Tainted Blood

by Sara Hubbard

  “We’ve all been there,” the woman says, almost sadly. “But he grows on you.” She narrows her eyes. “Eventually.”

  “I doubt that.”

  To my surprise, she lets out a quiet chuckle, although Sebastian couldn’t look any less amused.

  “Well, if you’re not here to make me jealous, then why are you here?” she asks him.

  “Can we come in?” He glances at the old ladies still rocking hard in their chairs to a beat faster than “Staying Alive.”

  She drops her hands and releases a resigned sigh. “Five minutes. That’s it. Don’t make me kick you out.”

  He holds up his hands again. “Wouldn’t want that, sweetheart.”

  “And don’t call me sweetheart,” she says gruffly. She waves us in. I attempt to take off my boots, but she tells me the floors are dirty anyhow. She leads us to her kitchen, off the front entryway. In the center of a floral-wallpapered space straight out of the sixties, there’s a small table with mismatched chairs. She takes a seat in one and reaches for the cigarettes sitting in the center of the table. After lighting one up, she lets go a ring of smoke and moans with pleasure.

  Sebastian sits to her right, and I sit at her left. Sebastian reaches for one of her cigarettes, and she snatches them away and shoves the package down the neck of her black V-neck T-shirt. Her breasts are impressive. They sit high and bloom around the neckline of her shirt as her sweater puckers and falls open. I glance down at mine, wondering when I missed puberty.

  “Five minutes,” she reminds him.

  “And I thought we were friends,” Sebastian says dryly.

  She clucks her tongue as she rolls her eyes. “Not by a long shot.”

  I want to ask if they’ll put their foolish relationship aside a moment, but that wouldn’t be smart. I play the nice card instead. She seems like she’s still in love with him, whereas he clearly feels little, if nothing, for her. She needs to let it go. Her bitterness only makes her look ugly, though I’m sure Sebastian deserves every stab of her sharp, pointed hate.

  “All right, I’ll get to it then, shall I?” Sebastian says.

  “Oh, please do,” she says.

  “This woman is a witch, and yet she doesn’t have any magic. I need you to fix her.”

  She stares at him for a true moment before she breaks out in laughter so fully I swear she might bust her gut. And in case we didn’t notice how funny she finds this, she slaps the table for effect. I don’t see what’s so funny, and apparently, neither does Sebastian. I watch the corners of his eyes as they twitch, and I grip the edge of my seat, expecting him to start swinging. He’s a vampire, after all. And he can be cranky.

  “If she has no magic, she’s no witch.”

  “Her tellurium level is forty-two.”

  At this, she freezes. The deep smile on her face fades to a thin, perfect line. “Forty-two?” she chokes out.

  He nods. Once.

  “And she can’t do magic?”

  “Not even a little,” I say. “I didn’t even know I was a witch until he kidnapped me.”

  Sebastian narrows his eyes at me, but I shrug him off.

  She lowers her hands on the table then splays them as she takes a moment to process. “Why would he kidnap you?”

  “That’s hardly important. What is important is that we fix her,” he says quickly.

  Justine takes a long drag of her cigarette before butting it out in a glass ashtray on the table. She chews on her bottom lip and leans back in her seat. “A witch can’t lose her magic. It’s always there. And I can’t think of a good reason why someone would want to hide it, unless…”

  “Unless…” I say eagerly.

  “Unless someone meant to protect you from someone or something.” Her gaze intensifies. “What did you say your name was?”

  I open my mouth to answer, but Sebastian interrupts me. “We didn’t.”

  “No,” she says quietly. “You didn’t.”

  She stands and goes to her dark-stained kitchen cupboards. She rifles through some jars that are perfectly lined up on a shelf. One by one, she slides her fingers across the labels until she stops on one with brown liquid inside.

  “She’s not taking anything,” he says.

  “If I fix your witch, I need something in return.”

  He lets out a low chuckle. “Everybody always wants something, don’t they? Yet I’ve left you alone for fifteen years. I would have left your debt to me unclaimed if I wasn’t desperate for your help, and now you try to use my need to your advantage.”

  She holds up a hand and mimes talking with it. “Spare me the lecture. You want me to help or not?”

  “Name your price.”

  “We’re square, for one.”

  He nods. “Done.”

  “And I want a drop of her blood.”

  “No.”

  She smiles wide, her pearly whites shining brightly.

  “Shouldn’t I have a say in this?” I ask.

  Sebastian silences me with a single look.

  “Next.” Sebastian’s chair squeaks in protest as he shifts his weight and leans back. He stretches out his arm along the back of my own chair. Even though he likely means nothing by it, it causes Justine’s nostrils to flare.

  “Turn me. Like you promised.”

  With his free hand, he scratches the scuff on his chin. “Done.”

  “The next full moon.”

  He groans in frustration. “Whenever you wish.”

  Her smile builds until it’s ear to ear. All these people eager to be vampires—I just don’t get it. “Why the full moon?” I ask her.

  Sebastian speaks for her. “A witch can only keep her magic if she turns on a full moon.”

  “You can be both?”

  She nods and then hurries forward, unstopping the glass container with the fancy teardrop-shaped cap. “If you want to know what’s wrong with her, she has to drink this. We both do.”

  “I said no,” Sebastian says.

  “Listen, I’m going to get what I want if I help you. If I betray you, you won’t turn me. Have a little faith. We used to be friends.”

  Friends? I cluck my tongue in disbelief, and their eyes train on me. I shift nervously and clear my throat. They can stare at me all they want. There’s no way they weren’t sleeping together.

  He nudges me with his elbow. “Drink it.”

  “Only half,” she says. “I’ll need the rest to read you.”

  Sebastian straightens in his chair. But before he can tell me to stop, I snatch the bottle and chug it, handing it to Justine after I’ve finished my half. Nothing will stop me from learning the truth, especially not Sebastian. The liquid goes down with a burn, but there is no taste or smell. I might as well be drinking hot water.

  Justine raises the bottle to her pink lips and drains it. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Now, give me your hands.” She rests her hands in the center of the table with her palms facing the ceiling. My stomach rolls, and my hands shake as I reach out to lay my hands over hers. With her eyes boring into mine, she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes before telling me to do the same. Then I wait.

  10

  Justine grips my hands so firmly that I can’t easily pull them away. With her eyes closed, she lets out a long sigh. Her face twitches, as if she’s processing information. Her expressions aren’t dissimilar from my sister’s when she sleeps. I don’t want to think of Kara now. Is she home now? In her bed? At the bookstore? The witch’s lips part, and she takes a quick breath. Her eyes flash open.

  “You’re blocked,” she says simply.

  Blocked? “What does that mean?”

  Sebastian moves from behind me to stand at my side. He grips a chair and pulls it back to give him enough space to drop onto it. As his gaze moves back and forth between Justine and me, I wonder what’s he’s thinking.

  “It means someone bound your magic. And…” She shakes her head slowly, “It’s old and powerful. I can’t feel your magic, only
the magic of another witch around you. It’s almost smothering your own, hiding it from the world, including me.”

  “How can you tell the difference between her magic and this other witch’s?” Sebastian asks.

  She holds my hands tighter. “It feels foreign, almost unnatural. I’m not sure how else to describe it. At first glance, I assumed she was human, but now that I look closer, I see the faintest hint of her aura—a few shades of gold along her skin and then a deep shade of burgundy on top.”

  “An aura? I have an aura?”

  She smiles softly. “Yes. All witches have them—supernaturals, too—though only a few can see it. Only seers like me. I can tell a lot about a person from their aura. For instance, the brightness indicates how strong a witch is, but your burgundy border is solid and complete, and it constrains you. The dark border indicates the witch who bound you tended to use dark magic. It sours their light.”

  “Dark witches must hate you.”

  She raises an eyebrow.

  “Because you can see them for who they are.”

  “Yes. That is why I don’t broadcast my gifts. Sebastian only knows because I trust him.” She sighs. “Or used to trust him.”

  “How many times can a guy apologize? Honestly, I did you a favor.”

  Her gaze drifts to his face. She clears her throat and glances back at me. “A dark witch did this to you.”

  “Can we break it?” Sebastian asks.

  “I can try. But are you sure you want that? You have no idea why it was done. It’s a can of worms you might not want to open.”

  “Do it,” Sebastian demands.

  Justine grimaces at him. “I was talking to her.”

  “Then she also says yes.”

  I glare at him. Yes, I want it, but I don’t like him speaking for me as if I don’t get a vote.

  Justine sighs and pushes off the table to stand. She walks to the front door, and I assume she’s going to walk through it after she opens it wide. But she stands to the left of it and sighs instead. With a pained expression, she quickly says, “Sorry about this, Sebastian.” She folds her hands over her chest. “Exitus.”

  Sebastian’s eyes go wide as his body jerks. His fingernails grow into claws with a quick click, and he digs them into the table as the lower half of his body moves out from under him to the direction of the door like he’s caught in a wind tunnel. His skin stretches taut over the bones of his body. I shove back in my seat, stumble, and cling to the bookcase nearby to steady myself. “What’s happening?”

  “A spell banishing him from my home.”

  “Fuck!” he says with a groan as his fingernails lose their grip, and he blows out of the room. “Justine!”

  I never even feel the breeze.

  She slams the door and peeks through the window.

  Outside, Sebastian shouts profanities at her, but he doesn’t try to break the door down. I move to the window above the kitchen sink and peer through it to watch him watch the front door. He looks like he’s ready to eat someone. He might have cared for Justine once upon a time, but I’m not sure his past feelings will be strong enough for him to resist ripping her head off when she leaves this place. Hell, he might rip mine off too for staying inside, which I fully intend to do, even though I don’t trust her any more than I trust him. Not yet. I mean, she just betrayed a man I’m pretty sure she loved. You don’t hold that much of a grudge against a guy unless he cuts you pretty deep.

  Justine walks around the edges of the room, waving her hands and chanting words I don’t understand. When she finishes, she approaches me and places a hand on my shoulder. I eye her warily, my hands slowly curling into fists. She might be magical, but she’s human, and hitting her wouldn’t be like hitting a vampire. She’d feel it, and she might actually go down.

  “Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.”

  “I’ve heard that a lot the last few days. How do I know I can trust you?”

  “For the same reason you wonder if you can’t—because I kicked him out. I’ve cloaked the room. He can’t hear us in here. We can have a very candid conversation that he never needs to know about. The decision to unveil your magic is up to you, not him. I won’t have him making the decision for you. Kicking him out was for you, not for me.”

  What she says makes sense, so I’m inclined to let my guard down—if only a little—and take this meeting as it comes. “When you were doing…your…um, thing, was there something you saw you didn’t want to tell him?”

  “Come. Sit with me.” She guides me back to the table. We sit in the same chairs, and once again, she takes my hands. Outside, Sebastian yells, “All is forgiven if you invite me back in.” Quiet. “I’m not fucking around, Justine!”

  She rolls her eyes.

  “Aren’t you afraid of him?”

  She laughs. “I’ve seen him madder. He’ll get over it.”

  “Or he’ll kill you.”

  She tips her head to the side and gives me a sympathetic smile. “You can’t know him very well.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “If you knew him—really knew him—you wouldn’t say that. He’s not a bad man. He’s flawed, sure. And he makes bad choices—often. But he’s not the worst person to align yourself with. If he makes you a promise, I’m confident he’ll keep it. He’s very loyal to those he trusts. It’s unfortunate there are so few of us.”

  “But he didn’t keep a promise to you. He wouldn’t turn you.”

  “Because he’s an ass and he thinks he knows better. I might be pissed he didn’t keep his word, but I also know that he only refused because he cared.”

  The tender tone of her voice and the hint of sadness that surrounds it give her away. If I had doubts before, I don’t now. They were lovers. “Do you still love him?”

  She smooths back her salt-and-pepper hair and forces a smile. “It was a very long time ago.”

  All I hear is a very firm yes, and I feel sad for her. Whatever happened between them is their business, but I can’t help being curious about it. Unfortunately, now is not the time to hear her story or Sebastian’s. Who knows how long I have before Sebastian forces us out? One lit match and we’d have no choice but to leave the safety of these walls—if he’s cold enough to do that to a woman he once cared for.

  But I do have one question—one I know I could never expect Sebastian to answer completely. “What about his brother?”

  She purses her lips and inhales deeply, letting it out in an exaggerated sigh. I feel the same. “I think you already know that man is not to be trusted.”

  I nod in agreement.

  “But you didn’t come here to talk about him.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Whoever did this to you had their reasons. I wouldn’t recommend undoing it until you know why. Your tellurium is really high, but Sebastian couldn’t have known what you are, not with your magic bound. Tell me, what am I missing?”

  I hitch a shoulder. How much should I tell her? How much should I trust her? My gut tells me to keep much of it to myself, but then, I trust her more than Sebastian right now, and she’s able to give me answers he can’t. But I keep thinking back to what he said to me outside, that the witches here wouldn’t protect me because it would be too great a risk for them.

  I decide it doesn’t matter if that’s true. I’ll take my chances if I can get back a piece of my identity that was taken from me without my permission.

  “When a vampire tried to bite me, she got sick. Quickly. And then she died. Sebastian said they suspected I’m a blood hunter, but he said they believed we were all extinct. He also said he had a lock of hair from one, a woman called Penelope. He tested my blood against hers, and apparently we’re a one hundred percent match. I don’t know if I believe that because that would mean I’m her identical twin or a clone, which is impossible. I’m human, and I was born twenty-two years ago. The test had to be wrong.”

  She opens her mouth but snaps it shut. With her bottom lip between her
teeth, she regards me differently. Her expression is wary as she leans away. “It is impossible.”

  “I know.”

  “What exactly happened to the vampire when she bit you?”

  I recall the night perfectly so it’s not hard to repeat. “She bit me, and then after feeding some, she withdrew her fangs and flew back against a brick wall. She made choking noises and starting projectile vomiting. Then she stumbled and fell, and the other vampire snatched her, and they were gone. It all happened so quickly I almost thought it was a dream, but there was dried blood all over my neck, though the marks healed quickly.”

  She gets up and pulls down a book from a bookshelf in the living room. I lean back in my seat to watch her from around the partition wall. She brings it back and slowly flips through the pages. The book is old with pages so yellow they’re almost brown. The ink is black as coal. She stops on a page and slides the book around before pushing it in my direction. An image of a woman sits on the page, hand drawn with black ink. I gasp as I take in her likeness. We’re similar but not identical. And the difference isn’t her beautiful long hair that falls to her knees in intricate braids. Maybe it’s the hardened eyes of someone who’s seen too much or the strong lines of muscles in her neck and jaw that speak to her training and battles. Where I’m delicate, she’s firm.

  “I don’t understand.” I flip the page and start to read about this woman, but Justine breaks my concentration.

  “That’s Penelope Scott.” She points to the young woman. “This book describes all well-known witches since the fifteen hundreds. Penelope was known for stopping the hanging of more than a dozen accused witches in Salem in the late sixteen hundreds. Then the crowd turned on her and accused her of the same, and when they tossed rocks at her, they bounced off. The crowd was so afraid they ran away. She struck down the guards that tried to kill her as she cut down all of the women from their nooses. She was one of the most feared and wanted women in the colony for nearly fifty years. She is the stuff of legends, although witches will tell you a more detailed story. To us, she was known as a vampire hunter and a protector of good witches. In her lifetime, she was like the supernatural police.”