“You might find that I live my life differently, but I do so for a reason. Those things are purposely outside of these walls, and I hope you will respect that. As you might have noticed, the wolves are not staying here, for your own protection. That is why the wolves left. The more people who have access to you, the more danger you’re in. It is my job, no my obligation to keep you safe, Leslie.” His steady voice should have soothed me, but instead, an unseen fist of fear slammed into me. Was he afraid for me?
“I’m supposed to have tracked someone down, followed them home, and then drained them dry in the city? And of course, I carry my books with me wherever I go. I’m sure if you give me a moment, I can make a paperback appear from thin air.”
I couldn’t help the sarcasm in my voice. This felt like high school. Let’s get the new girl ousted before she’s able to snag the cool football player. Okay, the only analogy was that he wasn’t cool, and this wasn’t high school, but even worse than that, this was supposed to be a sanctuary. It seemed somewhat spoiled now.
“Her name was Bridget McCullough, age twenty-two. She lived in Greenwich Village and was preparing to enter the university in the coming semester. She’d come here from Akron, Ohio.”
“That’s a good beginning. What’s her address?”
He didn’t hesitate and rambled it off to me.
This could go easier than I’d planned, I thought. “Okay, now, take my hand and lead me to the scene.”
He shook his head. “Your anger does not negate what you could have done. I must investigate all angles, even the most unlikely ones. Just because you show no signs of recognition doesn’t mean that you didn’t indeed do something quite horrible.”
I sighed. “The city is overrun with vampires, rogues as you call them, but I’m a suspect because someone left my book at the scene of the crime?” My hands were shaking. I bit down on my lip so hard, that the taste of copper danced on my tongue. “Mm.” My vision began to cloud. “I have to get out of here.”
“I don’t think that is a good idea. No one here knows you are Leslie Love, just Leslie Cutlass. I’m giving my all to protect you. Trust that I can do this.”
He expected me to blindly follow his lead. I could fall victim to rose-colored glasses or help to be rid of this to find out what was on the other side.
“Your life has changed.” He unfurled a newspaper, shaking it. “And there is a high likelihood that should you leave and walk in the daylight, you will burn. Vampires are creatures of the night after all.”
For one, I didn’t care what he thought. His words were not going to hold me back from learning the truth. The only thing I had to do was keep the bloodlust in check and locate Bridget’s apartment.
“Well, it seems that no one likes to think around here, just assume.” I rushed past him and through the door to find Gran waiting.
“It took you long enough. I thought I was going to have to start to prepare your funeral,” she said.
“Me, too. What did you find out from talking to the others?” I didn’t want to worry her about what Alistair had said. He’d do anything to keep me here, even if it kept a target on my back. A part of me recognized that he was fighting for me, even though our barbed conversations had us battling each other. We were like two lobsters stuck in a boiling pot.
“No one wanted to talk to me, but I do have a way of making people respond. So, I swiped a phone. I see you using this all the time, and the groundskeeper had his just lying around. Maybe you can find what you need through a simple punching of keys.”
I shrugged. Almost all smartphones had Internet. I quickly typed in Bridget’s address. The image of the apartment building appeared first in the listing. Double-clicking, I scanned the info and wrote down the information. At the bottom of the page was the logo of Charming Industries in a circle. I pushed that tidbit of information to the back of my mind. “I wished it would be that easy, but …”
“If not, I might have another way.” She then pulled out a raven’s feather.
“What’s that?”
“I overheard Kenneth who was talking to Sam and Della about someone they are calling the seer. Well, the seer is different from a normal supernatural and able to do different things. So, since we are new here, and I can’t do anything, I thought it must be you. I need you to do the ritual with the henbane. Utter your prayer chant while holding this and let’s see if you can shift into your spirit animal.”
“I don’t have my athame for the ritual. I had it when I fell off the ship, but I have no idea where—”
“Yep, thought about that, too.” She passed me the shiny knife. I’d not yet done the ritual Sunflower warned me about. I could choke on my fears or just do it already.
“How?” The knife vibrated in my hand.
“I was speaking to those on the other side. Your aunt Beneatha was adamant I grab it and that glowing green book while taking a tour of the house. I didn’t steal it. It’s yours after all.” For a moment, I thought of my father, but I wouldn’t ask about him. My aunt would watch me as a baby, and it was good to know that she was still watching over me now. “I couldn’t open it, as much as I tried, but maybe it will open for you.”
Moving to the side table, I fingered the worn leather and intricate embossed swirls. “Let me get a pen and some paper.”
I started to pull out drawers when the grimoire opened of its own accord. The book’s pages loudly flipped until it landed on what appeared to be a blank page.
My memory was crap as if huge chunks of it had been suppressed.
Taking a steeling breath, I focused. I knew in Norse mythology, there was a possibility that people had a totem animal or what others called a fylgja. My eyes stung and I heard Gran gasp. “Leslie, your eyes.”
Every day produced something new and different. Glancing at my reflection in the boudoir mirror, I noticed my red eyes, dark circles, and visible veins.
“It is the magic that pulls your nature forth,” Gran reassured.
This was not what I wished to think on. If I wanted to save my ass, I couldn’t waste it ogling my reflection.
“I guess I need to get to the garden downstairs and see what they might have,” I said, turning away and back to the task at hand.
“No need. I was hoping you’d say yes.” Then, Gran produced a pouch of henbane.
Quickly, I sketched the image in my head—that of the Vegvisir, Viking compass. “Sunflower always said that I should use this so I wouldn’t get lost.” I sliced my palm and allowed droplets to fall on the page revealing a Raven’s Spell, like the book knew that which I needed or revealed it in picture form at least. That which I imagined appeared on the page. Ready, I clutched the black feather, lit the henbane with a match, and waited.
“The grimoire appears to belong to you,” Gran said. “You need to focus on that raven.”
I didn’t feel like I could connect with this ceremony—I was different. Everything felt wrong, as if I tried to free myself from invisible tangles and webs. What did this mean, to be connected to a magical book?
“If you don’t find out the truth, Leslie, they are going to try to pin this murder on you. You know what they say: the dead can’t speak.”
A thought formed. “But what if they could? Come, concentrate your energy on mine. With the book’s help, let’s see what we can make happen together. Maybe we can find Bridget.”
But the images that appeared were not of this Bridget woman.
Images anew assaulted me: vampires, restaurant, food delivery guy. My racing to the subway station, reliving the fight between the vampires and wolves. Killian’s gaze as he blew powder in my face in my apartment, followed by Alistair finally appearing. I gasped loudly. All the pieces fell into place. These rogue vampires were after me because of my blood. But also because of me and Sunflower using the magical grimoire that now sat before me. I’d tried to resurrect my father?
Gah! My dad? I’d tried to resurrect my dad? I coughed, choking on this new truth. No matter how
tightly I closed my eyes, everything I knew came back in a rush.
“You knew about Alistair, Gran? When he came into the apartment before any of this happened. You’ve been a part of this? How can I trust you?” My eyes welled and emotion sliced into me.
Tears dripped down my face, my breathing ragged, and with the black feather in my hand, I opened my mouth and only a caw would come out. “You did it,” Gran said. “You found your spirit animal and the book has restored you. It is now yours and only you can use it.”
That didn’t erase the pain of betrayal. I bowed my head and saw spinney black feet and black feathers. My feathers puffed out in horror.
“There is no need to be afraid,” she said. I uttered a gurgled croak as she yanked a feather from my wing. She walked to the window and pulled back the drawn curtains. Luckily, it was still night, but dawn would be here soon. I hopped on the ledge, then Gran lifted me up and tossed me out the opened window as if I were a part of a dove release at a wedding. “Now, go find out the truth.”
Flying wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be. After a pair of false starts and hitting a tree, I learned how to use my wings. It was like soaring with helium.
After what felt like hours, I finally located the address provided on the Internet, thanks to the cell phone. From the outside, the apartment seemed normal, but once inside, I felt the evil that lurked there. Although I wasn’t sure if it were possible, I concentrated on my shape and again, transformed into a cloud of henbane back to my human form.
I’d read enough police procedurals to be dangerous. But I had a talent the police didn’t.
“Bridget,” I called out. I didn’t know what I expected to happen. Maybe a chair sliding across the room, or maybe the air would shimmer, and she’d appear.
Yeah, that would have been too simple.
Instead, a sigil formed and began to glow with bright purple light shooting up from the middle. My eyes rolled into the back of my head; my body began to seize and quake midair. This was magic—a strong magic that had entered this room.
Colors began to splash all around me and out walked Bridget.
“You’ve come to speak with me?” she asked. In her ghostly form, she was young, no more than eighteen in looks, with bobbed short hair. She had on jeans and a black alternative T-shirt, and she was carrying an acoustic guitar.
I couldn’t move, stuck in the light.
“You shouldn’t have. You’ve placed yourself in great danger.” She glanced left and right as if waiting for the boogeyman to come in and knock me out.
“I already am,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Then I’ll show you the truth. Every ghost has a piece of what happened to them but can only see from their perspective.” She reached out and touched me with her calloused hand, and the scene in my mind went from technicolor to black and white. The scenes bled into each other, from her simply preparing a cup of tea, to a figure she couldn’t see grabbing her from behind. The scent of wheat wafted from his skin, mixed with a musty or earthy smell.
“Bridget, did you know him?”
“No. I’d only lived here for a couple of weeks.” Her face dropped its ethereal glow and was replaced with extreme sadness. Her emotions wrapped around me like a blanket and held me down despite my struggle. They caused my own eyes to leak large tears.
“Where did you live before?” I struggled to ask and confirm what Alistair had told me.
“Ohio. I came to the city to try and get my bearings before classes started. I’d rented this place through an ad at my internship at Charming Industries.”
Her final words faded, and I dropped to the floor with a heavy thud. She was a stranger to the supernatural but had connections to it. Connections that had existed way before me. Although my book might be the calling card, this wasn’t about me, but about someone else connected to Alistair for sure. How did Beau Charming fit into all of this?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Leslie
I couldn’t quite get the bird transformation thing to work to return to the compound.
But wow, talk about the heebie-jeebies. I could feel someone watching me. Goosebumps. Maybe it was because I was a stranger here, but, although the roads were mostly empty besides an occasional car, and no one meandered around, it seemed that this part of Greenwich Village was almost deserted.
The sun was rising, and the higher it got, the more tired I became. Where it landed, it then began to burn.
Crapola, I was going to fry in the sunlight. I pulled my collar up to protect my neck and walked looking downward, peering through the spaces in between hair strands.
“Don’t burst into flames. Don’t burst into flames.”
Over the years, I’d watched many vampire movies, and that was what I knew to be true. They were creatures of the night. Alistair had also warned me. What in the name of the gods had given me the idea to go out and stay out after sunrise?
Needing a reprieve, I ducked into an old telephone booth—I’d never been so happy to see a retro phone booth.
There was only one number I knew: Claudine's. She'd know who to inform, and maybe what I could do.
The phone rang three times before she picked up with her thick morning voice. “Hello?”
“Claudine, it's me, Leslie.”
“Why are you calling me? Better yet, where are you? Your schedule must have you super busy. I haven’t seen you in a few days… You were supposed to have that breakfast this morning. You know, Maurice is never going to take you back with you ditching paying customers.”
Evidently, she knew nothing about my falling overboard and must have been too busy to try and track me down. I wanted to shake some sense into her.
“Well, Maurice can shove it since someone threw me over the rail.”
“Very funny.” She yawned.
“But I'm telling you the truth. I could swear Donovan did this. He didn't like that I wasn't into him or his desire to be a cover model.”
“Shh, don't say that too loudly. He's right here snoring away.”
“Aagh, you slept with him.” I didn’t know why I was shocked by any of this. She’d planned to hook up with him as soon as he’d put on that kilt. Dang it, Claudine!
“Well, I didn't get much sleep.” She giggled.
“You're going to giggle when he tried to kill me?”
“I tried to kill him too, hey.”
“You’re a fool.”
“I was doing ready-for-the-world on him, backward cowgirl, getting my model fill. Girl, you just don't know.”
How could her craziness talk me down? I could only laugh at her reaction. That was Claudine—not a serious bone in her body. Of course, I wouldn't want it any other way.
“You don't sound too concerned. I'm serious.” I kept glancing around me as the feeling of danger grew.
“You're alive and okay?” I could hear the laughter leaving her voice as my words settled.
Claudine was a good older sister. She could pick and tease, and knew how to have a good time, too. But there were two things you didn’t tell an Aries: that you ate all of their favorite foods, and of course, that you hurt their kin. Now, it wasn’t about them not being able to hurt kinsfolk. That pleasure was for family members only. She could be a real meanie to me, for sure, but she didn’t like it when someone else did that.
“Can you hold on for a minute?” she asked.
I held the phone to my ear, and just heard a sharp cry, and a thump. “Now get your crusty ass out of my bed and stay there until I call ship security on you. No one hurts my sister, you fucking moron.”
“Please!” I heard Donovan’s plea.
In my mind, Claudine had kicked him out of her bed and probably poked him with something to wake him up—something sharp and pointy.
“What are you doing to him?” I asked.
“Making sure he doesn’t slither away. Snake. I’m going to turn you in to security, and maybe they can throw your ass overboard. Hold on.”
I
heard an alarm blaring, as she must have pressed the emergency call button.
“I mean,” she continued, “don’t get me wrong. He was cute and all, but no, that’s just nasty and stupid. He’s like moronic without reason.” Her voice lowered for a moment, and she leaned away from the phone. “And your sex was not that good. Your body’s a hot advertisement, but your moves are lacking. If I wanted something that could just lay there, well, there are toys for that shit. Damn. Attempted murdering psycho.”
“Are we talking about this? I don’t have much time.”
“You go after men in suits instead of men who work those fast food jobs. They know how to make me meow.”
“You just like free fries,” I said.
“I like free anything, and right now, I like free d—”
“Don't even. I didn't call to find out if your fantasy came true last night. I hope you get tested when you get back to shore. Don't know what that bag of fleas has.”
“One thing I can say is, he was packing a potato or maybe a sock. Whatever it was, it thudded out, like a wham! He’s a lot sexier on those covers. Do you think they do Photoshop?”
“Thanks for asking, Claudine. I’m quite okay. My bodyguard, the smooth Alistair, is a billionaire who’s looking after me until I can figure out what I’m supposed to do.”
“Just sit on his face, and your problems will be gone.”
“Bye, Claudine.” I could only take so much of her shenanigans.
“Whoa, but how am I going to reach you? Seriously though, are you okay? I got this piece of shit here, and I might just poke his eye out with this fish fork. I’m so mad right now, and I don’t like being mad, Leslie. That’s what this cruise was supposed to be about—relaxation, no strings, and instead, I have to deal with this.”
Only my sister could make my being pushed overboard about her. “I'll call you back once I figure it all out.”
“But where did you wash up at?”
“I’m back in New York.”
Once Bitten: A Vampire Urban Fantasy Mystery (Order of the Dragon: Wolf's Den) Page 12
