As expected, both vampires jumped at the noise and turned toward the room where smoke was starting to trickle into the hall. Cursing, they ran to the burning bedroom, leaving the witch’s prison completely unattended.
It was so nice when a plan came together smoothly.
Digging into his pocket, he pulled out his lock picks. The lock on the door looked like a standard model, one he’d had plenty of practice picking. He’d need to exit the world of the dead, but this would take less than thirty seconds. The guards would be occupied for at least that long with the fire.
Parting the veil, Winter stepped into the world of the living and grabbed the doorknob. It was unlocked. Of course, the hall and door had been guarded by two vampires, but it seemed strange all the same. He put away his lock picks and palmed his knife in his right hand. Winter slipped inside, silently closing the door again behind him.
As he whipped around, preparing to dip into the dead world so he could sneak up on his prey, all thought stopped when his eyes fell on a young man stretched out on a thin mattress. Bright red hair sprung from the top of his head, and his skin was a flawless white, as if he’d been spun from pure moonlight. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a rumpled black T-shirt that had some kind of company logo on the upper left side. There was a pair of worn sneakers on the floor in front of the bed as if he’d kicked them off before getting comfortable. His hands were bound together and tied to the metal bed frame with rope. Winter watched as the fear evaporated from his soft olive-green eyes and his full lips tilted into the most tantalizing smirk. A smirk Winter suddenly wanted to lick from his beautiful mouth.
“Aren’t you a little short for a stormtrooper?” the man mocked.
“What?” Winter squawked.
“I mean you’re no Luke Skywalker, but I’m assuming you’re here to rescue me.” He shifted on the mattress, trying to pull his legs up underneath him so he could sit up. “I’m feeling very Princess Leia in the cute white outfit right now.”
Winter could only blink at him. He was lucky his brain was working to keep the air flowing through his lungs. This was all wrong. He hadn’t expected there to be other prisoners. He hadn’t checked the entire house. Was the witch being kept in another room? He’d been positive the witch would be at Damon’s. There was no way the damn vampire trusted anyone enough to protect the witch.
When Winter didn’t reply, the man heaved an enormous sigh. “You’re one of those really old vampires, aren’t you? One of those who doesn’t like moving pictures. How can you not know Star Wars?”
“I know Star Wars,” Winter grumbled, though he wished he hadn’t. It was the least important thing to focus on at the moment. “Who are you? Why is Damon holding you prisoner?”
“Fox Turner,” he replied with a grin. “These bastards grabbed me because of some stupid prophecy.”
“Wait! You’re a witch? The witch?” Winter pointed the knife at Fox.
Fox’s smile dimmed as his eyes locked on the sharp edge of the knife. “Yep, I’m a witch.” He swallowed hard and seemed to regain some of his bravado as he winked at Winter’s confused expression. “You were expecting a woman, right?”
“I thought male witches were called warlocks or wizards.”
“Nope, witch is gender-neutral among my kind, thank you very much. Wizards are for Harry Potter.”
“Lovely,” Winter muttered.
This was all going wrong. Not that it should matter whether the witch in the prophecy was a man or a woman. All that was important was this person supposedly bringing the destruction of the Varik clan, and Winter was not going to allow that.
Fox was finally sitting upright in the bed. He flexed his fingers a few times as if trying to get blood flow back into them. “But you are here to rescue me, right? I’ve been here at least two nights, and they’re starting to get a little frisky over who gets to drain me.”
Winter hesitated. “Rescue” was not a term that had entered his brain when it came to dealing with the witch and the prophecy. He’d not let himself think about the witch being a person. He couldn’t if he was going to end her…rather, his…life to protect his family.
If Winter were honest with himself, he hadn’t planned for the stealing part. He’d largely expected this to be a quick execution, and then he would escape to Connecticut and his family.
But was this Fox Turner guilty of anything other than being named in a prophecy?
It was clear he was there against his will if Damon felt the need to tie him up in a barren room and set two guards outside his door.