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"Of course," Roshan said, "if that's what Brenna wishes."
"Maybe for just a little while," Brenna said.
"It's settled then," Myra said, beaming. "I'll just go open up the shop and see you there." She gave Brenna's hand a squeeze and hurried out of the church.
"There's something about that one," Fonti said. "She is not one of us, but she has powers. Could she be a witch?"
"A witch!" Brenna exclaimed. "Do you think so?"
Fonti nodded. "Her aura is similar to yours, though not so strong."
Brenna frowned. Was Myra a witch? If so, why hadn't she ever mentioned it? And then, realizing what Fonti had said, she looked at him askance. "You think my powers are stronger than hers?"
Fonti nodded again, then looked at Roshan, a hint of deviltry in his eyes. "Be careful of this one."
Roshan laughed softly. "I have felt her power on more than one occasion."
After saying their farewells, Roshan and Brenna left the church. Excitement thrummed through Brenna as she thought of what lay ahead. They would spend a short time with Myra and then they would go home. She could hardly wait to be in Roshan's arms again. It would not be like the last time, she thought, though that had been wonderful. But this time she would be his wife, with every right to be in his bed, in his arms.
"Wife," she murmured. "What a lovely word!"
Myra was waiting for them at the door when they arrived at the shop. "Come in," she said, stepping aside. "I hope you don't mind, but a few of the girls who work for me were closing up when I got back. They wanted to stay and wish you congratulations."
Brenna glanced at Roshan. "No, I do not mind."
Myra closed and locked the door and turned the sign so that it read "closed," then led them through the bookstore and into the coffee shop. Several women, none of whom Brenna recognized, were talking in low tones when they entered. A small wedding cake sat on a cloth-covered table, along with two bottles of champagne. The women all stopped talking when Brenna and Roshan followed Myra into the room.
"Well, here we are," said Myra. "Ladies, may I present Roshan and Brenna DeLongpre."
Brenna felt suddenly uneasy amid the greetings and good wishes. Something wasn't right. She looked up at Roshan, wondering if he sensed it, too.
There was a loud pop as Myra opened a bottle of champagne. She filled several crystal glasses and passed them around. The ones she handed to Brenna and Roshan had pretty pink bows tied around the delicate stems.
"A toast to the bride and groom," Myra said. "May all your dreams come true."
Brenna hesitated but then, seeing that the others were drinking, she sipped her champagne. The bubbles tickled her nose. She noticed that Roshan did not drink from his glass, but that was not surprising. What was surprising was that no one asked him why he wasn't drinking.
After the toast, Myra cut the cake and passed it around. Roshan refused with a smile, telling Myra that he was allergic to white flour.
Feeling suddenly unsteady, Brenna looked up at him.
She blinked, trying to bring his face into focus. The lights suddenly seemed brighter, the voices around her louder. She reached for Roshan, who seemed to be getting smaller and smaller and then, without warning, everything went black.
Roshan caught her before she hit the floor.
"Oh, my!" Myra exclaimed, one hand pressed to her heart. "I think she's fainted. Poor dear," Myra added sympathetically. "Probably too much excitement for one night."
Roshan stared at Brenna. Her face was pale, her skin overly hot. Her pulse was beating rapidly. He detected a strange, sickly sweet aroma on her breath. Had she been drugged?
Before he could question Myra, he sensed a ripple in the air, a stir of supernatural power. Too late, he realized someone had come up behind him. A hot burning sensation engulfed him as someone wrapped a thick silver chain around his neck and yanked it tight. Pain shot through him and he reeled backward.
Darting forward, Myra pulled Brenna out of his arms.
Freed of his burden, Roshan was about to wheel around and see who was behind him when another chain circled his middle, pinning his arms to his sides. With a low growl of rage, he swung around and came face-to-face with Anthony Loken.
The warlock bared his teeth in a feral smile as he tossed a small bucket of holy water in Roshan's face. The drops penetrated Roshan's clothing, sizzled over his skin, raising huge red blisters everywhere they touched. A few drops splashed into his eyes, blinding him.
"Got him!" Loken crowed, and with the help of one of the girls, he wrapped several more lengths of thick silver chain around Roshan's body and legs.
Unable to see, no longer able to stand, Roshan dropped heavily to the floor with Brenna's name on his lips.
CHAPTER 23
Anthony Loken looked at Myra, his smile victorious. "Got him!"
"And her," Myra said, a faint note of regret in her voice. "I hope you don't have to kill her, Tony. I've grown rather fond of her."
"How did you know she was a witch?" he asked. "I've been with her several times and never guessed." He had never suspected DeLongpre of being a genuine vampire, either, but he saw no need to let Myra know. It galled him that her magick was stronger than his, though his expertise in the Dark Arts was growing rapidly. The fact that she was the leader of their coven was equally irksome. But once he had achieved his goal, all that would change. He would have powers far beyond hers.
"They both veil what they are very well," Myra remarked, glancing down at the vampire, "but then, I'm older and stronger in the craft than you are. Be careful with the vampire," she warned sharply. "Don't turn your back on him. I'm not sure what he's capable of."
"Don't worry."
"Do you really think you can create this magic elixir that will allow us to live forever?"
"I'm sure of it. Carry the girl out to my car, will you? Serafina, go and open the trunk."
Myra paused in the doorway, looking up and down the street before she carried Brenna out to Loken's car and deposited her on the front seat.
Serafina opened the trunk and Anthony dropped Roshan, none too gently, inside. He stared down at the vampire a moment, noting the ugly red blisters on his face and hands, the bright red welts that appeared wherever the silver touched his skin. So long as the vampire was bound with silver chains and periodically doused with holy water, he would remain as weak and helpless as a newborn babe. Sort of like Superman when he was exposed to kryptonite.
