The Mark (Interracial Paranormal Romance) (Toil and Trouble) (13 page)

The North Carolina Art Museum was a gem in the heart of Raleigh. From pottery found in the catacombs of Egypt to contemporary photography, the art leapt from the walls and seeped into your soul.

Even tonight, in the company of a dozen things that went bump in the night, I stood draped on a velvet rope near the back, staring at a surrealist painting by a local artist. I was trying my best to blot out images of Jack and his maker, as mates, doing the deed, slaughtering thousands...but Athanasia Daneryous was doing a hell of a job, her details as colorful as the ones that hung on the wall.

"It feels like yesterday," she cooed with a dramatic sigh. "You should have seen him, necromancer. He was a true healer with a heart of gold. And so lost, so heartbroken."

Jack slid back up to us, cosmo for me, blood cocktail for himself and Athanasia.

She sipped her cocktail, running her tongue over her lush lips. "What was the name of that quaint little village you lived in, Jacques? And your woman?"

Jack threw back his drink with one hurried movement. He placed a strong, sure hand on the small of my back. "What brings you stateside, Ana?"

"Well I haven't seen my little ones in hundreds of years," she said with a small smile. “And when I heard you were dating a Moor necromancer-”

"Bullshit," Darius snapped, walking up to join us. He'd swapped his mummy-esque ensemble for a crisp black oxford shirt, jeans, and sneak. I shuddered, thinking about some poor frat boy lying stark naked in the alley, missing a substantial amount of blood.

Ana turned to Darius, brushing her pale hand over his cheek. "You always had such fire, love. Ungrateful of the gift I gave, but the fire kept me from snapping your head from your body and feasting on your entrails."

"So we're gonna mingle," Jack cut in, steering us away from the line of fire. "I'll let you two catch up."

Darius flashed us a snarl, but we were already on our way, headed toward a burly man that stood brooding in the corner. He was more of a boulder, strong and unmoving than a person. I immediately thought of Jack and the Beanstalk and him grinding bones to make bread.

"The things she must have seen..."I sighed. "One of the Old Ones." I'd read about the creators of the monsters-ancient, powerful beings, but I never thought I’d see one with my own eyes. My mother was gonna flip.

"Maybe you should fangirl some other time," Jack said, his face like chiseled stone. "We're here to find who's setting you up, are we not?"

"Of course," I said, embarrassed that he’d caught me off task. I cocked my head at the man in the corner. "That your guy?"

He nodded. "Wait here."

I watched as Jack approached him, hands up like he meant no harm. They chatted for a moment then Jack turned back to me and gave me the okay.

I walked over, flashing the guy the brightest smile I could manage. He was saving my ass, after all. "Hi, I'm-"

"I know who you are, doll," he rumbled. His voice was like sandpaper, gravel on my eardrums.

Jack reached into his lapel and pulled out a tiny vial with red liquid. I grabbed his wrist, my heart lurching to my throat. "My god, Jack, that's not-"

He gently moved my hand. His voice was steady and sure. "It's the payment Barius requires, Jade."

I swallowed hard. If the Watchers found out that Jack was passing around his blood for personal gain, they'd stake him quicker than a blink of an eye. I couldn't believe he would risk his life for mine. If I was wondering where his true intentions lie, it was crystal clear now.

"So what information do you have for us?" Jack probed.

We both stepped in closer. The boulder of a man ran a hand through his shaggy black hair, revealing a bright eye in the center of his forehead.

Stay on task
, I thought to myself. "So a high level supe. Who?"

He shrugged his broad shoulders. "That's all I got, sweetheart."

I glanced at Jack who either had a killer poker face or didn't hear what was just said. "A vial of-" Lower. "-Vampire blood is worth more than something deadly obvious."

The cyclops' pinched face was becoming as red as a roma tomato. “Look necro, if you’re unpleased-”

"Stay in touch," Jack said with an apologetic smile, steering me toward the buffet table. "You trying to get me killed?"

"What?"

"All of your reading and you skipped the part where cyclopses snack on humans and supernaturals alike?"

"Whatever," I said hotly, scooping my cup into the bowl absentmindedly. "For one, you didn't tell me you were giving up blood for information."

"My blood. Mine to do with as I wish." He gestured at my drink. "Maybe you should-"

"I mean what did he tell us that we didn't already know? If The Watchers find out…" I snapped my mouth shut and threw the drink down my throat. Big mistake. I was no stranger to blood, mind you. When I was first anointed as a necromancer, I had to drink the blood of the first ghost I summoned. If I'm trying to summon a reluctant spirit, a little blood magic does the trick. But those were always a couple of tablespoons, chased with a hefty glass of water. I'd just swallowed at least a cup and it was warm and alive as it slid down my throat.

I doubled over, dry heaving. Naturally, the vampire clique near the Da Vinci had a laugh at my expense.

"Never would have pegged you as an O negative fan, necro," Darius said with a chuckle clapping me on the shoulder.

I turned toward him, embarrassment and anger coloring my face. I could have stayed at home in bed and had an equally productive night.

Darius reached out and swiped a bit of blood from my chin, suckling his finger. "I think the tang of necro really makes it pop."

"I could put the insides of your body on your outside, fanger," I said hotly, clutching my pentagram.

Darius let out a melodic laugh, his dark eyes twinkling mischievously. "That would be positively delicious! I hope I'd be on the mend so I could hear the charge of using magic against an unarmed supernatural tacked on to the murder of several mortals and exposing the supernatural world."

My eyes went wide. "How did you-"

Darius licked his lips. "Everyone loves a good witch Trial."

Consequences be damned, I was gonna wipe the self-satisfied smirk from his face. "Ego ver mmph!" Jack covered my mouth with his hand, jerking me toward the exit.

"Give Athanasia my regards," he said over his shoulder. Once we were out of the building, I sunk my teeth deep into his palm.

He removed it promptly, but kept his arm around my shoulder. "I thought you had your fill of blood for the evening."

I extricated myself, blowing steam from my nose. "Laugh it up, Jack. It's not like my life hangs in the balance or anything."

"Barius will keep an eye out for us," Jack squeezed my shoulder. "Just relax."

"Relax?" I repeated. "Relax?! What don't you get about my Trial happening any minute now? What's not clicking about the huge risk you took by swapping your blood as payment for ZERO information?!?"

Jack stopped, his eyes cold. "I know it's been awhile, but if I remember correctly, it’s customary for people to be grateful when someone sticks their neck out for them."

I continued toward the car, my kitten heels crunching on the gravel. "Gratitude isn't the point, Jack. The point is-"

"Shut up!" he thundered, turning and looking around in the darkness. The world around us was dead silent...not even a zip of a car on Blue Ridge road.

Usually I'd give him an earful about how a simple "could you please lower your voice?" would have done the trick, but something about the way his green eyes darted back and forth and the snarl on his lips told me now wasn't the time for a lesson in manners. There was someone, something in the dark.

I swallowed, clutching my pentacle as a howl erupted right next to me. Before I even blinked, Jack was on the assailant. I heard a series of snaps and yelps as they went at it. I backed up to the car and with trembling lips muttered an illumination spell.

A dull glow emanated from the frenzied mass in front of me. Jack was feral, his face wild as he tussled with a dog. No, not a dog...it was two big, too agile.

"Were," I whispered, my pulse racing faster than the speed of light. I saw the thing take hold of Jack's shoulder and sink his teeth deep in the cartilage. Jack said a few curse words in a foreign language then lunged back into the fight.

I dumped the contents of my purse onto the grass beside me, shining the light from my pentagram on the mess. If I could find my emerga-kit I could maybe at least distract the were so Jack could get the upper hand.

I gasped as a pair of blood red stilettos stopped in front of me. Athanasia.

"Don't even think about it, necromancer."

"Thank god," I breathed exhaustedly. "You have to help-" A shrill whistle cut through my pleas. A whistle that came from Athanasia's lips. The were gave Jack one last nip then pulled back. Jack wasn't done though- he grabbed the thing's broad snout and pried open its mouth.

"JACQUES!" Athanasia thundered, her voice rattling the ground we stood on. "Enough."

With a frustrated growl, Jack pulled back, his eyes full of quiet fury.

"Werewolves," Athanasia said with an eye roll. "I told you to separate the Moor girl from Jacques, did I not? I gave no instructions to engage my progeny."

The were snapped his snout, shaking his fur with irritation.

"You're behind this?" I said with disbelief. "What's going on here?" I shielded my eyes as the were changed back to human form, his muscular skin glimmering in the moonlight. He bowed his head to Athanasia then took a knee as someone stepped out of the dark. Someone I never thought I'd see again.

"Holy crap," I whispered. "Riley?"

Before I could wipe my eyes or pinch myself, everything went black.

Chapter Seventeen

Blast From the Past

There was that taste again. Thick, coppery sliminess that made my stomach lurch. At least it was my own.

My eyes fluttered open. I was in a bedroom. A nice one actually. Picasso hung on the walls. A poster bed sat in the middle, covered in expensive comforter and pillows. The window coverings were a deep mahogany, the early morning rays filtering in and making everything glitter and shine. Hell, even the chair I was tied to was ornate, my hands wrapped around mahogany rests.

Someone was smart. My purse was nowhere to be found and a nice thick layer of duct tape kept me from reciting or screaming my head off. And boy did I want to scream--I was pretty sure I was bleeding from when Athanasia punched me in the head, I had no idea where I was or what that bitch was doing to Jack, and then there was blast from my past. Riley Carpenter.

Almost on cue, the door to the bedroom crept open and he breezed in. He still had the same cocky jaunt, his hard, firm body confidently moving across the room. The last time I saw him he wore his dark, black hair long, falling past his shoulders. It was short now, military style. It accentuated his strong, attractive face.

"Sorry about Quentin," Riley continued. "A vamp turned some girl he was screwing so he kind of loses his shit around their kind."

Silence.

"Oh and I'm sorry about-" he gestured at my binds. "All of this. To be fair, you did tell me if you ever saw me again you'd transfigure my balls onto my face."

More silence.

"I'll gladly take the duct tape off if you promise to not cast any spells on me or my pack until you hear my proposition." I was considering agreeing then transfiguring him anyway, but there was something in his eyes that gave me pause. Something desperate.