“Sex can be gentle. Have I mentioned you’re weakening?”
I groaned at his lack of subtlety. “It’s not just about blood and sex,” I murmured. “He either can’t or won’t shift or do magic of any kind. The answer is to jog his memory. I bought him a laptop today and showed him some cat videos.”
“Cat videos?” Poe forced a gag.
I spread my hands. “I want him to learn about the modern world. LOL cats are the gateway drug. Oh, and that panda that sneezes. I love that one.”
“Is he still hunting?”
“And fishing. Sometimes he stares blankly out the window,” I said honestly. “Have you ever seen squirrel stew, Poe? It ain’t pretty.”
“Sounds delicious.” Poe smacked his beak.
“I try to be charming, but it feels forced.” I pressed a finger into my chin. “It is forced. We are two strangers, and I’m trying to force him to fall in love with me like a creeper. He probably wishes the entire thing was a bad dream. Plus, I think he might be depressed.”
“Ya think? He falls asleep in 1698 and wakes up in 2015, having witnessed his fiancé burned at the stake and his entire community, including his parents, struck down by the cursed spellbook used to bind her. Of all the things Rick could be, depressed is the most logical.”
“I don’t know how to help him remember. I need him, Poe. If you’re right about the mirror and my magic is waning, things are going to go downhill fast.”
“Perhaps if you dressed a bit more comely?”
I looked down at my black T-shirt, jeans, and boots. My outfit was enchanted to remain comfortable in any weather and to bend and stretch to the demands of my job. I loved it. “What’s wrong with this?”
“You have a skull and crossbones on your chest.”
“It’s fun. It says dangerous, yet fashionably casual.”
“It says weird goth girl with emotional problems.”
“You’d have emotional problems too if your fiancé left you at the altar and then forgot who you were. This is who I am.” I stretched my arms to the sides. “Grateful Knight. Love me or leave me.”
Poe cleared his throat. “Only problem is, if Rick doesn’t love you and leaves you, it could mean your death. This is serious. If you can’t bring back Rick’s memories, at least try to make him want you. Tell him you need blood and sex, pronto. Love can happen at its own pace.”
Love. I hoped it could happen at all. Sometimes Rick treated me like his captor, like he didn’t quite trust me. I still loved him, even after he left me at the altar and ended up drugged in Tabetha’s bed. Those are hard things to forgive, but I’d let them go. I loved Rick from a deep, forever place in my soul. A place that couldn’t be reached by all the nastiness Tabetha had doled out before I tore her apart.
I rolled my eyes. Poe’s concern for my well-being had as much to do with his existence being tied to mine as for my safety. I got it. I did. I couldn’t go on much longer without Rick. But I also couldn’t lose him. If I pushed him too hard, I might drive him away.
“What was that?” I said, perking my ears.
“What?”
“You didn’t hear that? It was a twanging sound. Very faint. Like a guitar string being strung.”
“Crap, Grateful. Move!” Poe took off from my shoulder, and I hit the pavement just in time. A silver arrow passed between us, where my head had been seconds ago. I leaped to my feet and drew Nightshade, searching the alley for the source of the shot. Platinum and black streaked behind an open window. I rushed toward the building, ducking inside the door.
Large blue eyes flashed from behind a six-foot stack of beer cases. A liquor store, although closed by the looks of things. A thick layer of dust covered the shelves and bottles.
“Come out and face your judgment.” Nightshade’s blue glow filled the room. “I’ll be merciful if you make this easy.”
A metallic laugh echoed through the store, bouncing off the glass bottles around me. My face tightened. Only one person laughed like that. Soleil. It was a fae laugh. I cursed under my breath. Fecking fae. The creatures were infinitely diverse and harder than hell to kill.
The twang of his bow rang through the room, and I shifted, putting a shelf of bourbon between us. The effort was futile. The arrow sliced through the metal shelf like butter and shattered a bottle of Jack Daniels beside my ducking head. Whatever kind of fae this was, he was playing for keeps.
I went possum, flopping to the floor and rolling to my back. With a painful moan, I grabbed the fallen arrow. Silver shaft and tip. Hawk feather fletching branded with a circular symbol. Wait. I’d seen this symbol before somewhere.
Nightshade hummed to me in warning. I tucked the arrow under my neck and closed my eyes to the narrowest of slits. I didn’t hear him coming until he was standing over me. Definitely fae.
It was hard to concentrate on anything beyond the arrow pointed at my head, but I forced myself as he drew near. Platinum silver hair fell blade straight from a widow’s peak, framing a pale complexion that housed oversized blue eyes and full red lips. Despite the white hair, his skin was taut and wrinkle free, and he carried the vibrancy of youth. He wore a black suit with the same familiar circular symbol bronzed and pinned to his lapel. Some fae, like sprites and pixies, were smaller in stature, but he was human-sized, at least six foot, with a lanky but muscular build. I could never mistake him for human though because he approached me fluidly, like his feet never touched the floor, his bones and joints flexible things, lithe and supple. He lowered the point of his arrow toward my nose.
With superhuman speed, I sprang up and rotated sideways, the night air lifting me. Nightshade circled, slicing through the drawn arrow. The silver arrowhead rattled to the floor. My target didn’t hesitate for a moment. The bottom of his bow flipped up, catching me under the chin and knocking my head back. Through swirling stars, I saw him draw another arrow, lightning fast, and take a step back to aim.
I pushed through the lights dancing in my vision, ducked under his releasing arrow, and tackled him into the bourbon. The shelf toppled, liquor and glass spraying around our crashing bodies. I scrambled to get the upper hand, but I hadn’t counted on the bottles. Broken glass shredded me. Blood rushed in crimson rivulets down the outside of my arms and from a particularly large gash in my leg. The more I struggled, the more I bled. With one hand braced on a metal shelf near my ear, I fought to get my feet under me, wedging them between two of the lower projections. The fae’s gloved fist pounded into my ribcage, knocking me back into the glass and metal.
His opposite fist hammered toward my throat. I blocked, grunting as my forearm took the force of it. I jammed my foot between us and kicked as I called on the wind to lift me out of the rubble. My magic answered me but weakly. Just enough to get me out of the mess, but not enough to get away. A fizzle instead of a boom. I scrambled to the front of the store, angling between the stack of beer cases and a big picture window.
“Give yourself up. You’re going to the hellmouth,” I called.
There was a slap and the beer toppled. I dodged the heavy cases, the glass and suds spraying from the impact with the floor. The fae rushed me, his face in mine in no time. I had the advantage. His bow was gone, thrown from us in the scuffle. Nightshade, on the other hand, was still in my grip. I kicked as hard as I could into his stomach to put space between us.
He yelped in pain and bared his teeth. Stepping back, I placed Nightshade’s glowing tip to his neck. “I sentence you—”
Usually, the glow would wrap around my target and transport them to the hellmouth at my condemnation, but my judgment stuck in my throat as Nightshade petered out, and her blade became normal bone. “What the hellmouth?” I cursed.
A punch landed in my side, folding me in half. Nightshade didn’t fail me this time. Enchanted or not, she sliced, skimming my side and severing the wrist of my attacker. Silver blood sprayed as the fae recoiled, a tinny scraped-metal shriek breaking his full red lips. I backed away, shaking Nightshade to try to
get her to work. How was I supposed to send this baddie on if she wouldn’t enforce my judgment?
The fae lowered his shoulder and barreled into me. My feet left the floor, and we crashed through the picture window, glass shredding what was left of my exposed skin. The force of the impact threw Nightshade from my grip, and I landed in the street, covered in silver fae blood courtesy of his spurting wrist.
“Ow! What the f—?” Where the silver blood hit my wounds, my skin sizzled and foamed like acid. I screamed and thrashed, trying to brush the stuff off me. It stuck like tar.
“Stupid witch.” The creature crawled off me and cuddled his bloody stump to his chest. “Goblin blood is poisonous to your kind. You’re as good as dead.”
Goblin? I knew almost nothing about goblins. Less than nothing. That they existed was the extent of my education. At the moment, I sorely regretted my lack of edification.
My muscles twitched and hardened. Rigid, shivering, I couldn’t swallow. Foam filled my mouth and spilled over the side of my face. I gagged and coughed reflexively. The cobblestone street was cold and uncomfortable under my head and back.
“You did it, Tobias!” A female goblin came into view beside the one called Tobias. The two were almost identical, blue eyes twinkling as if my impending death was a huge victory. She tucked her long white hair behind a pointy ear, exposing a bronze symbol pinned to her lapel. It was the same symbol as on the arrow fletching, and it seemed to taunt me with its vague familiarity. “This is a proud day. There will be much celebration.”
“I need the doctor,” Tobias moaned, hugging his bleeding stump.
In cold blood, the female drew her bow and released an arrow into my shoulder, unnecessary considering I was dying anyway. Bitch. My muscles rigid, I couldn’t even flinch from the pain.
“Come, brother.” She stepped over my body to wrap her arm around his shoulders and help him away to whatever doctor treated silver-blooded goblins.
They left me there to die. I was the woman I’d seen dying in the street! My breath gurgled in my bloody throat. The pain was excruciating as the neurotoxin worked its way to my lungs. I could barely draw air as it was, but as the venom did its dirty work, my inhales whistled as if my throat was closing off. I tried to reach out with my magic, but I was too weak. I couldn’t even sense Nightshade in my current condition.
My eyes burned. I’d lost my ability to blink. All the muscles of my face had frozen in place. I took one last tight breath and thought of Rick. If I did die and was reincarnated now, there would be no one to help him get his memories back. No one to help the new me find her magic. No one to manage the Monk’s Hill or Salem wards in my absence.
I tried to release the breath I was holding but couldn’t, and I couldn’t draw another one. Spots danced in my vision, and then, despite my eyelids being locked open, the world around me turned black as night, and I slipped into oblivion.
Chapter 3
Dangerous Liaisons
As a reincarnated witch, you would think I’d be used to dying, but apparently death never loses its edge. My lungs ached, the neurotoxin rendering them unable to release the air trapped inside me. I was frozen, vulnerable, and slowly succumbing to the creeping darkness of death. I silently said goodbye to Rick, to my father, Michelle, Poe… where was Poe, anyway?
Warm liquid washed over my arms and legs, my face, my open eyes, into my mouth. The shock of the dousing revived me, and I tried again to breathe.
“Come on, Hecate. Don’t disappoint me by feigning ineptitude.” Julius’s smooth voice slipped through my mind—the leader of the free vampire coven in Carlton City and unexpected ally as of late.
I swallowed the pool of liquid on my tongue and sputtered as my throat obeyed. A magic potion? Julius had found a secret magical antidote for goblin poison. And it tasted good! Like… like… “Wine?” I rasped.
“I thought the fermented Pinot might have a neutralizing effect on goblin venom. The creature’s magic comes from the metal element. Its blood is effectively smothering the wind and wood in yours. Grapes are a product of wood and earth. Fermentation introduces gases to the mix. As such, it should have healing properties for you.” There was a pause, the sound of a cork popping from a bottle, and then more splashing against my skin. “Perhaps your affinity for the beverage has kept you alive tonight. Regardless, you are one lucky witch that I happened to be near when your familiar came for me. You are at death’s door. I’d venture to say a minute from the grave.”
My eyes began to work again, and I blinked them against a sea of deep red. I was back inside the liquor store. I couldn’t move my limbs, but I could see Julius. Dressed in a blue silk shirt and trousers smudged with my blood, he hovered above me, an open bottle of wine in one hand and what looked like scotch in the other. His chocolate waves curled perfectly behind his ears. As usual, he looked almost human, aside from his too-large navy-blue eyes. Vampires had some illusive abilities, but under it all they were nocturnal creatures.
“What’s the scotch for?” I croaked.
He took a deep swig from the bottle in his opposite hand, then raised it as if to toast me. “The scotch is for steadying my nerves. Goblins are nothing to mess with, Grateful. You should know better.”
As if I’d done it on purpose. “Help me,” I sputtered.
He dumped more wine over my shivering limbs. “What do you think I’m doing? Although, I am sorry I can’t do more. I’ve neutralized the poison, but I fear the damage is done. Your internal organs are a bit overcooked even for the magic of Pinot Noir.” He tossed the bottle over his shoulder where it shattered against the fallen shelf, then retrieved another bottle from a display and popped the cork.
“Poe?”
“Your familiar flew in the direction of home. I presume to retrieve your caretaker, although we both know he won’t be coming.”
“He’s fine.” I groaned in pain.
Julius knelt by my side, his superhuman speed making it appear as if he zapped in and out of existence. “Do you know why I was close enough to help you? I’ve been following you for weeks, Grateful. He hasn’t patrolled once since his run-in with Tabetha. Can he shift? Does he even remember how to drive a car?”
“You’ve been following me?” I closed my eyes, too weak to argue. He was right. Rick probably wouldn’t come, and I was hurt—bad. I could feel myself slipping under again, like I was drowning. My breath rattled and, as a nurse, I was well aware rattling was a bad sign.
“Following you, yes. I find myself drawn to you, in fact,” Julius said softly. “Despite myself. It’s an unnatural thing for a vampire to take an interest in a witch, and I am an old vampire who has seen many unnatural things.”
“I need Rick,” I whimpered.
“You are bleeding,” Julius murmured in a breathy, lover’s voice. His lips were close. The glass had shredded most of my exposed skin, and I could feel warm blood drip down my face, over my chin, and across my neck to pool in the recess between my clavicles. He fixated on that heavy, wet spot.
“Don’t do it, Julius. You won’t be able to stop. You’ll kill me. I can’t lose any more blood.”
Long, tapered fingers ran through my wine-and-blood-soaked hair. Gently. Lovingly. He lowered his face until his nose almost touched mine. “I would never hurt you, Grateful. Don’t you see how we’ve helped each other these past weeks? We are friends now, yes? Maybe more.”
In fact, Julius’s help had been a godsend in Rick’s absence. It wasn’t the first time he’d shown up when I needed him, although this time he was a little late to the party. He’d sworn to be my ally and had kept his side of the bargain. Still, I didn’t like the way he stared at my jugular.
His lips lowered to the base of my neck. The slurping made me cringe as he drank the pool of blood there, then licked along my shoulder to my ear. His tongue gripped like sandpaper, like a cat’s. I grimaced.
“Please don’t,” I whispered, bracing myself for the bite.
Although his fangs grazed my
skin, and I could hear him swallow, he did not strike. I opened my eyes to find his nose almost touching mine again, his eyes wide, pupils dilated, my blood on his lips.
“You are very near death,” he said.
“I need Rick.” My throat was dry and raw.
“There is another way.”
His nocturnal blue eyes twinkled. He raised his right wrist to his mouth and bit. “Drink my blood. It will heal you.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to be a vampire.”
“A witch cannot become a vampire, but I have read of witches drawing on a vampire’s eternal life. If the legends are true, my blood will temporarily give you qualities of a vampire. It will heal you and make you harder to kill. All you have to do is drink.”
A bubble of thick blood formed on his wrist. My head was foggy, and the room wavered like a boat at sea. I didn’t completely trust Julius, but I was dying. What would happen to Rick and our territory if I did? Did I have a choice but to try Julius’s way?
I parted my lips. His blood was thicker than human blood, and the first drop came concentrated and syrupy. I closed my eyes and waited for it to hit my tongue.
“Don’t drink that,” Polina’s voice said. I opened my eyes to see my half-sister, the redheaded witch from Smuggler’s Notch. I hadn’t seen her since the night we rescued her from her underground prison, buried under Tabetha’s magical landscaping. She’d helped me kill the evil wood witch and had earned my trust. Now, her hand hovered between my mouth and Julius’s wrist. His fangs were out, and a deep growl rumbled from his chest.
Mother May I (Knight Games Book 4) Page 2
