"Help me sit up." I could cast my spell lying down just as easily. If I sat up, though, I might have more control. Over what, I honestly couldn't say. However, after someone has beaten you all to shit, control calls to you like a siren's song - powerful and irresistible.
"I don't think you should move." If he thought that, I must look as utterly awful as I felt.
"Morgan," I began.
"No." His arm flexed under my head. I hadn't realized he already supported me. "If that's what you want. I'll help you."
Slowly, very slowly, he began to lift me into a sitting position. My body protested every tiny movement. Nausea lurched alarmingly in my stomach. I forgot to breathe.
"All right?" Ash asked. I don't know when I closed my eyes. I opened them again. The room slanted. I was positive I had a concussion, but now I worried about the severity of it. "Do you want me to stop?"
Ah. I was slanted not the room. That was good. I had no idea if my spells would work if I had a severe concussion. I've never had to worry about that before.
"I'm fine."
Ash growled at my comment. An honest-to-demon growl. "All right. I'm not fine, but you can continue to sit me up."
A miserable eternity later, I sat upright. Ash wrapped one big arm around my shoulders for support, his other rested gently below my breasts. I couldn't fall forward or backwards. Which was a huge relief, because if I did either one, the pain alone would kill me.
"Now what?"
I concentrated on just breathing in and out. "Give me a minute and I'll cast a healing spell."
I took more than one minute. When I knew the world wouldn't spin, I took stock of my situation. I sat on the floor. A box had been shoved under my feet, which accounted for my continued lack of balance. Copious amounts of blood pooled around me in a circle large enough to make me shudder. My right hand rested inside a glass cup. A steady stream ran down my arm from the large gash on my shoulder.
Crimson drops of my blood trickled into the glass like a slow leak from the Red Cross van.
"Why am I bleeding into a cup?" I caught the grimace on Morgan's face when I looked up for my answer. "Friends don't drink friends Morgan." Did I have to keep reminding her?
The arm behind me stiffened. "You're going to drink her blood?"
"Please don't shout." I lifted my bleeding arm to my pounding head.
The glass clinked on the concrete. I cracked an eye open. The white of her fangs flashed as Morgan said, "Waste not. Want not." She drained the whole glass. It had been about two thirds full. Of my blood.
I considered passing out for the fourth time. Ash growled. Morgan licked her lips.
My skin started to burn. Now what? What nasty injury wanted to make itself known now? I could only take so much. I pressed my other hand over my burning shoulder. My hand began to burn. Startled, I looked down. My stomach twisted and my vision blurred at the abrupt movement. The moment I could see clearly, I yelled, "Ash!"
He cursed and moved back. Thankfully his hands remained in place so I didn't fall over. Morgan yelped. She flashed away. A second later cold water gushed over my shoulder and down my body.
"Are you hurt?" Ash's hands trembled.
"Don't you mean hurt more?"
"Morgan, please." The very last thing I needed was these two arguing.
"She is not allowed to drink your blood." I know that I'm a modern witch and I absolutely shouldn't like the very possessive tone in Ash's voice. My heart flat out didn't care.
Besides I wasn't happy that Morgan drank my blood either. However . . . she is a vampire and that's what they do. She's always accepted me the way I am. I can do no less.
Blood drinking vampire. Half-bred witch. Fire starting demon. We all are what we are.
I patted Ash's hand. From mid-arm up, tiny flames continued to dance over his skin. "She's a vampire, Ash."
He growled louder.
"Why don't you calm down?" I tilted my head towards his toasty body. "That is why you caught on fire, right?" He may have blushed, but with the orange and red flames flickering over most of his body, it would have been redundant.
Ash inhaled deeply. The flames disappeared.
"Wonderful. Now if you both would refrain from doing anything vampire-ish or demon-ish, I would like to cast a healing spell and I need to concentrate."
I can do healing spells just as easily as the next witch. Although we don't usually heal major injuries. The HC have no need of our spells and the humans get spooked by that much magic these days.
A witch has to be careful using certain types of magic. The lesser spells – truth spells, minor healing spells and the like – required a small amount of magic. The bigger spells required much more magic and came at a price. Things were never exactly the same afterwards.
Also, it involves a lot of energy - both to cast the spell and for my body to heal. I didn't have a lot of energy at the moment, so I didn't know how well my spell would work.
Ash and Morgan shut up. I began my spell. My magic gathered in the pit of my stomach. A familiar warmth. As I said the words, it moved outward, flowing gently over and under my skin, seeking out each injury. Like the waters of spring washing down a mountainside, my magic swept over me.
The sharp shards of pain receded. My stomach settled. The wet trails of blood tickling down my skin stopped.
I uttered the last words of the spell.
I hadn't healed completely. I knew it even before I opened my eyes. But I had fixed the worst of the damages. Tomorrow, after I rested, I could probably finish fixing myself up.
Hopefully, the worst that had happened was I lost a freckle or two. I'd have to take inventory later.
"I've never seen anything like that."
I turned to look at Ash. My left eye still throbbed, but I could open it fully. "I'm a witch." I explained. "I work with magic."
"It's beautiful."
I blushed. I've never considered what I do to be beautiful. I've never really thought that much about it. It's just part of who I am.
"I, uh." I didn't know what to say. His amber eyes flickered. Ruby flames tipped in blue sprang from his broad shoulders and licked their way down his massive chest. His skin rippled as his muscles flexed.
"I'm still here."
We both spun towards Morgan. I had forgotten she was there. Wow. Wow. Wow.
Morgan smiled. Specks of my blood stained her teeth. "Now that Kate is feeling better, we should figure out who the hell attacked her. And how soon before they plan to do it again."
****
"I can stand." I bit my tongue as I waited for his answer.
Ash resettled his weight against the wall. I grabbed on to his shoulders so I wouldn't go flying.
All right, all right, I'll be honest. Ash held me firmly enough that I knew I wouldn't budge if the floor opened beneath us and we began a free fall to . . . Wherever.
I just wanted an excuse to touch him.
As soon as he realized I'd healed enough to move, Ash had picked me up. Morgan left ten minutes ago to find the trail left by my attacker. Ash hadn't put me down.
I sat on his lap, cradled by his hard thighs and powerful arms. I could be a size seventeen and still be small in his embrace. His left arm curved around my back. His right could drive me to distraction. It rested on my thighs. His hand had somehow found its way inside a tear in my pants. His fingers played over and over on my skin.
"We might as well be comfortable while we wait."
Whew. I didn't want to move. If given the option, I'd happily keep my butt planted where it was - forever. But I didn't want to come across as a total weenie, either. I'd just had the stuff kicked out of me. I thought it would make me look good if I at least appeared to be strong.
His arm jostled me gently. "You're a tiny thing." Tiny? Moi? "Your weight is nothing." Bless demon lord mommas everywhere for making such wonderfully big demons.
"Does your head hurt?"
"No." In comparison to the gang of jackhammers that had been
diligently trying to crack open my skull, my head barely hurt. I pressed that head into his shoulder. I'd given up on Ash making a move. He'd been asking me variations of that same question for the past ten minutes.
Tragically for my hormones, I was not quite up to making a move myself.
Demons run hot. Whether it's an adaptation to living in Hell or a demonic trait, I don't know. Heat poured off his body and threaded its way through mine, cuddling me close.
I couldn't be more comfortable if someone handed me a cold beer, a hot romance and a bag of Dove chocolates. I'd drink the beer separately from the chocolates, but you get the idea.
It kinda weirded me out.
I know about hormones and crazy attraction, that instant surge of lust that has nothing to do with the person and everything to do with pheromones. I'd survived my teen years.
I know about dinner and a movie dates, the occasional sweet holding of a hand and date approved bite swapping. I'd dated a few guys for several weeks before we broke up or they died. I know about all that stuff.
Sitting still on Ash's lap with no expectation of foreplay - or a quickie on the nearest available surface - and simply enjoying the moment, this time, his heartbeat under my ear, the sheer comfort of his presence - was way out of my league.
And yet I could not make myself move.
I loved every millisecond. I breathed in the faint hint of smoke that clung to him. It flooded my senses, tempted cherished memories. Woodsy, nature, home, love. It drew me in and made me think of impossible things.
This is what is behind every match, every love, every blending of the souls that I search for.
But I, I'd never yearned, before this moment.
And I didn't know what to do about it. My heart pulled one way, my head the other. I wanted - longed - with every fiber of my being, to follow that heart. To dive into him and anything he offered.
But I'm cursed. I've suffered the results of lightly playing around with the idea of a relationship. I didn't want merely the possibilities with Ash. I wanted everything.
I sighed.
Ash's entire body stiffened abruptly. He pulled me tightly into his chest. His big hand came up to cover my head.
"I can't find a trail."
At Morgan's furious announcement, he relaxed.
"What do you mean you can't?" His question rumbled under my ear.
"I mean exactly that." I wiggled. Ash lifted his hand. Morgan stomped an angry line back and forth several feet away, hands fisted into pale circles.
"I can't find a trail. Of any sort." She stopped. Her body utterly still. "No scent. No footprints. Nothing."
20. Retracing My Steps.
I held the empty leash loosely as we walked down the sidewalk. The sun pounded down on my head, it added to the free-for-all in my brain. Step, pain, step, heat, step, ignore him.
Neither one of us was willing to break the silence. We'd been walking for a good hour. At least. I'd worked another healing spell, but it would take the better part of the day for me to heal completely. The attack last night had taken too much out of me.
Step, I'm gasping for air with Ash and I haven't even slept with him, step, pain, step, no trace at all?, step.
Hell.
"You gonna say somethin'?" Al asked.
"Are you going to talk to me?"
"I'm talkin' now."
I took a breath. We walked several more feet. My head started to pound.
"Yes, you are." I could behave like any other rational witch. "Right now." Okay, so maybe not a very nice one.
"I shoulda been there!" He danced ahead several steps, skittered to a stop. "Ya look like hell. I shoulda been there to stop this guy."
"I told you! I don't know who or what it was that attacked me." I couldn't look at his tiny frame. Most of my body continued to throb. If Al had been with me . . . I shuddered.
"That's why ya needed me!" I pictured him in his human body. Tall, wide, probably worked out religiously, harness snug against his kidney, thumb stabbing at his chest.
"Al, we've already been over this." Six times by my count since he woke up and got a good look at my face.
"Fine. I don't want you to date a demon." He rumbled up at me. I looked straight ahead. On to round two.
"A demon? Or Ash?"
"Any demon!" He snapped at a passing fly. I don't think he could help himself. We both ignored his doggy lapse.
"Al, you don't want me to date anyone but you." My teeth ached. "And you're . . ." I snapped my jaw shut. Damn it all.
"Yeah? I'm what?" He sat on his hind end in the middle of the sidewalk. His brown eyes glistened up at me. "Go ahead." He tilted his itty-bitty chin. "Say it."
I stared down at him. At least five feet separated us. That and an entire species.
And all the countless hours we'd shared bound us together.
"I love you, Al." My eyes watered. I'd be a total emotional mess if I survived all this. "I don't want to fight with you."
"Ah, Doll." He walked over, leaned into my leg. I picked him up and he licked my face. "I love ya too."
I knew. That was the problem.
I started to walk again. Movement helped. I didn't put him down, he didn't complain. I think we both needed the physical closeness just then.
"Ya know, I could really use a drink."
Preaching to the Coven. A drink to forget my worries, my pain, my . . .
"The sun is damn hot today. I'd kill for some cold water."
I stumbled. "Right." I coughed. "Cold water does sound good." Anytime Al mentioned the word kill, I paid close attention. Once a hit-man, always a hit-man.
"With a whiskey chaser." Now, he was talking. "That looks like a good place up ahead."
He would not give up on going to a bar. I'm not a lush. I like a beer now and then and the company, but it probably had nothing to do with me. Going into a bar would give credence to Al as something other than a dog.
Two in the afternoon. Whatever dive he'd spotted would probably be open. If I wanted a minimal amount of peace . . . Spike's. We'd walked all the way to Spike's.
I did a one-eighty. Sure enough, we'd managed to walk close to three miles. Spike's was the next building over. The parking lot was empty. The action at Spike's obviously didn't start up until dark.
In the light of day, the neighborhood didn't appear as bad as I'd suspected. "Business closed" signs marred the front of a few concrete facades. But not many.
I counted three buildings undergoing construction of some sort. Scoping out the area as far as I could see, the telltale signs were quite obvious. Rural renewal.
The business witch inside of me squealed. The economy hasn't shown many signs of an abrupt about face. Miserably slow covered it better. Writing the rent check for Love Required each month doesn't equate to a dance in the park. If I survived, relocating wouldn't be a bad idea.
My clientele changed all the time and a new office, without the lingering stain of death or Ivan, would certainly lift my spirits.
I set Al down and pulled out a notepad and pen.
"You in, Doll?"
I jotted down the last number on the sign pasted to the door of a charming wood-sided building with window boxes. I love window boxes. "What?"
Al tilted his head defiantly at Spike's. "I said, you in?"
Damn his short-furred little hide. Al was finally talking to me in a decent manner. He knew I wouldn't risk another argument right now.
I double-checked the area. No bikes or cars lounged anywhere in the parking lot.
"Yeah Al, I'm in."
****
I opened the door. The blinds were pulled on the two windows so the interior of the bar was almost as dark as it had been last night. I scoped out the entire room. I didn't see anyone.
"If the bartender says no, we leave." I whispered to Al. "And if you talk at all, I mean it, just one word and we leave."
Al grinned. His eyes sparkled. He also didn't say a word. He knew I was serious. His little body vib
rated with his excitement.
I don't think he has a problem with alcohol. He likes a nice Chianti with his pasta, but so do I. He does know where I keep the whiskey. I made a mental note to check the levels when I got home, but truly, I think he was just happy to be in a place of human business.
In his furry little mind, he probably saw this as the first step in cementing our relationship. Right now all I cared about was that he listened to me.
This could really work to my advantage. If we got away with this, I should see about bringing Al to more bars. It gave me something to hold over his obstinate hit-man head. I'm fairly certain Lolly has gotten over being pissed off at Morgan and myself.
Two steps away from the bar, I realized we were completely alone.
"I'll be right out." I looked at the open door on one end behind the bar. The deep voice continued, "I'm restocking. I'll be out in a minute."
Al tilted his head up at me.
"No," I said firmly. "No talking inside the bar period." He huffed out a tiny breath.
I sat down on the same stool I'd occupied the night before. It gave me a good view of the front door. I held Al in my arms.
Firm footsteps echoed loudly in the empty room. Mr. Wowza walked through the door. Today he wore a slate gray t-shirt, the same two spiked, leather cuffs on his wrists and possibly the exact same pair of jeans. His certain patches looked even better than yesterday.
Yum. Yum. Yum. I'm not a slutty witch. I merely appreciate beauty wherever I see it. And this man had some very beautiful places indeed.
Al wiggled in my arms. I checked for drool.
"Hello again!" If I am going to ask someone for a favor, I try to lead with my best cheerleading voice. I'd not been on the Black Cat cheerleading squad in high school, nor had I been friends with those witches, but I'd spent plenty of time in front of my mirror imitating them.
Just in case . . .you know, the quarterback should come to his senses and realize he liked me way better than that straight-haired little Lana. Don't you just hate the name Lana? It makes me nuts to this day.
Dead Vampires Don't Date Page 13
