by Colt, Shyla
“The witch has new tricks. Let’s see how long you can keep it up.” Her heart pounded in her chest as she gave chase. She sensed him behind her, a silent predator stalking as it waited for the right moment to strike. He rushed past her. Too close for comfort. She froze him in place. His animalistic snarl pierced her to the core. Eyes scarlet, and features twisted into something otherworldly, this was the hunger controlling the man.
“Run.” Distorted, his voice acted like the bullet from a starting gun at the beginning of a race. She fled out of the hallway to the maze outside. The damp night air did nothing to calm her, and she hardly felt the cool ground on her skin and bare feet. Disappearing into the high, green walls of shrubbery, she dove through hedges and doubled back to dead ends, spreading her scent to throw him off her trail. Despite the darkness, she saw clearly. Add better vision to the list of freakish changes. Every day she moved further away from what and who she once was.
A low, evil laugh filled the maze. “Do you think you can escape me?” The amusement in his voice terrified her. Suddenly, she missed the tight-laced prick persona.
The top of the hedge in front of her exploded as he leapt over the wall. The ground shook with his impact. He knelt in front of her. His head snapped back.
“I will always find you. My blood flows in your veins.” She blinked, and he moved in front of her. His minty breath caressed her face, stirring the tendrils sticking to her forehead. Tunnel vision took over as she met his crazed stare. A link opened between them, and she experienced his tentative hold on sanity. Wincing, she pressed her hands against her ears as the weight of memories gathered over time, and the insatiable lust for blood drove her to her knees.
Piles of bodies rested in a pool of blood. Their throats were viciously torn, and their faces were twisted in an odd combination of pain and ecstasy.
Stumbling over a severed head, she moved through the hellish landscape of what once was a quaint village. The walls of the stone structures were splattered with blood. A smear from a bloody hand chilled her to the bone. What happened here? A shape moved in from the darkness. Nude, he was covered in blood. His scarlet eyes stood out in the night. Crazed he rummaged through the piles of bodies, sniffing each before he discarded the carcass carelessly. A moan came from the bottom of the pile near her. He sped toward the sound.
“No.” She wielded her power like a knife, severing their connection.
Crewe stumbled back. “What did you do, witch?”
“I-I don’t know.” She shook her head.
“Stay out of my head.”
“Believe me I’d like to!”
“You think you can control me with your pitiful attempt at mind control.”
“Do you think I wanted to see you gorge yourself on humans?” she cried.
He stiffened. “What did you say?”
“I saw what you did to that village. Jesus. You’re an animal, aren’t you? Is that why they sent me with you? Because you’ll do whatever it takes to keep me in line?”
She met his blown-out pupils, and she stopped mid-sentence. His chest moved up and down rapidly, and he balled his fists. Tilting his head back he roared. Fear blossomed in her chest like a night flower opening its petals. Veins popped up in his neck and he locked his vision on her. His nostrils flared. He took a menacing step toward her.
“Stop.” She placed her hands on his chest, and the world shattered.
* * *
CREWE
He spun in a circle, panicking as the bright rays of the sun blinded his sensitive eyes and warmed his skin. His jaw dropped as he swept his gaze over the area, seeking shelter. Soon his skin would blister and burn. Palm trees filled the area behind him. He darted for the shade the large, green leaves provided. The scent of salty sea air filled his nostrils. Did she teleport us?
“Witch,” he bellowed, “what have you done?”
“I don’t know.” Turning, he found her a few yards away. Brow furrowed she reached out to touch the rough bark of a tree.
“You’d better figure it out soon, or you’ll learn firsthand what the sun can do to a vampire.”
“I thought the spell was lessening.”
He rushed forward, slamming her body back against the tree. Placing his hand beside her head, he leaned down. His hand itched to wrap around her throat. “You have a smart mouth. Careful it doesn’t bite off more than you can chew.”
“And yet you don’t come out of our encounters unscathed, do you?” she asked breathily.
Her lush curves pressed into him, and her sultry scent assaulted his nose. Brave little thing. “Fix it, witch.”
“How can I think with you literally breathing down my neck?”
“You’re lucky I’m not ripping it out.”
“Then you’d never get out of here.”
He pushed away from her and growled. Sniffing the air, he wrinkled his nose, and he shook his head. “This place is wrong.”
“Why?”
“It smells wrong, artificial.”
“I don’t think we’re really here.” She closed her eyes and stilled.
Entranced, he watched her search her surroundings. Her power reached out, brushing up against him as it left her going out to do her bidding. Dark curls blew away from her face. Her full, red lips parted as she inhaled. He licked his lips. Tasty morsel.
Her eyes popped open. “This is a dream state. Similar to what one will experience in a vision.”
“You brought us into your mind?”
“I brought us somewhere.”
“Speak plainly fast, witch.”
“I think we’re on an astral plane. It’s why the sun isn’t affecting you.”
“Why would you bring us here?”
“I …” She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
He grunted. “How do we go back?”
He couldn’t tear his gaze from the sun. It’d been so long since he saw the golden ball and felt it’s soothing rays on his flesh. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“You tend to say that a lot around me.”
“What can I say? You bring out the best in me.” She shrugged and wiggled her toes, drawing his attention to the fact that she was barefoot.
He sneered. “Since this mess is yours to clean up, what do you suggest we do?”
“Explore and see if we can find a clue to why we’re here or how to get back.”
He gritted his teeth. “Walk.”
“Older men usually have better manners,” she muttered.
Exposed, angered, and out of his element, he longed to silence her with his hands. With the transition came a distance from control and humanity. The years chipped away at the sanctity of life, until it was nothing to snuff out the flickering candle that glowed inside every creature. The irreparable damage that came with watching everything you knew and loved fall away and die calloused the soul. It made rough places from those meant to be smooth and tender. He’d stopped thinking of himself as a member of the human race long ago, but the feel of the sun on his face shook something loose inside of him.
It’s not real. He chanted the words in his head as he scanned the area for signs of a threat. The powdery white sand, soothing sounds of the ocean to the left, and tropical palm trees with coconuts were a mirage. There was no going back to what he’d once been. It’d be foolishness to hope otherwise.
“Why the beach?” He frowned at the hot sun. A native of England, he’d never been one for tropical weather. Give him an overcast sky, brisk chill, and rain.
“I’m not sure. I haven’t been to a beach in ages.”
He froze. “If you’re not controlling this, who is?”
Her lower lip trembled, and she shook her head.
The rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. He turned to face the horizon and saw a group of gray clouds quickly approaching. Lightning flashed, too close for comfort.
“Move faster,” he snapped, returning his gaze to her.
“To where?”
&n
bsp; “Someplace farther from the water. I’m not willing to test the theory on what happens if we’re gravely injured here.”
A streak of bright light spiderwebbed close to the shore. Placing a hand on the small of her back, he guided her deeper into the lush jungle. A prickling sensation traveled down his spine. He scanned the area once more. They were being hunted.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered.
“Nothing.”
“I can feel how concerned you are.”
“I’m not certain. A feeling of foreboding is urging me to—”
The sand beside them exploded. He snatched her up and dodged to the left. White hot heat morphed sand into a quartz sculpture that stuck out of the ground. He glanced at the woman in his arms.
Letting instinct take over he continued to speed his way in a zig-zag pattern, staying ahead of the strikes as they moved to the heart of the landscape. In the distance, three waterfalls tumbled down a cliff that led to a flowing source of water. Dense forestry pressed in on either side, creating the perfect cover for a would-be attacker. Senses on alert, he focused.
“Oh my god. Crewe.” Her voice shook. “Look at the water.”
He turned to see the white spray had turned obsidian.
“She’s coming.”
“Who?”
“The Priestess. No matter what I do, I can’t escape her. She’s tainted my soul, and I’ll never get clean.” Her voice cracked, and a sob broke through.
A figure, darker than the black surface, began to emerge from the choppy waters. Rooted to the spot, he found himself unable to move. Straining to break the hold he growled low in his throat as the feminine form continued to rise. Dark tar-like substance dripped off the shapeless face.
“Fight her, witch,” he snapped.
Black smoke snaked from the creature along the ground, covering it like a dense fog. His chest tightened, and he felt the press of power as the fog engulfed them. The fog swirled around him, forming an impenetrable tornado. He choked on the scent of decay, gripping Keeta as tight against his chest as he could manage. A sense of weightlessness settled over him. He knew no more.
* * *
He opened his eyes and groaned as he moved away from the hard, cold slab he lay across. Sitting up, he jerked back, stunned. He’d been resting on a stone slab in front of a weathered off-white mausoleum. Stone angels with praying hands and cherub faces mocked him from either side. Rising, he took in the neat row of tombs and mausoleums. Why am I in a cemetery? Where’s Keeta? The scent of magic perfumed the air.
He could sense her through the bond close by and terrified. Following her signature, he sped through the rows of above ground graves. He stopped short of a mass of people clad in black around a crude altar. Markings etched in white chalk were the center of the group of woman and men. A tall woman swallowed down alcohol from a bottle and spit it onto the ground as the others changed. Their bodies began to move to the rhythm they kept. The dance started slowly and picked up along with the tempo. She jerked like a marionette controlled by a puppet master as she called out in Creole.
He spotted Keeta on the other side of the circle watching as another version of herself approached the woman with a chicken. Black blood magic, the kind that gave power at a cost most weren’t willing to pay. Her eyes were alight with joy, and her full lips were painted black and curved into a wicked grin.
“I didn’t understand what it truly meant,” she whispered too low for anyone other than a vampire to hear. “I was young and arrogant. I thought I could control it. The thing is you don’t control black magic. It controls you. It’s like an addiction. Yes. It makes you more powerful, but like any substance, you have to do more and more to get the same high.”
The former Keeta held up the chicken, and the woman ran her sharp blade over its throat. The blood dripped onto the etchings. The wind picked up in the cemetery. The white chalk glowed red with power.
The Priestess sprinkled more libations on the ground and lit a thick cigar. She blew smoke on the offering pile and added coins. As the chanting continued, an aura of power rose.
“We called him, Papa Leba, and he answered.”
Crewe watched transfixed as a cloud crept over the moon. The candles flickered out. The wicks relit, burning black, and a shadowy figure stood in the center. Broad shoulders, a wide-brimmed hat, and golden eyes were the only impression he could take as the being swept through the crowd touching each of them. One by one their heads fell back and they swayed slightly back and forth in a trance. Each lifted from the ground. An electric green haze surrounded them like a cocoon. They slowly spun in a circle faster and faster until they were a blur.
The ground shook, and a plant holder exploded behind them. All at once they fell to the ground in a heap.
The Priestess was the first to stir. A husky laugh spilled from her thin lips. Despite the bell-like quality, he felt like he’d stepped on a pile of slithering snakes. She stood and sauntered over to the blood in the circle. Sweeping her finger through the blood, she moved to Keeta and painted her lips.
“You are bound to me now, servant.” Repeating the process, she sank her magical hooks into the other nine people.
“That was the start of hell on Earth.”
“What did she do to you?”
“Infected us like a drug dealer giving the first taste. It took me nearly a year to break free. I lost everything, and I had to start over from scratch. Even worse, I had an inclination for the darkness. They saw me when they once wouldn’t have. Once you look into the darkness, the darkness looks back.”
“You liked it.”
“Worse. I loved it. I had to walk away and never look back, and even then … I have weak moments. Living uninhibited by rules or a moral compass was intoxicating. The power I attained—” She licked her lips.
He felt a stirring he ignored. Her nostrils flared, and the scent of desire teased his nose.
“Why are we here at this moment?”
She shook her head and lowered her gaze. “It’s my greatest shame.”
“We’ve all done things we aren’t proud of.”
“I didn’t say that.”
He scowled. “I heard you clearly.”
“I didn’t say it out loud. I thought it.”
He blinked. “Because we haven’t had enough surprises.”
Her peal of hysteric laughter tugged at his protective instincts. He flinched. It was wrong seeing the Spitfire like this. Their bond bid him fix her.
“We’re okay.”
“Okay? We don’t even know where we are or why. I’m reliving the worst period of my life, and it’s not even done yet. God.” She shuddered and gestured wildly toward the scene playing itself out like a horror movie. It chilled him to see her stand, eyes dull and vacant as she watched the Priestess like a zombie awaiting command. His hackles rose. Keeta didn’t belong to this magic wielding maniac. Her place was at his side. The bond flared. He wrapped an arm around her and drew her to him.
“This is your past. It’s a part of who you are, but it’s not everything. If I’ve learned anything, it’s this. What we did is not the sum of who we are. The good, bad, and in between meld together to create our present being. You can’t crucify yourself over one mistake—”
“It was a big one,” she stated, interrupting him.
“I assure you whatever wrongs you perceive mine are worse.” Words left his lips before he could silence them. “The term freelance came from people like me. Hired knights who fought for any cause that paid coin. I lead the life of a soulless bastard, with no fealty. Now, I’ll pay for it for eternity.”
She peered up at him wide-eyed. “You can’t believe that.”
“I know that.” Pity came through the link, burning him like acid. He batted away the emotion, slamming the link between them down. “Save your pity for someone who needs it.”
“You don’t get to tell me how to feel.”
That’s the fire I want to see. He’d take the irritation over
her bought of self-loathing and weakness. He needed her strong, and alert.
“Do you feel that?” she whispered.
“Feel what?”
She shivered. “The cold.” A lone snowflake drifted down from the sky. The cemetery melted away like crayon on a hot summer day. The imagery streaked, smeared, and swirled together. He blinked, swaying drunkenly as his senses were overwhelmed.
Chapter Five
KEETA
Teeth chattering, she rubbed her arms as she wiggled her toes. Ankle deep in the frozen white precipitation, she was out of her element. A tree provided partial shelter in the forest above a crude tent erected a few feet away from a circle of stones that housed a fire in the middle. Sensing Crewe’s approach, she turned. “What is this place?”
“The worst winters of my life.”
“Why are you squatting?” She frowned. Shouldn’t he be in a castle with a room and servant wenches falling all over him? “I thought you were a knight?”
“I was. We were required to provide for ourselves during our travel.” Her eyes widened. Food was not plentiful, or easily accessible in this time. This put a whole new view on knighthood. “I was on my way to the nearest town to seek out work when winter hit early, so I found shelter. The tree provided me with some shelter from the elements, and there’s hunting here.”
“Hunting?” Images of the beginning of Bambi ran through her head.
“Yes. Unless you live in a castle, where it’s done for the entire building, it’s the way of things. Food spoils easily. Crops aren’t genetically altered and guaranteed to yield produce, so you eat what you can when you can get it. Being picky wasn’t a luxury we possessed.” He moved to the tent, lifted the flap, and glanced inside. “My older self isn’t here yet, so he’s probably out hunting,” he said more to himself than her. Removed and stoic, he was near impossible to read. The bond helped, but he was fast growing accustomed and blocking her as much as he could.
