The Unhallowed (Book Five in the Witch Hunter Saga)

  “I’ve just returned from my evenin’ scavenger hunt,” the knight replied.

  “Find anything?”

  “Nothin’. It’s quiet out there.” Tristan stood beside him and stared at the painting. “A little too quiet if you ask me. The vampires seemed to have settled for the time bein’. There haven’t been any more symbols or corpses, either.”

  “A moment of reprieve, then.”

  “Perhaps they sense Gabby has returned and are waitin’ to see what you do to combat the Unhallowed threat.”

  “Perhaps…” Nye muttered, his mind still hazy from his earlier vision. It was only a matter of time. Until what?

  “How is Isobel?” Tristan asked after a moment.

  He shrugged. That was a can of worms he’d stayed right away from. After biting her like he had—hell, it was unforgivable despite his constant warnings—the temptation had been too strong. His attraction to her overwhelming from the moment her lips had touched his. There was only one way the interlude could have ended—no matter how hard he’d tried to fight it. Nature had won out, and ever since, Nye had avoided her like the plague.

  Tristan turned to face him. “You haven’t been to see her since—”

  “Don’t you even say it, Tristan,” he spat.

  The knight shrugged. “If you feel that strongly about her, then you should apologize. She had a great deal of questions when I went to heal her.”

  Nye scowled, turning his attention back to the painting. The thought of Tristan putting his filthy hands on Isobel to heal her when he should’ve been strong enough to do it himself, made his blood boil.

  He and Tristan had almost become friends over the past months—ever since they’d united against Aed—but his helping Nye with the London vampires didn’t replace two hundred years of loathing overnight. The vampire’s constant observations about his feelings for Isobel weren’t doing much to cement goodwill, either.

  “She’s tryin’ to understand,” Tristan continued. “I can tell her whatever she wants to know about our kind, but it’s not me she wants to hear it from.”

  “The less she knows about this world, the better.”

  “Do you really believe that? With what her brother has become?”

  “I have to believe in something. This belief will save Isobel from certain death, and I get to keep my head when Alex returns.”

  “If you need to believe in somethin’, believe in her strength. Death is not certain on either path.”

  “She needs to live a normal life,” he said thinly. “Remaining here, when this is all said and done, will only put her in more danger. Isn’t that love, Tristan? Protecting someone we care about even at the expense of our own feelings?”

  “Yes…and no.” The knight frowned and shook his head. “We’ve all done things we aren’t proud of, Nye, but it doesn’t mean you should deny yourself happiness if you have the chance. Things that are unforgivable to us are forgivable to others. That is where we find our redemption.”

  “A human cannot survive in this world,” Nye declared stubbornly.

  Tristan smiled and looked the spy over. “Perhaps not on their own.”

  “Over a thousand years old and you’re still a romantic. I’m beginning to believe you were dropped on your head as a child.”

  “The night is dark and full of terrors,” Tristan quoted, ignoring his comment. “But the fire burns them all away.”

  Nye snorted, recognizing the line from Tristan’s favorite television program. “You have a problem.”

  The knight laughed and walked away. “Me and a billion other people on this earth.”

  Nye turned back to the painting once more and studied the lines and swashes of paint that only his vampire eyes could see. Tristan had a peculiar way of getting his point across, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized he had to make a decision. Let Isobel go or…

  Be the fire.

  Chapter 13

  Isobel stared out the kitchen windows at the darkening world beyond and sighed.

  The hues of orange and yellow that lit up the sky were brilliant tonight. The brief English summer was well and truly underway. She could open a window and let the breeze and scent of the garden flow inside, but she couldn’t go out among it.

  She didn’t realize how much she missed sitting outside her favorite pub in Oxford with her friends from the University Masters program until she wasn’t able. Funny how life worked.

  Then there was Nye. Nye, who kissed her like he was starving for affection. Nye, who wanted it from her. Nye, who had all but disappeared without a trace. She knew he was around because she’d heard him talking to Gabby, but not once had she seen his face outside of the incident with Tristan. Even then, she’d been dismissed like an annoying little fly.

  Isobel knew she didn’t belong, but she sure as hell didn’t need the constant reminder.

  “Good evenin’, Isobel.”

  She turned as Tristan appeared behind her, a smile on his face. At least someone around here was happy.

  “Tristan,” she said. “I didn’t see you there.”

  He came to stand beside her, his gaze following hers. “The sunset used to be the sweetest moment of the day,” he mused. “Back when I was first turned. It was when I was finally able to go outside and breathe clearly.”

  She’d never known Tristan to talk about his early life as a vampire, but then again, she didn’t really know him that well. There were a great deal of questions she wanted to ask the knight, and not all of them had to do with his nature. All the history that was available to humanity was limited to what scribes had deigned to write down. Tristan had actually lived through a thousand years of it. He’d marched with the Knights Templar on the Crusades, and that in itself was a wealth of knowledge she was dying to tap into.

  However, she was currently living in a world she didn’t understand. There was no handbook or guide to tell her how things worked or how to act. She could watch all the television she wanted, but it was just fiction.

  “How can you go out into the sunlight?” she asked, trying to make an effort. “I know it has to do with magic, but I don’t quite understand.”

  His lips curved into a smile, and he inclined his head. “Some vampires have an item of jewelry that contains a spell to block the effects of the sun. They have to wear it always. Otherwise, they would burn. Others have a spell that is weaved into their very bein’. It’s a more permanent solution, though it can be removed.”

  “Their body is spelled like the barrier on the house?” she asked.

  “Somethin’ like that. It requires a powerful witch to be able to weave that kind of web. Not all vampires are lucky enough to find someone who is willin’ to cast a spell that complicated.”

  “Do you have a…web?”

  “Yes.”

  Isobel glanced back at the yard beyond the windows.

  “Are you feelin’ better now that Gabby has returned?” Tristan asked.

  “A little, though she’s busy helping Nye with the Unhallowed, I guess.”

  “You must miss goin’ outside,” he said after a moment. “Maybe we can ask Gabby if the barrier can extend out onto the patio.”

  Isobel thought that sounded heavenly, but she still hesitated. “Wouldn’t it leave me exposed? Vampires can’t come in the house, but out there…”

  “Gabby has cast wards around the grounds,” he explained. “We would know if anythin’ is comin’ long before it was a problem.”

  “Maybe…” she said uncertainly. “It would be nice to go out into the sunshine for a while. The weather has been really good.”

  “I’ll ask her if it’s a possibility.”

  She smiled despite the air of melancholy she’d been carrying around since ‘the incident’ with Nye. “That would be nice.”

  Tristan nodded. “I’ll put it to her.” He glanced outside again and said, “I have some business to attend to. Do you need anythin’?”

  Isobel shook her head and ran her hand
s up and down her arms as they began to prickle with goose bumps. There was a sudden chill on the air that had her shivering as she watched Tristan cross the patio and disappear into the yard. Ironically, she didn’t feel any better than when he’d first appeared.

  Sighing, she turned to the kitchen and began pulling food out from the fridge to start cooking for her dinner. It still flipped her out when she opened the door and saw all the blood hanging around next to the pint of milk. It was yet another reminder of her predicament.

  Dinner was a lonely affair, being the only one present in the gigantic house, and she was dwarfed by the size of the island bench with her single plate, single knife, and single fork. It was all a little depressing.

  Isobel didn’t know what made her stand up, walk across the kitchen, and open the back door, but she turned the handle and tugged. Breathing deeply, her eyes widened as the heady scent of the garden beyond filled her nose. It was all flowers and grass with a hint of sunshine that had lingered from that afternoon. She’d never paid much attention to these things before, but after being stuck in the mansion for two weeks, her nose must have developed a sensitivity for all things outside. It was heaven.

  Impulsively, she lifted her hand and went to press it against the barrier. The last time she’d tried to beat her way through it, her skin had tingled when it came into contact with the magic. It had reminded her of an electric fence giving her a warning zap. Still, what was the harm?

  Pressing her hand against the opening, she stumbled slightly when it went straight through.

  The barrier was gone.

  Maybe Tristan had been super efficient and had come through on his word. Gabby must’ve shaped the limits of the magic to the patio, but she still felt uneasy even considering going against Nye’s wishes. Nye, who hadn’t said more than two words to her since they’d shared that unbelievably passionate kiss. Yeah, he’d sunk his fangs into her neck and she’d stabbed him with a pen, but her feeble human mind had held onto the part where he’d wanted her. Not for dinner but romantically.

  Ever since, she had wondered if she’d dreamed the conversations she’d had with him for all the care and affection he’d shown her. She was beginning to think he saw touching her as a mistake. Everything about the last two weeks had been the biggest stuff up of them all.

  She didn’t belong here, and her humanity had seen to that. She couldn’t help, she couldn’t leave, and she couldn’t even fight to save herself from that zombie. She felt useless and nothing but a burden. She didn’t belong, and Nye’s absence in the wake of such passion had done nothing but cement it.

  Isobel knew she was tempting fate, but she was so starved for human interaction and acceptance she stepped outside.

  Instantly, she felt the breeze on her face and closed her eyes, tilting her chin up to the sky, imagining the sun was beating down onto her pale skin. The moon would have to do for now, but it still felt glorious.

  The mansion was her prison, and the city outside was her salvation. Out here, she could find a place where someone wanted her instead of merely tolerating her presence. Out here, she was free.

  Squashing down the little voice in the back of her mind telling her to go back inside, she walked forward, putting one foot in front of the other. She ventured further out into the garden, testing the new limits of her world.

  Isobel found herself at the bottom of the garden before she realized. Standing underneath the impressive olive tree she’d admired from her bedroom window, she stared at the plaque at the base of the trunk and gasped.

  Regulus was buried underneath it. Like, right there. Why hadn’t anyone mentioned it? Even as the thought left her head, she knew the answer. No one had cared to tell her much of anything, so why should she be surprised.

  An overwhelming surge of loneliness welled up inside her, and she swallowed a sob that had risen in her throat. She didn’t know what to do anymore. Her life was a total shambles. She’d missed two weeks of classes and appointments with her thesis advisor, and there was no way she was catching up now. She’d tried to keep studying, but she needed to be in Oxford at the University library. If she wasn’t wanted, then why couldn’t she just go home? Really, what did she have to go back to now, anyway?

  She pulled in a shaky breath and stared down at the ground where Regulus was buried. She bet he didn’t have this kind of problem. He’d probably just taken whatever he wanted because he was an immortal asshole.

  “Isobel?”

  Gasping, she turned on her heel and stumbled against the trunk of the olive tree as her gaze collided with an unknown woman. She was lingering in the darkness like a creeper, a hoodie pulled up over her head. Even in the dark, Isobel could see the woman’s hair was long and wild, the hood hardly containing the mess of curls. She was tiny, but there was something about her she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

  “Who are you?” she asked, giving her the once-over. Damn, the stranger was supermodel thin in her skinny jeans and had the thigh gap going on and everything.

  “I’m Eleanor,” the woman declared, removing her hood.

  Isobel stepped backward, her heart beginning to pound. If she was the Unhallowed witch who was responsible for all the carnage, then she was in real trouble.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” she said, holding up her hands. “I just wanted the chance to talk to you.”

  “Talk to me?” Isobel asked. “Why on earth do I matter? I’m just a human.”

  She smiled. “Because Nye loves you.”

  She drew in a shaky breath and stared the witch down. If she was trying to intimidate the poor little human, she was in for a rude awakening. “That may be the case,” she said. “And if he does, then what’s stopping you from using me to get to him? Nothing. Then just do what you’re going to do, Eleanor. I know I have no chance in hell of going up against you and winning. I’m just a plain human with nothing but my sharp wit to protect myself with.”

  Eleanor smiled widely and laughed. “I can see it now. What he sees in you. It was the same thing he saw in me.”

  She frowned and really wished she had the foresight to bring a knife with her from the kitchen. “What are you talking about?”

  “Didn’t he tell you? We were in love once…until he cut off my head. It’s a cruel way to break it off with a woman, don’t you think?”

  “He… He…” She was a fool to think he’d never been with another woman before, but Eleanor? He’d loved her? It was totally irrational, but she felt a hot spike of jealousy stab right through her heart. Why did she even care anymore? Nye didn’t even want her for her. He sure loved sucking on her neck but had dropped her the moment he realized what he’d done. She was Alex’s sister, and apparently, that made her off limits.

  Eleanor stepped closer. “He hasn’t told you the whole story, Isobel. What is love without truth?”

  Yeah, what was love without truth? There hadn’t been much of that since the day she’d arrived.

  “Come,” the witch said, taking her hand. “We have much to discuss.”

  “Well, that was a bust,” Gabby declared as she stood beside Nye on the footpath. “It’s like these people don’t even exist.”

  Nye had accompanied Gabby as she followed a lead on the Unhallowed. Apparently, the witch who ran the occult shop in this posh little corner of London was something of a witchy almanac. That was short for she was a know-it-all. Being a vampire, Nye was forced to wait outside like a commoner with no regard for who he was…which was the leader of the London vampires, and don’t you forget it.

  “So she wasn’t as smart as she claimed,” he drawled, glaring at the shop window full of crystals, dream catchers, and cheap dragon statues. The moment the door had opened, the stink of incense had almost made him retch.

  “She’s smarter than you,” Gabby retorted, glaring at him. “But we’re talking about witches who have somehow turned themselves into wraiths.”

  “Supposedly,” he interjected.

  “Supposedly,” she snap
ped. “Either way, we’re talking about something that hasn’t existed for a thousand years. Knowledge can fade to myth and then to nothing given enough time.” She turned on her heel and began walking away.

  Nye fell into step beside her, sulking over many things, including their lack of a lead against the Unhallowed, but what he’d done to Isobel bothered him most of all.

  Stopping beside a sleek, black car, Gabby wrenched open the back door before the driver had a chance to get out and open it for her. Sliding inside, Nye sighed and reluctantly followed.

  Now that Gabby was home, the driver and the car had been put back into use. It was one of Regulus’s vices that hadn’t quite carried over to him. It belonged to the witch, along with everything else the Roman had accumulated in his two thousand years. Nye had never thought it important to grow wealth, so he didn’t feel the need to use hers to get to where he was going. Literally.

  Gabby buried her nose in her grimoire the entire trip back to the mansion, leaving him to stew in his own juices. Eleanor projecting herself into his lack of dreams was creepy enough, but what Tristan had suggested to him pissed him off even more. Talking to him like a relationship counselor. Like the knight would know shit about love. He’d been pining over Aya for a thousand years, and she’d fallen for Zac and left her companion out to dry. Why should he take Tristan’s advice? It was obviously flawed.

  Climbing out the car as it came to a stop, he held the door open for Gabby and allowed her to walk ahead. He would have to clear the air with Isobel sooner or later. Perhaps he should explain a few things to her this evening while Gabby continued her search. He should explain to the human girl why it was a terrible idea to allow herself to love a monster like him.

  “Nye!”

  His head snapped up at the sound of Gabby’s panicked cry. The witch was standing by the front door, staring into the house, and his dead heart stopped beating for a sickening moment.

  Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

  “The barrier is gone,” Gabby said, stepping into the house.