” He grasped the goblet and took a drink. He still appeared confused. “I do not feel weak. Was I unconscious?”

“Not for long.” Bastian’s manner was brusque, verging on impatient. “Now, if you are better, perhaps we can finish our meeting.”

Porbius stood, holding one hand to his head. “Where are the others? There were several present as I recall.”

“Yes,” Bastian agreed. “We sent them away, so the five of us could talk privately.”

“Oh, yes.” He drew himself up. “Then let us finish this business.”

“I thought we were finished.” Andreas stepped forward and bowed toward Porbius and Bastian. “You had accepted our assurances that we support the O-Seven’s continuing control of Europe and…” he held out a hand to Ari, “had agreed to withdraw the bounty currently on our heads.” Andreas’s gaze held Bastian’s, defying him to contradict his words.

By the Goddess! Ari squeezed her husband’s hand and stifled a gasp. How audacious. How very clever of him.

“Is this true? Why do I not remember?” Porbius turned to frown at Bastian, but before the other elder could respond, Porbius switched his attention to Andreas. “I thought you… Do you deny killing Ursula?”

“I most certainly do.”

Ari tensed, tightening her grip on Andreas’s hand. Would he ask her next? With the picture in her head of Ursula dying in flames of her witch fire, could Ari lie convincingly?

“We have been over all this, Porbius, and we reached an agreement.” By implication Bastian was supporting Andreas’s outrageous statements. “It is time for us to go. The council will be awaiting our report.”

“Yes, we should do that.”

Formal good-byes were taken. Daron, Andreas and Ari watched as Bastian urged Porbius toward the door.

Porbius turned to Bastian, a puzzled expression on his face. “I have been wondering. Do you think Ursula’s guards could have rebelled?”

Ari nearly choked to stop her laughter.

* * *

Two hours later, the vampire compound and the Toronto Magic Council were mostly back to normal. The vampire and shapeshifter leaders had gone home, and the Magic Council was already talking about an emergency meeting to review security measures and prevent a future reoccurrence.

Ari made a mental note to encourage the Riverdale council to take similar precautions.

Mike had returned to his security duties, and the werelions had gone to bed. Andreas, Gabriel, and Daron were having a last drink before dawn. Ari had joined them, but refused a drink saying it would interfere with sleep. Andreas had flashed her a conspiratorial smile, but neither of them was ready to share the truth.

They’d just brought Gabriel up-to-date on what occurred in those last minutes when Bastian was bringing Porbius back from never-never land.

“Will Porbius ever regain his memories?” Gabriel asked.

Daron gestured his uncertainty. “Bastian claims he has wiped them away. At worst, Porbius may realize he has a time gap.” He took a last drink from his goblet. “I have to agree with Bastian that the truth is unlikely to occur to Porbius.”

“Even if he were suspicious, he would never admit he could be manipulated like that.” Andreas stood. “It is getting near dawn. I am off to bed.”

Ari rose and laced her fingers with his. He set down his empty goblet. “We have escaped disaster again.” He curled a stray strand of Ari’s hair behind her ear. “More than ever, I wish I could say this was the end of it.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Gabriel said, downing the last of his wine.

“Yeah, I wish that too.” She looked at Andreas, knowing they were both thinking of the child she carried. “It’s time to plan our own future, and the O-Seven be damned.”

EPILOGUE

The next evening their private jet landed in Riverdale shortly before eight o’clock. The weather was bitterly cold, and the crusted snow had left deep ruts on the roads. Ari had plenty of time on the lengthy drive to call Ryan and Claris to let them know they were safely home. She arranged to meet Claris for morning coffee. She wanted her baby’s godmother to be the first to know.

Once they’d dropped their luggage at home, Ari and Andreas set out on foot for the caverns. It was time to make the attempt to restore Ari’s witch fire. Since Goshen Park was close to impassable this time of year, and Ari had no interest in freezing to death during the spell attempt, they’d chosen the Chamber of Ages for their witches’ circle. On the way they’d stopped at Zylla’s cave to update her on events and were surprised when she’d decided to accompany them and observe the ritual.

Now they were ready to begin.

Ari rubbed her clammy hands together, then rubbed them on her jeans. What if the spell went wrong? What if she never regained her witch fire? She glanced at Andreas. His jaw was tense; he acted almost as nervous as she was. Was it too soon for him to attempt this? A counterspell to the Maleficus was much less spectacular but harder than what he’d done in Toronto. And he’d had a long time for his imagination to invent things that might go wrong.

He kept glancing at the paper with the Latin words of the counterspell the lab techs had written. Ari had added a phrase from Andreas’s Book of Shadows to make the spell his own.

The only person present who wasn’t nervous was Zylla. Ari glanced at her now, and the vampiress gave a sympathetic nod. “You can do this,” she said.

Andreas jerked his head up, clearly startled by Zylla’s voice.

The vampiress included both of them in a smile. “Do not dwell too much on the doing.” She swept her hands in a wide arc. “Proceed.”

Andreas and Ari shared a smile, then he drew the circle around the two of them. They knelt in the center, and Ari lit the four candles, calling on the elements and the Goddess to guide them. They joined hands, his left to her right. His firm clasp helped Ari to steady her nerves.

He held the virge in his right hand and extended it over the center of the lighted candles. After a moment, he shook his head and laid the virge down. He bowed his head, and his dark curls gleamed in the candlelight. Finally, he looked up and extended his open hand. The Valvano crest winked in the candlelight.

Ari glanced at him in surprise. He would be channeling the magic for both of them. Was he ready to do it with the ring alone? As she watched, the emerald took on an inner glow that grew until it surrounded them both. Awesome. Ari’s breath quickened in admiration. He was more than ready.

When he gestured for her to begin, Ari picked up the vial of demon blood obtained from Zylla’s supplies and sprinkled three drops in the center of the circle. Andreas began a slow chant of the Latin spell that he would repeat three times. The first two lines were quotes from the Maleficus, so dark that she dared not even think them outside the context of the ritual.

Ari knew the translation of the counterspell by heart.

What was taken, set it free; what was bound, no more will be.

Lift the chains, bindings break; restore to her, the whole to make.

Lovely Goddess, grant this boon, filled by magic from the moon.

Forever free; so mote it be.

Ari closed her eyes and concentrated on sending her magic to him. He started on the first repetition, and she felt something change around them, heard a soft sizzle. She opened her eyes. A dark haze spiraled up from the drops of demon blood and swirled around them. Her stomach fluttered; Andreas’s words faltered, then stopped.

As if from a great distance, she heard Zylla say, “You must continue. All is well.”

Ari gripped Andreas’s hand; his voice resumed, steadier now. The air around them began to pulse as he completed the second stanza. A sudden gust of black smoke burned her nostrils, then the air cleared. He began the third repetition with growing confidence in his voice.

Ari’s magic stirred, began to hum, and she smiled, flexing her free hand. Her fingertips tingled.

Andreas finished the last words and darted a glance at her. She showed him her sparking fingertips. The ritual was quickly concluded, and Andreas broke the circle.

Ari wound her arms around his neck and tried to say thank you, tell him how much this meant to her, but emotion choked her voice. She just clung to him.

He stood, dragging her up with him, and grinned over her head at Zylla. “I guess it worked.”

Zylla cackled. “So it would seem.”

* * *

Ari snuggled happily in Andreas’s arms later that night. An artificial fire crackled in the study fireplace. The heat it produced was real, and Ari was sleepily content. She was tempted to doze off, but she still needed to tell Andreas exactly what had happened in Italy.

She laid a hand on her stomach. He must have all kinds of questions. Why hadn’t he asked? Was he as comfortable with this situation as he seemed? Was he hiding his feelings, the trust between them damaged forever? Did he have doubts about her?

She sat up on the couch and touched his cheek. “About Italy…”

He opened his eyes and captured her hand in his. “There is no hurry. Eventually I want to hear everything, especially about Fredrico. I have forgotten much about him.”

“I liked him, and I want to tell you about all the other people I met and places I saw.” She searched his face, trying to read his thoughts. “But I have to explain about the baby.”

“Explain?” He sounded puzzled. “What is there to explain? I know where babies come from. Are you feeling guilty about something?”

She swallowed. “I don’t know. Should I?”

He chuckled then, pulling her head against his chest. “I admit I struggled a little with the concept while you were gone. Then I realized I was jealous of myself. Which was absurd. So I sat down and did my best to recall everything that happened back then, everything about Abigail.”

His breath was soft against her hair as he continued to talk. “I remember long walks in the garden, a drive through the countryside. Did we go on a picnic?”

She moved her chin up and down against his chest.

“I thought so.” He tightened his arms around her. “But mostly I remember getting caught in the rain.” His hand fell to caress her belly. “That is the moment our child was conceived, is it not?”

“Yes.” Ari caught her breath at the mixture of pleasure and hunger in his voice.

“I do not remember every touch, every caress of that afternoon, but fortunately we can make new memories. It must have gone something like this…” He tilted her head up and kissed her, exploring her lips, her mouth.

She arched her neck to nibble on his ear, and his hands continued to explore.

“Which side of me do you prefer?” he whispered, running his lips along her throat. “The man or the vampire?”

“I am so not going there.” She laughed and kissed the corner of his mouth. Her fingers tugged at his shirt. “There is no choice, no sides. Just one delectable package…and I’m keeping it all.”

~ About the Author ~

Ally Shields was born and raised in the Midwest, along the Mississippi River, and considers herself a “river rat.” The setting and folklore of that area are often incorporated into her urban fantasy series. After  a career in law and juvenile justice, she turned to full-time writing in 2009.

Discover more about Ally Shields here

Website: http://allyshields.com

Blog: http://allyshields.com/blog.html

Twitter: http://twitter.com/ShieldsAlly

Facebook: http://facebook.com/AllyShieldsAuthor

Goodreads:  http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6527209.Ally_Shields
http://plus.google.com/u/0/100652807699295011703/posts

~ Also by Ally Shields ~

Cross Keys

An Elvenrude Novel

Ally Shields

Conspiracy, murder, and magic…and the death of all they hold dear.

When the first wanderer—a common elf who isn’t authorized to use the portal—is spotted on the streets of New Orleans, the king assigns Kameo Ryndel to assist in the elf’s capture. But before she can intervene, humans with guns shoot the wanderer and steal his body. When Seth Lormarc, an Elite elf from a rival guild, appears at the scene, Kam suspects he is involved.

Seth Lormarc is in New Orleans to find out who was behind the portal breach, and his best lead is the intriguing Kam Ryndel. When he stakes out her apartment and finds her sneaking out in the middle of the night, dressed in black and leaping to the top of the nearest building, he knows there’s something unique about the beautiful elf. That kind of feat requires magic. Ancient magic.

As their paths cross during their investigations, they develop an irresistible attraction, although there’s little time for romance. The portal breach is tied to an illegal smuggling operation that has come to the attention of the human CIA. But the stakes are raised when Kam and Seth discover a band of conspirators and a rebellion deep in Elvenrude that promises nothing except destruction of their world.

The Guardian Witch series

Awakening the Fire

Guardian Witch Book One

Ally Shields

Arianna Calin has sworn to keep the peace in Riverdale. Most of the Otherworlders prefer to haunt the Olde Town district--partying at vampire strip clubs, dining in elegant supper clubs, and inhabiting the cliffside caverns along the Mississippi. Being a cop is a tough job, but someone's gotta do it, and Ari's got her derringer, a sharp stiletto, and a few handy charms against things that hunt in the night. She's also a fire witch--a pedigree that comes in handy, since her partner's only human.

When a virtual reality drug hits the streets, people start to die, and an elusive pack of werewolves threatens the status quo. Ari and Ryan are drawn into a web of murder and evil that will lead sworn enemies to a confrontation. While the city simmers around them, Ari struggles to prevent an all-out supernatural war...

Fire Within

Guardian Witch Book Two

Ally Shields

A hidden evil stalks the city…

Ari Calin refuses to believe her human friend Eddie murdered a vampire—in spite of his confession. Her human partner Ryan thinks the case is a slam dunk, even though there’s no weapon and no witnesses, but Ari’s not about to let her friend take the rap without finding out more.

When Ari attends a charity event on the arm of a handsome werewolf, she finds someone she never expected to see again—Andreas De Luca, the charismatic vampire she used to date. When their eyes meet across the room, memories come rushing back. His kiss, his touch, a savage death…and a terrifying magical bond. A reconnection is the last thing she wants. Only by staying away and forgetting Andreas can she hope to avoid the Legend of Ramora.

But when vampires keep dying, one thing becomes clear: Riverdale has a serial killer on its hands, and Andreas could be next. Ari begins to fear there’s more to it, though. Something truly evil is stalking the city, waiting to take control…

Burning Both Ends

Guardian Witch Book Three

Ally Shields

Friend or lover. Life or death…

Supernatural cop Ari Calin arrives at the hostile Toronto vampire court with an ultimatum from the Riverdale vampires: Sebastian, Toronto’s vampire prince, must stop his unprovoked attacks—or else. Ari wasn’t expecting a fight—the “or else” was typical vampire grandstanding. But even with vampire Andreas De Luca by her side for a show of strength, things get ugly fast. Toronto’s vampire world is in crisis, and surrounded by enemies, Ari and Andreas find themselves under attack.

That’s when Ari gets the call from the Magic Council ordering her home. Steffan, a good friend and leader of Riverdale's werewolves, has gone missing during top secret negotiations with the US government, and is believed to have been kidnapped—or killed.

Andreas can't abandon the Toronto vampires, and Ari can’t leave him to face impossible odds alone. But neither can she disobey her orders from the Council, or leave her friend Steffan to be tortured and killed. Ari's loyalties pull her in two directions—the closest thing to love she’s ever known on one side, and friendship and duty on the other. If she can stay alive long enough for the choice to matter…

Blood and Fire

Guardian Witch Book Four

Ally Shields

A dead body, black magic, and a vampire enforcer...

Ari thought her biggest problem was deciding if she should move in with her vampire boyfriend, Andreas. That was before they found the dead body at the bottom of the Riverdale cliffs. And before she realized he'd been cursed by black magic.

Just as she begins the murder investigation, the vampire rulers in Europe send an enforcer to make inquiries into the recent defeat of the Toronto vampire prince. While Andreas has taken responsibility for the brutal dictator’s death, there is much about the incident that he and Ari must keep to themselves—secrets the vampire elders would stop at nothing to learn.

With threats of retaliation hanging over their heads, Ari moves into Andreas’s Victorian mansion—for safety’s sake—while the enforcer begins a campaign of terror. Ari is caught between competing dangers and challenges: black magic, a ghost, a missing Native American artifact…not to mention a new roommate…all while trying to stay alive…

Fire Storm

Guardian Witch Book Five

Ally Shields

Sometimes you just need to stay alive to fight another day.

Six months ago Ari moved in with the vampire prince Andreas. They defied the vampire elders in Europe, killed their enforcer, and have waited for retaliation that never came.

Until now.

On a trip to Italy, Andreas is captured by the vampire rulers, the notorious O-Seven, and taken in chains to their stronghold in Germany. Ari goes after him, even though it’s against the orders of her Magic Council. She is fired for her actions, losing her special Guardian powers at a time she needs them most.

But the vampire rulers are not through with her or with those who attempt to help her. They launch attacks in Europe and at home in Riverdale. Ari is forced to fight them on several fronts, and victory grows increasingly uncertain.

Her last chance to rescue Andreas is a daring plan that places her in the hands of the O-Seven and relies on untested witch magic, the final hope for their survival.

More Fantasy from Etopia Press

Black Widow Witch

A.J. Locke

A deadly curse, a dangerous assassin, and one shot to save everyone she loves…

Malachi Erami can’t fall in love. After she’s caught with Knave, the witch Queen’s favorite lover, she’s cursed to savagely butcher any man she falls for. Exiled to live among humans, Malachi runs a bar that serves magic-laced drinks, but since her curse labels her high risk, she’s also closely monitored. Julian Vira is her latest babysitter, but he’s also the first man since Knave that she’s been attracted to. Good-looking and nonjudgmental of her horrible curse? Yeah, he’s hard to resist.

But when Malachi finds a body behind her bar, she knows she’s in trouble. If the Witches Control Council gets wind of it, she’ll be accused of murder and sent to her death. And when her friends start getting framed for murder, she realizes she’s not the only target. Malachi and Julian dig into the evidence to clear her name, but the closer they get to answers, the closer the curse comes to taking over. So when Malachi uncovers a plot to kill the witch Queen, she finds herself suddenly recruited into service, with the promise of having her curse lifted and a reunion with Knave as well. But if she fails, Knave will die. And she and Julian might not live long enough to see that happen.

Living Dead Girl

Nessie Strange

Jen MacLellan has hit a dead end…

Jen knows tattooed, blue-haired Jack Norris is trouble the minute he opens his front door. And being a mortician in the avante garde East Side of Providence, Jen has seen a lot. Jack has recruited Jen’s teenage brother Drew to play drums for his less-than-respectable punk band, and Jen has no choice but to follow their gigs to keep her little brother out of trouble. But when Drew goes missing, she finds herself in the awkward position of asking for Jack’s help. Shocked that he agrees, Jen decides she may have misjudged him. Worse, she might even like him.

But when Jen is brutally attacked, she awakens in the hospital where a Sid Vicious look-alike greets her with the news: she’s dead, and he’s the reaper assigned to take her away. Yeah, not so much. Refusing to leave, Jen’s spirit watches helplessly as her loved ones suffer, powerless to ease her family’s grief or prevent the police from accusing Jack of her murder. Desperate to help them, Jen convinces the reaper to bring her back. But reanimating corpses isn’t as easy as it looks, and neither is finding a killer before it’s too late…

Dark Ride Dogs

Search and Destroy Book One

Keith Melton

Death prophecies, ghost clowns, homicidal redcaps…this town has really gone to the dogs.

Zero Dog mercenary Andrea Walker used to love fortune cookies—until the day she received a death prophecy inside one. Of course, believing a mass produced fortune from a baked good would be insane—until a berserker shows up on her doorstep claiming he’s been sent by an infamous oracle to save her life. She must hire him or die.

Hell really breaks loose when the Zero Dogs are contracted to stop a ghost-summoning goblin’s plan to bring his Eternal Malevolence Carnival and Incredible Show of Evil to Portland, starring a company of ghost performers—clowns, acrobats, and nefarious balloon-twisting mimes. Meanwhile, Andrea’s normally shy succubus friend seems to be falling for the mysterious berserker. Too bad a malfunctioning charm spell has the redcap goblin yearning for her as well.

Now Andrea must elude a death prophecy, discover if her new-hire berserker can be trusted, and avert the looming ghost clown apocalypse. Just another mad mission for the Zero Dogs.

The Necro-Files

$7.50/Hr + Curses

C. L. Bledsoe

Ever wonder what happens after the hero kills the monster?

Daisy Janney just wanted to go to college next year like everybody else—get out of her mom’s house, go to some parties, maybe meet some cute guys. But when she finds out she has to pay for it herself, she has no choice but to get a job. Too bad no one wants her, not even the burger joint. Way to feel like a total loser.

Desperate, she takes the only job she can find—at Calvert Funeral Home. Putting makeup on dead people might not be glamorous, but at least dead people don’t complain. Too bad no one told her they wouldn’t always stay dead. Or that they weren’t always people.

One salt-covered, burnt witch later, Daisy finds herself the recipient of an evil curse. She’s got two weeks to figure out how to break it before she’s scheduled for dismemberment by an angry demon. And she hasn’t even gotten her first paycheck yet. She turns to an old boyfriend for help, but with finals coming up, and some weird guy stalking her who looks like Johnny Cash, she’s not sure there’s enough help on the planet for her kind of trouble…