Wicked Magic (7 Wicked Tales Featuring Witches, Demons, Vampires, Fae, and More)

by Deanna Chase

  Montserrat doesn’t respond. I lapse into silence. Beth’s little white envelope is the best thing I have to prove my innocence right now. I’m going to have Lord bloody Montserrat begging at my feet for forgiveness in about two minutes’ time.

  It takes less than that for the telephone to ring. Montserrat answers it. ‘Yes.’ I watch him smugly. He is going to be so damn sorry. ‘I see. You’re sure?’ He listens for another moment then replaces the receiver. ‘There’s nothing there.’

  ‘What? They didn’t look hard enough then! It’s right underneath the jug. It was there less than an hour ago. Have them look again.’

  A muscle throbs in his cheek. ‘You can go now, Bo.’

  ‘I had nothing to do with this!’

  His gaze is implacable. I feel numb, as if I’ve wandered into some bizarre episode of The Twilight Zone. ‘If you’re so sure I’m involved in this, why are you waiting?’ I ask him quietly. ‘Why not execute me and be done with it?’

  ‘I owe it to Arzo to find the proof first. And losing another recruit at this stage without the evidence of your betrayal will merely unnerve the others.’

  ‘So what am I supposed to do?’

  His eyes are hard. ‘Pray.’

  Chapter Twenty: Vodka

  I feel empty inside and more alone than ever. I’ve given up everything and now I’m trapped in the Montserrat House with vampire blood running through my veins and not a single friend. Beth could be about to unleash hell upon every single Montserrat vampire any minute now and there’s nothing I can do about it.

  To add to my woes, I seem to be suffering from permanent nausea, although whether it’s from my growing bloodlust or despair at my situation, I have no idea. I’m incredulous that Michael Montserrat believes I’m involved. Time is ticking away on the real mastermind’s invisible deadline and he’s wasting his days thinking I’m one of the culprits. Jeez, maybe he even thinks I’m the one who started it all, who wants to create a new Family. Considering how little I want to be part of the bloodguzzler world, how could he entertain such a thought?

  The first opportunity I have, I sneak back into Beth’s room. There are no longer any traces of whatever it was she was hiding. My only hope is to find the real traitors but I’m getting no joy from the recruits and now I have nothing substantial on Beth, even though I try to keep her in my sights at all times. Besides, all the Families are involved in this, not just Montserrat, so I can hardly pin things on her and hope for the best. I have to find the root but I have no idea how. Tempting as it is to sneak up on Beth and force her to spill her guts, it doesn’t seem particularly realistic. Torture is hardly my thing. I got lucky before in that O’Shea genuinely wanted to share his problems with me and gave in when I pressed him; somehow I don’t get the same feeling about Beth. Besides, given my current situation, I’d probably have less than five minutes alone with her before Montserrat’s goons descended. I’m certain I’m being watched constantly although I never catch anyone following me.

  Ursus continues with his nightly themed PowerPoints. Fortunately, there are some breaks and we have the pleasure of other vampires as trainers. Alongside the best ways to drink blood directly from a human (which has the few of us who still haven’t partaken of O negative squirming in our seats), there’s some basic combat and fitness drilling. I imagine Lord Montserrat’s face on a punch bag. When that stops working, I switch to the blond vampire who so callously killed Charity Weathers, and the dark-haired beast responsible for slaughtering everyone at Dire Straits. Imagining whipping their arses is, however, no substitute for the real thing.

  My physical strength and vampiric abilities may be developing, but I’m feeling more and more strung out and less and less in control of my destiny. I don’t like it at all and, by the end of the seventh night, one full week after I officially turned, I’ve just about had enough.

  ‘Maybe you should drink,’ Nell says. ‘It’ll make you feel better and help you to sleep more.’

  ‘No.’ Beth’s answer is sharp.

  ‘It’s not as bad as you think,’ Nell informs us. She’d succumbed the previous evening, ravenously downing three glasses of thick gloopy blood in a row.

  ‘The longer you avoid drinking,’ Beth says with a nasty look at Nell, ‘the more powerful you’ll eventually become. It’s about time the Montserrat Family had some powerful women to deal with.’

  I perk up at her words. This is the kind of thing I’ve been waiting for. I’ll have witnesses this time too.

  ‘Yup,’ agrees Nicky, stretching out her legs. She’s still not used to being able to move her limbs. ‘They are a bit testosterone heavy.’

  ‘But some of that testosterone is so tasty,’ Nell interjects with a wink.

  I try to steer the conversation back to where I want it. ‘It’s a shame that only the Bancroft Family has a female Head.’

  ‘Yeah, apparently she’s a bitch, though.’

  I sigh inwardly at Nell’s words. You can’t beat women for cattiness against their own sex.

  ‘Imagine if it was the other way around,’ I say casually. ‘If it was four female Heads and only one man.’

  ‘There’d be a lot of wine and chocolate,’ grins Nicky.

  ‘And episodes of Sex and the City.’

  ‘It’s not fair though, is it?’ I push, looking at Beth as I speak. ‘Out there, the fact that women hold fewer top jobs than men is explained away by them spending nine months out of the workplace pregnant and then staying at home to look after their kids. That’s not the case here.’ We’d already made much of the fact that we no longer had to worry about our periods. I’d wondered, albeit to myself, whether that would be the same if I made it to Sanguine. I wasn’t sure whether it would upset me or please me.

  ‘Women are weaker than men,’ Nell asserts.

  ‘Bullshit! No man could walk in these all smegging day long.’ Beth points to the stilettos she continues to wear. I try to chuckle.

  ‘When my family was attacked,’ Nicky says softly, ‘my mother tried to protect me while my father tried to fight back.’ A dark shadow crosses her face. ‘They broke in at exactly two o’clock in the morning and were there until almost five. I remember because I had a huge red digital clock on my bedside table. They went into my parents’ room and I woke up and heard them so I followed them in. My father fought as hard as he could while my mother threw her body between them and me. That’s the difference between men and women.’

  I don’t agree with her but I’m not in a position to say so. The others obviously feel the same and we lapse into an uncomfortable silence while Ria walks in with today’s tray of blood offerings. Nell has been drinking all day and ignores her. Beth, Nicky and I look away.

  ‘You know what we should do?’ Nell says to no one in particular.

  ‘What?’

  Her eyes gleam with mischief. ‘We should sneak out. Hit the town. Have a little fun.’

  Nicky is shocked. ‘Leave the house?’

  Nell punches her arm. ‘Live a little! We’ve been toeing the line up till now. We deserve a break.’

  I try to assess whether she’s serious or not. I’m surprised by how much I want to agree. Getting out of the stifling atmosphere of the Montserrat house might just be the tonic I need. Besides, by staying here all I’m doing is delaying the inevitable. Whether I’m executed first, or the Families all fall, the results for me personally will probably end up the same. I need to clear my name on the outside as well as here. This might be my chance to do both.

  ‘We only have training until 2am,’ I point out. ‘Then we’re free.’

  ‘It’s breaking the rules.’

  ‘Not the real, serious, “we will execute you” rules.’

  Nicky gives Nell a suspicious look. ‘How do you know?’ She doesn’t make explicit reference to Nell’s pre-turning comment about stealing but it hangs unspoken in the background.

  ‘What were Ursus’s exact words? Do not go out in the sunshine. You must live in the Montserrat H
ouse. There’s nothing to say that you must stay here trapped like a prisoner.’

  ‘I like the idea,’ I say, decisively. It’s about time I took matters into my own hands again. And something to do will take my mind off the gnawing hunger leaching from my stomach into the marrow of my bones. I continue, ‘It’ll be pretty late by the time we can escape but I know just the place. The bouncers don’t ask questions and we’re unlikely to bump into any vampires.’ We may bump into a lawyer of dubious intentions, though.

  ‘No.’ Beth shakes her head firmly. ‘It’s too dangerous.’

  ‘How can a few dances and some tequila shots be dangerous? We’re vampires now. It’s not as if we need to be concerned with cirrhosis of the liver.’

  ‘It’s not drinking tequila that worries me,’ Beth mutters.

  She flicks me a worried glance, as if she thinks that I’ll pounce on the nearest human and sink my as-yet non-existent fangs into their carotid artery. Why she has decided to pick on me instead of the younger and frailer Nicky, I have no idea. She should be more worried about me finding the evidence I need to prove her guilt – and my innocence.

  ‘Don’t come if you don’t want to,’ I tell her airily. I’m fairly confident she’ll join in but for once I don’t care. My gaze falls upon Peter, sitting morosely in the corner. He’s the only other person apart from Nicky, Beth and me who’s not yet partaken of the salty red stuff. Somehow I don’t think it has anything to do with wanting to become a powerful vampire. ‘In fact, safety in numbers. Let’s ask Peter along.’

  Nicky’s face twists but Nell grins agreement. ‘Brilliant!’

  Less than two hours later, the five of us gather next to Montserrat’s portrait. His dark eyes make me feel guilty so I turn away. Everyone has decided to come – even Nicky; it’s just as well that she’s with us as she appears to be the only one who kept her credit card when the rest of her things were taken. I have no idea where she normally hides it – perhaps under her own water jug – but I’m glad we’ll have money to buy some drinks. There would be nothing more depressing than getting to the nightclub and realising we couldn’t pay our own way.

  ‘How exactly are we going to get out of here?’ she enquires.

  ‘Shhh,’ I whisper, tentatively stepping down the path towards the towering perimeter wall.

  The night is cloudy, although there’s enough of a wind to reveal the crescent moon from time to time. Its gleam is heartbreakingly tiny. I’m torn between needing more time to do some proper investigating and wishing it was already the full moon so I could make my escape.

  We skirt round the edge of some bushes and duck under the low hanging branches of an apple tree. There’s a muttered curse from behind and, when I twist round to see who it is, I spot the lapel of Peter’s jumpsuit caught in one of the twigs. His fingers scrabble at the offending branch but he only succeeds in getting more tangled. A scowling Beth traipses back to help with an exasperated sigh. She just succeeds in freeing him when a large shape flies overhead, cawing loudly and making us all leap in fright.

  ‘What in hell was that?’

  I scan the sky, squinting. ‘A crow, I think.’

  ‘There’s a sodding reason why it’s called a murder of crows,’ Beth grumbles.

  I watch her sullen expression, wondering what’s making her so pissed off. It’s possible she’s annoyed that we’re venturing into the outside world because it implies a lack of control over us on her part. Or is she worried that she’ll slip up and give the game away? I can only hope.

  We push forward, eventually reaching the wall. It’s high and made of sturdy red brick. Someone, probably the gardener, clearly pays it almost as much attention as the plants, as it’s moss free and well kept. This is unfortunate; a few crumbling spots would make it easier to find footholds. Beggars can’t be choosers, though.

  We edge along until we find a suitable tree to help us gain height. I reach up, pulling myself onto the nearest branch, then shimmy upwards, using the strongest part of the branches where they meet the trunk as safe places to hold my weight. Nell, irritatingly, just scampers up the wall in a flash and sits astride the top, grinning down at us all.

  ‘You see? You lot should quit with all your posturing and take some blood. You’re going to do it sooner or later. And once you do, climbing up something like this is a piece of cake.’ She flexes her muscles while I mutter under my breath and push myself higher up the tree.

  Once I’m as high as I can go, I look over at the wall. It’s still three feet away. I sidestep towards it while the branch creaks menacingly under my weight. I’m not convinced it’ll hold me. Nell casually extends an arm. ‘Just jump, Bo,’ she tells me. ‘I’ll catch you.’

  I’m doubtful about this. I know from our training sessions that she’s by far the strongest of us and I like to think that I keep myself in shape but still, it’s a long way down. The others are catching up on me, however, and if I show signs of nervousness then neither Nicky nor Peter will jump. I need to get out of here and it’ll look better for me if I’m not alone when I do it. I couldn’t give a shit about Beth. A tiny part of me hopes that she falls. That’s mean, but I can’t help it.

  I edge a little bit closer.

  ‘Do it,’ Nell urges.

  I draw a deep breath, holding the air in my lungs, and then I leap. Initially, everything seems fine and I’m gaining height. It’s barely a fraction of a second, however, before my body starts to fall. Nell’s hand seems too far away and I‘m certain I’m not going to make it. Panic sets in and I shut my eyes tightly, waiting for the inevitable pain. I misjudged Nell’s reach though and, before it’s too late, her cool hand grips my sweaty one and pulls me upwards.

  She heaves me up until I’m lying on my stomach, my legs dangling down one side and my arms down the other. I force myself up, twist round to a sitting position and try not to gasp too obviously for air.

  Nicky is now in position on the tree’s branch. She looks pale. I bet when she first entered the Montserrat house, she never thought she’d soon be climbing trees. How strange it must be for her to have control over her legs after being in a wheelchair for so long. I shuffle along so that she has enough room and give her an encouraging smile.

  ‘It’s okay,’ I whisper. ‘Nell’s got vampire strength.’

  She shakes her head. ‘I can’t do this.’

  ‘Of course you can. You’re taller than I am and I did it,’ I urge.

  She bites her lip and pushes her hair away from her face. Then she jumps. This time, I watch Nell. She stretches herself out a few inches and grabs hold of Nicky, as if she were merely catching a frisbee. Even the muscles of her forearms don’t appear tense as she yanks up Nicky’s slight frame. Considering Nell has been fully vampired for less than five days, I’m terrified. How much stronger will the other vampires be that I’m up against? If I get caught in a fight with them, I’ve got no chance. Maybe I should just go ahead and drink some damned blood.

  I scoot further along the wall with Nicky alongside me. Beth makes the jump irritatingly quickly. She has a lithe athleticism that’s hidden by her façade of bottle-blonde hair and sharp red fingernails. I try not to scowl. Peter also leaps without seeming to worry about it. He seems almost disappointed when he makes it, as if he’d hoped to fall and break his neck.

  ‘So, clever clogs,’ Beth says, once we’re all safely perched on the wall, ‘how in smeg do we get down?’

  She has a point. The Montserrat garden may be full of trees to aid the climbing process but the other side is a gaping chasm leading down to the grey cement of pavement.

  Nell pushes herself off, landing squarely on her feet. ‘I’ll catch you.’

  I look nervously at Nicky. This time our order is reversed, with Peter going first. He’s the heaviest of all of us, and Nell staggers slightly. There’s no problem though and, one by one, we make the jump down. When my feet are on solid ground, I take a deep breath. I’m strongly tempted to bend down and kiss the pavement in gratitude. I look
back at the wall.

  ‘It’s going to be a lot harder to get back inside than it was to escape,’ Beth says, echoing my thoughts.

  ‘Let’s worry about that when the time comes,’ I say. I’m not sure I’m coming back. I don’t have any doubts that Montserrat will find me in a heartbeat but hanging around until he decides to execute me isn’t really much of an option.

  ‘There’s a cab!’ Nicky calls suddenly. She leaps into the road and hails it.

  The driver is unenthusiastic about having five passengers but Nell grins at him, displaying her growing fangs, and he hastily changes his mind. It’s so late that the streets are quiet and we make it to the club quickly. Perhaps I can get used to this night-time living after all.

  The bouncer at the door is the same one as last time. I have no idea whether he remembers me or not but fortunately he seems more taken by our matching midnight blue jumpsuits and Beth’s killer heels than our faces. We trip inside and, while Peter and I wince automatically at the loud music, the others perk up.

  I scan around, hoping that D’Argneau is here. Unfortunately the stools by the bar are empty and he doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who’s down for a boogie on the spangled dance floor. I’m disappointed My main purpose in coming here is to quiz him again; without his presence this is a wasted trip.

  Nell, it seems, has an entirely different idea of wasted on her mind. She beckons the bartender, ordering a bottle of vodka and a range of mixers. Ever the one for detail, she even makes sure there’s a bucket of ice. Nicky appears blasé about handing over her credit card to pay for our drinks. I’m not sure I’d allow Nell free reign – not at London prices – but once we’re settled at a table and sipping at our glasses, I start to chill out. No, I shouldn’t rely on alcohol to settle my nerves but damn, this is a drink I’ve been waiting for.

  Unsurprisingly, Beth’s lip curls. ‘It’s not the kind of establishment I normally frequent.’

  The buzz of alcohol almost makes me throw caution to the wind and tell her exactly what I think, but Nicky interrupts before I do.