“To you, maybe.” Liz stepped forward. “But it’s important to us.”

  “To twenty-first century do-gooders, maybe. Trust is not a huge priority when dealing with vampires.” Aya moved forward fluidly until she was directly in front of Liz. “Is it exhausting holding onto so much of your humanity? Denying what you have become?”

  “Back off,” Sam warned as Liz visibly cringed under her imposing presence.

  Aya glared at him from under her eyelashes, the light from the fire making her expression almost demonic. “You decided to cast a spell in a moment of desperation not knowing what would happen. Now I am here and here I will stay.”

  “But we know nothing about you,” Liz said protectively.

  Aya narrowed her eyes at the young vampire. “And what would you know? You’ve been a vampire for less than a year. To me, that’s a blink of an eye. A drop in the ocean.”

  “Then, how old are you really?” Zac asked from behind her.

  Looking back over her shoulder, she stated, “I think it was about the year forty-six. Anno Domini, but I could be mistaken… Your mind deteriorates when you’re an ancient bitch.”

  Zac narrowed his eyes and said nothing.

  “But, that would mean you’re…you’re nearly two thousand years old,” Sam said in a small voice.

  “Is it really so hard to believe?” It felt good not having to hide herself anymore, letting her anger guide her words. They all looked alarmed at the notion of her being so old. They mustn’t know much about their own kind at all. “And how old are you?”

  “Why do they call you the Witch Hunter?” Gabby asked, changing the subject before it came to blows.

  “That’s self-explanatory,” she replied sarcastically. “If a witch uses their power for evil, then it’s the end for them.” Aya dragged her finger across her throat.

  “Why witches?” Liz asked.

  She raised her eyebrows. “Why not?” The tone in her voice suggested that this was her final answer on the subject.

  “Why is Katrin after you?” Sam asked gently.

  “Probably the same reason she’s after him.” She pointed to Zac, avoiding his question. “Because we all pissed her off.”

  “And now she knows you’re working with us,” Zac huffed.

  “Am I now?”

  “Two birds, one stone,” Gabby whispered, shaking her head.

  “We don’t really have an option. That’s why they used the spell,” Sam said.

  Aya curled her lip in a snarl at the memory of being forced awake by it. It’d felt like she’d been doused with a bucket of cold water.

  “Do you know who wrote the spell in my grimoire?” Gabby asked, picking it up and turning to a place marked by a slip of paper.

  Aya looked at the page Gabby pointed out and sighed. “Once upon a time I helped your ancestor. I can’t believe that idiot wrote a spell. At least it’s not specific, but troublesome.”

  “What do you mean, troublesome?”

  “I’ve done a lot of things to annoy many people. None more so than Katrin. I get followed by her thugs more often than not, so you can understand why this spell is inconvenient. Change a few words around, add a bit of you… You get the picture.”

  “Is that why you hid yourself from us? For fear that we were working with Katrin?” Sam asked.

  “One reason,” Aya confirmed. “Though, fear had no part in it.”

  Zac snorted. “Of course not.”

  “Why could you come into Alex’s house without being invited?” Liz asked.

  Aya thought for a moment, then said, “I can walk wherever I want.”

  “But why?”

  “Because I can.” The statement was final.

  “Zac, remember the vampire you killed? He was one of Katrin’s, wasn’t he looking for someone?” Sam prodded. “And he’s who started the mess with the werewolves.”

  “And what happened to them?” Aya asked, knowing full well she was what had happened to the wolves.

  “Gone. They won’t bother us again.” Zac glowered as if remembering something horrible. “He was looking for you.”

  “What makes you say that?” she asked.

  “I remember because I made fun of him. He said he was looking for a woman that was ‘black of hair, blue of eye’. And you’re the only one fitting that description around here.”

  “What was his name?”

  “Alistair something. Payne? I don’t really remember.”

  Aya cocked her head. “And you killed him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. He was annoying.”

  “You knew him?” Sam asked.

  Aya snorted in frustration. “It doesn’t really matter now. Unfortunately, I’ve lost the element of surprise, but we can work with that. Katrin was watching you somehow.” How the hell had they tracked her here? Again?

  “How could she be watching us?” Liz looked horrified.

  “Katrin is an ancient witch, Liz. She stopped her spirit from passing on, thus remaining in an in-between place to continue influencing the living. She has many vampires and witches in her following and can see many places through the eyes of others.”

  “So you think there’s someone physically watching us?” Zac asked, knowing full well that at least one vampire had them under surveillance.

  “Perhaps. It’s hard to tell. Usually, I can sense who’s around, but a witch can help shield them. Especially now that Katrin knows I’m here, that’s even more likely.”

  “Then it would all be in our best interests if you stay here with us at the manor,” Sam stated. “As you said, they’re after you as well. There’s plenty of room, and I’m sure Zac won’t mind.”

  Zac glared at his brother. “Actually, I do mind. What’s to stop her from killing us in our sleep? All we have is her word and after all the lies she’s told us—”

  Aya rolled her eyes. “If I wanted to kill you all, Zac, I could have done it a million times by now. Besides, I’ve only ever told you the truth…with a few omissions.” Zac huffed in annoyance. “Katrin has caused me much trouble in the past, so I would like to get rid her. I have no issue with you other than the fact that you’re an arsehole.” Gabby let out a laugh at Aya’s statement. “I won’t murder you in your sleep. Cross my heart.”

  “If you cross the line, Aya, be warned—”

  “What are you going to do, Zac? Punch me like a twenty-pound weakling?” She walked around him, sizing him up. “I’d like to take you down a few pegs.”

  “Cut it out, you two,” Sam said firmly, ever the level-headed mediator.

  Gabby cleared her throat, changing the subject yet again. “So, what do you suggest we do? Go on the offensive or defensive?”

  “There’s not much we can do until either Katrin shows herself or one of her followers appears. Which won’t be long.” Aya shrugged. “Once the witch has come out of hiding, we need a way to break her hold on the living and send her to the other side. There’s some witchy homework for you, Gabby.” Aya doubted that she could find a way, she seemed unaware of her potential. It radiated all around the young witch but telling her as much would defeat the purpose. Gabby had to find it for herself.

  “I’m only new at this, Aya. I don’t know what good I can do.” Gabby tried to hide the panic in her voice, but it wavered, giving her away.

  “I’m sure you’ll find something.” Aya smiled for the first time. “We’ll have a lot to keep us entertained in the meantime.”

  Zac was still annoyed. “Like what?”

  “Staking vampires, thwarting assassination attempts… You know, all the fun stuff.” Aya sighed at the awkward silence that followed. What a boring bunch of vampires. Even she had a taste for a little persuasive violence now and then, but perhaps not quite as persuasive as ripping apart werewolves had been.

  “Well,” Liz proclaimed to cover up the awkward silence, “it’s rather late, so we better be going home. Could you give me a ride, Gabby?”

  “Sure.” Gabby looked relieved as she gathered her things, her mind preoccupied with the task Aya had entrusted her with.

  “Speak to you tomorrow.” Liz gave Sam a quick kiss on the lips as they left the parlour, the front door closing a moment later.

  Zac glared at Aya and disappeared from the room without a word. Sam shrugged apologetically. “Do you need to go get anything?”

  Aya shook her head. “No.”

  “Nothing? No clothes or anything?”

  “No.”

  He seemed a little taken aback. She supposed most people had some things. A change of clothes would be normal, even for a vampire. She wasn’t really what constituted as ‘normal’.

  “I’m not attached to possessions,” she told him.

  “Well, let me show you upstairs. We have a spare room you can use.” He cocked his head toward the door.

  Sam led her up the stairs and opened the first door next to the landing. “You can use this room. The bathroom is through there. It joins to my room on the other side. If you need anything, let one of us know. If you want to buy anything, I can give you some cash. We don’t make a habit of compelling people if we don’t have to.” He turned and walked back to the bedroom door. “Oh, and we don’t eat them, either.”

  Aya nodded her understanding and he closed the door behind him.

  How the hell had she wormed her way into the Degaud Manor? She didn’t intend to harm any of them, but it was way too easy. This took their desperation to a whole other level. She made a mental note to have a word with Sam about security.

  Looking around the room, Aya sighed.

  Here we go again.

  Chapter 11

  When Aya opened her eyes, it was light outside.

  She sat up, taking in her surroundings in the stark light of day. The room they’d given her was modest, but the bed was comfortable. Better than the slab of rock she’d slept on the last one hundred and fifty years, but even a bed of nails would be better than that.

  Aya cast out her hearing, but there was no sound coming from the bathroom or the room beyond. It seemed Sam had already left for work.

  She showered and dressed in the same clothes she wore yesterday, making a note to get some more later.

  Venturing out into the hallway, she caught the faint hum of Zac’s blood somewhere on the manor grounds. Keeping a note of his general location, she explored the house. They’d invited her in, so to speak, so she took the liberty to snoop.

  The brothers had done a lot of work to the house since moving in. They’d wired the entire place with electricity and soft, tasteful lighting drenched every room. She wondered how many workmen they’d compelled to have this done. Then again, their parents had been rich plantation owners and a hundred years of interest in their bank accounts would have made them even more well off. They were a boon for the local economy.

  She passed the door to the master bedroom she knew was Zac’s and kept walking. She shuddered to think what was in there. It could remain a mystery.

  Tiptoeing down the stairs, Aya wandered to the back of the house where the kitchen was located. It was attached to a formal dining room which held a long mahogany table with twelve chairs. What looked like the original chandelier hung from the centre of the room and landscape paintings were displayed on each wall, but otherwise it was bare.

  She wandered back down the hallway, coming to another closed doorway. Running her hand along the frame to the door handle, she listened for a moment and turned it quietly, the door creaking inward.

  She found herself in the study. An enormous mahogany desk stood to one side, covered in old papers and books. The entire wall behind it was lined with bookshelves filled with more books and trinkets than she could count. Opposite were floor-to-ceiling French doors that opened up onto the veranda. Outside, she saw the wisteria that’d once grown in manicured fashion had overtaken most of the railings, ventured up to the second floor, and probably onto the roof as well.

  It’d been a long time, but she remembered this room as if it were yesterday. Actually, considering her current predicament, it was only last week.

  Approaching the bookshelves, she ran her fingers across the spines, reading the titles as she went. There was a layer of dust, which gave away that no one had moved anything from the shelves in a very long time.

  They all seemed to be ledgers from the old plantation. Expenditure, profit…until she placed her finger on a copy of Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar. Her heart stopped for a beat or two. She’d known a few dangerous Romans once upon a time.

  Pulling it from the shelf, she flicked through the pages, finally looking at the inside cover. In a perfect script was written, For Louis, Many happy returns on the day of your birth, Arthur Risom.

  Arthur Risom. The name sounded familiar.

  “What are you doing?”

  Aya turned to find Zac at the door. He was glaring at her, his arms crossed over his chest.

  She hadn’t heard him appear and she should have by the sound of his blood alone. Placing the book back, she said nothing, silently scolding herself.

  He scowled at her. “Do you always sneak around?”

  “Pfft,” she hissed. “I don’t sneak.”

  “Then what were you doing?”

  “Sneaking.” She grinned wickedly, biting her lower lip.

  “I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I don’t appreciate you poking about in my father’s study.”

  “Whatever.” She threw her hands up in mock defence. “Touchy this morning, aren’t we?”

  “Only because you’re here,” he sneered, looking her up and down.

  “Then perhaps I should go watch the show from the sidelines.” She sauntered over to him and looked into his strange green eyes. “When they come for you, you’ll beg me to poke around.” She glared and pushed past his bulky frame into the hallway. Walking down the hall and into the parlour, she heard him following her for round two.

  “Aya,” he said, not trying to hide his exasperation, “just leave that stuff alone. It belonged to my father. I don’t want anyone to touch it, okay?”

  She turned, raising an eyebrow at him. “Whatever. If it means that much to you, then I won’t go in there again. Satisfied?”

  He didn’t look convinced, but he nodded and sat on the sofa in a huff.

  “You know, this place could really use a duster. It’s not as nice as I remember it,” she jabbed. “I pity those with allergies. This place is a death trap.”

  “You’ve been here before?” He sounded surprised.

  Nodding, she said, “I never left.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, confused.

  “I was asleep since 1860-ish. I don’t usually keep track of the date.”

  Zac didn’t mask his surprise. “You’ve been asleep in Ashburton for the last one hundred and fifty years?”

  Aya shrugged, running a finger across the dusty mantelpiece. “If you hadn’t summoned me, I probably would still be down there.” Truthfully, the fact that she had slept so long worried her. Who knew when she would’ve woken if not for Zac and his reckless stupidity? It could only mean she was becoming weaker…and she hoped that wasn’t true.

  “Down where?” he asked, not fathoming the mechanics of it.

  “The cave by the lake,” she said matter-of-factly.

  “Then you would’ve been here when Sam and I…”

  “Louis Degaud was quite the gentleman,” she said absently.

  “My father?”

  “Yes. I believe so.”

  “Did I? Did Sam…”

  “I think you would have remembered if you’d met me,” she told him. “I had quite a dramatic presence back then. I believe Louis’ eldest son was away fighting in the war, which was quite the scandal. His youngest…well, I don’t really remember. Mrs. Degaud, what was her name again? Marie. She was as polite as they came in those days, which meant she’d stab you in the back if you were to come between her husband and her money.”

  “When did you leave?” he whispered, his expression somewhat shocked.

  Aya frowned at his tone. “About the time your parents received word of their son’s heroic death fighting to uphold the rights of the slavery of the South.”

  Zac’s eyes narrowed. “If I had a choice about it now, I wouldn’t have gone.”

  “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

  “Aya.”

  She shrugged. What did she care?

  “So, you were here when…”

  Aya sensed there was something he thought she knew but was uncertain of asking. “The last I knew of this town and the world was in the 1860s. Whatever came to pass after that is unknown to me, along with the so-called massacre. It has the stench of vampires all over it but fighting over territory was nasty in those days, especially with the witches.”

  Zac was silent for a moment, as if he were trying to decide what to tell her. “I died in the Civil War,” he said finally. “I was shot and left for dead. But before I died, a vampire came. I supposed it was because of all the blood. I was the only one still alive in that pile of corpses. She saw I was a captain and took me for her own gain. When I finally understood that she was using me, I left…only to find she’d reached my family before I could.”

  He stood and walked to the window opposite with his back to her. She could feel it troubled him. Who was his maker? Obviously, a callous bitch by the sounds of it. This was the vampire who had massacred every last human at the plantation after all. No wonder Zac was such an asshole.

  Aya felt sorry for him but stopped herself from saying it out loud. She felt sorry now, but back then, would she really have done anything to stop it? Instead, she asked, “Did you kill her?”

  “Yes,” he declared, still looking out the window, carefully hiding the emotion in his voice.

  “Good.” She clapped her hands together and stood. “Then that problem is solved. The wicked vampire is dead. What was her name?”

  Zac turned and frowned at her. “Victoria.”

  “Oh! Victoria. Long, curly, auburn hair? In America, by the way of France? Up-herself English bitch? Are we thinking about the same cold-hearted vampire?”