by L. M. Pruitt
“I’m not doing it again. I’m tired, my whole body aches. There’s paper and crap everywhere that somebody, probably me, is going to have to put back in place.” I threw myself into the closest chair. Huffing out a breath caused my overly long bangs to float briefly on the air. I narrowed my eyes at Gillian. “I’m not doing it, and you can’t make me.”
Gillian stood in the center of the debris-strewn room, arms folded serenely, hands clasped together at her waist. “You are aware you sound like a petulant child.” I crossed my own arms, my annoyance ratcheting up a notch or two. “And I could, if I truly wanted to, make you continue practicing.”
I rolled my eyes at her. “So says you. Even if you could, we both know you wouldn’t, so as far as threats go it’s not a good one.” Her silence confirmed I’d pegged her and quite possibly won our first real argument. I took my reprieve to survey the damage again, wincing as I realized it was worse than I’d originally thought.
After I’d woken from my medically, and vampirically, induced sleep and taken a few steps to look slightly less like a week old non-animated corpse, I’d headed down to the first floor in the hopes of finding the kitchen. I’d figured it’d take me half the night, but some smart ass had taped little maps throughout the house. My money was on Williams. The kind with “you are here”, and where everything else is in relation to your position.
I always feel slightly “special” when I have to read those maps, but I’ve never gotten lost using one.
I found the kitchen in less than five minutes. Even better, I found other people who’d already cooked enough food to feed an army. Some of the appliances looked like things I imagined on a space ship and I figured somebody else cooking was best for everyone. With my luck I would have made something blow up.
I grabbed a plate and piled it high with eggs, bacon, and other breakfast type foods. Sliding into a chair between two guards and across from Williams, I joked, “Keep this up and I’ll be ruined for work in less than a week.”
“Your work now is the Covenant. By the end of tomorrow you’ll have a fully staffed house.” Gillian spoke from her place at the head of the table. Like everything else in the Crossroads, it was built for large parties. By large, I meant huge. All of my guard, again at twelve, Gillian, Williams, and myself were seated comfortably, and we probably could squeeze another five or so in with us. Absolutely huge.
“The staff will be a mixture of the Covenant and the vampire faction.” Williams tapped his fingers against the table, seemingly lost in thought. He brought his eyes to mine, crooking a slight smile. “It would seem to be better overprotected than under.”
“And better to be trained than untrained.” Gillian stood, her hair and robe swirling around her for a moment before settling. “Bring your plate. You can eat while I demonstrate the object of your first lesson. Then you may attempt it.”
“Thanks so much,” I muttered, but since my mouth was full of food, Gillian didn’t hear me. Williams did, thanks to his extra human senses, and the guard to my right tried to hide his laugh in a cough.
“Laughing will only encourage her,” Williams remarked in a low voice. I was still chewing French toast as I stood, but I swallowed it before I followed Gillian through the door. I spun around, crossed my eyes, and stuck my tongue out at Williams. I smiled as I turned around and the room behind me erupted in laughter.
Gillian was tapping her foot impatiently where she stood waiting at the break in the hallway, waiting for me catch up before continuing further into the maze. I tried to remember where we turned, but after the second dogleg after the flight of stairs I gave up. I was going to have to see about those maps being placed through the whole of the building. To be honest, I’m sure we weren’t even in the main building anymore.
Finally after a ten minute hike during which I managed to finish clearing my plate, Gillian stopped in front of a big, wooden door. It looked older than the house, the city - hell, it looked older than God although that last was probably gross exaggeration.
“This room has been sealed since word of your mother’s death. Until the leader of the Covenant says it may be opened, it remains shut.”
“So why didn’t you open it, since you’ve been leading the Covenant?”
Gillian stared at me for a moment before closing her eyes and shaking her head. “Only the true leader, no one else, not even an acting leader, can open the door. It was charmed thusly to prevent any imposters or usurpers. If the door doesn’t open, the person is not the true leader.”
I looked at the door, tilting my head to the side to study it for a moment. This was a pretty important door. I reached out to touch it, get a feel for the spell. My fingers were a half-inch from its surface when the door swung gently inward. I glanced over my shoulder at Gillian, whose mouth was slightly open in shock.
“I’m going to guess that’s usually not how the door-opening thing works.”
Gillian swallowed, rubbing her throat with a shaky hand. “Traditionally a verse is spoken, a prayer offered, the spirits acknowledged.” She let out a weak laugh, her hand dropping away. “You seem to be the long awaited prodigal for more than just the people.”
Not sure what to say, I turned back toward the open door and stepped inside. I nearly dropped the plate in my hand in disbelief. This room put all the others I’d seen to absolute shame, at least size-wise. It was three individual areas melded together, almost like a studio. Half of the walls were lined with bookshelves up to the ceiling, at least fourteen feet high. There was a fully-equipped kitchen, minus a table, which made me think you probably weren’t cooking dinner here.
In the center, three circles were etched into the stone floor. The center was perhaps three feet in diameter, the next nine feet, and the last twelve. If the Covenant was even a tenth as large as Gillian hinted at, there was no way everyone could meet down here at one time. This was a big place, but it wasn’t that big.
“How the hell does this place not flood? I mean, we are underground, below sea level, right?”
“Magic.” Well, of course. Why didn’t I guess that?
“Rites are performed twice a month, for three days surrounding the time of the new moon, and three surrounding the time of the full moon.” Gillian moved from behind me to walk the path of the outer circle. “The Council meets here, for worship and for business. When the room is open, that is.”
“The Council? When were you planning on telling me about them?” It never failed, just about the time I’d get used to things, something else would get thrown in the mix. I was going to develop weak nerves in less than a year, I’d bet on it.
“In time.” Gillian strode to the center of the room, the center of the circles, her robe winging around her. “For now, we need to focus on harnessing your powers, so as to produce visible, purposeful results.” And with that, she threw her arms in the air - and the room was full of rushing air, rough and dry against my skin.
Luckily, I was wearing something more substantial than my usual tank top and jeans, a long-sleeved black shirt protected me from the worst of the windstorm. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I raised my voice to carry over the sound of the wind, my hair whipping around me. “Do you think you could tone down the sandpaper factor a little? I’ve got sensitive skin.”
Nailing me with a withering look, Gillian dropped her arms, the wind dying away. Pulling one hand out to brush the hair out of my face, I said, “Thanks, it’s a little easier to talk this way, too. So, is it just that simple, or is there more to it, like an incantation?”
“The arms are something my mentor got me into the habit of doing.” Gillian gestured me forward to join her in the circle, turning me so my back was to her as she stood slightly behind me and to my left. Taking my hands, she turned them palm up, careful to stay away from the fading burn mark on my left hand. “One summons air in the same way as the other elements, with a few brief words, imagery, and will.”
“Any words in particular or just throw them together?” I was payi
ng close attention, probably the closest since the bomb had been dropped about my parents. I’m not going to say I wanted to make Gillian, or even my long-dead parents, proud. I didn’t feel like getting the look from Gillian that usually meant utter disappointment. Those looks were really starting to wear on me.
She murmured the phrase into my ear and I repeated the words. Closing my eyes, I tried to see the wind moving around me like Gillian had done. No luck. Not even a single wisp. I tried again, and again.
Somewhere around hour three, sheer temper produced short bursts of windy fury. Gillian crossed her arms, unruffled in spirit or in person. “Again.”
Now, it was close to four in the morning, and I’d been trying to move air for five hours. As pissed off and disgruntled as I was, Gillian took it all in stride.
“Your mother wasn’t able to stir air of any sort for a good week after she was shown how. Members of the Covenant who can call air, even our more powerful ones, take two, three, sometimes four times as long.” She looked around the room, a single page floated to the floor. “You are actually doing remarkably well. If you could control your temper, you would progress even further.”
As much as I didn’t want to, hearing her say how good I was doing was enough to get me out of the chair. I still glared at her as I marched past, but went back to the center of the circle. I took a few deep breaths to center myself. I opened my mouth to whisper the words, then shut it again.
When I’d been on the streets for a while, I noticed there were various code-words. Not code, because none of us had the time to sit down and work on something quite that complex. Just an easier way to get word out when time was short. If the word cowboy started making its way up and down the street, the drug slingers would close up shop. The lead detective on the drug patrol had a habit of wearing cowboy boots, more often than not. And so it went, different words summed up a sentence or two in less than a second.
Why can’t the same thing work now? Ignoring Gillian, I closed my eyes, and took another deep breath. What word? The thought bounced around for a few seconds before coming back with hurricane. Swallowing hard, I thought of the outer edges of a storm, the word ringing in my ears.
For a moment I thought it wasn’t going to work, but then I felt it, light puffs of constant air, flowing around me. When it lasted longer than a minute, I heard Gillian clap her approval. I wanted to see how far I could push the hurricane thought and let the storm in my head move closer to land. To my surprise, and Gillian’s, the wind blew faster, the fallen papers caught up and spun around. After a moment, I pushed it a little more, thrilled when the wind took on a bite, buffeting me.
I couldn’t reasonably throw all my power, however much it was, into the air in such a confined space. I might be crazy sometimes, but never suicidal. Inhaling, I sent the storm back the direction it’d come from. Once I had the image of a massive storm in my head, it was much easier to control how hard and fast the wind blew.
When the air was still again and the last rustle of falling paper stilled I opened my eyes. Gillian stood with her hands clasped at her waist, a smile playing across her lips. I tried for the same serene look, but ruined it with a fit of laughter. When I regained control, Gillian crooked an eyebrow and said something that normally would have pissed me off but I let it go in the joy of the moment.
“I told you I could make you continue practicing.”
Chapter Nine
“Brick dust, brick dust, brick dust. If I were brick dust, where would I be?” Fisting my hands on my hips, I scanned the shelf where it should have been for the fifth time. Again, nothing. Unless I was blind, which was entirely possible given the lack of lighting in the storeroom. Rooms. Whatever.
They were a series of rooms, containing every possible ingredient for spells and a few random odds and ends. When I’d jokingly asked Gillian where the pickled bat’s wing was, she’d absently replied, “Second room, second row to the left, third section down, middle shelf.” I’d doubled checked to see if she was serious. I should have known better. Of course she was serious.
Again, I hoped for a map.
I didn’t get one, more like the Dewey decimal system for spell ingredients, which, I guess, was the next best thing. Thankfully, someone had been keeping the whole kit and caboodle in order, because the system had proven to be spot on. With the exception of the brick dust. I wanted to be absolutely sure it wasn’t there before I asked for help finding it. The less to look like an idiot when I called for assistance.
“You would appear to be out.”
My eeping was beginning to be a rather common sound around Williams. At least my hands were empty so there was nothing to drop. Turning to my left to face him, I asked, “Is it possible for you to make the slightest bit of noise when wandering around? Just so those of us who have a heartbeat aren’t given a heart attack?”
“I could endeavor to do so, although it would be an absolute trial.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, pretty sure there was sarcasm underneath his bored tone of voice. I guess when you’ve spent a couple hundred years dressed to kill, no pun intended, you assume people are too dazzled by how you look to pay attention to what you say and how you say it. Not that he looked any less fabulous than usual. He must own a hundred cream colored shirts and tailored dark chocolate slacks, because that’s all I ever saw him in.
I, on the other hand, was wearing my oldest and most wonderfully comfortable jeans; and for a change of pace, a red tank top instead of black. Yep, chock full of fashion sense. We looked like the Prince and the Fashion Disaster next to each other.
“Right. Shooting a crossbow barely makes you break a sweat, but making noise is just way out of your league.”
His casual step forward had me taking an equally casually one back. The last two times we’d been face to face things had heated up. Not that I’d be overly adverse to it, but Gillian had been in such a good mood, I’d hate for something to spoil it.
And I really, really wanted to find the brick dust.
“I was a hunter of humans for over a hundred years, Jude Magdalyn. What one couldn’t take by flattery was often taken by force.” There was a flash of grief in his eyes, gone almost as soon as it appeared. His left hand tremored for a moment, although I don’t think he realized it. “Stillness is much more of an asset than a detriment.”
“Still, it’s probably a lot easier for you to walk loudly than it is for me to not nearly jump out of my skin when you just pop up all of a sudden.” I was nearing the end of the aisle, maintaining a safe distance between the two of us despite his continued movement forward. I tucked my bangs behind my ear, my head canted to the right. “Unless, of course, you enjoy scaring the bejesus out of me.”
“What, exactly, is the bejesus? Some body part akin to the appendix, that a person doesn’t really need but if something adversely affects it the situation is bad?” My back hit the wall, and I had a split second to decide to slide left or right or stay put. Williams patiently waited for an answer to his question, and a clue as to which way I was going to go. When I didn’t move, he took another step forward. “Do you have an answer, Jude Magdalyn, because I confess it’s a question I’ve had for quite some time now.”
“At the moment, I seem to be out of answers for odd yet highly interesting questions.” I also seemed to be out of common sense. The idea of keeping Gillian happy for a little bit longer was rapidly inching toward the window of oblivion the closer Williams got. The man was like walking erotica - not too sleazy, just enough to push your buttons.
When he took the last step that brought him to me, fronts touching just enough to tease, I couldn’t help the shiver that ran through me. I was getting used to the shivers a lot faster than him showing up out of nowhere. His arms came up to brace against the wall, eyes boring into mine.
“You seem to be very up close and personal.”
“You draw me in like the light of salvation.”
I swallowed hard, the noise incredibly loud in the stilln
ess surrounding us. “I’m nobody’s salvation. I’m just as much a sinner as everyone else. Maybe more.”
“Are you? Have you taken a life, Jude Magdalyn, for no reason other than you were bored and it was good sport?” His hot breath in my ear, made me arch my neck. I had to wet my lips before answering.
“I’ve worked the streets, selling whatever was handy to get by.”
I bit my lip when his tongue traced the edges of my ear lobe, my nails dug into my palm, my eyelids fluttered closed. “That’s survival, Jude Magdalyn. The Church would forgive it if you asked.”
“I’ve stolen, lied, all with premeditation.”
“None of which are mortal sins, Jude.” I let out a groan when his teeth scraped over the space right below my ear. It was like he had detailed instructions on exactly where to touch me to make me weak and mindless. He was doing a good job of following them. “The Church wouldn’t take me back even if I begged. I think in the game of who’s the larger sinner, I win.”
It took me a moment, because it was difficult to breathe with him moving his teeth over the one spot, and one hand trailing back and forth over my stomach. I managed to get enough breath to rasp out, “The Church may excommunicate. God doesn’t.”
He froze, suddenly so still I almost thought he’d be gone when I opened my eyes, and I’d realize the last fifteen minutes were a figment of my imagination. He wasn’t, but the look in his eyes when he drew back made me wish he was. Rage, regret, pain. If what was there could have manifested, it would have drowned New Orleans in a deluge to make Katrina look like a light summer rain. I shivered again, but not from want this time.
I was scared.
Williams realized it, and before I could blink he was a foot away. Some small thing caught his eye, and his voice was a smooth brush of silk when he spoke again. “The last person to use your supply of brick dust seems to have replaced it improperly. Next to the bottle of dried chamomile.” He spun on his heels and the steady thump of his feet on the stone floors echoed for a minute before dying away completely.
