Chapter 9
INTO THE VAMPIRE’S DEN
MURIEL
Muriel changed her outfit three times before settling on a simple brown shift dress.
How was she supposed to know what was considered appropriate attire for meeting a thousand-year-old vampire scholar?
She was an earth witch who’d spent most of her life secluded in the Shenandoah mountains wearing comfortable clothes and going barefoot.
Her hands shook slightly as she fastened the thin leather cord around her neck, the one her mother had given her years ago. The polished amber warmed against her skin, lending her courage.
Stepping back, she gave herself a once-over in the mirror and sighed. She wouldn’t win any fashion awards, but it was what it was. As long as she didn’t embarrass herself or Brandon, she’d call it a win.
Muriel was both nervous and excited about venturing out.
After days cooped up in the bookstore, watching Brandon grow increasingly distant, it would be good for both of them.
She suspected the constant proximity was starting to wear on him.
He avoided touching her now, even during exercises, and his smiles had become forced.
Meanwhile, she was doing exactly the opposite.
It was ironic, really. For the past year, he’d been subtly pursuing her, and she’d been the one putting distance between them. Now, she was the one moving closer and he was backing off.
His magic still swirled inside her, warm and soothing and completely at odds with his increasingly standoffish behavior. She didn’t know what to think.
Maybe it had been all about the chase for him, and now that she was here, living in his space, he’d lost interest. Or maybe, after spending time with her and getting to know her, he’d realized she wasn’t nearly as interesting as he’d originally thought.
That was one of the reasons she’d asked to move forward with the meeting with Armand.
The sooner she knew for sure what she was dealing with, the sooner she could go back to standing on her own two feet.
Brandon had gone above and beyond, offering her a place to stay, a stabilizing resonance, and lessons in control.
She appreciated that more than she could say, but she was starting to fall for him, and that was a problem.
Muriel glanced toward the chair, where the book remained tucked in her satchel. That was the key to everything. She might not be able to read it, but she could feel its power. Hopefully, Armand would be able to translate enough to tell her what it was and why her mother had kept it hidden.
A knock on the guest room door made her jump.
“Almost ready?” Brandon called.
She took one last look in the mirror, smoothed down her dress, and grabbed her satchel. “Ready.”
He was waiting by the stairs, a vision in dark slacks and a deep blue button down that made his eyes even more striking. His hair was still characteristically messy, but he'd clearly made an effort. Her heart stuttered just looking at him. Brandon Emrys was an incredibly handsome man.
“You look beautiful,” he said, his voice rough.
“Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself.” She tried for light and teasing, but it came out softer. More sincere.
Something flickered in his eyes—heat? Longing?—before he shuttered it away. “The car's out back.”
The drive started in companionable silence. Muriel watched Mythic roll past her window, once again struck by how charming the town was. Normal on the surface, thrumming with barely contained supernatural energy beneath.
That was nothing compared to the energy swirling between them in the enclosed space of the car.
“Tell me about Armand,” she said finally, needing to fill the silence. “What's he like?”
Brandon's hands relaxed fractionally on the wheel as if he, too, was glad for a diversion. “Armand? He’s brilliant. On the reclusive side though. He leaves the politics to Vlane.”
At Muriel’s blank look, he explained, “Vlane Masterson is the head vampire around here.
Masterson. The name sounded familiar. “Ana’s husband?”
“Yes, that’s the one.”
“Will I see Ana tonight?” she asked, the thought of seeing a friendly face easing some of her nervousness.
“You might,” Brandon said with a smile. “Ryssa, too. They both live on the estate. You rarely see one without the other.”
They left the main part of town behind, winding up into the forested hills. The road grew narrower, more secluded, until they turned onto a private drive marked by stone pillars and an impressive gate, which opened as they approached.
A huge, lethal-looking male stepped out of the shadows. Muriel’s first thought was, He’d look at home on a Viking longship, complete with carved dragon.
“Brandon.”
“Zarek.”
“Armand is expecting you.”
“Thanks.”
The trees opened up, and Muriel's jaw dropped.
The Masterson estate rose before them like something out of a Gothic novel—all stone and soaring architecture, with leaded glass windows that caught the last rays of the setting sun.
The mansion was massive, but there was nothing cold or forbidding about it.
Flowering vines climbed the walls, and the grounds were immaculately maintained, with gardens that made her magic hum.
“It's beautiful,” she breathed.
“Wait until you see the inside.” Brandon parked and came around to open her door, offering his hand to help her out.
The contact sent a familiar spark through their bond—one that made his jaw tighten before he released her.
Always pulling away.
They climbed the wide stone steps to doors that were easily twice her height, carved with intricate patterns that seemed ancient and holy. Before Brandon could knock, the doors swung open to reveal Jason.
“Brandon,” he said warmly. “Muriel. Welcome.”
“Thank you for arranging this,” Brandon said.
“My pleasure. Armand is quite excited. It's been a long time since he's had a proper research project.” Jason's eyes twinkled. “He's in the library. This way.”
Jason led them inside, and Muriel forgot to be nervous. The foyer alone was breathtaking with its white marble floors, soaring ceilings with paintings that would put museums to shame, and a crystal chandelier that had to be at least twelve feet across.
“This is incredible,” she whispered.
“Vlane has good taste.” Jason led them down a corridor lined with artwork and carved woodwork. “Armand's library is his sanctuary. Consider it an honor that he's invited you in.”
He stopped at a set of double doors, knocked once, and opened them. “Armand, your guests have arrived.”
The library beyond stole what little breath Muriel had left.
Two stories of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, with a cantilevered walkway providing access to the upper level. The scent of leather and old paper and cedar filled the air—rich and intoxicating. Comfortable reading chairs were scattered throughout, and warm light spilled from antique lamps.
It was, quite possibly, the most beautiful room she'd ever seen.
“Miss Brennan.” A man rose from one of the chairs near the fireplace. “Welcome. I am Armand Castellano.”
Muriel forgot how to breathe.
The man looked thirty. Thirty-five at most. Dark hair pulled back with a leather tie, classical Roman features, dressed simply in dark slacks and an immaculate white shirt. She'd been expecting... what? Gray hair? Weathered features? Some sign of his thousand-plus years?
“I—” She caught herself. “I'm sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. I was expecting someone... older.”
His lips curved in an amused smile and bowed slightly. “You flatter me. I was thirty-two when I was turned.”
“A thousand years ago,” she murmured.
“Give or take a few decades.” He gestured to the chairs. “Please, sit. Would you like some refreshments?”
She was far too nervous for that. “No, but thank you.”
Muriel settled into one of the chairs, the satchel in her lap. Her fingers tightened protectively on the strap.
Armand took the chair adjacent, sitting with a grace she could never hope to achieve. “Brandon says you have something you'd like me to examine?”
“Yes. A book. A grimoire, I think. I’m not exactly sure what it is, but it is imbued with powerful magic. My mother left it to me when she died. I can open it, but I can't read it.”
“May I see it?”
She hesitated, second-guessing her decision, then decided she really didn’t have a choice if she wanted answers. She carefully extracted the book from her satchel and set it gently on her lap.
The moment it was free, the air in the library changed. The book hummed with power, responding to the ancient magic that saturated this place. Armand's eyes widened fractionally.
“Extraordinary,” he murmured, leaning forward. “May I hold it?”
Muriel started to hand it over, but the book grew hot in her hands. Not burning, but warm enough to make her pause. “I... I don't think it wants me to let go of it yet.”
“Sentient, then.” Armand's eyes gleamed with scholarly interest. “Even more extraordinary. We will allow it to acclimate. May I examine it while you hold it?”
She nodded, turning the book so he could see. Armand stood and moved closer, careful not to touch the book itself, his gaze fixed on the ancient text.
He was silent for a long moment, his expression growing more intense with each page she turned at his gentle prompting.
“The binding is thirteenth or fourteenth century,” he said finally. “though the text itself is older. Much older.” He looked up, meeting her eyes. “Ms. Brennan, where did your mother get this?”
“I don't know.” Muriel's throat tightened. “I didn’t even know it existed until a few weeks ago. It was hidden in a secret chamber beneath our greenhouse.”
“Have you shown this to anyone else?” Gone was the scholarly excitement in Armand’s voice, replaced by something graver.
“Yes. Brandon,” she said with a glance his way. “He’s the one who told me there might be people anxious to get their hands on it.”
“He’s not wrong,” Armand murmured. He looked at Brandon. “Anyone in particular?”
“The Collectors,” Brandon answered.
Armand’s reaction was immediate and alarming. His expression went cold, his eyes hardening to black ice. “The Collectors are after you? They know who you are? That you have this?”
“I think so. One of them showed up at my house the day after I found it. Brandon believes they might be tracking me through magical surges.”
Armand looked at Brandon, who nodded confirmation.
“Please, tell me everything.”
Muriel glanced at Brandon, who nodded encouragingly.
She took a breath. “I fell asleep reading one night and woke up to feel my mother’s presence urging me to the greenhouse.
I found a glamor that concealed an underground chamber.
That’s where I discovered the book. When I opened it, there was an explosion of power.
I don’t know how else to explain it. It was like I was in the eye of a tornado.
Everything else disappeared, and I was surrounded by… ” She hesitated.
“By what?” Armand prompted gently.
“Visions,” she whispered. “Visions of women who looked like me, performing rituals, passing the book from mother to daughter. Visions of evil men hunting witches through the forest, draining them of their magic.”
Brandon’s magic swelled within her, offering warmth and comfort. It was like being hugged from the inside. She shot him a grateful glance, but he was looking elsewhere.
Armand was quiet for a moment. “Have you experienced any visions since?”
“No. The book’s been quiet. But my power seems to be increasing, and the surges are getting worse. That's why I came to Brandon for help. He suggested a binding.”
“A resonance binding,” Brandon clarified.
Something flickered across Armand's face as he looked between them—surprise? concern?—but it vanished before Muriel could identify it.
“This is quite a rare find. I would very much like to study it more closely,” Armand said, his attention returning to the book.
“With your permission, of course. The language is ancient—older than Latin, older than any living tongue.
But I recognize some of the symbols. If I'm right about what this is...” He trailed off, shaking his head.
“What do you think it is?” Muriel asked.
“I have suspicions, but I need more time to confirm them. Would you be willing to remain here for a few hours while I examine it? You could visit with Ana and Ryssa—I'm sure they'd be delighted to see you again.”
The book pulsed warm agreement in her hands. Apparently, it had vetted Armand and approved of him studying it—as long as she stayed close.
“I... yes. I'd like that.”
Armand smiled. “Excellent. Let me show you to the sitting room, and I'll have someone let Ana and Ryssa know you're here. Brandon, I wonder if you’d mind remaining here with me while the ladies visit?”
“As long as it’s okay with Muriel,” Brandon said.
Muriel nodded. “Of course.”