A blond man sidled up next to me as I hitched up the overnight bag I’d brought with me in case I stayed too long in… damn, in the Underworld. I’m just hanging out in the Underworld, like it’s an overnight trip to my Nana Reed’s. Ugh, what is my life now?
“What, Kane?”
“Such hostility,” he drawled.
“I get that way when people abduct me and then attempt to bite me. I’m so irrational that way,” I snarked back.
“Perhaps my past action warranted your response.”
“Perhaps?” I stopped to look at him, hoping to see some regret, shame, or basic remorse. Nothing. He held my gaze, his dark eyes narrowing, a hypnotic beat to them, pulling me to him. My eyes remained transfixed, unable to pull free from his.
“Luna.” His voice was satin smooth and demanded compliance that I gave wholeheartedly. Pulled into the depths of his eyes, I was unable to do anything but look at him and be attentive to his commands.
“Do you hear me, Luna?” he asked, his voice a gentle caress.
“Yes.”
Pleased, he gave me a small smile. “I need you to do something for me, Luna.”
“Okay,” I agreed, warming comfort wrapping around me, a contrast to the withering brush of wind just moments ago. This heat I desired to the point of necessity. Like breath. Pleasing him became a priority.
“Good,” he whispered. “I want—”
His mouth gaped open. He tore his eyes from me and looked down at his chest, where the tip of a bloodstained stake peeked out and then disappeared.
He whipped around to find Anand baring his teeth.
“That’s a bad injury. You’re going to need to feed or…” Anand let his words trail off, providing an insinuating brow. The vampire looked at me and then back at the wound.
“The stake’s made from Dracaena cinnabari, the dragon blood tree,” Anand provided with a dark sneer. Kane looked down at his hand; it was drying and turning a grayish color.
A scream caught in my throat as I shuffled back. Anand had stabbed Kane in the middle of the street. None of this was normal. None of it. Instinct had me wanting to flee from the violence.
“Luna, don’t run,” Anand ordered, his eyes still on the vampire. There was a hint of warning in his voice. As quickly as he had attacked, the vampire would be able to track and subdue me. I placed my bag in front of me as if it could be used as an adequate barrier to protect me from Anand.
“I hope I am the one to kill you,” Kane gritted out through clenched teeth.
“A fervent wish that many have made,” Anand shot back as Kane clutched his chest and darted out of sight. Anand pulled a small vial from the pocket of his jeans, opened it, sprinkled it over the stake, and whispered something. The stain lifted from the wood and dissipated into the air. Placing the stake in his back pocket, he tugged his shirt down to conceal it and started walking.
Anand then turned back to me, the hardness in his face when dealing with the vampire ebbing away. I wouldn’t allow him to get closer and kept a cautious eye on him as if he were an unpredictable predator—and I wasn’t convinced he wasn’t.
“You have no need to fear me, Luna.”
That seemed highly inaccurate, but him waiting patiently for me to move toward him offered some comfort. My migration toward him was done with hesitation. Each step slow, measured, and cautious.
“I saved your life,” he declared, sliding an assessing look in my direction. Still trying to process what happened, my mind was just a whirlwind of thoughts. “The older the vampire, the harder they are to kill. Ram a stake through the heart of a young vampire, and death comes rather quickly.” He was heading in the direction of Books and Brew, just a block away. “With older vampires, the process is slow, giving them ample time to feed and survive. For supernaturals, age has its benefits. But staking an elder vampire with Dracaena cinnabari will hasten the death process.”
“The older they are, the worse they are to deal with. Great.” Taking in the impromptu lesson in vampire slaying only cemented my theory that the supernatural world was driven by violence. It was doubtful I could ever get used to it.
“I don’t consider it worse. I enjoy the challenge.” Anand had a melodious deep voice with a hint of a rasp that I was sure was from lack of use. He struck me as a man of few words.
“And you’re an old…” I waited for him to provide his supernatural denotation. I had to navigate this world, and despite my trepidation, knowledge gave me an advantage. I was curious as to what supernaturals occupied the Underworld. I assumed the only other options were demons. Or fallen angels. Anand’s quiet beauty would easily be considered seraphic. Was he a fallen angel?
He stopped at the door, and I focused on the scar that ran along his face, fighting the urge of being all types of cringy and creepy by running my finger over it. Something that should have detracted and marred his appeal added distinct character.
“Never look a vampire in the eye, okay? That’s how they compel you. I suspect Kane was about to instruct you to hurt yourself, walk into traffic, perform a self-inflicted injury, come to him and request he feed until he is sated. A vampire is never sated.” He frowned. “If a vampire stares at you, gouge them in the eyes. If you don’t want to use your finger, keep something long and sharp with you—knitting needle, pen, whatever, and use that.”
“What!” I gawked at him. Was he trained by Helena? “Why is that option number one? What about not looking them in the eye? That’ll work too, right?”
He nodded and lifted his shoulders in a shrug of indifference. Then he headed to the counter of the coffee shop, and I went to the bookstore, acutely aware that he’d never answered my question about what he was.
I’d have another opportunity to question him. I’d requested Helena as a guard but got Anand. Although he struck me as a person who thrived on adrenaline, violence, and danger, it was still an upgrade. He’d only suggested gouging out the eye of a vampire who was trying to harm me; she wanted to murder me but had settled on just taking a finger.
The deep-seated frown brought on by thoughts of Helena relaxed when I caught sight of Cameron’s toothy smile. It was the smile she gave when she needed a favor. Based on how wide her smile was, it was going to be a big request. Hopefully it wasn’t a request for me to work later or the next day.
I wanted desperately to be done with Dominic, the supernatural world, and the lurking eyes. Where they excelled at being amoral, violent, and powerful, they totally failed at stealth. That failure was being demonstrated right now; the wolf who attacked me was perusing books in the corner of the store and obviously watching me. Another person sat at a table shooting me none-too-furtive glances. I had no idea who or what they were. The wolf shifter definitely had a look of discontent at the sight of me. Had he learned of Kane’s failure or was he acting alone and disappointed that Dominic hadn’t killed me? Who knew?
Anand walking into the bookstore had them all scrambling to get somewhere else, fast.
Cameron greeted me with an enthusiastic hi. It was times like this that Cameron reminded me of a hyperactive pup—and she evoked the same response. The smile that curved my lips widened despite knowing she needed a favor.
She finished up with the customer she was helping.
“I need a favor,” she announced. Shocker. She led me to the gaming section of the store.
“Really? I never would have guessed,” I teased.
“Reese had a family emergency and had to cancel and I was hoping Emoni could fill in. I know coffee shop music isn’t Emoni’s thing, but you know how much people enjoy our Wine-Down Thursdays.”
Cameron enjoyed them, too. Maybe it was the music or the reduced-price wine or a combination of both, but the income she lost on wine, she made up for in book sales. Buzzed book buying was more lucrative than I ever imagined.
“I’m not Emoni’s manager. Just ask her. She’s not shy about declining things when she’s not interested.”
“I know, but I’m the own
er and she might feel obligated to say yes just to appease me. I don’t want her to do that.”
“No.”
Her eyes widened.
“See, I have no problem telling you no. Do you think Emoni is any less likely to do so?” I teased. Giving her arm a gentle squeeze, I told her I’d ask and headed off to help out a woman who looked as if she was searching the store for an employee. I looked over my shoulder at Cameron. “She’s going to say yes. You’re giving her an opportunity to do two things she’ll never admit she loves: coffee house music and performing covers.”
When Emoni arrived at work a couple of hours later, I was unsettled by Anand’s presence at the counter. He was studying the pastries on display. Had he anticipated my move, heard our conversation, read our lips?
Anand and I hadn’t spoken since he gave me his disturbing advice. He’d been inconspicuous in the store. Occasionally I got a glimpse of him leaving or moving but never knew when he had returned or how he managed to get close to me. When I saw him, it felt like he was allowing it. It was as if he faded into the nonexistent shadows of the store. Disappeared. I wasn’t convinced he didn’t. Employees typically commented on people who lingered in the store, but no one seemed to notice his presence.
As I eased my way closer to the side of the counter to talk to Emoni, I was staring at Anand until she cleared her throat.
“He’s new around here,” Emoni said. “He likes his coffee black,” she whispered. Her eyes slowly traveled over him.
“You really need a more interesting kink because the no-sugar no-cream thing is weird. And not in the quirky way that people find adorable. It’s just weird.” I wasn’t fooled by what drew her interest to Anand. If he poured out half his coffee and filled it with cream and added tablespoons of sugar until he was having a little coffee with his sugar and cream, her interest wouldn’t have dwindled. Reluctantly pulling her eyes from him, she reached over the counter and nudged me playfully.
“What question from Cameron brings you to my little hub?”
“What makes you think I’m here on her behalf?” I asked.
Anand’s migration to a seat in the corner tugged at Emoni’s attention before it moved to the door that separated the coffee shop from the bookstore. Cameron had passed by, giving us a tight, overly wide smile and an odd finger wave.
“I feel like I’m Batman and she’s devising a plan to destroy me and Gotham City,” Emoni noted, waving at Cameron, who attempted to busy herself with the display, failing miserably at discreetly watching us.
“Reese cancelled this Thursday and you know how important Wine-Down Thursdays are to her.”
“And it’s great for business, too.”
“That too,” I admitted “She wants to know if you could fill in for him.”
“Of course I’ll do it. Maybe Gus will join me.”
“Maybe? You wouldn’t completely get the invitation out before he agreed. And you can stop with the eyerolls. I’m not wrong.” I wasn’t, despite Emoni wanting me to be. He loved performing as much as Emoni did, and the extra time with her would be a bonus for him.
To put Cameron out of her misery and ease the tight Joker smile, I nodded. She noticeably relaxed. We knew how important the store was to her; over the years it had its struggles and there was a period when it was at risk of closing down. With the addition of the coffee shop, events, and introduction of the wine bar, she’d saved the business. I chatted with Emoni a while longer, hoping Reginald would reply to the text I’d sent him earlier, so I could stop by his office before returning to work. He hadn’t responded.
Suspecting that he might have missed the message, I went by his office. The door was closed and I heard voices, which was probably why I hadn’t heard from him.
When I returned to the store, Anand was seated in the corner that Peter usually claimed. It earned him a glare from Peter when he arrived. Anand dismissed Peter’s overtly dirty look and passive-aggressive attempts to crowd him out as they shared the table. Peter covered the table with too many books and slouched in his chair, swallowing up the space underneath the table with his long legs. I passed the table several times, finding Peter making attempts to “history” Anand away. They were having spirited debates, and Anand’s detailed knowledge made his contributions sound like firsthand accounts. It was a slow day and I found entertainment in the simplicity of Peter’s pettiness. It was rather humanizing. He was territorial, irrational, and trivial—like us average joes. Peter finally gave up, shooting Anand a searing look before he found another spot at the back of the store.
“I feel like I should bring you a cookie or something. Give you the title of Dethroner of the King of the Round Table,” I said.
Anand was kind enough to reward my bad joke with a halfhearted smile. After Anand relinquished his claim on the table, I spent the remainder of my day playing my version of Where’s Waldo with him.
10
Reginald had free time at three thirty. I’d given up on keeping up with Anand’s whereabouts, and when he allowed himself to be discovered, I told him about the meeting, ignoring his frown of disapproval.
Although pessimistic that Reginald and his coven could help, I found some comfort in having a companion in this adventure we were unwillingly thrust into. I was pleased to be able to speak with him, even if for no other reason than to vent. How much do I tell him? Everything? Do I go full-throttle? Will he even believe me? I was living it yet several times I found myself waiting to wake from this magical realism.
Reginald’s hollow look of confusion surprised and unsettled me when I suggested he speak to his coven about what had happened with the book.
“I told you about my coven?” His brows inched together in disbelief. Leaning back in his chair, he looked even more perplexed as I recounted his visit to my apartment after the book debacle.
Concern shrouded his face at my agitation as I repeated the scenario over and over. If he’d had a panic button to press to have me escorted out, he definitely would have used it. It wasn’t agitation, it was desolation as panic rose in me. How could he not remember?
“Look at your phone. You have pictures, and I sent you a video.” I strained to keep my voice level but failed. Raw panic was in the driver’s seat. Standing, I leaned into him. Based on him going wide-eyed and rearing back, I must have looked feral. The semblance of calm and control I manufactured as I sat down was hard earned.
“Will you please look?” I asked softly.
“Okay.” His smile pensive and wary, he fumbled to get his phone from the corner of the desk while keeping a cautious eye on me. Once in his hand, he split his attention between me and the screen as he scrolled. After several minutes, it was apparent he was reluctant to tell me what I already knew. There weren’t any pictures. No video. I knew showing him the markings on my finger wouldn’t have proven anything other than I now had a tattoo to match my ring. But I had to try.
“Remember the ring? Look at it now.”
He looked at it and then at me with concerned eyes. “I told you before, I love it. I still can’t believe you found it in the alley. It’s so detailed, eclectic. Definitely handmade.”
The alley. Where Dominic told me he could manipulate memories. Was this Dominic’s handiwork or the vampire’s? Reginald was seeing the ring as it had been and not with the magic drained from it.
I rubbed my hands over my face and forced a smile when I removed them. “Not enough sleep,” I lied.
“I get it. When I don’t get enough sleep, I’m in a fugue state. Reality and dreams mesh together. Sleep’s important for a reason.” His smile was grim and his voice taut and reticent. “I once had an argument with my sister over something that happened in a dream. It felt real. Make sure you get some sleep tonight, okay?”
I nodded, fighting without success to ward off the abysmal feeling. For ten minutes we continued with our BS-fest, my trying to deescalate the situation and Reginald continuing to search for remnants of sane Luna. After we made our way through t
he tension-heavy conversation, there was a vestige of a smile fanning over his lips. Forced and fake, but considering the circumstances, it was all I was going to get.
My feet felt heavy walking toward the door and I glanced back at Reginald’s worried expression, trying to figure out how to make him remember. I gave him a little wave of reassurance.
“I’m going home to crash. I’ll be better on Thursday. Emoni is singing at the Wine-Down.”
The glint of excitement in his eyes was the lifeline I didn’t realize he needed. It was a brief moment of normality.
Who had wiped his memory? Dominic, the Conventicle, someone else? When Kane snatched me off the street, how long had they been watching me, and had I done something to implicate Reginald? I squashed any thoughts of telling Emoni; I couldn’t get her involved.
I knew I wouldn’t have to look for Anand. The moment I stepped out of the store, he found me. Emerging from nonexistent shadows again. He studied me for a long moment. If I looked as bleak as I felt, it had to be concerning to see. This was a game of survival and it appeared I was alone in it.
“Ready?”
Did it matter if I wasn’t? An unenthusiastic nod was all I could offer.
Traveling with Anand was different than with Dominic, and although it only took a few seconds, I spent that time wondering if I’d spiral into an unknown destination, a place between my world and the Underworld. Anand barely touched me. Once we were standing in front of the darkened estate that housed the Perils, he snatched his hands away from me as if he’d touched a flame. With Dominic, I knew we’d end up in the same place; with Anand, I wasn’t so sure.
In front of the gloomy house, devoid of the vitality of greenery and sunlight, I still found some comfort in knowing exactly where I was.
At our approach the doors opened, but we weren’t greeted with a fanfare of guards. The moment we breached the entrance, Anand headed in another direction. Initially I stood waiting, expecting Dominic to greet me. After several minutes, I realized he wasn’t coming. The large home was elegant and luxe but impersonal, making me feel even more alone since I no longer had Reginald in on it. Each step I made toward the spellbook room made tamping down my irritation harder. I was more determined than ever to repair the damage and sprint back to my nice, normal, magicless life.
A Touch of Brimstone (Magic of the Damned Book 1) Page 10
