by Jane Hinchey
"You removed the dagger. If the dagger had remained in his chest, he would remain dead. But only you could remove it; if it had been someone else, he would still be dead."
Silence followed, then Georgia muttered, "I had no idea."
Melissa shrugged. "There's no reason why you would know any of it. Your mother fought so hard to keep you out of magic, but it seems it found you anyway. You were destined."
"Why didn't Mom want us to know? Why did she turn her back on it?"
"Because she was scared. Of the hunter. He killed our parents. He's been slowly taking out our family line."
"He killed Grandma and Grandpa? But they died in a house fire."
"They did," Melissa agreed. "One he orchestrated."
"I don't understand. If Mom was the witch, why kill Dad? Same with Grandma and Grandpa. Assuming Grandma is the witch, why did he kill Grandpa?"
"Convenience. Too hard to get the witch alone. Who knows?"
"Why not kill us as kids?"
"I can't answer that either. Maybe he has a built-in stop switch, I really don't know. All I know is that he's awake when he shouldn't be, and I think he's coming after me."
"So you want us to protect you?"
"No. I want you to destroy him."
"With the dagger?"
Melissa nodded. "And your witchcraft."
"I don't have any witchcraft. And it's too late now, I'm a vampire."
"You've always had the power, Georgia. And you too, Skye. You just need to believe, learn and practice."
"So you're saying I can be a witch and a vampire?"
"Of course."
"That's impossible. A vampire cannot be a witch." Zak strode back and forth in front of the fireplace, hands behind his back as he pondered what Georgia had told him. Skye perched on the edge of the sofa, eyes following him as he moved back and forth.
"Why not? You're a hybrid, half angel, half vampire. It's not inconceivable that I could be a witch and a vampire."
"It's unheard of."
"That doesn't mean it can't be true."
"You want it to be true!" His voice was accusing. Georgia turned from where she'd been gazing absently out the front window, watching the warriors roughhouse outside as if they weren't listening in on everything that was being said in this room.
"And clearly you don't. Why not?" She crossed to him, could see the frustration on his face and was puzzled by it. Would it be so wrong if she were to develop her witchcraft, for she'd realized very quickly that what Melissa had told her was true. It explained her psychic abilities as a human. It made perfect sense.
"It's going to make you a target for this hunter. I just want you safe. After Marius..."
"Sweetheart, I survived Marius. You've taught me how to protect myself. Plus, I have you guys. It'll be fine."
"What about Skye? Are you prepared to risk her too?" Oh, low blow. Georgia glanced at her sister who was watching them both with interest.
"She's already implicated, Zak. She has magic too. Even if she chooses not to use it, she has it, just like Mom did. Maybe if my mother had learned to use her magic she'd have had a chance against the hunter."
"Maybe," Zak conceded, blowing out a weary breath. He felt like he'd only just got Georgia back and someone else was after her. Would she ever be safe? Marius had taken her, fed off her, nearly killed her, yet she'd escaped him. And she'd escaped as a human. Frail. Weak. She'd gotten away, and had survived.
His eyes cut to Skye, perched on the edge of the sofa. He'd suggested she should wear a few of the more feminine items from her wardrobe, the type of outfits Georgia was used to seeing her in, and she'd happily obliged. When Georgia had seen her sister in a skirt and heels with makeup on, the relief in her had been palpable. He'd been right. Too much had changed in her world and she was seriously rattled. He cursed himself again for not noticing, for being totally oblivious to her pain. Now this. Now magic and witchcraft. He was sorely tempted to lock her away in the cell beneath the house to keep her safe for eternity...a grin twitched at his lips when he imagined how she'd react to that. She'd kick his balls up into his chest cavity for sure. As much as it pained him if he didn't want to drive her away, he had to work with her, not against her.
5
Every day after sunset Georgia and Skye traveled to the farmhouse to work with Melissa for a few hours. Every day Georgia made progress and Skye did not.
"Why isn't it working!" Skye stomped her foot and pouted, arms crossed and looking very much like a three-year-old about to embark on an epic tantrum.
"You're blocking," Melissa explained, crossing the barn where they'd been practicing levitating small pieces of wood to stand behind Skye and rub her temples.
"Close your eyes. Take a deep breath in, through your nose, all the way into your belly and slowly out through your mouth. Clear your mind, let your worries go, let your stress go...concentrate on your breathing."
Georgia watched them from the corner of her eye, trying not to get distracted and drop the three figurines she was twirling around in a circle as if they were dancing. The magic came to her easily. She could feel it inside her, traveling through her veins. It was an intrinsic part of her, a part that she'd had buried deep inside for too long and now it was running rampant, happy to be free. To be home. Right from the start, Georgia had taken to magic like a duck to water. But right from the start, Skye had struggled. She couldn't light a candle with a flick of her fingers. Couldn't turn a page in the grimoire by closing her eyes and concentrating. She watched now as Melissa tried to help Skye, but nothing was working. Turning her attention back to her floating figurines she gently lowered them back to the workbench.
"Is it possible that Skye isn't a witch after all? Maybe it didn't get passed down to her."
Melissa and Skye looked at her, Melissa already shaking her head. "No. It isn't like genetics where there are percentages involved if you inherit your mother's eyes or your father’s. If either parent is a witch, then their offspring definitely have magic in their blood. It could be diluted and weak, but it's there. If both parents are witches, then the magic is even stronger and will show up earlier."
"Then why isn't it working for me?" Skye whined. "I'm doing everything Georgia's doing and not a single thing is working."
"Something is blocking you, Skye. Maybe, secretly, you don't believe any of this, or you don't want any of this."
"But I do. I want super witchy powers like Georgia, to be special like her."
"But subconsciously maybe you don't. Don't worry, it'll come. We just need to keep working on it. Don't give up."
"Georgia's right. I think I'm not a witch after all. Maybe I was adopted."
"I can prove you're a witch, Skye."
"You can?"
"Yep. Do you want me to?"
"Yes!"
"Okay, cast a circle while I get a couple of things. Warning...I'm going to need your blood."
"Not a problem."
On the floor of the workshop was a pentagram they'd drawn in chalk earlier; now Skye went and stood in the circle. Candles were placed at each point of the pentagram, and with her arms outstretched, Skye chanted under her breath. They didn't light. She cast a beseeching look at Georgia who quickly muttered the same chant and the candles flared to life, the flames burning brightly before settling into a steady glow.
Melissa joined Skye in the circle, in her hands a metal bowl, a small knife and a piece of parchment.
"Sit," she instructed. Both women sat cross-legged in the circle, facing each other.
"Give me your hand." Skye held out her hand, palm up. Melissa grasped it and quickly drew the blade across her palm, blood pooling. She tipped her hand sideways and the blood dripped into the metal bowl. Within seconds the wound had sealed itself.
Melissa chanted softly, a spell the girls hadn't heard before. Steam rose from the bowl and the blood bubbled. Melissa stopped and opened her eyes.
"Right. If you're a witch, your blood will form the pattern of a
pentagram on this parchment. If you're not a witch, it'll just splatter."
Carefully she tipped the bowl, letting the blood spill out onto the parchment. Immediately the blood began to move, separating and spreading, creating the unmistakable design of a pentagram.
"How do I know you didn't just tell it to do that?" Skye frowned at the parchment "It doesn't prove that I'm a witch, just that you know some fancy spells."
"Skye!" Georgia admonished, shocked at her sister's accusation.
"You're a witch, Skye," Melissa assured her. Without a word, Skye scrambled to her feet and left the workshop. A minute later they heard her car start.
"I'm sorry. She's not ready, that's all." Melissa rose to her feet, gathering the bowl, knife, and parchment.
"Why isn't it happening for her?"
"It's true what I said; she's somehow blocking herself. Until that block is removed, she's going to struggle. Now you"—Melissa shrugged—"well, you always had psychic abilities, so you're bound to be more open to the idea of magic and witchcraft. Skye's coming in kinda cold."
"It doesn't have anything to do with my connection to the dagger, does it?"
"Not at all. The dagger is just a weapon. It has more power when wielded by you, but it is, in fact, just a weapon."
Georgia stood in the workshop door, staring out into the night. There was a chill in the air, summer well and truly over, winter only weeks away. So much had changed.
"Are you still safe here? From the hunter?" Georgia asked. Melissa had been staying at the farmhouse since her arrival in Redmeadows, even though Georgia had invited her to stay at Zak’s mansion.
"There's a cloaking spell in place. I'm fine," Melissa reassured her.
"You'll let me know if anything changes?"
"I will." The two women hugged, and as they pulled apart Melissa pressed her grimoire into Georgia's hands. "Take this. Read it. Practice."
"You're sure?"
"Of course. Now go, help your sister. She needs you."
"Going well I take it?" Zak drawled. Georgia pushed the front door closed with her boot and crossed to him, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling his mouth down to hers. Finally releasing him, she let out a heartfelt sigh. "I needed that." Entwining her fingers with his, she led him into the kitchen, releasing him long enough to rummage in the fridge for a blood bag, talking to him over her shoulder as she emptied it into a mug and placed it in the microwave.
"Skye's blocking, so she's not seeing results, and that's making her mad."
"And you? How's it going?"
"Well!" She grinned at him. "I can do this!" Waving her hands, she levitated the fruit out of the bowl on the counter and danced them in the air before lowering them carefully back into the bowl.
"Neat." He nodded, but his face didn't seem impressed.
"Just wait until I can do it with bigger items." She wriggled her eyebrows at him and he laughed.
"What's that?" He nodded at the old leather-bound book she'd placed on the counter.
"It's my family's grimoire. Basically, a book of magic spells the witches in our family have used over the years." The microwave dinged and she removed the mug, raising it to her lips and taking a long sip. Not as delicious as blood from the vein, but it did the job. "Where's Skye?"
"Sparring with Dainton."
"I should go talk to her. She was really upset." Rinsing the mug, she placed it in the dishwasher.
"I wouldn't. Not tonight anyway. I think she needs some space," Zak warned.
"You reckon? I don't want her to think I don't care that she's struggling with this."
"She won't. She's more like you than you realize. And right now, time out is the answer."
"If you're sure?" Reluctantly Georgia slid the grimoire off the counter and hugged it to her chest. "I was hoping she'd want to read this with me."
"Try her tomorrow."
"Just what did she say to you? Exactly." Georgia frowned suspiciously.
"She was blowing off steam."
"What did she say?"
"Words to the effect that she's had enough of magic and doesn't want to hear the words witch or magic ever again."
"I really should talk to her."
"Tomorrow. Take it from me, you'll make it worse if you force the issue tonight."
"What makes you so sure?"
"Because I deal with you on a daily basis, and like I've already said, you and your sister are a lot more alike than you realize." He softened the words with a wink.
"Okay. I guess." She shrugged, clutching the book tighter to her chest, eager to explore its pages. Zak smiled before quickly kissing her. "Go. Go read your book. I've got some writing to do, then I'll join you." Not needing to be told twice, Georgia skipped from the room, rushing up the stairs to the master bedroom she shared with Zak, bouncing on the magnificent bed she'd made for him and making a nest for herself among the pillows. Balancing the grimoire on her crossed legs, she reverently opened it. The book was old, its pages stiff and yellowed, the penmanship old fashioned with the occasional blotch of ink. There were diagrams, notes, annotations. It was the door to a new world and she fell right in.
Stretching the kinks out of his neck, Zak switched off his laptop, glancing at his watch. Almost dawn. He hadn't meant to work so late, but he'd just hit send on the email that delivered his latest manuscript to his editor who'd been hounding him daily. He was behind schedule, with all the excitement of the last couple of months, but thankfully life seemed to be falling back into a familiar rhythm.
Georgia seemed to have shaken off whatever illness had plagued her—he still couldn't get his head around the magic thing though. Could suppressing magic make you ill? And as much as he wanted to deny that magic could exist within a vampire, Georgia was living proof that it was indeed possible. So far all she had managed were what he'd term parlor tricks. Not to her face though, she'd kick his butt into next week if he belittled her achievements.
Thinking of her now, upstairs, waiting for him in their bed, had his lips curling and his body tightening in anticipation. Quickening his steps, he mounted the stairs two at a time.
He stood in the doorway of his bedroom, watching the woman who had him turned inside out sprawled across his bed, asleep. She was a restless sleeper. She'd tossed and turned from the first night they'd spent together, and he'd resorted to simply wrapping her up in his arms and keeping her pinned against him so that they'd both get some rest. Looking at the disarray of his bed now, he knew nothing had changed. The covers were a tangle and she was face down in the middle, arms spread out to the sides, taking up a lot of space for such a little thing. She'd kicked most of the covers off, the sheet resting just above her backside. He could see the dimples on each side of her spine. She was clearly naked. He was hard instantly.
Approaching the bed, he stripped, leaving his clothes where they fell on the floor. Stopping at the foot of the bed, he crawled up her body; on all fours he hovered over her, dropping his mouth to those dimples and licking. She was so damn delicious. She murmured in her sleep but didn't wake. Placing a knee either side of her thighs, he kissed his way up her back, hands skimming along her sides to her shoulders then down her arms which were still spread-eagled on the bed. He felt her heart rate pick up and smiled against her skin. Her hair was pushed to one side, giving him free rein to the back of her neck, which he took full advantage of, biting and then soothing with slow strokes of his tongue. Her breath hitched and she pushed her backside into him, hips coming off the bed. Awake.
"Zak..." she whispered voice heavy with lust.
"I've been thinking about this all evening," he whispered in her ear, making her shiver. "Coming up here to find you in my bed. Naked."
"I want you." She pushed against him again. He knew she wanted to turn over, but he kept her pinned in place. He had all the time in the world, no rush to squeeze in everything he wanted to do to her, with her, for her.
"I'm going to make you scream," he promised, tongue tracing along her
shoulder blade.
"Let me touch you," she begged. He loved it when she begged. Begged him to fuck her. Harder. Memories flooded his mind, her taste, the way he fit inside her.
"Not yet," he growled, fisting her hair and pulling her head back to claim her mouth. The move was aggressive, but he took care not to hurt her. Her upper body arched off the bed to meet him and he took advantage, palming a perfect breast as his tongue explored her mouth. He squeezed and soothed her nipple and she writhed beneath him. He could smell her arousal and it nearly undid him. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her.
Tearing away the covers, he pushed her legs apart, settling himself between them and pulling her up onto her knees.
"Grab the headboard." She did, bracing herself. He knelt behind her. Fisting his cock he closed his eyes and pushed into her. He silently apologized for the lack of foreplay; he had to be in her. Now. Her breath sucked in and they both froze. Oh, God. He could come right now. She was hot, tight and wet, wrapped around him in dark velvet. She was perfect. Slowly he pulled out, almost all the way, hovering on the edge of her. She tried to push back against him, to take him back in, but he grabbed her hips and held her still. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
"Please. Zak." She panted. He relented, feeling her stretch as he pushed back into her. Then out. Fuck. His body was on fire, sweat beading over him. He ran a hand down her back, her skin clammy, covered with a fine sheen of sweat. It felt good that she was just as affected as he. He continued his agonizingly slow pace and she began to curse him, push back into him even though he tried to hold her in place. She was so responsive.
He leaned over her, stilling, his cock buried deep. His mouth at her ear, he wrapped an arm around her and pressed his thumb against her clit.
"Can you take it rough, baby?"
"Yes!" she all but shouted, body jerking.
He straightened back up and picked up the pace, ramming into her. She met him stroke for stroke, pushing back with each thrust, her skin shining beneath him. Her head dropped forward as she groaned, a long and drawn out sound that had his balls tightening. Almost. There. The sight of her nape beckoned. Pounding harder he leaned over her and clamped his teeth into that vulnerable flesh. He tasted blood but couldn't stop himself. He reached under her, his thumb pressing that sensitive spot, hard. She screamed, her climax clenching his shaft so tight. Not releasing her neck, he pounded frantically, finally letting go with a roar, back upright, hands gripping her hips as he emptied into her, flesh slapping against flesh.
