Page 114 of Twilight Destiny

“I hate to cut our time here short,” Kincaid said. “But we need to get back to Morgan Creek. I’ve got to go see Izabela and find out if she’s learned anything.”

Rosa wanted to argue, but she felt suddenly guilty, gambling in a fabulous casino while Paul Rhinehart was trapped in a cage, never knowing if he would ever see his family again.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Kincaid said as they left the casino. “I promise.”

The witch was waiting for him when he arrived. After asking the usual question about his intentions and reminding him of the cost of her services, she said, “It is good to see you again, Kincaid. I may have found a solution, depending on Luca. Does he retain his power inside the hunter?”

“I’m not sure, but it sounds like it, at least from what Rhinehart says.”

“If you can drive him out of Rhinehart’s body, I may have found a spell that will imprison his spirit inside a vessel, sort of like trapping a Genie in a lamp.”

“Sounds promising.”

“If it fails, Luca’s spirit will attempt to inhabit whoever is nearby.”

Kincaid nodded thoughtfully.

“Give me a day or two to refine the spell.” Reaching into the pocket of her skirt, she withdrew a familiar bottle.

And Kincaid obligingly bit into his wrist to pay for her information.

As usual, Saintcrow was waiting for him on the porch when he returned to Blair House. “So? What did your witch have to say?”

After muttering, “She’s not my witch,” Kincaid told him what Izabela had said.

“Sounds tricky,” the master vampire remarked. “Seems to me the best way to get Luca out of Rhinehart is to kill the hunter.”

“That’s not going to sit well with my bride.”

Saintcrow shrugged. “Kadie won’t like it, either. Think of it as collateral damage.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I guess I should congratulate you on your recent marriage,” Saintcrow said, changing the subject. “Happened kind of quick, didn’t it?”

Kincaid shrugged. “She asked me and I said yes.”

Saintcrow lifted one brow. “She. Asked. You?”

“That’s what I said. I’m irresistible, didn’t you know?”

“Well, I’m glad she thinks so.” Saintcrow dragged his hand across his jaw. “So, back to matter at hand. You said the witch needs a day or two to work on her solution.”

“Yeah. And I hope like hell it works the first time, because I doubt if we’ll get a second chance.”

Pausing outside the cage, Saintcrow set the wooden tray he carried on a flat stump. Rhinehart sat on the concrete floor, head bowed, arms dangling at his sides. Blood, now dry, had dripped from his nose and down his chin. He didn’t move, didn’t look up.

Saintcrow opened his preternatural senses. The hunter was alive but unaware. The signature of Luca’s dark magic tainted the air.

Slowly, Rhinehart lifted his head. His face was blank, his eyes empty and unblinking.

“He is mine now.” It was Luca’s voice, not the hunter’s. “You will not be able to hold us much longer.”

“What have you done to him?”

“Only what was necessary.”

Saintcrow nodded. Whatever Luca had done to Rhinehart, it hadn’t been pleasant. The blood was proof of a violent internal struggle. Not knowing if it would work, he reinforced the wards around the cage, then picked up the tray and willed himself back home.

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