by L.H. Cosway
The look he shot me was sobering. “Do you have any clue about my people? We do not simply bow down to an attack. We fight against it. Vampires have staked their claim in Tribane for a long time. They will not simply run away with their tails between their legs. There will be a war even worse than the one we just fought.”
“So, we keep killing the mist every night before it has a chance to infect people,” Rita said. “Theodore can keep bringing it over, and we’ll just keep killing it. Simple as that.”
“She has a point,” Finn agreed.
“But then the fight will never end. It could be a continual struggle for years and years,” Ethan objected.
“Well, that’s nothing new. I’ve been killing vampires for years. It can’t be much different from killing the chaos mist.”
Ethan advanced on him, and I startled in fright. Delilah pulled her brother back, whispering soothing words in his ear. After a moment, Ethan calmed down, and I suddenly realised I was flicking the razor in and out more rapidly, shifting it from one hand to the other out of nervousness.
“Oh, my God!” Rita exclaimed when her eyes landed on me. “Where the hell did you learn how to do that?”
Everyone looked at me then, and I let the blade fall to the floor.
“What?” I asked, confused.
“You were flicking that thing around like a ninja,” Alvie said. “I was watching you.”
“Is that the razor Finn gave you?” Rita asked.
“Um, yeah.”
She turned to Finn. “Where did you get it from?”
“I have a set of them. They belonged to my grandfather. He was a barber in his day.”
“Aha! So, it has meaning for you?” Rita questioned him further.
“Yeah, quite a bit actually. My grandfather taught me how to shave with them when I was in my teens.”
“A meaningful gift given to one who means something to you can be a powerful thing, especially if the gift is bestowed upon a person with magic,” Noreen interjected sagely.
“Meaning …” Finn prompted.
“Meaning Tegan is your close friend and she has magical powers, so when you gifted her the blade there was an exchange of power, or skill to be exact. Through the giving of the gift, you have also given her your talent for using it,” Noreen explained further.
Finn turned to me with an affectionate grin. “I guess that saves me the time of teaching you how to use it.”
“Yeah,” I said, a little shocked as I bent to pick up the blade. So, now I had knife skills? Life was so bloody weird.
Rita smiled at me. “Every day it’s something new with you. Tomorrow we’ll probably discover that you can time travel.”
“Now that would be handy,” I said, closing the razor and slipping it back inside my pocket.
“Can we get back to the topic at hand?” Ethan requested coldly. He didn’t seem pleased that Finn had magically gifted me the talent of being able to wield a razor blade.
“I plan to continue researching Theodore’s connection to hell,” Gabriel said, putting the conversation back on track. “Perhaps there’s a way for us to break it. If we can do that, then it’ll be one less thing he has in his favour.”
“Well, if that’s everything, we have a long night ahead of us. We better get moving,” Delilah said, rising from her seat. Lucas and Rita followed her from the room, but Ethan hung back, eyes on me. “I’d like to talk with you in private for a moment, if that’s okay?”
“Sure,” I said, and little by little, everyone departed, leaving me alone in the kitchen with Ethan. He stared at me for so long I started to become self-conscious.
“What?”
“Is there something between you and … Finn?” I could see it took great effort for him to use his name rather than simply referring to him as ‘the slayer’.
“Yes,” I answered. “Friendship.”
“It’s more than friendship. I see how he looks at you,” Ethan said, and my chest pinched. The idea of Finn crushing on me hurt because I knew I’d have to let him down eventually and that conversation was going to suck.
“He’s my best friend. I don’t know what I’d do without him,” I replied, being honest before I challenged, “Why do you care anyway?”
Ethan’s expression darkened. “Believe me, I wish I didn’t.”
“But you do care?” I questioned, and something seemed to snap in him.
He moved fast, picking me up and sitting me on the counter. He pushed my thighs apart, palming them as he lowered his nose to my neck and inhaled. “Your scent haunts my dreams,” he rasped, brushing his mouth along my jawline. The sensual move solicited a small moan from me. At the noise, Ethan gripped the back of my neck, his bare palm like silk against my skin. “You’ll be the death of me,” he said, and then, just like that, he was gone.
Damn vampire speed!
I shook my head. If Ethan wanted to continue pretending that he hated me more than he wanted me, then so be it. I began cleaning the kitchen, trying to distract myself from the fact that he’d turned me on and left me hanging. The trash was full, so I tied up the bag to bring it outside. Stepping into the back garden, I swore I heard a voice. Whoever it was, it sounded like they were praying. I took another step, and it ceased immediately.
Squinting my eyes in the dark, I spotted Ira sitting cross-legged on the grass.
“What are you still doing out here?” I asked. “It’s getting late.”
Obviously, it was pointless waiting for him to answer, but I did it anyway. I was convinced it had to be him I heard praying. Ira sat still, watching me silently. I put the bag down and walked over to him.
“I thought I heard someone talking. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
He gave me nothing, not even a nod or a shake of his head. I wasn’t prepared to let it go though. If Ira could speak, then I wanted to know, and I wanted to know why he chose to be mute. I sat down next to him and crossed my legs like his.
“It’s sort of nice out here at night. Peaceful,” I commented.
I might as well have been talking to myself for all the response I got. Ira closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
“You know,” I continued. “If you have a reason for not talking around everyone, you can tell me. I promise to keep it secret. That way you’ll have at least one person you can speak to.”
He opened his eyes and speculatively studied me.
“I won’t breathe a word. You can trust me,” I promised.
I thought he was about to say something then, but the words never came.
“I know you can understand me,” I went on. “I can see it in your eyes when I look at you. I’d like to hear you speak, Ira. We’re friends, at least I think we are. When you were a dog, I really adored you, you know. You were such a comfort to me.”
When I still got no reply, I fell silent, resigning myself to the fact that he wasn’t going to speak to me tonight, even if it was him I heard. A few more minutes passed, and I leaned back to lie on the grass, closing my eyes and enjoying the soothing coldness of the earth.
“I don’t know how to … be like this anymore,” came a deep voice, and I startled, blinking my eyes open as I sat up to gape at Ira.
“Please tell me that wasn’t my imagination. You did speak just now, didn’t you?”
He inclined his head. “I did.”
I smiled widely. “Wow, you have a lovely voice.” It was deep and masculine and sexy, but I didn’t mention that.
He returned my smile with a small one of his own. “Thank you.”
Several moments passed before I asked, “What did you mean when you said you don’t know how to be like this anymore?”
He didn’t speak for a long moment, then said, “I don’t know how to be human. I spent twenty-five years confined in my animal form, voiceless, always on the outside looking in. Now that my original body has been restored, I don’t know how to be in it. I feel like a stranger in my own skin.”
&n
bsp; I stared at him, finding it odd to hear him speak so many words when he’d been silent all this time. “You’ll adapt. Twenty-five years is a long stretch. It’s going to take more than a few weeks for you to get used to it.”
He soaked in my words. “I don’t speak because it’s my one last comfort to be without a voice, to be like I was as a dog.”
“Oh,” I replied, thinking it over. “Well, that makes a lot of sense. I’m sorry for being pushy. It’s just that I heard you praying, and I really wanted you to talk to me. It’s strange living with a person who never speaks.”
That got another small smile out of him.
“You were praying, weren’t you?” I asked.
“I was chanting. I was a Buddhist before the witch cursed me. It’s been so long since I could pray out loud.”
His mention of the curse piqued my interest. “Why did she do it? Why did the witch curse you, I mean?”
Ira frowned, memories flashing across his face. “My father had a gambling addiction and found himself in serious debt. Being a shapeshifter like me, he also moved in supernatural circles. A very wealthy warlock offered to loan him the money to pay off his debts in return for him spending the rest of his days as a bodyguard for the warlock’s family. My father agreed to the loan, but instead of staying and paying off his debt through labour, he left the city and disappeared.”
“Unable to find my father, the warlock showed up at the house where my mother and I lived, demanding the money my father owed. We weren’t a family of means, so we didn’t have it. The warlock said that he’d write off my father’s debt if I took his place as a bodyguard, so I agreed.”
“You went to work for him?”
“That was when I first met Noel, the man who originally owned this house.”
“Finn’s friend?”
Ira nodded. “Noel was a slayer for the DOH, but he moonlighted as a bodyguard. The warlock’s family was practically royalty among the magical people of this city. They had many vampire enemies and that’s why they needed round the clock security. I was quite happy in my job for about two years. That was before the lady of the house, Emilia, began to take an interest in me.
“Her husband was unaware that she was having numerous affairs behind his back. They had only one child, a daughter, and the warlock spent most of his time obsessing about keeping her protected from their vampire enemies. I had no intention of becoming involved in Emilia’s adultery, and I told her so. For months she made various attempts to lure me into her bed. I continued to decline her advances until, finally, she’d had enough of my rejection.
“Being a witch, she could weave many spells, and she decided I needed to be punished. She cursed me to live out my life in my animal form, never again knowing the pleasures of the human body. And that was how I remained, up until the recent magic released me from my imprisonment.”
I stared at him, gob-smacked both by his story and by how much he’d just spoken after not breathing a word for weeks. “I hope that she got her comeuppance in the end,” I said, frowning, because I just couldn’t accept her getting away scot-free after what she did to poor Ira.
“I don’t know what happened to her. Perhaps her husband discovered her deceit. He was a powerful warlock, and not a forgiving one. She might very well be suffering under her own curse right now.”
“She better be,” I said fervently, pausing to study him. “If this all happened twenty-five years ago, how old are you now?”
“I’m almost fifty, but shapeshifters age slowly. Our life expectancy is about 150 years.”
“That’s a nice length of time. It’s not too long like a vampire’s lifespan, or too short like a human’s. Are you going to speak to the others now? I’m sure Finn would be delighted to hear you talk.”
“Finn is a good man. He is very enamoured with you.”
Okay, that was a little random. I tensed. “What do you mean?”
“He loves you. I can see it in his eyes. He will take good care of you.”
Letting out a nervous snort, I disagreed, “He doesn’t love me.”
“Maybe not yet, but I can see it growing. Do you believe the vampire loves you?”
“Ethan? Why do you ask that?”
“When you are silent, you see more than those who speak.”
I crossed my arms. “Hmm, well, I think he might have some feelings for me, but no, I don’t think Ethan loves me.”
“Creatures of his age are not insusceptible to love, but it is a lot rarer for them to fall.”
Silence fell, and my thoughts wandered to Ethan. Could he ever love me? Did I want him to? He was possessive enough as it was and right now he could barely stand to be in the same room as me. I couldn’t imagine how things would be if we fell in love.
I looked back to Ira. “You never answered my question. Are you going to talk to the others?”
“I’ll consider it. However, I’d prefer not to speak with the witches, especially the younger one.”
“Rita? Why not?”
He was quiet for a long moment before replying, “I can see a malevolence in her, one not too different from Emilia’s. When it comes down to it, she will do what works best for her, whether or not it is moral.”
“You’re wrong. Rita’s a good person,” I defended, even as I remembered how she’d been with Brian. Was Ira right? Was there a darkness in Rita that hadn’t yet come to the fore?
“Don’t you consider me a witch?” I asked. “I have magic.”
“You’re only half a witch, and you were not raised in the way of magic. You’re very human in your behaviour. You don’t understand your magic, but that’s not a bad thing. Those who understand their power are susceptible to being corrupted by it.”
I let that sink in. Perhaps my lack of skill wasn’t such a negative after all.
“You’re very insightful, you know.”
“I see the world and I interpret it as best I can. If that is insight, then I suppose you are right.”
“Come on, let’s go inside. It’s getting cold out here. Do you want to help me build a fire?”
“Yes, I’d like that,” Ira replied, following me into the house.
Finn kept a spare bucket of coal in the closet under the stairs, so I took it out and, with Ira’s help, loaded up the fireplace before topping it off with a few firelighters. I put one of Finn’s DVDs on, and we sat down to watch it. About halfway through Finn came downstairs, exclaiming loudly about how nice it was to walk into a toasty living room with the fire going. He settled in next to me on the couch, and I tried not to think about the fact that Ira had spoken to me and especially not about what he said about Finn being in love with me. I knew he liked me, but love? That was stretching it a bit.
I was deep in thought when I sensed someone’s attention. Flicking my gaze to the side, I found Finn gazing at me, and something in my chest tightened. He looked away, seeming a little embarrassed, and my heart squeezed. If Ira was right and Finn really was in love with me, well, that made living here a whole lot more complicated.
8.
Swooooooosh. I aimed the fire extinguisher at the mist hovering at the end of the dark alley. I almost tumbled over from the force of using it. The mist disintegrated on contact, and I grinned in triumph. This must’ve been what it was like for those people who went to shooting ranges to blow off stress. Only more fun—way more fun.
“Okay, Miss Trigger Happy, take it easy, would you?” Finn yelled as he came running into the alley after me.
He was dressed in his black DOH uniform, which I had to admit was quite fetching. I’d taken off at warp speed when I spotted the mist slithering down a side street. In an unlikely turn of events, I actually outran Finn when he started chasing me. Must’ve been my adrenaline.
Earlier today, Finn asked me to join him and Ira with the DOH on their mist hunt. Pamphrock had divided his men into teams, assigning them different shifts at various times of the day so that the chance of the mist infecting people was minimised.
>
I followed Finn to another back alley. Alleys and side streets seemed to be the places the mist frequented most during daylight. It was like it knew it’d be more likely to be seen out on the main thoroughfares, and the idea that it had conscious thought was unsettling.
I stumbled in fright when I saw just how much mist was back here. It slithered along walls, crept by window boxes. One of Finn’s trainee slayers, Danny, appeared, obliterating the mist with his extinguisher. Somehow, this seemed to anger it. The mist that remained conglomerated into an almost solid mass and started to make a distorted humming noise.
“Well, that’s not creepy at all,” I said to Finn. Several other young slayers appeared behind us, each with their extinguisher at the ready.
“All at once,” Finn shouted. “On the count of three. One … two … three.”
On three, they let loose on the mist. This time it didn’t evaporate though. The edges faded, but the centre held strong.
“Shit,” Finn muttered, before ordering loudly. “And again!”
Again, they unleashed Rita’s concoction on the mist, and it rose against the attack. Black and grey swirled within it, as though working to make a shape. Suddenly, it wasn’t a featureless mass anymore, but a face with deep, dark holes for eyes. The mouth opened, and tendrils seeped out, lashing at the slayers.
“This isn’t good,” I said, panicking.
“Nope,” Finn replied, striding forward and spraying at a tendril that reached for one of the slayers. He wasn’t fast enough. The mist got into the slayer, and he dropped his extinguisher. His face contorted, the possession taking hold.
“Retreat!” the slayer demanded in a strangely robotic voice as he turned to face us.
“The mist is communicating through him,” Finn said, sounding genuinely afraid.
The slayer’s entire body puffed up, and his mouth opened wide, all of his teeth showing. I could hear his bones cracking as more and more mist filled him—too much for his body to hold. It was truly horrific. “REEEEEE-TREEEEAT!!”
