fOR WHO THE spELL tOLLS

  “As I’m sure you’re all aware, I’m subbing for Christina,” he said.

  “I can’t believe Melchior fed her Blueliss,” Erica whispered to Rachel, who shook her head in agreement to the latest revelation. Blueliss was an illegal narcotic capable of voiding the user’s memories. In the process, Melchior managed to imprint his own will upon Christina, thereby coercing her into revealing all our secrets.

  “I’m afraid to say that the time for staging a game plan is over,” Knight continued. “It’s now time to take action.”

  “What does that mean?” Fagan inquired accusatorily.

  “It means we must invade the Netherworld now,” I answered.

  “Balls!” Trey exclaimed, his eyes wide as he shook his head in apparent surprise.

  Dia nodded while Sam’s mouth dropped open and Erica’s gum bubble snapped against her lips.

  “Are we ready for this?” Fagan continued.

  “We have no other choice,” Knight replied, his lips in a steel-like line and his eyes discouraging argument.

  “MJ and I can rally our soldiers as soon as we need to,” Erica offered. Seeing as how she’d stopped chomping her gum, I half wondered if the shock of Knight’s announcement made her accidentally swallow it.

  “I believe an enforceable draft should be demanded of all eligible creatures,” Fagan added, holding his chin up high in a rendition of “I’m right and no one better argue with me.”

  “A draft?” Dia repeated.

  Fagan nodded. “Anyone of age, who can use his or her magic must be recruited; otherwise, we have no chance in Hades of defeating Melchior.”

  “When this meeting is dismissed, Erica and MJ, please rally the soldiers,” Knight said, then turning to Fagan, he continued, “A draft should be instituted immediately.” Knight took a deep breath. “And I agree; any creatures of age who are capable enough should be recruited.”

  “When are you planning this attack?” Quill suddenly piped up from behind me. At the same time, I could feel his hands on my shoulders as he began massaging them. I was so surprised, I didn’t even react.

  Knight didn’t respond right away. Instead, his eyes settled on Quill’s hands like a hawk on a field mouse. Half a second later, his eyes narrowed and a familiar, whitish glow started to eclipse his irises. I could see his hands closing into fists.

  I managed to wiggle my way out of Quill’s hold and leaned forward a bit in an effort to deter him from touching me again. It was a strange show of affection on his part, since he’d never rubbed my shoulders before. It just felt awkward and forced—like he was deliberately going out of his way to piss Knight off. I glanced back at Knight, who was still glaring at Quill, and cleared my throat, urging Knight to get on with it.

  He dropped his murderous gaze from Quill and seemed to study the floor for a second or two. Then, after apparently remembering what he was in the middle of discussing, he glanced back up again. This time, his eyes returned to normal and his hands were no longer balled into fists.

  “We have two days,” he said simply.

  “Two days!” Fagan exclaimed in disbelief.

  “That’s not much time,” Rachel said, eyeing Knight with worry.

  “Double balls!” Trey choked, a definite look of trepidation in his eyes.

  “Two days isn’t enough time,” Quill protested. He walked around the couch and took a seat on the armrest, just beside Sam. “You’re planning on fighting the Netherworld Guard. Do you have any idea of the threat they pose?”

  Knight continued to glare at the elf. “I am very aware of the threat they pose. Let me remind you that I spent the majority of my life training in the Netherworld.”

  Quill quirked an unimpressed brow. “Then it should be obvious that this is a complete fool’s mission.”

  “Quill, we have no other choice,” I said and swallowed hard, seeing how this wasn’t going exactly well. “Melchior already knows too much. The longer we wait, the greater the risk for us.”

  “We act now,” Knight repeated with fortified resolve. “And if you aren’t with us, you’re against us, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Lose the attitude, beefcakes,” Quill shot back. “I’m on your side.”

  At the term “beefcakes,” I winced because I knew Knight wouldn’t appreciate the title.

  “For your information, Beaurigard,” the Loki started as he took a step forward. His tone of voice was frostily reserved. “The only reason you’re here is because Dulcie insisted on it. If I had things my way, you’d still be behind bars.”

  I could only eye Quill’s profile from where I sat on the couch, but I distinctly saw his furrowed eyebrows, which only intensified the scowl on his face. “Well, then, I guess I have Dulce to thank, don’t I?”

  “Enough,” I said, holding my hands up in surrender. “These conversations are tiresome, and they don’t get us any closer to our goal.”

  “You’re both manly men, okay? We get it,” Erica added, shaking her head in frustration. She turned to Rachel and added, “Men! Chicks never pull this much crap.”

  “I guess some things don’t change,” Rachel said as she glanced at Knight and shook her head. Yep, the familiarity between the two was definitely irritating to say the least.

  “Woo-hoo is there some testosterone in the room!” Dia said with a smile as she fanned herself with her hand. Then, turning to Quill, she said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Sexy Elf, but my money’s on the Loki.”

  “As I was saying,” Knight continued, even though he slipped Dia a quick smile, “we have two days to rally the soldiers and get the draft into effect. It shouldn’t be too great a feat, Fagan, considering everyone is already assembled in the Compounds.”

  “Don’t concern yourself with the particulars,” Fagan replied stonily. “I was aptly chosen for my post, and you will have your drafted participants when you require them.”

  Knight didn’t say anything more, but simply nodded.

  “Quill, we’re going to need you to help us too,” I said in a soft voice, glancing at my old friend. “You need to teach us to think like my father thinks.”

  He looked at me and smiled warmly, lending his handsome face a soft expression. “I will help you however I can. You know that, Dulce.”

  I nodded. “You play a big part because you know my father better than any of us. That’s why I insisted on your participation.”

  Quill sighed as he rubbed the blond stubble on his chin. “Well, I do and I don’t know your father well. Yes, I’ve been working for him for many years, but your father is a master in the art of surviving and that’s not by accident. He knows how to keep people close without letting them get too close.”

  I was spared the chance to respond when there was a loud knock on the door. I immediately eyed Knight, since I had no clue who would be calling, especially so late at night. But the Loki also wore a blank expression. When I scanned the other people in the room, I noticed everyone shared the same general look of bewildered surprise. As far as we knew, with the obvious exception of Christina, The Resistance team was already present and accounted for. Furthermore, we were assembled out in the middle of nowhere, so who in hell would be visiting now?

  I stood up, intending to answer the door, but Knight’s voice stopped me. “No, Dulce,” he said in a tone that forbade me to argue with him. Then he walked past me, to see to our visitor himself. Abandoning any argument, since it wasn’t worth waging, (hey, it was his house) I just sighed and watched him open the door.

  “What a shame that I was not invited to your little rendezvous,” Bram’s accent rang out. The dashing vampire sidestepped Knight and showed himself into the living room. He was wearing black slacks and a navy blue, knitted sweater that looked especially impressive next to the pitch black of his hair. As soon as he entered the room, a draft of air followed him, which enveloped me in Bram’s unique scent. It was something very clean, but with a hint of earthiness.

  “How the hell did you find us?” Knight asked in an acid
tone. He closed the door behind him, though, so I figured he figured Bram’s visit wouldn’t be a short one.

  Bram took turns smiling at each of the women in the room, his eyes settling on Rachel a little longer than was polite, before addressing the furious Loki. “Quite simple, my brutish friend.”

  At the mention of Knight as Bram’s “brutish friend,” I had to laugh. Hearing Sam and Erica also giggling from the corner of the room, I wasn’t the only one to see the humor in Bram’s description of Knight.

  “I tracked my phone, which still resides in our lovely fairy’s possession,” Bram finished. He extended his manicured hand, inspecting his nails as he smiled with visible pride.

  Damn, I’d forgotten about the fact that I’d put Bram’s cell phone in my pocket. I reached down to feel the lump in my jeans pocket, the sure reminder that it was really still there. And, yes, it was.

  “You aren’t welcome here,” Knight said.

  “I realize you and I do not run in quite the same circles,” Bram answered with a phony smile. He turned away from Knight and began approaching all of us. When he strode past Erica, she wolf-whistled to Dia, who just nodded her silent agreement that even though Bram was more than aware of it; he was pretty hot.

  Bram walked over to the fireplace and pretended to warm his hands in front of the fire. It was really all for show, because as a vampire, he was perpetually cold. No amount of outside warmth had any impact on his internal temperature. He stopped walking when he was just beside Trey. The hobgoblin remained seated on the hearth, gazing up at Bram with what appeared to be admiration.

  “Hiya,” Trey said with a bucktoothed smile.

  Glancing down at Trey, Bram half-smiled, doing little to conceal his distaste. He then patted Trey on the head as though he were a trusted, St. Bernard wearing a little, red, emergency tankard of Schnapp’s secured to his collar. I rolled my eyes at Bram’s nerve, but spared a comment when his piercing eyes found mine.

  “I have information that all of you will, no doubt, find useful,” he said, his English accent sounding particularly heavy. He again allowed his gaze to settle on Rachel, his expression one of: “How you doin’?”

  “Where is Christina?” Fagan demanded with a skeptical frown, making it more than obvious that Bram wasn’t surrounded by any supporters.

  Bram arched an irritated brow in Fagan’s direction before facing me again. “Your leader is safe, you may all rest assured. She is recuperating from the effects of the drug Melchior forced upon her.” Then, shaking his head like the whole situation was a big shame, he pretended to give a damn about Christina’s well-being.

  “Don’t think any of us trusts you for one second,” Knight continued, his eyes narrowed and angry. “I have a mind to tell you just what I think about you working for Melchior this entire time.”

  “With Melchior, kind sir, not for,” Bram corrected him immediately, wearing a placid grin although his eyes burned. “I have never worked for anyone, save myself.”

  “Regardless, Dulcie trusted you, and you not only lied to her the whole time, but you lied to all of us,” Knight continued, studying the vampire with undisguised aversion. “The ANC doesn’t regard liars and manipulators well.”

  Bram averted his eyes from Knight’s less-than-thrilled countenance and looked at me again. “I have always valued Dulcie’s trust in me, and I have never harmed my sweet,” he replied. “And as to the ANC, I come here now with my proverbial tail between my legs.”

  “Ha! Your tail between your legs?” Dia laughed as she shook her head. “That’ll be a fine day when Bram’s tail goes between his legs.”

  Yep, I had to agree. If there was one thing I knew about Bram, it was that any and everything he did never included his tail between his legs. It was more appropriate to say that Bram didn’t participate in anything that didn’t suit his own ends. He was and always had been a narcissist, around whom the world revolved, in his opinion anyway.

  “I realize the time for choosing sides is now upon me,” Bram continued and winked at me, hinting to the fact that I was the one who forced him into finally revealing his cards and choosing which side he was on—ours or my father’s. “My appearance here this evening, I hope you all realize, is testimony that I have chosen you.”

  “What the hell does …?” Knight started, but Bram interrupted him.

  “And now, as I strive to benefit my brethren from the Netherworld, I come bearing gifts—gifts in the form of privileged information.”

  Beware of Bram bearing gifts echoed through my head.

  “Then out with it,” Knight said. “Whatever the hell you have to offer us, you better get to it because I’m not a patient man.” He took a deep breath, and his lips curled angrily. “And when it involves spineless, manipulative bloodsuckers, I’m even less tolerant.”

  Bram smiled at Knight as if the Loki had just announced Bran won the title of “Sexiest Man Alive” (or Not Alive in Bram’s case). Then slapping his hands together with an eager expression, he faced me again.

  “Very good, my dear, sweet Dulcie, please accompany me.” He held his arm out as he approached me. At the same time, Knight stepped between both of us, confronting Bram. Less than three inches of air separated the two, and they were about the same height, although Knight was definitely broader.

  “She’s not going anywhere with you,” Knight spat out. “Whatever you have to say, say it now and make it quick. You’ve already overstayed your welcome.”

  Bram chuckled lightly before tsking and shaking his head. “As the information I possess remains mine, I shall divulge it, when, how and to whom I see fit.”

  “Knight, just let him tell me whatever he needs to tell me,” I argued dejectedly. Bram was about pomp and circumstance and the sooner everyone realized the only way to get what they wanted from him was to play his game, the better.

  “No,” Knight said, shaking his head. “I’m tired of allowing him to play his little games.” He faced Bram. “You’re in my house now and you’ll play by my rules.”

  “Your home, is it?” Bram looked around himself, with a feigned mask of surprise. “Although I find it a bit barbarian for my taste, it certainly seems to suit you nicely.”

  “Enough!” I said for the second time that evening. I shook my head in exasperation because both men were, in a word, maddening. “Bram, whatever you have to say to me, say it quickly. I’ve had to deal with more machismo than I can handle today.”

  Bram nodded and sidestepped Knight, offering me his arm again. “Please allow me to escort you to the door, my dear.”

  Knight grumbled something indecipherable as I walked with Bram to the door. When we were out of earshot, Bram stopped walking and held the doorknob as he faced me. “You continue to breach our contract,” he started.

  I sighed long and hard, remembering the contract we’d made prior to visiting the Netherworld. I’d pledged to dine with Bram five times in return for his accompaniment (and protection) in the Netherworld. I still owed him three dinner dates.

  “You want to do dinner?” I asked with a frown since I didn’t feel like I had enough time period, let alone wasting it on Bram.

  “Yes, my dear, I would like that very much.”

  As he glanced down at my jeans and long-sleeved shirt, his expression turned to one of repugnance. “Unfortunately, I failed to remember to procure a gown for you. I suppose that … outfit will have to suffice.” Then another idea occurred to him and he suggested, “Unless you would prefer to dine naked?”

  “Holy Hades no,” I grumbled, shaking my head. Yes, I could have created anything Bram wanted with my magic but if he didn’t remember as much, I wasn’t about to remind him. “When do you want to leave?”

  “Now, Sweet. I hunger for your … company.”

  I turned to Knight who was fast approaching me. “What does he want?” he asked, glaring viciously at the vampire.

  “I have to go to dinner with him.”

  “What?” Knight ground out. “What the
fuck for?”

  “Because I agreed to do it a long time ago and if I don’t, I’m in breach of contract.”

  Knight shook his head. “Who the fuck cares? As far as I’m concerned, any pacts you made with that bastard aren’t worth shit.”

  “And he has information for us that he won’t give us any other way,” I reminded him, throwing my hands on my hips.

  Knight shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck the way he did whenever he was frustrated. He sighed as he walked past me and addressed Bram. “You touch her and the only thing left of you will be your fangs.”

  “You are so poetic, my primitive friend. I ardently assure you I hold Sweet’s safety in my uppermost regard.”

  “Dulcie, keep that phone on,” Knight said, before he returned his full attention to Bram. “You have one hour, bloodsucker, and if she’s even half a second late, there will be hell to pay.”

  Bram nodded. “Very well. Sweet, it seems you must eat rapidly.”

  As he offered his arm again, I accepted it with stoic resignation.

  ###

  I took my seat across from Bram in the closest “restaurant” we could find, something that reminded me of a diner, only German-style. The plastic booth seats were red, to match the red, black and yellow tablecloths, the colors of the German flag. Due to our severe time constraints, we’d ended up here, but it was so busy, we had trouble getting a seat. After relying on his vampire persuasion, Bram accepted the hostess’s offer of the only available booth in the place. It happened to be in the corner of the restaurant, on the way to the kitchen. Consequently, Bram was inadvertently nudged in the shoulder twice by the hurried wait staff. After a bowl of scalding hot soup was nearly dumped over Bram’s head, the hapless waiter brought him an extra large serving of Spaetzle, and announced it was on the house.

  Of course, Bram, as a bloodsucker, was unimpressed by the Spaetzle. Instead, he began picking and examining it as if he were a finicky five-year-old inspecting a bowl of asparagus. For me however, I took great pleasure in witnessing the pretentious vampire crammed into a plastic booth with the sounds of Oompah music in the background. The icing on the cake, however, was the diner sitting at the table nearest us. Our tables were so close, the woman was less than five feet away from Bram. She looked like an Amazon: so tall, she dwarfed her chair, the table, and her dining partner, who was a small, mousey woman. She was easily the tallest woman I’d ever seen, and also incredibly broad. Her colossal size (I would have bet she was even taller than Bram) was owing to large bones and strong muscles though, and not from fat. Her platinum-blond hair was confined to a bun behind her head, pulled so tightly, it appeared to slant the corner of her eyes up. She had the look of someone whose hair had gotten caught in a pair of double doors.