When Darkness Comes (Guardians of Eternity #1)(80)

'They intend to murder you."

Viper narrowed his gaze. He had no trust for the human. Such a man would sell his soul if he still owned it to save his hide. But Viper could smell the sour desperation that oozed from his sweat. The wizard truly believed the witches were a danger.

"The witches intend to murder me? Why?"

"They want us dead. All of us."

Slowly crouching down, Viper reached out to grasp the man by his throat. At the first hint of a lie, he would put an end to the miserable worm.

'Tell me."

Dante smoldered with violence as he grudgingly followed the witch leading them through the shadowed house. They had barely crossed the threshold when the familiar scent of brewing spells, drying herbs, and darker, less palatable odors clenched at his stomach.

It was a stench he knew all too well.

The witches were preparing a sacrifice.

He intended to ensure that the sacrifice didn't include Abby or himself.

No matter who or what he had to kill.

Staying close behind Abby, his senses swept the shadows. If you knew you were walking into a trap, was it still a trap?

Something to consider.

The rooms were large and empty with vaulted ceilings that gave the impression of space. The air, however, was close and thick with a cloaking heat that pressed uncomfortably on Dante. In his mind, it reeked of dusty cellars and prison walls.

Reaching what once must have been the formal drawing room, the witch paused at the doorway.

"Mistress, I have brought the Chalice," she said in reverent tones.

There was a rustle in the darkness and a low chant before the softness of candlelight chased away the gloom.

With stiff movements, a small, almost frail woman lifted herself from a chair. At a glance she might have been a sweet old grandmother with her fluff of gray hair and lined face. It was only when one noticed the hard brown eyes that the cold, relentless power became obvious.

Managing a tight-lipped smile, the old witch halted before Abby. "My lady. And the guardian." The hard gaze flicked over Dante before the woman waved a hand toward the cavernous room. "Come in and be welcome."

Dante felt Abby's hesitation before she was cautiously moving to take a seat on a leather chair beside the empty fireplace. Dante stood behind her, his body tense and ready to strike.

Just for a moment the unrelenting gaze of Edra weighed his protective stance, as if judging whether or not he would prove to be a hindrance to her plans.

Whatever she decided was not visible on the ancient face. But since he was still standing, he presumed she had concluded he was no threat.

For the moment.

In the blink of an eye, her attention returned to Abby's pale face.

"We have not yet been introduced, although I feel as if we are intimately acquainted. I am Edra." Her gaze narrowed. "And you are?"

"Abby Barlow."

"Ah, the servant," she murmured. "I should have realized you would be the only one near enough to have taken the Phoenix."

"I didn't mean to," Abby assured the woman dryly. "If I had realized what was going to happen, I would have run screaming in the opposite direction."

"Quite understandable." Something that was no doubt supposed to be sympathy touched the lined face. 'You look exhausted, my dear. May I get you some wine?"

Abby nervously cleared her throat. "No, thank you."

'Very well." There was a short, thick silence. "Ybu are well? You have had no difficulty in carrying the Phoenix?"

"Beyond being chased by every demon and dark wizard in Chicago?"

A gnarled hand waved in an imperious motion. "I mean physically. There is no pain? No sickness?"

"My eyes have turned blue, and I have a tendency to light people on fire, but besides that I feel all right"

"That is a relief. Still…" The woman moved close to bend over the chair, ignoring Dante's low growl as she reached out to touch Abby's cheek. "Perhaps you will not mind if I take a moment to ensure the Phoenix is unharmed by… recent events?"

Abby shuddered beneath the woman's touch but didn't pull away. "If you must."

Edra closed her eyes as she murmured beneath her breath. Dante couldn't feel the magic, but he knew it was being woven. His hands clenched at his side. Bloody hell, he hated this.

"It is well, thank the blessed Goddess," the woman breathed. Then, without warning, she gave a sharp gasp and stumbled backward, her hand pressed to her heart. "Oh…"

Abby clutched the arms of the chair. "What?"

With an effort, the witch wrestled control of her composure. Her hand, however, remained an angry red.

The Phoenix had struck out at her.

What the hell did that mean?

"You possess a great deal of power. More than Selena." She narrowed her gaze before she gave a faint nod. 'You shall do well."

Never stupid, Abby regarded the witch with tense suspicion. "Do well?"

"As the Chalice, of course."

The words were smooth, but Dante didn't believe them for a moment. His hand dropped to Abby's shoulder as he regarded the witch with a cold threat.

"We are here for you to remove the spirit."

The candles abruptly flared. A not-so-subtle warning of her sheathed power.