Tegan's Magic

by L.H. Cosway

  “Out,” Ethan orders, his jaw a little tight.

  Lucas grins and glances at his fingernails. “You and I are supposed to be going somewhere, remember?”

  “We’ll go tomorrow. I’m busy, and I said get out.” Ethan’s voice is calm but I can tell Lucas’ presence is irritating him.

  “Where were you two gonna go?” I ask.

  Lucas flashes his fangs at me. “Just out for a couple…refreshments. You want to volunteer instead?”

  I immediately understand his meaning, drawing away from Ethan. “Oh. You should probably get going then. I’ve never been the volunteering type.”

  I hold myself together, making sure that I don’t let my discomfort show. I never even thought to wonder where they might be getting their blood from these days. Surely they don’t have access to their usual donors now that they’ve been exiled from the south side.

  “I can feed tomorrow,” says Ethan, pulling me back to him. “It’s no big deal.” He stops to look at Lucas. “You can go alone if you’re unable to wait.”

  “Fine,” Lucas answers, rising from the sofa.

  “Hang on,” I say. “Where do you go for blood around here anyway?”

  He shrugs and I feel Ethan’s hold on me tighten. “Night clubs. Drunk humans are much more easy to compel.”

  “Right,” I reply, not liking the sound of that one bit. “Well will you at least promise me you won’t feed from the same human twice?”

  Lucas laughs, but there’s a spike of anger to it. “I have no inclination of creating another Amanda, if that’s what you’re implying.”

  “You sure about that?” I question. If I’m not mistaken, he seems a little bitter in his mentioning of Amanda, bitter and forlorn. God, don’t tell me he bloody misses her. That’s just fucked up.

  “Positive,” he answers harshly and then leaves the room. A few moments later the front door opens and slams shut.

  “I can’t believe it,” I whisper to myself.

  “You can’t believe what?” a sexy voice asks me. I’d almost forgotten that Ethan had his arms wrapped around me.

  “I think Lucas might be secretly pining for Amanda.”

  “The pink haired girl?”

  “Yeah. He misses having her throw herself all over him, I imagine. Not to mention having a ready supply of blood on tap.”

  Ethan’s laugh vibrates through me, his lips touching my hair. “You only think that because you see him as selfish and cold. Lucas might have his flaws, but he’s not as bad as you imagine.”

  “Yeah well, you only think that because your standards are different to mine. And you didn’t have to help nurse Amanda back to health after her addiction. She would have died if we hadn’t used magic.”

  “I apologise on Lucas’ behalf for that ordeal, but can we not talk of this? I want you in my bed.”

  Trying to break from his hold is a futile effort, so I squeeze my eyes shut and call a little magic to me. It strengthens my muscles and enables me to shift out of his arms. Wow, that was impressive, even if I do say so myself.

  “You are surprisingly strong for one so small,” Ethan says, with a mixture of amusement and suspicion.

  “What can I say, I work out,” I quip, even though the closest I ever get to working out is fighting off vampires and sorcerers who are after my blood – and intent on my death.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he questions, seeing me move closer and closer to the door.

  “I told you this can’t happen.”

  “And I’m telling you that it can. Let yourself go for a change.”

  “I let myself go last night. That should keep me tided over for a while.”

  He grins, showing me his fangs. “Don’t play hard to get, Tegan. I’ve always enjoyed a good hunt.”

  Adrenaline spikes through me, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t slightly exhilarating. Feeling brave, I bolt from the room.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Sun Still Sets On You

  Ethan’s in an unusually playful humour. I know this because he comes after me at human speed, rather than vampire. If he had used vampire speed he would have caught me before I even made it out of the living room. I squeal as he chases me, but I stop in my tracks when I get to the front garden.

  I spot Delilah making her way over to Finn’s house. She doesn’t go in the front door, instead she sneaks quickly around the back. A second later Ethan has scooped me up into his arms and is hauling me back inside his house. I try to wriggle my way out of his hold.

  “Put me down for a second. I want to go see what Delilah is up to,” I say.

  Ethan raises an eyebrow. “Delilah?”

  “Yeah, I just caught sight of her sneaking around the side of Finn’s place. Come on, let’s go do some sleuthing.”

  Ethan sets me on my feet and I turn to walk across the road. He grabs my arm and pulls me back, clucking his tongue at me. I look up at him questioningly.

  “My sister will hear you a mile off if you go by foot. Come here, I’ll show you how it’s done.” At this he effortlessly swings me up onto his back, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. “Hold on tight,” he says, just before he speeds off and my head feels like it’s inside a psychedelic dream where everything shifts too quickly and not in the correct order. All I can see is a mish mash of brick walls, glass windows and the black tarmacadam of the road.

  Before I know it, Ethan has scaled the roof of Finn’s house and is crouched over the edge, allowing us to peer down into the garden. At the very back of the space sits Ira, deep in meditation. Delilah is standing silently by the house watching him.

  “What’s she doing?” I whisper in Ethan’s ear as quietly as I can. I think he shudders a little when my breath touches his skin.

  “It seems Delilah has found herself a new object of fascination,” he whispers back even more quietly.

  At this I remember noting how Delilah always seems to find a moment to watch Ira when he isn’t looking, which is often because he can be so inside his own head at times. I don’t think Ira’s aware of this in the slightest.

  “Object of fascination?” I probe.

  “Delilah finds others appealing very rarely. So it takes a particularly special individual to capture her attention.” His eyes smoulder at me. “We are very similar in that way; when somebody turns our head we become fixated on them to the point of obsession.”

  “Has anybody ever told you that you two are a weird family?”

  He smiles. “Not in so many words.”

  “So you’re basically saying that Delilah has the hots for Ira. Why doesn’t she just make a move then? If I were Ira and I caught her standing there looking at me like I’m a slab of meat she wants to sink her little dhamphir fangs into, I’d be well freaked out.”

  “Take a look at the shapeshifter, Tegan. He’s no little waif. I doubt her behaviour would freak him out as it does you.”

  I snicker at him using my modern turn of phrase alongside his olden times speak. “Did you just call me a little waif?”

  “I believe I did.”

  “Well, I’m not an orphan and I’m certainly not weak. Does anyone even use the word “waif” anymore?”

  “I’m sure there are some. I favour it when referring to pixie-like outcasts such as yourself.”

  “I’m not a pixie, I’m a witch. Get it right, vampire,” I say to him teasingly. I know some people would take offence to being called an outcast, but I kind of like the term, and I know Ethan meant it only in an affectionate manner.

  It’s nice to be able to joke around with him, like we’re just two normal people. Then again, I doubt two normal people would be joking around while crouched at the edge of a roof in the dark, spying on a dhamphir and a shapeshifter.

  He runs his hand over my thigh and squeezes hard. “Quiet, I think she’s going to approach him.”

  My eyes wander back down to Delilah, where I see her walking toward Ira. She sits down on the grass a few
feet away from him and he opens his eyes.

  He doesn’t say a word, so Delilah speaks first. “You knew I was standing there, didn’t you.”

  Our position up on the roof has excellent acoustics, so we can hear Delilah loud and clear. The atmosphere around the two of them crackles. This is so good. In my head I’m secretly willing them to start kissing each other’s faces off, revealing their hidden love affair. Unfortunately, I don’t get my wish.

  “I heard you breathing,” Ira answers after a long stretch of silence.

  “You pretended you didn’t know,” Delilah sighs.

  “Does that bother you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “You barely talk to anyone. It’s frustrating.”

  Their conversation reminds me a little of the one I had with Ira when he spoke to me for the very first time. The only difference is that, unlike Delilah, I wasn’t so obviously intent on getting it on with him.

  “I speak when I have something to say. I don’t see the point of spewing words just to fill a silence. My mother used to say that the loudest mouths are always attached to the emptiest vessels.”

  “That might be true, but those who don’t speak make me suspicious. It usually means they have something to hide.”

  Oh. Maybe she doesn’t want him in the biblical sense. Perhaps this is more of an interrogation than a romantic interlude.

  “I am an open book. Ask me a question and I’ll answer it for you,” Ira tells her and then he closes his eyes. It’s like he’s ending the conversation, despite his invitation for her to ask him anything. I can see Delilah visibly bristle.

  “I take back what I said about your silence. You’re even more frustrating when you speak.”

  Ira’s eyes shoot open again. “If I have offended you, it wasn’t my intention.”

  Delilah makes an effort to calm herself down. “No, no, it’s fine. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m very much on edge these days. I’ve had a rough few weeks.”

  “You look like a woman who has survived worse,” Ira comments.

  “You could say that,” Delilah agrees, gathering herself. “I apologise for interrupting your meditation. I should go.”

  “You can join me, if you like,” Ira offers, gesturing to the empty patch of grass beside him. “If you are stressed it will clear your head.”

  She takes a moment to respond, her body language uncomfortable. Finally, she takes a breath and walks over to sit beside him. As they both close their eyes, Ethan pulls us away from the roof edge.

  “Hey,” I say in whispered protest. “It was just about to get interesting.”

  He smirks at me. “You’re quite the little voyeur.”

  “Ugh, when you put it like that you make me sound like a pervert.” Though to be perfectly honest, if they had started sexing it up I probably would have stayed and watched the entire thing. Yep, I’m a pervert.

  He brings me to the centre of the roof, before pulling me to his front as he stretches his body out, laying me on top of him.

  “It’s strange being up here,” I say, after a few quiet moments of staring ahead at the starless sky.

  “Ah, déjà vu,” Ethan mutters, tracing his fingers up and down my arms.

  “Huh?”

  “The first night I met you it was a starless night just like this one. I sat on the roof of my house with Delilah, staring up at the sky. We spoke about the perils of loving a human.”

  “I think it’s slightly more perilous for a human to love a vampire,” I counter.

  I can feel him smiling when his jaw moves against my hair. “The perils go both ways, I suppose.”

  “Okay, explain it to me then. How is it dangerous for a vampire to love a human?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? You age and die, while we stay young and unchanged.”

  Thinking about it, that does sound rather depressing. “I guess. But then why don’t you just keep your sights set on vampire women? It would save you the heartache. Besides, vampires are a hell of a lot more attractive than humans, so I can’t imagine it’d be too hard to fall in love with one.” Okay, I wish I hadn’t said all that. It kind of revealed some of my own feelings in a round about way.

  “That’s a good question. The thing is, I don’t find vampire women appealing because they are too similar to me, too polished. Humans are so much more passionate and unpredictable – exciting you could say. The unpredictability draws me, as well as my attraction to their blood.”

  “Oh.”

  “Do you remember some of the things I said to you in my bed, the first night we had sex?” he asks, no holds barred

  “Uh, not really. I was a little zoned out. I do remember you speaking a lot of Romanian.” And it being hot as all hell.

  He pulls me in tight, pressing his fingers into the dip at my hip bone. His other hand travels to my neck, where he caresses my throat. I tremble against him. “I tend to revert back to my mother tongue when I get…excited,” he explains.

  I tremble again. Ninety-five per cent of the words that leave his mouth are just plain shiver inducing, whether it’s sexy shivers or scary shivers. A mixture of both is good too. “So, what were some of the things you said to me?”

  “There were many. Only one was important.”

  “And that was?”

  He sucks at my neck all open-mouthed and I turn to mush. Then he breathes in my ear, “Te iubesc. Look it up.”

  God, I love it when he lets his old accent slip out like that. “Why can’t you just tell me?” I groan as he twists me around so that we’re face to face.

  His smile is evil. “Because I’m shy.”

  I bark out a laugh. “You, Ethan Cristescu, are so far away from shy it could break a world record.”

  “Fine. I’m mysterious then.”

  He lifts me up and before I know it he’s running down the roof and dropping us to the ground, so smooth I barely even feel it. Things go blurry again for a few brief seconds and then we’re inside his house and he’s throwing me onto his bed. He pulls my top off over my head and begins kissing and licking his way down my stomach, before unbuttoning the top of my pants.

  “What…huh…I told you this wasn’t happening,” I protest weakly.

  He flicks his tongue along my belly, where I’ve broken out into extreme goosebumps. “I think your body’s telling me otherwise, fata frumoasa,” he grins and nuzzles my abdomen.

  “Oh yeah, that’s right. Go ahead and break out the Romanian. You know I can’t fucking say no to that accent.”

  I groan when his hand slips inside my pants, sliding over my hot folds before pulling my trousers down my legs. He throws them to the floor and kisses his way up my inner thigh. When his lips meet my core, gentle, barely there, I moan loudly. I watch as his fangs slip out and he runs them carefully over my little bundle of nerves. Good God. He does it in such a way as to not cut me, and my goodness does it feel unimaginable. His dark eyes shine up at me wickedly, and I lose myself to their depths and the sensation of his mouth moving against me.

  The next morning I’m tired. I hardly slept. I spent the night mesmerised by Ethan. When we’re alone together he has this way of making me forget everything else. There are no problems, no other people, no villains – just us. I could tell he was getting sleepy as it got nearer to morning. He told me that all vampires can sense when the sun is close to coming up. It’s a survival instinct.

  I watched in fascination as his features turned sleepy and he finally drifted off. Then, like the total weirdo that I am, I spent some time memorising his face in slumber before I fell under myself. I didn’t sleep for long though. I never do these days, not unless I’m completely exhausted. I have this anxiety in my belly that always manages to wake me up, this urgency that I need to be doing something. Living in this city means that there’s always somebody who needs saving, or some mission to be carried out.

  I throw on my clothes and as I pass by the spare bedroom I can hear Edwards snoring loudly. He so
unds like a gigantic bumble bee. I knock on his door and the snoring immediately ceases. I wait a minute or two before peeking my head in the door. He’s sitting up in the bed with the blankets tucked around him, his grey hair sticking out in every direction.

  “Good morning!” he exclaims. “My word, I think I slept nearly fifteen hours straight last night. After all the excitement of rescuing your father I must have needed it.”

  “I can imagine,” I smile at him. “Are you hungry? I was going to make some breakfast.”

  “I’d absolutely love some,” he answers. “I’ll just make myself presentable and I’ll be right down.”

  He really is very enthusiastic. It’s strange to think that he’s half demon. If I had to guess I would have put him down as half fairy or something; he’s just so positive all the time.

  I leave him to get dressed and go downstairs to see what Ethan has in his fridge. I half expect to find nothing but bottled blood, but when I open it all I find is a very normal fridge, stocked with very normal food. I absently wonder if Ethan ever drinks blood that doesn’t come straight from the vein.

  I’m eager to get over to Finn’s and check on my dad, so I throw together some French toast and coffee. Edwards arrives down just as I’m setting it on the table, and we eat quickly. I think Edwards is just as eager to see how my dad’s doing as I am. Whenever he talks of him he refers to him so fondly. I guess the two of them must have made quite the bond during their ordeal in hell.

  Edwards tells me that my dad was conscious throughout most of their journey home, but that he was far from being in his right mind. It was the transition through the dimensional door that took the strength out of him. I put our few dirty dishes in the sink, and sucking in a breath for courage, I lead him over to Finn’s.

  Finn is making his way down the stairs just as we’re going in the front door. When he sees me his face momentarily shows some kind of conflict, but it quickly vanishes and he plasters on a smile.

  “I just checked on Martin. He’s still sleeping,” he tells us, before pulling something out of his back pocket.