A Kiss of Blood (Vamp City #2)(40)

“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.