“I guess we need to go to Amborix and stop the princess from killing her family,” Annie said. “Fabulous.”
*
Annie and Spencer strode through town, their hands linked. She glanced at him with a smile, he kissed her forehead, and they locked their arms in a routine they had been practicing since becoming partners and were now quite adept at pretending for the sake of those who observed them.
They climbed several steps to the door of the hotel and reached the small entry with uneven pink and black tiles. Annie smiled at the concierge at the front desk. His eyes followed them as they climbed the stairs to their second-floor room.
The room was as they left it, with the Do Not Disturb sign on the door handle and the vampire still tied to a chair in the corner, away from all windows and the sun that now streamed into the room.
The open window did more than let in the fresh air; they hoped to agitate Sturtagaard. He could smell the scent of iron as the villagers and tourists ambled down the sidewalk, many stopping at the corner below the window for brief conversations.
Upon their return, Spencer removed the bag from the vampire’s head. His fangs had extended on their own, visible through his clenched jaw. Saliva dribbled to his chin.
“Hanging in there, Sturtagaard?” Annie asked as she sat on the bed and fell backwards.
A five-minute nap would be great.
She closed her eyes and listened to the voices that wafted up to their room.
“They all blame you,” he sneered as he pulled against the restraints.
“Kinda figured that,” Spencer said.
Annie rested her arm across her eyes to block out the sun. “We’re leaving anyway. Amelie is on her way home.”
“Revenge is common,” Sturtagaard remarked.
Annie sat up and raised her eyebrows. “Revenge?”
Sturtagaard smirked. “For all the wrongs that were done to you when you were human. It fits. She’s had time to think about it, hone her skills. All vampires have a revenge kill.”
This concept was something new to Annie; even with her extensive training and knowledge of vampires. From the time she was thirteen, her father had trained her on how to fight the demons, and she had continued to learn much about the creatures after that, but this she had never heard of. Kills tied to their former lives, the destruction of past friends and family?
Why am I not surprised?
“Did you know this?” Annie asked Spencer.
“No. I’ve never interviewed a vampire in such a way to learn that,” he admitted.
“Is that just a reaction to the demon taking over your soul?” Annie inquired, genuinely curious.
“Yes. Probably. I don’t know if that explains it. I just know that all vampires do this,” Sturtagaard said without much conviction.
“So who’d you kill?” Annie asked.
Sturtagaard regarded her question carefully before answering. The memory of his revenge kill must have brought him amusement or joy; he smirked before answering. Annie grimaced.
I shouldn’t have asked.
“It was such a chaotic time,” he began. Annie already knew he was born a Viking in what had once been North Umbria and was now Northern England, but she wasn’t aware of many details beyond that. “We were losing the old ways, assimilating into society, a new life. We were so tired from that battle to rid the land of…” He glanced at Annie and cleared his throat.
To clear the land of what?
“Alas, in the end it wasn’t meant to be.”
She thought back to the time. He was born at the end of the Viking reign, long after the initial raids had happened. It should have been relatively peaceful.
What happened?
Sturtagaard tugged on his restraints. “You’re cutting off the circulation,” he said.
“You don’t have circulation,” Spencer mocked. “You haven’t answered the question. Who did you kill?”
“I’m getting to it, you idiot. It wasn’t that simple. I thought you learned all about me in your Wizard Guard training?” Sturtagaard taunted.
“Fine, don’t tell us. I don’t care anymore,” Annie said dryly.
“You should know why,” Sturtagaard said quietly.
“Excuse us then. Continue.” Annie rolled her eyes, angering the vampire.
“We fought so hard for our safety, for our lives. We were overrun by this hoard of demons who couldn’t be stopped. They couldn’t be killed with the weapons we had at our disposal. So many were lost. I lost so many. Until…” he stopped and looked at Annie as if she was somehow related to this recollection. His voice trailed off and, if possible, Annie thought she saw a tear roll down his cheek. Both of them looked away as if embarrassed.
“We found our way to victory, made peace with our… neighbors. But it wasn’t enough to quell the anger. My wife was gone, my child…” He pulled against the restraints again and sighed. “I blamed everyone—the coven, the king—for ruining my life. So when he came, the most beautiful man I had ever seen, I followed him and he gave me my immortality. As a vampire, I was hungry. No one was left off my revenge list. Etheldreda was first because she was an ugly old hag who cost more lives than she saved. It was almost a relief when the life left her old body. And had I been able, Anaise would have been next.” He smiled at the memory. “You would’ve liked Anaise. She was a lot like you.” He smirked.
“Good for her.”
What demons? What’s he talking about?
There were so many more questions she could ask, but she really didn’t think she wanted to know.
Annie walked to the window. In the beautiful spring day, people congregated at corner where their hotel stood. Still with little else to discuss, they pointed to the room where the Americans were staying and grew increasingly excited when Annie glanced out the window. Whispers, rumors, and half-truths—or possibly full truths—wafted up to the room, though Annie couldn’t be sure. She backed away and pulled the heavy drapes shut, plunging them into darkness.
After summoning and enlarging her field pack, she tossed it on the bed.
“Annie?” Spencer raised an eyebrow.
“They’re still talking about us, I think.” Annie said. She scrambled around the room searching for any hint or evidence that they had been there. “We need to leave.”
Spencer followed Annie around the room, retrieving all magical items. With a cleansing crystal, Spencer pulled magical energy back into the stone.
“So why didn’t you kill this Anaise?” Annie asked Sturtagaard, mostly to keep her mind from wandering back outside, to the blame that was being heaped on them.
She glanced at Sturtagaard when he didn’t answer right away. He stared at her as if she ought to know the answer. “What?” she asked.
“I couldn’t kill her. It wasn’t time. So where are we going?” Changing the subject, the vampire smirked. Annie tossed him a small jinx. “Damn it, girl!” he shouted. She strode to him, slapped him across his thousand-year-old face and shoved a gag in his mouth. After summoning a stake, she held it into his chest, pinching his skin. He startled.
“Make this hard for us and I will stake you!”
Beyond the door, footsteps clicked against the wood floors and a heavy weight plodded toward their room. A knuckle rapped against the door.
Sturtagaard’s fangs protruded from his mouth; his eyes grew wide, and he smirked. The visitor rapped again. Annie held her finger to her mouth, advising Sturtagaard to remain quiet as they levitated his chair into the armoire and closed him inside the tight space.
Backing away, Annie ran a finger through her hair, gently messing it, then pulled her collared shirt from her pants. Meanwhile, Spencer messed the bed and yanked off his shirt. When they had done what they could, Spencer opened the door. In the hallway, the day manager, Albert, stood with two police officers.
“Monsieur.” He glanced around the room at the rumpled bed, at the girl with messy hair. He coughed and cleared his throat. “Sorry for this… inter
ruption. The police have questions.”
“Sure. Sure, please come in. My wife and I were…” He glanced at Annie who shrugged and backed toward the window.
Spencer stepped away letting the men enter the already constricted room that now felt claustrophobic.
“Madame,” the police officer said with a tip of his cap. “I apologize for interrupting your… honeymoon. But we have an issue. We have several witnesses who claim you and monsieur were in town last night.”
Annie, not frightened of nonmagical police officers and unaffected by interrogations, put on a façade; she let her eyes nervously dart across the room while her hands balled into fists.
“Yes. Yes. We went to the bar. For drinks.” Her voice wavered slightly. It was all she could do to not roll her eyes.
“What’s this about?” Spencer asked.
“The bomb. I’m sure you heard the explosion?” police officer number two asked. He was taller than his partner by at least a foot. He barely fit in the small room; his head grazed the low ceiling.
“Yeah, we heard the bomb. It was hard not to. The entire block is destroyed. We weren’t able to see the damage until the next morning. It was so chaotic, smoky. What does this have to do with us?” Spencer asked. He followed Annie’s lead; where she was the shy, terrified woman, he became the angry American male. Most people trusted her more than him.
“We’re interviewing everyone in town. Anyone who saw or heard anything before and after the explosion. Did you see anyone out and about looking suspicious?”
“We were…” she glanced at Spencer. “We were walking east. I needed to clear my head. The wine.” She giggled. The sound felt foreign in her throat. As it passed her lips, Spencer nearly bit a hole in the side of his mouth to keep from laughing. Annie stared at the police officer to keep from laughing herself. “I’m sorry, we… it happened so fast. There was shuffling like running and popping and then the explosion. I just don’t remember seeing anyone.”
Annie debated whether to bring Louis Van Alton into this. She thought better of it.
We really should bring him to America with us.
The officer turned back to Spencer and handed him a card. “How long are you in the country?”
“We’re heading out tonight. We have family to visit before we go home. May I ask why that’s important?”
The police officers exchanged glances. Annie and Spencer recognized the look between partners.
They believe we’re responsible for the bomb! Annie wished she had the power of telekinesis.
“We ask, as a favor to the investigation, that you remain in town. Several witnesses saw you turn onto Pl. Saint Louis just before the explosion.”
Annie squeezed Spencer’s hand.
“Just ask us what you want to know!” Spencer ordered.
The police officers, for no other reason than height reminded Annie of Laurel and Hardy comedians, one being shorter and fatter, the other tall and lanky. Visually, they made an interesting pair.
“Did you blow up the street?”
Annie clenched both fists. “No. Why would we? What would we gain from that?”
Her voice quivered nervously, but in reality Annie channeled her anger and used it.
“Why did you go down that street?” the short officer asked. He no longer pretended to be friendly or cared to keep his temper.
“It was dark, late, people had been drinking. I highly doubt anyone from the bar saw what they say they saw. We didn’t walk down that street, and we didn’t set off the bomb. We headed east, but the bomb exploded behind us.” She couldn’t help but let her police observation enter the conversation.
Should I make them look foolish?
A clack of a shoe echoed inside the large wooden armoire used as a closet. Annie refrained from glancing at either Spencer or the closet. She held her breath.
“Did you hear that?” The tall lanky officer asked. His gaze fell to the armoire.
“Mice?” Spencer asked with a sheepish grin. Albert frowned.
“Yes, well, ma’am, we’re trying to find out who would have set that explosion. You arrived late at night and came to the hotel under mysterious circumstances. Why are you here?”
Spencer, no longer acting, strode to Annie and placed a protective arm around her shoulder, stepping between her and the men. “We’re driving through France. I was tired from driving, and we thought pulling over to get a good night’s sleep would be our best option. We couldn’t sleep and went for a walk. Just because this seems weird to you, doesn’t mean it is!”
“I assure you, we’re not singling you out. We ask all witnesses the same questions. We just want to assess why you were seen near the location of the bomb,” the tall police officer said.
Albert pressed against the door jamb and said nothing as his eyes darted from person to person, following the quick pace of the conversation. Annie thought his eyes might roll from his head.
“Coincidence,” Spencer said.
“That’s not a coincidence. What were you attempting to do?” the tall police officer asked.
“Nothing. We were near the street. We saw no one. There were several people in the bar, just before closing. A brunette and some drunk guy left before us. The rest left as the bar closed. We passed the street, walked to the wall to look at the valley and the lights, the moon light was dim and low in the sky by then. My wife needed air.”
“And you saw no one but heard popping, shuffling, and the bomb?”
“Yes,” Spencer reiterated.
The partners glanced at each other. Annie and Spencer recognized the skeptical look partners give each other when they know the witnesses are withholding information.
“We’re not accusing you. If you think of anything else, please let us know. And just note, we strongly suggest you remain here one more night. Albert will make sure you have what you need,” the short, heavier officer advised.
Both officers tipped their caps before leaving the room. Albert offered an apologetic half smile as he exited.
Spencer slammed the door after them.
Chapter 11
The air was piney, and smelled as though a rain storm had just rolled through. Amelie sniffed and hoped for iron, but there was none. She hadn’t seen a human for hours.
Battling hunger would always be a vampire’s most pressing problem. For a taste of blood, they would change their course, lie, cheat, steal, seduce.
After missing her last meal, Amelie’s blood thirst was overwhelming. It made her twitchy, mean, and sometimes reckless. The endless traipsing through the pathless forests back to Amborix did little to quench that thirst.
She glanced at her phone and reread the message: “Not now!” she grumbled. Angry, she shoved the phone in her pocket like a petulant child who didn’t get her way.
Damn Louis!
As a newly freed vampire, Amelie had reached out to Louis, a childhood friend she knew she could manipulate and use, and who would never leave her. Always loyal, weak minded, and in love with her, he was her perfect choice.
Until he set off the bomb!
It was clearly his fault that she was walking from France to Amborix, why she was rushed out of Dinan and away from the lovely sweet-smelling bodies with warm blood running through them.
Amelie easily jumped the narrow creek that cut through the thick trees. As much as she wanted bathe in her anger for Louis, to revel in it and plan his punishment, her mind wandered back to the couple who recognized who she had been once upon a time.
Who were they?
With nothing but time, she had little to do but remember. The woman’s chocolate brown hair had fallen in frizzy waves around her face. She smelled like strawberries and cream. A delicious thought came to Amelie: she was certain she would meet the woman again and wondered how she would taste. With her mind on other things, Amelie stepped downward, missed the flat, dry land, and slid her expensive leather boots into a muddy mass. The thick mud started hardening when she yanked the boot out. Amel
ie groaned and kicked her foot against a tree, scraping the mud from her foot.
“Damn it. I liked these.”
Half clean, she jumped from the mud and sniffed the air for that sweet, irony scent. She would take any living creature, if she could find one.
Shaky with the insatiable need for blood, she pressed on, nearing the end of her journey.
A small fawn, not much older than four weeks, poked around a tree trunk and stared at Amelie, frozen with fear. A smile crossed Amelie’s lips, a grotesque ugly smile with fangs poking out from the corners of her mouth. She lunged so quickly, the deer was unable to move and was overtaken easily. Her powerful thighs squeezed the deer around its soft middle; her thin strong hands squeezed the neck of the animal, pinning it against the ground. Scared, the deer thrashed about but was unable to free itself from Amelie’s grip. Its blood pumped as fear coursed through it. Amelie let out a growl.
Overpowered by the scent of blood, she leaned over the deer, sunk her teeth in the deer’s neck and sucked. The creature tasted of wet, moldy leaves and grass. She couldn’t stop, her desire insatiable. As she rubbed against the small creature, its beating heart slowed. The deer stopped thrashing and fell limp in the undergrowth. Even after it had died, Amelie continued to suck the rest of the blood.
When there was nothing left, she rolled off the deer. Dizzy, she lay in the wet underbrush and stared at the small patch of sky through the tree canopy.
The blood filled her up, satisfied the immediate need. But Amelie hadn’t learned to live in the moments of time when the clock stood nearly still. She was bored. She hated the slowness of the travel; it was in those moments that the flow of memories haunted her. Today it was all she could think of.
Home!
A distant whistle blew; it reverberated through the trees and bounced to Amelie. She sat up from the underbrush, wet with leaves in her hair and stuck to her jacket. She sniffed the air, and a faint scent of smoke and grease wafted to her. She couldn’t help but smile.
A train whistle cut the air. Amelie ran.
Branches battered her skin and scratched her cheeks and her hands. Obsessed with returning home, with the thoughts of the queen, Amelie barely registered the stinging and open wounds.
Wizard War Page 11
