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He sat up straighter when he heard the witch’s footsteps coming down the stairs. Moments later, she was standing outside his cell, a familiar goblet in one hand, her favorite dagger in the other.
“So soon?” he asked. “You’re still looking good.”
“How nice of you to say so,” she said dryly. “But I can feel it wearing off, and I’d prefer to have some on hand as soon as I need it. Besides, orders were piling up while I was away.” She moved to the left side of the cage and knelt down. “Hold out your arm.”
Chains rattling, he did as bidden, then watched impassively as she jabbed the silver-bladed dagger into the large vein in his wrist. Blood flowed freely from the wound, quickly filling the jewel-encrusted cup.
When she withdrew the blade, the wound closed. “There,” she said, “that should last a while.”
Gideon met her satisfied gaze. The silver and the bloodletting weakened him physically, but he still had enough power to compel mortals. And, witch or not, Verah was mortal. It took only moments to implant a suggestion in her mind, and then he looked away.
Brow furrowed, the witch stared into the cup. She dipped her finger into the dark red fluid, then licked it off. “You know,” she said, “the next time I need to drink your blood, I think I’ll take it right from the source.”
Gideon slid his arm between the bars, palm up. “Why wait? If you drink it while it’s warm and fresh, it’ll taste better and the effects will last longer.”
She tilted her head to one side, as if considering his words, then reached for his arm. As if moving in slow motion, she dragged the dagger across his wrist. She leaned forward, her long blond hair falling over her shoulders, trailing in his blood as she ran her tongue over the shallow gash in his flesh.
Gideon held his breath as she drank deeply. Her hands gripped his forearm, her nails gouged furrows into his skin.
Abruptly, she lifted her head and pushed his arm away. When she tried to stand, he grasped the hem of her skirt.
“Let me go!” She clutched her stomach, a low moan rising in her throat. “What have you done?”
He reached into the pocket of his jeans and withdrew a small brown bottle. “I drank a little poison when the sun went down.”
She stared at him, her eyes wild. “What’s the antidote? Where is it? Give it to me!”
“There isn’t any.”
She sank to her knees, her breathing labored, her skin turning gray. “Help me… .”
Gideon shook his head, his eyes narrowing with revulsion as her years quickly caught up with her. Wrinkles spread across her face, the color faded from her hair, her hands turned skeletal, the skin liberally sprinkled with age spots.
She uttered an anguished cry and then toppled onto her side. Tremors wracked her from head to foot for several minutes, and then she went still.
Still clutching a handful of her skirt, Gideon leaned forward. Was she dead? But no, he could still hear the faint beat of her heart.
She let out an unholy shriek as her body began shriveling, shrinking, until she was as ugly on the outside as she had been on the inside. A last, desperate cry, and the life drained out of her.
Gideon stared at her a moment longer, his brow furrowing as her body disintegrated into dust.
Damn. He had never seen anything like that before. She really was old. Well, there was one good thing about it, he mused. He wouldn’t have to worry about disposing of the body. Dragging her skirt into the cell, he withdrew the silver key from the pocket, cursing as it scorched his palm, but it was a small price to pay for his freedom.
Moments later, the shackles lay on the floor.
Dissolving into mist, he left the basement. Resuming his own form, he went in search of Verah’s wand. He found it on a table in what he surmised was the room where she worked her magic. Her familiar was curled up on a high stool beside the table. The black cat sprang to its feet, back arched, teeth bared, when Gideon reached for the wand.
“You’re out of a job.” Gideon jerked his thumb toward the door. “Get lost.”
The cat stared at him, unblinking, then jumped off the stool and ran out of the room.
Gideon stared at the wand. It was just a piece of wood, perhaps sixteen inches long, yet he was reluctant to touch it. Still, a promise was a promise, and he had promised this wand to another witch.
He glanced around, looking for something to wrap it in. He settled on a scrap of toweling, felt a ripple of supernatural power when he picked up the wand. He quickly wrapped it in the towel and left the house.
A thought took him to his lair in New York. A tingling on his skin told him it was only minutes until sunrise.
Going into the bathroom, he stripped off his jeans. One good thing about being a vampire, his wounds healed quickly, even those made by silver. He took a hot shower, wishing all the while that Kay was with him. Closing his eyes, he imagined her hands moving over his shoulders and back, sliding lower, lower …
Shaking off his lustful thoughts, he stepped out of the shower, dried off, and stretched out on the bed. Lying there, his arms folded behind his head, he made a mental list of things to do when he rose on the morrow. First, he would call a florist and order five dozen roses for Kusuma Ila. Second, he would box up Verah’s wand and arrange to have it delivered to her, payment in full for services rendered. And third, he would get in touch with Kay.
Closing his eyes, he summoned her image to mind, focused on it while the darkness wrapped its arms around him and dragged him down into oblivion.
Kiya?
At the sound of Gideon’s voice, Kay glanced up from the book she was reading.
Gideon! How are you? Where are you? I haven’t heard from you in days. I’ve been so worried.
I’m fine. I’m in New York. Are you still at your father’s?
Yes. Kay looked over at her mother, who was asleep on the sofa.
Can you get out of the house?
I don’t know. I’ll try, but there’s always someone watching me. Where did you go?
I went to Verah’s. You can stop worrying about her. She won’t be coming after you again.
She’s dead?
Definitely dead.
You killed her. It wasn’t a question.
I had a little help. Remember that witch in Apache Junction? She concocted a poison cocktail.
How did you get Verah to drink it?
Gideon chuckled. I drank it, and when she drank from me …
It killed her. Kay shook her head. It was brilliant.
As soon as you get away, let me know, and I’ll be there.
I will. Gideon? I love you. If only she could invite Gideon into the compound, getting away would be so much easier. But her father had rescinded Gideon’s invitation, which superseded any invite Kay or anyone else might issue.
