Random Acts of Sorcery (The Familiar Series Book 3)

by Karen Mead

  After about ten minutes, the man returned holding a bunch of manila folders. He handed them to Liam.

  “Thank you. Now return to your desk and have no memory of me, or retrieving these charts.” The man walked away.

  As Liam began rifling through the folders, Dmitri blocked the sight of him with his body so no one would see that he was holding patients’ charts. “Well, we can’t talk to the one with the wrecked throat. There’s also one in intensive care with a hole in his skull.”

  “That was the Princess,” said Dmitri. That was his nickname for Aeka.

  “There’s one upstairs who just has a sprained ankle and a mild concussion,” Liam continued. “That’s probably the one I took down at the club. He’s our best bet.”

  “Or it could be the one I handled at the boy’s house,” said Dmitri, as the two of them made their way to the elevators. “I was careful.”

  “I’ve seen you be careful,” Liam said without much emotion. Dmitri looked mock-offended.

  “I swear! I was gentle with him!” he cried, his Russian accent making a rare appearance. They had both mostly lost their original accents in the intervening decades, but Dmitri was inclined to let his slip out when he was tired or emotional.

  “Well, let’s just see who was the real gentleman,” said Liam, as the elevator doors closed in front of him.

  Unfortunately, when they got to the hospital room marked on the chart, Liam didn’t recognize the man in the bed. He was ready for Dmitri to start gloating, but apparently, Dmitri didn’t recognize him either.

  “Ah, it’s the one Miri got,” Dmitri said, disappointed.

  The man’s eyes widened when he saw them, but Dmitri was on top of him with his hand covering his mouth before he could make a sound. Fortunately, the other patient in the room was sound asleep. “Don’t scream. It would not help you, but it would be annoying. Do not annoy us, and we will not hurt you any further.” He slowly took his hand off the man’s mouth.

  The man spat. “Walking corpses,” he gasped. “All those who serve the Dark will burn in eternal blue fire.”

  “Maybe someday,” said Liam, then switched into his hypnosis voice. “Why did you come to this city?”

  “To rid the world of Demonspawn scum,” the man spat.

  Liam and Dmitri exchanged glances; this was going to be a chore. “But why did you come here specifically? There are other demons, other entourages you could have targeted.”

  The response was slower this time. “She gave us the information. Said that if we killed the most evil of the demons and his servants, we would be showered in the light of the Lord.”

  “Who is ‘she’?” asked Dmitri.

  “The Seraph,” he said.

  “Who is this Seraph?”

  “I don’t know,” said the man, and then he cackled. “She’s too smart for you, didn’t tell us anything you could use against her. She’ll burn you all in the end.”

  Liam sighed; he had been afraid of this. If the mastermind of the attack had been smart enough to leave her minions ignorant, their options were limited; no amount of compulsion could make someone reveal information they didn’t have.

  “You are a human. How did you learn of demons and vampires?” Dmitri said, redirecting. Even under hypnosis, the man seemed unsettled by the question.

  “The vampires, they used us. They said they would make us one of ‘em, never did. Just drank and drank and drank and drank.” His eyes were unfocused, and seemed to be looking off in two different directions.

  Liam and Dmitri exchanged another somber glance. This was awful. One of Eugene’s cardinal rules regarding blood donors was to never, ever grant their request to turn them, unless they both had suitable temperament and an incurable, terminal disease. Those who asked for it when they were healthy were mentally ill, but that didn’t stop many vampires from stringing their fragile pets along, always promising to turn them after the next feeding and never delivering.

  It was the kind of thing that infuriated Eugene, the kind of practice that brought shame upon their entire race. Not all vampires were evil, but the actions of so many were so heinous that the distinction was often rendered irrelevant.

  “The vampires you served abandoned you?”

  “Yes.”

  Liam considered his next question carefully.

  “What did you do, when the vampires abandoned you?”

  “I thought I was unworthy,” said the man. His voice was erratic, going up and down in volume in unpredictable places. The patient in the next bed started to stir, but Dmitri walked over to the other bed and put him back to sleep as the man continued. “I thought I didn’t deserve the gift of eternal life. I was cursed, unclean.”

  “Then the Seraph came, and I learned that I had been in thrall to the Dark. It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t my fault,” he repeated. “She showed me that it was not I that was unworthy, but that the Dark lies. That I would never be safe until the Dark was destroyed.”

  “Where did the Seraph come from?” Liam asked.

  No answer. He didn’t know.

  “How did she find you?”

  “She didn’t find me; it was I who found salvation,” the deranged man said with reverence.

  “But where did she find you, physically?”

  No answer.

  “Where were you when she found you?”

  “In the Dark. So deep in the dark I could not see,” he wheezed.

  “Who was the real target of the attacks? The demon, or his servants?” tried Dmitri.

  “All will die. All who serve the Dark must die.”

  Liam let out a frustrated breath. “This is no good. He’s too far gone.”

  “Wait one moment,” said Dmitri, holding up a finger. He addressed the bed-ridden terrorist.

  “You do not know who this Seraph is; tell us who you think she is.”

  At that, the man’s face broke out into a smile. With his broken teeth and unfocused eyes, the effect of the smile was somewhat distorted, but still; he seemed enraptured, so full of love.

  “An angel.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Sam found Cassie sitting on the window seat, wearing a loose white dress that looked like a relic from the fifties. It probably was; lord only knew where all those strange clothes in Eugene’s walk-in closet had come from. Why the ancient vampire had a collection of odd clothes, for women as well as men, Sam wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Still, he thought the dress suited her.

  She was sitting sideways on the seat, her shoeless feet on the cushions as she looked out the window. She turned her head when he approached. “I thought you were going to go to the hospital.”

  He shook his head. “The Buckleys have been doing this sort of thing for a long time. I was tempted to go, but I’d probably just get in the way.”

  He sat down on the other side of the window seat. He could hear a dull roar from down the hall; the rest of the entourage was busy watching some action movie with lots of explosions. Even Nyesha had agreed to it, though Sam was sure she was just making ironic comments through the entire thing.

  If I want to confront her alone, this is probably the best chance I’m going to get, Sam thought. Still, he didn’t know how to broach the subject of his father; didn’t know how to even approach the topic without making it sound like an accusation, and making her defensive.

  Before he could gather his thoughts, she surprised him by starting a different conversation. “You know, I was supposed to talk to you about…about what happened on Saturday night,” she said, flushing ever so slightly. “But then things got so crazy, it never seemed like the right time….”

  “You don’t have to,” he said, trying to sound casual. “Miri already gave me the gist of it. It was my fault for pushing you too fast,” he said, then realized how true that was. He had tried to be so gentle and patient, but it didn’t matter; she hadn’t been ready. Any fool could have seen it. That fact that he’d never been overtly forceful didn’t mean she wasn’t being for
ced by the situation.

  She frowned, looking outside at the setting sun. “Will they hold it against you at the hearing that I’m not a witch yet?”

  “Probably,” he said. Why lie? “It’s all about what they think I can do for them, and if I’m not giving them the witch they need on schedule, that looks bad for me.”

  “Oh,” she said quietly. “You know…we still have time.”

  He flicked his head around to look at her, surprised. She was looking down at her knees.

  “There’s tonight…and Friday night….”

  “No,” he said. I won’t have her look at me that way again, with fear and disgust and wanting to be anywhere else in the world. I won’t, no matter what. “You don’t owe me anything, certainly not that.”

  “Yeah, but…” she started, hugging her shoulders. “It’s not like it’s going to be good for me if they send you away to Realm forever, you know? They’ll just give me to some other demon who doesn’t care about me.”

  The truth of that hurt. I can’t even try to do the right thing without making her life worse somehow.

  “I thought you were the one who said that the court was never going to send me away,” he said, remembering a conversation they’d had not long ago. “You said you thought that they were just doing this to scare me, to try to put me in my place.”

  She hugged herself tighter. “Maybe. But…I’m scared. It was easy to say that when we still had some time.”

  He shifted in his seat, so that his bare feet were on the window seat also. Their toes were nearly touching. “I know. It’s scary to think that they could just uproot your entire life, take you away from your family.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I mean, that too, but I’m afraid of them taking you away,” she said quietly.

  Time seemed to stop for a moment after she had spoken, and Sam knew it wasn’t his magic that had done it, but her words. She can’t mean that. I’ve been nothing but trouble for her.

  “What do you mean?” he said, trying to sound calmer than he felt.

  She sighed. “I know we don’t get along a lot of the time, and I get mad at you for a lot of things, but…at least you try to do the right thing. And whatever horrible monster comes after me, I know you can stand up to it, because you’re the strongest. The thought of you not being around….” She trailed off.

  “I’m sure whatever demon they reassigned you to would be suitably powerful to protect you,” Sam said crisply.

  She furrowed her brow. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

  “You never seem to say what you mean, so how can I know it?” he snapped back. He wasn’t sure what to think; did she really care for him? Or was it just that she’d rather be bound to a demon with some semblance of a moral compass than one without one?

  Of course, he knew she cared for him somewhat; two people couldn’t go through the kind of life-or-death experiences that they had together and not develop some kind of bond. But whether she felt anything beyond that—beyond gratitude to him for saving her life a few times, with a possible side of Stockholm Syndrome—that’s what had always been unclear. He didn’t want to be loved out of desperation, if one could even call that love.

  “I’m saying I’d miss you, okay?” she said, finally. “I’d be really sad if they banished you. I’d miss how you smile when you’re not mad at me.”

  “Oh,” he said sheepishly. I didn’t think she would say something like that straight out, but she’s brave; sometimes, I forget how brave. “I’d miss you too.”

  They sat in companionable silence for a moment, just watching the sun dip lower and lower in the sky.

  “Hey,” she said finally. “Maybe this is a weird thing to ask.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Would you hold me, just for a few minutes?”

  He turned to face her again, eyes wide.

  She was blushing, her face as red as he’d ever seen it. He always thought it looked cute, with her blue eyes set off against her flushed cheeks. “I know we’re not going to…do that,” she said. “But I think I’d feel better if you would just hold me for a bit. Is that okay?”

  “Yes. That’s okay,” he said quietly.

  She moved over to his side of the window seat, and he put his arms around her shoulders, pulling her close. She sighed and closed her eyes, resting her head against his chest. Being so close to her was stirring, but he could ignore that; that wasn’t what this was about. It was about giving her his support, his warmth, his company. It was about making each other feel just a little bit better after a terrible few days.

  They stayed like that for a while, not talking, just enjoying the special peace that came with closeness. He knew there were things he should say, things that needed to be addressed, but all he wanted to do was hold her for as long as possible.

  Good job confronting her there, kid.

  She jumped away from him when she heard the front door open, although there was no reason they needed to hide. Sam turned around to see that Liam and Dmitri had returned.

  “Did you get anything out of the psycho?”

  “A little,” said Liam, “And on the way back we stopped by the police station, just to make sure they were as neutralized as we thought.”

  Sam stood up. “Are they?”

  “Yes, but…” he seemed unsure how to continue. “They still combed the shop for evidence, and they found something…curious.”

  “And that is?” Sam pressed. He was getting impatient with them. Cassie had come up next to him, her arms crossed at her waist.

  Liam shrugged and looked away. Dmitri took a sheet of paper out of his coat pocket and handed it to Sam, who unfolded it with interest.

  It was a child’s drawing, complete with a giant yellow sun in the sky and little flecks of green crayon for grass. The picture featured a tall stick figure with yellow hair, a smaller stick figure with black hair, and another tiny stick figure with black hair. They were all smiling and holding hands, next to a crudely drawn house. There was a misshapen, but recognizable, pony off to the side.

  It was a little hard to read, but the scrawled text above the house clearly said “HI Mommi AnD Daddy!”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Sam looked more angry than confused. “What the hell kind of sick joke is this?”

  For a moment, Cassie felt nothing. Then all of a sudden, it was very hard to breathe. She put a hand over her mouth and dropped to the ground.

  “Cassie?” Sam said in obvious alarm, dropping the drawing and kneeling down to steady her. “What’s wrong?”

  Cassie was in such a panic, she wasn’t sure if she was thinking properly or if her thoughts were just appearing out of nowhere. It was all a jumble.

  It was Corianne. Sam froze time again at the shop, made another “knot” in time that she could play with. Her father told her not to pull me out of time anymore, but she wanted to do something, so she drew the picture and….

  Sam’s eyes were wide with worry; so wide that she could see highlights of lighter colors in his dark brown irises. “Tell me what’s wrong. What do you know about this drawing?”

  I have to tell him, he deserves to know, but how do I tell him? I don’t even understand it myself! And if Corianne can push things into our time, what does that mean? What if she goes back to the original time skip and does something, everything could change, what if the past changes will I even remember….

  As she crouched on the floor, hyperventilating, she had a strong urge to smack the daughter she had yet to give birth to. I want her to stop, I need her to stop doing this, I want her to STOP—

  In her panic, she had a strange sensation, like there was a floating lever in front of her. She reached out reflexively with her hand, only to realize it wasn’t her physical hand; she now seemed to have a third hand, strangely transparent and coming seemingly from nowhere. With a satisfying tug, she pulled the lever with the hand that wasn’t a hand, and her breathing began to return to normal.

  They heard
a loud crack and a muffled curse. A deep male voice groaned in pain.

  “Mr. Golding!” Cassie said, hopping up. She ran to the kitchen to see her English teacher squished into an uncomfortable position on the kitchen counter; the crack had been the sound of him hitting his head on the bottom of the kitchen cabinet when he regained his full size. She got a good look at his naked body, then turned away.

  “Can someone please get him some clothes?” She asked in the general direction of Liam and Dmitri. Dmitri went bounding down the hall, while Liam just stood there with a bemused look on his face. Well, I’m getting used to seeing naked men now. I guess that’s good?

  Sam had entered the kitchen behind her, still wide-eyed. He looked over John as though inspecting the damage. “You’re back? Are you sure all your parts are human?” he asked.

  John narrowed his hazel eyes to slits. Cassie realized what he was going to do about an instant before he did it. “You!” he yelled as he leapt off the counter to punch Sam in the face.

  He only got in one incomplete punch before Liam got to him, but it still sent Sam down to the tiled floor; John was a tall man, and he’d had some momentum behind him. Sam was still conscious, but the hit had obviously rattled him. He put a finger to his mouth and it came away bloody.

  “Well, I guess I deserved that,” he chuckled softly.

  “I should thank you,” John hissed. Liam was pinning him down on the floor to stop him from attacking Sam further, but he could still speak with some effort. “I used to live in fear of you. Now I just want to hurt you, as much as possible, and I don’t care what happens to me. It’s quite liberating!”

  Cassie heard footsteps behind her and realized the others had heard the commotion, even over their loud movie. Miri slid into the kitchen on her bare feet, confusion obvious on her face.

  Sam shakily got to his feet. “A little violent there, John. I’m not sure that’s a good attitude to have when teaching young people.”