The Vampire Next Door

by Ashlyn Chase

  He didn’t answer her, at least not verbally. He simply drew her to him and kissed her—tenderly. Thankfully, she responded in kind. They kissed for a good, long time.

  * * * *

  Bundled in her black cape, Gwyneth rode the bus to Salem. It was still early morning, but Sly would be fast asleep by now. She didn’t bother to say good-bye to Morgaine, either. How dare her cousin think she would let Sly down? She realized Morgaine was a lot sweeter on Sly than she was. Maybe he had picked the right cousin, after all. She’d find another guy, and then everyone would be happy. That’s what she really wanted.

  She was going not only to find out how to reseal the front door against vampires but also to ask Laurie Cabot if she’d heard about the vampire wine cure. Perhaps the high priestess knew the right ingredients. Then if she and Sly could figure out how to make the stuff, they could bottle it in the moonshine and it would keep practically forever.

  Forever… that’s what Sly was facing as a vampire. How could he stand the idea of going on without a woman’s companionship—without sex—forever? Even if he did find someone to love again, it would be awful to know that person was going to grow old and die before his very eyes. She still couldn’t imagine how he stood it, but the more she thought about it, the sorrier she felt for him. So, why didn’t he see the obvious? A little casual sex could scratch the itch without the complications of a full-blown relationship.

  Staring out the window, she watched as the bus made its way through the seaside town of Lynn, remembering the old adage she’d heard about the town: “Lynn, Lynn, city of sin, you never come out the way you went in.” She didn’t relax until Salem rolled into view.

  A mix of old and new greeted her. Many small New England towns were the same. In Salem, fishing shacks and weathered boathouses along the water vied with a small but modern college campus only a few streets over. Prettier homes that may have belonged to ship captains back in the day were just a block away from cheaper digs like three-deckers.

  Eventually, she made her way from the bus stop on foot around Pickering Wharf and found The Cat, The Crow, and The Crown, Laurie’s shop. Gwyneth’s nerves began to zing with excitement. How often does one get to visit with the most famous living witch in the whole country?

  She strolled up the few steps to the front door. It was still early; otherwise the shop would be busy. Laurie’s shop was a popular stop on Salem witch tours.

  Suddenly, the scent of roses met her nose. Roses? In November? With her hand on the doorknob, Gwyneth glanced around. Inside the window, she saw roses twining across the bottom of the display shelf. How odd that she could smell them outside! Then again, look where she was. She was in the presence of the woman who made it snow in Salem, Massachusetts, in July.

  The door opened as if of its own accord. Gwyneth realized she’d been standing there for quite some time. Perhaps the powerful witch had realized that her visitor needed a touch of encouragement.

  She slowly entered the shop. Behind the counter stood a kind-looking young man. He smiled at Gwyneth immediately.

  “Hi, there. I’m Jon. Are you Laurie’s 10 a.m. consultation?”

  “Yes, Gwyneth Wyatt.”

  At the sound of her name, a door to the far right opened. An attractive older woman with black and gray hair, and wearing a long black dress, strolled into the main shop area. “Merry meet, Gwyneth,” the woman said.

  “Are—are y’all her?”

  The woman smiled. “I’m Laurie Cabot.”

  “Should I bow or kiss your ring or anythin’?”

  Laurie stared at her a moment. Perhaps she needed to know if Gwyneth was sincere. She imagined the woman must take some ridicule from ignorant tourists.

  “I’m not bein’ a smart ass or anythin’…”

  “We’re all sovereign, Gwyneth. Please come into my sacred space.”

  Light-headed, she followed Laurie into the small room from which she had emerged. Sweet-smelling incense burned in a brass censor. Crystals decorated the table, and a witch cord hung down one wall. Gwyneth had made one and hung it in her kitchen, where she did most of her spells. Each was a nine-foot braided cord with nine knots, every one holding a symbol of the spell it represented.

  The rest of the room was just as fascinating. A portrait of a black cat hung on the back wall. Laurie’s armchair, covered in gold brocade, sat kitty-corner to the left with a hand-painted table in front of it. Whimsical Alice in Wonderland colored-ink drawings and a white rabbit statue added to the decor. Gwyneth imagined the tourists knew what Alice felt like in a place like this.

  Of all things, a pink Christmas stocking lay against the back of Laurie’s chair. Seriously? The greatest Wiccan of modern times celebrates Christmas and puts a stocking out this early? Maybe it was just a suggestion to the tourists that they could buy their Christmas gifts at the store. It sold everything from jewelry to homemade incense, spell kits, and candles.

  “Y’all must do a lot of spells.”

  “Wicca is not only a religion, it’s an art and a science. As with any art form, practice improves one’s results.”

  “Pardon me for sayin’, but I think y’all must be an expert by now.”

  Laurie smiled. “Living Wicca includes practicing our craft even after it becomes second nature. As long as we’re alive, we don’t have to stop growing.”

  Gwyneth nodded slowly. This sage woman seemed like Morgaine in some ways. Maybe she should listen to her cousin a little better in the future.

  Laurie gathered a few ingredients and laid them on the table. A black candle in the shape of a man, a package of powder labeled “Vampire Slayer,” and some iron nails.

  “Have you made a protection potion yet, Gwyneth?”

  “Yes, ma’am. That’s the first thing my cousin Morgaine taught me to make for myself. Even with all that iron powder in it, the stuff stays mixed and doesn’t settle to the bottom of the jar. That’s when I knew magic was real.”

  “Good. You’ll need to use your protection potion as you would normally to protect yourself while working with any magic and also on the door as you reseal it against the vampire. Do you know his name?”

  “No, ma’am. Even our friend who he’s after don’t know his real name, yet. We just call him Sly’s Maker for now—or Asshole.”

  Laurie nodded. “That will have to do. If in the meantime, you discover any details like his name or date of birth, etch those on this wax figure.” She handed Gwyneth the black wax doll.

  “I’ve used a doll like this in bindin’ spells. Is that the spell what y’all recommend for a vampire?”

  “That and more. Like these iron nails for your entrance. You can’t overuse protection magick when it comes to vampires.”

  Gwyneth shifted uncomfortably. “Now, that brings up an itty-bitty problem.”

  Laurie cocked her head, listening.

  “Our friend Sly—the one we’re protecting… He’s a vampire too.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “But he’s a good un’.”

  “Then it’ll be doubly important to specify on the wax figure exactly who you mean to bind.”

  “I understand. ’Cause if we just said, ‘Bind the vampire,’ the powers-that-be could get the wrong one.”

  “Exactly. It seems as if you’ve learned to word your spells well. Have you ever had one backfire when you worded it incorrectly?”

  Gwyneth tried not to laugh remembering some of her early blunders. “Yes, indeedy. I don’t know if y’all can tell, but I’m from the South.”

  Laurie smiled and nodded.

  “Well, we sometimes have colorful ways of puttin’ things. It’s just how we talk, but there was this once I was really mad and I called my ex-boyfriend a flea-bitten dog.”

  “Oh, dear. Let me guess… you witnessed him scratching his skin raw?”

  Gwyneth couldn’t hold it back any longer. She burst out laughing. “How did y’all know? He even took a flea bath!”

  “I teach my students to avoid using m
agick in anger. Careless words can easily backfire on the witch.”

  “Yeah, I think that happened—even with all my self-protection stuff. I couldn’t get the smell of wet dog out of my nose for a solid week.”

  Laurie covered her mouth as if trying to hide a smile. Eventually, she cleared her throat and refocused the conversation. “Could your friend Sly be mistaken for someone called ‘Maker’ by anyone who doesn’t know him?”

  “He never made another vampire. I’m not sure if makin’ other stuff counts. I know he made a daughter before he was turned.”

  “Better be specific and only refer to the wax figure as ‘the vampire Sly’s vampire maker’ until you find out his real name. If your friend is also barred from the residence, you’ll know it wasn’t enough of a differentiation.”

  “And what would we do in that case?”

  Laurie shrugged. “Simply invite him in again.”

  “Oh.” Gwyneth hit her head with the heel of her hand. “Duh.”

  Chapter 7

  “This better work,” Morgaine muttered.

  Gwyneth, who had been kneeling by the front door, rose and placed a hand on her hip. “Or what?”

  “Or Sly will probably be afraid to leave his apartment.”

  Gwyneth huffed and returned to her work. She had made the ointment according to Laurie’s directions and was now filling the cracks around the door with it like caulk. “Cain’t one vampire settle things with another vampire in a fair fight?”

  “Something tells me Sly would be the only one fighting fair. Besides, he was made twenty-six years ago and is considered a child in the vampire world.”

  In some ways, Gwyneth struck Morgaine as a child in the witches’ world. Since Gwyneth was five years younger and hadn’t been practicing Wicca seriously until she moved to Boston, Morgaine had felt it her responsibility to help her cousin catch up.

  “How old is his maker?”

  “I have no idea, but Sly seems to think he’s ancient. I think some vampires lose their humanity over time, and this one seems to have none left.”

  “I wish I was as psychic as y’all, Morgaine. I shoulda known he was evil while I was speakin’ to him—even over the intercom.”

  “It’s the same principle for witches. The longer we practice, the more psychic we become. I think everyone is psychic to an extent, but some try to develop it and some don’t. You just haven’t been at it as long as I have.”

  “Yeah, I wasted a few too many years trying to get dear, drunk Dwayne off his inebriated ass. Thank the Goddess I didn’t marry him.”

  “I don’t think anything is wasted, Gwyneth. You did your best to help him, but some people are determined to self-destruct. You can feel good about your role in that relationship. You did everything you could. It was time to walk away.”

  Morgaine thought about how she might take her own advice. She had taught Gwyneth as much as she could for as long as the younger witch was willing to learn. But when the willingness had stopped, so had the learning.

  “Yeah, an’ I thought I was helpin’ Dwayne for a while.”

  “When did you know it was hopeless?”

  Gwyneth finished spreading the ointment around the door and wiped her right hand on a towel. “Long about the time he came home drunk with another drunk woman and told me to shove over so he’d have room to fuck her right next to me. Said he was tired of sneakin’ around.”

  Morgaine shook her head. “You don’t deserve that, Gwyneth. You deserve someone who loves you so much he wouldn’t want to be with anyone else.”

  “I know that—now. Do y’all think Sly feels that way about you?”

  Morgaine shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s too soon to tell.” If not now, maybe in time.

  “Well, let’s knock on his door and get him to help us with that still. There’s no way I can open that heavy secret door all by myself.”

  * * * *

  “Are you sure this is what you want to do?” Morgaine asked. It was a new-moon night, and the candle she held made only a dent in the darkness as it flickered in the drafty basement air.

  Sly barely heard her as he concentrated on the still Gwyneth was putting together. With the false wall opened up and the windows cracked, everything seemed safe enough… as long as no one called the health department. Sly pulled a large spider web out of the way and wiped his hand on a rag they’d brought down to catch spills.

  “I haven’t come up with any better ideas yet,” he said absently. “Have you?”

  Morgaine let out a long sigh. “No.”

  Gwyneth stuck out her hand. “Sly, honey, hand me that wrench, please.”

  Sly picked up the tool from the floor and gave it to Gwyneth. “Are you sure I can’t do more to help?”

  “We’re almost done, sugar.” She tightened the last of the bolts. “Speakin’ of sugar, is everything set as far as the mash is concerned?”

  “I followed your directions to the letter.” He reached down and helped her up. “Has it fermented long enough?”

  Her long black skirt was covered with dirt, dust, and who knew what else. She brushed it off and blew a few strands of dusty red hair out of her face. “Yep. Like I said, this recipe is quick.”

  Morgaine stepped back with one hand on her hip. “Now what?”

  “Now we take this still for a spin,” Gwyneth said excitedly. “Let’s go upstairs and get the mash Sly made up. My mouth’s already waterin’ for some good ol’ home brew. This is the smoothest whiskey you’ll ever taste.”

  “Don’t forget we’re trying to adapt the vampire wine cure we’ve heard about,” Morgaine reminded her.

  “But Laurie had never heard o’ that.”

  Sly smiled at Morgaine. He hoped she wasn’t jealous of her younger cousin anymore. He’d spent a lot of time with Morgaine and had done his best to put those fears to rest.

  “Of course I haven’t forgot. Have y’all discovered what the secret ingredient is?”

  “Um, no. Not yet.”

  Gwyneth elbowed Morgaine out of the way and headed toward the stairs. “Then don’t go givin’ me no warnin’s.”

  “I wasn’t giving you a warning. I was giving you a reminder.”

  “Y’all was naggin’ like a preacher gettin’ the town drunk to church.”

  “Ladies,” Sly interrupted. “Let’s keep our eyes on the prize. First a drinkable batch of whiskey and possibly later a cure for vampirism.”

  Morgaine sighed. “You’re right. I’m getting ahead of myself.”

  As the three of them traipsed up the stairs to Sly’s apartment, Gwyneth whispered, “Can y’all see any of the sludge I painted around the front door? The last thing I want is for someone to come along and wash it off before it sets.”

  Morgaine said, “I’ll take a closer look, but I thought you did a good job with it this afternoon.”

  Sly glanced at the door frame, which appeared to glow faintly around the edges. “Can either of you see that? It’s glowing.”

  “I can’t see anything. It seems to have dried clear. We need to test it though,” Morgaine said.

  “Oh, that’s right. I plumb forgot. Sly?”

  “Uh-oh. What do I need to do?”

  Gwyneth smiled. “Nothin’ much. Just mosey on outside and see if y’all can get back in.”

  Something sounded suspicious. “What do you expect will happen?”

  “Oh, probably nothin’. We just need to be here in case y’all need to be invited back in again.”

  “Are you saying you might have sealed me out of my own building?”

  Gwyneth shrugged.

  Morgaine blew out the candle and said, “We don’t know the vampire’s name, so Gwyneth decided to seal it against all vampires who don’t live here. But sometimes the powers-that-be can be very literal. And since you’re not alive…”

  Sly finished her thought in his head. “Got it. So what happens if I can’t get back in?”

  “We just invite y’all in again.”

  “
Are you sure nothing else will happen? I mean, I won’t burst into flames if I try to walk through your barrier or anything?”

  “Heavens no!” Gwyneth chuckled. “We’re not firebugs.”

  “But you said you bought something called Vampire Slayer powder.”

  “I didn’t use that on the door, silly. Y’all have to come and go. I’m saving that for your maker, if and when we can find him.”

  “I thought you already found him.”

  “We think so, but one of us,” she glared at Morgaine, “has to go and look at the place in person.”

  “We agreed I’d astral project and Gwyneth would walk over there during the day. We can corroborate what we find later.”

  “So, are y’all gonna get over the willies or what, Sly? Go outside and come back in again. Morgaine, I’ll deal with you tomorrow.”

  “Deal with me?” Morgaine’s eyes grew a little larger, and Sly figured it was time to distract them quickly.

  “Okay, here I go.” He yanked open the door and stepped outside, letting the door shut. Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out his key, and unlocked the door. “So far, so good.”

  Sly took a giant step and slammed into an invisible barrier. “Ouch!”

  Both women covered their mouths.

  “Oops,” Gwyneth said. “Sorry ’bout that.”

  “Well at least we know it works,” Sly muttered.

  “Please come in, Sly.” Morgaine stretched out her hand.

  He grasped it and slowly stepped into the building with no more trouble than a human would have. “Whew.”

  “I did it, Morgaine!” Gwyneth was so pleased with herself that she hugged her cousin. And Sly could tell that Morgaine was genuinely thrilled.

  “Yes, you did. Did you have any doubts?”

  “A little one, maybe. I was sure he wouldn’t catch afire, but I was a bit worried he’d maybe get singed.”

  “Now you tell me? Forget it, I’m fine, and you’ve redeemed yourself,” Sly said. Gwyneth’s face fell, and he was immediately sorry he’d put it that way. He’d have to remember how powerful these women were—and that one of them had something called Vampire Slayer powder!

  * * * *

  The next morning, Morgaine crossed the hall to Gwyneth’s apartment. Before she knocked on the door, she said a small incantation. It was more of a prayer to the Goddess for help and direction. Then she knocked and waited.