Of Blood and Passion (21 page)

As the blood continued to run down her neck, Quinn glared at the vampire she’d pinned to the floor through will alone. The male met her gaze with a mix of amusement and anger.

“Go,” Sakamoto said.

The two guards on either side of Arturo stepped back and a second later he was at her side, holding her.

“Tesoro,” he groaned, dipping his head to the other side of her neck from the wound, and biting her.
The injury is not as bad as I had feared
.
My bite should be sufficient. I am sorry I could not stop him.

Finally he pulled back, wiping his mouth as he eyed the wound, his brows knit together.

“I’ve been properly whipped for my bad manners,” the young-looking vampire said from the ground. “How about you let me get up now?”

Quinn turned hard eyes on him, meeting a laconic gaze. “I’ve been needing someone to practice my death touch on. I’m thinking you might do nicely.”

No fear leapt into the asshole’s eyes, disappointingly. Just more amusement.

“It is best if you do not kill him,
cara
,” Arturo said, his voice loud enough for all to hear. “He is the one whose assistance we seek.”

Quinn stifled a groan even as she continued to stare down the vampire on the floor. “
You’re
Tassard? Centuries and centuries of living and you still haven’t learned any manners?” Her voice hardened. “You attack me again, and I
will
kill you.”

“Release me,” Tassard growled.

When she glanced at Arturo, he nodded, so she did. A moment later Tassard was gone, reappearing at the bar in the corner where he proceeded to pour himself another brandy.

Quinn took a deep breath and released it slowly, breathing through the diminishing pain.

Arturo peered again at her neck. “The bleeding has stopped.”

“Good.” Her clothes were not only soaked with rain, but now with blood. And she was, once more, beginning to shiver.

“You need a blanket.”

“I’ll be fine as long as I can stand by the fire.”

“Have a seat, Arturo,” Sakamoto said, his voice sharper than it had been before. “There will be no more attacking my guests, Tassard.”

The ancient vampire shrugged. “I wanted a taste.”

Sakamoto turned to Quinn. “My apologies, sorceress. As you say, my guest has poor manners. If he harms you again, I will slay him.”

The look Tassard threw the vamp master was laced with a wariness that told Quinn that the threat was not idle.

Sakamoto took his seat and again waved to the cushions across from him. “Sit. Sit.”

Arturo met Quinn’s gaze and she could see he was torn.

“Go,” she said quietly. “Use your wiles to get us what we need.”

Amusement flickered in his eyes briefly before he turned and strode back to the low table, taking his seat. Micah and Lukas joined him, one on either side, but Kassius remained standing against the back wall watching everything…and everyone.

“You stated that you know why I am here,” Arturo said. “I would hear your explanation.”

Sakamoto gave a single slow nod. “I believe…I
know
…that the sorceress’s power rivals Phineas Blackstone’s. Yet twice she has attempted to renew the magic and twice she has failed.” A frown furrowed his brow. “What I do not know is why.”

Arturo seemed to consider his words. “She has Levenach blood as well as Blackstone. Her father was descended from one, her mother from the other.” He’d yet to use his
persuasion,
his ability to exert low levels of mind control, but so far she supposed it hadn’t been needed.

“The Levenach curse,” Sakamoto murmured.

“Yes. It strangles her Blackstone magic. The curse must be broken if Vamp City is to survive.”

“Does Cristoff know you are here?”

“You know he does not. His…plans…are not in the best interest of Vamp City.”

“Cristoff Gonzaga and I have been rivals since Vamp City was first conceived. But I find it hard to believe that you fear he would not act in the best interest of even his own kovena, his own vampires.”

“Then you’ve had few dealings with Cristoff of late.”

“I have not.”

“He’s changed.” Arturo’s expression tightened.

Sakamoto glanced over his shoulder at the tall male at his back. “My cat wishes to read the sorceress’s magic. My cats can do much through mental divination, but even more through touch. I would have him touch the sorceress.” His gaze swung to her. “If she will allow it.”

Quinn would have loved to refuse. She honestly didn’t trust any of them. But if the male really was a seer, he might learn something that could help them break through this curse. “If your cat has decent manners, I’ll allow it. But he’s going to have to come here. I’m not leaving the warmth of the fire.”

The dark-skinned male watched her with warm, sympathetic eyes. “I will not harm you, sorceress. I will only touch you.”

Her mouth compressed, then softened as she sensed his sincerity. “All right.”

Something resembling a smile crinkled the corners of the cat’s eyes and he strode to her without waiting for his master’s direction to do so. Arturo rose as well and accompanied him.

The cat glanced at Arturo, but said nothing until he stood before her. “I am Davu.” He studied her, his eyes intensely curious.

“Quinn.”

“Hello, Quinn. As I said, I won’t hurt you. I merely want to understand your magic. To do so, I must touch your head.” He glanced once more at Arturo as if making certain her vampire guard dog would allow it.

“Tell me what you sense,” Quinn said, studying the male in return—the hard planes of his face, his wide mouth, his dark, intelligent eyes. “If I’m going to save Vamp City, I need every scrap of information I can get.”

His head dipped slightly, a hint of a smile lifting one side of his mouth. “Deal.”

“Why does he call you his cat?”

“My sister and I are werecats.”

Quinn stared at him with surprise. “I didn’t know there was such a thing.”

“There are few of us in this part of the world. Fewer still in Vamp City.”

“You have met one already,
tesoro mio
,” Arturo said.

She looked at him with surprise. “Who?”

“Ernesta, my Slava.”

Quinn stared at him, a
werecat
? The matronly Latino she’d met at Arturo’s house a month ago had told her she was neither human nor vampire, but had declined to fill her in further. Quinn turned back to Davu curiously.

“What kind of cat are you?”

“A leopard.” He reached for her, placing his fingertips lightly across the top of her skull, his thumbs on her temples.

Quinn stared at him as he closed his eyes, stunned. Every time she thought she’d finally gotten used to the various supernatural creatures that existed in this world, along came another one.

Behind him, his sister walked back in the room, carrying some kind of fabric, though Quinn couldn’t turn her head to get a good look. Finally Davu stepped back and, to Quinn’s surprise, bowed low, hands together, in the Japanese tradition. When he rose again, his gaze found hers, a warm smile on his face.

“I am honored, sorceress.” He turned and walked back to take his place behind Sakamoto.

The moment he moved away, his sister approached Quinn, her steps slowing, her face turning to a scowl as she stared at the blood now soaking Quinn’s chest.

“What happened?” The angry demand in her voice as she turned to the others made it clear she was far more than merely a servant.

“Tassard happened,” Davu replied from across the room, his voice oddly resigned.

The woman turned back to Quinn, regret in her eyes. “The bleeding has stopped?”

“It has,” Arturo said, remaining at Quinn’s side.

The woman watched her a moment more, then apparently decided she was telling the truth. “You could use a bath.”

“I’m fine,” Quinn said.

“Your wet clothes will act as cloths with which to clean off the blood.” Bending down, she laid a small pile of clothes on the floor, away from the blood splatters. Shaking out the blanket, she held it up as a curtain.

“You may change, sorceress, free from prying eyes. There is a towel with the clothes with which you can dry off. The clothes will fit, I assure you.”

Quinn hesitated only a moment before sitting to strip off her sodden boots and socks. She glanced up at Arturo. “I’ve got this, Vampire.”

“I shall be happy to help.” While his words possessed a trace of the charmer, she saw nothing but an iron protectiveness in his eyes.

“I’m fine, Turo. Go, please?”

He didn’t move immediately, but, finally, with a dip of his head, moved out from behind the blanket. Quinn glanced up to find feminine eyes peering at her over the top.

“Thank you…?” Quinn began to peel off her wet clothes.

“Dera.”

“Thank you, Dera.”

It wasn’t easy or comfortable yanking off the sodden clothes, but Quinn managed to divest herself of her things, then wipe off the blood with the back of her soaked shirt. With the towel she found at the bottom of the pile, she dried off thoroughly before donning panties, a pair of drawstring black silk pants, and a soft cotton Henley t-shirt in faded blue. At the bottom of the pile, she found a pair of black ballet slippers in exactly her size, which she quickly slipped on. She felt more dressed for bed than battle, but for the first time since the rain started, she was dry, except for her hair. More importantly, she was almost warm.

Dera dropped the blanket. “Would you like to wrap up in this for a while?”

Quinn smiled. “No, I’ll be fine if I can stand in front of the fire for a few more minutes.” Leaning over, she wrapped her hair in the towel. When she straightened again, she found Dera still standing there, watching her.

Slowly Dera held out her free hand, a question in eyes as warm as her brother’s.

At first Quinn thought she wanted something back, but she was wearing everything Dera had handed her, in one way or another. Suddenly, she understood. The werecats read her through touch.

Quinn placed her hand in Dera’s, allowing the woman’s warm fingers to curve around hers. Quinn watched as Dera’s eyes closed, as a look of confusion crossed her face, then cleared, leaving a small smile in its place.

Dera opened her eyes and grinned broadly then, to Quinn’s amazement, leaned forward and gave Quinn a quick peck on the cheek before turning and crossing the room to take her place beside her brother.

Quinn found most of the males in the room watching her with varying degrees of bemusement and curiosity. Arturo’s brows were knitted. Tassard, who’d resumed his seat across the room, sipped at his brandy, ignoring them all.

“My cats?” Sakamoto prompted.

“She is the Healer spoken of in legend,” Davu said. “It is her magic that battles the darkness of Phineas Blackstone’s, that cleanses the tarnished souls of all who reside here.”

Sakamoto watched Quinn with interest, and no small confusion. “She has not renewed the magic.”

“No. But she has twice made the attempt. In connecting her magic to the city’s, she has initiated the dissolution of the poison, and triggered the transformation, the reclaiming of our souls.”

Quinn stared at Davu, then turned to Arturo, who was watching her intently, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“It’s
my
doing?” she asked. When she turned back, she found Sakamoto watching her.

“You are our salvation, sorceress. But you must renew the magic or all is for naught.” He glanced behind him. “My cats?”

“It is as the Gonzaga vamps say,” Dera replied. “The Healer’s Blackstone magic is being strangled by the Levenach curse. She requests Tassard’s assistance in breaking the curse.”

“And how in the bloody hell am I supposed to break a curse?” Tassard scowled.

Arturo turned to him. “It is our understanding that you possess a form of glamour that might change the sorceress into the Black Wizard long enough for her to break the curse herself.”

Tassard gave a grunt of disbelief and took another sip of his drink. But his eyes turned to her, filling with speculation. “She has the blood of the Black Wizard within her.”

Arturo nodded. “And a considerable amount of it, if the strength of her magic is any measure.”

Setting his brandy snifter on the floor beside his chair, Tassard rose. Everyone in the room tensed, guards reaching for their sword hilts.

“No sudden moves, my friends,” Sakamoto said calmly. “Tassard, what is your intent?”

“I need to read her.”

“Ripping my throat out wasn’t enough?” Quinn asked sarcastically.

The bad mannered vamp watched her with that hint of amusement. “You’re the one who did the ripping, sorceress, in throwing me off you. I only took a bite.”

“And what’s your plan this time?”

“To touch you, as the twins did. And to bite you again. I tasted magic, but now I would search for the Black Wizard’s.”

“No,” Arturo said, moving to her side.