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I turn, looking out the window as he parks, my cheeks still hot with embarrassment at being caught thinking of him in that way.
His voice pulls me back into the moment and the business at hand. “You know what I want from the witches? The names of the vampires who betrayed us. Do you know the names of the traitors? It would save us the time of going through the other witches.”
I gesture to the entrance of Torelli’s, biding my time, still unsure whether to divulge what I know about the vampires. “You’ll find the witches inside the club. They should be able to tell you exactly who betrayed you. Please, I don’t want to be on the bad side of any witch or vampire. Can you understand that?”
He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t tell me no either. His eyes search mine, though. “And the traitor vampires, the syndicate? What do you know? How do they play into this, Willow?”
“I don’t know exactly. I’ve heard whispers about men at the top who want the vampires gone so they can control the streets again. Isala was luring the witches and shifters away from their own by promising them a new tomorrow where she and they would hold all the power. It sounded as though some of the soldiers who call themselves the warriors are involved, but I don’t know any names.”
Campania clears his throat. “The witches and shifters weren’t the only ones who lost people to her. We had traitors among us who went with her too. More than I’d like to admit. She’s gone now, put into the ground for her betrayal, but there are more like her that we have to find.”
A sudden tap on the window causes me to jump. Raven looks through the window, smiling as Romano towers beside her. Campania rolls down the window with a press of a button and leans toward me to talk to them. “The others should be here momentarily. We’ll most likely encounter syndicate, shifters, and the witches we’re after. If they’ve congregated together, I don’t think they’ll get taken without a fight. If you have to make a choice, go after the witches. That’s the mission—get the witches who defected from Devora and are voluntarily working with the rogues. If we can’t get the truth from them, Devora can.”
My heart beats faster and faster, the blood coursing through my veins at unprecedented speed as I digest what the vampire master is saying. The head witch agreeing to something like this— against her own witches, traitors or not—is unheard of. It simply can’t be true. Why would Devora do such a thing? Surely the witches could simply be banned from the coven, a spell cast to send them to the dark ages or something other than playing in the sandbox with the vampires who she teaches us to hate. Unless she’s up to something; not unusual for her in the least.
Campania gestures toward the window as three more vampires join the group outside. The ones who took my sisters bound and gagged to some warehouse probably in the middle of nowhere. I suck in a deep breath, having no choice but to believe what Campania tells me is true. They are being well cared for… I let that settle my nerves as he gets out of the car, walks around, and opens my door, extending a hand to assist me out and over the puddle on the street and onto the curb.
Another group walks around the corner. I would recognize Overmaster Descallia anywhere after all the pictures I’ve seen of him on the screens of the academy classrooms over the years. The glowing crystalline green eyes of the woman next to him can only be from one woman, Lucianna. The one rumored to be Overmaster Descallia’s mate who the rogue vampires drove a stake through and killed so many centuries ago, only recently reincarnated to join her mate.
Campania takes me by the arm as the others begin walking toward the club entrance. “Stay close to me. I don’t expect you to fight on our behalf, only to help us find the witches.”
I nod, but fear almost paralyzes me as the sound of dark wings flap in the night, and the smell of vampires fill the air. “Just a precaution,” Campania says. “They’ll stand guard in case they’re needed, nothing more.”
It takes effort to keep walking, even with the strength of him by my side and his assurances, the pictures of flocks of vampires descending over witches’ covens years and years ago flood my mind. So many images of this very same thing happening, but in all of them they were coming after the witches. And isn’t that what we’re here to do, find witches, my sisters, regardless of what they’ve done? My mind swirls with the betrayal and the situation Devora has placed me in.
He pulls me close before we get to the door. “Do not believe all the head witches have taught you about the vampires, Willow. The witches have never been our targets, but the vampires will defend themselves and their position in the world when attacked. Stay close to me, and you will be fine.”
My heart throbs so loudly that I’m positive they can hear every erratic beat. Campania tilts my chin so that I have no option but to look into the deep dark eyes that are tinged with red. “Okay?”
I nod, almost too numb with fear of the vampires swarming around us to do anything else. His hand slides to my lower back, guiding me as we enter the nightclub, the rhythmic beat of the music thrumming throughout the club.
The cackling of witches cuts through the sounds of the bustling nightclub. I scan the room looking for the traitors who have brought all this heartache to my door, but it’s far too late to take them by surprise. I should have known just like I did, just like every witch in the world, they’d smell the vampires coming a mile away.
Because they were ready for us…
The room swirls in a flood of activity as six witches fly through the air, their skirts midair as they lower themselves on their brooms, bee lining toward us at record speed.
Chapter9
Campania
Even before thecackling starts and the room erupts with pandemonium, every vampire in the room is on high alert. Their intense sense of smell alerting them to the impending danger of the witches who are always trying to cast one spell or another. More of an annoyance since most spells can be reversed, but still, nothing to disregard as insignificant if you’re the one caught in the evil bitch’s spell.
Willow’s heart pounds with fear, the blood pumping through her body at a dangerous speed. I step in front of her, shielding her from the onslaught of angry witches heading our way. Raven stands by Romano’s side, ready to do battle on our behalf against the broom-riding biddies, constantly trying to prove her allegiance to the vampires. While her spells may have helped us save time and the annoyance of minor spells cast by Willow and her friends, these witches are working for the rogues who intend to send us to the depths of hell if given a chance. An opportunity that I do not, by any means, intend to allow.
The humans have long since vacated the club, either sensing the underworld clash or when the shifters and witches took over the club. No matter the reason, or when, as long as they are not in harm’s way. The rest, the ones who stand together in this club with weapons drawn against the vampires, will not live to see another day.
The shifters sit at tables around the club, watching with smiles on their drooling faces, probably intending to see a good show of the witches besting the vampires. They should know better than to believe the stories the witches have spread. While they may do their best to annoy us and keep us at bay, magic or not, they are no match for a pureblood vampire who will win a battle hands down, on any given day.
I let the witches get closer before sending a searing stream of fire toward them, not forceful enough to burn them alive but strong enough to hold them back. The fire causes mass pandemonium from the shifters who weren’t prepared for that and begin to attack.
Clay, Terrence, and Romano go head-to-head with the mangy wolves, swords and small daggers wielded against gnashing teeth and claws intended to tear flesh to the bone as each group fights for control. The shifters should know they are no match for the vampires. The battles over the centuries should serve as proof of that, but still, they do their best to draw blood from their foe.
The witches are surrounded by a never-ending ring of fire, one they already know they can’t get through. If the witch’s academy taught them anything, it should have been not to attack the vampires without a complex plan in place to overpower us and drive a wooden stake deep into our hearts, but still the danger of annoying spells they can cast exists. Aggravation that none of us have time to deal with today. “Raven, your magic!” I tell her, but her wand is already out. She’s quietly chanting against the angry glares of the witches we’ve managed to corral in the air.
Raven finishes her spell, and with two waves of her wand the screeching of the irate witches ends with a sudden eerie quiet. A sixth sense tells me that this match is far from over, though, my keen sense of smell alerting me to the far side of the club, where seven pairs of yellow eyes from the mangy shifter bastards begin to glow.
I step in front of Willow. “Stay behind me.” I ready my sword for a heated battle with the shifters. They’ll be sorry they ever started working for the rogue vampires who’ve been trying to drive us into the ground for as many centuries as I can count. They growl and paw the tiled floor of the club, seemingly ready to enter a battle they will not win.
