Page 70 of Twilight Longings

“I’m not surprised,” he retorted.

Izabela shrugged. “It might come in handy someday.” She wore a bright green peasant blouse and a multi-colored, full-length skirt. Reaching into one of her voluminous pockets, she withdrew the Methuselah Stone.

Saintcrow leaned forward. The tiny vial set in the center of the Medallion, once filled with a sickly-green fluid, was now filled with blood. An indrawn breath told him it was Jake’s blood.

Clasping the Medallion in both hands, the witch began to chant in a foreign language that Saintcrow thought was ancient Egyptian. After a moment, she held the Medallion up by the chain. It swayed slowly back and forth. A froth of something that looked like thick white smoke surrounded her, only it was more substantial than smoke. Lifting her hand, she drew a map and beneath it a short string of words.

Saintcrow frowned. The words were also in Egyptian.

Abruptly, the smoke dissipated.

Eyes closed, Izabela let out a long, shuddering sigh as her head fell forward.

No one spoke.

After a tense five minutes, the witch looked up. “Kincaid is being held in the bowels of an ancient castle located on the coast of Ireland.”

“Ireland?” Ethan muttered. “What the hell is Luca doing there?”

“Is Jake all right?” Rosa asked anxiously.

“For the moment,” Izabela replied. “Although he is in a great deal of pain, unable to move or speak. The spell is similar to the curse Luca unleashed, only more terrible, as Kincaid is in agony all the time, not merely unconscious and unable to respond.”

“Will he remember me?” Rosa asked in a trembling voice.

“Perhaps,” Izabela said. “If he lives.”

Saintcrow glared at the witch. “Hey.”

“She needs to be prepared for the worst,” Izabela said, with a shrug. “Kincaid will most certainly be avenged if that wizard destroys him.”

“Damn right,” Saintcrow said, his gaze meeting that of the witch. “But I’ll be the one to make him pay.”

Ethan glanced from the witch to Saintcrow. “We have to find him first. Just because we know where Kincaid is doesn’t mean Luca is there.”

“True,” Saintcrow said. “But one thing at a time.”

“I’m ready to go when you are,” Micah said. “I haven’t been in a good fight in a long time.”

“I wouldn’t be so anxious if I were you,” Saintcrow muttered. He looked at Sofia, her brow furrowed at the thought of her brother going off to battle the necromancer. “Stop worrying,” he told her. “I’m going alone.”

“The hell you are,” Micah said.

Saintcrow held up a hand to quiet the protests he saw in the eyes of Kadie and the family. “One man might be able to slip in and out without much trouble. Two or three of us would be easier for Luca to sense.”

Kadie slipped up beside him and grasped his hand. “You can’t go alone.”

“He won’t be,” Izabela said. “I have the Medallion and I’m going with him.”

Saintcrow glared at her. “Says who?”

“Says me. You might be able to control all the vampires in Wyoming, Rylan Saintcrow, but you have no power over me. Or the Medallion.”

Saintcrow muttered an oath. Damn the woman. She was right, as always.

Figuring that Luca would be at his weakest early in the morning, Saintcrow and Izabela met on the bridge at Morgan Creek at 10 p.m. which would make it 4 a.m. when they reached Ireland.

“How do you want to do this?” Saintcrow asked.