by Michelle Fox
What?
I turned my head from side-to-side, trying to orient myself. It was a ball of some kind. An old-fashioned ball in a room lined with mirrors framed in gold. The music was dainty and classic, full of violin and harpsichord.
What was I doing there? My breath came short and panic flared hot in my chest. I was lost. I’d fainted and drifted somewhere else. That much I could tell, but how to get back home? I didn’t know. Was Vitor back in the warehouse sucking me dry?
Was I...dying?
Vitor leaned into me. His voice whispered against my skin, dark and low. “Sh. It is just a memory, Sylvie.”
My fingers tightened on his arms.“A-a-a m-memory? How?”
He nodded. “It happens sometimes. Try to enjoy it. I like this one.” With that, he swept me in a grand circle, forcing other couples off the floor. That seemed horribly rude to me, but no one seemed to mind. In fact, they gathered round and watched us. I tried not to think about that too much.
We moved to the center of the dance floor and we performed the intricate steps of a dance I didn’t know, but my body did it, anyway. When the music ended, there was loud applause. Vitor gave a deep bow, and I curtsied even lower.
How did I even know how to do that?
Oh, right, I wasn’t in my body.
A short, lithe man joined us on the dance floor, applauding as he walked over to us. He spoke French, and I understood every word even though I’d never formally studied the language. “That was magnificent, Lord D'Avalogne as always. And Lady D'Avalogne,” the man tilted his head in my general direction, “you move as gracefully as a flower.”
“Thank you, Monsieur le Roi.” The words rolled off my tongue on autopilot. Knowledge that wasn’t mine flowed through me. This man was the King of France. The Sun King. I was in Versailles. I looked more closely at my surroundings. There were gold accents everywhere, one of the motifs being a face set inside a sun.
Vitor cleared his throat. “Perhaps, Monsieur le Roi would have a moment to discuss that business up in Bordeaux?”
The king waved a hand. “Later, Lord D'Avalogne. Now is for pleasure, not business.”
Things went blurry and then sideways. I heard music, felt dancing, but the visual had melted to a smear and spun like a tornado. The sensation of falling hit me. I tried to scream, but I was falling too fast, and then everything went dark.
Chapter Four
I couldn't move, but the darkness had lifted. Vitor's bite throbbed through me, as delicious as trans fats mixed with sugar and something you know you'll regret later.
Vampires were never the good-for-you kind of delicious. They were killing machines with a penchant for elaborate schemes. Yet even though I knew better, I was in a stupor where I couldn’t think about anything but him.
And that vision. What the hell had that been?
Vitor waved his hand in front of my face. “Sylvie? Miss Orion?”
My eyes locked on his. “Huh?” The headache began pounding again, a bass drum of detonating doom.
He frowned. “You are blood struck.”
I wanted to smack him, but couldn’t muster the energy to do so. The magic I’d done earlier on top of feeding a vampire had likely depleted my strength more than usual. I was not myself.
Vitor put a finger in his mouth and pricked his finger with a fang. He then proffered his finger to me, bright blood welling up. "Here. It will help.”
My lips closed around his finger as he slid it into my mouth. I sucked, barely registering the metallic bitterness of the blood he fed me while also being very aware of the sexual symbolism.
I swallowed and slowly came back to myself. It was like waking up after an unplanned nap. I was groggy and lacked mental clarity, but at least I wasn’t fixated on him like a schoolgirl in the throes of her first crush. As an extra bonus, the headache receded.
I pulled away, and putting a hand to my mouth, I stared at him. “What did you do to me?”
In response, he drew me close and seized my lips with his, sending zippy little tingles from my head to my toes. At first I didn’t respond, but then I couldn’t hold back.
Just like that, we were kissing each other. There was a connection between us, hot as a lightning. I didn’t understand it, but I couldn’t ignore it, either.
Mustering my resolve, I fought back my instincts and pushed him away. I wiped my mouth with my sleeve. “What was that about?” My heart pounded triple time, flushing me with heat.
Vitor smiled, but his eyes were sad. They were a light hazel and glittered like topaz even in the shadows of the warehouse. “I must apologize. I became weak and took advantage. It is just...” He trailed off, his expression stricken.
“What?” My body burned for him still, awake with desire and on high alert. Yet, I knew he was a stranger, knew he was not someone I would ever be with.
“You remind me of her.” He touched my face, tracing the curve of my cheek.
There was such longing in his eyes that I couldn’t help but empathize. “Your witch?”
He nodded. “She was the love of my life.”
"And that...vision...dream." I waved my hand. "What was that?"
"A memory of a time when we were happy."
"That was the king of France, right? You were in his court?" I didn't think I'd ever met a vampire so old before. The American ones were usually no more than two-hundred years old.
"Yes. We had business there. A pack of werewolves were attacking people on the road between Versailles and Paris. We were trying to intervene, to save them from execution."
“Why?” I shifted away and sat across from him.
"A witch had charmed them into serving her. We dealt with her, but the wolves stood accused. We managed to convince the king of their innocence."
"And your witch? What happened to her?"
He looked away. “She grew old and died.”
My eyes widened. “You didn’t turn her?”
Vitor gave a slow shake of his head. “You forget the rules. You may not teach me magic, and I cannot bring you over. We are all forbidden to share our powers.”
“Oh, wow.” I sat in silence for a moment. He was right. Turning a witch was forbidden, but there were rumors that it still happened. I hadn't thought about the rules because it had never come up. I lived a vampire free life by the rules and didn’t have to think about limits.
Speaking of limits, humans would not be happy to learn the neighborhood supernatural bounty hunter had left their officers tied up in a warehouse. I needed to call a clean-up crew that wouldn't want to eat them.
I called Detective St. John, who answered on the first ring. "What's up, Sylvie? You find Thorne already?" He barked the question at me.
"No. Not yet. I've got a...situation." I tried to ease him into things. Blurting out the details without any lead up seemed wrong.
"What is it?"
"I've got a few officers who need a little help."
His voice sharpened. "What happened?"
"Let's just say they aren't fans and I had to cuff them for my safety."
That earned me a long-suffering sigh. "Sylvie—"
I held up a hand even though he couldn't see me. "No. Don't 'Sylvie' me. This was pure self-defense. These two need some sensitivity training. They were more than willing to kill me."
"I take it you don't want to stick around to make a statement?"
"I can't." I looked to Vitor. "I've got a hot lead on Sheridon Thorne."
He started to argue with me, but I cut him off. "Just come and get these two geniuses. I'll do any paperwork later."
St. John didn't say anything.
"I'm not a babysitter, Detective. Send your guys to deal with these two or they'll be tied up here for who knows how long."
"You have no idea how much this will make the chief yell at me."
"Tell him they only have themselves to blame. I showed them my ID, and they tried to shoot me."
"Sorry to hear that." There was quiet resignation in his
voice now.
"Just deal with it so I can get Thorne." I rattled off the address and then hung up. I turned to Vitor. "Come on. Let's get out of here."
"So you accept my offer?"
"I don't know, yet." I headed for the door. "We need to talk and it's not safe here."
He came after me, his gait smooth and his face flushed with my blood. It was like he'd never been shot. Some supes had all the luck.
I shook my head. "You have no idea how many healing draughts that taste like troll ass with a of side herpes I'd have to drink to heal like you just did, do you?"
Vitor shrugged as we entered the parking lot. "I can give you more of my blood if you want. It imparts certain...advantages."
"No, thanks." I shuddered and stepped over a pothole on the way to my hearse. The parking lot had been paved once upon a time. Now it was pockmarked by deep potholes and webbed with cracks. Scattered lumps of crumbling concrete posed an additional tripping hazard. I kicked a big chunk out of the way, grateful for my steel-toe boots.
"This is your car?" Vitor gave me a skeptical look.
True, my black hearse had a big dent in the passenger door and the bumper was held on with bungee cords—a new development I would fix just as soon as I dealt with Thorne. It had definitely seen better days and was a few years shy of qualifying as a historical vehicle. Still, it was big, reliable, and no one tried to steal it, which was important in Cleveland.
"Nice cars get noticed."
"So do trash heaps."
"Oh, you're charming." I jiggled the key in the lock on the driver's side—it tended to stick—and opened the door. I hit the unlock button. "Hop in."
He opened the passenger door and stared into the front seat, his mouth pinched and his eyes narrow.
"What? You got bad memories of a hearse or something?"
He just continued to stare.
"Seriously?" I waved my hand in front of his face. "You died, crawled out of a grave, eat people to live, and this car is a problem?" I stuck the key in the ignition and turned. The engine sputtered for a second and then settled into a loud purr. "Unless you've got a limo on call, Mr. Prima Donna, I suggest you get in. Let's go before more cops with itchy trigger fingers show up, mmmkay?"
He took in my poop emoji seat covers and the overflowing caddy between the front passenger and driver seats. I had a precarious pyramid going, one that I had to hold in place with one hand whenever I made sharp turns. I liked to pack for bear.
A prepared bounty hunter always gets their fugitive.
I gunned the motor, and the deep rumble finally got my new vampire friend moving. He climbed in and sank into the seat, reaching back for the seatbelt. "I guess this will do."
"It's old and beat up, but it still works." I held up a finger. "And there's nothing dead in here except you. I'd call that a win." Locking the doors, I put the hearse in gear and spun around until the front pointed toward the exit. Despite taking it easy on the accelerator, we bounced in and out of potholes on our way to the street, which was in marginally better condition than the lot.
We can't all look perfect and live forever. Not even if you're made of steel.
Chapter Five
I took Vitor back to my office to regroup. My office was also where I lived...with my mom. (You try making a living on almost no magic and see if you do better. Hint: You can't. Been there. Done that. Had the weird roommate who always used my razor.)
Naturally, mom was home. This was my karma. She saw all the things I did that she didn't like. I couldn't sneak a sneeze past her let alone large things like vampires. But I'd give it the ol' witch try, anyway.
"So, you need to be quiet." I pulled into the driveway behind my mother's chrome pink Charger. She liked it when people looked, and she could afford the insurance to cover theft.
"I wasn't talking."
"I mean, inside. Just let me do the talking if we run into my mother, okay? She's not a fan of fangs."
Vitor nodded. "Understood. I can wait outside if you like."
"No. My office is upstairs. I just need to get us in there, and we'll be good. Just don't do anything to spook her." I hopped out of my hearse and waited for Vitor to join me. "Come on." I led the way to the side door.
My mother and I lived in a rambling Victorian located in the Supernatural Quarter of Cleveland. She'd restored it long before I was born. Painted in a rainbow of hues true to the Victorian era, it had a turret, three staircases, and rooms full of gleaming wood topped with crown molding.
When I was little, I'd thought it was fun to hide and make everyone panic. There were so many nooks, crannies, and even a few secret passages, that it would take an hour for people to hunt me down. Usually I gave away my position by giggling. When I'd hid one time too many, mom slapped a tracking charm on me and that had been the end of that.
Normally when mom was home, she'd be in her study at the front of the house. My office was up in the attic, and if I took the back staircase on tiptoe, she might not even notice my arrival. Putting my finger to my lips as one last warning, I eased open the back door and motioned for Vitor to enter.
He held back. "I can not pass."
"Oh right. I forgot. The wards." Vampires could go anywhere they wanted, but wards made the urban legends seem true. I did a quick check of the hallway to make sure my mom wasn't around and then in a quiet whisper I defused the wards on the house."I invite you in."
"Thanks." He sauntered past me and then paused while I shut the door. "Why do we have to hide from your mother?"
"Asks the guy who hasn't had a mom in what? Three hundred years?"
He shrugged. "My mother made me borscht every time I came home. And poppy seed rolls."
"Well, my mom doesn't cook. I don't get borsht and poppy seed rolls."
Vitor frowned and looked at me hard. "Wait. You are not a child, are you? The age of adulthood has not changed again, has it?"
"No. I'm an adult." I bit my lip. That'd come out louder than I'd intended.
"If you are of age, you can do as you wish." His tone suggested he was confused as to why I didn't know this fun fact.
"You haven't met my mom. Let's just leave it at that." I waved for him to follow me. "This way." I headed for the back steps.
"Perhaps you should find your own place."
I whirled around and glared at his nose. I didn't want to risk direct eye contact, but I hoped his nose felt uncomfortable."Can you not? We have other things to worry about."
Thankfully, he shut up, and we crept up the stairs. We passed the second floor and then the door to the attic came into sight. I breathed a cautious sigh of relief.
I'd claimed the attic as mine in high school. When it became apparent I wouldn't follow in mom's footsteps, it had become my haven. After college, when it was very clear there was still no hope for me, I'd turned it into an office.
I should've moved out, but mom's house was huge, and my bounty hunter paycheck was small. In theory, there was enough space for us to never cross paths. Of course, my mom didn't care about theories. She was a force unto herself.
Turning the knob, I threw the door open and strode into my office. "Come in."
At the same time, my mother said, "Sylvie, we have to talk."
I whipped my head to the right. "Mom? What are you doing here?"
Mom sat in one of the chairs in front of my desk, legs and arms crossed. As always, her blonde hair was in a tight chignon. A sheath dress in light blue hugged her figure, kept trim by her levitation volleyball league. Naturally, there was a matching purse at her feet, and nude pumps made her ankles look delicate and her legs taut. Mom made the word together feel inadequate.
I sucked in my stomach and stood straighter in my boots. I didn't want the weight talk on top of whatever else she had on her agenda. In reality, I was too damn old for any weight talk, but I'd noticed motherhood did strange things to personal boundaries.
Spotting an empty pizza box on my desk, I lunged forward and stuffed it into the garbage. La
te nights meant fast food. I worked it off chasing skip traces. Mostly.
She stood and clacked her way over to me in her sky-high heels for a quick hug. The orange and bergamot in her custom made perfume enveloped me.
I coughed.
"I heard about Thorne. The High Priestess is upset."
"She called you?"
"Yes. It turns out..." She caught sight of Vitor. "Who is this?"
Vitor stepped forward and bowed. "Vitor Volikov."
"Russian?"
He nodded.
Mom gave me a look. "I thought I warded the house against vampires."
Vitor gestured to me. "I was invited by your daughter."
"I told you to be quiet, remember?" I bared my teeth in a growl.
My mother sucked in one of her deep, calming breaths. "Don't growl, dear. You're a witch, not a shifter."
I frowned at her. "I like growling. It's satisfying."
"Regardless, it's not something the witches of our line do." She sniffed. "Anyway, why is this," she flicked a finger in Vitor's direction, "vampire here?"
"He knows Thorne."
"Ah. I see. What leads do you have?"
"I know what I'm doing, mom."
"Of course, but in Thorne's case, I want to help." A phone rang, and everyone started looking for their phones.
The screen on mine was black. "Not me."
Vitor held up his and shook his head.
"Must be me then." Mom went to where her purse lay on my desk. Picking it up, she checked the caller id. "It's the High Priestess. She's probably looking for an update on Thorne."
"What?" My eyes widened. "Why?" The High Priestess didn't care about skip traces. let alone call my mom about them. This was new.
"The Witch's Council has an interest in Sheridon Thorne. The High Priestess is...concerned." She answered the call. "I'll be right down. Sylvie's here and ready to report on what she knows." Mom shot me a pointed look as she hung up. "She's at the door. I'll go bring her up."
"Wait. The High Priestess is here? Here at our house? To see me? About Thorne? What?" She'd never gotten involved in my day-to-day before. The Triad might call me if things were taking a long time, but that was about it. This was weird.
