by Mila Young
We lay there, tangled together, and our time together was the reprieve from what was coming.
"I'm going to leave a mark that stays on you," I noted, leaning in to kiss where the last of the marks was slowly turning back to his regular skin color, letting my tongue lightly run over his nipple as well.
"I think you will," he whispered hoarsely, leaning down to place a soft, tender kiss to the top of my head. "You know, when we break this bed, I'm going to be the one that has to fix it."
I laughed. "Yeah, I was actually thinking the exact same thing. We'll get there eventually."
His smile disappeared, and he looked away.
In that moment, I knew what was going through his mind.
"We might not have the time," he said, running his long, callused fingers through the hair that I'd put so much effort into messing up. "Assuming that we survive the night... well, the wine will be ready soon, and the vampires will have to accept late payment. I can’t lose you."
I let the smile slip away from my lips as well as I looked into his eyes, still glowing a little red. "I don't know what to say, Rog. It's... I don’t even know when the hellhounds are coming for me. What if late delivery doesn’t work?"
He propped himself up on an elbow. "Don’t think like that."
I sighed. How could I not when that was on my mind constantly. "You want to know something. Thing is, as much as I hate you for tricking me into staying, I've started to... well, I maybe, might have, in a way that isn't my fault, started to... feel something for you as well."
"Something... other than complete disgust?"
"Sure. It's not something that I feel often, but I know when it's real, and this is... real."
I'd never been great at expressing my feelings like this, and it looked like he was about as confused as I was. I rolled over onto my back, staring up at the ceiling.
"Not that it matters anyways," I whispered. "We've got killer vampires and hellhounds coming to turn our collective insides into chew toys. It might sound weird but... I'm good with that. I've never been afraid of dying. More curious. Not to the point that I'd ever try to do it to myself, mind you, but if it's going out with the likes of you, Bram and Dracul... I can live with that. Metaphorically speaking."
I felt him move over the bed toward me, leaning in to press his lips to my cheek. "Don't talk like that. Do not even consider it. You're stronger than you know. Why else would vampires be so desperate to tie you to this place and kill you?"
"Technically, you were the one that tied me to this place."
"Yes, but they could have released you the moment that you came. They have for the other witches that found themselves entangled here. They would never risk bringing the wrath of your kind down on their little sanctuary. But you... do make them risk their safety for some reason."
"Lucky me," I growled, pushing myself to sit up on the bed, looking around for where my clothes had ended up. "I have all kinds of faith in what I can do. Not so much my ability to call on those abilities when I need them most, but still. Again, I'm going to fight like my life depends on it, but... I've made my peace, as it were."
"Don't," he growled, climbing out of the bed himself, handing me the shirt that he'd tossed aside in the heat of the moment. "Make war. There is no honor in death." He smirked, and we both turned when we heard the sound of Dracul howling at something outside.
I shuddered. "D-does t-that mean..." I started to ask.
"Yes and no. He's been making a racket all this time. I'll see if they are actually approaching. You should rest some. Even witches need their sleep."
"But demons don't?"
He shrugged. "I guess not."
Chapter 17
It was a dream. Nothing else it could be. So many times, I found myself in the old barn that we lived in for three years, in the cold and the rain, Mom using spells to keep us warm and dry through the worst of it. Still a miserable life, and not the kind that I ever wanted a repeat of.
The smell of old and new manure, decaying hay and feed all brought me back into it, curled up in a scratchy blanket, trying to replicate the warming spells that my mom had been performing to keep us warm while she was talking to the farmer about us staying for another few weeks.
"Crops aren't going to be in for another month," the man was saying. I'd heard it so often in my dreams that I could repeat everything he said, word for word. "You'll need to be gone soon anyhow. Can't keep feeding the two of you off the sweat of my brow."
"You mean the sweat of your illegal immigrant workers' brows?" my mom countered.
"I don't need to take this. Way I see it, I'm doing the two of you a favor. I'm retracting that favor now that my wife's coming back from her mother's. She won't be happy to see the two of you here."
"Just another week. I have another place lined up."
"Not. Going. To happen."
He stomped off, leaving my mom there. I moved toward the edge of the old barn, looking through the cracks in the walls to see my mother standing in the moonlight, shaking her head, saying something that I couldn't hear or understand. Didn't need to, really. I'd heard her say it plenty of times when she thought I was asleep.
She moved over to the fields, and I remembered just how it went. She whispered a few more words that I couldn't understand, holding her hands up over the fields, power crackling from her fingers as she reached out over the entire crop, tens of thousands of acres of corn just a few weeks away from being ready to harvest.
I could see the stalks starting to wither, going out like a wave, falling over themselves in a hushed rustle, coming down to the ground in an unstoppable wave, spreading out over the rest of the crop.
She turned away, running toward the barn and pulling the door open, starting to collect our meagre belongings.
"We need to go now," she called, stuffing her clothes into her old silver suitcase.
"Why?" I asked, still doing as I was told at the age of seven.
"Because we're not welcome here."
I snapped up from the bed, sucking in deep breaths, feeling the cool wind coming across my hair, pushing it back for me as I looked out of the window, narrowing my eyes.
"Mom knew a spell that could kill whole crops at a time," I whispered, standing up from the bed, pulling my pants and boots on before making my way to the door.
As ideas went, it wasn't anything that I would try unless I was truly desperate. Cretu would probably find a way to make her glares lethal if she found out that I was trying magic on the vines, but if there were hellhounds coming for us, it was time to break out all the tricks, even the ones that I wasn't sure I could perform.
Just like everything else in the world, destruction was so much easier than growing and bringing things to life, but the concept was sound. Mother killed the plants by suddenly draining them of all their resources, sending them back into the ground. It would have left the ground rich and ready to grow another crop, but the farmer would still find himself set back for years of debt because of the single failed crop.
"Mom always was a little too vindictive," I whispered to myself, moving out of the house, looking out into the sky, trying to make out what time it was. There was a hint of pink in the distance. "She had a very personal way of burning bridges, making sure we could never go back to certain places. Not your best move, Mom, but at least I learned a little something from it."
Dracul was still barking, and both Rog and Bram were standing close, watching and speaking quietly. I had a little time, since it didn't look like they were in any way as terrified as I would be of something called a hellhound.
I moved out into the vineyard, looking across the vines that were growing at a miraculous rate, tilting my head and taking a deep breath as I tried to figure out where to start.
The roots. I would be pouring the resources of the soil into them. Giving them all they needed to grow. There would be the matter of opening up the plants themselves, letting them take the nutrients in to the point of bursting, letting the ex
cess flow out into as many grape clusters as possible.
"Simple, right?" I whispered to myself, holding my hands out, gathering the power in the air around me, sucking in a deep breath and slowly letting it out, reaching out for the plants all around me.
I winced, feeling a nearby hoe jump and crash into my shin.
"Son of a car-fucking bitch-wad," I hissed, looking down at my shin. A nasty bruise, but no cut, thankfully. Still, a terrible spot to accidentally injure myself. I was going to be limping around for at least a couple of hours.
No time. I closed my eyes again, reaching out into the air again, sucking in deep breaths.
It was no good. I was still distracted, angry about my shin. I heard something wooden splintering.
"Shit." I opened my eyes, seeing one of the posts had been ripped into, barely being held in place by the vine growing around it. "No, no, no, no, stay right there."
Quick work to gather some soil and infuse it, letting it seep into the cracks of the post, cementing it back in place.
"Sorry," I whispered to the vine, running my fingers over the leaves. "I'm trying to help, I promise. Don't mean any of you any harm."
I had no idea if talking to the plants would do any good, but on the off-chance that Cretu actually could communicate with them, I didn't want any bad stories seeping out about me to the dryad, who would probably crush me with roots for mistreating her babies.
Another deep breath, forcing myself into calm, but this time I found myself sinking to my knees, placing my hands on the earth. It was loamy, made out precisely the way that grapevines liked it, and reaching out this time had my mind slipping under the ground, in with the roots, connecting with the plants—hundreds of them.
Simple beings, but all connected, thinking together, acting like a nervous system with no center, all working together to keep themselves alive and prospering. Weird to feel, but easy to connect with as I opened them up to the nutrients being pulled up from the ground.
It grew easier and easier with every second that ticked by. Each plant grew more and more receptive to the new influence, making it so that all I had to do was draw the nutrients from deep inside the earth, farther down than their roots could go, feeding them, driving them to grow.
Warning.
Something was wrong. Danger.
The concepts were sent to me by the vines all around, and I opened my eyes, snapping the connection and falling back onto the ground, wiping the sweat that had collected on my forehead.
The vines had grown dense, almost making up a forest around me, with thick, luscious purple grapes hanging from hundreds, thousands of clusters.
More than ready to be harvested.
But then what was wrong?
I looked around to where Dracul was still barking, shaking and driving himself around Bram's legs to take his attention. The two looked more tense, more alert, trying to find the source of the danger as the sky was just starting to show a little more light on the eastern horizon.
The hellhounds had arrived.
"Crap," I whispered, patting one of the vines before pushing myself up to my feet.
It still felt crazy to be talking to plants, despite what I'd learned about them tonight.
Chapter 18
Rog and Bram were both standing their ground, speaking quickly in Romanian.
"Do you guys sense something?" I asked.
Both jumped. Only Dracul didn't seem surprised that I'd arrived, although he stopped barking to look up at me.
"How long have you been out here?" Rog asked.
I wasn't going to lie: It was nice that I was finally the one to get the jump on him.
"I've been out here for hours," I answered, motioning out to the vineyard. "Or have you guys missed the fact that our vineyard is about full to bursting with grapes ready to be harvested?"
They looked out to where I was pointing, slowly being illuminated by the sky turning from gray to pink.
"How did you do that?" Bram asked. "You grew those vines by more than a year. In a few hours.”
The fact that I really wanted to brag about how I'd figured it out through a recurring nightmare of my childhood wasn't going to take precedence over the fact that we were still in danger.
"It's... not important. What's up about the... the..."
I almost didn't want to finish my sentence, looking out onto the road, seeing shadows flittering across it, almost like they were avoiding the light that was starting to grow in the distance. It begged the question of why they had held off on attacking until now, but watching them move reminded me of Rog in his true form.
Demons. Hounds from the depths of hell. I had to imagine that they were better than the humans that went down there, but still dangerous enough to have us all on alert.
Dracul looked terrified again, but standing his ground, like he knew that he had to defend the group but would not stand much of a chance of surviving.
"Don't worry, big guy," I whispered, patting him on the neck. "We've got this."
"Do not give the poor dog false hope," said a voice that I was getting a little too familiar with.
We turned to see the vampire there again, standing, looking out toward the sun, likely trying to determine how much time she had until it started rising. It wouldn't kill her, but it would weaken her to the point of putting her in danger while we wanted her dead.
"I'm not," I answered, taking a step forward. Just seeing her was enough to send a surge of fresh energy into my depleted reserves. Not quite what it would have been if I was a regular practitioner, but certainly not something to be scoffed at either.
"If you say so." The vampire cocked an eyebrow and smirked. "It is brave of you to stand your ground. Most run when they discover that our hounds have their scent. Not that it does much difference, but fear is such an... odd feeling, is it not?"
"The grapes are ready to be harvested," I said. "We just need a few weeks to get them ready for you. It doesn't have to come to violence. You'll get what you want."
"We'll have what we want regardless," the vampire snapped. "Your blood is the true treasure, of course, whether it is in the casks or sucked from the vein. A demon witch's blood is the sweetest."
"Okay, hold the fucking phone," I growled. "Why did you call me that? Demon witch?"
The vampire studied me for a few seconds. "She is unaware. Interesting. Inconsequential; she is dead already."
It sounded like she was having a conversation with the other three vampires, and sure enough, our attention needed to be turned on the shadows that were approaching the vineyard.
The vampire was already gone anyway, disappearing as sunlight started illuminating the landscape.
As the light touched on the shadows approaching us, it was like a fog was being cut into, revealing what was traveling inside. A pack of creatures, although I would have hesitated at calling them hounds. The elongated snouts and barred fangs did make me think of some sort of canine, but all twelve of them, each standing at seven feet tall or more, were standing on their hind legs, looking a lot more like werewolves in fiction, with long fingers looking almost human, but with massive, razor-sharp claws jutting out.
"Oh... fuck me," I whispered, narrowing my eyes, watching the creatures starting to approach us as one. The light did appear to weaken them, or at least forced them to move out in the open, without their shadows for cover. Still, there were twelve of them against the four of us.
"Been a long time since I've seen them," Bram whispered, kicking his boots off and dancing from side to side, showing a lot more alacrity than I would have thought someone of his age would have. There were no horns, making me wonder just how he intended to fight back.
Still, having him and Dracul in the fight did make me feel a little better.
"Don't let them flank you," Rog warned, taking a step back, watching the pack spreading out in front of us, making it difficult to think that there was anything that we would be able to do to contain them.
"Have you fought
hellhounds before?" I asked Bram.
"No. But I've seen them fight. Not pretty. Lots of blood, guts, screaming. Best to do as Rog says."
I nodded, looking over to the demon, seeing his pupils glowing a bright red, sharply contrasting the blackness of his eyes. His lips peeled back, showing fangs in a sickening grin as he took a step forward, watching the hellhounds circle away from him.
It went well with what little I knew about canines hunting. Attacking from the front would get them killed. The whole pack would feed so long as they patiently dragged the fight out, making it last and sapping their prey's strength.
"Fuck that," I breathed, letting the power in my body run into my fingers, feeling it crackle and jump. An uncomfortable feeling, holding that much power that close to the surface, knowing that it could lash out without control, even catching my own friends in any blast that I unleashed.
Control had always been my problem, and I gritted my teeth, trying to keep a lid on it, waiting for Rog to make his move.
The demon waited, watching as the hounds circled us, trying to push us into a defensive position, but Rog refused to budge, holding his spot, and we stayed with him.
Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, he was rushing forward.
"Way to keep us in the loop!" I shouted, taking a step forward and breathing out, not realizing that I had been holding my breath as an arc of energy jumped from my fingertips, cracking loudly enough to leave my ears ringing, striking at the hound in front of Rog a moment before he attacked.
The chain attack caught the rest of the beasts by surprise, pushing them back, but Rog was already on them, fangs flashing out to catch the closest one by the throat, opening it up in a single bite.
Black blood filled the air with the stench of rotting eggs, sizzling on contact with the ground.
The battle started, and Rog was already turning to attack the next. The other hounds were already recovering from my blast, turning their attention on the demon in front of them.
