Quinn's Lady by Amanda Ashley Page B

Black Magic, she could simply have killed them all.
    But that kind of violence was abhorrent.
    As soon as they were gone, Seleena released Freyja. Meowing her thanks, the cat rubbed against her ankles.
    “Not now,” Seleena said. “I need to get dressed and go after Quinn. I know, you think it’s dangerous. But I’ll be fine.”
    In her room, she threw off her nightgown, pulled on a long black skirt and blouse, stepped into a pair of boots.
    Going into Quinn’s room, she found one of his shirts, which she carried into the living room. After placing it in her cauldron, she lit a candle, picked up her wand, and invoked a location spell.
    #
    Quinn didn’t struggle as they hustled him into a LandSkiff, chained him to a bolt in the floor, and slammed the door behind him. The silver burned where it touched his skin. Worse, it weakened him, as he discovered when he tried to yank the bolt from the floor, something that should have been ridiculously easy. He tried dissolving into mist, but with no success.
    Cursing softly, he sank down on his haunches, wondering where they were taking him. What would happen when they reached their destination. And why Seleena hadn’t worked a little magic and turned his captors into hop toads.
    He leaned his head against the sidewall and closed his eyes. How had they found him? And how had they known he was a vampire and that silver would weaken him and render him incapable of dissolving into mist? “Serepta,” he muttered. Of course. She had been prowling around Seleena’s place last night. No doubt she had overheard the news of Jagg’s death. Seen the sketch of his face.
    He ground his teeth in anger.
    Damn her black soul to Hel.
    His only consolation was in knowing he had taken three of the Enforcers out of action before the others overpowered him.
    He scrambled to his feet as the LandSkiff slowed to a stop. Hands clenched, he watched the door open. Three of the Enforcers waited outside. Big guys. Over six feet tall. Two-hundred-and-fifty pounds easy. One of them stepped inside. The other two covered him with their weapons.
    Knowing that struggling would only get him shot, Quinn let himself be led outside, docile as a newborn colt.
    He had never been inside the Bosquetown prison. It was a large, rectangular building made of solid gray stone. Armed guards patrolled the walls. His captors marched him into the precinct, demanded his personal information - name, date of birth, residence, employment.
    The first two were easy. He had no residence. “And no employment at the moment,” he added with a wry grin.
    The Enforcer taking his information snorted. “You should have thought of that before you killed your employer.”
    “Who accused me of killing him?”
    “I’m not at liberty to say.”
    Serepta, again, Quinn thought. A short time later, he found himself inside a small, square cell, his hands and feet shackled with thick silver chains that blistered his flesh. Biting back a groan, he sank down on the stone floor, preferring it to the narrow, bug-infested cot against the wall.
    Too bad he hadn’t killed Jagg in Brynn City, he thought ruefully. He had heard the jail there was something to see. Double beds with clean sheets. Hot and cold running water. Three good meals a day. Movies every night. Even a little female entertainment if you had the money to bribe the right people.
    He looked up when one of the guards strolled by. “Hey!”
    The man stopped, his expression surly. “What do you want?”
    “How about some breakfast?”
    The guard, whose name tag identified him as Ryann, snorted. “Sorry, we’re all out of blood.”
    “How about some ham and eggs?”
    Ryann’s brows rose to his hairline. “I thought you were a vampire.”
    Quinn jerked a thumb at the narrow, silver-barred window above his head. “The sun’s up. How can I be awake if I’m a vampire?”
    “I don’t know. I don’t care.”
    “What about that breakfast?”
    With a shake of his head, Ryann