Spellspeaker's Prophecy

by Anna Abner

The room quieted for a long moment as her words sank in.

  Roz considered arguing, but once she weighed the options, there was no use.

  “Are you sure?” Connor asked. “If something goes wrong, there’s no turning back.”

  “That’s exactly why I can’t ask another person to test it,” Julia said. She inhaled deeply. “But I didn’t want to do it alone. If I’m infected, I need you to make sure I don’t hurt anyone.”

  “Of course,” Connor agreed immediately. “You’re safe here, no matter what happens.”

  “Okay.” The doc slung her bag onto the sofa and perched on the edge. “I’ve already injected the antibodies. I checked my levels before I left, and they’re promising. Here.” She produced a syringe of dark red blood from a cooler in her bag. “Inject me with this.”

  “And then we have six hours,” Ali reminded her. “We can hang out and play video games. Are you a gamer?”

  “No.” Julia huffed a laugh. “But I’m willing to learn.”

  “Whose blood is this?” Connor asked, finding a vein in the doc’s left arm.

  “Yours,” she said.

  Vessel found and isolated, Connor slowly injected the infected blood. After tossing the used syringe, Julia slumped into the couch.

  Obviously nervous, Ali turned on the PlayStation and babbled about good beginner titles and first-person shooters versus role-playing games. Connor splayed upon a leather recliner, a pencil in hand, and his sketchbook on his lap.

  On the half hours, the doc instructed Roz how to take her blood pressure, heart rate, and temperature. Every time she did, Julia’s vitals were slightly higher than the time before.

  “You’re just nervous,” Roz assured.

  Were they all crazy? Had they made a mistake? Maybe they should have sent Julia’s results to a real lab and let them test it their own way, no matter how long it took.

  “I’m so thirsty,” Julia complained in the middle of a puzzle-solving game. “This is absurd.”

  “I’ll get you some water,” Connor offered.

  “Do you have anything stronger?” Julia complained. “Like a shot of tequila?”

  “Uh.” His brow scrunched. “Actually, there is a bottle of vodka in the pantry.” He retrieved it and set it on the coffee table.

  “How long has it been?” Julia downed a shot and then held the squat bottle in her fist.

  Roz checked the timer on her phone. “You have ten minutes left.”

  With a frustrated groan, Julia hopped to her feet and paced, still clutching the vodka. “Can’t we just call it a success? What’s ten minutes?”

  “It matters,” Connor told her. “We have to pass the six hour mark to be safe.”

  “Sheisse. I need some air.” Julia stomped through the kitchen, whipped open the back door, and disappeared outside.

  Roz followed her to make sure the doctor didn’t make a run for it. “Feeling the pressure?” she guessed.

  “What did I do?” she shouted into the wind, hanging onto a narrow pillar. “What did I do to myself?” She spun on Roz, eyes manic. “I injected myself with vampire blood. Why would I do that? What was I thinking?”

  “Trust your research,” Roz said. “You thought it was safe, or you wouldn’t have agreed.”

  But Julia was past hearing. “I just screwed myself six ways to Sunday. I can’t be a vampire and a doctor. I won’t be able to be around people, blood, or tissue. What will I do?” She sank into a patio chair. “All I wanted was to come to America, practice medicine, and marry a nice girl. Now, I’ve fucked it all up.”

  Roz smiled a little. “You’re here,” she reminded Julia. “You’re a doctor. You should be proud of yourself. As far as the other, I’m not sure I can help.” She slanted her eyes up at the stars. “I don’t know too many people, but…”

  “I’m an idiot,” Julia groaned, dropping her head into her hands.

  Roz checked her timer. “Maybe,” she agreed, “but what you’re not is a vampire. Time’s passed. You’re not infected.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sometime before dawn, Sergei woke Maks by kicking him in the ribs.

  “Time to keep your word, traitor.”

  Maks didn’t sleep much anymore, always on guard for Sergei’s little tricks, but his master had caught him unawares and the kick hurt. Not that Maks showed so much as a flinch to the psychopath towering over him.

  He didn’t say a word or make a sound, but rose and followed Sergei downstairs and into the foyer where Damian was holding Violet by her bindings. Two other infecteds favored by the brothers loitered near the front door.

  Sergei shoved Maks, keeping him off balance. “Lead us to my brother’s killers, pet.”

  He didn’t dare glance at Violet and give Sergei any reason to hurt her worse than he already had, but he was startlingly aware of her, her scent and size. It occurred to him there might be a way to free her while on this wild goose chase. He wasn’t currently strong enough to physically overpower any of the other vampires, but perhaps he could outsmart them and give her time to run.

  “Your favored cow will be used to keep you honest,” Sergei told him. “Break your promise, and I’ll break her.”

  Maks kept his eyes averted and went where Sergei led him, ignoring Violet, his full focus on how he’d get through this ride without either Violet or Alina dying. If he led Sergei to Connor, he risked Ali’s life. If he took Sergei on a wild goose chase, he risked Violet’s.

  From the back of a stolen black SUV, Maks guided Sergei, Damian, and two other minions outside of Vegas to the overpopulated, geometric neighborhoods of Paradise, Nevada.

  Guiding them to a location Olek and Ali had actually been seemed like the best move—his only move—and he hoped it would buy him time to think of his next step.

  The house in Paradise where Olek had cut Ali’s uncle’s throat, then let his vampires violate and murder the rest of the family, was gone. The empty dirt lot where it had once stood retained some blackened scorch marks from the fire, but otherwise all evidence of the atrocities committed there had been swept away.

  Unimpressed, Sergei asked, “Where is my brother?” very calmly, but deceptively so. Maks prepared to be thrown into a block wall or stomped to death.

  “This is the last place I saw him,” he lied. “Perhaps he is nearby?”

  Sergei looked him over with absolute disgust. “If you are toying with me, pet, I will stake you to the earth and watch wild dogs feast on your genitals. Do you understand?”

  Maks believed he would do that and more. “Yes.”

  Sergei marched toward the neighbor’s house to investigate, and Maks bolted.

  He couldn’t stop to think or second-guess, he just ran north through the twisting cul-de-sacs. If he got away, he was confident Sergei wouldn’t kill Violet. Not immediately, anyway, because she could still be used to control him. He had to leave, had to get help, had to warn someone what was coming. He couldn’t handle the Four Sons on his own anymore.

  Maks sprinted into the busiest parts of town, needing to conceal himself within the ever-present crowds. The first car he saw, he slammed into the drivers’ side and tore the door completely off its hinges. The driver screamed as he flew into the pavement and rolled. Maks still had one foot out the door as he stomped on the gas. Damian’s fingertips brushed Maksim’s bare arm before the car left skid marks behind him. He drove straight out of Vegas at over one hundred miles an hour. He attracted the attention of the highway patrol, but was able to shake them. So long as no helicopters took flight overhead, he should be clear of human law enforcement.

  He’d only been to this location once before, but he found it again as if drawn there.

  #

  Having showered and changed into clean shorts and a top, Roz still suffered half a hangover Monday morning. In an effort to cure the other half, Roz took a bite of oatmeal and was about to wash it down with strong, black coffee when the gate buzzed.

  “Who the hell?” she called, but her inside
s jumped a little in anticipation of seeing Lukas again.

  Connor lumbered into the kitchen, bare-chested and the dark hair on his head sticking up. “Someone out there?”

  “Probably Sara,” Roz said, hurrying to check the video feed next to the keypad in the foyer. Please don’t be Sara, she thought.

  Lukas’ wide chest obliterated all else on the screen. Fighting a smile, Roz pressed the intercom. “Mornin’, bear boy.”

  His face appeared, his blue eyes bright. “Häxa,” he purred. “I’ve been making plans for you all night.”

  His voice was like a shot of adrenaline to her heart. Her breath picked up, along with her pulse, as her core hummed appreciatively.

  She buzzed him through the gate.

  Lukas stepped through, followed by a perky redheaded witch carrying a motorcycle helmet under one arm. Not even Sara, though, diminished Roz’s excitement at seeing Lukas again.

  The gate snapped closed behind them, and Roz had the pleasure of watching the tall shifter swagger across the yard. He’d showered and changed too. New jeans. A snug fitting blue tee. Sneakers.

  As he passed her on his way through the front door, he made no secret that he inhaled her scent. His right fingers tangled with hers for the briefest of moments. Not a hold, but a tease.

  Ducking her head to hide her flushed cheeks and goofy grin, she followed him and Sara into the house.

  “Welcome back,” Connor greeted, still looking like a sleepy seven-year-old, but now sipping his own mug of coffee. “You both have a good night?”

  “Great,” Sara piped up.

  Roz hovered near the front door, feeling Lukas’ eyes on her, twin laser beams sizzling across her flesh.

  “Let’s make a plan for today,” Connor said. “But first I need a shower.”

  “Are the vampires still in the garage?” Sara called after his retreating form.

  “Sure are.”

  Roz stepped forward to distract Sara with something—anything—when a window-rattling boom caught them all by surprise.

  At first, Roz thought a bomb had gone off in the front yard. She grabbed a rifle and ran outside right behind Connor and Lukas, both armed. Sara and Ali—emerging from the bedroom—were a little slower on the take, but they followed a few moments later toting weaponry.

  It wasn’t an explosion, not exactly.

  A white sedan with only three of four doors still attached had plowed through the security gate at full speed and come to a loud and messy stop mere yards from the front door. A pickup screamed in after it, smashing the rear end of the sedan.

  They all took cover as both vehicles skidded up onto the front porch.

  “What the fuck?” Sara exclaimed.

  But Roz was focused solely on the filthy and bleeding boy falling out of the first car. Blood flowed from his nose where he’d hit the steering wheel. He was so dirty, it took a second for her to recognize Maksim Volk, vampire lord. More like beaten down child on his last legs.

  Ali recognized him quicker and made a move to help, but Connor stalled her as two vampires limped out of the pickup and one fell upon Volk. Maks’ head made an audible smack against the hard-packed earth.

  Roz raised her rifle, but wasn’t confident she could hit the big guy and not Volk beneath him. She despised the slimy snake, but he had a history with Ali, which meant he couldn’t be killed. Not without Ali’s okay.

  The third vampire, illogically confident, turned on Roz’s line of friends and snarled.

  Connor raised his hand cannon, but the beast in Lukas could brook no threat to him or anyone he cared about. He shifted into bear form and roared. The stunned vampire spun and sprinted the way he’d come, past the crashed vehicles and the smashed gate, toward the road. Lukas chased him down the driveway at a leisurely pace. About a hundred feet down the lane, he caught up and snapped the infected in half with a single bite and a shake of his head.

  Not to be outdone, Connor approached the tussling pair of infecteds on the ground and pressed his .44 to the back of the aggressive vampire’s head. “What the hell is going on, Volk?” he demanded, keeping the final and most tenacious member of the horde in his sights.

  “Kill. Damian.” Volk coughed blood, unable to answer anything more coherent.

  The vampire holding Volk ducked Connor’s weapon—the shot landing harmlessly in the dirt—and scampered away through the twisted gate. Volk climbed unsteadily to his feet and right for Roz. She tensed as he reached for her with dirty, bloodied hands, but he didn’t touch her. He snatched the rifle from her fingers, turned, and aimed at the retreating vampire. One shot, and the infected somersaulted head first into the ground.

  Volk’s arms dropped as if weighted, the rifle slipping from his hands.

  “I don’t like fucking vampires,” Sara grumbled, sliding a step away from the group and aiming her own rifle. She fired into Volk’s back, point blank, before anyone realized what she was up to or how to stop her.

  “No,” Ali shouted.

  Gasping wetly, Volk crawled toward the vehicles, maybe hoping to get in one and escape.

  Sara followed him, rifle cocked.

  “Stop it,” Roz ordered. “He’s had enough.”

  As if she hadn’t heard her, Sara fired into Volk’s neck as he retreated. Blood spurted, and he rolled over, one hand pressed to the gaping wound in his throat. He raised a palm at Sara in surrender.

  For a second, Roz couldn’t think or move. Sara was going to kill him. Her fellow witch’s eyes blazed with bloodlust as she pulled back the hammer.

  “I said no,” Ali snapped, jumping between Volk and the barrel of Sara’s rifle. “You’re not killing him.” To her credit, her voice hardy wobbled at all. She did start to glow, though.

  “Are you insane?” Sara shouted. “I almost shot you. Move.”

  Roz rushed to Ali’s side. “Put the rifle away,” Roz told Sara. “He’s not a threat to you.”

  Ali radiated heat like an oven, but Roz trusted her friend not to pop directly beside her.

  “He’s a vampire,” Sara shouted back, her rifle still aimed at Ali. “Witches kill vampires. What do you think the Coven’s training me for?”

  “No,” Roz corrected. “We help people. That’s why he ran here with two killers chasing him. Because he needs our help.”

  “Fuck this,” Sara said. “You have no idea what you’re doing, and you deserve what’s coming.”

  What a bitch. Roz put herself directly in front of Sara. “I thought I needed your help,” she said. “But I’m a lot stronger than I gave myself credit for.”

  “You’re all insane!” Sara screamed, flinging the rifle in a wide arc. It crashed to earth at least twenty feet away. “Vampires are monsters. And you’re gonna let him get away? Then screw you—”

  Silently calling her power, Roz said, “Be quiet,” and Sara’s voice failed her in mid sentence. She struggled to speak, her hands scrabbling at her throat, but nothing came out. Not even a squeak.

  Connor gestured for Sara to move on. “You can leave now.”

  Sara gave him the dirtiest look Roz had ever seen on a girl. It was like a promise of vendettas to come.

  The witch fled out the smashed security gate, veering away from Lukas, both her middle fingers in the air.

  At a wet breath from their new guest, Ali dropped to her knees and pressed her hand to Volk’s bleeding throat. “You’re okay,” she promised. “We’re going to fix you right up.”

  He gurgled what sounded like, “Kill them.”

  “Don’t worry,” Ali assured, readjusting the pressure on his throat, “We took care of it.” Without looking up from Volk’s blood-splattered face, she shouted, “Connor, we need blood bags and the doctor.”

  “Already on it,” he called from inside the house.

  Roz looked up briefly, finding Julia standing in a state of shock in the open front door. But she was a tough lady, and she’d snap to in a second, Roz had no doubt.

  Ali smiled at Volk. “So, what’s new
with you?”

  Volk turned his head toward the sound of Ali’s voice, and his eyes slowly opened. “Help,” he rasped through pink foam on his lips. Volk’s legs spasmed, and blood bubbled from between Ali’s fingers.

  Roz had conflicted feelings about Maksim Volk. For a long time she’d believed him to be one of the most evil supernatural creatures in history. But then he’d shown up, declared himself Ali’s adopted vampire father, and protected them from Oleksander’s henchmen. So, she vowed to do everything she could—magically—to keep him alive. For Ali’s sake.

  Roz called her power and spoke healing and strength spells. But the blood loss and shock overwhelmed him, and Volk soon went limp in Ali’s arms.

  “Shit,” Ali swore, glancing up as Connor jogged over with bags of blood. “He can’t swallow it. We’ll have to set up an IV.”

  “Let me carry him. You convince the doc to get in the game.” Connor bent and gently lifted Volk into his arms. The vampire prince had gone boneless. He reminded her of a wounded child more than ever before—his chest so narrow and lean his ribs clearly showed beneath tight flesh, his arms and legs a bit gangly, his hair disheveled. He’d been through some stuff.

  The last time Roz had seen Volk, he’d been dressed in designer clothes and groomed to imitate a magazine ad. Today, he resembled an urchin straight out of a Dickens novel. She couldn’t help being curious about what had happened to the horde since Olek’s death.

  Roz chased the dying vampire into the kitchen, hissing spells and throwing invisible power tornadoes all over the room. Behind her, Ali cried quietly into her hands. Roz’s heart twanged in sympathy. Having lost her mother at birth and her father over the summer, Ali didn’t have any other living family. Maksim Volk was the closest thing to a blood relative she had left. Roz amped up her spells, needing to keep Volk alive until his accelerated healing kicked in. For Ali.

  Connor laid the vampire on the butcher-block island in the middle of the kitchen, knocking utensils and a couple pans onto the floor in doing so.

  “I’ll get the IV kit,” Connor said, grasping Ali’s wrist. “Put your hand here,” he said, pressing her palm to the center of Volk’s bare chest. “Let me know if his heart stops.” After a sympathetic look, he added, “The gunshot wounds aren’t life threatening.”