“Sabrina, it’s time to wake up,” a kindly feminine voice said. A gentle nudge on her shoulder pushed away the breathtaking scenery.
She inhaled deep and stretched. Blinking hard a few times, she opened her eyes to find a smiling woman in her late fifties looking down at her. Her salt-and-pepper hair was piled up in a bun on the back of her head. Her pants suit was a gray pinstripe finished with a white round-collared shirt and sensible gray loafers. A tray was sitting by the bed with a single unopened peach rosebud, a symbol of youth, beauty, and immortality. She wondered who had selected it.
“I’m Carrie. Brandon called me. I am to be here until Eleanor returns,” the woman introduced herself. She continued to smile. It made Sabrina think of a cat that had just swallowed a canary and worked a bit too hard playing innocent. She had seen the look before on the faces of those witches at home that helped only to appease Eleanor but did not think much of her or her powers.
“Good morning,” Sabrina greeted with caution.
“More like evening. You slept through the day,” Carrie corrected.
Sabrina glanced at the window, but the heavy blinds were still down. Carrie moved to open them. Outside the window, an orange sky scattered with darkening purple clouds greeted her. Buildings filled the window’s view and traffic noises from below broke the silence. It was a far cry from the dream.
“Let’s get you dressed, my dear. Brandon will be up soon. We wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.” Carrie began bustling about the room, pulling clothes out of the bags Sabrina had not bothered to unpack.
Carrie laid a pair of jeans, a simple red T-shirt, socks, and a pair of sneakers out for her. The older woman then turned to the dresser on the far wall, crooked her finger, and made all the drawers open at once. She pointed at the bags in the floor. Another crook with an added flick of the wrist sent the clothes floating up in the air. They folded themselves and landed gently in the drawers. She gave a pushing motion with her palm facing the dresser. All the drawers shut.
“Now that you’ve been unpacked, I’ll leave you to your breakfast. You have time for a quick shower, if you would like.” The older woman did not wait for a response. She slipped from the room with the same canary-eating smile.
There were two doors, besides the one that led to the hall. A smaller set of bifold doors, matching the six-panel design of the interior doors, must have been the closet. There was a regular-sized door beside those nearer the back of the room. She assumed this was the bathroom. Not bothering with the robe, she got up and went in the mystery door.
A large marble-lined shower with clear, frameless glass doors took up most of one wall. A pair of sinks below a large mirror took most of the other. The far wall held another six-panel door, like the one she had entered. She assumed this to be the linen closet but did not open it to see. There were towels and toiletries already laid out for her use.
Sabrina decided a long, hot shower would both wake and soothe her. Yesterday’s heat had left a layer of sticky sweat on her skin. She was anxious to clean up and wash away the anxiety. Eleanor had always told her to rinse troubles from her hair and to shake unhappy soil from her feet. It seemed silly, but Eleanor had never been wrong. Everything always seemed better after a shower.
Leaving everything in her room, Sabrina turned on the water and let it come to a suitable temperature. She dropped the black silk gown and stepped in. The marble was cold on her feet, but the water felt perfect.
The body wash smelled heavenly and matched the shampoo and conditioner. By the time she rinsed her hair, the whole room was filled with rain-scented jasmine. She stood there and imagined a garden of white flowers against dark-green foliage at twilight. She turned her face up to the showerhead, thinking of falling rain in her dimly lit fantasy. She could hear a nightingale singing, as if it were really in the room.
“What the hell is this?” a male voice interrupted. “Why is there water all over the place?”
Sabrina gasped and opened her eyes. Dark jewel-tone rainbows were dancing on the walls around her. Her imaginary garden faded back into a very wet marble-lined bathroom. Water dripped from the ceiling. The bird song still echoed in the enclosed space.
Wearing nothing but a pair of cream silk sleeping pants, a furious Brandon stood in the doorway Sabrina had assumed was a linen closet. It must have led to his bedroom. The thought had not occurred to her that the bath may have been shared.
She could see his rippling abs and sculpted smooth chest. His dark bedhead hair hung around his face. His dark-brown eyes were tense. He looked at the wet floor standing in water. Then he looked up at her. The look changed from confused and angry to shock. It took only a moment for the astonishment to shift to lust. His mouth fell open a little to reveal the tips of his fangs as he gasped. His cock stiffened noticeably under the thin silk pants. He stood with one hand on the doorknob and the other frozen by his side. His look had shifted from incredulous to predatory.
A fluttering began in her stomach. Need began to boil from deep within her core. She could feel her nipples harden in response and a slippery fluid tickle down her inner thigh, mingling with the water. The shower warmed her skin, but a fire was building in her pussy. A warm flush rushed over her skin. There was an ache to be touched and to touch him back. She wanted him and knew he wanted her, too. The strange feelings were foreign and frightening, and yet they excited and intrigued her. She wanted more.
“Sabrina!” Carrie’s shrill voice rang out from her bedroom. The closed bathroom door muffled it somewhat, but the elder witch was obviously not happy. “What are you doing in there? The carpet in here is soaked!”
Sabrina’s head snapped to the bedroom door. The admonishment reminded her of Eleanor. The comparison drew Sabrina back to the reality of the situation. She was standing naked in front of a strange man. Her efforts to cover herself failed. There were not enough hands and arm length to do the job. She hung her head and hid her face in her hair. It was too late for modesty, but she tried, nonetheless.
Brandon cleared his throat. “I am very sorry to have…I’ll just leave.” The door quietly clicked behind him.
Sabrina should have been embarrassed, but she was not. Other than Clay, no man had seen her naked, and Clay did not count. They had not been skinny-dipping together since they were small children. It just was not the same thing. Brandon was a grown man with a very grown-up reaction.
For the first time in her life, Sabrina had a feeling to put with the word lust. Eleanor had had explained that love and lust were not one and the same. She had explained that one day there would be someone who brought an instant reaction, a deep resounding feeling in her soul, and she would know she had met the right man. Was this what Eleanor had meant? The lust was one thing, but was there more? How could there be? She had only just met Brandon last night.
A heavy knock on the door was followed by another shrill command. “Sabrina! Turn that water off! You’ve flooded the whole room!”
She turned off the water and stepped out onto the rug. Water squished between her toes. It was cold and unpleasant. The wet marble floor was like walking on a sheet of ice. She carefully made her way over to the sink, where she had left the towel. As she dried her hair, she dropped it into the standing water. The light gray fabric turned dark. This was her fault.
Instead of the usual shame at losing control, she was angry, angry at having let her imagination turn the bathroom into a rain garden, angry at being unable to keep her faulty magic to herself, and angry at having been interrupted. She wished the water would just dry up. She closed her eyes and imagined it flowing back to the shower, as if the drain were an enormous sponge. She did not want to have to clean this mess up by hand.
She opened her eyes. The rainbows were back, bouncing on the mirror’s silver surface. Water flowed around her feet, but she did not look down. Instead, she watched herself in the mirror. The dark crystalline stone was brighter, more sparkling. The colors made her pale skin glow with the reflected light. Sh
e had never seen it so bright. She knew she should stop. Eleanor would have made her stop by now. Without Eleanor here, she was free to watch the rainbows, to enjoy them.
“Sabrina! Where did all that water go?” Carrie’s voice was shrill and as upset as before. Now she was frantic and surprised.
Sabrina sighed heavily. Whether she was at home or here, there was going to be no peace. Someone was going to be watching her at all times, waiting for her to make a mistake. Another unfamiliar feeling welled up inside her—hatred.
She hated feeling like a waste of space, a magical misfit. She was not a normal witch, but she was not a human either. No one understood her. No one allowed her to be herself. She was not even sure she knew what it meant to be herself. She only knew the person in the mirror was not who she was allowed to be. The reflected woman was someone she desperately wanted to know.
She hated feeling alone. Her entire life she had been sequestered from the world. Other witches traveled. Some even moved. Why should she remain in hiding? The Plott Balsam Mountains were beautiful but isolated. That was changing with the influx of strangers and the Internet, but the small farmhouse tucked away in the hills had been a lonely place to be. She had Clay, but he was a boy, a brother. Not really. He was a man, but to Sabrina, he was always going to be her little brother. There was never going to be any romance between them. She wanted more than companionship. Meeting Brandon was proof of that.
The assassination attempt had frightened her. The bombed building had terrified her. Fleeing her home with the only family she knew upset her more. Being abandoned with strangers like useless luggage infuriated her. She was tired of it all, and she hated it.
“Sabrina! Are you coming out of there?” Carrie was becoming more demanding by the minute. Sabrina was on the verge of losing her temper. If she heard her name called out in such a manner once more, she was going to lose it. “Sabrina!”
“Shut up!” She focused her energy on wishing the stupid old woman would stop talking. It was not just a wish for Carrie to stop talking to her in the here and now but for her to stop talking period. A raspy choking sound followed. Sabrina slipped back into her wet nightgown and returned to her room.
She found Carrie sitting on her made-up bed. Tears were flowing down each cheek. There was a defeated, helpless look in her eyes. Both hands covered her mouth. Sabrina felt guilty.
“I am sorry about this. I had no idea this would happen. Remain calm, and let me try to fix this. Okay?” Sabrina knelt down in front of the woman. The lines on Carrie’s face were deepened with the stress and tension of crying.
Sabrina had to close her eyes to concentrate. She remembered the sound of Carrie’s voice when she woke up. There was a smug knowing in it, but it was otherwise polite. She wished to hear it again. A coughing gasp brought Sabrina’s attention back to the elder witch.
“I thought I would never speak again,” Carrie said. She rose from her seat. In a state of shocked stupor, she walked to the bedroom door and left. Out in the hall, Sabrina heard her talking to Brandon. She recounted what had just happened and ended with her resignation.
“You can’t leave. I promised Eleanor to have a witch here at all times.” Brandon almost sounded like he was begging.
“Forget it, Mr. Thorpe. I don’t know what she is, but it isn’t a witch. Some jobs aren’t worth any amount of money. Good evening to you, sir.”
There was a slam of the front door. Something heavy fell off the wall in the entrance hall. Indistinct cursing came from the short hallway outside her door. A heavy pounding was preceded by an irate Brandon barging the room.
“First, you flood both bedrooms. Then I find a flower garden and it raining in my bathroom, which explains the flooding. Now, Carrie has quit with no notice saying you stole her voice.”
“In my defense, I didn’t do it on purpose, and I did give it back. Plus, I dried up all the water. I don’t know how, but I did it,” Sabrina retorted. She did her best to look innocent. Telling Carrie to shut up had been intentional. The result was not.
“I gave Hadrian and Eleanor my word to keep you safe. Eleanor made it clear you needed someone to help with your magic. It’s not like there were many people interested in the job. Dropping Eleanor’s name made most of them hang up without as much as a good-bye. What do you suggest I do, if you are going to run off the first person I get?” His jaw worked in a steady rhythm, clenching and unclenching. He seemed to be working to keep his anger in check. He ran his fingers through his hair. “Get dressed and come out for breakfast. I have a few calls to make before I join you.” He closed the door without slamming it, leaving her blessedly alone once more.
* * * *
The phone rang and rang. Brandon knew Hadrian would be up. Finally, the ringing stopped. No one spoke. This was typical. If you spoke and Hadrian wanted to talk to you, he would. If not, he would hang up without uttering word.
“Hadrian, it’s me, Brandon. The witch I called quit. I can’t get anyone else to come after this evening. They say she isn’t a witch, and there is nothing they can do to balance her magic. What do you suggest I do with her?”
“Babysit her yourself. It will only be a few days. Eleanor has taken care of most of them and fewer are coming into the area. If the local witches aren’t useful, then there’s no point in having more people involved than needs to be. Do the job yourself,” the husky voice answered.
“But I’m not a witch. Eleanor—” Brandon did not get the chance to plead his case. Hadrian cut him off.
“Well, neither is she, apparently. You’re a smart boy, Brandon. Figure it out.” The line went dead. That was going to be Hadrian’s final word on the matter this evening.
Brandon tossed the phone on his bed in disgust and stood with his hands on his hips. Now what? What did he have to work with? He looked out the window at the bustling city below.
He scooped the phone up and dialed another number. A weaseling voice answered on the first ring.
“Yes, sir, what can I do for you this evening?”
“Farrell, I need you to bring up some things that would entertain our guest.”
“Like what kind of things?”
“I don’t know. Think modern young female. I’ll trust you on this one.”
“You got it, boss.”
He closed the phone and gave it another toss. He scooped up a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and headed into the once-flooded bath to make himself presentable.
Chapter 7
Sabrina slipped into the jeans Carrie had left on her bed. They were stiff and too new to be comfortable. A quick check of the floor was needed to find her bra. The T-shirt she tucked into her pants. If nothing else, it provided a barrier to the overly stiff waistband. A quick check in the mirror told her the outfit accentuated her curves. The V-neck collar gave only a slight hint of cleavage and framed her pendant. The new sneakers felt too hard and inflexible. They required breaking in before they were going to feel right.
She found a few hair accessories on the dresser beside a brush. Opting for a simple head band, Sabrina pushed the heavy blue-black curls out of her face. The damp hair stayed in place without any product. There was no makeup or other jewelry, outside of what she had worn yesterday. This, she decided, was too much for such a casual look and left the room.
Brandon was already seated at the dining table with an annoyed scowl. In front of him was an expensive-looking bone china mug containing a thick dark-red liquid. A teapot with a solid-black cozy sat beside the mug. Sabrina smelled the faint copper hints. It had to be warm blood. He flipped through a copy of the local newspaper.
“Who’s for breakfast?” She slid into the chair next to him, propped her elbows on the table, and placed her chin on top of her clasped hands. She gave him a smile that she hoped would soften his mood.
“Don’t you mean what’s for breakfast?” He was not going to play along.
“No. I mean who. You’re having somebody’s blood. I just wondered if you knew the person,” she con
tinued in a playful tone.
He gave her an appraising look for a brief moment. His jaw clenched and unclenched a few times. Suddenly, his face took on a smooth, expressionless blank look. A smile spread across his face. His shoulders relaxed. It was like watching a switch being flipped. The grumpy vampire was replaced by a pleasant, happy man. He made eye contact and held it.
“I don’t know the donor’s name or gender. It tastes like O positive. I assume you don’t want me to share. Your tray has long since gone cold. So, what would you like? Coffee? Juice? Any food?” he asked, still smiling. He snapped his fingers without taking his eyes off hers.
A tall, rail-thin young woman entered from the kitchen area. Her short, platinum-blonde hair was spiked into a carefully sculpted bad-pixie style. Her clothes were modern steampunk, all black with buckles and grommets everywhere. There were several earrings in each ear. A nose stud and silver eyebrow ring adorned her face. Sabrina was not sure what she was, but it was not a vampire. Her skin was pale from lack of sunshine, not dead pigment. There was a thick scar along one side of the young woman’s neck. She stood without speaking, waiting for orders. Brandon did not acknowledge her.
Not understanding what to do, Sabrina just sat in her chair and looked back and forth between the two. They, in turn, watched her. Finally, Sabrina spoke. “Just a glass of orange juice will be fine, thanks.”
The woman disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a small juice glass. She sat it front of Sabrina and left without waiting to be thanked. Sabrina stared after her.
“Ignore Scarlet. She prefers it that way,” Brandon said, as if answering some unspoken question. “She is very antisocial but a good and loyal servant. She will do anything you ask of her, and she is very discreet.”
Midnight's Jewel (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 5
