Blood Ties

by Gina Whitney

  The Bolingbroke siblings had racked up an impressive list of underworld mortal connections—dirty vice cops, venereal-disease-ravaged prostitutes, hired killers, closeted politicians, and hardcore drug addicts. These were the types of people who got them what they needed without all the scrutiny and paper trails that came with legal methods. James preferred the addicts because he found them to be the least likely to become turncoats…as long as the drugs kept coming in.

  Henry was James’s current snitch. Henry basically lived at a hopping nightspot called Club Entice, way over in Chesapeake. He always gave James the heads-up whenever Adrian somehow managed to escape the confines of the Southern Shores house. James didn’t care if Adrian thought the clubs around the OBX were dull compared to the big city ones. He had given Adrian explicit orders to remain low-key. But Adrian somehow always managed to travel the 120 miles to party and act like a raunchy hot-dogger at Club Entice.

  “James, man, your brother is down here acting all rowdy and loud. I think he’s had way too much to drink, and he’s drawing a pretty big crowd,” Henry said. James could hear his excessive yawning, an early symptom of heroin withdrawal.

  “Damn it!” James said, not wanting to deal with Adrian’s shenanigans once again. He stormed toward Adrian’s room rubbing his twinging stomach. “How long has he been there?” “Not long,” Henry said, sounding jittery. “Hey, uh, if you’re coming by, some cash would be appreciated. Even if it’s just a little.”

  James was barely paying attention to Henry. “Sure, whatever.” He was more interested in getting to Adrian’s room at the end of the hall, and just hung up on Henry.

  James hated going into Adrian’s room. The vibration in there was frigid and hollow, just like Adrian. The four walls enclosed a lifeless space void of décor. The only furniture was a king-sized bed covered with a lonely, black fitted sheet that was always raised at the corners. James swiped his hand. The room hazed over where he and Addison had placed a binding spell to keep their wayward brother trapped in there. James thought it was ridiculous that Adrian, who was hundreds of years old, still acted like a seventeen-year-old kid. No matter. James was still his big brother and felt obliged to watch over him. James called out to Addison.

  Addison practically ghosted into the hallway. “What’s up?” she asked with an extremely rare burger in her hand. James didn’t feel it necessary to tell Addison about the strange feeling in his stomach, in case it was nothing.

  “Adrian is acting out again. We’ve got to go get him,” James said.

  “Aw… I guess I have to get dressed.”

  James knew Addison was faking displeasure and controlling her urge to turn cartwheels all the way to her room. Even though she was tired of reining Adrian in, she often suffered from cabin fever, which manifested in a mild form of OCD— usually pathologically arranging canned goods in the cabinets for hours on end. James figured tonight would be a well-deserved outing for her, considering all she’d been through, even if it was just to Club Entice to drag Adrian back home. Something was better than nothing.

  James snickered as he watched Addison go to her room. She was forcing herself to walk stoically; she didn’t want to let James know how excited she was. However, her internal exhilaration was brimming so much, she looked like a kindergartener holding her pee, trying to make it to the bathroom.

  The slight smile that had appeared on James’s lips melted away. It was replaced by that feeling—that gnawing feeling. He knew that the off-putting knot was not caused by Adrian’s mischief, but he couldn’t quite locate the source no matter how hard he tried. And he didn’t have time to contemplate it either. He needed to focus his attention on uncovering how Adrian had gotten out.

  James continued swooshing his hand around the room, looking for any weak spots in the vapor. Then he saw that the closet door was cracked open a bit. He pushed it and saw a hole in the binding cloud, right at the attic door. James climbed up, pushing the small door open. He peered in and discovered that the tiny, round attic window had been Adrian’s mode of escape.

  “That bastard.”

  James squirmed on the velvet fainting couch, waiting on Addison to get dressed. He clicked his tongue to alleviate the tension that had spread throughout his body. It had taken him two minutes to get ready, but he was well aware of Addison’s prolonged routine. She would fastidiously shave off every single hair that was not on her head, and douse her slender body with Chanel No. 5. just in case she stumbled upon some handsome male witch from her old clan—which never happened. She’d even gotten a clitoral piercing for such an improbable event. James found it utterly amazing his sister would tell him such personal details about her potential sex life, but he also knew she was shameless.

  Addison popped into the living room decked out in a black mini skirt, fishnet stockings covered by thigh-high boots, and an impossibly tight top. James thought she looked like one of Anna Gristina’s girls.

  “What took you so long?” he asked, as if he didn’t know. “We’re just retrieving the prodigal brother. And by the way, you’re going to call too much attention to yourself with that getup. Go put on jeans and a T-shirt.”

  “What? Did you think I was going out looking like a troll? Besides, we’re going to Club Entice. A T-shirt and jeans would pull more attention than this. Duh.”

  “I can see the horny wheels spinning in your head. But remember, we’re just picking up Adrian. So whatever wild fantasies you have swirling around that in that brain of yours, put them to rest.”

  “Brother, I haven’t left your ass yet, but that option still exists. So I’d shut up if I were you.” Addison stepped back and got a full view of herself in the hallway mirror. “Oh my God, Addison!” she said to herself. “Look at you! You’re so damned hot.”

  James interrupted her display of self-love and pushed her out of the house. He watched as she almost quantum leapt to the car. James was about to take a step off the porch, but something in the air caused him to hang back. He looked around, scanning the darkness for whatever was causing his ill feeling. He thought he heard a voice—a small whisper. Simultaneously the dull pain in his stomach became razor sharp.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Addison asked, impatiently waiting for him to open the car door.

  James listened closer to the night air, half expecting something to jump out at him. But he only heard a peculiar rustle bristling through the trees.

  Club Entice was the hottest spot in Chesapeake. It was housed in a stand-alone building that was noticeably taller than the others on the street. The creepy exterior was made up of large, gray stones that were weatherworn and dirty. The muted sounds of death-industrial music thumped from inside, causing the ground to quake to its rhythm. Club Entice’s patrons clustered on the wrong side of the velvet rope in front of a Gothic arched, black door while two depraved gargoyles looked down at them in judgment, as if they were god himself.

  James and Addison strolled past the pulsating crowd and showed the burly bouncer a gold VIP card. The bouncer unlatched the rope and let them pass, no questions asked. As the Bolingbrokes made their way into the club, the restless crowd hissed and threw an assortment of items they found on the street.

  The ringleader of the rebellious crowd was a wanna-becool redneck taking out his blue-collar frustrations on the Bolingbrokes. “You fucking assholes,” the redneck said through his yellowing teeth. “You think you’re special or something? That you don’t have to stand in line? Fuck y’all!” The redneck threw, with all his might, an unopened forty-ounce bottle of beer, straight at James’s head.

  From James’s perspective it appeared as if it were happening in slow motion. He calmly closed his eyes and used the slightest bit of magic to block the impending torpedo. The glass bottle fell to the sidewalk like it had hit an invisible wall. The crowd heckled the redneck; they were all too drunk and stupid to know they had just witnessed a nifty bit of witchery. The bouncer snapped his fingers, summoning his buddies. They picked up the redneck by all f
our of his limbs and tossed him into a trash container in the alley.

  Addison took the whole thing in stride. “What an asshole,” she said, adjusting one of her stray hairs.

  The door opened, releasing a pent-up barrier of sound. James and Addison followed the long hall of flying buttresses, lined with stained glass images of red devils and statues of demons. The hall led to a cavernous space in the center of the club complete with seizure-inducing lights and eardrum-piercing music.

  James could see Addison resisting the urge to dance. “I’m going to go look for Adrian,” she shouted and then was quickly swallowed up by the crowd. James scoured the room as he made his way through the packed horde of wildly dancing clubbers. The mortals could sense something was different about James, and they parted like the Red Sea. He noticed out of the corner of his eye a tall, blonde tart slinking over to him.

  The inebriated young woman spoke with a whimsical voice. “Hi there. I’m Zoë. You wanna get me a drink?”

  At that moment a stifling shriek pierced James’s ear, as if someone had placed a plastic megaphone to it and screamed.

  His face contorted, and he looked—involuntarily—at Zoë as if she were the most atrocious thing he had ever seen.

  “Fucker, if you didn’t want to hang out with me, you could’ve just said so,” she said, miffed and walking away in search of her next target.

  Through blurry vision, James could see Henry rushing over to him. Henry was flushed and needed a fix.

  “Adrian is going onstage,” Henry said, holding his hand out, making a give me motion. James placed a few brand-new bills into his palm. Henry didn’t even stick around long enough to say thanks; he had an urgent date with his dealer.

  James looked over and saw Adrian as he stepped casually out onto the stage. James knew right away that Adrian was using his charisma—his magical, magnetic appeal—to arouse bewitched admiration in others. It was similar to what mortals call je ne sais quoi.

  Adrian was clad in plain, black leather pants with a marquisette shirt. He wore no shoes to showcase his unusually attractive feet. He fingered his longish, wavy, brown hair, playing coy as he took the microphone.

  James, unimpressed by Adrian’s spellbinding hypnosis, watched the crowd. These people could hardly contain their worship of this false idol and, at any moment, could have turned from an energized throng into a full-on riot mob. James decided he’d had enough of the farce and headed toward the stage just as Adrian started to drone a hauntingly poetic song. But a discarnate voice yelled inside James’s head, dropping him to the sticky floor.

  “James!” shouted the voice again, getting louder and louder, like it was drilling itself out of his skull. He finally recognized who it was: Evelyn. He hadn’t heard that voice in more than twenty years. Her summoning spell was working.

  Adrian saw James when he fell to the floor, and didn’t appreciate how some of the crowd had gathered around him. Adrian believed James was muscling in on his charisma spell, and it would be a couple of days before he would have the energy to conjure it up again. So, as he went on with his song, he channeled the force of James’s pain to fuel his spell. Adrian knelt down on one knee with the microphone stand between his legs. He stroked the stand in a masturbatory manner, sending the audience into a frenzy. James could feel Adrian draining his energy. At the same time, fleeting images of Evelyn and Massapequa crashed through his mind.

  Addison scrambled over to him. As soon as she touched him, a spike of pain pounded her head.

  “I saw her too,” she said as she placed James on a chair.

  “We’ve been summoned. We’ve got to go immediately.” He could see the disappointment in Addison’s eyes.

  “I know,” she said in a low voice. She hesitated a bit. “We don’t have to do this, you know. This is our last chance to turn back.”

  James did not answer her. He was tired of this same old conversation, and his mind was made up. Right then Addison gave up fighting against his plan.

  “So we’re leaving right this minute, huh? Guess that means I can’t even go back to the house and get any clothes. Alright, I’ll get Adrian,” she said.

  Addison rushed the stage and yanked the microphone away from him. “Show’s over,” she said to the crowd over the mic’s screeching feedback. She dragged Adrian off the stage. “Come on, lover boy.”

  “I swear! Don’t you have anything better to do than to chase me around, Grandma?” he yelled, standing his ground.

  “First off, you aren’t even supposed to be here. We’ve all agreed on that point a million times before. Second, Grace’s Awakening is happening. We’ve got to go. We’ll pick up the other one along the way.”

  “Bummer,” he said, following Addison over to James, and waving a final goodbye to his enamored groupies.

  Chapter Twelve

  I think somehow we learn who we really are and then we live with that decision.

  —Eleanor Roosevelt

  Aunt Evelyn led me to the back of the house, where we ended up standing next to a door that had always been locked as far back as I could remember.

  “So I get to see what’s behind the magic curtain,” I said, pointing to the door.

  “Not yet, Grace.” Aunt Evelyn pushed a wide wall panel. It popped open, revealing a hidden, narrow staircase. She put her hand on my shoulder like she was bracing me for something, and urged me forward.

  “Follow me,” Aunt Evelyn said.

  My lungs took in the dense, stuffy air as we ascended the creaky, wooden steps.

  “Who even knew you had an attic?” I let my hands guide me up the poorly lit corridor.

  We reached the top, and it was like stepping backward in time. I ducked to avoid the low, vaulted wooden beams that were mere inches from my head. The attic was filled with items left behind by previous owners long since passed. An antique sewing mannequin stood to my side like she was the attic’s guardian. Dust-smothered quilts and a decrepit rocking chair sat in limbo, waiting to become useful again. Miscellaneous drape-covered items stood around the room.

  “Let’s start with some family heirlooms. I have a few of your mother’s baubles as well,” Aunt Evelyn murmured as she treaded to the other side of the attic. “There’s so much to tell you.”

  She threw a very old, white sheet off some large object. “Aha! Grace, help me pull this truck to the middle of the floor.” She beamed. I helped her slide the heavy, leather truck and noted it had a fleur-de-lis across the front in pink and burgundy.

  “This is the same symbol I saw in my dream, right before Samantha…,” I said, not being able to finish the thought. My fingers traced the pattern of the delicate flower.

  “Grace, that particular flower represents our family, our ancestry…the most honorable Valois coven. When we awaken the symbol usually manifests on some part of our body. To those not initiated, it may very well look like a beautiful tattoo, a birth mark, or even a scar.”

  “That’s why you checked me when I got here. You were looking for the fleur-de-lis.”

  “Yes. I must admit, it is highly unusual for a witch not to have her mark by the end of puberty. But you aren’t a by-the-book witch, now are you.”

  Aunt Evelyn opened the large steamer truck. The relic released a vacuum of stale air. It was filled with yellowed parchment paper so decayed it disintegrated with the slightest touch. Containers of dried Dragon’s Blood ink, stamps and waxes, rattles, and a druid robe had been carefully placed inside.

  I picked up the robe and held it up. “This was my mother’s?” Aunt Evelyn nodded yes.

  As I stood to try on the robe, I noticed a box at the bottom of the trunk. Even though it looked as old as the world itself, it had managed to retain its faultless refinement and grandeur. I opened it and discovered it was actually three nested boxes, like matryoshka dolls. The smallest container held an antique jewelry box that looked like it belonged to royalty. I placed the jewelry box on a nearby Boulle-styled desk that was raised on bronze cabriole legs. I c
aressed the box with my fingers, savoring the moment.

  I gently opened it, not daring to rush and possibly break this treasure. Tucked inside the velvet lining, a five-carat ruby was set atop an artfully crafted platinum ring. Another piece was a cameo pin with a rose-colored backdrop, with a fleur-delis adorning its bottom. Next there was a ruby pendant, again featuring the fleur-de-lis and enshrined by pave diamonds. I held it up, inexplicably drawn to it more than the other items. “Grace, all of these jewels belonged to your mother. The pendant was her favorite. If you’re feeling a particularly strong connection to it, that’s completely normal. In fact, it’s better than normal. Being able to connect to your deceased mother on a physical level gives me hope that your powers are indeed great. I’m going to leave you alone with your gifts. Call if you need me,” Aunt Evelyn said with a knowing look on her face. “Go ahead and try on the pendant. It suits you,” she added as she slipped out the door.

  I found a full-length floor mirror clouded with the whitish film of age. I placed the pendant around my neck. Even through the mirror’s fog, I thought it looked awesomely good on me. As I admired my reflection, my head began spinning faster and faster. My legs were knocked right from under me. And then…I was out.

  I woke up in a castle somewhere in the past. This place must’ve been built at a time when kings and queens ruled the lands. How had I gotten there? I didn’t know. All I knew was I was scared and alone. My almost paralyzing fear kept me from screaming for help.

  If ever I’d needed Julie, it was right then.

  “Okay. Okay. Just breathe,” I told myself, struggling against hyperventilation. I looked down at the cold, marble floor, each tile different from the next. My eyes moved up to the oversized oil paintings of severe-looking people hanging on every wall. There was a double staircase, one on the left and one on the right. Their railings were delicately engraved with fleur-de-lis, flowers, and multitudes of intertwining vines.