Half-breed’s Bargain by Samantha Wolfe
24
HARLOW
Have I mentioned how much Anson hates vampires? Well, his hatred for all things bloodsucker related definitely falls into the shoot first, ask questions later category, which is why a ball of vampire-killing UV fire is currently flying at Ameera’s chest. Who could blame him, considering a vampire savagely attacked his sister, and left her with permanent scars on her face and her psyche? And while I couldn't care less if there’s one less fanged freak in the world, especially one who was intimately familiar with my man at one time, I’m pretty sure Van would have a problem with Anson snuffing out his ex-girlfriend.
Fortunately, Ameera is one fast motherfucker and darts aside with inhuman speed just before the fireball reaches her. It slams against the brick wall just behind her in a brief explosion of bright white sparks before it winks out.
“Solis!” Anson shouts as he lifts a hand to attack her yet again, but I lunge forward and grab him in a bear hug, forcing his arms down to his sides so he can’t fling another magical firebomb at Ameera. He snarls in rage and struggles against my hold, but he’s no match for my preternatural strength.
I hear another snarl and look over to see Ameera charging toward us with her eyes blackened with bloodlust and her features twisted with rage. I brace for her attack, but Ethan and Mercer are close enough to converge on her before she reaches us. They latch onto her arms and barely restrain her a few yards away from us, with her teeth snapping in the air and any hint of civility gone from her demeanor.
“Let me go so I can fry this bloodsucking bitch!” Anson barks out as he works even harder to get loose.
“Not if I drain the life out of you first, you fucking arsehole!” Ameera shouts back, her British accent even thicker than normal. I can tell it’s all Ethan and Mercer can do to hold her back.
More insults fly between the two of them as each struggles to free themselves until Van steps between them with a scowl.
“Enough!” he shouts over the mage and the vampire, his eyes glittering silver as he fixes his gaze on Anson. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but Ameera is not your enemy.”
“She’s a vampire,” Anson replies. “Isn’t that reason enough? She deserves to die.”
“You don’t even know me,” Ameera seethes, her eyes still pitch black.
“What’s there to know?” Anson asks, no longer struggling, but still quaking with anger as his magic crackles along my skin. “Your kind are all vicious murdering monsters who prey on the innocent.”
“I’ve killed no one who didn’t have it coming,” Ameera tells him. “Not even after I was freshly turned. My sire made sure of that.”
“Yeah, right,” Anson replies. “That’s as likely as the sun not frying your ass. You can’t tell me you never lost control and drained one of your victims.”
“I’ll vouch for Ameera,” Van says, interrupting their heated argument. “We were involved fifty years ago in a relationship that lasted for almost a decade. In all that time, I never once witnessed her lose control while feeding from her donors, who were all willing, by the way. She harmed none of them to my knowledge, not even me.” He glances at me with a worried glint in his eyes at that last revelation, most likely thinking I’ll react to it with violent jealousy.
Now, I’m not keen on the idea of any bloodsucker feeding off my man, especially if it feels as good as it’s rumored to be. I’ve even heard you can climax from being fed on by a vampire who feels so inclined to make the feeding pleasurable. I am jealous to a point, but for some reason, I’m not feeling particularly murderous about it, just annoyed. It’s as if embracing anam amháin and our mating bond has settled my possessiveness to a more manageable level.
“If Van vouches for her, then so do I,” I say, easing Van’s worried frown and causing Anson to stiffen in my grasp.
“Seriously?” he says as he turns his head to stare at me with wide eyes. “You believe this bloodsucker?”
I nod. “I trust Van,” I say with certainty. “If he says she’s cool, then I believe it. Besides,” I add with a hard expression, “we don’t have time for this shit. Destroying the ring is our priority here. Remember? And we need all the help we can get, even from a bloodsucker.” I shoot a smirk at Ameera. “No offense.” Okay, so maybe I am a little more jealous than I thought with that little dig.
Ameera gives me a fang-filled smile that doesn’t reach her still blackened eyes. “None taken,” she lies, then glares at Anson again. “I’m willing to call a truce for the greater good, are you?” Her voice drips with contempt. “Or would you rather let the entire bloody world burn because of your prejudice?”
Alright, I kind of like Ameera’s biting brand of verbal sparring when it’s not directed at me or Van. Plus, she has a point. I mean, I’ve done some pretty despicable things, and I’m sure Anson is well aware of the rumors going around about me and the things I’ve done. Yet he gave me the benefit of the doubt when I explained my circumstances to him. I also have violent tendencies that I’m constantly battling to control every day, and yet he trusts me. I know he has good reason to hate on vampires, but seriously dude, this is not the time.
“How do we know she won’t spill all our plans to Lynch as soon as she gets a chance?” he asks.
“I have no loyalty to that monster,” Ameera says.
“Ha!” Anson replies in a bitter tone. “That’s rich. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.”
“Let it go, Anson,” I say, my voice firm. “Please,” I add more quietly.
He meets my eyes and my pleading expression finally gets through to him. His body relaxes and his magic fades to its normal baseline hum. “Fine,” he says, his face stony as he glances at Ameera again. “I’ll honor a truce for tonight only, but after that I’ll fry her ass if I ever see her again.”
“Believe me,” Ameera replies, her eyes no longer black, but still glittering with anger. “Running into this maggot again isn’t on my list of priorities.” Her eyes narrow as she studies Anson with her lip curled in disdain. “But if I do, rest assured he won’t be the one to survive that confrontation.”
Anson stiffens again at Ameera’s words, his magic welling up again as he opens his mouth to spew what I assume will be another spell or more threats and insults.
“That’s enough!” Van shouts again, his voice a deep growl and his eyes blazing a vivid silver. “There’s far too much at stake here, and we don’t have time for anymore delays. Either agree to the truce, or stay here and kill each other. I don’t fucking care which as long as you stop bickering like children.” He glares back and forth between Anson and Ameera with unyielding, flinty eyes, just daring one of them to open their mouths and piss him off even more.
“What he said,” I say as I grin at my man. To be honest, I’m a little turned on by his demeanor since it reminds me of how controlling he is in bed. Goddamn, I hope we survive the coming storm so we can have sex again soon. The man is an absolute beast when we fuck, and I’ll never get enough of him.
Anson has the good sense to look chagrined and relaxes, his magic receding again. “I accept a truce for tonight,” he says in an even tone.
“As do I,” Ameera agrees with a stiff nod and stops pulling against Ethan and Mercer’s hold on her.
Van glances between them with narrowed eyes for a moment, then nods. “Very well,” he says. “We need to go. Ameera rides with me and the boys. Harlow, Anson’s with you.”
I grin. My man is smart. He can’t afford to have Anson and Ameera in the same vehicle together, but he doesn’t want to risk irking me off by being alone with her.
Ethan tosses me the keys to his truck, and we all move to our respective vehicles. Anson and I climb into the enormous truck and take off out of the alley and fall in line behind Van’s Mercedes as we head for Móira’s estate. We ride in silence for a few minutes before Anson speaks.
“He’s going to sacrifice himself for you,” he says, avoiding discussing his over-the-top reaction to Ameera like I expected.
“I know,” I say with a shrug, still staring at the road ahead without elaborating.
“And you’re just going to let him?” he asks.
I glance over at his incredulous expression and grin. “You know me better than that.”
He gives me a long, assessing stare before speaking again. “You’re going to kill Móira the Gray, aren’t you?”
“I can neither confirm nor deny that,” I reply with a smirk.
He rolls his eyes and snorts out a laugh. “What can I do to help?”
I widen my eyes. “You’re not going to try to stop me, or tell me I’m insane and that I’m going to get myself killed?”
“Would it make a difference if I did?”
“Hell fucking no.”
He shakes his head, still smiling. “Then there’s no point, so I might as well give you a fighting chance against her.”
He reaches down between his feet to unzip his duffel bag and pulls something out of it. He straightens and holds something up for me to see. I glance over for a quick look at it. It’s a small glass bottle with its mouth sealed shut with red wax. Inside it white smoke swirls around a bunch of darker indistinct shapes. It’s actually kind of creepy.
“What the hell is that?” I ask as I focus on the road again.
“Think of it as a magical flash-bang grenade. You toss that puppy anywhere near a supernatural being, and they won’t be able to do shit long enough for you to get in close and take them out.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Why have I never heard of those before?”
He grins with a smug glint in his eyes. “Because it’s my latest creation.”
I shake my head, unsurprised since the man loves tinkering with potions and spells. “Have you even tested it out?”
“On myself just the other day,” he answers. “It knocked me out for a few seconds, and I couldn’t conjure shit for about a minute afterward.”
“Will it work on the fae?” I ask. The fae are far more powerful than any human mage, even the least of them. I have to wonder if Anson’s latest creation will be strong enough to effect a fae as strong as Móira at all.
“It should work on the fae as well as it would work on any other supernatural being, accept for you of course.”
“Gee, that’s reassuring,” I say with an eye roll.
“What can I say?” he replies. “It’s not like I have a guinea pig for every magical creature on earth at my beck and call to try it out on. I’m confident in my work, but you should consider it a last resort for when things go to hell. And please warn me if I’m nearby before you use it, so I can throw up a shield.”
I huff out a breath. I guess I should be grateful to have more than just my natural immunity to magic, a few knives, and a gun as my only weapons against Móira, even if it’s a virtually untried spell. If the potion works, it’ll increase my chances of survival and of having a future with Van. I want that almost as much as I want him to have his freedom, but I really hope I can have both.
I take the bottle from Anson and tuck it into the inside pocket of my leather jacket. “Thank you,” I say with as much sincerity as I can muster.
He gives me a warm smile. “Well, I’d be a shitty friend if I didn’t at least try to give you a fighting chance to make it out of this alive. I kind of like having you around, you know?” He leans over to bump his shoulder against mine. “And you’re welcome.”
I nod, and then we lapse into a comfortable silence for the rest of the ride to Móira’s estate. I want to ask him about his violent reaction to Ameera, but I don’t want to ruin our little emotional moment or put a damper on my fleeting optimism. I’m sure it’ll be ruined soon enough, like usual.
Van pulls off onto the shoulder of the road that runs along Móira’s property line, stops the car, and I park right behind him. We all get out of our vehicles, and Van, the boys, and Ameera split up to scout the nearby area for any potential trouble, while I stay with Anson to guard him while he works his locating spell.
Anson carries his duffel bag over to a clear area of dirt next to the road with me trailing along behind. He unzips the bag and takes out a small leather pouch. Then he opens it and pours a line of white sand onto the ground, using it to draw a scarily precise circle of about five or six feet in diameter. Then he reaches into the duffel bag once again and pulls out a stone, a feather, a small stump of a candle, and a sand dollar. Each item represents the four elements, earth, wind, fire, and water. He places them at equal distance along the spell circle’s circumference, then sits cross-legged in the center. He closes his eyes and goes still with his hands resting on his knees. A second later, I sense Anson’s power rising to tingle along my skin as he murmurs in Latin. Another few seconds pass as his magic pulses and flutters in the air a few times. I know from experience that he’s searching with his magical senses, most likely looking for the ring and Móira herself. I plan on killing her first and fetching the ring after. Suddenly, he sucks in a violent breath, scaring the crap out of me. Then he opens his eyes and turns to look at me, his expression bleak.
“We have a problem,” he whispers.
“What?” I ask, that fleeting optimism I was holding onto now wisping away into nothingness before Anson even answers my question.
“Móira isn’t here.”