Ghost (The Halloween Boys #1) (101)



“Toccata and Fugue in D Minor” whined through the high ceilings of the hollow stone sanctuary. I made the slightest shift in my knee, just enough movement that Onyx knew I was about to tear the coven leader’s head from his shoulders. Dragon put a hand to my chest, stilling me in place. My human form was protective, but my demon form was positively feral in its need to guard my Claimed. I’d sooner kill than ask questions, but Onyx was opposite in that regard. My way was better.

Wolfgang spoke first, feigning a casual stance, though I saw his claws emerging from his hands. I tasted his anger like char from a grill. Good, at least he’d back me up if I decided to rip this motherfucker apart. “The pipe organ has to be the ugliest instrument invented. Makes sense you’d like to play it.”

There was a low chuckle over the disconcerting piece of music. The vampire spoke over his own playing. “You know, I was there when Johann wrote this. I thought it was horrid as well. But it’s grown on me over time. Funny how time does that. And we, as immortals, have so much of it.”

“You have about five seconds to tell me what the fuck you’re doing in my house, Vincent.” I growled, not in the mood for the bloodsucker’s preening and arrogance—both of which he kept on full display at all times. I didn’t blame Onyx for refusing to join his coven.

The music stopped, and before the last key halted its reverberation, he was in front of us, flaunting his preternatural speed. Leaning against a pew, he picked at his pointed nails. “This is the Lord’s house, not yours, Ghost.”

“I am the Lord,” I snarled. I felt a small hand touch my palm, and I calmed slightly, feeling her behind me.

“Get on with it, Vincent.” Onyx took a casual step forward, angling himself strategically between the coven leader and me.

He noticed and smirked. “I come with news. Though, I won’t lie . . . I smelled a lot of tantalizing fun coming from here.”

Wolfgang ignored his baiting. “What news?”

Vincent let out an exasperated sigh and straightened, his long hair glowing white in the light of the moon. “You Halloween Boys really are no fun. So serious all the time . . . and hiding your girl from me as if I haven’t been looking after her since the moment she stepped her human foot into Hallows Fest.” He tsked, “Not a great way to show me gratitude.” I opened my mouth to respond, but he glanced up at me and lifted a pompous hand. “Nevertheless, I came to let you know that something has entered Ash Grove. Something, one of your kind, I imagine, made it past our coven on the outskirts of town.”

My kind, he’d said with disgust. Vampires were self-appointed as top of the immortal food chain, though that was far from reality. Archdemons had superiority over them, and they fucking hated it. “That’s impossible,” I replied. “The witches have the town warded. Nothing not of Ash Grove can enter, so perhaps, once again, you and your kind are incorrect.”

Vincent bared his teeth. “It wasn’t us who brought in a goddamn legion. We’ve been picking off stray demon scum for weeks.”

Onyx snorted. “Nice to know you saw us fighting and decided not to help until it concerned you. Typical.”

The vampire leader looked at each of us with murderous rage. Good. I preferred him like this rather than the aristocrat act. “I’m warning you now, aren’t I? Members of my coven have grown attached to the girl, and I have to say—” He strained a glance through our arms, finding a sliver of her gaze. “Blythe, dear, if you grow tired of the alpha-male barbarism, you’re always welcome in our coven. You’ll find we prefer a more . . . sophisticated standard of being.”

In one swift movement, I’d shoved Onyx back and my hand wrapped swiftly around Vincent’s neck. The asshole didn’t flinch, I’d give him that. “You even so much as think about my Claimed, I will tear you apart, limb by limb, and scatter them across the globe. I won’t burn you, bloodsucker. I’ll just let your filthy pieces crawl through shit trying to put you back together. We’ll see how sophisticated you are then.”

The vampire tensed his jaw, a red glint sparking through his stare. He pushed off my hold and landed on his feet with a thud. “I came to warn you. Believe me or not, that’s your choice.” He turned to leave but stopped on his heel. “Maybe when Ghost calms down, you’ll consider inviting me to your next . . . church service. I’m dying to attend.”

In a flash, he was gone.

“Fucking creep,” Wolfgang said. “You alright, pup?”

I turned, anger simmering, to see Blythe wrapped protectively in Wolf’s hold. He loosened his grip slowly as he noticed my attention. “I’m fine,” she whispered, smoothing out her shirt. “Why do you hate him so much? It sounds like he was only warning us.”

Wolf’s eyebrows rose, and I tasted Onyx’s amusement. They’d never dare question me in a state like this—not shifted, not angry. But she did. It was okay that she did.

“Our relationship with the vampires is strategic. Each group of immortals have their own customs, their own little fucking traps and tricks. The politics between us is complicated and spans thousands of years. You can’t let anyone think you like them too much or they fall out of line. Vincent, for example, hasn’t pissed me off in a decade or so, but he likes dancing close to the line just to fuck with me. I won’t forget the many times he’s declined to lend a hand to our efforts to break the curse . . . or to save the stolen women.”

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