A Wicked Night (Creatures of Darkness 2): A Coraline Conwell Novel (34 page)

Without hesitation, Bray scooped him up and seated him over his shoulders, allowing his little legs to dangle on either side of his thick neck. The boy squealed with glee at being so high up and then glanced down at his sister to gloat.

“Oh, pick me up too,” she wined, jealous.

“We’ll switch on the way back,” Bray said with a wink, only slightly appeasing her. She crossed her arms and began a silent pout.

Cora offered her hand. “Walk with me, sweets.”

Phoebe accepted, her bottom lip still prominent.

As they pounded out a path, Bray bounced Preston and made a game of ducking under low branches just enough so that he could still reach and pluck some of the leaves with his stubby fingers.

That didn’t help Phoebe’s mood, but puffs of warm affection collided in Cora’s heart.

With a glance, Bray sent her a wide sexy grin as though he were actually enjoying himself. She was helpless not to return it.

When they reached the familiar boundary line that surrounded the cottage, Cora actually
felt
the demarcation before she saw it. There was a fuzziness that tickled her nose and pressed against her chest, warding her away. It was a wonder she hadn’t perceived it before. But even if the mystical presence wasn’t tingling her flesh, the perfect circle of stunted growth that spanned the other side was a clear indicator. The backside of the cottage could be seen in the distance.

She paused. “I can’t go any further. And neither should they.” She gestured to the children. “Sadira’s spirit could inhabit any one of us.” According to Saraphine, as vampires, Bray, Trent, and Osborne were safe.

Ignoring Preston’s objections, Bray lifted him from his shoulders and set him on the ground next to Cora. To Osborne, he said, “Stay with them. Trent and I will head inside.”

“Uh…” Trent peered between Bray and Osborne uneasily. Then his gaze landed on Cora before returning to Bray. She managed to read his biased imputation.

“Oz should come with me,” he said. “You should stay with Cora.”

“Oh for the love off…” She crossed her arms and shifted her weight. “I highly doubt in the five minutes it takes you to find Mace I will somehow manage to blood bond with your pilot.”

“Your track record speaks very highly,” Trent shot back sarcastically.

She balked. “Whatever my track record says, it should be that I never intended any of this to happen. I didn’t ask to bond Mace. I didn’t trick Knox. And I sure as hell wouldn’t have endured weeks of endless torture just to tie yet another random vampire to me!”

She realized too late whom her words might sting.

“Am I just a random vampire?” Bray asked. He kept his expression blank, but his emotions churned.

She faced him, repentant. “I didn’t mean it like it sounded.”

“How did you mean it?”

“I meant…I don’t know…that none of this was my choice. It just happened to me.”

“And you’re saying you wouldn’t have chosen me,” he added solemnly. “Even now?”

Again she was very close to hurting him more than she could bear, but she couldn’t lie to him. “Can we talk about this later?”

From the corner of her eye, she registered Trent studying them far too closely. What was he searching for? She tried not to focus on how her interaction with Bray might be interpreted.

As if shrugging off the subject, Bray squared his shoulders and faced Trent. “Oz will be fine with Cora. Let’s go.”

Reluctant but relenting, Trent gave Oz a harsh warning. “Keep your hemoglobin to yourself.” He sent Cora a chilly look. “No matter what may transpire.”

Translation:
If the Grim Reaper comes for Cora and your blood is the only thing that might save her, hand her over and call it a day.

Cora lifted her chin.

Bray pursed his lips at Trent, then said to Cora, “I won’t be long.”

She nodded and took charge of the children so their natural curiosity wouldn’t guide them too close to the boundary line.

With Bray gone, anxiety made a powerful reappearance. Avoiding Osborne’s curious stares and his stiff sentinel stance that resembled a warden rather than a bodyguard, Cora tasked the children with searching a small clover patch for one with four leaves. “If you find one, you can make a wish.”

That was enough to have them squatting with enthusiasm and bickering about who would find one first.

Then Cora began to pace. Had Bray and Trent entered the cottage yet? What would they find? Visions of Mace crippled and in pain tormented her. She brought her hand up and began biting her fingernails.

Still Osborne stared.

“Something on your mind, big fella?” she said.

“Just putting a face to your file.”

She froze midstep. “I have a file?”

Like the one in the doctor’s hellacious lab?

Osborne held his unwavering gaze, carefully reading her reaction. Could he tell her veins had gone ice-cap cold?

Cora took a step back from Osborne, readying for what? She didn’t know. Run? Fight? Scream for Bray?

Oz made no move to advance.

His hands were firmly in his pockets. But that mattered not. If he wanted, he could be upon her before she managed so much as to blink. Like every human who found themselves alone with a vampire, her fate was his to decide. If something nefarious was about to befall her, there would be little she could do about it. Not unless she could call on her magic, which was iffy at best.

In any case, she decided to stand her ground. “What do you mean I have a file?”

His features nearly contorted into a smile, his expression surprisingly warm. “No need to feel so special. We keep files on all our suspects, persons of interest, hell, even I have a file. Trent keeps tabs on everyone. It’s almost an obsession of his.”

That didn’t exactly give way to relief. “And what’s in my file?”

“Not much. Mostly just what little information Mace was able to scrounge up on you.”

Cora stifled an indignant gasp. She shouldn’t be so taken aback. She knew Mace had been assigned to follow both her and Winston. Obviously he would have relayed his findings to Trent. “And what information might that be?”

He shrugged. “You lived on the streets most your life till Winston Gordon took you for a wife. Wife number six, did you know? All but you went missing or died mysteriously.”

Her throat squeezed. She knew Winston had been married before, but she hadn’t realized she’d been number seven, or what had happened to the previous Misses Gordons. She always figured Winston had divorced them. If he hadn’t been assassinated would she have met with the same misfortune as the ones who came before?

She shook the thought away and asked, “What else?”

“You’re a Conwell witch. Perhaps one of the last.”

She knew absolute squat about her lineage, but this vampire actually looked impressed by that. Bray had been shocked to learn her birth name. Even Knox had strong feelings about it.

What was so unique about the Conwells?

Oz frowned, continuing. “You had Brayden’s blood in your system long before the death of your husband.”

“That was Winston’s doing,” she defended. “I had no knowledge of it.”

He responded with a nonchalant shrug. “So you say.”

Her word held little weight with this bunch, that was clear. Trent’s entire clan could very well see her as their enemy. As much as that irked, there seemed nothing to be done about it. Mace believed her, and that was enough. Well, almost. She worried Trent was sowing discord in Bray’s mind this very moment.

“And you managed to secure your safety by bonding both Mace and Knox. A feat that almost seemed impossible, or at least, very unlikely. But then, they always did have the same taste in women.”

She focused on the first part of his statement. “In what way does that secure my safety?”

He looked at her as though she were half-daft. “It’s a crime to harm a bond mate.”

She stilled, filing away that information. “And you want to harm me?”

“Not I, but some. There are those who believe there could’ve been no way for a wife not know of the husband’s dealings.”

She signed. “It’s easy to be blinded when you don’t really want to see.”

He appeared to evaluate that, but made no comment.

Just then, Phoebe squeaked out, “Kitty!”

Cora spun around. “What did you say?” She followed the child’s gaze into the thick brush a few yards away. “You saw a kitty?”

Her heart leapt at an answering meow.

“Meeka?” she called.

Soft gray ears emerged from behind a bundle of leaves, followed by a pair of wide green eyes.

“Goddess of light and dark, you’re okay!” She stretched out her hands.

Meeka bound forward to be scooped up in her arms. Purring, the feline snuggled against Cora’s chin with the top of her soft head.

Cora hugged Meeka to her chest, then examined her thoroughly for any traces of harm. Meeka appeared well. Whole. And apparently ready for play time. She swatted at a lock of Cora’s hair before scrambling from her hold to dart after a leaf that floated by, pouncing on it just as it found the earth.

The children laughed uproariously and then proceeded to chase Meeka around for a chance to pet her silky fur.

“Cute cat,” said Oz, sounding rather uninterested.

Meeka was exceptionally tolerant as Preston wrapped his arms around her little body and awkwardly lifted her in order to relocate her a few feet away to a spot he deemed more suitable for petting.

Cora watched with a generously lighter heart than before. Finally things were looking up.

Suddenly Meeka paused and hissed at something behind Cora. In a flash, she transformed into her larger, prehistoric-looking form that sent the children screaming and running to hide behind Cora.

Oz grated out a curse and jumped back, his wide eyes on the new creature before him.

Cora glanced at the threat Meeka indicated. Trent was on his way back, followed by Bray. At seeing Meeka they halted, taking a stance as if to attack.

“It’s okay.” Cora rushed to place herself in front of Meeka. “She’s my familiar.”

The three men reared back, incredulous.

Attempting to calm Meeka, she lightly scratched behind her massive ears. Meek sat and turned her head into Cora’s touch, but she remained tense. Was it the approach of two strange vampires that had alarmed her? Or just one in particular?

Realization punched Cora in the chest. Trent and Bray had returned alone. “Where’s Mace? What’s happened? What did you find?” She feared the worst.

“No one’s inside,” Trent announced, not taking his eyes from Meeka. In fact, everyone was riveted—mostly to her six inch dagger-like fangs.

“What do you mean no one’s inside?” she said.

“The place is empty,” Bray replied, seeming somewhat calmer than the others, but only a fraction.

“What about the underground—”

“We checked. No sign of anyone.”

“But it’s huge down there. And that’s where Knox trapped Mace before. They must be in there.” Her gut tightened with worry. She wanted so badly to run inside and see for herself.

Bray cautiously approached, warily eyeing Meeka. Meeka cocked her head, ears perked up with curiosity as she followed him with an intense gaze.

He turned a mitigating expression on Cora. “Perhaps they’re in town. Or out searching for you.”

She shook her head. “If that were the case, Mace would be answering his phone. He wouldn’t be responding to Trent with such placid, detached texts. Knox has him incapacitated somewhere. I’m sure of it.”

“Why don’t you just scry for them?” Oz asked Cora. “You’re a witch aren’t you? Isn’t that what witches do?”

“I…” Cora blushed. “I don’t know how. I haven’t exactly learned how to use magic yet. At least not well.” Derisively, she added, “I’m surprised that’s not in my file too.”

Trent shot a glare at Oz, then returned to the subject at hand. “What of that other witch you mentioned? Saraphine? Could she scry for them?”

“Saraphine could probably do it, but I doubt she’d be eager to help.”

Trent’s grin sent chills over Cora’s spine. “I can be very persuasive.”

One short helicopter ride later, followed by a brief hike, Cora, Bray, and Trent reached the edge of town. Oz volunteered to remain behind with the children. Cora insisted Meeka stay as well, mostly for the children’s protection, but she didn’t say that aloud. No one argued as long as Meeka remained in her kitten form. It had taken a few minutes, but eventually everyone had warmed up to Meeka. Of course, only after she had returned to her innocuous manifestation.

“She’ll probably be combative and terse,” Cora warned, referring to Saraphine as the three of them crossed a street. “She and I don’t have the best relationship right now.” That could be considered an understatement, but maybe Saraphine had cooled off since their last meeting. “She might not respond well to threats.” The latter was directed toward Trent. “So it might be best if I do the talking. Just let me handle it.”

She could practically feel Trent’s eye roll.

As they turned the corner onto Saraphine’s block, a strange sensation plumed around her, so potent, her steps faltered. It was a mix between exhaustion, hunger, and despair.

“You alright?” Bray steadied her with a firm grip on her elbow.

“I’m not sure.” She mentally examined the anomaly that shimmied over her skin with unrelenting persistence. She battled a sudden bout of dizziness and nausea. Then came a shadow of unadulterated misery and agony.

She glanced up at Bray, half expecting him to double over in pain—everything that bombarded her now had an aftertaste of the dark bond—but he seemed strong and healthy as ever.

Something down the road drew her attention and everything else faded into the background. She zeroed in on a familiar vehicle with bullet holes along the trunk and a smashed out back window. It sat across the street from Wicked Wares.

“Goddess!”

Trent and Bray jumped at her outburst.

“They’re here!” She pointed. “That’s the car Mace and I borrowed from Cortez.”

Bray grimaced at the sedan. “My brother lent you that junker? He used to have better taste than that. And manners.”

“It was a whole car before we got a hold of it.” At his look she sighed, “Long story.” Then she hurried down the side walk.

The bell above the door to Wicked Wares jingled with authority as she burst inside.

Saraphine was sitting with her outstretched legs crossed atop the counter, her heavy black booted heels on display while she perused the pages of an old tattered magazine.

She glanced up. The magazine fell from her grip as she clamored to stand. Her mouth dropped opened as if to speak, but no words emerged.

Trent and Bray entered behind Cora, surveying the shop with the natural mien of law enforcement.

Cora glanced around as well, not seeing Mace or Knox. Without asking permission, she rushed to the backroom.

Empty?

Returning to the front, she demanded of Saraphine, “Where is he?”

“Huh?” Her eyes darted, on the verge of panic. “W-Who?”

“Mace,” Cora cried. “Where is Mace?”

“How should I know?” Saraphine set her shoulders in confidence, but there was a false note in her tone, and Cora wasn’t the only one to hear it. Bray and Trent shared a look.

“I know he’s here,” Cora replied. “They’re both here. We saw the car out front.”

Saraphine paled. “That thing broke down out front a few weeks ago. Been there ever since. I have no idea where Mace is, let alone that murdering bastard.”

She was lying!
Straight to my face!

It wasn’t difficult to surmise what Saraphine was up to. And why Mace had never come looking for her.

Something dangerous flashed behind Trent’s eyes, which were trained on Saraphine. He appeared to be coming to the same conclusion…and he could be
very persuasive
. Cora held up a halting hand, hoping Trent would give her time to convince Saraphine to come clean before he did…whatever it was he was thinking of doing.

She turned to Saraphine. “You have no idea what’s been happening. What I’ve been through.” She spurred the urgency in her voice. “Or what will happen if you don’t take me to Mace right now.”

Saraphine hesitated, eyeing the two vampires. Her voice lost much of its confidence. “I told you, I don’t…”

“I can
feel
them,” Cora informed her.

Saraphine closed her mouth, her eyes darting once more. Cora could sense the building of power. Of magic.

“Sara,” she warned, “don’t—”

Raising her hands, Saraphine blasted a stream of power towards Cora. The attack pounded anger through her every cell, clearing her mind of all else and making her quick to react.

She lifted her arms to block the onslaught and planted her feet—as she had witness Saraphine do when Sadira had attacked her.

The force of Saraphine’s power pushed her back like the ramming of a bull, but, amazingly, Cora managed to keep her stance. Magic curled around her, the pressure growing immense. She couldn’t keep up her visceral shield much longer.