Enchant the Night - Amanda Ashley Page 0,80

it won’t be that easy,” he sneered, closing the door behind him.

“Quill, go find Callie,” Ava said, never taking her gaze off the warlock. “I’ll handle this.”

With a nod, Quill vanished from the room.

“You don’t have a chance, witch,” the warlock said smugly. “You’re old and woefully out of practice.”

“So certain of that, are you?”

“Foolish woman! I can sense your weakness.”

“You’re the fool,” Ava retorted. “You see only what I want you to see.” She raised Callie’s wand as he began to chant softly. She knew immediately that although his magic was strong, he lacked her experience. As he summoned his power, intent on destroying her, she began to sing, the high-pitched notes weaving a spell around him, stealing his magic even as he tried—and failed—to steal hers.

The warlock let out a harsh cry of disbelief as his wand disintegrated, screamed in denial as the last of his magic drained away. Broken, defeated, he sank to his knees. “Don’t leave me like this,” he begged. “You’ve taken my magic. Take my life as well.”

“It’s ever so tempting,” Ava replied, “but I think not.” A flick of her wand and the warlock transformed into a large, black vulture with a slash of white on its head. Opening the door, she said, “Be gone.”

With a shriek, the bird took wing and flew out of the house.

“One down,” she said, brightly. “Five to go.”

* * *

Quill looked up when Ava entered the room where Callie was being held, his expression troubled. “I can’t rouse her.”

With a nod, Ava murmured a few words, then shook Callie’s shoulder. “Wake up, child.”

Callie’s eyelids fluttered open. She stared at her grandmother, certain she was dreaming until Ava leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

“Yes,” Ava said, smiling. “It’s really me.”

Callie sat up, eyes wide with disbelief. “How can you be here? They told me you were dead. I visited your grave.”

“I’ll explain it all to you at another time, dear. Right now, you and Quill need to get out of here.”

“What are you going to do?” Callie asked, frowning.

“Take care of the vampires, of course.”

“Leave that to me,” Quill said. “You take Callie home.”

Callie shook her head. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Yes, you are and right now. Ava, get her out of here.”

“Come along, dear,” Ava said, taking her hand. “Let the man do what has to be done.”

Callie stared at him. “Are you going to kill them in cold blood?”

“No. I’ll give them a better chance than they would have given us. And then I’ll destroy them.”

Before Callie could argue further, Ava led her out of the house.

* * *

Quill waited until the women were gone, then strode purposefully into the room where the four male vampires rested. Like all of their kind, they could wake from the Dark Sleep when their lives were in danger.

And they were definitely in danger.

He woke them one at a time by touching their shoulders.

They were all young vampires and as such, no match for his greater strength. But he gave each of them a fighting chance, easily countering their every move. He could have prolonged each battle, but he dispatched each one quickly and mercifully.

The scent of battle and fresh blood had roused Claret. She was waiting for him when he entered her room. She was older than the others, wiser, stronger.

She didn’t waste time asking how he had freed himself from the cage or why he had destroyed the others. Fangs bared, hands like claws, eyes red as the fires of an unforgiving hell, she sprang at him, needle-like fangs sinking deep into his left shoulder, ripping through muscle and flesh.

Cursing viciously, he wrapped his hands around her throat and held her at arm’s length. Kicking and scratching like a wildcat, she twisted free, pivoted on her heels, and flung herself at him again.

She let out an angry snarl when he ducked out of her way, then threw herself at him a third time, fangs tearing into the flesh of his neck, her tongue darting out to taste his blood even as she tried to destroy him.

He had never killed a woman—human or vampire—and found himself reluctant to kill this one.

Closing his mind to what he was about to do, he captured her head in his hands but before he could break her neck, Claret twisted out of his grasp and disappeared from sight.

Quill swore a vile oath as he pressed a hand to his wounded shoulder. She was even more powerful than he’d thought, he mused, and then he