A Kiss of Blood (Vamp City #2)(89)

Arturo swung onto his horse as Micah mounted beside him, and the three started off as Quinn and Kassius waited, giving the others a head start. Kassius would take the fall as Cristoff’s betrayer if they were caught.

Quinn glanced at the tall vampire. “You’re a good friend, Kassius.”

He was quiet for a moment before meeting her gaze, his eyes calm and sure. “I do this out of friendship, yes. But it’s far more than that, Quinn. Someday, Arturo will lead our kovena.”

She looked at him in surprise. “I didn’t know that was part of the plan.”

“Ax doesn’t know it. He doesn’t see himself as a leader, but the finest leaders rarely do.”

“Do you have the gift of foresight? Have you seen the future, then?”

He shook his head. “It’s not the future I see, but my wish that I express. The kovena needs Arturo. More than just the kovena. The true Arturo Mazza, whom you are only beginning to know, has the heart of a lion and the soul of a warrior for good. But, no, he’ll not challenge Cristoff, not until he’s convinced the master we once knew is not coming back. Not until he’s willing to kill him.”

“And that’s not going to happen easily.”

“No.”

“Do you think someone as evil as Cristoff can really change back?”

Kassius said nothing for a moment. “I don’t know, Quinn. I have known instances where a male has lost his soul and regained it again. But Cristoff has fallen so far that I’m not sure there’s any coming back. I just don’t know.”

“If Arturo challenged Cristoff, would the kovena support him?”

“A challenge is a fight to the death. If Ax goes against Cristoff, one of them will die. The winner is the vampire master. Period. The kovena would bow to his power. Some will rejoice. Others will not because Ax won’t allow the cruelty toward humans that they’ve become used to.”

Kassius motioned with his head to the pair of mounts that remained. “It’s time to go.”

They mounted and rode in silence. As they entered the Crux sometime later, Quinn caught sight of several wolves on the hilltops and in the trees. Keeping watch? She lifted a hand in greeting, and one of them gave a shallow bob of his head.

They kept their mounts to a walk until they were well within the Crux, then Kassius stepped up the pace, urging his horse to a canter. Quinn followed. The sooner they completed their task and got away from here, the better. She saw no sign of Arturo or the others, but she knew they were close enough to help if the situation truly went to hell.

Cresting a small hill with dead trees on either side, she glimpsed a familiar flash of colored light that reminded her, as it had every time she saw it, of a small, grounded, aurora borealis. The Focus was a dome of writhing, brilliant color—fuchsia, orange, and blue.

A thrill of anticipation chased the chill of dread down her spine. The last time she’d attempted to renew the magic, she’d been with Grant and Sheridan Blackstone. The three had entered that dome together, but the magic had attacked her, and they’d failed.

If she failed again, today, one of the most potent of the power days, Zack might well be doomed. And Vamp City along with him. None of the vampires believed V.C. would survive the three months until the next of the power days, the winter solstice.

Kassius pulled up about a dozen yards from the Focus, and Quinn did the same. She dismounted, then pulled the book from the saddlebag where she’d tucked it earlier.

“Wish me luck,” she said, eyeing that swirling mass of color with no small amount of trepidation.

“Good luck, sorceress,” Kassius said quietly.

Quinn took a deep breath and stepped forward. The magic wasn’t going to renew itself. As she approached the swirling color, she felt the same tingling on her arms that she always felt near the places where the two worlds bled through. But the magic here was far stronger. And as she stepped within that mass of color, she felt it, thick and heavy, coating her skin, stinging her flesh, as it had the last time.

“Let’s get this over with,” she muttered, and opened the book to the necessary page.

But when she touched the page, the book stung her and she jerked back. What the heck? She tried again, felt the same sting, but forced herself to continue, writing, I’m ready. The moment she finished, she rubbed her fingertip against her jeans, easing the sting. She was beginning to think magic was a bitch. Especially in this place.

She watched the book, glad that the swirling colors of the Focus provided adequate light for her to see. And a moment later, writing appeared in place of her own. Say these words as best you can. What followed was an almost indecipherable string of syllables that barely resembled words at all. Awwer lkjo weeje loiwer orqim coijwe olk aers owera pwid. Quinn stared at them with disbelief and a sinking feeling in the center of her chest as she remembered how quickly and effortlessly Sheridan had whispered the words last time.

As new words continued to scroll across the page, the first of them began to disappear.

“Shit.” She began to sound them out, speaking them as quickly as she could. And as she spoke, the magic continued to dig at her, raking into her skin, burning, stealing her breath. And suddenly that cutting heat broke the surface of her flesh, pouring inside like a boiling syrup, igniting. The book fell from her hands, and she crashed to her knees.

Cara! Arturo’s voice rang in her head.