Bittersweet Magic

Chapter Eight

Piers tossed her in the back seat and climbed in beside Christian.

“Everything okay?” Christian asked.

“Oh, yeah.” He could feel the buzz of her blood in his system. So sweet. So powerful. His little nun was addictive stuff; he might have to keep her around for a while. At least until he’d gotten to the bottom of whatever it was she was up to.

He peered over his shoulders as Christian pulled onto the road. In the light from the street lamps, he could see her clearly. Her hands gripped the front of her dress, and his cock twitched as he remembered the bounty hidden beneath the heavy, shapeless robes. She was all woman, with full breasts and a tiny waist above the curve of her generous hips. And she was so responsive. He could still scent the perfume of her arousal on the air.

What sort of nun wore black lace underwear?

He was looking forward to finding out.

As though she could sense his regard, her lashes flickered open, and she caught his gaze. She blinked a couple of times, then closed her eyes again and turned her face away.

He stifled a yawn. It was three in the morning. Dawn came early at this time of year, and while he no longer had to sleep through the daylight hours, he functioned better if he did. And he needed to function to the best of his abilities if he was going to get the better of Andarta for a second time. The first time he had tricked her, taken her by surprise. She’d known he loved her and hadn’t expected treachery from him. Despite what she’d done.

For a brief moment, he considered the possibility of going back to her. Ruling at her side. But there was no way. He was a different person. While he would never under any circumstances consider himself a good man, he’d come to accept that he wasn’t evil either. He’d taken a long time to realize that, but now he had a code of ethics he lived by and lines that he wouldn’t cross.

The truth was, he’d done worse things as a human than he had as a vampire. How many had he sacrificed to appease the gods he now knew to be nothing more than myth and legend?

There were only a couple of hours of nighttime remaining. He’d put the nuns in the cells for the day—they might be more willing to talk freely after a few hours of imprisonment. He also needed to talk to Carl and find out what had gone on with Jack. He’d had a quick call to say that he’d followed him back to the Isle of Dogs, but that the police had staked out the house and Jack had made himself scarce. Piers had told Carl to stay at the house, see if he could get a chance to search the place once the police finished. It was unlikely, but maybe Jack had hidden the Key there. Without the Key, Andarta’s movements would be limited even after she had regained her full power.

They pulled into the parking garage beneath the Order. Christian turned to him, the engine still running. “I’m heading home,” he said. “Will you be okay?”

Piers glanced at him. “What? You think I can’t handle a couple of nuns?”

“I was thinking more of this Jack character.”

“I doubt we’ll see him or hear from him again tonight,” Piers answered. “I’m just going to have a talk with Carl and call it a night.”

“What about those two?” Christian waved a hand to the rear of the car. Piers followed his gaze. Sister Rosa or “Roz” or whatever her name was, was sitting upright now, her eyes wide open, though they narrowed when she caught him watching her. The other sister was slumped with her head on Sister Rosa’s shoulder, her eyes closed.

“We’ll put them somewhere safe tonight and interrogate them tomorrow.” He used the word interrogate on purpose. Hopefully, they would think about it through the long day. It might soften them up for the evening.

The thing was, he couldn’t for the life of him think of what their story could be. How did Sister Rosa fit into all this? Was she a real nun? He was beginning to believe it was doubtful. Though the other was obviously the real thing, and she believed Sister Rosa. He shook his head. No doubt, he would find out tomorrow night.

He climbed out of the vehicle, opened the back door, and reached inside to pull her out. She snatched her arm away. “I can manage.”

Shrugging, he stepped back while she scrambled out, still clutching her robe in front with one hand, her bag with the other. The second sister climbed out behind her.

Christian pulled away and disappeared up the ramp.

“Come on,” Piers said and strode toward the elevators. Once inside, he pressed the button for the second to lowest level, where the cells were situated. His living quarters were on the lowest level, and he briefly contemplated taking her there instead, but he needed time alone to think through what his next move should be. No, she’d be better in the cells for the day.

The level with the cells was not designed to be comforting. Rather, it was supposed to make the occupants contemplate some dire possibilities. The corridor was narrow and bare, except for strip lights along the ceiling.

He cast a glance behind him. She was obviously trying to pretend that she wasn’t intimidated by her surroundings, but her full lower lip was caught between her white teeth, and he could see the flutter of her pulse at her throat where the blood ran close to the surface. The other sister had shrunk in on herself and appeared even smaller, her pale eyes scared. He felt a flicker of something he thought must be guilt. The idea shocked him.

He came to a halt in front of a cell door, pressed his thumb to the lock panel beside it, and the door slid open. “You in here,” he said to Sister Maria.

“Will we be here long?” Roz asked.

He shrugged. “That depends.”

“Keep us together.” When he remained silent, she reached out and rested a hand on his arm. “Please. Can’t you see she’s terrified?”

Yeah, terrified about covered it; her whole body was shaking. He was officially a monster who terrorized nuns. It shouldn’t bother him. But it did. He nodded once, almost ashamed of himself for giving in.

He hustled them both into the cell. It was small, about ten feet by ten feet, a narrow cot the only furniture and toilet facilities through a gap in the wall opposite. They’d have to take turns on the cot. They didn’t do double rooms.

“Bag,” he said.

She clutched it tighter. “Can’t I keep it?”

“Let me see.”

Reluctantly she opened it and showed him the contents. A laptop and a cell phone. She would get no signal down here, so there was no way she could use either to make contact with the outside world, and he shrugged. “Why not.”

He stood looking down at her for a minute. The wound at her neck had closed, but he could still see the mark of his fangs, and his cock twitched at the memory. Soon, he promised himself.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the sex toy and tossed it onto the small cot. “Something to keep you company.”

…

Roz glared at the door as it slid closed behind his retreating back. Dropping her bag onto the small cot, she looked around their accommodation. Hardly five star—the place was grim, but she’d been in worse. Beside her, Maria was staring at the huge pink vibrator on the bed as though she had no clue what it was. Roz reached down and rammed it into her bag. Out of sight, out of mind—she really didn’t want to think about sex right now. Certainly, she didn’t want to think about mind-blowing orgasm number two at the hands, or rather the teeth, of Mr. Sexy Vampire.

She was in trouble. Big trouble.

“Sit down before you fall down,” she said to Maria. The other woman was clearly at the end of her tether, but at least she was still upright and wasn’t screaming.

Maria sank down onto the cot, wringing her hands together. “Thank you.,”

“For what?”

“For asking to stay together. I know I must be a nuisance to you.”

Roz was exploring their new home. It wasn’t much, but at least it had a toilet and a small sink. She ran some water and splashed her face. There was no mirror, but that was hardly surprising. Stroking her fingers down over her throat, she could feel the slightly raised scar where he’d bitten her. Already the wound was closed and healing. Maybe something in the vampire’s saliva? Ugh!

When she returned to the other part of the cell, Maria was in exactly the same position. Roz ignored her for the moment. Perching on the edge of the cot, she pulled her laptop out of her bag. She switched it on and tried her cell phone while it started up. There was no signal, which didn’t surprise her. And no internet reception on the laptop, which was hardly surprising either. He wouldn’t have let her keep them if he’d believed she could reach the outside.

Did he still believe her story? She glanced down at herself. The habit was ripped to the waist.

“Did he hurt you?” Maria’s question broke into her thoughts. She glanced up to see the sister’s gaze on the ripped habit.

“No,” she said. “He didn’t hurt me.”

Maybe she could find out at least some of what he was thinking. She switched the laptop to the monitoring system. While there was no internet signal down here, perhaps the bug would still work. After all, if it was capable of sending a signal out of the building, presumably it could also do so within the walls.

She held her breath waiting. Then it flashed up. “Hurray,” she muttered.

Piers: Graham. There are two nuns in the cells downstairs. I think they might appreciate some coffee. And send Carl in here.

Aw, what a sweetie. Not such a monster after all. I could almost love him for that.

Piers: Okay, so tell me what happened.

Carl: I followed him like you said. He went to a residential area on the Isle of Dogs, but when we got close, it was obvious that the police had beaten us there.

Piers: You saw no sign of the missing girl.

Carl: No. I didn’t go inside the house, but I’m guessing they got her out, either dead or alive, before we arrived.

Piers: And the police are still watching the place?

Carl: Yeah. They left a couple of guys outside. I can go back and try and get around them. Or take them out.

Piers: No, we’ll leave it for now. See if you can find anything about the girl, but otherwise, we’ll wait until Jack contacts us, as I’m sure he will. I’m heading downstairs—I’ll be at my place, but let me know if you hear anything.

Roz stared at the screen for a minute longer, but it remained blank. She slammed the lid down on the laptop. Hopefully, Graham would appear any moment with that coffee. She’d rather he didn’t see what she was up to. Besides, if Piers was heading to his quarters, there was unlikely to be any more activity.

Five minutes later, the door opened and Graham hovered in the entrance. “Sisters?”

He searched for somewhere to put the tray he carried. There was nowhere but the floor and in the end, he bent down and placed it beside the cot.

The scent of fresh coffee drifted up, comforting. There was also a plate of cookies, and she almost smiled at the incongruity of coffee and biscuits in the grim setting.

Graham appeared a little embarrassed. Roz didn’t see why she should attempt to put him at his ease, despite the cookies, and after a minute shuffling from foot to foot, he shrugged apologetically and backed out.

He hesitated in the doorway. “I’ll leave orders you’re to be brought food tomorrow.”

“Well, that will be nice. So at least you don’t intend to starve us, whatever else you intend to do.”

His pale skin flushed. Good. Then he was gone.

Roz sighed, but reached down and poured two coffees, adding cream and sugar to both. She handed one to Maria, put the plate of biscuits between them on the cot, and sat back against the wall with a sigh. As she nibbled on a biscuit and sipped the coffee, some semblance of peace stole over her.

Whatever would happen would happen. It was out of her hands now. In some ways, she found the notion comforting. She needed to decide what she could tell them, but she supposed she should wait and find out what they already knew. At least the whole mesmerizing thing should work in her favor. After all, if he believed her to be in his power, he was also likely to believe whatever she told him.

And if worse came to worse, she could throw in Asmodai’s name. If he really was Christian Roth’s father-in-law, that had to count for something. If she said he was also her…employer? Protector? Whatever…It might put them off killing her quite so quickly. Though Asmodai had told her that if she ever revealed her connection with him he would kill her himself, and she believed him. But Asmodai wasn’t here, and if he wanted to kill her he would have to get in line.

She ate another biscuit.

Through the long day, they dozed, taking it in turns to lie on the cot. As Graham had promised, food was brought at regular intervals. They were relatively comfortable, but the waiting was driving Roz nuts. She’d fastened her robe as best she could. Only about half the buttons remained, but at least she wasn’t flashing her underwear anymore.

As it hit ten o’clock in the evening, she realized the sun would be going down, which presumably meant that the vamps would be waking up. She wished she dared ask Graham, who had turned up with their evening meal—presumably, he worked the night shift. She was sure he knew all about what Piers was, and she was dying to question him, but it would be rather giving the game away.

Christ, she wished someone would come. But when the door finally slid open, it was a stranger who stood there. And he gestured to Maria, not her. Maria cast her a worried glance, but rose slowly and shuffled toward the door. Roz patted her arm as she passed. “Remember what I said—tell them the truth. You’ve nothing to hide.”

Maria nodded and the doors shut behind them, leaving Roz alone.

She hurried across and powered on her laptop—the batteries were getting low. But there was nothing going on in Piers’ office anyway. The screen remained stubbornly blank.

Damn, she wished she had some clue as to what to do.

…

Piers had decided to start with Sister Maria. She was probably going to be easy to break. Not that he intended to break her, but he would get to the truth. He’d asked Jonas, the most powerful warlock employed by the Order, to sit in on the interrogation.

Jonas had the appearance of a frail old man, but Piers was quite aware that that was through personal choice—Jonas was a strong believer that being underestimated gave him an edge. Piers was also aware that the warlock had his own reasons for working with them, but as long as those reasons didn’t go in direct opposition to the requirements of the Order, Piers didn’t care.

Jonas’s particular strengths lay in divining the future and assessing the truth—he could usually tell if people lied—which made him very useful at interrogations. He also did a nifty line in blood charms, which was how he’d come to the attention of the Order. He’d made the charm that had kept Christian’s wife, Tara, safely hidden for more than twenty years.

It was believed that all witches and warlocks had fae blood somewhere in their ancestry, which was what gave them their powers. But unlike his little nun, there was no sweet scent of fae arising from the warlock. It made Piers wonder just how much fae blood Roz had, and what powers lay dormant inside her.

Or were they dormant?

The door opened, interrupting his thoughts. The older sister was ushered inside. Her scared gaze darted from him to Jonas and then over her shoulder to the door, as if she were contemplating doing a runner. He almost smiled—he could have told her that there was nowhere to run, but he doubted that would have a calming effect. Instead, he strode toward her.

“Look at me,” he said in a low, calm voice.

She swallowed but lifted her gaze to him.

He allowed his will to flow out, wrap around her mind, and the fear and panic receded from her eyes.

“Tell me what happened when the convent was attacked.”

She spoke slowly, not hesitating, the events unfolding exactly as they had been told the first time. Piers glanced at Jonas. The warlock gave a small nod—as far as he was aware, she was telling the truth, at least as she saw it.

When she’d finished, he gestured to one of the upright chairs. Once she sat, he took the seat opposite and considered what else to ask. He didn’t think the sister had any information of interest, or that she was hiding anything. She was exactly what she seemed. Which didn’t help him much.

“How long have you been with the Little Sisters of Mercy?” he asked.

“Eight years.”

“And how long have you known Sister Rosa?”

“She came to the convent two weeks ago.”

Ah, now that was more interesting. “From where?”

“I don’t know. I presume she was sent from the mother house and that she was seeking to get closer to God through our enclosed order. The convent was the only one remaining where the rules of enclosure were still strictly adhered to. And now the sisters are all dead.”

“Did you know her well?”

“No. We kept to ourselves.”

“And since then?”

“Sister Rosa has been nothing but kind to me. She is a good person.”

Piers had his doubts about that. It was becoming increasingly obvious that Sister Rosa was up to something. And maybe it was time to find out what. He rose to his feet and crossed to the door.

“Thank you, Sister.”

The guard was still stationed outside. “Take this one back and bring the other.”

He sat back down and pondered what could be going on. Was Sister Rosa somehow involved in the Andarta thing? Or was she just caught up in the whole mess by chance and actually had a totally different agenda? Right now, he was leaning toward the latter, but that was partly wishful thinking. He hated the idea she was involved.

They’d heard nothing from Jack. According to Carl, the police were still watching his house, so it was unlikely he’d go back there. And the girl was alive and recuperating. He only hoped Jack had made sure she wouldn’t remember anything.

One day in the not too dim and distant future, their kind was going to have to make itself known to humans. But not just yet.

He turned to Jonas. “The next one is interesting.”

“Really? In what way?”

“I don’t know, but I hope to find out. She has fae blood, but I’m certain she doesn’t know it. Just let me know if you pick anything up.”

“Will do. You have me intrigued now. Things have been a little slow around here lately.”

“Well, the good news is—that’s about to change.”

“It is? Oh, goody. Are you going to tell me how?”

“Isn’t that your job?”

Jonas opened his mouth to answer, just as the guard ushered Sister Rosa into the room. She stood inside the door, hands clasped in front of her, her eyes downcast. The room filled with her sweet scent. Beside him, he heard Jonas’s sharp indrawn breath. The warlock could sense it as well.

Piers pushed himself to his feet and strolled toward her, his body tightening as he drew near. Christ, she had a powerful effect on him.

Halting in front of her, he reached out and placed his hand under her chin, forcing her to gaze into his face. She resisted for a moment and then the tension drained from her, and she stared up at him. Her eyes were magnificent close up, a deep, dark brown, but flecked with gold, and fringed with the thickest, sootiest lashes he had ever seen. For a moment, he was the one mesmerized. He pushed the thought aside. The time for fun would be when he had confirmed that she wasn’t part of some conspiracy to break down the walls between worlds and enslave mankind for all time.

He grinned as he pushed his will into her mind. “Sister Rosa,” he murmured. “Tell me how long you’ve been with the Little Sisters of Mercy.”

She fluttered those thick lashes at him. “Six years.”

That was unexpected. So she was really a nun? Why was he surprised? A nun with unusual taste in underwear and a vibrator in her bedside cabinet.

“And where were you before? Sister Maria said you’d only been with them a couple of weeks.”

“I was at the mother house in Devon.”

“And why did you move?”

She was silent for a moment as though she was unwilling to answer. Was he going to hear something interesting at last?

“My faith was being tested. I believed the enclosed convent would bring me closer to God.”

Hmm. It sounded feasible, but he wasn’t buying it. But she couldn’t lie, not while he held her mind. Maybe someone had gotten to her. Maybe Jack at the convent or…

“Piers…”

Jonas said his name quietly from behind, and he glanced over his shoulder. Jonas gestured for him to come closer, and Piers moved to stand beside him. The warlock turned so his back was to Sister Rosa and spoke quietly. “You do know that she’s pretending, don’t you?”

Shock hit him in the gut. “Pretending?” That theory hadn’t occurred to him at all. “How the fuck can she be pretending?” He kept his voice low. But how could she be—it wasn’t possible. The only “person” he’d come across in more than a thousand years who could resist his compulsion was Tara. And she’d turned out to be half fae, half demon.

Jonas shrugged. “I have no idea, but she’s having you on, my friend.” He gazed past Piers for a moment. Piers followed the look. Sister Rosa was staring at them out of those big brown eyes, appearing the perfect picture of sweetness. Hell. Was she pretending? Had she been pretending the last couple of times? When she’d given up her sweet blood and come so easily in his arms?

“Why?”

He’d been speaking more to himself than to Jonas, but the warlock answered anyway.

“I have no clue as to the why. Now the how—that’s another matter.”

“So tell me how.” He wasn’t sure he was going to like the answer.

“I can sense a great power. It was obvious as soon as she walked in the room. But it’s off, hidden and unfocused…” He shook his head. “Almost as if she’s unaware herself.”

“Maybe she doesn’t know what she is either.”

“She knows enough to pretend to your compulsion. Which means someone must have warned her about you.”

Who? Was she part of some intricate plot? He couldn’t believe how much he hated that idea. But if she was, then how did she fit in? Who was she working with?

How far would she go to keep up the pretense?

He was about to find out.