Blood Ties

by Skyla Dawn Cameron

  “Want to head back and come up with a game plan?” she asked.

  “Sure. I’ll get the bill—”

  “I will, I dragged us out here,” she insisted as we went back to the table.

  I pulled out a few twenties and gave it to her. “See if you can give it to the waitress directly in the back. I have a feeling she doesn’t see a lot of tips.”

  She nodded—and had her own twenty to go with it.

  I left her to it, scooped up my hoodie, but headed for the bathroom to break the seal. Beyond the swinging door was a tiny square of a hallway and two more doors. One was marked as STORAGE, the other led to the bathroom, which was little more than a single unisex stall. More wood-panelled walls like the main bar, but this time with a great big crucifix.

  Because I’m sure a lot of praying to God went down in there.

  The bathroom was clean, at least, and smelled of lemon disinfectant. I happily emptied my bladder, scrubbed down my hands and zipped my hoodie up. The heat of the bar had sweat clinging to my skin and the temperature had likely taken a plunge outside—I was expecting to be icy cold on the walk back, but it might sober me up some.

  I opened the bathroom door as I hit the light, to find a figure looming in the doorjamb.

  I stumbled back with surprise, but managed to stifle my yelp, at least—it was Jim, having followed me, and I hated him even more for startling me. And maybe myself a little for apparently letting my guard down. But just as a faint smug grin tugged his lips, I stepped forward—I did not cower. Ever.

  When I got right into his face with a glare, he took a half step back—just a few inches, but so automatically that his face flushed as he realized he’d done it.

  I put my hand near his on the doorjamb. “Move.”

  He did not. “Why should I, you little cunt?”

  My fingers shifted to brush his and I sent an electrical charge through the contact.

  He yelped, the smell of burned flesh sizzling the air and tickling my nose. His back slammed the opposite wall next to the door back to the bar and he stared at me wide-eyed and shocked. “The fuck?”

  I took two more steady steps forward, and raised my hand at my side, palm up. Bright blue electric magic danced lovingly across my fingertips, and a surge of violent want rushed through my veins. I could kill him so, so easily, and I was just drunk enough to not care that it was in a public place with witnesses. So what if they found him and came for me? I could kill everyone. I was nearly gleeful at the thought.

  You do not need to go on the run from the cops while trying to find your brother—not any more than you already are. What would Dad say?

  That sobered me, but just barely. Instead of frying him on the spot, I held Jim’s gaze. “Why don’t you go ahead and ignore my final warning? Follow me home. See how that works out for you. I fucking dare you.”

  He held his singed hand to his chest—honestly, I’d only burned half an inch of flesh, but beneath the bravado he was likely a big baby. When he said nothing, I strolled past him, through the door into the bar where Melinoë waited at the exit.

  She’d likely been in the kitchen with the waitress when Jim had followed me in—I didn’t think she’d fail to warn me if she knew he’d go after me. She was a lot like my ex Tanvi in that regard—she might not start shit herself, the way I did, but she’d always have another woman’s back. On guard, maybe with some self-defence. She’d clocked Jim as a problem at the bar before he’d even spoken, just like I did.

  I didn’t bring up the experience, and instead looped my arm through hers as we stepped outside. The cloud of smoke still drifted around the bar, whether it was the same people crowded out back or they took smoke break shifts, I didn’t know. It had been dark when we left the motel but now, somehow, seemed darker still—likely because all the locals were in bed for the night, so what limited light pollution present earlier would be nonexistent now. Other than a light over the bar’s meagre parking lot, there were no streetlamps away from the main street, leaving a half moon and star-pricked sky to light our way. The wide road stretched ahead, and it was only half a kilometer down it to the smaller road that led to the motel.

  Though, as I expected, the much cooler air outside the bar chilled the sweat that had formed on my brow and the back of my neck, I was still warm enough from the alcohol—and Melinoë’s closeness—that I didn’t feel it. Fall was still early in its approach; there would probably be time before it got downright cold. Climate change had messed with the world a lot and we may or may not have snow by Halloween—some years there were blizzards, other years it was so warm I went out in sandals. We could barely predict week to week let alone season to season.

  A strong wind rushed down the road, crackling dry leaves from the heavily treed spots on either side. Melinoë and I still went arm and arm, swaying drunkenly and laughing as we went. We’d reached the scintillating conversations of the inebriated, such as, “Oh my goddess I’m going to fall over” and “What if we’re totally lost and walk around circles until morning” followed by “I feel like my legs don’t remember how to work”. Only half of those words were said properly and I was nearly crying from laughing so hard—made worse by Melinoë’s attempts to quiet me by loudly saying “Shhhh”.

  One thing kept me focusing on walking upright, and that was the sound of the bar door opening and closing behind us, and heavy steps on the gravel.

  I didn’t look back and I didn’t speed up, but I did lean into Melinoë and stumble more than was necessary.

  Better to seem more drunk than I was.

  We continued down the road and he kept his distance—probably because it was too obvious a place to attack anyone. The ensuing adrenaline rush and the fresh air cleared my head some; I breathed in the invisible magic coating my skin and it answered, crawling over me and sinking marrow deep. It brightened my awareness, sparked my energy, and I promised it would be put to good use soon.

  Ahead I spotted the narrower, darker road that branched toward the motel. Trees rose on either side, the air black as pitch even with the brightness of the night sky. I didn’t want to get too close, because there was no sense doing this right near where we were staying—it should look like he was just on his way to town. In fact, it would be even better if I could lead him farther away.

  But not with Melinoë joining me.

  We reached the motel parking lot and she fished out the key. The warding around the doorway flared in recognition as she stepped through, though I left the door open and waited a few steps back.

  “You know,” I said, “before I forget, I want to run over and check Dev’s room.”

  She dropped to sit gracelessly on the bed, glossy black hair falling over her eyes as she frowned. “Oh. I can go with.”

  “Just stay.” I darted forward to snatch the key from her before she could stop me. “I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

  Now that she was sitting, I wasn’t sure she’d be getting up again, and I felt fairly confident she wouldn’t follow.

  I pulled the door closed, locked it, and glanced past the parking lot for the road—I didn’t see Jim, but he could very well be hiding somewhere in the trees.

  I shivered a little, hunching my shoulders as I headed forward. I kept to the center of the narrow dirt road and made a right toward town when I hit the main street.

  It wasn’t long before I heard steps following.

  If he hadn’t? You know, if he just hung back, fine, I would’ve left him alone. But he followed us home. He probably would’ve just crept around and tried to see through the window, maybe jerked off in the woods while ranting about what cunts we were, but a man like that—a man who doesn’t take no for an answer, who feels he’s owed time and conversation from strangers—likely had a whole host of interpersonal trespasses in his past he’d never learned from.

  Midway between the town’s core and the motel, well away from any houses, I made a show of suddenly stopping and retching. It was only a few quick steps for the di
tch to my right, and I stumbled over, kicking up rocks on the shoulder as I went. Let him think I was suddenly vulnerable and puking in a ditch.

  The clouds over the moon made for great cover; my eyes had adjusted well and I was sobering faster by the minute. The ditch tipped towards the woods, and I stepped into the shadow of the trees to wait in a crouch.

  It did not take long.

  My pursuer was indeed Jim—I recognized the square of his shoulders and the shape of his head, and starlight glinted from his glasses. My eyes narrowed as he walked as cautiously a man of his size and entitlement can, steps crunching on the gravel shoulder as he pursued. Probably thinking he’d find me passed out somewhere. I didn’t necessarily think he was going to try raping me—he might get off on a kick to the gut while I was down, or pissing on a helpless woman or something. One could never tell the particular brand of cruelty in play, but just be certain it was there.

  Of course he couldn’t find me and he wasn’t about to go traipsing about the woods. He stood there a moment, looking right past me in the darkness, before stepping into the ditch with careful steps. He was steadier than Melinoë and I had been walking back to the motel—drunk enough to be angry but not actually inebriated.

  I pressed the fingers of my left hand to the ground and sent a charge of crackling magic through the earth. It shot for him and he screamed when it hit his foot, immediately lost his balance, and fell into the ditch on his face.

  Realistically, I knew I should be cautious and not make this obvious. Not like they had a big police force or coroner here, but making it look like he stumbled and hurt himself on the way home was the way to go. The little burn on his hand and foot would be odd but might not stand out anywhere other than with a city coroner who knew to look for signs of magical interference.

  But I could give him a heart attack. There’d be some contact from touching his skin, but it was a possibility. Let him lie there in the ditch as his heart gave out, alone and cold, stinking as his likely full bladder gave. The thought amused me.

  I stepped silently down the ditch toward him as he struggled onto his knees, dirt and grass clinging to him.

  “Hi Jim,” I said softly.

  He spun and landed on his rear as he stared up at me in surprise.

  I dropped to a crouch, grinning. “I did warn you and there are consequences to ignoring that.”

  “You fucking—”

  I wasn’t sure if he was going to mutter bitch or cunt or some other variation, but that’s usually about as original as they get.

  I pressed the fingertips of both hands into the ground. This time I let the magic grow to full visibility, blue electricity that danced harmlessly over my shoulders and down my arms. It curled lovingly about my fingers and connected with the ground, twining and forming a single line that shot for him.

  The charge shot true and went through the ground to him, winding up his body direct for the heart. The electric charge hit, seizing the muscle until it beat erratically.

  He tried to rise. Failed. Slumped onto his knees, one hand gripping his chest and the other flattened on the ground.

  I remained there and watched as he fell onto his side, gasping for breath, reaching uselessly for me, his eyes rolling back. Several minutes passed as his heart gave its last beats and the final breath left him.

  Ultimately it was anti-climatic, but at least I could comfortably stroll home.

  I rose to my feet again and stepped in the opposite direction, climbing the ditch at the end.

  Fourteen

  Dev’s Room

  The alcohol had burned almost completely out of me, but now I had a spike of adrenaline from the kill. The world around me was bright and full of colour, and I was bright and full of want and heat.

  I grinned deliriously and strolled along, finding the lights still on in our motel room.

  But Melinoë was out completely. She’d crashed fully clothed including her boots atop the bed face-first. Her head was turned on its side, mouth open as she snored.

  I was...disappointed. Enough so that it startled me. I’d grown attached to her in the few days we’d been together. There were bits of Melinoë that reminded me of Tanvi—a way she analyzed the world around her, the way her brain worked, how swiftly our thinking aligned on the same wavelength. The difference, though, was that Melinoë didn’t judge me for what I did—she never gave me that look that suggested she looked down at me or thought badly of me for the choices I made. Because I could be wrong, but I suspected I could tell her Jim was dead in a ditch and she wouldn’t criticize me, wouldn’t rant about the morality of it. I realized she’d been offering me something I’d badly needed: acceptance. No lectures on morality, no pushing me to be sympathetic and tolerant towards those who should know better. Just someone who saw the light of a kill in my face, who knew what I was capable of, and didn’t ask me to be anything different than who I already was.

  But she was asleep and missing out on all the fun.

  I looked away and slipped back outside again—I’d intended to check Dev’s room and I still should do that.

  In the car ride to St. Philip Point from the city, Melinoë had mentioned Dev’s room was the second one, so I made the brass number 2 my destination. A single light from outside the main motel office was the only real light in the parking lot; bulbs hung above each door but none were on. It made slinking through the shadows easy, though I sensed no witnesses to what I was about to do.

  I paused outside the door and ran my hand along the cool smooth wood of the frame. The faintest threads of energy buzzed along my fingertips, fading traces of Dev’s warding. Similar to what I’d put around my motel room, though with that tinge of demon magic unique to him. And Melinoë, I supposed, though she hadn’t learned how to do that yet.

  I didn’t bother finding my lockpicks in my messenger bag—didn’t need them. My hand passed over the lock and the bolt turned easily, allowing me access to the room.

  The open curtains over the window let in the little light from outside. I drew them closed and flipped on the light after closing the door—I didn’t imagine anyone would be out for the few minutes I’d be poking around. A visual skim of the room revealed nothing, as Melinoë had said—garbage emptied, bed made, small closet open and only showing a spare blanket folded at the top. I still did a thorough search, checking every corner, under the mattress, dropping to my knees to peer beneath all the furniture and feeling any spots I couldn’t see.

  I kept coming back to what she’d told me—that Dev had claimed if something serious ever happened, he’d go to me. If I believed that—and did I? I wasn’t sure—then perhaps I should believe he’d leave...something here, some kind of warning or message. If he thought Melinoë might come to me for help if he was in trouble, was he considering that I’d eventually come across this room?

  I stood again and skimmed the room, gaze snagging once more on the door I’d walked through. I hadn’t tried it at his apartment—it might not have worked for me there, the magic around it so personal—but it might be worth it here since it was so similar to the warding I’d used myself.

  Hand pressed to the doorframe, I let my eyes go unfocused and breathing slow. Relaxed every part of me, head to toe, until I was nearly wavering on my feet. Let my guards down, let the filaments of warding around the door creep over to brush my skin, tasting and testing, finding me familiar yet foreign. A tingling in my fingertips and then images brushed my mind—brief glimpses, faded and grayscale, moving backward.

  Me entering—just the briefest of glimpses, head tilted as I took in the room.

  Sometime back, Melinoë—a quick flash, sunlight making her black hair gleam sharply.

  A woman with a laundry basket and bucket of cleaning supplies, eyes tired and dark hair wound in a messy bun—motel staff.

  And then I nearly started at the sight of my brother.

  Dark hair cut to his jaw, heavy dark coat, pack slung loosely over his shoulder as he crossed the threshold in a hurry.


  Behind him, another figure. Not Melinoë, but female—just an outline, shorter than me, more petite, glimpse of long hair.

  The warding faded entirely, the last of the magic dissipating.

  I frowned at the doorway and crossed my arms. The images had degraded between each of them—that last one was likely a week back, right when Dev went missing. He was in a hurry and not alone. I hadn’t seen the swarm, but then they wouldn’t necessarily use the door if they were what made him flee. He had the one extra pack with him, but the image was too degraded to tell whether he wore the pendant.

  What the hell was going on here?

  I searched the room again but found absolutely nothing. With a heavy sigh, I left, magically relocking when I made my exit.

  A cool autumn breeze stirred through the parking lot as I gazed toward the road. Dev and whoever was with him had left the room, gotten in the car...and gone where? Cemetery Road, or did they leave St. Philip Point entirely? Had I seen what the warding recorded a day or two earlier, I might’ve found more clues, but that kind of spell was like an electrical charge on a battery—it couldn’t go on forever.

  Damn it.

  Frustrated, tired, and possibly still a touch drunk, I went back to my room and sealed the door after me. Melinoë was still passed out entirely and I thought briefly of waking her with my findings but she was still likely catching up on sleep from the past week. It could wait.

  I turned off the lights and moved toward my bed. Kicked off my boots, wiggled out of my jeans and hoodie, and got under the sheet, watching the faint beams of moonlight gloss her hair and jacket.

  Eventually sleep hit without the need for magic to help it along, and it was sound, for once.

  Fifteen

  Parietis

  I woke lazily, but definitely without a hangover.

  I could not say the same for Melinoë. She was up before me but groggy and grumbling to herself as she banged around in the bathroom. I’d happily slept in until nearly eleven, which definitely cut down on our investigation time, but I felt refreshed and ready to once again kill—er, search.