Page 33 of Desperately Seeking Vampire
“May I see them?” Finch asked, holding out a hand.
“Who are these warlocks who are slandering Minerva?” Ivo demanded to know. He still felt itchy, as if he should be doing something, but he was at a loss as to what he could do other than go out and personally smite anyone who spoke ill of his Beloved. “Did the thief takers bring them to harass her in their stead? I will beat them to a pulp, individually or collectively.”
Minerva’s lips twitched. “You will?”
“Yes. They pose a threat to you.”
“They also pose a threat to the rest of us, since the last I heard, they were threatening to storm the castle to make Minerva come out and face them.” Finch took the cards that Minerva gave him, and began to examine them closely.
Christian sighed heavily. “And here was I thinking the days of mortals storming my home with pitchforks and torches were long gone.”
“They would hardly do that,” Ivo told him. “It’s not as if you are living in the pages of a gothic novel, after all. At best, they would merely make nuisances of themselves as they did with my mausoleum.”
Eve, the housekeeper whom Ivo had met when he arrived eighty-six years before, opened the door to the study and gave Minerva a long look before she announced, “There are people at the front entrance. They are armed with burning torches, and demand that you turn over to them the woman who bears a spell intended on destroying them all. I have been informed that if she does not come out, they will set fire to the castle.”
Christian cocked an eyebrow at Ivo, who felt a rising sense of frustration with the whole situation.
“Evidently, I am wrong,” he managed to say, wrapping himself in the dignity that came to all Dark Ones.
“Oh, goddess,” Minerva said, her elbows on her legs as she leaned her head into her hands. “Now we’re living through a Frankenstein movie. And it’s all my fault.”
“It is not your fault,” Ivo said, moving immediately to her side. “You are not responsible for either your employer’s actions or those of the two strongmen, who have obviously stirred the crowd to do their dirty work. You are blameless in this whole situation. Blameless and uninvolved except in the most tangential manner.”
“Blameless, maybe, but I am not so sure she’s uninvolved,” Finch said, frowning over a card. He held it up to the light. They all looked at it.
“It’s just a card,” Ivo said. “Somewhat tattered.”
Minerva craned to look. “The Hanged Man? Yeah, that got wet and the front lamination started coming off, so I had to glue it back down. That’s why it’s a bit lumpy.”
“Is it?” Finch slid his fingernail along the edge of it. Christian, who had gone to look out a window that faced the front entrance, moved over to where Finch was bent over the card. He pursed his lips, went to his desk, and returned with a long, wickedly sharp letter opener, which he handed to Finch. The latter applied it to the edge of the card, looking up to add, “Or is it this that is making it thicker?”
They all stared when he spread his hands, revealing two cards. The first was the Hanged Man card, but the second, the Sun card, was torn along the perimeter where Finch had separated the cards, obviously glued together. In the dead center of the card, a tiny scrap of vellum resided, minute text written in a dirty brown ink, the writing so small as to almost be illegible.
Almost.
“Holy shiznits,” Minerva said, her mouth an O as she moved to Ivo’s side. “There really was something in my cards. Literally in them. Wow. Is that—”
“Don’t touch it,” Ivo warned, taking her hand when she reached out to poke at the bit of vellum. He met first Finch’s, then Christian’s gaze. They both nodded. “My medieval Latin may not be as strong as I would like, but it’s clear from the first line that this was, indeed, a spell created by the premiere prince of Abaddon, Bael.”
“The head honcho of hell wrote that?” Minerva’s eyes were huge when she watched while Christian, carefully taking the Sun card from Finch, walked over to his desk, where he rummaged around until he extracted a small wooden box, from which he dumped a number of pen nibs. Tipping the card, the vellum slid into the box.
Everyone breathed in relief when he closed the lid, snapping shut a latch.
“What did the spell say?” Minerva asked.
“It was a destructive spell to destroy enemies of the bearer, from what I saw,” Christian said, glancing at Ivo, who nodded.
“It most definitely should not be made available to anyone but the most cautious and respectful of collectors,” Ivo said.
“Well, that answers the question of why Minerva was the target of the thief takers,” Finch said, then cocked his head when the pounding of someone at the front doors echoed throughout the castle. “Who is going to tell them?”
“I will,” Ivo said, straightening his shoulders, and would have marched out to inform the crowd they must disperse or face his wrath, but Minerva stopped him.
“That is insanely brave of you,” she told him, kissing his chin. “With an emphasis on the word insane, but you get bonus points for the brave side.”
“I will not allow anyone to harm you. Not only because it would make you unhappy, but because you are my Beloved. It is my role to defend you,” he told her, gently releasing himself from the hold she had on his arm. “Now stay back, and allow me to commence smiting those who refuse to be reasonable.”
“Are all vampires like this?” she asked Christian.
