Call of Blood: A Novel of The Unnatural Brethren

by Silvana G Sánchez

  “Not one of us.” The voice resonated in her mind. She caught it without even trying.

  Elizabeth crept into a corner, and sat where she could observe the blood drinkers without calling too much attention. A few of them noticed her marauding about their lair, but they kept their distance. Strange.

  Dressed in dark shades of the finest couture, they lingered in the room, engaged in intimate conversations. Beautiful beings, they tended to the slightest detail of their appearance. Hairstyles and flawless makeup for the women, alluring cologne and impeccable outfits for the men... It was high school all over again. Vampires were the cool kids and Elizabeth was the outsider. She was the girl who didn’t fit in but filled her hungry eyes with their glamour, regardless.

  Who was she kidding? She didn’t belong here.

  “Keep your fangs off her, she’s taken.” The voice came as clear to her as if spoken in her ear, but she sat alone.

  “Don’t even think about it… Lockhart’s girl.” Another thought swung by.

  “Hey, there…” a woman said. She was a young brunette in her mid-twenties with the face of an angel—a dark angel with a diamond nose ring and no makeup. She flicked back her long black hair, turquoise strands shone as she slipped into the chair next to hers.

  Say something, Elizabeth. “Hey…” Well, it was better than nothing.

  The woman examined her with narrowing eyes and tilting her head. “Hmmm… You’re not one of them, but you’re not human either.” Her full pink lips hinted a smile, and her blue eyes gleamed for a second.

  “Oh?” Elizabeth raised her brow. “What am I then?”

  “You’re a midblood,” she said with her honeyed voice, “like me.”

  “A midblood?” Elizabeth repeated. Never heard of that.

  “That’s all right… You’re new at this.” She smirked. “A midblood is one who has fed off an immortal’s blood more than once. She develops certain gifts over time, like hearing the thoughts of others… as you’ve been doing all night.”

  Elizabeth’s cheeks burned. “More than once, you say?”

  “Generally,” she replied, relaxing in the chair. “Unless one comes across a millenary—their blood is powerful enough to work its trick with a single taste. But they rarely offer their blood to mortals.”

  Elizabeth turned to a pair of vampires standing by the doorway. They had kept eyes on her from the minute she’d walked in. “What’s their problem?” she mused.

  “They’re curious… as was I.” The woman shrugged with a smile. “No one will harm you—at least not here.” She rose from the chair. “I can see why he chose you. You’re lovely and smart.”

  Chose me? What the hell?

  The woman dipped into the dancing crowd and soon disappeared from her sight.

  Midbloods… Was she a midblood?

  Cassandra

  She had stayed up all night reading from the grimoire, practicing a few charms and incantations with barely any success.

  Cassandra got out of bed, still dressed in yesterday’s pink pants and white t-shirt. She reached for the book over the night table, revealing the clock as she picked it up.

  8:30 PM. Great. She had slept through the entire day. “Ugh… At least I’m on the same time zone as Lockhart,” she said with a mirthless laugh.

  A week had passed since she’d last seen Antoine—but never mind that. “Focus, Cassandra.” She shook her head and sat by the kitchen table, coffee in hand.

  “Where was I?” She went through a couple of pages before finding the one where she had stopped reading.

  The first chapters had been written in the 1600s by the Grand Witch Juliette. She had read those passages for hours, enchanted by her mystic appreciation for the Craft. According to the grimoire, her powers would reach their greatest potential at her twenty-first birthday... That was in two weeks. Sending Mona flying across the garden had been a glimpse of her dormant abilities.

  Was there a more adequate room in Deveraux Hall to pursue her magic studies other than the kitchen? Maybe, but there was something about this room that was lacking in all others: Coffee and cookies. She pulled the cookie jar closer and grabbed one as she read.

  “Mmmm… Absolument délicieux.” Delicious, she mumbled with her mouth full. “Here’s something.” A passage written by Katherine herself.

  Black tourmaline grants protection from evil spirits and witches. Holding black tourmaline and three acacia’s leaves in the left hand in a room where sage incense has been lit will prevent any attack.

  Written as a side note—quite in the habit of Katherine Deveraux—it read:

  The spell to lure a vampire into a witch’s domain seems worth mentioning, dearest reader. Should you ever need it. I call it my Siren Song:

  Three drops of one’s blood and a dash of laudanum, mixed with essential oil and a drop of vanilla will do the trick when used as a personal perfume.

  Cassie smiled. “You little troublemaker…” Wait. She heard something, upstairs. “Stop being paranoid…” There it was again. Footsteps, coming from the bedroom.

  She got on her feet. The sound grew louder, someone was running upstairs. The steps rushed out of the bedroom and echoed in the hallway. Whomever this was, he or she headed downstairs.

  Standing in the kitchen’s doorway, Cassandra’s heart raced. She tried not to breathe for fear of making the slightest noise. The footsteps skipped a few steps on the stairway. A loud stomp echoed in the hall. And then, silence.

  Cassie took a deep breath, and summoning every ounce of courage she could muster, she stepped into the hall.

  “What in the—?”

  Two, maybe three years old, a girl stood on the stair’s upper landing. She wore an old-fashioned white laced gown. Her strawberry red curls bounced as she jumped, excited to see Cassandra. Fiddling her fingers, she tilted her head and smiled.

  “Do I… know you?” Cassie asked.

  The girl giggled. Gleeful, she skipped the remaining steps. She then ran through the hall, straight into Cassandra’s arms.

  As the girl warmly embraced her, Cassie did the same.

  Why are we hugging? How did this kid get in my house?

  Another giggle. The girl’s green eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief—then she knew.

  “Oh, mon Dieu…” Cassie mused, her eyes wide open. “Annette?”

  Of course it was her! The wavy hair, the laced gown… just as she appeared in the photograph hanging in her old bedroom. She was missing Katherine’s string of pearls but other than that—it was her.

  “Granny!” Cassandra held her tightly. “C’est toi, ma cher!” It’s you, my dear! She kissed her forehead. The invocation had worked!

  Wriggling her hands, Annette gave her a candid smile and then stepped away.

  “Granny! Wait!” She reached for her hand, but the child ran off to the living room. Cassandra followed her.

  She found her frozen still before Katherine’s Mora clock, staring at its ticking dial.

  “Granny? What’s wrong?” Cassie stopped a few feet away from her.

  Annette turned. She stared into Cassandra’s eyes and then walked through the clock, disappearing within seconds.

  “No! Granny, come back!” she said in French, hoping her mother tongue would do the trick. But nothing happened.

  Annette was gone.

  “I must have done the wrong spell!” Cassie growled. “I’m hopeless. I’ll never get any spell right without guidance… Oh, dear Granny! Why wouldn’t you help me?”

  Defeated, Cassandra pressed her forehead against the Mora clock and sighed heavily.

  Something clicked inside the clock. A wooden panel on the side flipped open. “And now I’ve broken the family’s clock… Oh, that’s just perfect!”

  Could she fix it? Cassie held the piece of wood and peered through the gap. “What is this?” She slipped her hand inside. From the clock’s entrails out came a heavy wooden box.

  She placed the box over the coffee table and sat on the
carpeted floor, studying it with the highest curiosity.

  The box was carved in exquisite redwood. On its lid were two miniature portraits—a man and a woman. The woman wore a blue taffeta gown. Her long black hair was arranged in soft curls. She had striking blue eyes, and looking closely, she noticed a hint of a devilish smile. By the corner of her eye, the woman gazed at the man on the other side of the lid.

  The man wore a black suit and white laced cravat. The twinkle of mischief in his green eyes was one she knew by heart—Lockhart’s.

  “If he’s Lockhart…” Cassie looked at the woman again. Around her neck was a pearl chocker with a sapphire brooch. “The necklace!”

  Her trembling hands raised the lid. A black velvet reticule lay inside. Cassandra drew the bag’s strings and poured the content’s in her hand. The most precious pearl necklace and sapphire brooch appeared... embedded in shimmering diamonds, just as Lockhart had said.

  “We’ve had this for generations,” she whispered. “It’s time to give it back.” She was about to place the necklace into the reticule, but the gleam of the back of the brooch caught her eye. Cassie turned it over. It was a metallic plate with an inscription:

  Love is too young to know what conscience is.

  A Lockhart, 1671.

  Strange words. A Lockhart… The only Lockhart she knew was Ivan.

  Cassandra rose from the floor, her heart pounding hard now that the magnitude of her discovery sunk in.

  “I found it,” she whispered. Her eyes went to the Mora clock. “Thank you, Granny.”

  Now to see Lockhart and tell him the good news. But how could she find him? Never once had it occurred to her to ask where he lived. Maybe if she—the doorbell rang.

  “Wow. Talk about great timing!” Cassie took a quick sip of coffee before rising from the chair. Was Lockhart in the habit of permanently going through her thoughts? She laughed. She couldn’t wait to see the look in his face. “You’re not going to believe what happened!” she said, opening the door.

  “I bet I will.”

  Cassandra’s smile slowly disappeared. Not Ivan.

  “I’ve seen you before… Who are you?” taking a step back. This guy had a hideous aura… Cassie took her hand to her neck. Where’s my black tourmaline?

  The guy tilted his head, scanning her with piercing hazel eyes. Black shirt and dark denim, he wore a biker’s leather jacket.

  “Have you? My name is Jiao Long,” he said. “Well, I know you very well, Cassandra Deveraux. I’ve kept a close eye on you for a very long time.”

  His voice was soft and hissing, like a snake.

  “What do you want?” she asked, her hand firmly gripping the door handle.

  He smirked. “I think you know what I want.” An unnatural gleam shone in his eyes so fast it would have gone unnoticed to anyone but her. This guy standing on her doorstep was not human.

  Blood drinker.

  “Where’s the necklace?” the vampire said without moving an inch away from the doorway.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, ready to slam the door when a familiar face appeared behind him. “Mona?” That treacherous witch! “You’re with him…”

  With a smug attitude, she stepped in front of the vampire Jiao Long.

  “You can’t come in,” Cassandra said. “No evil can walk through this doorstep.” Good thing she’d cast a protection spell on this house the day she moved in.

  “Is that so?” Mona said with a defiant stare. She reached for the stone pending from her necklace, a red jade talisman shaped like a dragon. Closing her eyes, she whispered an incantation. Cassie couldn’t understand the words, but she knew magic when she saw it.

  Mona raised her hands in the air. The air shifted amidst them. A sudden whirlwind built up and twirled around her, carrying the dry leaves on the porch.

  Cassandra stepped back—closing the door would do nothing to stop her. She panicked.

  “Your tricks don’t scare me!” Cassie said.

  Mona smirked and gave her a knowing look. “They should… We can cross now.”

  Merde! Black tourmaline would have protected her against the pair of fiends, but it was too late for that. The pendant was in her bedroom, and she’d forgotten to wear it today of all days.

  Mona and Jiao Long walked into Deveraux Hall and now stood at the foyer.

  “I don’t know what you want,” Cassie said, stepping back, “but you’re not getting anything from me!” She ran to the stairs, hoping to reach her room in time.

  Mona snatched her by the wrist, and pulling her closer, she smiled. “She found it,” she said, turning towards the vampire. “Give us the necklace, dear, and no harm will come to you.”

  “You’re a seer!” That malevolent vixen—Mona needed only to touch her skin to tap into her mind.

  Cassandra pulled her hand away, freeing herself from Mona’s grip. “It’s not yours to claim! Why do you want Lockhart’s necklace?”

  Roaming in the living room, the vampire laughed, his eyes searching every wall and surface. “Why do I want it?” he mocked. “Do you even know what you’re protecting?”

  A wicked laugh escaped from Mona’s mouth.

  “The necklace belongs to Lockhart,” Cassie said, bumping against the stair’s handrail, “and so does the Source!”

  Jiao’s smirk disappeared. “So you know of the Source... Then you must know that any vampire who drinks it will gain ultimate power. And as it happens, I want that power.”

  His icy fingers slithered on her neck, his pupils widened. “You will give me the Source, Cassandra,” he whispered in her ear.

  “You should know better, Jiao Long,” Cassie said, grabbing the handrail behind her. “Mind tricks don’t work on witches!” She turned and ran upstairs without looking back.

  Jiao Long’s malicious laughter echoed in the hall.

  “You cannot run away from me!” he said. And out of nowhere, he materialized right in front of her. Grabbing her shoulders, he drew closer, revealing his deadly fangs in one ominous grin. “This is your last chance. Tell me where the Source is... or else.”

  Cassandra avoided the vampire’s menacing stare. Her eyes went to the chimney… This demon meant every word he said. She would do anything to keep his lethal bite off her neck!

  I might regret this later on, but there’s nothing I can do.

  “All right!” she said. “I’ll tell you where it is, just please—don’t bite me!”

  The corner of his lips curled in the hint of a smile. “Good choice, Cassandra.”

  “It’s right there,” pointing downstairs, “on the chimney’s mantel.”

  “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Mona said. “Now, don’t move…”

  “Wha—?” Mona’s lined cat eyes were the first thing Cassie saw when she turned. The witch raised her fist to eye level, opened it, and blew. Bright blue dust flew in the air and landed on Cassandra’s face.

  Cassie’s vision blurred. “What was that blue—?” A sudden tingling on her fingertips spread to her arms and quickly moved to her legs. Cassandra’s knees buckled, she couldn’t hold her own weight… The room spun around her.

  “I can’t feel…” she mumbled.

  Everything went black.

  Antoine

  Last night had been insane. Antoine was lightheaded, sleepy, his mouth was dry… Waking up after a late hunt was like having the worst hangover. A quick splash of water on his face and he felt a bit better, more alert at least.

  He slipped into a pair of jeans, ragged and worn out. Antoine ran his fingers through his hair, hoping that would be enough to tame it. He smoothed his hand over his jawline and sensed the stubble of his beard—vampires shaved? Who knew?

  “Where the hell are my shoes?” He went into the bedroom. Antoine’s narrowing eyes focused on the carpeted floor, searching under the night tables, under the bed...

  “This used to be my bedroom.” Blue eyes gleamed before him.

  “Gah!” Antoine�
�s shoulders jumped as he recoiled from… “Phillip?” He frowned. “I didn't expect to see you here.”

  “Oh?” Phillip raised his brow. “And where should I be?”

  This conversation had started on the wrong foot. “Ivan told me about the car,” he said. “A total loss, huh?”

  Phillip made no answer.

  It was a little intimidating being in the presence of Phillip Blackwell. The lack of expression on his face gave him goosebumps—or maybe he just needed to put on a shirt.

  Phillip moved towards the window. His hand landed on the windowsill as he stared at the Golden Gate Bridge beyond the garden. Gleaming amber lights shone in the horizon.

  “It’s a fantastic view…” Phillip said.

  “This entire place is amazing.” Antoine moved closer.

  Furrowing his brow, Phillip turned. “And is that your reason for staying here?”

  Antoine, you fool! He fell straight into the trap.

  “It’s an honest question,” Phillip added, aware of Antoine’s thoughts.

  Speechless, Antoine pursed his lips and looked down.

  “You see, I’ve been sitting here for the past few hours, thinking why you would choose to live with us… But frankly, I couldn’t come up with a reason. So, you’ll have to enlighten me.”

  Phillip’s bold and charming demeanor stunned him. He wanted to say that though Villa Belle Vedere was a breathtaking estate, what appealed to him more about staying here was the company. Above everything else, Antoine liked Ivan's tightly knit circle. It was a dark family—and he hadn’t had one in a long time.

  The words got caught up in his throat, and Antoine remained silent.

  Phillip smiled, bowing his head. “The villa truly is breathtaking…” he mused.

  Blood rushed to Antoine’s face. Had Phillip picked up every single thought from his mind? He hadn’t planned revealing that much of himself, but perhaps it was better this way.