by Lily Luchesi
“Hello,” she said, walking up to reception. “I was told to ask for a Ms. Cross?”
The girl behind the counter was a fairy, petite and pink-tinged with a bright smile. Fiona had always liked fairies and was surprised to see one in the city. She had liked them because they stayed away from civilization and had no reason to interfere with Fiona’s life.
Why is one here?
“One moment. I think Ms. Cross is available now.”
The fairy returned and led Fiona to an office near the back of the room. The shades were drawn, and a beautiful young woman sat behind a desk, dressed in fashionable clothing and with the palest skin Fiona had ever seen. Her lips were cherry red and she was reading a novel.
“Ma’am, there’s a Fiona Guilfoyle here to see you.”
She looked up and gave a small nod of her head. “Yes, come in. Thank you, Rania, you may go home if you’d like. I will be fine here.” She gestured for Fiona to sit. “What can I do for you, Miss Guilfoyle?” Her accent was odd, as if she was trying to change it.
Fiona looked around the room, uncomfortable, as if she had entered the lion’s den. “I noticed a change in the city in the recent years. I was told that this place was the reason for it.”
Cross sat forward in her seat, smirking. “You mean you now see things that should be in hiding freely roaming here, correct?” Fiona nodded. “Until now, humans have persecuted things they deem as threats, and in a way, rightly so. Vampires, shifters and ghouls especially have never had a safe food source. Recently, I decided that it is unfair. I started this so-called charitable organization to aid us in receiving safe nutrition and thus make these streets safer for us and humans alike.”
“Us?” Fiona asked.
With a smirk and eye flash, Cross revealed her true nature to Fiona, who felt ill.
“Us. And I can sense something from you, too. Witch, right?”
Fiona nodded. “Yes, I am. One of the oldest of my line, and I have lived here for two hundred years. I rarely saw creatures like you acting so brave amongst mortals. What changed?”
“I arrived and wanted to make humans and the paranormal be able to cohabitate. Vamps can get blood, weres can get organs, and ghouls have access to the morgue. Plus, I am also helping humans by doing this. Everybody wins.” She opened a log and took out an ancient quill pen. “So, please spell your name for me, and I will put you in my log.”
Fiona was confused and a little angry. “Excuse me, Cross, but I am not a statistic for your little books! Who do you think you are, trying to control us all?”
“I am the only person who seems to care about this bloody city and the humans who live here,” she said. “I do not want to control anyone. I want to help. I plan to keep track of everyone I can and punish those who kill mortals wantonly.”
This vampire is stone mad, Fiona thought. She stood up swiftly. “I never really liked vampires, and I don’t like the way you’re waltzing in here like this.”
Angelica stood up as well, not as tall as Fiona, but much more imposing. “You’ve lived here for two centuries, so why didn’t you take the initiative to help humans stay safe and help people like you and I from being hunted by the Price family?”
“Because I would have preferred the Price family kill all of your kind. Witches are still essentially humans, you know. We’re not odd ducks like you.” Fiona went to stalk away, but Angelica’s vampire speed got her in Fiona’s way.
“You don’t want to be my enemy, witch,” she warned. “You don’t want me to start hunting you.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” Fiona said, casting a quick garlic spell she’d taught herself years before. It had proved effective before, but against Angelica, not so much. She waved it away as if it was bad perfume.
“Why don’t you try real garlic next time,” she said. “I can’t be killed using your silly little magic. I am much stronger than any witch could ever be. Now, you’re going to get the Hell out of my city, and if I ever see you again, I’ll tear you to shreds. Got it, love?”
Fiona was allowed to pass by, and she was able to hide the shaking in her knees. Never had she been so angry or afraid before. “This is war, Cross. One day, you’ll see, I will kill all your kind and humans will bow to me as they rightfully should.”
“Good luck with that,” Angelica replied. “You’re nothing compared to me, and you never will be. Get out, and never come back.”
Fiona got out, but she did come back. In fact, she never left the city at all. She hid away and honed her powers. She wanted to become stronger. Fiona had always toyed with the idea of being a ruler, of having mortals bow at her feet and revere her. Before meeting Cross, she had only thought of it as a fantasy. Now, she thought it could be reality.
Angelica had a log of every paranormal creature in Chicago, possibly further away. She could kill them all, one by one, slowly gaining control of the city. Once Chicago fell, it was easy to slowly gain control of other cities. Witches could be as powerful and as feared as they deserved to be.
She trailed Angelica, trying to find openings, but the halfling was vigilant. She was shaping and moulding the Paranormal Detectives force, before the FBI was even founded, combating against people like Fiona and Vincent, who had yet to come to Chicago. Fiona could not make any major kills, because the white witches had cast protective spells over the city.
Fiona followed Angelica over the years, always trying to engage in battles with her. Every time, however, she was thwarted. What was inside Cross that she could not be killed with magic? Fiona vowed to find out, and once she did, she would destroy the vamplet.
Following Angelica, Fiona saw and coveted Jonathan Price. Everything about the man drew her in: his looks, strength and social status. Plus, being with Angelica only made him more desirable to Fiona. She wanted everything Angelica had, including her man.
Jonathan married Angelica long before Fiona could attempt to take him as her own. That was when she decided that, if she couldn’t have him, neither could Angelica. She might not have been able to kill the vamp with magic, but Price was fair game, and his death would destroy Angelica from the inside out.
Despite Fiona’s efforts, and the death of one Jonathan Price, it did not stop the Paranormal Detectives program. Instead, they expanded. Angelica bought into the FBI and became the Paranormal Investigative Division, gathering members and becoming a census for paranormal creatures all over America.
What was worse, killing Price had nearly depleted her magic, and she needed a way to get it back if she ever hoped to destroy Angelica’s reign over the paranormal community.
She found herself envious of the power Angelica had. How could one half-vampire control the entire paranormal population of Chicago? She did not deserve it. For the love of all that was unholy, she was only half Fiona’s age.
Fiona wanted—no, she craved—power. Unfortunately, due to her immortality spell and the murder, she did not have the inner magic to combat someone as strong as Angelica. She had no idea how a vamplet had gotten such strength, and she did not care. She knew how she could gain power and not worry about dying, either.
There was an old practice to gain what one wanted, probably one of the oldest in the book, but she was all for revisiting the classics. Taking a vial of her blood, her portrait and a personal artifact, she went to East River Road and Lawrence, one of the few dirt crossroads in Chicago. The city was thriving then, and was paving their roads, making it difficult to find somewhere where you could dig easily.
Using only her fingers, she buried the small keepsake box with her things in it and waited. It did not take long.
From behind her, she heard, “You rang?”
Turning, she faced a man that could only be described as ethereal in his beauty. He was extremely tall with thick dark hair, eyes that seemed to change color as he moved into the light, a pretty pink pout of a mouth, an aquiline nose and cheekbones that could cut. He wore a simple black suit with a white shirt.
“Maybe,” Fion
a replied. “Who are you?”
The man blinked, and his eyes were pure, inky black. “I’m here to make your problems go away for a meager price…your soul. What do you say, Miss Guilfoyle? Tell me your troubles, and I shall remove them from the equation.”
“I want power,” she replied simply.
“What? The powers you were given at birth weren’t enough?” he asked mockingly. He observed her from a few feet away, his black eyes burning into her very soul. “You used half your innate magic making yourself immortal, didn’t you? Did you think you could fool me?”
“Fool you? What do you mean?” Fiona asked.
“We take souls after a grace period to enjoy whatever we give you. Usually ten years, but sometimes the timeframe changes on a case-by-case basis. You thought you could not die, and therefore your soul would be your own forever,” he said. “You can still be murdered, though.”
She was nervous. Was he saying he’d personally come to kill her in a decade? That was not nearly enough time. “I—I can sweeten the pot for you.”
He arched a sculpted brow. “Now I am intrigued. Tell me, what deal are you proposing to me, Hell’s salesman?” He smirked.
“Let me live until I am murdered. Even if it is a century or more. When I do finally die, I will work with you and…well, whoever your boss is. I will make good use of my magic for Hell once I’m dead and a demon myself,” she offered.
He circled her like a bird of prey. “Hmm. That is quite the deal, Fiona. Who are you, though, to make pitches to me, huh?” His fingers traced the nape of her neck, making her shiver. “Tell me what it is you want, and then we can talk terms.”
“Power. I want to be able to use my full magic as if I didn’t cast that immortality spell or murder Jonathan for as long as I live,” she said.
The demon rolled his eyes in a very humanlike manner. “Power. All you humans ever cared about is power. And just what is it you want this power for?”
“I want to take this city, and eventually more of this country, as my own. Eradicate vampires altogether and possibly weres as well,” she replied.
He nodded. “When I was a human, over a century ago, mind you, I also had an aversion to the Undead. Vile parasites, the whole lot. I can give you want you want, but under a few conditions. You cannot use a spell to murder anyone. That will break your magic in half again. You want someone dead, you kill them the old-fashioned way. If I could make it so you could kill with magic alone and not through another medium, I would, but I cannot. Also, you cannot kill any demons between now and your death. That will break the deal, and I’ll come and bring a reaper to you myself. Last, the magic will take time to repair. A few years, at least, and you should be careful of what you do before the power is built up. Are we clear?”
She nodded, palms sweating and r heart racing. The situation was exciting, but she couldn’t deny that the demon frightened her. Sounds as if Hell has a lot of rules. “How do we complete the deal?”
He crooked his finger to coax her closer and when she stood in front of him, he kissed her, his lips soft and his tongue probing. Was it wrong to find him attractive? Probably, but Fiona could not help it.
When he pulled back, he had an odd look on his face. “Angelica Cross? That’s who you are so damned determined to defeat?”
Fiona nodded. “She’s taken over this city, all to protect mortals.” She spat the word like venom.
He smirked. “Good luck. No wonder you needed my help. Angelica is the last in a very long and very ancient vampiric bloodline. It may take decades before your magic could kill her.”
“Then I will take decades,” she said, locking eyes with the demon.
“You’ve got guts, I will give you that. Even I would hesitate to cross her. Her mother was a vampiric dignitary in France. Her father…well, let’s just say he wasn’t all there, and his power ended up overwhelming him when he was finally turned. Good luck.”
He turned around, but she called him back.
“What’s your name? I’d like to know who owns my soul.”
He smirked. “Leander. Leander Price, great-great-great grandfather of your beloved and now deceased Jonathan Price. See you around.”
To Be Continued…
