Courts and Cabals 2 by G.S. D'Moore (best novel books to read .txt) 📕

Good thing she had one. “Cameron Dupree.”

Van Helsing paused, which was enough for Aveena to know she had her attention. A creepy pair of white irises, only a shade darker than her sclera, studied Aveena thoughtfully. Aveena didn’t meet the older woman’s eyes. Instead, they wandered over Van Helsing’s muscular, athletic body.

She wasn’t big, tall, or intimidating; which was what you’d think from someone of her reputation; but the evidence of battle was written all over her. Scars covered parts of her chest and shoulders. She’d covered some of them up with normal tattoos, but there were even more ancient magical symbols written across her flesh.

An All Seeing Eye – not the crap the Venetians marked their servants with – but the actual rune was tattooed around her naval. It allowed the woman to pull back the layers of reality to see the true workings of magic in the world. More markings worked their way down the insides of both her forearms; what they said Aveena didn’t know. Twin pentagrams adorned the back of Van Helsing’s hands. In the light that streamed in from the window, they all glinted metallic silver.

Aveena hissed at the sight. Most of Van Helsing’s tattoos weren’t drawn with ink, but a metallic polymer that made them three dimensional. Her skin had been cut apart, the mixture poured into the wounds, and then sealed back up with magic. The pain must have been extraordinary, but those tattoos gave the Van Helsings an edge against nearly everyone they came across. They worked their mystical art through Theurgy circle magic; which was normally a versatile, but long and drawn-out process. The Van Helsings had inscribed circles, runes, and wards into their very bodies; increasing their power, and allowing for quick casting of everything from simple to very complex spellwork.

For instance, it was well known that the Van Helsings had invented not only silverbane but developed cold iron as well. With thought and power, the woman in front of Aveena could transfigure mundane, household items into the bane of the Fae’s existence; literally turning anything into a weapon that could kill her.

“Cameron Dupree,” the corner of Van Helsing’s mouth turned up as Aveena tried not to think about how easily this woman could kill her; guesting rights or not. “I’ve heard about him.”

“He’s staying at Caesars Palace, a guest of Venus,” Aveena stated.

“I won’t move against the succubus queen,” Van Helsing stated flatly, “but he won’t be under her protection forever.”

“I’ll pay you two million dollars,” Aveena sweetened the pot, but it did nothing to enthuse the hunter.

“I’d kill Dupree for free. You have no idea what he is, the scourge that he represents to my world,” anger flashed in the woman’s eyes. “But I will take your money and kill him when he loses the old god’s protection. It won’t last forever,” she smiled, and despite being human, Aveena felt like she was looking at an undersea predator’s rows of serrated teeth.

“Then we have an agreement. If I fail, you will kill him,” there was a flex as magic solidified in the air around them. An agreement made in magic was more than just words or writing.

“We do. Now leave here, child, before I decide to rid this world of one more interloper,” the darkness coalesced back around the alter, and before Van Helsing completely vanished from sight, Aveena was out the door and running down the hill. She threw herself through the open gate, and stepped. The Land Between felt warm and cozy as she headed back to Vegas.

Human practitioners called themselves a bunch of things. Mage was the most common, but some were wizards, sorcerers, enchanters, etc. What most people didn’t call themselves, especially women, was a witch. There was a negative connotation throughout history, and people stayed clear of the word. Not Monica Van Helsing. She was a witch, and proud of it.

People called her the wicked witch – not to her face – because then she might kill them on the spot. Still, as an insurance policy, the wicked witch was as good a guarantee as there was in this realm. If Aveena failed to get Cam, Van Helsing wouldn’t. Then, Aveena could deliver his head to her mother. It wasn’t the Lady of Winter’s will, but coming back with a head was better than nothing at all.

She’d take whatever punishment her mother dealt out, but a woman like Ymira Foxbelle could always use a new head to mount on her trophy wall.

Chapter 12

“Is he awake?” a voice grated in my ear like nails on a chalkboard a moment before someone dug a finger into my spleen.

“Go away, mom. Five more minutes,” I shut my eyes tighter and tried to bring back the warm embrace of sleep.

“Let’s go, Cam. You’re going to be late,” another voice echoed louder, but it only made me shut my eyes tighter.

“Go away,” I had no idea what was going on, but all I wanted to do was sleep.

“Ah,” I smiled into my pillow when the reply was blessed silence. I was halfway back to sleep when there was a violent jerk, the pull of gravity, and the unyielding floor smacked me in the face.

“What the fuck?” I growled; all thoughts of sleep gone as I tried to untangle myself from my sheets. They clung to me like a two-dollar whore who I’d stiffed.

“Look whose finally awake,” Dani stood over me with the mattress in one hand.

“Geez, Sergeant Hard Ass,” I groaned as my stomach did somersaults. “I . . .” something jumped into my throat as my stomach violently rebelled.

I jumped to my feet, shouldered aside Fern and Dani, and made a beeline for the bathroom. I barely got the seat up before rancid sludge poured out of me. The smell hit me, and I retched some more.