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The metal door at the top was open and the room beyond filled with shadows. The black glass desk that usually dominated the rear portion of the room had been replaced by black marble shot with deep purple that matched the two plush-looking chairs in front of it and the one behind.
Maelle stood near the glass panel with her back to the door, but turned as I entered. She had a liking for wearing Regency-style clothing, though from what I could glean, she was far older than that era. Tonight, it was a deep red riding habit with a white lace, high-collar undershirt. Her rich chestnut hair had been plaited and curled around the top of her head and once again looked crown-like. Her skin was porcelain smooth, and her lips ruby red. Lipstick wasnotresponsible for that color; it was an indicator that she’d recently fed.
Which was a relief, given her amused response to my warning about taking a sip. She’d always been rather determined to taste the power in my blood, and I doubted that had changed any, especially after she’d witnessed just what I was capable of when she’d helped me rescue Belle from Clayton.
“Do you wish for a drink? Tea, or perhaps something stronger?” Her voice held a soft French accent that hinted of her origins, though I suspected she’d been in Australia for more than a few decades now.
“No, but thank you.” It never hurt to be polite when you were dealing with a very old vampire who had a penchant for dancing through the remains of her victims.
“Then what can I do for you, Elizabeth Grace?”
There was something in her expression—a soft gleam of amusement in eyes so pale there was only the slightest variation between her gray irises and sclera—that suggested she was well aware why I was here.
“I sensed evil tonight—”
“I hope you are not implying it is me.”
The amusement was stronger, but tension nevertheless slithered through me. “Of course not. I came here because that evil ran with darker magic—”
“And it led you here.”
“In a sense, yes.”
She raised an eyebrow, the movement elegant. “In a sense?”
“What I’m sensing is not the magic you’re using to build this place.” I waved a hand around to indicate our surroundings. “But it does have a similar feel.”
“The magic that arises from the fuel of blood—be it from the witch’s own veins or that of others—often has a similar feel. It is the inescapable nature of such spells.”
“Yes, but the similarity runs deeper than that.”
She studied me for a moment, then motioned eloquently toward one of the plush chairs. “Please, sit. We two are well beyond the formality of standing in each other’s presence.”
I generally preferred to stand, because it made running easier if things went wrong, but it hadn’t been a request, no matter how politely it had been said. I obeyed.
She pulled out her chair and sat down, her legs crossed and her fingers interlaced. She looked as relaxed as she ever did, and yet I could feel the tension in her. It fairly crackled around her body.
“What similarities do you sense?”
Instinct prickled again. She knew—or at the very least, suspected—who or what was out there, and that might mean the evil I sensed was another magic-capable vampire. It would be extremely unusual, though, because as a general rule, they didnotlike to share territories.
But if another vampire was out there, why wasn’t she dealing with them? The vow of no harm wouldn’t stop her—not when the presence of another vampire likely boded no good for the reservation’s inhabitants. Besides, her actions with Clayton showed just how easily her vow could be skirted.
I hesitated, searching for the words to explain what instinct was perceiving. “It comes down to what is basically biological inheritance. In witch families, we not only inherit certain DNA traits from our parents, but also a similar magical resonance, even if there are vast variations in strength and capabilities between siblings. What I’m sensing out there has a resonance that echoes your magic.”
“My bloodline died out a very long time ago.”
It was calmly said, but the tension in her ramped up. It crawled across my senses, causing tiny sparks of energy to leap across my fingers—an automatic response I was incapable of fully controlling when confronted by the truly scary. “I wasn’t talking about any relatives that might be alive today, Maelle.”
Her answering smile was cool, but the awareness in her eyes sharpened. A response more to the sparks than my accelerated heart rate, I suspected. “And has this evil you sense done anything to attract your attention?”
“Not yet.”
“Then why do you hunt it?”
“Because I’d really prefer to stop it before harm is caused.” I studied her warily for several seconds. “You know—or suspect—who it is, don’t you?”
A small smile tugged at her lips. “Yes.”
