Chapter 19

The decapitated vampire woman lay on a steel table in a storage shed, a hundred yards from the makeshift apartment that had become Misha's humble home. A hundred yards from where he worked and slept and fucked Paris Rossignol until he fell apart. A hundred yards from the epicenter of the vibrant, rich life he was building here.

They had dealt with Carrigan Shea. He'd foolishly thought things would get easier after that, but he hadn't counted on his newfound family being tangled up with one of the most notorious witches in the world, one who had gone so far in her meddling that even the Night Weavers had disowned her from their questionable ranks decades ago.

And yet, this ugly mystery felt like coming home. As much as he adored Paris and his family, the cozy evenings and slow pace they'd enjoyed for a scant few weeks was unfamiliar, like learning a new language. But a bloody vampire corpse, strange magic, and a search for answers?

Thiswas entirely up Misha Volkov's alley. After the vicious tussle in a parking garage that left him battered and bruised, they'd put Paige's body on ice while they went on a rescue mission to recover Scarlett Ward. The mission had been a messy success, with several of the Nightwatch banged up after tussling with the black-eyed vampires in Armina Voss's estate, as well as the aftereffects of her magic. Julian had taken the brunt of one of the witch's protective spells, and was still sleeping off its effects.

But given that Misha had seen Paris nearly cut in half by Carrigan Shea, and poor Nikko with his pretty face smashed like a post-Halloween pumpkin, they'd come out much cleaner than he hoped from this particular misadventure.

And with Julian recuperating, Scarlett safely secreted away within the protections of Infinity, and Paris insisting that Misha had to rest, he had time.

Not to rest, naturally. He had time to ask questions. Namely, what the hell was going on with these vampires?

Scarlett had told him what she knew—which was relatively little. She'd been told they served Carrigan Shea, and that Armina Voss was trying to undo their vampire transformation. Even she didn't entirely buy the story, and suggested that the witch and her apprentices were trying to break vampires to use them as convenient weapons.

Like pets.

As he'd promised Julian, Misha was working on tracking down Rhys Collins. He wasn't sure it was possible, but he'd helped himself to a sample of Julian's blood while he slept, then pored over Shoshanna's journals to see how she'd built the Durendal Covenant. They'd had a stroke of luck and found a single vial of Rhys's blood in a cooler, which he'd distilled and saved for healing. The bloodstones were still steeping, giving Misha time to investigate the vampire corpse.

His nose wrinkled as he carefully cut open the woman's sweater, which was raggedly cut and stiff with dried blood. Using a damp towel, he gently cleaned her skin, then draped another towel over her bare chest. She'd tried to kill him, and was quite thoroughly dead, but there was no need to take her dignity.

The memory of her void-black eyes made him shudder, and for one awful moment, he imagined his Paris, sky-blue eyes gone oily dark. What was this witch truly capable of?

The door to the storage shed swung open, and then he heard a gasp of fright. "Jesus, Misha," Shoshanna complained.

"You'll have to be more specific," he said without looking up. "Was that, Jesus, Misha it's cold? Jesus, Misha that's a lot of blood?—"

"Jesus, Misha, you have a vampire corpse with no head laid out like Thanksgiving dinner," she said, covering her mouth.

He looked up. "Well, by definition, all vampire corpses have no head. Considering that's the only way to kill us."

The human witch shot him a frown that might have been funny in a less macabre setting. "Is this the one that was trying to kill you?"

"Yes," he said, tracing the lines on her chest. Black lines, almost like discolored scars, were raised across her upper chest and around her neck like a collar. "These don't look like Kova's marks."

She nodded in agreement. "These are definitely different." These were more jagged, almost thorned and barbed, where Kova's were neat and precise, almost like a script.

Careful to cover the woman's body as he went, Misha examined her wrists and ankles. They were banded in markings, like shackles had been inked onto her. Another long line of markings twisted up her spine to form a knot at the back of her neck.

With a wince, Misha removed the plastic sheeting covering the woman's head. The human witch looked away, but he carefully examined the marks at the base of her skull. He took a picture of the markings, then quickly sketched the full symbol in his journal. The circular pattern resembled a Covenant mark, but it wasn't the one Shea's court had borne, nor any he recognized.

Still, this was connected to Shea. Paige's blood smelled just like his, which made it likely that she was one of his Vessels. Armina and her apprentices might have rounded up the stragglers from his court, or even forced him to create new Vessels since they took over.

After checking that Shoshanna was still looking away, he gritted his teeth and cracked the woman's jaw open. Her teeth were normal fangs, but her tongue was gone, a neatly cut scar in its place.

That explained the lack of conversation.

Shining a light into her mouth, he found another dark marking on the soft palate. God, the witch was thorough. He wrinkled his nose and covered the head again, then said, "It's covered up."

"What are you looking for?" Shoshanna asked.

Misha glanced at her. "When she attacked me, I could smell the magic on her. And it was so strange. She had no interest in Julian. Didn't even flinch when he came at her."

"We know Armina wants him alive," Shoshanna replied.

"I thought that was why until we went after Scarlett," he said. "When we were at her house, another one went after Safira. Completely ignored Paris even though they were in the same room. You saw her, didn't you?"

Shoshanna flinched. Though Safira and Paris had made quick work of the unfortunate blonde vampire, the redhead still came back with one eye swollen shut, a dislocated shoulder, and horrific slashes ripped down her chest. "She looked bad."

"Understatement," Misha said.

"But still not disproving the original theory," Shoshanna said.

Misha frowned. "I guess you're right. I just can't get past the lack of survival instinct. Paris told me the woman barely flinched when he stabbed her, just kept going for Safira. Even when he got between them, she wouldn't touch him. It just… It's like they weren't even people anymore. I want to know how she did this," he said.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes. Because I don't want this to happen to any of them," Misha said pointedly, gesturing broadly.

Shoshanna's brown eyes widened with horror. "Do you think they could?"

"I don't know. That's what I want to figure out," Misha said, shaking his head. "But we know that Armina works with the Shieldsmen, and we definitely do not want vampire hunters who can turn us to mindless puppets."

Her throat worked silently, and she nodded. "We should compare this to Kova's marks and figure out if it was the same process."

"We know it's not exactly the same," Misha said. "Kova has a mind of his own. And a tongue."

Her gaze cut to the lump under the plastic sheet, and she looked back at him with a comical expression of horror. "They cut out… Gross, Misha."

"I guess that solves the problem of being a smartass. If I was a witch enslaving Paris Rossignol, I'd cut his tongue out first," he quipped.

She let out a sharp laugh and caught herself. "It could be a similar spell, though. With the marks on the wrists and ankles, it's worth checking out. Maybe if we understand how to fix him, we can understand how this works. And how to prevent it."

"Not we. I'll work on that. You work on making sure Julian doesn't lose his lover, all right?" Misha asked.

Her smile faltered. "Yeah."

His phone rattled against the table, and he glanced over to see Calling:Ophelia Klein. "Home office," he said apologetically. "Would you excuse me, please?"

She nodded and said, "I'll be in my workshop."

The phone stopped ringing, but he still waited for Shoshanna to leave before he called back. Ophelia answered on the second ring, activating a video call.

"Just a minute, Ophelia," he said, turning carefully so that the vampire corpse wasn't on screen.

The other woman toyed with one long braid, fixing a bland smile that he knew was a sure sign of annoyance. When he turned on his video, her face fell."What happened to your face?"

"I disagreed with someone's fist," he replied.

"Misha," Ophelia said flatly.

"We disagreed several times. Did you get the file I sent you?"

He wasn't waiting to figure things out this time. As soon as they left the house in Charlotte, he'd been writing up all his notes about Paige, and he'd sent it to Rafaela with a promise to follow up. While he didn't want the Sanguine Crown breathing down his neck, this might be a danger to all vampires, not just the ones he cared about.

Ophelia nodded and said, "Rafaela contacted me and said she'd already shared it with the circle. What's your take?"

"I'm not sure. It seems like it's connected to Carrigan Shea, but he's been under the control of Armina Voss as far as we know. My suspicion is that these vampires were his Vessels before he was captured, or they made new ones afterward. Their scent is the same, which is the only thing I'm certain of," he said.

"Tell me how serious this is," Ophelia said.

Glancing over the edge of the computer at the headless vampire, he sighed. "Let's say fairly serious. I don't know how she's doing it, but I think we should all be concerned that she can turn a vampire into a mindless drone."

Ophelia nodded. "I'll keep Lady Demirci apprised. And you'll let us know if you learn anything else."

"Of course," he said."I hope it turns out to be nothing."

"As do I, but we both know better than to build a foundation on hope, don't we?"