This time I was the one to laugh. “This is the straw that broke the vampire’s back, is it? Me seeking out an alpha-witch-slash-murder-suspect is enough for you to agree that Markus is not the worst evil in this equation.”
He scrubbed a hand over his forehead, giving me a frustrated look. “I’m trying to find a middle ground here and prevent you from getting yourself killed.”
I rolled my eyes. “Honestly, do you really think I’m going to march up to Raina, tell her I know what she really is, and demand that she help us? Hardly. I’m not naive enough to think I’d have a frozen margarita’s chance in hell. However . . .” I flicked a look at Rose. “Please keep an eye on Owen.”
She nodded. “I’ll do my best.”
“Sarah!” Owen roared after me as I left the room without a backward glance. “Let me out of these cuffs! Oh, come on! This isn’t fair!”
“What are you doing, Sarah?” Thierry was right on my heels.
“Stuff,” I replied.
“That’s not an answer.”
“What does the amulet do?” I asked pointedly.
His jaw tensed. “Stuff.”
“Exactly.”
Down in the living room, Heather was poring over the grimoire. When she looked up at me, there was relief in her eyes.
“You’re better!”
“I’m getting there.” The grandfather clock chimed to announce it was six o’clock. I could barely believe it had been only six hours since we’d crashed Raina’s book club meeting.
“There’s nothing in here,” she said, returning her focus to the weathered pages. “I keep reading it, flipping through it, but there is literally nothing else. I can’t believe she only has a couple pages of vampire blood magic spells. If there were more—”
“Forget that right now.” I sat down next to her on the couch. “I need to find Miranda. I need her address. And do you have any idea where she might be right now other than that karaoke bar?”
She made a face. “Miranda? Why?”
“I have questions for her about her pal Raina. Miranda’s part of the coven, but she seemed pretty genuine when I talked to her at Mulligan’s last night. I think she might be able to help me.”
For a moment, I thought Heather’s distaste for the blond witch might keep her from being open to this idea. But instead she closed the grimoire, stood up from the couch, and moved toward the table in the adjoining room where we’d done the séances. I followed, ignoring the glaring master vampire’s spirit behind me.
“Sarah, stop this right now.”
I didn’t even look at him. “No, don’t think I will.”
Heather grabbed the local newspaper. “This is where pretty much everyone will be this evening.”
I glanced down at the headline to see there was a street festival going on. “She’ll be here?”
She nodded. “Miranda sells handmade jewelry. She’s normally at these events hawking her wares to anyone who likes her glass beads and fake breasts.” Her expression soured. “She’ll definitely be there.”
I scanned the article, noting where it took place—not all that far away from the inn. “What about Raina? Has she been by again?”
“No. It’s been really quiet.”
“You stole the grimoire of an alpha witch,” Thierry said stiffly. “It’s hers, not some ancestor’s.”
I finally glanced at him, bracing myself for a multitude of arguments. “I’m sure you have a point.”
“She’ll do whatever it takes to get that spell book back.”
“I have no doubt she will. Therefore, I need to work fast and get the info I need.”
“By questioning Miranda about her coven leader.”
“Exactly.” I looked up at his face, my chest tense. “So now what? Are you going to try to stop me? Or is this the point when you tell me that you’re super-happy being a ghost and you want to stay like this forever?”
He cocked his head. “Do you really think that’s a possibility?”
I ignored the lump in my throat. “Well, gee, let me think. You’ve fought this horrible thirst for six centuries. Now it’s gone, you’re free, and everything’s peachy again. I think there must be a part of you that is relieved right now.”
“I won’t deny it; there is.” Finally, the smallest edge of a smile played at his lips as he studied my face, noting my distress. “But that doesn’t mean I’ve given up this fight. I don’t want to stay this way if I can help it. Not being alive, not being able to touch you, to be with you, Sarah . . . it’s far worse than any thirst I must deal with.”
The tightness finally eased, both in my throat and in my heart. It was a rather huge understatement that his words had given me relief. “Then you’re okay with me going to the festival to talk to Miranda alone?”
“Absolutely not.” He began to move toward the front door, glancing over his shoulder when I didn’t automatically follow. “I’m going with you.”
I was at his side a moment later, looking up with surprise into his face—which glowed just a little with ghostly luminescence in the darkening hallway. “You are?”
“Argument?”
“None at all.” I grinned. “An excellent idea, I think. You’ll be my ghostly sidekick. The Nearly Headless Nick to my Hermione Granger.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Are you aware that you reference Harry Potter nearly every day?”
I shrugged. “I can’t help it. Those books rock.”
And I had renewed optimism about our team effort in getting to the truth about Raina and figuring out how to enlist her help—with Miranda’s assistance. I was totally open to blackmail if necessary, but I knew I had to play these cards just right. After all, in this town, they weren’t playing cards; they were tarot.
“We’ll be back as soon as we can,” I called over my shoulder to Heather.
“Okay! I’ll stay here with Grandma and Owen. Good luck!”
I pushed open the front door and slipped out with Thierry at my side. I made it to the bottom of the porch steps and started toward the sidewalk. “It’s only a few blocks away. Ten minutes tops if we hurry.”
“Sarah . . .” Thierry’s tone made me stop, turn around, and look at him with alarm.
“What’s wrong?”
He stood just at the bottom of the steps, holding his hands out in front of him. “A problem, I’m afraid.”
It took me a second to realize who he reminded me of, but it was Owen—in his body—last night. “Oh, crap. Heather’s doggy spell.”
He nodded. “It seems that it also affects me. Owen possesses my body, but the spell believes we are the same person, whether my spirit is separate or not.”
Disappointment was like a sucker punch to the gut. “Well, that blows. Can she remove the spell? I mean, Owen’s tucked away safely upstairs, and she’s got to . . .” I frowned. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
His expression had suddenly grown stricken. “Sarah—”
“Hi, Sarah,” Raina said.
I froze and then swiveled slowly on my wedge heels to see the raven-haired witch standing only a couple of yards away. My stomach dropped.
“Raina . . . hey there. How are you doing?”
“Fine, thanks.” She gave me a cold smile.
“Gee, I really do appreciate the offer,” I began, “but I’m not interested in joining your book club. I’m only passing through Salem, so I can’t commit.”
“That’s too bad.” Her eyes flashed red. “We could have had some deep discussions about theme and metaphor.”
“Sarah, come back to the house,” Thierry growled. “Now.”
I couldn’t stop looking in the witch’s eyes. “I would if I could, Thierry. But—I can’t move.”
“Make no mistake, witch.” Thierry’s words were as sharp as blades. “If you do anything to harm her, I will kill you.”
She didn’t look away from me, or else she’d risk breaking this mojo holding me frozen to the spot. “He sounds like he means it, but in hi
s current state I’d really like to see him try.”
I knew this was one of Thierry’s worst fears—not that he was afraid of much after his long life of trials and struggle. But he wanted me to be safe, to be happy, and he’d put his own life on the line in order to ensure my continued well-being.
And now he couldn’t do anything to save me. He couldn’t do anything but watch as the witch reached out to touch my face. The smile on her red lips was the only friendly thing about her. Her gaze held only malice. Only evil.
She patted my cheek. “Sleep now.”
I couldn’t fight it. I did exactly what she told me to do. I slept, afraid I’d never wake up again.
Chapter 14
Luckily, I did wake up. And when I did, I noticed two very different things.
The first was a headache from hell, reminding me that I’d been magically knocked out by a revenge-seeking witch and now, judging by the dark, dank place where I’d gained consciousness, I seemed to be in serious trouble. Understatement.
The second thing I noticed was a toad. It was staring at me.
I raised my head enough to meet its direct gaze.
“Hey there, Hoppy,” I managed in not much more than a hoarse whisper. “Glad to see you’re still alive.”
Hoppy croaked.
“For now,” another voice said.
I swiveled my head in the opposite direction to see Raina standing a half dozen feet away with her arms crossed over her designer blouse. Next to her, looking even less amused, was her second in command from the coven book club, the perky blonde Casey.
So my plan to talk to Miranda, the comparatively “nice” one, who could help ease me into a meeting with the alpha witch and, essentially, make a deal with the devil for a spell to fix Thierry, seemed to have hit a snag. A big one. A big, ugly, warty one.
But I didn’t have the luxury of time to panic. I needed to deal with this situation as best I could. Although the “not panicking” thing would take some effort.
“I want my grimoire back,” Raina said bluntly.
Stay calm, Sarah.
I exhaled shakily. “So you, what? Kidnapped me and dragged me to your dark, nasty dungeon?” I glanced around uneasily. This place actually did look like a dungeon. That really wasn’t a good sign.
The witch’s eyes sparked with anger. “That book has been around for a very long time.”
So had she. But I didn’t dare say that out loud. A big part of me wished I’d never seen her cozying up to Malik. I had to fight to keep my disgust off my face.
Instead, I forced a disarming smile. “So why don’t we talk about it? I’m finished with it, so let’s go ahead and arrange a trade with Heather. No hard feelings. Nothing’s been damaged. Release me and Hoppy, and you get your book back. No problem.”
Her expression soured, turning her beautiful face momentarily ugly. “Do you even know what kind of magic is contained between those covers?”
Even her voice made me shudder—and not just with fear. This witch had no soul, she’d helped murder her own kind, and she still lived in a big house, with a nice car and a fabulous wardrobe. Karma sure hadn’t worked properly for her. Not yet, anyway. “Magic, huh? And here I thought you were all part of a book club and that grimoire was just another book.”
“Let’s not play games, Sarah,” Raina hissed.
“Yeah, no games,” Casey agreed.
I flicked a look at Raina’s eager sidekick. “Can’t really play any games with my hands tied behind my back, can I? Are you admitting you can do magic, Raina?”
Raina’s lips thinned. “Perhaps.”
Maybe I did want to play games after all, but I was going to play very quietly and stealthily to try to eke out some information.
Bottom line, despite this unfortunate situation, I still saw Raina as the only chance I had to get Thierry’s spirit back into his body and to end Owen’s possession of it. I wasn’t happy that I’d run out of choices, but I knew I was rapidly running out of time.
“So what does that mean?” I said, as if completely ignorant and confused by all of this. “You’re a . . . witch?”
Her eyes narrowed. “And you’re a vampire.”
Looked like I wasn’t nearly as stealthy as I would have liked.
I tried to recover from that surprise blow. Three vampires had disappeared in Salem without a trace. Owen had been murdered remotely by a witch’s death spell. The dark-haired witch standing before me was my prime suspect as the resident vampire killer.
And now she knew what I was, too.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Thierry had it wrong. I could lie when I had to—when it really mattered. And right now, it really did.
“Oh, give me a break!” Casey yanked my hair away from my neck to bare my wound from Owen’s bout of bloodlust. “Typical. Vamps love to suck each other’s blood. It’s so weird.” Then she grabbed my lip and pulled it up so she could poke at my teeth. “You have fangs. Don’t try to deny you’re a bloodsucker. We know exactly what you are. What do you have to say now?”
Say? Nothing.
I bit her. Hard. After all, her finger was in my mouth. She was asking for it.
She yanked her hand back, shocked. “You bitch!”
“Casey,” Raina growled. “Leave us. You’re not helping matters.”
“I’m bleeding!”
“Go get a Band-Aid. It’s only a flesh wound.”
I glared at Casey. “Is that O-negative? You’re lucky that’s not my favorite blood type.”
“Yeah, more like you’re the lucky one.”
I rolled my eyes. “Good comeback.”
She finally left, holding her barely injured hand close to her chest for protection. I glanced at Hoppy, who continued to watch us, as pensively as a toad could, and tried to concentrate on something other than the fleeting taste of blood, which had triggered my thirst. It was nothing like what Thierry had to deal with, but it was enough to distract me.
The door clicked shut behind me. While Casey had been annoying beyond belief, she seemed relatively harmless. At least, next to Raina. Now I was alone with an evil alpha witch who kept herself young and beautiful eternally, thanks to a constant rinse and repeat of vampire blood magic.
There had to be a way for me to turn this around. Either I needed her to help me—which, let’s face it, wasn’t looking good—or I needed to get out of there so I could call Markus and put my backup plan into action.
“Are you thirsty?” Raina asked. “Has it been a long time since you last fed?”
“I’m okay.” I leveled my gaze with hers. “But if you want to offer yourself up, I prefer a wrist. I mean, I barely know you and I am a bit of a germaphobe.”
“Don’t worry, it takes a long time for a vampire to starve themselves into a corpse-like state.”
I repressed a shudder. So that was what happened if a vampire didn’t drink blood? A corpse-like state? “You know this from personal experience?”
She absently brushed a bit of lint off her tailored jacket. “Yes. Actually, I do.”
Oh boy. Never trust a witch with a medieval dungeon at the ready. Lesson of the millennium.
Her jaw tensed. “What did you want with my grimoire, vampire?”
I shrugged. “I was searching for a spell. Duh.”
“What spell?”
“One to help me fix a problem.”
She gave me an unpleasant smirk. “A problem with your husband?”
My chest tightened. “I have lots of problems.”
Raina walked a slow circle around my chair. I swear the woman was wearing Eau d’Intimidation as a cologne. “Here’s what I know about you, Sarah. You’re newly married to a master vampire named Thierry de Bennicoeur. He’s old. Ancient, in fact. You’re clearly not. He’s currently cast out of his body, which is why I saw his spirit back at the bed-and-breakfast—and he seems to be trapped there. I don’t know much more beyond that. I honestly don’t care what happened to him. What I want to kno
w is why you came to Salem in the first place. It’s not a popular vacation spot for vampires.”
“I’m a huge fan of Bewitched.” I ignored my racing heart. “Had to come here for my honeymoon. Always been a big dream of mine.”
“You’re lying.” She grabbed my chin and forced me to meet her gaze directly as her eyes shifted to red. “Now tell me the truth.”
Just like before, I couldn’t seem to look away. A tingling, electric sensation slid down my throat; then my words spilled out before I had a chance to stop them. “Thierry works for the Ring as a consultant, which is another way of saying he’s an investigator for them. He was sent here to check out the recent disappearances of three master vampires.”
Her eyebrows rose just a little at this, starting with my mention of the Ring. “And what have you discovered?”
“Mostly that I’m pretty sure you’re the one to blame.”
My stomach sank as I listened to the words fly out of my mouth like a swarm of gossipy butterflies.
She cocked her head. “What else are you pretty sure about, vampire?”
I tried to force the words back, but they had minds of their own. “You killed Owen Harper in Heather’s driveway, whacking him remotely like a vampire-shaped piñata.”
This received no reaction at all, other than a slight tightening of her cheeks. “Sounds like I’ve been very busy.”
She’d put some sort of truth-telling spell on me, but now I struggled with every ounce of my strength against it. It was like trying to move through sticky taffy.
“What else?” Her words were sharp.
“You were Jonathan Malik’s lover during the Salem witch trials.” Nothing but duct tape over my mouth would have had a chance of stopping this outpouring of the truth. “You helped him hunt the other witches he tortured and killed, you heinous red-eyed bitch.”
The moment the words were out, her expression froze and she staggered back a step, finally breaking eye contact with me.
She wanted the truth—she’d magically forced me to spill all of it against my will.
I’d always known my mouth was going to be the death of me someday. Looked like it was going to be today.
At this point, I pretty much had nothing to lose.