A Kiss of Blood(23)

Arturo frowned, his eyes scanning the horizon in every direction before he finally began to speak. "Legend has it, the Levenach Curse is centuries old, perhaps millennia, placed by the Black Wizard, from whom all Blackstones are descended, on his arch enemy, the wizard Levenach."

"They obviously hated one another."

"Levenach had stabbed the Black Wizard with a blade empowered to kill him. With the Black Wizard's dying breath, he swore that none of Levenach's heirs would ever again have access to their magic."

"How is a curse like that lifted?"

"It isn't. Only the one who performed the curse can lift it."

"And the Black Wizard died moments after uttering it."

"Yes."

She could almost imagine that she felt the curse twisting around her organs, choking them. A curse that she was stuck with for life, for it could never be lifted. But perhaps it didn't matter. Not as long as she was able to access her Blackstone magic.

"So if we can reach Vintry in time and get him to disentangle my two magics, I should be able to renew Vamp City and, hopefully, free Zack from its effects. Will it be enough to keep my battling magics from triggering the crumbling again?"

"I do not know. Once you have renewed the magic, you must leave D.C. regardless. You'll never be safe from Cristoff. Never."

As they rode, the cool breeze caressed her cheeks and lifted strands of her hair. But her mind was in turmoil, questions darting every which way. Unfortunately, most were questions Arturo had no better answers to than she did. Who had her Levenach ancestor been? How powerful might she be if not for the curse?

If only there were someone to ask, some relative still living from that side of her family. But her mom had been an only child and had lost her parents at nineteen. Then she'd died herself when Quinn was only two. If any of them had possessed magic, Quinn had no way to know.

"What did Tarellia mean when she said Vintry is aging?" she asked aloud, one question Arturo should be able to answer.

"The fae are not entirely immortal. They live two to three millennia before they begin to grow old. But once the aging begins, it happens very quickly. Within weeks of its onslaught, the fae will wither and die."

That was sad, in a way, and yet perfect, too. Who wouldn't love to live for lifetimes, retaining their youthful appearance and strength right up until their last days?

Arturo coaxed his horse into a canter, urging her to give it a try. For a short while, the increased speed kept her mind engaged on the riding and off the questions.

Suddenly, Arturo pulled up, muttering something low and short in Italian. Then, "Cara."

She managed to bring her horse to a stop, though she suspected her mount of reacting more to Arturo's than her own inexperienced attempts at control.

"What's the matter?" Quinn asked quietly. But she knew the moment she saw the dark forms beginning to slink out from behind the trees a short distance ahead, more than a dozen of them. Huge, pelted, four-legged forms. Wolves.

Werewolves.

Arturo eyed the wolves with dismay, his muscles tensing for the fight that was almost certain to come. The werewolves snarled, circling them, sliding out from behind the trees.

Mio dio, this was not good. The wolves were hungry, and while they might attack him, it was sweet human flesh they craved. Quinn's flesh.

His muscles tensed. They would not get it. He would not let them harm her.

His horse nickered with fear. Quinn's mount began to shy, and he urged his own closer, grabbing her reins to keep hers from throwing her.

Options ran through his mind, lightning fast. Diplomacy? His power of persuasion almost never worked on werewolf minds, not when they were in their animal forms. His only real option was to grab Quinn and run.

Trust me, cara.

Snatching her off of her mount and into his arms would be easy. But the wolves, while not as fast as he was, had an uncanny ability to track a vampire's movements. Breaking through the line that now surrounded them would not be easy at all.

"No," she said quietly, her voice tight with strain. "Don't touch me." The telltale glow of power leaped into her eyes even as she pulled and cocked her gun. "Where should I aim?"

"The head. It will slow them down the fastest."

"But not kill them?" She was shaking from her struggle to keep hold of the power.

"Not necessarily."

Tension knotted his muscles as the need to snatch her away warred with the certainty that he must do everything possible to aid her in maintaining control. He prepared, as she did, for the only other option.

Fight.

The ground began to quake. A crack of thunder rolled across the skies. Sunbeams burst through in the distance, at least three that he could see.

Quinn's gaze flew to his, her eyes widening. Wild. She was losing control. "I did that," she gasped, clutching the reins with one hand while the gun in her other vibrated badly. She'd never be able to hit anything like that.

Hold on to the power, cara. We stand a better chance if you remain mounted and in control.

"I'm trying."

As the wolves slowly closed in, saliva dripping between jagged teeth, Arturo drew his knives. Somehow, he had to keep them from her. All of them.

If his heart could still race, it would be racing now. If the sweat could still roll from his brow, it would be rolling.

Then lose control hard, Quinn. Send them flying and make your escape.

"What about you?"

I shall follow. Because she'd never get away from this hungry pack, not without help.

The blast happened suddenly, hitting him like an eighteen-wheeler. He went flying off his horse even as his mount stumbled and pranced, barely missing him. As his mount shied from the encroaching wolves, Arturo leaped to his feet and flew toward Quinn.

But so did the wolves.

Quinn lifted her gun and fired, but the sound spooked her already skittish horse, and it reared. Somehow, Quinn managed to hold on, but her control of the animal was negligible at best.

As Arturo started for her, a second power blast sent him tumbling back into the wolves. And this time when he rose, he was cut off. Twelve beasts stood between him and Quinn, half snarling at him, the other half circling her as if ready to pounce.

Quinn fired another shot. And another.

His head began to pound, his muscles tensing as he drew his sword and attacked the closest wolf. "She is the only one who can save Vamp City. Do not harm her!"

But the wolves reacted with only more relish, and his stomach twisted with the certainty that they'd heard . . . and likely believed . . . the old wives' tale that consuming the flesh of a sorcerer would convey the power to the one who ate him. A wolf with a sorcerer's power would have no reason to fear the demise of Vamp City. He would, presumably, walk away unscathed.

It was a foolish belief. And one that could get Quinn killed.

Hacking at the wolf in front of him, killing him, he pushed his way toward her, but two more leaped at him in wolf form. He fought them, too, crazed with fear that the beasts would begin to tear at Quinn's flesh before he could reach her.

More shots rang out. He had no idea how full her magazine was when she started, but sooner or later, she would empty it.

Her emotions blasted him-fear, anger, determination. So far none of them included pain.

A second wolf's blood spilled beneath his blade, and a third. But there were too many of them!

Once more, Quinn fired, but when her mount reared this time she lost her precarious hold.

Arturo went berserk as she fell, as he watched the wolves leap at her. He roared with fury, but as he attempted to fly to her, wolves tackled him from all sides, dragging him to the ground. As he fought them, one tore a chunk out of his leg, making him howl with pain and frustration. He swung his sword, finding flesh and fur before sharp teeth tore through the wrist of his sword hand. He moved to shift his sword to his left hand, but another huge furry body plowed into him, knocking him flat.

Before he could fight his way free, a chain slipped over his head, tightening around his neck.

Silver. The one thing that could render a vampire all but powerless. Mio dio. It didn't burn him, didn't physically hurt him. But already he could feel the strength flowing out of him and feel his senses dulling.

Quinn! he shouted telepathically. Fight them off. Find your power and save yourself. Run. You must run!

Instead, she fired another shot.

"We come in peace," he said out loud, his voice low and hypnotic.

"Gag him," a rough voice said nearby. "Silence his persuasion."

A gag was forced into his mouth by a were now in human form, snagging on his fangs. Arturo tried to fight free, but with the silver around his neck, he was now powerless against the far greater strength of his captors. Several more of his attackers shifted into human form and began trussing him up like a lamb for slaughter.

Pain exploded in his head . . . Quinn's pain . . . driving him mad in his need to reach her. A moment later, her emotion flickered out as she fell unconscious. He went feral, struggling against his bonds, to no avail.

Out of the corner of his eye, Arturo saw one of the now-human weres rise, flinging Quinn's limp form over his shoulder. To his desperate eyes, she appeared whole. Unharmed.

His vampire heart began to beat again.

Several of the weres shifted human. "Let us eat her here!" one cried. "If we take her back, there won't be enough to go around."

"The alpha alone will decide her fate." The one carrying her, the largest of the group, glanced at Arturo. "If you need a bite, take it from that one. Just don't kill him. Yet."