by E. A. Copen
I inched through the entry to pause near the tiny closet when the familiar scent of his sweat wafted past my nose. He was here. Slowly, I sank further into the shadows and looked out over the room, trying to pinpoint his location. My heart seized at the sight of him, handcuffed to the bed, sleeping sitting up. Triple-braided ropes secured his legs and torso to the bed, although I suspected he’d be able to break free from those with relative ease, thanks to his newfound strength.
He’s not a full vampire yet, but there’s fuck all I can do to stop that from happening. Stefan’s strong, though. He’ll be able to resist feeding for a time. But not forever. No one can go forever without giving in to their instincts. It would kill him inside to do it, and he would fight that vampire nature every step of the way, but I had no illusions about being able to save him from it.
I crept closer when I noticed a bottle of sleeping pills sitting on the dresser near him. For a moment, I feared the worst—that maybe he’d decided death was preferable to living half-turned—but only a few pills seemed to be missing.
I palmed the bottle. “Stupid bastard. Always making me worry about you. You’d have been the death of me, you know?”
I touched the side of his sleeping face. That was always my favorite time to see him, although I’d never have admitted it to him. There were a thousand things I should’ve said but hadn’t, small actions I should’ve taken that might’ve meant the world to him. Stefan had followed me to the other side of the country, as far from his home as he’d ever been. He’d have gone with me to the end of the world and back. Here was a man who would’ve given me everything, and all I offered him in return were grief and complaints.
“I’m sorry. I would’ve been kinder if I knew how. You were always too good for me. I’m going to tell myself it’s better this way, not saying a proper goodbye, but you won’t. You’ll blame yourself.” I ran my thumb along his jawline, where his beard had started to grow in, dark and rough like sandpaper. His lips tasted like home, all those nights spent doing nothing. I’d wasted so much time, letting our downtime drive me crazy when I should’ve been enjoying every minute of it.
“Don’t look for me,” I whispered with a hint of power behind the words. It wasn’t a compulsion but a wish. Vampire or not, Stefan could still have a happy life, but not with me.
I found my bag in the corner and retrieved Milly, putting a finger to my lips to indicate we should be quiet. Stefan would probably sleep through a train wreck on those pills, but I didn’t want to risk him waking up. He’d try to stop me.
I’m so glad you’re here, Josiah. There was another male here. A demon. I didn’t like the taste of him.
“You bit him, did you? Good on ya.” I urged her onto my shoulder.
Why does Stefan feel so wrong? Is he turning?
I nodded. “Can’t stop it, but I mean to kill the master vampire before he can take advantage. I’ll need to sever the connection.”
That’s a big spell, Josiah. A divine spell. What about all the protection you have on your body? All the spells. You can’t do this spell and keep them intact.
“Not just that,” I added gravely, “but all of Ira’s healing. Severing Stefan’s link to Spyder’ll be fatal. What I need is a way to keep it from being fatal right now. Slow down the damage, so it doesn’t hit all at once.”
Milly tapped her little spider feet. How long do you need?
“Long enough to find God, or try to.”
She turned a half-circle and skittered across the back of my neck to the other shoulder. You would die for him?
I looked down at Stefan and swallowed. “I love him.”
Milly was still for a beat. It can be done, but…
“But what?”
It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.
I’d never been especially adept at reading Milly’s body language, but I got the distinct impression she was hiding something from me. I lifted her from my shoulder and nudged her so I could look at her beady eyes. “Out with it, girl. I’m not doing this until you tell me what it costs.”
I’ll have to molt afterward is all. You know how I hate that.
In other words, she’d be inaccessible for one to two weeks after. It’d be shit timing since I’d need her help to find God too, but saving Stefan was the immediate issue. Two weeks was a small price to pay for that. I just hoped Remiel wouldn’t make his move during that time. “But you’ll do it?”
Of course, I will. You’ve been good to me. I want you to be happy, Josiah.
“Right then, old girl. Let’s get to work.”
I cast a circle using a marker from my bag. It would ruin the sheets, but so be it.
Stefan stirred as I finished closing the circle with a drop of blood. He turned his head and looked at me with empty, half-lidded eyes. “Josiah? What’re you doing here?”
“Go back to sleep,” I said gently and kissed his lips again. “We’ll talk about it later.”
“Okay,” he murmured and closed his eyes.
I sighed. Maybe those pills didn’t work as well on partly turned vampires. “All right, Milly. Are you ready?”
Ready.
I started the chant slow. That many Enochian syllables in a row felt strange in my mouth, despite knowing the language by heart. Christian had ensured that. I wonder how he might react if he knew how I was using the secrets in his grimoire. He’d never been one to do anything altruistic in all the time I’d known him. Everything had an ulterior motive. Maybe I was the same most of the time, but not this once.
Magic flared to life, delicate and clean, unlike the blood magic I was so used to. It was thin enough to flow through the eye of a needle, yet as strong as wire. I bent it to my will, spinning it around the edges of the circle like a web. With the rise of power in the circle, flashes of memories surfaced. Little sideways smiles, the way he’d throw back his head and the corded muscle of his throat would work when he laughed. Flashing electric blue light against the bare skin of his chest. The annoying way he used to fold the towels. Slammed doors. Raised voices. The heat of petty arguments transformed into passionate apologies spoken not with words, but with teeth and tongues nonetheless.
Power sparked deep in my bones, spreading through me like an electrical fire. I grunted and went to my knees as old injuries flared to life. My lungs seized. Bones creaked, remembering the places they’d broken. A blinding headache settled behind my eyes as the ghost of a concussion returned.
Another spell flashed on my shoulder, small in size but not in effect. It pulled all the pain from my bones and sent a wave of warm, protective energy through my body. Milly’s magic swelled in an umbrella over me as she redirected the damage of the spell I was doing from me to her. At the height of the spell, her weight shifted forward, and she fell to the floor.
I paused, a sick feeling in my stomach. She’d never fallen during a spell before. “Milly?”
Go on, Josiah. Don’t stop. I just lost my balance. I’ll be fine. She sounded tired, but that wasn’t unexpected. This was a hell of a spell we were doing.
I continued chanting, the words rising in speed and pitch. Pain seared the tattooed lines on my skin, burning away the ink as if it were made of gasoline. Even Milly’s protection spell couldn’t shield me from the pain of it. I gritted my teeth and kept chanting through it, one hand extended toward Stefan. The spell reached a fever pitch, along with the burning pain under my skin.
Let go, Milly urged. Let it go!
But I was afraid to. Even though it was already done, I was terrified of what would happen when I removed all the protection I’d gathered to myself over the years. Those tattoos were the only thing hiding me from every angel in creation, and every angel had received a kill order for me long ago. I’d become visible again as soon as the spell was finished. Not only that, but I would start a countdown clock to my death. Milly was good, but not even she could put a permanent protection spell in place. It would wear down over time. Saving him was suicide of the sweetest kind.
/> I released the spell. It flew out of me like a comet screaming through the sky and exploded over Stefan’s body, a weeping willow of golden Heavenly light.
Darkness returned. Power retreated. I fell to my knees on the dingy carpet with a grunt and stayed there, panting until I caught my breath. “Christ, that was harder than I thought it’d be. You all right, Milly?”
There was no answer. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end.
I turned my head in search of her. “Milly?”
She was lying in the carpet with her legs curled in, still as could be.
I picked her up and found her lifeless. “Oh, no. No, no! Dammit, Milly. How could you?” I shifted her gently and held her body between two hands, resting my forehead against the thumbs. She’d known what it would cost and she’d done it anyway, sacrificing her life to protect me for as long as possible. Why? Why couldn’t she have held onto just a little bit of her magic to stay alive?
My throat tightened and my eyes watered, but I didn’t let myself cry. Milly wouldn’t have wanted that. Instead, I gently lifted her, intending to place her in her enclosure until I could perform a proper burial. I lifted the enclosure and paused.
Milly had spun a new web all over the bottom of her enclosure, but it wasn’t the web that captured my attention. There, floating in the middle of it, held in place by a few small threads of spider silk, was a little yellow egg sac.
“Milly, you devil,” I whispered, tilting the enclosure for a better look.
Milly, of course, wasn’t confined to the enclosure as long as she was in the bag. Being a magical creature from another realm, she could travel on a whim. Perhaps she’d gotten a little homesick, gone back to whatever magical place she’d left, and found a decent Mister Tarantula. Well, not a mister. Not even magical spiders were prone to long-term relationships with other spiders. The females tended to eat their mates after the deed. At any rate, the poor bastard had been lucky enough to succeed apparently, because there it was—the result of his hard work. I’d have to make sure the little buggers made it.
For the moment, I placed their mum in the enclosure with them. It was the only way to be sure I didn’t lose her for a later burial.
I secured all my belongings and went to the door, where I paused to look back at Stefan one last time. He’d be safe now, at least from the blowback of killing Spyder. He was a free man in every sense of the word. If anybody deserved a fresh start, it was him.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Josiah
The Nevada Terrace building had always been a bit of an eyesore. While most residential high rises weren’t much to look at, the Terrace was especially ugly and blocky. It looked like someone had just plopped down a cement rectangle amidst a bunch of others, a carbon copy. Then they went and added that awful reflective glass and the odd-looking penthouse floor. The passage of time hadn’t done it any favors, either. I could see why the city wanted to demolish the monster.
I dropped my cigarette and crossed the street. With the building being demolished in less than twelve hours, I’d figured the place would be under watch, but I didn’t spot a single cop car on my walk over, nor any news vans. The street was empty, even emptier than usual.
The lobby had been gutted, the old security desk pulled out and hauled away. The same was true of all the seating and the light fixtures. Everything that wasn’t part of the original structure had been stripped and removed.
The first elevator I tried was out of service, but the second whirred to life. I had to wait for the car to drop, which told me someone else had taken it up and not come back down. My hunch about where I would find Spyder seemed to be right.
I rode the elevator up in a calm haze, unlike the first time Christian had brought me there. If I listened closely, I could almost hear his speech about how much I’d like his place. I’d been suspicious then, just like old Sarge taught me to be. Hard to stay that way with an empty belly, though. Had I known then how it would all play out, I wondered if I’d still go with him. Probably. I was young and stupid. I’d have paid any price for the power I sought, not so different from Christian.
I tried to focus on that memory and hold onto the anger, but it slipped away, and in its place, came another memory. The time Danny and I got stuck in the elevator together during a power outage. It didn’t last long, only a half-hour or so, but back then, that’d seemed like a lifetime.
Christian sent us out together to get beer and cigarettes. The clerk at the corner store didn’t check IDs, and we were the only two who looked old enough. The night before, we’d all had too much to drink, and four of us—me, Evette, Danny, and another girl named Hanna—had all crowded into the secondary bedroom for a game of Truth or Dare. Evette had dared me to kiss Danny.
I hadn’t been interested the first time I met him. He was just another kid trying to learn magic. But the more time I spent with him, the more I liked spending time with him. Until that night of Truth or Dare, it hadn’t occurred to me at all that I could love another man, especially with what Christian had done—was doing—to me.
But after the quick peck, the giggles, and the blushing the night before, we didn’t talk about it. At least, not until the elevator.
I blew out a breath and leaned against the elevator wall. “Well, this is taking forever.”
Danny tugged on his collar. “It’s hot as hell, too.”
He was right, of course. Without any airflow, the elevator was nearly unbearable. I started to pull off my shirt but paused when I saw the way he was looking at me. Were his cheeks flushed because of the heat or because of something else?
I looked down at my hands and rubbed them together as if I were washing them clean. “So, Hannah and Evette are crazy, right?”
“Yeah,” he said, sounding relieved. “Girls’ll come up with anything to pass the time.”
“Watching two hot girls make out? I’m not complaining,” I said.
“Me neither,” Danny added a little too quickly.
The silence stretched long and thin between us.
It was Danny who spoke first. He never could keep his mouth shut. “Evette’s a lucky girl. You’re a good kisser.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, for a boy.”
“You know you liked it. Just come out and say it.” I snickered and punched him in the arm. It was good-natured teasing, not uncommon between teenage boys. I hadn’t meant it seriously, even if both of us knew it was true.
Danny lowered his head and rubbed his arm. “I did like it, Josiah. I liked it a lot.”
I’ll never forget the look he gave me: big, scared eyes like a beaten dog asking for scraps from strangers. How many times had he lied to himself, hidden the truth so deep even he didn’t know what it was? We were all doing it. There was no way not to question with Christian taking us out to that sleazy motel. He spent too much time proving to us how much we liked what he was doing to us. Bastard wouldn’t have had to convince anyone if it was what any of us boys really wanted. All his sessions ever left us with were questions and loneliness. Was it really any wonder Danny and I found solace in each other for the few months we had?
The elevator car slid to a stop at the penthouse level, the dinging of the doors snapping me out of my memory. I stepped into the short hallway, and it was like walking back in time. The carpet had been replaced, but it was the same ugly shade of burgundy. Christian’s penthouse door stood straight ahead, marked with a brass P on the black door. I grabbed the knob and pressed my ear to the door, listening for voices. There were none, only the ghosts of music, laughter, and magic stuck in time like boulders in a river.
The front door opened silently on an empty space with white walls and black doors. Stairs spiraled to the second floor, where a worn wooden rail marked the overlook I used to retreat to during parties. I could see everything from up there, but that had never been my interest. No, I made it a point to go up there to seem like I was above the boring small talk and last year’s music downstairs. The overlook was for the elite,
Christian’s chosen—me, Evette, and Danny.
It didn’t take long for my feet to carry me back there, retracing a route I must’ve walked a hundred times in two years. I stood on the edge, running my fingers over the rough wood. It wasn’t the original cherry Christian had in his apartment. I’d burned all of that, along with him and his groupies.
Warm, velvety laughter echoed behind me. I turned and swore I caught a glimpse of the pair of leather recliners that used to be there. Christian sat in one, one leg crossed over the other, some expensive drink in his glass. His wife, Evette, sat across from him in her favorite little black dress, her smile as radiant and contagious as ever. They presided over the party below like royalty, as always.
I would’ve stood right here, I thought, and went to stand behind where their leather thrones had been. The memory was so real, I could almost smell Evette’s perfume. Did you ever love her, Christian, or was your marriage a sham? You lived a lie, presenting a happily married man to the world all day while you fucked little boys in seedy motels at night. Boys you bought with the promise of forbidden knowledge, with drugs, shelter, sex, and the promise of unconditional love. You preached a doctrine of truth, open exchange of information, and acceptance, yet you were the biggest lie of all, weren’t you? I don’t know why I didn’t see it sooner.
“Enjoying the view from up there?” Spyder’s voice echoed through the empty apartment. “You always did like to lord over the rest of us.”
I dropped my bag and stepped to the rail, peering down at him. “I’d say I wasn’t any better than the rest of you, but that’d be a lie.”
He coughed out a laugh. “Always so smug, aren’t you? You’re a fucking bastard. You should’ve died with the rest of them, you and your brat daughter. Then none of this would’ve happened.”
