Page 17 of Quintus

“There’s someone I know. She’s uh…she’s in trouble. I’m helping her with something. And before you ask, she’s got nothin’ to do with New Orleans. Or your witch. I was only gone for a few minutes. Gabby was fine. It’s not like I’ve got to watch her put the spoon in her mouth.”

“Gabriella.”

“Gabby,” he challenged with a stare, “is well guarded in here. This place is like a fucking prison.”

“She’s vulnerable and in danger. She’s my responsibility.”

“She’s a witch. She’s trouble.”

“She’s mine.” As the words left his lips, Quintus sucked a deep breath at the realization of his connection to her.

“Possessive, brother. You don’t normally become this way with women.”

“It’s her blood. I told you of its power.”

“If you say so. But you know this could be something else.” A corner of his lips raised in a sly smile.

“Don’t say it. Because it’s not so. Her blood incites this attraction. I owe her my life. That is all. I need to make a few calls and then…” Quintus stilled, listening for movement. The deafening silence throughout the house confirmed his fear. “Do you feel it?”

“Your wards…how would she have…” A noise sounded from above and they both looked toward the ceiling.

“My bedroom. She must have picked up some of the power in its wards.”

“Perhaps a spell to hide her heartbeat.”

“No. She’s gone.” Quintus clenched his fists, enraged she’d escaped. His sweet little witch was clever but he’d track her within minutes. Her punishment would be swift and sweet, and in the dark recesses of his mind, he reveled in the chase.

Chapter Four

“I’m so stupid. So fucking stupid.” Gabriella’s thoughts raced as she tore down the sidewalk.

Escaping his home had been a serendipitous surprise. She’d always known of the mystical power that thrived within her blood. She’d toyed with the idea for months, suspecting if her blood could heal, it, too, could destroy. Using her fingernail to prick her wrist, she’d drawn blood and let it drip onto her hands. With her palms on the French doors, she’d released her energy, ripe with jealousy and hate, inciting the destruction. Safety glass shattered into bits onto the balcony. She’d carefully navigated the tiles, and hoisted herself over the railing and down the pole to the street.

Spotting a familiar building in the French Quarter, she took off running and attempted to orient herself. As she rounded the corner, she tripped over a broken brick in the sidewalk and tumbled to the ground. Her hands scraped the pavement, its rough texture shredding her palms. Waves of shock and pain rolled through her as she shoved to her feet. She struggled to run, smearing her bloodied palms across her shirt.

Gabriella gasped for breath, clinging to the stitch in her side. Where am I? She ducked into an alleyway. With her back against the cold brick wall, she doubled over and heaved for breath. She lifted her gaze and spied the old apothecary. Two more blocks and she’d be at her hotel.

Self-doubt threaded through her mind, tears filling her eyes. Finding Quintus with the blood whore had been like a knife to her gut. Even after he’d callously left her in the bedroom, she’d thought he’d been interested in her. It wasn’t rational, she knew. A man like him probably enjoyed a different woman every night, but there was just something about his erotic touch that woke her heart. Lying in his arms, his lips on hers, the embers of arousal had been stoked. With the exception of a one night stand here and there, she’d never indulged in carnal desires. On the run, she couldn’t afford to get attached to anyone.

He’s a vampire. What were you thinking? She blew out a breath and wiped the tears from her eyes. Regret boiled in her stomach. Impulsive and fueled by jealousy, she’d escaped with no plan. Logic told her she should have stayed but seeing him with the donor pushed her over the edge. I shouldn’t have left. He’s the only one who can help me. She’d never be safe unless they worked together to destroy the coven.

It’s going to be okay. Just keep moving, she told herself. She’d collect her meager belongings, deliver blood to Ramiel, and return to Quintus. If she was lucky, she’d escape New Orleans before the coven arrived.

The wind whistled, and she raised her face to the dark sky. An icy raindrop stung her forehead, and she wiped it away with her hand. Thunder rumbled in the distance and she took off running towards her home.

Gabriella stepped out of the shower and screamed as a cockroach the size of a small dog scurried across the room. She loathed this dump, but the seedy hotel studio apartment, tucked into the corner of a courtyard, had been the best she’d been able to afford. Gabriella had given up dreams of a normal life long ago. This was the reality she’d come to accept.

She quickly dried herself with a towel and stepped into her panties. Gabriella snapped on a bra and slung a black t-shirt over her head and reached for her jeans. With a glance to the clock, she realized she’d been gone for at least twenty minutes and she suspected Quintus would come looking for her.

Reaching for her drawstring backpack, she tugged it open. Her chest tightened in a sentimental knot as she looked to her desk. Scattered spells on shreds of cocktail napkins littered its surface. A brass locket lay curled at the base of a lamp. She brushed her fingers over its embossed surface. As she’d done a hundred times, she picked open the brass heart with her fingernail, revealing the picture of her mother and father. They sat on the sea rocks, her mother smiling as her father placed a kiss to her cheek. When she’d been ten, it had been a secret gift. No one could see it or know the truth. Mama always told her she wanted her to remember the love from which she’d been created.

Gabriella closed it and brought it to her lips. Too afraid she’d lose the memory, she slipped it into an inside pocket and zipped it shut. Gabriella reached for her spell book and stuffed the torn papers inside it. Old and new spells, they all served a purpose. One to levitate objects. One to bring love to a friend. One to change the color of her hair. Although she didn’t know how to use each one, she’d collected them like memories, with the possibility that someday she’d learn to perfect her imperfect craft.

Gabriella’s power waned as the full moon approached, her beast demanding to shift and renew her magick. After gathering one last scrap of paper, she reached for the small stuffed animal she’d been carrying around since she was five years old. The tattered kitten was the closest thing she’d ever allowed herself to have as a pet. Although the high priestess was bestowed a companion, it was forbidden for others to own or communicate with animals.

Gabriella tossed the childhood toy into her bag along with her wallet and cell phone, and cinched it shut. She considered taking clothes but didn’t have time to start packing her things. If she had to wash her underwear in the bathroom for the next week she was prepared for what she had to do.

Time had run out. Thunder rumbled outside, and she startled. The southern storms often grew violent, but as the familiar sound of hail pinging the roof began, she grabbed her hoodie and headed toward the door. As she flung it open, her breath caught at the sight of the dominant vampire, his dark brown eyes penetrating hers.