Page 117 of Twilight Destiny

Kincaid stared at his phone. As eager as he was to get this whole mess over with, he was dreading it at the same time. There was no guarantee of success for any of them.

Izabela opened the door with the usual question. “Do either of you mean me any harm?” She was dressed all in black today, Kincaid noted, as if to remind them of what she was. As if he could forget. He had felt her dark power every time he entered the place, but never more so than now. A glance at Saintcrow showed he was aware of it, too.

“Maybe that’s a question we should be asking you,” the master vampire remarked.

Her gaze bored into him. “Spare me your insolence.”

“Hey, it’s a fair question,” Saintcrow retorted. “And the answer to yours is no.”

She stepped back to allow them entrance. “Are you both prepared to pay the price?”

Saintcrow glanced at Kincaid, then shrugged.

The witch made a vague gesture with her hands and a small glass bottle appeared in each one.

“Payment in advance this time?” Kincaid asked.

“Do you object?”

“I guess not,” he said, and bit into his wrist.

Muttering an oath, Saintcrow did likewise.

A look Kincaid could not interpret flitted over the witch’s face as she watched the thick, dark red liquid fill the containers. He wondered suddenly if she drank the blood. It was said to lengthen the life of mortals. Perhaps it worked on witches, too.

Izabela capped the bottles and tucked them into her skirt pocket. She left the room for a moment and when she returned, she offered Kincaid a small ebony box. It was square, the top intricately carved with Celtic runes and zodiac signs. “If you can capture his soul inside this, he will be helpless.”

“How does it work?”

“As soon as he is between hosts, open the box and command him to enter. If I have performed the spell properly, he will be compelled to do so. Once locked inside, no one will be able to open the box, including the two of you.”

“And if you haven’t done it right?” Kincaid asked.

“Magic doesn’t come with guarantees.”

“That’s no answer.”

“If the spell fails, he will seek the nearest host. The talismans I made for the two of you should repel him.”

“Then what? His spirit will wander around until it finds a new host?”

“It depends on how strong he is. If he is denied a host for more than twenty-four hours, his spirit will return to his own body.”

“But that was destroyed in a fire,” Kincaid said.

“Nothing is ever completely destroyed,” she said. “His spirit will be compelled to seek whatever is left, wherever it may be.”

“What happens then?” Kincaid asked.

“If he is strong enough, if he can find some small part of his ashes, his spirit might be able to survive in what’s left for a short time.Ifhe is strong enough.”

“Well, hell,” Saintcrow muttered. “No guarantees is right.”

Saintcrow shook his head as they left the witch’s house. “We’re putting a lot of faith in a black witch and a little black box.”

“She’s never failed me yet.”

“Yeah? Well, there’s a first time for everything.”