Witch Upon a Star (A Midnight Magic Mystery)

by Jennifer Harlow

  AGE 13

  LONDON, ENGLAND

  SWINGING LONDON IN THE 1970s. Glam rock, free love, wild drug filled nights, the perfect place for my official debut into the vampire world. My thirteenth birthday. I was legal, at least under vampiric law, which hadn’t been changed from the days girls married as soon as they blossomed. Regardless, that night I could become a formal consort, taking my rightful place beside Asher’s side until death. I was no longer a secret. I was no longer a child. I would now be part of every facet of his life. My dream came true.

  “Anna?” Asher asked with a knock.

  He stepped into my bedroom a second later. I ceased applying the glitter eye shadow at my white vanity table. Since moving to London the month before, I’d perfected the glam rock look so popular even taxi drivers embraced glitter and androgyny. Transitioning from Galway to London was quite a shock, tantamount to landing on a new planet. I could barely tell the men from the women. In our little Irish country cocoon there was no need for high fashion or even make-up. Most days I’d barely changed out of my leotard or peasant top and corduroys. The only way I knew to overcome the culture shock was to dive in with both feet. At my request, Asher purchased for me a whole new wardrobe from Biba, Chanel, even Bianca Jagger’s boutique. Gone were the baggy peasant top and corduroy pants, replaced with miniskirts, halter tops, and boots. My transformation became complete with a trip to Vidal Sassoon. Good-bye to my lank, waist-long locks, hello to a glowing mane that barely passed my shoulders with my bangs swept to the side just like my favorite actresses, Liv Ullmann and Julie Christie. I’m still astonished by the power of an amazing haircut. It added almost a decade to my appearance, exactly what every thirteen-year-old desires. Asher’s mouth flopped open when he saw me for the first time, which was just the cherry on top.

  He wasn’t the only one to appreciate the new me. Since we arrived in the big city a month before I’d been asked out on dates half a dozen times, five more than my entire two-year tenure in Galway. In Ireland I was that odd, homeschooled American with a fey grandfather and a hermit for a father, who only left her cottage for ballet lessons. Ralph Lang, the son of my instructor, worked up the courage to ask me to dinner, then grew even braver when he stole a kiss while escorting me home. I definitely preferred country boys to their city counterparts. I’d had my bottom pinched twice just walking the London streets. Both offenders sprouted boils by the time they reached home. They may blacken the soul, but hexes definitely brighten the day.

  “I need a few more minutes,” I told Asher.

  “You are not wearing that,” he said with a scowl.

  “What?” I asked as I rose from my vanity. “What’s wrong with it? You said I looked lovely the other day.”

  Asher took in my glittery blue crop top tied in a knot above my bare midriff and fringed miniskirt halfway up my thigh, scowl deepening with every inch he scrutinized. Puberty had so far been kind, rounding out my hips and breasts, though not to the Brigitte Bardot proportions I desired, and added three inches to my height with two more still to go.

  “Beyond the fact it is freezing outside, we are about to enter a den of lions, and you are dressed as prime rib.”

  “But I’m your consort now. You’ll protect me,” I said with a seductive smile as visions of Asher fighting off three bloodthirsty vampires with swords flitted through my imagination.

  “Then please make my task easier. Cover yourself.”

  “But—”

  “Please.”

  It was a miracle he agreed to let me accompany him at all. It took nights of pleading, of pouting, of making my case as if we were in the Old Bailey. Knowing my discovery was inevitable if we stayed in London, and the serendipity that the party was on my birthday, he gave in, but the ice I skated on was wafer thin.

  “Of course,” I said. “Whatever your heart desires.”

  “Thank you.” After an uneven nod, he left the room so I could change.

  He was nervous, about to leap from his own skin to escape the overwhelming oppression he was placing on himself. I’d never seen him in such a state before, save for the night of my eleventh birthday when I made my indecent proposal. That subject never arose again, at least not in such an overt manner. Kisses I once placed on his cheek now found their way to his lips, barely bordering on chaste. Instead of reading curled up in an arm chair, I read snuggled against him, my head resting in the crook of his shoulder. My hand always found his as if they were magnets. Doors were sometimes left open as I showered or changed. All perfectly innocent actions of an affectionate young lady, or I’m sure that’s what he told himself. Just as he’d deluded himself to my reasons for wanting entrance to the vampire world. It was denied to me all our years together, this glamorous exciting underbelly, therefore I had to be part of it. I didn’t assuage him of this misconception.

  The truth was, given the choice between remaining at our cottage alone together for all eternity or in the exciting, seductive vampire world, the cottage won a million times over. Wagging tongues and vicious gossip, and growing suspicions about why Asher never apperared during the day, put an end to our country living. But Asher didn’t seem to mind. I’d sensed he was ready to move on months before. His trips alone to visit friends went from yearly to monthly, the final one lasting two weeks. Two weeks away from me. Was it any wonder I gravitated to poxy Ralph then? The gossip just gave him an excuse to rejoin the vampire community he so desperately missed. A community with tempting distractions everywhere. Ones that had already begun working their wicked magic on him. Since we’d arrived in London he’d abandoned me for them every other night. There was only one option. No matter how frightening and literally bloodthirsty the world I was about to enter could be, I had to stay at his side as much as possible or someone would fill my spot. I had to remain vigilant. I cringe at the depth of my stupidity now. Is there anything more insecure than a teenage girl?

  Asher was smoothing his auburn hair in the hallway mirror when I strolled out in my white knee-length dress, white tights, and red platform shoes that matched my lips and the roses printed on the white silk. If forcing me to change was so I appeared less enticing, the act failed. I went from looking as if I were pretending to appear mature to succeeding in the endeavor. Asher’s mouth opened a fraction as he drank me in. The dress clung in all the right places and had a slight peek-a-boo slit in the middle to show a hint of cleavage. I’d witnessed a similar expression once or twice before when he “caught” me in nothing but my towel or even as I danced around in my skintight leotard. It grew harder and harder to hide my triumph through the years. Quickly, as always, embarrassment or scorn replaced his lust.

  “Am I to your liking? I’m covered as requested.”

  “Yes,” he said after a pause. “You look very pretty, mo chuisle.” My smile wavered a tad. Little girls were pretty, women are beautiful, sophisticated, or enchanting. My escort fit that bill in his white cashmere turtleneck, fitted brown blazer and trousers. “Now, you remember the story, correct?”

  “We’ve been together eight months. We met in New York City, you snatched me up off the street, and brought me home with you to Galway. Tonight, for my fourteenth birthday present, you plan to name me as your consort. If anyone asks me about the past, keep it vague.”

  “Excellent. Also remember, do not meet their eyes, do not go anywhere alone, and do not attempt spells or magic. Your youth and … appearance will already make you a curiosity, do not add any gasoline to enflame them further.”

  “Okay.”

  He stared at me, tension constricting the corners of his eyes. “There are two more unpleasantries we must address before we can depart. There are certain conditions that must be met for consortship to be granted and legally binding. First, we must live under the same roof together.”

  “Okay.”

  “The other two, well … the conditions have not yet been met.”

  “Then we should, right? Can we do them now?”

  “It is not that simple
. I have undergone much debate within myself and decided … I should feed from you before we depart.”

  My back straightened. I was not expecting that. “Oh. Okay.”

  “If you bear my mark, there will be fewer queries regarding the third condition.”

  “Which is?”

  The tension in his eyes spread like a virus across the rest of his face. “That we had made love.”

  The butterflies pirouetted inside my stomach. “Oh.”

  “So I shall feed now, leaving visual proof of the act, and should anyone query about our … intimate relations, you are to smile and say, ‘A lady never speaks of such matters,’ then change the subject. Understood?”

  Any number of replies filled my mind but considering that the ice beneath our feet was so wafer thin that even a smile would smash it, all I could say was, “Okay.”

  Some of the tension waned from the sides of his mouth. “Good. Now please roll up your sleeve.”

  “You’re going to feed from my wrist?”

  “Yes. It will not hurt, I promise you.”

  “It’s not that. It’s just wouldn’t the neck be more … intimate?”

  His face twitched as if electrocuted. “I suppose you are correct. Very well.”

  Inside I was grinning from cheek to cheek, but outwardly I remained as neutral as Switzerland. I’d offered my blood dozens of times when his supply ran low, but he always refused. Wouldn’t hear of it. He once went two days without when a snowstorm quarantined us. He fed from Clifton then. Not that night though. That night he was mine. All mine.

  I swept my hair aside. Ralph had called my neck “swanlike.” Pale, graceful, beautiful. Now Asher was finally claiming it. Me. The man I loved was centimeters from me. We’d been closer, I practically glued myself against him any chance I had, but never like this. My body was alive, in flux, all my cells breathing in the sensation of true lust. Anticipation. Love. I knew how much this act was costing him. How my nymphet routine had eroded his resolve not to cross that last, beguiling border he’d erected to protect me even though I didn’t want that protection. This act, him tasting me, me nourishing him with my lifeforce, him invading my body and taking what he needed could very well crumble him, my noble love. Finally.

  I met his eyes, his piercing blue eyes so filled with trepidation, and desired so badly to touch his face, caress the negativity away, but knew it’d make things worse. “This will not hurt.”

  “I trust you,” I whispered.

  As I stared into those turquoise pools, the pleasant prickle of magic trickled through me like gentle, warm rain. My neck tilted and eyes closed on their own, letting the pleasure overtake me, that I barely registered those fangs puncturing the flesh of my neck. My body jolted but my mind was too busy twirling in the rain in time to his lips and tongue caressing the flowing blood. Then those caresses ceased, as did the magic of the moment. When my eyes opened, Asher had already taken a giant step backward and was wiping my blood from his lips with a handkerchief as if it were poison. He wouldn’t look at me, couldn’t hide the disgusted scowl. Did I taste bad? Was my blood tainted somehow? I touched my neck where those two punctures still oozed blood. “What—”

  “Go clean yourself up,” Asher ordered. He gazed up, eyes now black as midnight, and bared his red fangs. “Now.”

  Four years. I’d lived four years with that man, and for the first time ever, he frightened me. Truly terrified me. “O-okay.”

  I dashed to the bathroom, even locking the door behind me. I stared at myself in the mirror, breath ragged. It was easy to forget what he really was. A hunter. A predator. He subverted that side of himself around me. To protect me. I’d roused that beast, and though for the most part I was unnerved, a part of me was singing out in victory. One more hurdle vaulted, one more barrier down in my pursuit. And though his soul may be black, it would be mine. It was only fair. I gave him mine the moment we met.

  _____

  The cab ride was a somber affair without a glance or word exchanged. When we finally pulled up to our host’s townhouse in Kensington, the car was chillier inside than out. For the first time since the feeding, Asher touched me, giving me his hand to help me from the cab. He didn’t release it when the act was complete, instead wrapping his fingers in mine. I gazed up with a grin but found apathy in return. That stone stare remained affixed as we walked up to the house. Judging from the loud music and laughter the party was in full swing inside the Georgian three-story townhouse. Asher rang the bell, and before his hand lowered, the door opened. A young man in black and white livery, perhaps a few years older than me, stood sentry.

  “Asher and guest,” my date said.

  “You may enter.”

  We’d reached the official point of no return. There should have been a sign with, “Abandon hope all ye who enter here.” I still would have walked right in and shook the hand of the Devil himself with a grin on my face.

  We entered the foyer, which was far more modern than I’d anticipated. White walls, art deco end tables and lamps, even an orange shag carpet. The 70s. Ugh. As we handed our coats to the valet, a couple stumbled from one of the rooms, the woman toking a joint. She was pretty in a generic way with thick black hair, Mediterranean skin, wide brown eyes that would have given her an air of innocence if not for the layers of make-up and barely there silver minidress. I was grossly overdressed if she was an indication. The man was far more dapper in pressed black slacks and blue turtleneck, chestnut hair, and piercing brown eyes that instantly zeroed in on me.

  “Hello, gorgeous-es,” the woman chuckled in a horrible Barbara Streisand imitation. Both had trouble walking, one hanging on the other for support, though the man’s problem had less to do with an altered state. He dragged his right foot slightly as they approached. “I am Minnie, your hostess with the mostest tonight. Thank you for coming to my abo-de. Abode,” she corrected a second later before more cackling. I suddenly felt as if I were back with Sven and Astrid. “That’s a funny word.”

  “I often have difficulty with it myself,” her companion said in a clipped British accent. He momentarily lifted his eyes from me to my companion. “Hello, Asher.”

  “George. Glad to see you are looking well.”

  “Never been a problem of mine, old thing,” George said, eyes once again undressing me. “And who is this delectable creature?”

  I had the strongest urge to hide behind Asher, but he beat me to it, stepping forward to shield me. “Mine,” Asher growled. His head swiveled to Minnie as he reached for my hand once more. “We have business with Lord Richard. Will you please show us to him?”

  “Sure man. Right this way. ”

  Minnie led us through the foyer and upstairs. Over the psychedelic music and revelry I could still hear the groans and squeals of passion as we passed closed doors. Two men channeling Ziggy Stardust meandered out of one, both zipping their flies. Asher’s grip on my hand tightened. Minnie knocked on the last door in the hallway.

  “Yes?” a man asked on the other side.

  “Someone’s demanding to see you. Your old new best friend.”

  “Enter.”

  We entered a small, dark office a far cry from the rest of the house. It was as if we stepped back a century with oil paintings, antique furniture, and only one Tiffany lamp on his desk. The man himself matched the surroundings with burgundy smoking jacket, Von Hapsburg beard, and sandy brown hair.

  “Baby, you’re not even dressed!” Minnie admonished.

  “I have a few more odds and ends to tie up. I shall be down shortly. Please leave us.” Minnie blew him a kiss before literally skipping back to the party. “Please have a seat.”

  “I see you and Byron have reconciled,” Asher said as he sat.

  “A recent occurrence. When Minnie learned of our acquaintanceship, she insisted on an introduction. I have failed to shake him since. He has his charms, I suppose. And he keeps Minnie happy and distracted.” I imagined that wouldn’t take much. “Alain is here as well.”


  The corner’s of Asher’s mouth twitched involuntarily. “Thank you for warning me.”

  “I trust you both will be on your best behavior,” Richard said.

  “Of course. I have no quarrel with him.”

  “And on the subject of family,” Richard said before turning his attention to me. “This must be the Anna you have been speaking of so highly. A pleasure to meet you. Finally.”

  “You as well, sir,” I said with a gracious smile. “It’s an honor. Thank you for having me in your beautiful home.”

  Lord Richard returned my smile. “Beauty and manners. You have chosen you latest consort well.”

  “Without question,” Asher said proudly. “We simply need to fill out the required paperwork.”

  Richard contemplated this for a moment. “How old are you, dear?”

  “Fourteen tonight, sir,” I lied.

  He looked to Asher, eyes narrowing. “In all the centuries I have known you, my friend, you have never taken a lover so young.”

  “I had never met Anna. There is not an older soul on this green earth than her.”

  “Be that as it may,” Richard said, swinging his attention back to me, “I feel it necessary to warn you, girl. This is a large, lifelong commitment. From the moment you sign this contract, you are forever bound by vampiric law. If you break one such law, you and Asher shall both face the consequences. This world of ours that you desire to enter … it is dangerous, amoral, and bloody. There are very few true happy endings. You are all but signing away your soul, dear.”

  “I’ve already done that, sir. I did the second I laid eyes on Asher. It, like my heart, is his. I trust him with my everything. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to stay by his side forever and always.”

  “You say that now, but what of ten years from now? Twenty?”

  “It’s … hard to explain, sir. I don’t know if it’s magic, or just fate but … the moment I met him, I just knew no matter what, time, space, even death, I knew that I would always love him. We could be separated for decades and with one look or word, we would be right back where we are now. Devoted. In love. Meant to be. We’re soul mates, sir. Nothing can ever change that, certainly not a piece of paper. It doesn’t matter. We know what we are to one another, and what we will be until death.”