Supernatural Seduction (Book 2 of the Coffin Girls Series) (24 page)

“Do it,” she barked at Sylvain.

She readied herself for the impact and was
relieved when it didn’t hit her. The feeling of elation and
invincibility was still there, but the scorching sexual need was
gone. Ignoring her subconscious disappointment at that, she focused
once again on finding the girls.

Sophie gasped. “Sylvain, can you see it?”

“Yes,
ma chérie
,” he responded, “I
can."

When the group looked at the house,
previously, all they had seen were odd and ends, pieces of junk and
mile-high weeds surrounding the house. Now, those things were
replaced by the visual of a basement with blackened windows. They
approached the house, their feet walking through previously solid
rubble as though it was little more than a misty figment of their
imaginations.

Sophie stared at the ground in disbelief.
“Wow. I hate admitting to being impressed by dark magick, but Ayden
has some serious skills.”

Sylvain nodded his agreement, then ordered
the warriors to do a perimeter check and look for openings. Sylvain
rubbed a hand over his face; it had greyed progressively since he'd
linked with her.

“We’ve found the witches,” Sophie touched a
hand to his arm. “Pull your magick back in.”

“Not until we find the girls,” he stated
firmly.

“You won’t be any use to us, if you keep this
up,” Sophie argued. “At least let go once we find the
entrance.”

“We don’t have time for this, Sophie,”
Sylvain’s growled.

“Well then I don’t have to go in there,” she
pointed at the house. “In fact, I’ll stand right here and wait
until you give.”

Sylvain smirked, “You’d never do that. You’d
never not save someone.”

“Really?” Sophie quirked a brow in challenge.
“I can assure you, Sylvain that one of the lessons I learned from
my time with you was to not always put others’ wishes first. You
are of no use to me, the girls or your warriors in an unconscious
state, so stop being such a fucking martyr.”

He grinned despite a keen need to shake some
sense into her. Couldn’t she see he was trying to protect her? He
had to admire her guts. “Okay,” he acquiesced.

The guards returned to let them know that
there was no way into the basement from outside. Sylvain thanked
them, and then looked at Sophie. “I’m hoping that if this was
covered by an illusion spell that the entrance is in the house and
covered by one also.”

“Why don’t you just blast it open?” Sophie
asked, concerned by his pallor and consumed by the need to get the
witches out.

“We don’t know exactly where they are in
there and we might inadvertently hurt them if we blast anything. Or
we could alert the vampires and if they have Ayden’s magick, they
could leave with them. I know Anais said that the vamps are gone,
but we can’t be sure as she got a second hand account from one of
the girls. We still have to assume that it could be a trap.”

“Oh, of course,” Sophie responded feeling
like an idiot and trailed behind him up the stairs.

The door to the basement was located off the
kitchen where it usually was in most homes. Sophie shook her head
at the irony. “If nothing, the past few incidences have taught me
to not disregard what’s right in front of you.”

“Now that’s a lesson, I feel happy about,”
Sylvain chirped, earning him a resounding thump against his
arm.

“You promised,” Sophie reminded him.

Sylvain sighed then nodded, and pulled his
magick from Sophie. Sophie felt the magick leave her, leaving a
trail of cold as it moved on. It wasn’t uncomfortable or painful.
It was like coming out of the warm sun to sit in the shade and have
a slightly chilly breeze touch your skin. Sophie omitted an
involuntary shudder as the last of it left her. She did a quick
check and found that all was as it had been before they'd combined
their magick.

“Do we need a spell or can you unlock it with
your magick?” Sophie contemplated the ordinary white door.

Sylvain took a moment to contemplate the
door, and then responded, “Done." As easy as that, the door to the
basement swung open. It didn’t creak, and no monsters sprung out,
it just opened.

“Oh,” exclaimed Sophie, who had been gearing
up for some unknown surprise.

“It seems that Ayden was over-confident in
his ability to shield the basement from intruders and didn’t
strengthen the locking spell on the door - like humans that have
security guards and laser beams in their yard, but leave the front
door unlocked.”

“Or it’s a trap,” Sophie replied.

“Yes,” Sylvain nodded. “If it’s a trap, it
would be better to wait for reinforcements. We can add to our power
base if more witches and fae join us.”

“But we would have to wait,” Sophie
stated.

“Yes,” Sylvain agreed. “And it will be dark
soon, and then we won’t know if any vamps will rise or how many of
them there will be.”

As Prince of Fae, Sylvain was powerful. His
fae warriors were the type of men that made women feel safe and men
feel insecure. They were just that dangerous. But, Ayden had
already surprised them before and if it was a trap, they were
really walking in blind. For all they knew, the basement could be a
portal to a completely different realm. She knew that Sylvain
hesitated because of her. He was still protecting her and while it
should have pissed her off, it didn’t. She decided to not go there
with him. The young witches were the priority at the moment, not
her relationship with Sylvain. “So,” Sophie began, “our choices are
go down there and deal with whatever it is and kick ass even if it
is a trap, or wait it out, call for reinforcements that might be
too late to save the girls, and put us more at risk should rising
vamps make an appearance.”

“Yes,” Sylvain agreed. He had become
uncharacteristically monosyllabic.

“Sylvain, cher,” Sophie’s eyes had become
vamp red, her expression eager. “Let’s go kick some ass.”

Sylvain grinned in response, but Sophie could
have sworn she saw a flicker of concern cross his gorgeous face and
she’d bet her next pair of Jimmy Choos that it was worry for
her.

The stairs that greeted them, heading into
the dark basement, were like any set of basement stairs you’ might
find in an old farmhouse. It had a railing on one side and a wall
on the other. The only distinguishing characteristic was the
darkness. Sophie had only seen such blackness in the bayou night
beyond the illumination offered by plantation homes. Fortunately,
their supernatural abilities afforded them enhanced sight. Their
uncanny stealth, too, was advantageous in their current situation -
as by unspoken agreement they descended the stairs slowly,
soundlessly. Sophie broke the silence first when her fingers
brushed the wall next to her. Pain hit her and tore a cry from her
throat. The wall had screamed at her when she touched it, breaking
her shield. The many voices of young girls and women simultaneously
flooded her mind. Pictures of them being thrown down the stairs,
hitting their heads, limbs, and torsos against the wall and the
wooden railing washed through her head. Sophie sunk down onto the
stairs in a debilitating heap. Pain, fear, loss, and
self-righteously defensive anger rendered her speechless as she
relived the moments when the captives had entered this hell hole.
It no longer resembled a typical basement staircase, but the
entrance to a sinister house of horrors.

Just as suddenly as her fall, the basement
broke out into screams, mingling with those in her head like a
chaotic chorus of tortured souls. It was clear that they had found
the captive witches. And courtesy of Sophie’s empath abilities,
landed on her, making her feel like an elephant had just sat on her
head. Though, struggling to stand up under the weight of witches’
past and present emotions, Sophie refused the hand Sylvain
offered.

“No,” Sophie protested, her hair in disarray,
eyes wild. “I can do this.”

Head darting back and forth between his men
and Sophie, Sylvain watched grimly as Sophie struggled to gain
control.

With her shield back in place and breathless
from the exertion of her magick, Sophie shakily stood up and did a
check of what was happening around her. The room was low, dark, and
built for storage. Unlike other basements, it was what had been
stored in it recently that had turned an innocent space into a
psychopath’s wet dream. The basement smelled of feces, urine, and
putrefied flesh. Mingling with the macabre bouquet was the smell of
blood: fresh and stale.

Using their telepathic link, Sophie informed
Sylvain, “There’s fresh blood.”

“You think the vamps have been here?” Sylvain
asked.

“Could be,” Sophie replied as she followed
him into the chaos. Bodies of dead witches carelessly littered the
basement. The women who still lived were dirty, disheveled, and
were desperately clawing and throwing themselves at the fae
warriors.

“Why are they like this?” Sophie wondered
aloud.

“Like animals?” offered Sylvain. “Treat
people in that manner long enough and they start to believe
it.”

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go help
calm them down so we can get them to be witches again.”

Sophie walked straight towards the throng of
witches just as Sylvain caught the wild shaking of one of the fae
warrior’s heads. “Goddess!” exclaimed Sylvain, “they’re trying to
eat us.” He remembered Conall’s many lectures to his coven of
witches on taking care of themselves and on how the body was a
vessel for their magick. Neglect the vessel and the body would turn
on it.

“Sophie,” Sylvain intruded the horror that
had captured her mind. “They’ve been eating each other. That’s why
we smell fresh blood.”

Sophie squashed down the urge to throw up.
“The witches must have tried to use magick to escape,” Sophie sent
back to him. “They’re depleted.” And to a witch, Sophie thought
ruefully, that was bad news. She turned back towards the insanity
and continued her path, straight for the witches.

“Sophie wait!” he called out, but she was
already in the midst of the throng. Cursing, he followed suit.

Sylvain couldn’t spot Sophie or the fae, who
seemed to have sunken into the mob of prisoners gone wild. Pushed
to the ground, hands grabbed clothes away from his body and teeth
from starving mouths left bruises along his torso. He stared into
the feral eyes of one of the women as her head descended towards
his face, ready to take a bite to satiate her hunger.

“Use force!” Sylvain ordered, using his
magick to project his voice. “Detain by any means necessary.”

No longer barred by the instruction to bring
the captives back to the hollow unharmed, the fae warriors began to
fight back. The cannibalistic witches were no match for the fae
warriors and were forcibly bound within minutes. The beautiful
features of the warriors were marred by the distaste of having to
strong-arm the women, even though they each sported bruises,
scratches, and were missing chunks of flesh.

He searched the room for Sophie. She was
holding her own against a pack of witches. He ran to her aid before
they turned her into dinner. He forgot that they were victims too.
All he could see was the danger they presented to Sophie. He
grabbed one, then two, tranquilized them with a shot of magick and
threw them to the side. He worked with Sophie to restrain the rest.
One of the witches wiggled free from Sophie’s grasp and threw
herself at her. Sylvain saw Sophie go down. The smell of vampire
blood seemed to spark a glimmer of life within the tranquilized
witches and they began to move. They began to move towards Sophie,
dragging their bodies on the ground by their arms. They had one
goal in mind – eating Sophie.

Sophie must have been injured, but recovered
quickly enough to throw the witch off of her and began, again,
helping Sylvain to bind the rest. The witches were pitiful,
growling, and whining for food. Sylvain felt a lump form in his
throat. No being deserved to be reduced to this. He swore to do
what he could to either bring them back to humanity or kill them
humanely if they could not be saved.

Once the last witch was bound, he scanned the
basement for more and found it empty. Only then did he dare look at
Sophie.

He stood a foot apart from her, running his
eyes over her. “You’re hurt,” he said in concern.

Sophie shook her head, “No, I’m okay.” She
lifted her shirt to show the scratch across her stomach. The
healing powers of her vampire magick had already begun to heal it.
“Within minutes there won’t be anything. I’ll be fine. I’m just a
bit winded, but I’m otherwise unharmed.”

Sylvain resisted the urge to grab her, shake
her, and kiss her all at once. “Good,” he nodded, relief sinking
into his bones.

“Are you okay?” Sophie ventured.

“Yes,” Sylvain replied. Sophie noticed that
he was back to his earlier monosyllabic replies. Sylvain turned to
the warriors guarding the witches. “Let’s get them out of here and
to the hollow.”

He offered Sophie a smile and a hand, “Let’s
get out of here.”

Sophie smiled back and placed her hand in
his. Maybe this would change things. Goddess knows they needed to
take some time in order to talk things through.

“Not so fast,” an eerie voiced said from
behind them.

Fuck, thought Sophie, the daylight was over,
and the vampires had risen.

Sophie had a nanosecond to see the vampire’s
face before his fist smashed into her cheek. Bone crunched and pain
exploded on the side of her face, drawing a scream from her throat.
Her head whipped first back, then forward when another blow met
her. She’d had enough of the fucking abuse. Using the momentum from
the vampire’s blow, she fell back, rolled, and grabbed the knife
from the sheath strapped to her leg. She was ready for him when he
charged her. She stayed on the ground, using her legs to dodge, and
push past him on the outside of his legs. In the short moment, with
his legs apart as he moved past her, she shoved her hand in between
them and sliced the tendons above his heel. He immediately sagged
to the ground. Adrenaline rushed through her propelling her to her
feet. She flipped him around and with a deathly grip on the knife,
staked him through the heart.