Page 71 of Twilight Longings

“Although I hate to put myself in your hands, it will undoubtedly be quicker for you to transport us there and back.”

Stifling a grin, Saintcrow said, “I promise not to drop you in the ocean along the way.”

“Very funny,” the witch retorted.

“All right,” Saintcrow said, slipping his arm around her waist. “Here we go.”

It took only a few minutes to reach the location she had drawn earlier. The castle, made of white stone, was mostly in ruins, the turrets broken or missing, the doors and windows in pieces or non-existent. An enormous fireplace stood in the middle of what had likely been the Great Hall.

“Can you detect Luca’s presence?” Saintcrow asked, his voice subdued.

“No.” She held up the Medallion. “This way.”

He followed her through the wreckage, down three flights of broken stairways to the dungeon, which was pitch black. It was no problem for Saintcrow, who could see clearly in the dark. Izabela whispered a few words and a small light magically appeared in front of her, illuminating her way. The air smelled of fear, old blood and death, and pain. Izabela lifted her skirts as she picked her way across the floor, which was littered with the desiccated bodies and skeletons of dead rodents and other small creatures.

Far in the back of the dungeon amid the wreckage, they found a wooden casket that looked almost as old as the castle itself.

Izabela shuddered when she saw it.

Saintcrow swore softly as he moved toward it and lifted the lid. Kincaid lay inside, his hands and feet bound withheavy silver chains. His wrists and ankles were burned red where the silver touched his skin. His talisman was gone.

Saintcrow hissed when he touched one of the chains. Luca had doused them with something. He didn’t know what the necromancer had used. Silver no longer burned his skin. Neither did holy water. Whatever Luca had used burned like hellfire.

“Is he alive?” Izabela asked, coming up behind him.

“Barely. Let’s get him out of here.” There was no way Izabela could lift Kincaid. Taking a deep breath, Saintcrow reached into the coffin, only to freeze when a familiar voice said, “I wouldn’t do that.” Luca.Shit.He had hoped the necromancer would be elsewhere.

“How very nice of the two of you to come,” the necromancer said. “Saves me the trouble of finding you.”

The muscles in Saintcrow’s jaw clenched.

“And you brought the Medallion. How thoughtful.” Luca moved deeper into the room. “You must be Izabela,” he said, his voice laced with venom. “I have a special treat for you.”

“Have you?” she asked.

“Yes, indeed.” With a wicked grin, he reached for the Medallion. At his touch, the metal burst into flame. Luca let out a screech and jerked his hand away as the heat scorched his palm and set his hair on fire.

Dropping the Medallion, Izabela shouted, “Now!” as Luca’s spirit left his host’s body.

At the witch’s command, Saintcrow sprang forward and trapped the necromancer’s spirit in a box similar to the soul-catcher they had used before. Only this one was made of wormwood lined with silver and filled with rue, an herb used for thousands of years to repel witches and ward off evil.

Luca let out an enraged scream as his spirit was sucked into the box. There was a faintwhooshas the fire was extinguished and an uncanny silence fell over the dungeon.

“You won’t get out of this one,” Saintcrow muttered. Placing the box on the floor, he returned to the coffin. Jake lay as before, unmoving. “What’s our next move?” Saintcrow asked, as Izabela came up beside him.

“We wait,” she replied calmly.

“Wait? For what?”

“Be patient, vampire.”

“Not one of my best traits,” he growled. “I can feel Kincaid’s pain. We need to end this, now.”

The witch threw him an impatient look as she began gathering an armful of aged wood and piled it in the center of the dungeon. When she was satisfied, she picked up the Medallion and emptied the blood from the vial onto the stack. A word ignited the centuries-old wood. “Get the box.”

Saintcrow smiled as he picked it up and carried it over to the fire.

Chanting softly, Izabela walked around the burning pile, three times one way, three times the other. When the blood had been consumed by the flames, she nodded to Saintcrow who stepped closer and, with a great deal of satisfaction, tossed the box into the midst of the pyre.

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