Page 37 of Dance of the Phoenix (Cloak of the Vampire #3)

Ragnor

Calling Alby’s a motel was quite the stretch. The old vine-wrapped building seemed more like a haunted house from horror movies than anything remotely close to being inhabitable by actual people.

Bracing himself, Ragnor pushed the almost-unhinged entrance door and went into the motel.

Surprisingly enough, the inside wasn’t as bad as the outside. Sure, it was dusty and in dire need of cleaning, but it was orderly, with a front desk staffed by a woman wearing a suit.

The woman peered at him as he approached the counter. “Vampire,” she drawled, startling Ragnor. “It’s been a while since I last saw one’a y’all.”

Sniffing the air, Ragnor realized why she knew what he was. “Nymph,” he said quietly, studying the woman’s face. She wasn’t pretty enough to be a tree nymph—a Dryad —or a water nymph—a Naiad . Which left one option. “Of the Oreads, I believe.”

The nymph shot him a toothy smile that made her seem more like a goblin than an actual nymph. “Formerly,” she said, “but true. You must be one of them Lords, then.”

Ragnor decided to neither confirm nor deny, so instead, he said, “While seeing a nymph in the middle of an urban area is definitely an intriguing mystery, I’m here on business.”

She arched a brow. “Get on with it, then.”

“Point me to the direction of room two oh four.” Ragnor cut to the chase.

The nymph grinned. “That girl’s sure wild,” she cackled. “First, that hottie Malachi, and now a sexy Lord vamp. What a naughty girl.”

Losing his patience, Ragnor simply asked, “Well?”

She nodded toward the elevator doors near the counter. “Take those to the second floor,” she said and pushed an old rusty key toward him. “The room’s right there. The girl’s probably knocked out, so here ya go.”

Ragnor took the key, nodded to the nymph, and reluctantly approached the elevator. When he pressed the button, the elevator made odd sounds that made Ragnor think that perhaps he should take the stairs instead.

But he knew there was a reason the nymph had directed him to the elevator and nowhere else.

Now that he was here, Ragnor realized this was one of those alleged “sanctuaries” for the supernatural.

These places were rare, especially in large cities like Houston; they were usually hidden in the countryside or along abandoned roads, pretending to be normal inns.

All for the sake of survival, of course.

These places, however, were also home to some dangerous supernatural species. That might’ve been the reason why he probably couldn’t take the stairs.

The elevator doors opened, revealing a tiny compartment that barely fit him. He had to hold his breath the entire rocky ride to the second floor. An eternity later, the door opened again, and Ragnor stepped out, relieved.

The corridor was dark and ominous, not to mention stinky and dirty, with cobwebs evident even in the dim lights. Thankfully, Ragnor didn’t need to go far to get to room 204, since it was right near the elevator.

Ragnor didn’t bother knocking; he shoved the key into the hole, and the door clicked open. He pushed it and, ignoring the strong smell of mildew, entered the room.

It could’ve passed for a proper motel room had it not been for the heavy dust in the air that made Ragnor want to both sneeze and cough. Waving the dust away, he squinted his eyes to peer into the room, trying to figure out where the bed was through the dust-filled fog.

He found the bed and Eliza lying on top of it, as the nymph had predicted, passed out.

Ragnor couldn’t help but feel sympathy for her, despite everything.

Usually, she looked like a healthy woman in her twenties (despite being double that age), with a pretty face.

The only out-of-place thing about her, normally, was the eye patch over her left eye and the scar running down to her neck from beneath that patch.

But lying in this dump, she looked far younger and more vulnerable than Ragnor had ever seen her.

He knew now why Luceras wanted to retrieve her. The last time they’d met, he had already been aware she was on the run after committing some sort of a crime. But seeing her now, so exhausted that her guard was completely down, he knew things had gotten even worse for her somehow.

Grimly, he gently put her unconscious body over his back. He then looked around the foggy room until he found her dirty, worn-out satchel she took with her everywhere and put it over his shoulder. Then he left, ordering the elevator yet again.

It arrived with a concerning creak, and he entered it, barely fitting himself, the satchel, and Eliza in the minuscule compartment. But with effort he managed—though he was squished against the disgustingly dirty door—and the elevator descended back to the lobby.

Unfortunately, when he stepped out, he saw three men with brightly colored wings spreading out of their backs standing at the counter.

Ragnor recognized them at once. They were the Seraphim guards, the elite soldiers of the Malachi who were chosen to protect the Seraphim, the leaders of the Malachi.

He couldn’t help but wonder, not for the first time, what the hell had Eliza done that warranted such a persistent hunt from the normally unflappable Malachi?

The guards swiveled their heads toward him simultaneously, and deadly tension filled the air.

Ragnor knew running would be futile. As much as he hated to admit it, the Malachi were faster. That left him one option, which he really did not like.

“ Deveran ,” the Malachi in the middle said, staring at him emotionlessly despite having just used a derogatory term. “Hand over Eliza Wains.”

He glanced at the nymph. She seemed curious about what was going on yet unafraid of the possible fight that could come. Forever loving gossip, those nymphs, Ragnor thought in disgust.

Returning his gaze to the Malachi who’d spoken, Ragnor said calmly, “Not going to happen.”

The Malachi stared at him impassively as he commanded, “Get her.”

The moment the other guards jumped toward him, Ragnor’s decision was made. And before they could reach him, Ragnor reached for the aether and drew the one power he had left from a time he’d rather have forgotten.

He managed to see the guards’ eyes rounding in surprise before everything blurred, and he, along with Eliza and her satchel, were phased into a dark hallway that opened toward a desk with two men wearing butler suits.

Before he could forget, he murmured, “Take us to my room.” Before the exhaustion following caused him to succumb to oblivion.