“Now, explanations over, are you two ready?” Ophelia asked. “The sorceress knows we’re here, and she is not a patient one. We best get moving.” With that, she headed towards the church.
Andre and I shared a look. This could end poorly. He gave a pointed glance down at the knives strapped to my legs, and his meaning was clear. If anything were to go wrong, I needed to use them.
“So, what exactly is a sorceress?” I asked Andre, stalling for time.
“A witch of great power.” He was apparently stalling for time too.
“A witch?” Now her location was particularly ironic.
Andre nodded, distracted. The church grounds lay just a step away, the frosted grass beckoning him across. But centuries of conditioning prevented him from taking that final step across.
I wondered whether there was really a chance that the once hallowed ground would cause Andre to spontaneously combust. My soul wasn’t lily white either; there was a chance I might also go up in flames.
I seriously hoped that these were tales spun by superstitions, and that time had given them credibility. Otherwise my ass might get creamed the moment I crossed the threshold.
I took a deep breath. No time like the present.
Closing my eyes, I crossed onto the church grounds. The instant I did so, the atmosphere changed; the air felt heavier here, as though saturated with … something. Whether it was magic or salvation, I wasn’t sure.
When I didn’t burn, I turned around. Andre watched me, his eyes a bit wider than usual. I extended my hand to Andre. “Here, we can do this together—if your hand starts to burn, just pull it back.”
I expected him to be offended, to puff out his chest and make one of his typical and ridiculous claims about being king of the vampires and yadda yadda yadda. Instead he took my hand, his brow creased.
I pulled it forward until it had passed over the threshold.
Andre stared at his hand in wonder. “It didn’t burn.”
Braver now, he took a step forward, just enough for the tip of his shoes to cross the boundary. A sweet little laugh escaped him at the sight of his intact foot. He stepped all the way across.
He rubbed his mouth, staring down at his intact body. He swore. “That actually worked.” He chuckled again, like he’d just figured out a life cheat.
“Better save your excitement, Andre. We still have the church’s threshold to cross.”
He swatted my bottom, his expression playful. “Wicked little mate. You’re going to pay for that comment later.” The way he was looking at me, I didn’t think I’d mind my punishment too much.
The church smelled musty, and its pews needed a new coat of lacquer. Narrow beams of light filtered through the high windows from the streetlamps outside. I looked around, but other than the three of us, I saw no sign of life.
Next to me, Andre seemed rapt, and I realized that he might not have stepped into a church in centuries. It was just another reminder of the sacrifices he was making on my behalf.
A female voice boomed out from the shadows at the back of the room. “I want to see the girl alone.”
The three of us paused. The sorceress had finally made herself known.
“Over my dead body,” Andre said, recovering the quickest.
The voice chuckled. “Lucky for us, that’s already the case.”
I took a step forward, pulled by her voice and the magic it wielded. It wasn’t like my own ability, which compelled people to do my bidding. More like the sheer power behind her words reeled me in.
Andre caught my wrist. “Soulmate, I don’t trust her.” He didn’t bother lowering his voice.
“You wish to do business with me, vampire, when I know nothing of your motives. Let me see this so-called consort and judge her worthiness.”
A muscle in Andre’s cheek fluttered and his eyes flashed.
Whether it was my curiosity, her magic, or a restless feeling that we were wasting time, I made the executive decision to face her and whatever came with the contact. I began walking down the aisle.
“Gabrielle,” Andre growled.
“It’ll be fine,” I said, heading towards the voice. I stepped up to the wooden altar and hesitated. I glanced back at Andre, whose hands were fisted at his sides. Next to him, Ophelia’s skin shimmered a little more than usual, like apprehension flared it up. That, more than Andre’s reaction, had me nervous. If the fairy wasn’t in control of her own dealings, I couldn’t assume my little tea party with the sorceress would go smoothly.
“Come closer, Gabrielle Fiori,” she beckoned from behind the dias.
I stepped around the altar … only for the floor to dissolve beneath me.
Chapter 11
My stomach bottomed out as I fell. Just when I thought I might continue to fall until I reached hell’s gates, my body slammed into a solid surface.
Glass shattered on impact, its jagged edges slicing into my skin in a dozen different locations. Something wet sizzled against my flesh.
“Son of a demon!” This crap required a supernatural curse.
I rolled off the open tomes and the now broken glass jars I’d fallen on only to topple off a table and onto the ground. As I did so, several vials tumbled with me—clinking against the floor.
“And I’d always assumed sirens were graceful.”
I moaned and rubbed my backside. “Some warning would’ve been nice,” I managed.
I had fallen into what looked like a mad scientist’s room—if that mad scientist happened to also be a practitioner of magic. Beakers connected to elaborate glass tubes bubbled, as did a cauldron that hovered over an open flame.
“You’re lucky I don’t kill you on the spot. I could use some siren blood and a favor from the devil.”
That jolted me to attention. I was on my feet in an instant, my hand hovering near one of my knives, ready to square off with the sorceress.
But as my eyes roved over the vats with their plumes of colored smoke, I saw no one.
“Halt your hand. I will not tolerate drawn weapons in my house.”
“Then show yourself,” I called, straightening and lifting my hands to indicate that I was unarmed.
“You show yourself.”
I scrunched up my face. Huh?