by Jayne Faith
She giggled another fifteen seconds. “Okay, I’m done.”
I planted my elbows on the table and propped my chin on my knuckles. “I know how dumb it sounds, but it’s actually not how I thought of myself. I don’t know, in my mind I thought I was attracted to guys who were . . . more subtle and refined? More private? I don’t know why I thought that. I’m clearly an idiot without a shred of self-awareness.”
Deb chewed her bottom lip, and her face turned serious as she tilted her gaze down at the table top. She scratched at an old coffee stain with her thumbnail. “You’re not an idiot . . . I’d say most of us think of ourselves as making better decisions, or maybe just different ones, than we actually do.” Her hand snuck down to briefly rest over her belly.
We both went quiet for a few seconds.
“Are you going to stay at my place tonight?” I asked.
“Is that okay?”
“Absolutely, stay as long as you need to. Hell, let’s go get all your shit and move you in.”
She snorted.
“Seriously, if you’re ready I’ll go with you to pick up your stuff.”
“No.” She gave a tiny sigh. “Not yet.”
I knew better than to push her right now. She became so fragile in sadness, I had to allow her to work through some of it, wait until her sadness became infused with a little anger before I tried to press her about leaving Keith.
“Hey, you promised me something, don’t think I’ve forgotten.” She pulled out her phone and powered it on. “I’m gonna find someone who can examine you ASAP.”
I grumbled deep in my throat. “Ugh. Fine. Let’s get it over with.”
Despite my sullen response, I curled the fingers of one hand into a loose fist and tapped my knuckles nervously against my lips as I watched Deb sitting across from me with her hair falling forward in a curtain as she bent over her phone.
“Okay.” Deb looked up and set her phone on the table. “My friend Jennifer is a witch who has an affinity for death-related stuff.”
“Wait,” I interrupted her. “Let me guess. She practices dark-edge magic?”
She blinked a few times, and then nodded. “I’m surprised you know that term.”
“I heard it recently for the first time.”
I peered at her from under hooded lids, suddenly wondering if she knew a lot of dark-edge witches. I never would have pegged Deb for the type to be interested in that sort of thing. She’d hadn’t ever mentioned it to me, at least. But then, I didn’t pay a whole lot of attention to the witch and coven stuff.
She looked down at her phone. “She says we can come over to her place now.”
We booth stood and stacked our silverware, mugs, and crumpled paper napkins on our plates and shuttled them to the cart stacked with tubs for dirty dishes.
“What are her rates?” I asked, already dreading how much cash I’d need to pull from an ATM. I wasn’t terribly eager to shell out more of my hard-earned money for help of the magical variety, seeing as how well the sleeping beauty spell had gone.
“She won’t charge us,” Deb said.
We started off at a brisk clip back toward my place.
“Really?” I eyed her again. “She must be a pretty good friend. Either that or she owes you.”
Deb slid a look at me and then shifted her gaze ahead. “She’s part of a group I’m in. A few of us are making a bid for the same coven, and we decided banding together and presenting ourselves as a cohesive package of skills and women who work well together might help our odds. We’ve gotten to know each other fairly well.”
I let a couple of seconds of silence pass. I trusted Deb not to dabble in anything dangerous, but a tiny warning was pinging at the back of my mind. “Are there other dark-edge witches in your group?”
She shrugged with nonchalance that I saw right through. “A couple.”
“Deb.” I waited until she was looking at me. “Are you sure they’re all safe? Good witches, no black magic?”
“They’re good people, I swear. You’ll see when you meet Jennifer, I think you’ll like her.”
I loved Deb, but I wasn’t going to take her word for it about Jennifer or any other dark-edge witch. Sometimes Deb seemed to miss giant red flags in other people’s behavior. Or maybe she was just too willing to overlook them, like with her husband. She wanted to think the best about people, and it was an endearing quality, but more than once it had led her to trust the wrong person.
Her phone jangled, and she glanced down at it. From the expression on her face, I figured it had to be Keith.
“You’re gonna have to talk to him at some point,” I said quietly. “Even if he’s an ass, he’s still your husband.”
She made a face. “Yeah, yeah.” It looked like she was deleting a string of texts from Keith.
“Maybe you should at least text him so he knows you’re okay.” I could hardly believe I was saying anything that made me sound like Keith’s advocate—believe me, I’d never been a fan—but part of me wanted Deb to face the situation and either find a way to work it out or make the decision to leave.
She hummed a noise of assent, quickly tapped out a message, and then shoved her phone in the back pocket of her cutoff shorts.
My place felt strangely quiet when we went in my apartment. Loki hopped off the foldout bed to greet us, and I let him out into the back yard while Deb used the restroom. I was tempted to check in with Roxanne via text, but didn’t want to seem like I was checking in. Instead, I snapped a picture of Loki in the yard and sent it to her.
He misses his buddy! I think he’s been sleeping on your pillow all day.
Roxanne sent back a smiley face, and then a message: These kids are turds. I think I need a raise.
I replied: LOL
Deb came out looking green. “Do you have any gum?”
“Yeah, in the junk drawer, I’ll get you some. Morning sickness?”
She blew out a long breath. “I guess so. I don’t puke that much. I just spend like half the day feeling on the verge of it, which is almost worse. Minty things seem to settle my stomach a little.”
I let Loki in and then locked the back door while I was in the kitchen getting Deb’s gum. When I returned to the living room she was slumped on the blue leather ottoman. I scrunched up my mouth in sympathy and passed her an unopened dollar store pack of spearmint.
“Do you need to rest before we go to Jennifer’s?”
She shook her head. “If I rest every time I feel nauseous, I’ll spend the whole day lying around.”
Deb drove us in her old blue Honda Civic with her phone plugged into the stereo and playing indie rock from the 90s at high volume. She often went through phases of listening to a certain era of music for months at a time. The AC didn’t work, so we rode with the windows down and our hair whipping around us, giving me flashbacks of when we were in high school and Deb had just bought the used Honda, which she’d named Deep Blue.
I hadn’t thought to ask where Jennifer lived, but when Deb headed west on Hill Road, a thought struck me.
“Is Jennifer a vampire?” I asked.
She glanced at me. “Yeah. She lives in Sunshine Valley.”
There was a large neighborhood nestled against the foothills where a vampire community had grown. I’d only been there once before and remembered that the immediate surrounding area was desert, which gave it a sense of isolation even though it was only minutes from a couple of main thoroughfares.
I squinted up at the hills to my right, trying to wrap my mind around the idea of a vampire witch.
“I’ve never heard of a vampire joining a witches’ coven,” I finally said, my voice raised to carry over the music. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a vampire with magical aptitude, actually.”
“I don’t think there are many of them, and I suspect the few crafting vampires out there just keep their ability to themselves.” She let out a little exhalation and reached over to the stereo console to turn down the volume. “I don’t blame th
em at all.”
“Yeah, me either. Just one more thing for the anti-vamp groups to latch onto. Your friend is brave.”
“Well, she’s not exactly taking out an ad in the Statesman to announce her magical ability or coven bid. It’s not secret, but it’s not something she really wants spread around.”
“Gotcha.” Maybe Deb was right about Jennifer. I had to at least give her credit for being a pioneer. If she got into a coven, I assumed she’d be the first of her kind to do so.
I gave Deb a sidelong look, considering both her and her bid for a coven in a new light. My friend had aligned herself with a vampire witch. That took some guts.
“Now I get why she has an affinity for death-related stuff,” I said.
Deb flipped me a wry nod.
Vampires were considered a species of undead, like zombies. The VAMP2 virus killed the human body, and then it reanimated in its vampire form. Unlike zombies, which didn’t retain any of their former memories, skills, or personalities, vampire minds were preserved and they brought with them everything their minds had held and experienced in their human lives. The classification of “undead” basically required two things: reanimation after physical death, and subsequent physiology that was markedly different than human physiology.
My heart seemed to stop for a moment.
I met the first criterion.
As my stomach began a slow twisting tumble, I rubbed my palms up and down the tops of my thighs a few times. “This should be interesting,” I whispered to myself.
Chapter 18
BY THE TIME we passed under the arch that welcomed us to Sunshine Valley, the sun was high in the sky, and I guessed the temperature was over 80 degrees. I wasn’t just sweating from the late summer heat and the twenty-minute drive without AC, though. Anticipation churned rhythmically around in my gut like the agitator of a washing machine.
At first glance, the sprawling subdivision looked like many of the others in the area. There were SUVs parked in driveways, teenagers on bikes, and a pickup game of basketball was in progress at neighborhood’s park. But a closer look revealed that everyone here possessed the ethereal glow of vampirism. In an odd sort of irony, the VAMP2 virus that killed them gave them smooth, flawless skin that was ageless. Literally ageless. Whatever age the human was when infected with VAMP2 was the age he or she remained forever, in appearance at least. In what was perhaps a merciful turn of nature and magic, children under the age of fifteen or so never survived the virus to come back as vampires. Occasionally VAMP2 killed older teenagers and adults as well, but it was unusual.
The ones who did survive the virus were essentially immortal, invulnerable to human diseases and the breakdown of old age. The ugly and violent period following the Rip had, unfortunately, shown exactly what methods were required to end a vampire’s existence permanently. Docile vampires could be killed only by silver poisoning, a stab through the heart with any type of wood or wood-laced object, or beheading. Wild vampires—those without implants—could be killed by those methods in addition to sunlight.
Deb steered through the residential streets and then pulled over to the curb in front of a one-story starter home with a neat yard and upgraded finishes. She killed the engine, and I saw the curtains stir in one of the windows.
When we were partway up the front walk, the door opened and a vampire with shining brown eyes greeted us. Jennifer was barely over five feet, with slim legs, a generous chest, and some extra weight around her torso—no, not all vampires were model thin and perfect looking, contrary to what certain movies and TV shows portrayed. But she did have that incredible skin and the magnetism that was a weak, implant-dulled manifestation of vampire glamor. She smiled at Deb and pulled her into a quick hug and then turned her attention to me.
“You must be Ella.” Jennifer held out her hand.
I grasped it, the coolness of her skin almost stone-like against mine. The shadows edging my vision stirred as if a sudden wind had disturbed them.
“Thank you for making time to see us,” I said. As soon as I let go of her hand, the swirling in my periphery settled.
“Are you kidding? I’m thrilled to help Deb. And what little she told me has me curious as shit about you.” She gave a throaty little cackle. Her face lit up when she spoke, and she moved her hands in little animated gestures. There was faint evidence of an upper East Coast accent, which piqued my curiosity. Could she be one of the early generations of post-Rip vampires?
I grinned, already warming up to the vampire witch.
“Do you live alone?” I asked, taking a quick look around.
The living room was cozy, with a handmade afghan thrown across the back of an overstuffed sofa, a cheerful variety of plants lining the narrow table under the front window, and a basket heaped with yarn and a couple of half-finished knitting projects next to a worn leather La-Z-Boy that faced the TV. A side table held a messy stack of trashy gossip magazines.
“Yup, bachelorette bitch, that’s me.” Jennifer moved farther into the room. “Can I offer you some iced tea? I still drink it all the time, out of habit.”
“Sure, that sounds great,” Deb said, and I nodded in agreement.
“Have a seat, make yourselves comfortable.” Our host disappeared into the kitchen, and a moment later I heard the sounds of ice cubes clinking into glasses.
As I sank down onto the sofa, I started to relax. This wasn’t at all how I’d pictured the abode of a dark-edge vampire-witch. Jennifer seemed like any young single woman in her first home. I didn’t even see any evidence of her devotion to witchcraft.
Jennifer brought in a little tray with three tall, slim glasses of iced tea and some packets of sweetener. I passed on the artificial stuff and drank mine straight.
We chitchatted for a couple of minutes about how we knew each other. Deb and Jennifer had met through a mutual witch friend about a year back. The vampire witch had indeed come from the East Coast, though she didn’t specify when. It could have been a couple of years ago or a couple of decades ago. That was the thing with vampires, you couldn’t tell how long ago they’d turned. There was speculation that very old vampires would eventually develop distinguishing characteristics, and there were a few whack jobs out there who claimed to have seen VAMP1 vampires—the secretive vamps of legends that had originated in the Old World, who would have been hundreds of years old by now if any still survived—but the VAMP2 population that was reborn after the Rip was too young to have any aged vamps.
During a little pause in the conversation, Jennifer gave one of her thighs a slap. “Well! Shall we see what we can discover about Ella’s predicament?”
“Sure,” Deb said. She smiled, but I read apprehension in her eyes.
My mouth had gone a little dry, so I just nodded.
The vampire witch stood, and Deb and I followed suit.
“I’ve got a witchy area set up in the spare bedroom,” Jennifer said. We followed her past the TV to a short hallway, and into a dark room.
My eyes began to adjust, and I saw there was a pagan altar set up on a trunk along the north wall. Blackout curtains were drawn over the single window. There was the scrape of a struck match and then a little flame, and I watched as Jennifer lit the two candles on the altar and then struck a second match for the three pillar jars that stood on a corner table. The light reflected off a couple of smoked glass mirrors that were propped against the walls at a right angle to each other.
She turned to us, shaking the match to extinguish it. “I’m going to cast a circle with Ella sitting in the middle facing me. Deb, you can sit in the circle behind her if you like, just take care not to disturb anything I weave. And fair warning to both of you, grave magic is chilly business, so get ready to cut glass with your—well, you know how the saying goes.”
I snorted a laugh, but the term “grave magic” was ringing around in my head like a bell’s toll echoing off the hills. Jennifer opened a narrow door and pulled three cushions out of the closet. She set them up in a nort
h-south line on the floor. I settled cross-legged on the middle one with the altar in front of me and watched as she gathered a few items, including one of the mirrors.
“Ella, grave magic is different than regular magic,” Jennifer said. “You have to pass through a gateway to access it. I don’t know what form that will take for you—it’s a fairly personal thing. For me, it’s usually jumping off a cliff. Imaginary, of course. It’ll probably be something you’ll want to resist. Just be prepared to take some sort of leap, so to speak.”
“Just go for it, got it,” I said.
I heard Deb sit down behind me and took some comfort in her presence. I was confident Jennifer wouldn’t harm me. My apprehension stemmed from a certainty that the next few minutes would reveal answers to my questions, and you know what they say about being careful what you ask for? I smoothed my damp palms along my cargo shorts and took a slow breath.
Stillness seemed to settle over the room like a morning mist, and I watched Jennifer’s back as she stood facing her altar. She was whispering to herself, but I couldn’t quite make out the words. Then, she turned and began moving clockwise from the altar. In her right hand she held a crystal wand—a white stone, selenite, perhaps. She pointed it at the ground, tracing a magical circle as she recited a casting spell. I suddenly realized I hadn’t sensed her level of magical aptitude. I still couldn’t, and I wondered if she had some sort of powerful obfuscation spell that masked her abilities, or if being a vamp made them invisible. She was casting a circle that glowed as a faint magenta trace, a color of magic I’d never witnessed.
When she made her way back around to the altar and completed the circle, the air seemed to pressurize slightly, pushing against my eardrums. She turned, and I sucked in a sharp breath as I took in the two glowing points of her irises. Her eyes illuminated with the same purple-pink light of her circle.
My pulse ratcheted up as she lowered herself to the cushion in front of me. She mirrored my posture, crossing her legs, and our knees were only inches from each other. Her breathing slowed as her casting trance deepened, and her gaze seemed to go right through me.
