Page 120 of Twilight Destiny

“Not really,” Kincaid muttered. “Damn, it’s hotter than hell here.”

“Have you got the box?”

Kincaid pulled it out of his jacket pocket and handed it to the master vampire. When that was done, he took a deep breath. “I hate to do this to you, Rhinehart. I know you’ve got a family. But you’re a danger to your wife and kids and we’ve decided the best thing to do is put you out of your misery. It’ll be a long time before anyone finds your body.”

With a low growl, Kincaid grasped the hunter by the shoulders and buried his fangs deep in his throat.

Rhinehart shook violently as he tried to escape Kincaid’s hold as he drank and drank.

A high-pitched screech filled the air, followed by Luca’s voice screaming, “No!”

Saintcrow swore as a pale, white mist in the vague shape of a man emerged from the hunter. Opening the box, he cried, “Luca Sasan, by the power of earth, wind, and fire, I command you to obey my words and submit your will to mine. Come to me.”

The wraith hovered in the air, seemingly being pulled apart as half of it drifted toward the box while the other half endeavored to go in the opposite direction.

Kincaid lifted his head, unable to believe what he was seeing.

Saintcrow repeated his command, And still the wraith refused to obey. Shrinking in on itself, it seemed to gain power as it moved away from Saintcrow.

Kincaid swore under his breath. Dammit! “Saintcrow, let’s try saying the spell together!”

Saintcrow nodded. “On three. One, two, three.”

Together, they repeated the words, their combined voices ringing in the air like thunder in the quiet of the night. “Luca Sasan, by the power of earth, wind, and fire, we command you to obey our words and submit your will to ours. Come to us.”

A horrible, other-worldly shrieking rent the silence as the necromancer continued to struggle against the power of their command. The wraith stretched out, straining to refuse, but, ever so slowly, it was drawn toward the box.

Kincaid held his breath when, with one final, ear-splitting scream of denial, Luca’s essence was sucked into the soul catcher.

As soon as it was inside, Saintcrow slammed the lid down. “How’s Rhinehart?”

“As near death as you can get without actually dying.” Kincaid bit into his wrist, pried the hunter’s mouth open and let his blood drip onto Rhinehart’s tongue.

At first, nothing happened, but, gradually, Rhinehart swallowed.

“I think that’s enough,” Saintcrow said.

“He still looks pale. Maybe a little of your blood?”

“Hell, no,” Saintcrow said, removing the handcuffs from Rhinehart’s wrists. “It’s bad enough that the black witch has some.” He jerked his chin toward the hunter. “He’s awake.”

Rhinehart sat up, his expression befuddled, then fearful as he glanced around. “What happened? What am I doing here? Why do I feel so … so strange? Damn, the ground is hot. Am I in hell?”

“I’ll admit it looks like hell,” Saintcrow agreed. “But it’s just a desert.”

“What happened?”

“It’s a long story,” the master vampire said. “Kincaid can tell you all about it someday. But right now, all you need to know is that your vampire hunting days are over.”

Chapter Fifty-Two

Kincaid felt as if days had passed since they’d left home. Once they reached Wyoming, they made a phone call and three stops on their way back to Morgan Creek.

Kincaid called Izabela to let her know her spell had been a success.

With a snort, she said,” Did you think it would fail? As I told your companion, I’m very good at what I do.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

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