A subtle tension prickled around Dante as he swept a searching gaze about them. "What is it?"
"I'm out of a job, and my rent is due."
There was a moment of sharp silence before Dante tilted back his head to offer a very unsympathetic laugh. With a frown, Abby slapped her hands on her hips.
"What's so funny?"
He reached up to grasp her chin with his slender fingers. "You've become a Chalice for a powerful spirit, confronted demons, and are about to place yourself in the hands of witches. Now you're worried about whether or not you can pay the rent?"
Her eyes narrowed at his amusement. "I'm worried about spending my days pushing a shopping cart down the streets and sleeping under a park bench—very real possibilities that are as bad as any demon or witch."
His brows drew together as his fingers strayed to brush over her cheek. 'You think I would allow you to be tossed into the street?"
Something painful clenched in her heart. Soon enough, the witches would remove the spell from her and Dante would be bound to another. Why would he ever give her another thought?
They were the proverbial ships, or in this case vampire and mortal, who passed in the night.
Troubled more than she cared to admit at the thought of being completely alone once again, Abby forced a stiff smile to her lips.
"Well, you did lock you former lover in a cellar."
"Only in self-defense." His fingers tightened on her face, his expression oddly somber. "I have promised that nothing will harm you, Abby. Nothing. It's a promise I intend to keep no matter what the future might hold."
She was forced to swallow the lump lodged in her throat as her hand lifted to cover the fingers upon her cheek. By God, but he knew how to steal a woman's heart.
"Dante," she breathed softly.
A low groan was wrenched from his throat as Dante pressed his forehead to her own.
"Oh, lover, if you have any pity in your heart, you won't look at me like that. At least not now."
A dark sinful heat raced through Abby as she pressed herself next to Dante's hard body. If they weren't standing in a thorn briar, or if demons weren't chasing them, or if there weren't witches lurking nearby, she would have thrown him to the ground and have had her way with him.
Damn but he made her hot and bothered.
Unfortunately, no amount of wishing could change their situation, and with a shuddering sigh, she forced herself to step back.
"We should find the coven," she said with a resigned grimace.
Dante briefly closed his eyes, as if battling for control, before lifting his head and sweeping his gaze over the star-studded sky.
"Yes, dawn will come too soon. Let's get this done."
Chapter 9
The past centuries had taught Dante more than a few lessons.
Never dine upon drunkards. Never turn your back on an angry woman. Never bet on a horse named Lucky. Never wrestle a Chactol demon after a bottle of gin.
And never, never ignore pure instinct.
That last lesson had been the hardest and best learned, which was why he had not directly headed for the coven, although he had managed to catch its scent only a mile from the abandoned factories.
There was something not at all right, he decided as they drew closer. An icy chill prickled over his skin, and the smell of fresh blood filled the air.
A battle had been fought nearby. A battle that had involved powerful magic and undeniable slaughter.
Skirting the trees that hid the coven from view, Dante attempted to determine the danger ahead. He could sense no demons, but he was no longer certain that it was the creatures of the night who posed the greatest threat.
And that, of course, was what troubled him the most.
Devil spit.
He didn't like the feeling that he was being led by the nose by this unseen enemy. And yet, what choice did he have but to go forward?
He had to find the witches.
Even if it killed him.
A thought that pissed him off royally.
Glancing over his shoulder, he watched as Abby struggled to free her shirt from a clinging thorn bush. A faint smile twitched at his lips. She truly was the most unusual of creatures. As rare and precious as the finest jewel.
As if sensing his gaze, she abruptly jerked her head up to glare at him with that glorious annoyance that she seemed to reserve solely for him.
"Dammit, if we're going to walk in circles, can we at least do it somewhere that sells mocha ice cream and has air-conditioning?"
"We aren't walking in circles," he instinctively denied, only to give a faint grimace. "At least not precisely."
"I suppose you possess some sort of bat vision?"
He flicked his brow upward. "You do know that bats are blind?"
She gritted her teeth. "Vampire vision, then."
He gave a shrug. "I can see well enough, not that it truly matters. I'm not looking for the coven.""What?" Her eyes glittered with danger in the fading moonlight. "I swear to God, Dante, if you've led me through this mutant briar patch for some sort of joke, I'll st—"
"Stake me, yes, I know," he drawled. 'You might try to be a bit less predictable, lover."
"You didn't give me the chance to say where Yd stake you," she snapped.
A flare of humor raced through him. "True."
"For God's sake, if we're not looking for the coven, then what the hell are we doing out here?"
"I said I'm not looking for the coven and I'm not," he corrected smoothly. "I'm trying to smell it."
The prickly anger slowly faded as she realized her hasty mistake.
"Oh. Are you having any luck?"
That icy shiver once again crawled over his skin as Dante turned toward the hidden coven.
"It's just beyond that line of trees."
She followed his gaze, her eyes narrowing. "I'll have to take your word for it since I can't see jack crap."
"It's there."
"Then why are we waiting?" She sent him a puzzled frown. "I thought you wanted to get this over with?"
"Something is not right."
He felt her tension at his blunt admission. Obviously whatever her feelings for him, she at least had learned to trust his instincts.
A dark satisfaction lodged itself in his heart but was swallowed swiftly by an inner shudder.
Bloody hell, he was acting as sappy as any mortal. To imagine an immortal vampire scrounging about for pathetic scraps tossed at him by this woman.
Perhaps he should be staked.
"How do you know something's wrong?" she demanded in a soft whisper.
With an effort, Dante wrenched his thoughts back to the troubles at hand. They were surely enough to deal with.
"I smell blood."
"Blood?"
"Lots of blood."
"Oh God."
"I must find out what happened."
Without warning, she reached out to grasp his fingers with her own. The warmth of her swiftly traveled through his skin to heat his entire body.
'You think the witches have been attacked?"
There was no point in lying. Not when they would have to approach the coven.
'Yes."
"I…" She paused, tilting up her head to stab him with a narrowed gaze. 'You're going to try and make me stay here, aren't you?"
"No." He made the decision swiftly. "Until I know what's happening, I can't be certain that there isn't something still creeping about."
Her grip abruptly tightened upon his fingers. 'You had to say that, didn't you?"
"I want you to be on your guard."
She made a sound of disgust at his warning. "I'm wandering through the dark with a vampire, searching for a gaggle of witches who may or may not flay us alive. You think I'm not on my guard?"
He gave a small tug to pull her close, his hand gently cupping her face.
"What I think is that the worst is yet to come," he murmured.
"Perfect." Allowing her gaze to meet his own, she momentarily stilled. The stark awareness flared in her eyes then; with a faint shake of her head, she took an awkward step backward. "I suppose we might as well get this over with."
Swooping down, he pressed a swift kiss to her not-quite-steady lips.
"Stay behind me, and if you sense anything, let me know," he whispered against her mouth.
She swallowed heavily as he pulled back. "I promise you'll be the first to hear my scream."
"Right."
Keeping her fingers laced tightly in his, Dante moved directly toward the thicket of trees. Behind him Abby stumbled and occasionally cursed at the underbrush, but she managed to keep up with his smooth stride. Within a quarter of an hour, they at last stepped into a clearing.
Directly in the center was a plain three-story brick structure with several wooden outbuildings. There was nothing about it to suggest that it was anything other than a farmhouse. In fact, it was rather depressingly normal.
Precisely what the witches would desire.
Unlike vampires, they had no ability to disguise themselves from curious eyes. They were forced to hide in plain sight.