The Keeping Place (Book Six in the Witch Hunter Saga) Page 7

  His fingers speared into her hair, and he lowered his lips toward hers. “It would help.”

  Her cheeks flamed red, and her heart sped up, galloping faster and faster as his body melded with hers, their embrace tightening. Knowing he could hear her pulse, she swallowed hard, the words stuck in her throat. It was easy to form the words in her mind, but saying them was another thing entirely.

  “Shall I say it for you?” he asked, a grin pulling at his lips. “I never took you for demure, Isobel.”

  “Actions speak louder than words,” she quipped.

  Closing his mouth over hers, he kissed her hard, his tongue demanding entrance. She caved beneath his touch, allowing him to dominate, his movements awakening an insatiable need deep within her body. Her fingers hooked around the hem of his shirt, pulling the fabric from the waistband of his trousers.

  Her body trembled under his expert ministrations as their clothing disappeared, his kisses becoming desperate and fast. His control seemed to be holding this time, his thirst for her blood at the back of his mind, but when he raised his head, she felt her heart skip as she beheld his eyes. Instead of a brilliant green, they were black as night. Not even an inch of white showed.

  “You don’t have to fear me,” he whispered, pressing his lips against her neck. His breath fluttered along the curve of her shoulder, and she knew he was hiding himself from her lest she began to fear him. “I can’t control my eyes, but everything else… I love you, Isobel.”

  He moaned softly as she coaxed his face back to hers. Looking into the darkness of his eyes, she traced her fingers over his cheekbones, lovingly caressing his scar.

  “I’m not afraid,” she replied, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I never have been.”

  He sighed, his lips parting, and he struck, kissing her with a strength she almost found overwhelming. He’d been holding back all this time…

  Then after his final fear had been exposed, he lowered her onto the bed, giving her the exact thing she’d desired the moment his lips had first touched hers.

  Him. Her. Euphoria.

  Afterward, as they lay together, one word came to mind. Epic.

  Gabby stared at the blank page in her grimoire and furrowed her brow.

  The moment the rune flared on Gloria’s forehead kept replaying over and over in her mind, and the sound of her brittle neck snapping echoed in her ears. She wasn’t the most straitlaced witch, but she didn’t deserve to die as a vessel of Eleanor’s evil.

  Still, what if Gloria was right? What if she was looking in all the wrong places? If the Keeping Place wasn’t a point on earth, then where was it? In the spirit realm? Her visit had only given her more questions that had posed as answers.

  Movement drew her attention, and she glanced up at Reed, who was lingering by the study door.

  “I thought Eleanor was toast,” he said. “What was she doing following you?”

  She shook her head, feeling torn. He wasn’t meant to know what she was doing, let alone come within inches of a wraith. A wraith who was meant to be dead as far as the Six and the London vampires were concerned.

  “Tell me I can trust you, Reed,” she said, glancing up at him. “I’ve gone along with Nye’s judgment of you, but I don’t know where we stand. You’re evasive, yet you stand there with what looks like blind loyalty. I don’t get it.”

  “What’s there to get?” He shrugged. “I’m a soldier.”

  “You’re also a vampire. I know nothing about you.”

  “I also know nothing about you outside of your reputation,” he argued. “But does that stop me?”

  Her eyes narrowed in warning.

  “So Eleanor possessed that little old lady?” he asked, ignoring her.

  “In a fashion,” she replied, rubbing her eyes. “She was watching and listening. She never had control of her.”

  “But she had to be close? That’s why you came to check on me.”

  “What? Did you think I was worried about your well-being?” she asked with a smirk.

  “I think that’s my cue to retire for the night.” He sighed and nodded his head. “Do you need anything before I go?”

  “No, thank you.”

  She watched him leave, her mind swirling with too many conspiracy theories to worry about one vampire’s intentions. Reed was a puzzle for another day.

  Gabby couldn’t even picture her future when she sat down and really thought about what she wanted. Not what her duty as a witch dictated but what she wanted in her heart. Love, companionship, a family. She’d fallen in love with a two-thousand-year-old vampire, a man she was supposed to hate, so how was that meant to go long term? Did she want to have children? She was the last of the Cohen line, so did that mean it was part of her duty to allow her heritage to continue?

  The thought tumbled around her brain for a moment, and she sat up straight, her grimoire slipping from her fingers and falling to the floor with a thud.

  The seed. The bearer of fruit. The Keeping Place… It couldn’t be! It was the stupidest thing she’d ever heard, but it wasn’t that farfetched. Was it?

  To resurrect the Unhallowed, Eleanor would need considerable power. Power she couldn’t get from the ley lines. She would need to create something that would be able to wield enough energy, and not just any object would do. Eleanor needed a witch. A living, breathing witch. Gabby was the most powerful alive, but even she didn’t have the ability to bring back a whole coven from the other side.

  Eleanor had to engineer a witch to be able to do it for her. A child that contained Nye’s ability to heal and her witch legacy. But Eleanor couldn’t carry a child, not as a wraith…

  Dammit! The curse she placed on Isobel had to be half of the puzzle. The ritual they subjected Nye to was the other. All this time, they’d been looking in the wrong place.

  As far as Gabby knew, Nye had been keeping his distance from Isobel since the ritual, and her annoyance with him had been rising. Despite him declaring his love for her friend, things hadn’t got…physical. At least she didn’t think so.

  Snatching up her phone, she readied herself for the call she was about to make. How did she tell a vampire, who was meant to be infertile, not to have sex in case he unknowingly planted some kind of magical seed in her friend? Awkward.

  There was no getting around it. She dialed Nye’s number and hoped there was reception wherever he was. When the call connected and began to ring, she heaved a sigh of relief.

  “This better be important,” came his irritated voice.

  “Nye, this is going to sound totally whacked, but don’t sleep with Isobel.”

  “What the hell?” was his annoyed reply. “What kind of question is that?”

  “You’re the seed, and Eleanor was meant to bear the fruit. Bear the fruit.”

  “What are you trying to say, Gabby?”

  “She can’t bear it anymore. Not after you killed her human body. She needed a new vessel.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Dammit. How could he be so thick? “I’m pretty sure the Keeping Place is…”

  A second went by, and then he seemed to get it. “Isobel’s uterus? Bloody hell.”

  “Please, Nye. Until I figure out how to reverse whatever Eleanor’s done…”

  There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and then the words she was dreading came out of his mouth.

  “Too late.”

  Chapter 8

  Sheera stared out over her empire and smiled.

  She stood on the parapets of her castle, the light of the full moon bathing everything in a muted glow that seemed to turn the foulest of cesspools into shimmering silver oases.

  Once, she would have been held prisoner by this night, her wolf side demanding to be brought forth. There’d been no way of stopping the transformation when she was a girl, and every month, all the bones in her body would snap and bend as her human body was shed. It was agony for all who were cursed to run with a pack. That was why Eleanor’s bargain h
ad tempted her so much.

  In the distance, the lights of London were a blight on the horizon. This world was never dark, not like it was when she was young and mortal. The stars shone brilliantly back then, but now they had abandoned the earth.

  Thinking about Nye, Sheera smirked. The fool.

  “You’re getting more predictable as the years go on.”

  Turning at the sound of Eleanor’s voice, Sheera snarled. After hundreds of years and no word, she’d began to think the Unhallowed were dead and gone, their plans for resurrection dissolving along with them. Unfortunately, they’d only been biding their time as they gathered power for a full-frontal assault.

  “Basking in the moonlight?” the wraith raised an eyebrow. “I would’ve thought you’d hate the moon, being what you are.”

  “You know very well that the Triskele are immune.”

  Her lips curved into a sly smile. “And who do you have to thank for that?”

  “If you’re here for an update, I don’t have much of anything to tell you,” Sheera stated. “You’re jumping the gun as usual. A few hundred years of waiting, and now you’re going to spoil it?”

  Eleanor rested her elbows on the stone wall, her gaze fixing on the smear of light on the horizon. “You forget who holds all the cards here, wolf.”

  She said nothing, waiting for the wraith to say what she’d come here to say. In all the long years they’d known one another, Eleanor had always harbored a number of ulterior motives, and none of them were good. Much like the immortality she’d given her, it had come with a price…which she was still paying.

  “Did it pain you to see them together?” Eleanor asked. “Walking hand in hand and gazing into one another’s eyes?”

  “I made the human jealous,” Sheera snarled, “and Nye groveled at her feet. What more do you want?”

  “You still love him after all these years?” Eleanor asked with a snigger. “He never loved you. Not even while he had your body in that cave.”

  “I could have borne the child for you,” she hissed. “I’m immortal. I’m strong.”

  The wraith laughed again. “You? A dog? I don’t think so. Not after the curse I placed on you.”

  “And what about you, wraith?” she asked, turning Eleanor’s spite back onto her. “You loved him once, too, if I remember correctly.”

  Her words didn’t seem to have an effect on her. “Perhaps for a while, but I always knew it would never amount to anything. I took what I could while I was able. Then he became useful in another way.”

  “Your precious seed.”

  Eleanor remained silent, her gaze moving to the sky. Sheera waited, knowing she couldn’t leave even if she tried. Remembering the day when her one-time friend had offered her immortality and immunity from the moon for her and her pack, her blood boiled. She’d been tricked, and it wasn’t until it was too late that she realized the cost of saving her people from endless torment was too great. Nature should never be trifled with.

  Sheera began to feel faint, her head swimming with fatigue, and she stumbled, her hands steadying herself against the stone wall. Her breath caught as she saw her skin begin to move. It trembled as if she was being shaken violently, and then it began to wither.

  “What’s happening to me?” she asked, her bones beginning to ache.

  Eleanor smiled, her eyes glittering with malice. “Do you know what tonight is?”

  Tonight? The full moon. Her gaze flew to the sky as she realized why the wraith beside her had appeared tonight.

  “No, you wouldn’t do this to them.” Sheera gasped as she felt the life bleed from her body.

  “Obviously, it’s a full moon tonight, but not just any old moon. The humans call it a Super Moon. The largest to ever have graced the night sky in seventy years.” She reached out her hand as if she could pluck the celestial body from the sky. “She’s so close you can almost touch her…”

  Sheera’s leg snapped, and she crumpled to the ground with a cry of agony. Her entire body erupted with sweat, millions of tiny hairs sprouting from her skin, and her jaw cracked loudly as it began to elongate.

  “I never understood why werewolves detested their change,” the wraith mused. “I imagine it would be grand to travel the forests as a wolf. Humanity is such a stifling concept.”

  Sheera howled in pain as her spine shattered and fused, then her elbows bent backward, morphing into knees.

  “How long has it been since you’ve changed? One hundred years? Two hundred? More?” Eleanor knelt before the alpha and smoothed back her hair. “Have you forgotten your true nature already? We must never forget where we came from, Sheera. Never.”

  “Bitch,” she managed to snarl before her tongue completely changed into that of a wolf’s tongue.

  “Perhaps,” she replied. “But you gave up on the Triskele and their legacy the day you turned your back on your true nature. The immortal wolf.” Eleanore laughed softly as Sheera felt the last of her human form slip away. Rising to her feet, she bade the wolf to stand, and there was nothing Sheera could do to defy her. “More like the immortal slave.”

  Sheera’s wolf form stood as tall as Eleanor’s breast, her fur as silver as the moon that hung in the sky. Her blue eyes shone in the firelight, her pink tongue licking her teeth as she stood waiting for the woman’s command.

  On the air, she heard the howl of a hundred Triskele wolves as their transformations were completed. The connection she felt between each member of her pack was strong, their sire bond linking her will to theirs. She shared in their fear, for many had just turned for the first time, and their exhilaration as each embraced their animalistic side. They were all connected this night. They would all hunt as one.

  Eleanor’s fingers scratched the top of Sheera’s head, her thumb stroking the soft fur behind her ears.

  “Now be a good dog, and bring me Isobel.”

  “Was that Gabby?” Isobel asked, stirring beside Nye.

  Her entire body hummed in satisfaction, the deep sleep she’d falling into only solidifying the fact she wanted to spend every waking moment with the vampire who’d stolen her heart. She trusted him now, not that she hadn’t before, but she knew something had changed.

  His back was to her, his skin pale even in the warm light from the lamp. He set his cell phone down and rubbed his eyes.

  “Nye, what is it?” she asked again, this time sitting up. Clutching the blanket to her naked chest, she placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “I think we really stuffed up tonight,” he said after a moment.

  Her heart sank, and all the satisfaction she’d been feeling began to fade into dread. “What do you mean? Do you regret this?”

  He turned, and the look on his face was so full of panic, she recoiled.

  “This was Eleanor’s game all along,” he said. “You and I…”

  “Me and you? Nye, I don’t understand…” She began to tremble. It was over, wasn’t it? He regretted being with her, a human. Had everything been a lie? “If you’re going to break my heart, you could’ve at least told me when we got back to London. I’m still naked for heaven’s sake!” She began to scramble from the bed, taking the blanket with her, all the while trying to fight back the barrage of tears that were threatening to overwhelm her. “I know I’m only a bloody human with durability issues, but I have a heart!”

  “Isobel, I didn’t mean…”

  She ignored him as she scooped up her bra and began attempting to put it on under the blanket so he wouldn’t be able to glimpse her flimsy mortal body.

  “Isobel, stop.” Nye appeared before her, his hands grasping her shoulders. “Listen to me.”

  “What?” She shook herself free. “You already said it, Nye. We stuffed up.”

  “You’re not listening to me,” he said. “Bloody hell, you vex me.”

  She was over the emotional whiplash that was their relationship. “Then explain it!”

  “Gabby believes she knows where the Keeping Place is,” he said, attempting to
soothe her. “She called to warn us.”

  “The Keeping Place?” Isobel parroted. “The thing the Unhallowed are looking for? The thing that might resurrect them?”

  The spy nodded. “She kept going on about the seed and the fruit…”

  His gaze dropped to her stomach, and clarity began to flood her mind. Seed. Fruit. She studied this kind of thing, myths and legends and their impact on societies. She should have gotten it long before now.

  “No,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re saying…”

  “The ritual…” Nye began, looking paler than he usually did.

  “I’m pregnant?” she asked, her heart beginning to race. “Pregnant.”

  Holy shit.

  It wasn’t possible. Vampires couldn’t procreate. They couldn’t. Nye said he couldn’t have children.

  She sucked in a few short, sharp breaths, attempting to stave off an all-consuming panic attack. She was having a baby? A baby. In nine months, she was going to squeeze a tiny person out of her…there. Was it even going to be a person? Would it be half-vampire? Would it have any humanity? Would it be born at all?

  “You might be,” he said. “Don’t jump to conclusions just yet.”

  “Too late,” she said. “I’ve already dived in head first. How is this possible? I mean, you’re dead.” She waved her hands at him, not even registering how naked they were standing there talking about a screwed-up miracle. “You’re dead.”

  “Dead-ish,” he said wryly. “Certain things aren’t meant to work anymore.”

  “I don’t get it…”

  “The day she attacked me in the forest in the 1600s,” he said as much to himself as to her. “She was trying to carve a rune into my forehead, but Regulus stopped her. I killed her then, taking out her human form. Whatever she started that day…”

  “She’s trying to finish.”

  “I’m sorry, Isobel,” he pleaded, cupping her face. “I never meant for you to be dragged into this.”

  “I’m pretty sure you never expected her to come back.”

  “I never knew about her plans…”

  “Nye, I believe you,” she said, covering his hands with hers. “Eleanor is using me in her stead. I get it.”