by Brandon Witt
“Give it time. I will release the rest of you.” Her eyes held mine once again. “You’ll stay calm, not go after anybody?”
“Mom! Really, I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“Be quiet, Finn!” She leaned in closer. “Well, Brett, do I have your word?”
I nodded frantically.
“Very well, then.” She repeated the process, gently tracing down my left arm with the palm of her hand. The tingling and itching started anew. Once more she waited for several seconds, gauging my every movement and reaction. Finn didn’t interrupt her again.
It felt like hours by the time she had repeated the process on my neck, right and left legs, and finished with her hand pressed on my chest. I groaned as the sharpness pulsed through my body with each beat of my heart. Just as the itching flamed over my skin like thousands of fire ants, she placed a hand over my forehead. “Don’t scratch. Give it a moment. You’ll be fine.”
Gradually my skin cooled, and my breathing returned to normal. She nodded in satisfaction.
“Can I get up now? Please.”
“Of course, Brett. Slowly, though.” The switch in her tone from interrogator to motherly was disconcerting, but a welcome change.
I groaned again, this time in pleasure, as I cautiously sat up, stretched and swung my legs over the side, then stood.
Tension filled the room as we all stood there, each waiting for the other to make a move, to show their intentions.
Finn grinned at me encouragingly but then returned to looking serious. “So, back to my question. Did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Drink any of his blood?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“Good.” Finn’s mom nodded once more. “You’d know if you had.”
“Why? Besides being gross, why else would it matter if I drank some of the guy’s blood?” Despite my internal turmoil, I couldn’t restrain my curiosity.
Finn’s grin broadened. “Well, we don’t need any newly raised vampires running around the house.”
“Why do you keep calling him that? He wasn’t a vampire.”
“Why not?” It was Finn’s mom’s turn to grin.
“Because there is no such thing as vampires!”
“Oh? Well, then what about witches?”
“Of course not.”
“Are you blind, boy? What do you think just happened in here?”
I opened my mouth to reply, but I didn’t have an answer. What did I think happened? How had she held me down without any ropes? And if I was drugged, how did she release the effects one body part at a time? “I don’t know. What did happen?”
“Well, let me put it this way.” She thrust out her hand at me. “I’m Paulette de Morisco, and I am a witch and a baker.” I only stared at her hand, which she then used to gesture over to Finn. “And this is Finn de Morisco, a warlock and my son.”
My gaze continued to pass over them, one to the other and back again. Other than being obviously amused with themselves, they seemed to be quite serious. “Let me get this straight. You’re telling me that the owner of my favorite restaurant tried to set me up with his magic brother-in-law?”
“Warlock, actually.” Finn winked at me. I could tell he was still nervous, but he seemed to be trying to put me at ease. Although how that was supposed to happen when they were telling me they were witches, I had no idea.
“Ricardo is a warlock as well,” Paulette interjected, “just not a very good one.” Finn glared at her reproachfully.
Just keep playing along. “Okay, fine, the restaurant is owned and operated by a warlock, I got set up with another warlock, and then I got… uh… taken by a vampire?”
“Pretty much.” Finn moved over and sat on the edge of the bed. “Honestly, I’m a little confused why you’re having such a hard time grasping this when you have the power of fire.”
Power of fire. “And what does that mean? Why do I have the power of fire, whatever that is?”
Paulette let out a little laugh. Now that she had lost most of her defensiveness and wasn’t holding me prisoner on a bed, she looked like a normal, mildly plump, fiftyish housewife, albeit one with long black hair and nearly flawless skin. “Well, I would guess it is fairly clear what the power of fire means. You’re the one who set the vampire on fire.”
“And by vampire, you mean…?”
“Vampire.” Finn held up his two index fingers to his mouth and pointed them down as he wiggled them. “Sharp fangs, undead, only come out at night, drinking blood.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.” Despite myself, it was starting to seem a little less crazy and even more terrifying. I turned my attention back to Paulette. “And what does all this make me?”
She smiled a sweet smile, although her dark eyes still had a hint of nervousness about them. “I’m not sure, dear.”
“Hello?” A voice sounded from somewhere else in the house, causing me to jump.
“Oh, that must be my husband. I didn’t hear the car pull in.”
Chapter 7
“STAY here,” Paulette commanded as she brushed past me out the door and closed it behind her.
I glanced over at Finn. He attempted a smile, but it faltered and he refocused on the floor. With Paulette out of the room, everything felt a little less real. If it weren’t for the muffled raised voices from outside the bedroom and the throbbing in my neck, I probably could have pretended that nothing strange had happened. Maybe it was just wishful thinking and not wanting to have to consider the implications of everything that was going on.
My gaze traveled down Finn’s body, since he wasn’t looking. He really was beautiful. Without his mother in the room, he seemed more self-conscious. I couldn’t help believe that he’d done everything he could do to save me. “I’m sorry that I don’t remember you from the restaurant.”
His gaze flitted up at me, his cheeks flushing. “It’s okay. I hear that vampires make it hard to concentrate on anything else around you.” A little laugh escaped. “Actually, it kinda makes me feel better. When I sat down at the booth, you wouldn’t even acknowledge that I was there. It wasn’t till you got up and walked off that I realized you were looking at someone else. By the time I saw him and realized he was a vampire, he already had you through the door.”
At the mention of vampire, my hand, of its own accord, gingerly covered the wound on my neck. “Yeah, it was impossible to look away. I’ve never felt like that before.” At the mention of him, even now, his green eyes seemed to float in front of my face, and I could feel his cold skin on mine. Scenes from the alley flashed behind my eyes.
“You okay?” I felt a hand on my arm and glanced down. Finn had moved closer.
“Yeah, sorry.” I forced myself to focus on Finn’s face, trying to replace the emerald eyes with the kind, warm brown ones in front of me. There were rings of yellow, nearly gold, around his pupils, which seemed to cut through the brown of the iris in a pattern, almost like a star. “Uh, so, you’ve had to deal with vampires a lot, huh?”
He shook his head. “No, not hardly. Mom and Dad would point them out to us when we were kids, so we would know the telltale signs. I see one from a distance from time to time, but they leave us alone for the most part. Tonight was only the second time I’ve been so close to one.”
The conversation was making me nervous. “So, this is for real, this whole vampire, witch thing?”
Finn gave me an apologetic smile. “Yeah.”
“And your mom’s a witch and you’re a… warlock?”
“Yeah.”
“So that means your dad is a…?”
“He’s a warlock too.”
“Okay.” I took a deep breath. I felt like a fool even having this conversation. Part of me wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, but part of it felt right. Kind of like when I finally admitted to myself that I was gay. As much as I wanted to fight it, as much as I did fight it, some place inside of me felt completed, at peace. “So I’m one too,
then. Aren’t I?”
“One what?” His voice sounded apprehensive. “A vampire?”
“No!” I brought my suddenly raised voice back down to normal. “No, I think I would’ve figured that out on my own when I was drinking people’s blood. I’m a warlock too, right?”
Finn shook his head.
There was a sharp increase in the volume of the voices outside the room. We both looked toward the door. I made out a few curse words from a female voice I didn’t recognize.
Finn groaned. “Shit, what is she doing here?”
“Who?” The tone in his voice made my pulse begin to race. I wasn’t typically this easily set on edge, although considering the evening’s events, I cut myself some slack. “Should I get out of here? Go out the window?”
“No, she’s not that bad.” He laughed. “Well, not quite. It’s Caitlin, my sister. This is her old room, but she doesn’t live here anymore. She must have still been at the shop with Dad when Mom called.”
“She’s a witch too, then, I guess?”
“Yeah. All my sisters are. Runs in the family, you know.”
I nearly asked how many sisters he had, but then realized I didn’t really care. “You said you found me in the alley, right? That you saw me set the… the vampire on fire?”
Finn nodded.
“What happened to him? Did I kill him?” A shot of hope darted through me at the thought that maybe I’d managed to destroy the fucker after all.
“No, he got the fire out. He looked horrible, over half of him burned away, but it takes a lot more than that to kill one.”
I remembered his charred, eyeless face as he stood above me and cringed. “Then what happened? Did he come after you?”
“He took off down the alley. He didn’t even notice I was there. At least I don’t think he did. I thought you were dead, but when I got closer to you, I could see you breathing. You were just unconscious. I ran and got my truck, loaded you up, and brought you here. The rest you know.”
I wasn’t really sure what to say. “Thanks, I guess. For helping me.”
He shrugged it off. “All I did was bring you here. I probably should have taken you back to my place. If I’d thought about it, I would have. Mom always overreacts at first.” More yelling from somewhere else in the house made its way into the bedroom. Finn grinned. “Another thing that runs in the family.”
“Your mom seems to believe that I’m not going to try to kill all of you now, at least.”
“Oh yeah, she does. She’s really good at reading people. She was just afraid, I think, not knowing what you are. It’s obvious you’re not a warlock, your fire wouldn’t have been like that, and she’s right, you do look like a demon, at least from what I have heard about them, anyway….”
“I do? How? Is there a mark or something on me that I can’t see?” I glanced down at my hands—half expecting to see “666” glowing up at me like a stamp under black light.
“Well, not exactly. All the stories I have heard about demons say”—his gaze darted away nervously once more—“that demons are the most beautiful creatures to walk the earth.”
We both jumped when the bedroom door flew open. Paulette, her face flushed and her voice breathy, leaned in through the doorway and beckoned us to follow her. “Come on, boys, I think I’ve finally gotten your sister calmed down enough for us to have an intelligent conversation.”
Finn raised his eyebrows at his mother. “What’s she wanting to do?”
Paulette rolled her eyes. “She wants us to call the Vampire Cathedral.”
Finn snorted. “Right! ’Cause we have them on speed dial!”
I lowered my voice as I looked at Finn. “What’s the Vampire Cathedral?”
Finn attempted a smile and shook his head. “Don’t ask. You don’t wanna know.”
“It doesn’t matter. Come on downstairs. They’re waiting in the living room.” Paulette turned and left the room, assuming we would follow.
Finn fell in line behind his mother. As we walked down the hall, we passed a few more bedrooms. The doors were open, but the lights were off, so I couldn’t see any details other than the outline of beds and other pieces of furniture. At the end of the hallway, we came to a staircase and made our way down.
It appeared that the downstairs was all one massive room. At the foot of the stairs was a large rectangular wooden table with several spindled chairs around it. In the center of the table, sitting on a doily, was a cake platter with a mostly eaten chocolate cake. The right side of the room was a long, open kitchen. The countertops were a lime green, while the tiles and painted wood were a pale yellow. It could have looked retro. However, even from a distance, the age of it was apparent, even though it was all spotless and pristine. The entire room was papered in a blue-and-white floral pattern that was clearly from a different era than the kitchen décor but still obviously dated.
The only space not covered in the passé wallpaper was the left side of the room, several feet in front of the dining area. Here, there was a sunken living room with orange shag carpet. Dark wood paneling covered the walls. Under different circumstances, I’m not sure I could have kept my reaction to the room unnoticeable. However, after merely a glance around the room, all my attention was focused on the three people occupying the recessed space.
The tension was palpable. No one said a word. There was a handsome man, who I would have placed in his midfifties, perched on the edge of a brown recliner. I assumed this was Finn’s father. His face was tight, but he attempted a smile when my eyes met his. Although they weren’t identical, it was easy to see that Finn got most of his physical features from his father.
Close to him, seated on the couch next to a window, was a very pretty woman. She had long mahogany hair that fell past her waist and gathered around her on the sofa cushion. Her olive-green eyes were wide, and she glanced away when she noticed me observing her. Her delicate fingers were tipped with long rose-colored nails and shook as she folded and unfolded them in her lap.
The only commotion in the room came from a short, thin woman pacing back and forth in front of the barren fireplace. She was wearing a skintight black minidress. Her hair was spiky and had been dyed black with red-and-orange streaks down the middle. Her dark eyes glared at me in fury. I suddenly found myself starting to sweat under her gaze.
Paulette and Finn had taken the three steps down into the living room and left me standing above them all, trying to figure out what to do.
“Come on down, Brett. Take a seat.” Paulette motioned toward one of the cream-colored chairs, which looked like it had been brought over from the dining room set. Finn sat down on an identical one next to it.
After another second’s hesitation, I moved down the stairs and sat, feeling utterly exposed.
As she made her way to sit next to the woman on the couch, Paulette patted the man in the recliner on his shoulder. “This is my husband, Wendell de Morisco.” He didn’t say anything, but smiled once more and nodded. I wasn’t sure what I was expected to say, so I simply nodded back.
Paulette motioned toward the long-haired woman next to her. “This is my youngest daughter, Cynthia.” Cynthia did not look up at me but kept her eyes firmly focused on her nails. Paulette continued, undisturbed. “Of course, you already know my oldest daughter, Christina, from the restaurant. She and Ricardo aren’t aware of what all has happened this evening. I didn’t want to wake the boys, even if I had known it was going to be a family meeting.” At this, the pacing woman let out a disgusted sound and muttered something under her breath. Paulette sighed and motioned toward the fidgety woman. “And this is our middle daughter, Caitlin.”
At the sound of her name, the breath the woman seemed to be holding broke free in a streaming wave. “Seriously, Mother, don’t you think this is all a little ridiculous? Why are you wasting time with formal introductions when we need to get this over and done with?” Caitlin didn’t take her eyes off me as she addressed her mother. “You can tell by looking at him wha
t he is.”
“Shut up, Caitlin. You’re being a bitch.” Finn sneered at his sister, his expression equal parts angry and bored, as if this were a typical sibling disagreement. “If Brett were a demon, do you really think any of us would be sitting here discussing it? We’d be burned to a crisp already.”
“And what if he’s biding his time? You’re just excited to have a cute boy in the house.”
“Just because you don’t know what to do with a hot guy, Caitlin, doesn’t make him a demon!”
“Enough!” Paulette clapped her hands with more force than I would have thought possible. I could have sworn I felt a rush of wind reverberate from her as her hands came together. She glared at her daughter. “Before I brought him down here, we agreed we would talk calmly and rationally.” She turned to Finn. “And watch your language, and try to remember neither of you are teenagers anymore.”
“Mom? Can I go up to my room? I don’t really think you need me to help figure this out.” Cynthia’s voice was soft and birdlike as she addressed her mother from where she had sunken into the couch.
“Oh, grow a pair, Cynthia!” Caitlin snarled. “You’re twenty-seven years old. Act like it!” No sooner had the words left her mouth than her hand raised to cover it, as if she’d shocked herself with her words.
“Stop it!” Paulette raised her voice, cutting off her daughter. “Caitlin, you don’t live here, so you are free to go. But if you choose to stay, you will control your tongue. And, Cynthia, by all means, if you can’t handle this, you can leave.” Her voice didn’t sound cruel when she addressed Cynthia, and it was clearly laced with concern.
As if she had been suddenly cut loose, Cynthia popped out of the sofa and half ran, half skipped out of the living room and up the stairs.
Ignoring Caitlin’s renewed muttering, Paulette addressed me. “Brett, I made a mistake, and I am sorry. I overreacted. If I had listened to Finn and talked to you first, I would have realized you weren’t a demon. I wouldn’t have called Wendell in such a tizzy and caused all this drama. We aren’t going to hold you captive. You are free to go whenever you wish.”
