“Someone’s living here,” Annie said as she ran her finger across the tabletop. It was clean.
“I smell blood. A lot of it,” Sturtagaard said. Annie had no doubt; his fangs were extended as if he were ready to clean up a mess.
If Amelie were there, she could smell Annie now, or at the least hear their click and clack against the floor. Annie grabbed Sturtagaard’s arm and teleported to the top of the staircase.
The hallway was dark, devoid of pictures or furniture. They trekked to the bedroom that faced the Mediterranean Sea. It emanated a low, dim light, just enough for Annie to see her way. She shuddered as Sturtagaard followed so closely that she could feel the icy cold that radiated from his skin; she could hear him sniff her hair. Annie turned and slapped him.
“Enough,” she whispered and continued to the bedroom door. An overwhelming stench of death filled her nostrils. Her stomach lurched when she peered into the bedroom. Three dead bodies lay scattered across the room. One was sprawled across the bed, another victim was slumped in a chair, and the final body, a child, lay on the floor near a fireplace that burned and blazed with a newly started fire.
The scene showed shades of what Amelie had done to her mother: sucking the body nearly dry and opening the vampire tracks deeper, enough to drain the remaining blood to the floor beneath them. Even Sturtagaard, a master of evil, looked on in disbelief.
“She did this to her mother. Left enough blood to pump all over,” Annie said in shock. Her voice could barely register above a whisper.
“Vampires, we don’t do this. Not anymore,” Sturtagaard announced.
Annie glared at him, disgusted. “Why don’t they, anymore?” she managed to ask.
“Most of us want to keep on living, as it were. This, this draws attention to us. The fury running through her is poisoning her.”
Annie observed him and his extended fangs. He longed to lap up the remaining blood that saturated the rugs and upholstery.
I hate him!
“Don’t think about cleaning this up,” she ordered and dialed Spencer.
“She was here,” Annie said when he answered.
“It’s the same?” he asked.
“Yeah.” Annie could barely speak, anxious that they had let her slip by again.
Or was she here before the other murders?
Spencer yanked a reluctant Louis Van Alton up the central stairs off the family home and dragged him inside to see the horror Amelie left for them.
“Oh man,” Spencer said softly. “Who are they?” he asked Louis. The nonmagical man, horrified, fell to his knees shaking and crying.
After several moments, Louis hiccoughed and looked at them. “My Aunt Marguerite, Uncle Louis, and cousin Elizabeth. She’s only a child.” His voice quivered, holding back additional tears.
Annie took another look at the girl beside the fire. She was so very young and now so cold. She placed a hand on the girl’s cheek.
“Don’t touch them, girl. Verify they’re not turned. We need to leave!” Sturtagaard ordered.
Annie pulled her hand back, surprised by his gesture. But he was right. Eventually someone would come and find the bodies. Annie and Spencer couldn’t leave any trace of their presence here.
They worked quickly, opening vials of holy water, letting the potions drop on the exposed skin. None of the bodies rose. They had clearly been killed.
“Amelie could not have made it here so quickly. She should have been weak and in hiding. Someone’s helping her,” Sturtagaard remarked.
“I’m thinking that myself,” Annie said. She glanced at Spencer, both of them worried at the prospect she had assistance.
“Who’s helping her?” Spencer asked as he yanked Louis Van Alton up from the floor, shaking him as he did. “Who’s helping her?”
“I… I…” Louis hiccoughed and sniffled. “I don’t know.”
“She made it here too quickly. I believe that.” Annie strode to the desk near the window.
“Girl, don’t touch anything!” Sturtagaard screamed.
Annie glared, summoned two gloves, and yanked them on as she examined the papers strewn across the desk, unsure of what she was looking for.
“Yes. Someone comes. I don’t know who. A woman, I think. Brown hair, maybe. I’ve seen Amelie speak with her. I swear, that’s all I know. Amelie, she… she never shared,” Louis said.
The desk was covered in bills, in letters that Amelie probably wouldn’t have read. Annie shuffled through them. A short note was attached to what looked to be a deed to the house, though without time to translate, Annie perused the letter in French. It was addressed to Aunt Marguerite and Uncle Louis Van Alton, signed, ‘Yours, M.’
“Who’s M?” Annie asked.
“M? I don’t know who that is,” Louis said.
“Whoever it was, addressed them as aunt and uncle. Could it be a cousin, maybe?” Annie asked, irritated at the man.
“I… I don’t know. I swear,” he said. “Maybe it was Marguerite’s side of the family,” he added hopefully.
Annie pocketed the letter and contract. “We need to go,” she said. She grabbed Sturtagaard’s wrist and dragged him from the house.
Spencer pulled Louis after them. They met behind the storage shed at the edge of the property.
Annie pushed up against Louis. Her arm across his neck, she pinned him to the wall.
“You begged to eat. You kept us from coming here. You knew they lived here. Why? Why did you let Amelie kill them?” Annie shouted.
“Annie, no!” Spencer yanked her shoulder, but she pulled it back.
“I… I didn’t know,” Louis stammered.
“Bullshit. Who’s helping her? Who’s M? Amelie could not have reached this house so fast, even with her vampire speed. Are you a wizard?”
Annie pushed harder on his neck. He struggled to breathe.
“Not here,” Spencer hissed.
“Girl, we need to go. Where to?” Sturtagaard asked roughly.
“French Wizard Guard. We need help.” Annie glanced at Spencer who nodded.
“We can’t go there! I can’t go there!” Sturtagaard shouted.
“If you want back in, you go where we say you go,” Annie said. She released her hold on Louis and sent a quick text to Cham and Milo: Amelie killed again. We’re heading to the French Wizard Guard. Please alert them.
Chapter 18
Annie yawned. It had been a long day chasing the vampire. But there was still much to do, and the day wouldn’t end yet. “I’m sorry. I wish this was done and I could come home. But she’s…” She watched the crowds still growing at all of the elevators taking tourists to the top of the Eiffel Tower.
“Annie?” Cham asked on the other end of the phone when she stopped midsentence.
“Yeah. Sorry. I’m watching the crowds we’ll have to navigate in order to get into the French Wizard Guard. It’s really thick,” she said while stifling another yawn.
“Be careful,” Cham said. A door swooshed open on his end of the line. He pulled the phone from his mouth and spoke with someone who sounded male.
“Sorry. I just got to the Hall. Manny says hi,” Cham announced.
“You feeling okay?” Thinking of his accident, of the walls closing in on him, the smoke that billowed and rose around her while she watched Bitherby teleport him out of the burning dormitory—it all made her shudder. She wondered if it ever would stop.
“I’m on desk duty, remember. Sorta managing you and Spencer. It’ll be fine. I’m just worried about you,” he said. Annie sighed and glanced at the Eiffel Tower. The famous landmark was packed with tourists waiting to climb the tower.
And we have to get in from there.
“And Milo got you the instructions to get in the French Wizard Guard?” Cham asked after he passed the security desk.
“Yeah. They were very specific. We need to get on the west elevator alone. They gave us the spells to use. I’m just not so sure we’ll be able to make it work. Not with the vampire
and the nonmagical… you know.” She lowered her voice. The crowds had grown larger since they arrived.
“And your head?” Cham asked. Annie could picture him entering the back hallway to the elevators on his way to the fifth floor.
“I’m cured of the concussion. Even my arm is healed. I promise, I’m fine. We’ll call if we need you to come. The French Wizard Guard should be plenty of backup.” Exhaustion seeped into Annie. Crisscrossing Europe expended so much magical energy. She could drop where she stood.
I just want Cham.
Louis fidgeted beside her. If she had her way, she’d jinx him. He was getting on her nerves.
While they mulled around a bench pretending to be tourists, Spencer prepared a mind manipulation spell to get past the hordes of people wanting to get on the elevator.
Sturtagaard, sat calmly and glanced at them periodically, sneering or snickering when it suited him; he was highly amused at their plight.
“I need to go,” Annie sighed when Spencer gave her the hand signal.
“I love you,” Cham said.
“I love you,” Annie replied and hung up the phone.
She felt Sturtagaard’s glare, his eyes penetrating and dark, his nostrils flared. Not in the mood, she scowled. He shrugged.
“How bad does the west elevator look?” Annie asked Spencer, who was looking at their target through a camera.
“It’s late but the crowds are still lingering. Go ahead and start walking. I’ll chant the spell when we get there,” he said slipping the camera around his neck. “Ready?” he asked apprehensively.
“I’m ready.” Annie turned to Louis. “You keep your mouth shut and do what we say. Do you understand?” she whispered with intensity. Louis nodded quickly.
Annie linked arms with him. He was sweaty from fear. It radiated off of him in a bitter stink. Grimacing, she led him toward the tower, blending themselves into the crowd and matching the flow.
When they were safely inside the fences and in line, Spencer and Sturtagaard followed.
Annie glanced at the crowd, which was still growing larger as they entered the line. Her discomfort made her anxious; she wondered how they were going to make this work.
This seems like a lot of work to enter the hall!
She caught sight of Spencer and an uninterested Sturtagaard as they took their place in line. Looking away she glanced at the odd little man beside her. His purple hat had a bright red feather sticking up from the band. He smiled at her with crooked teeth before returning to his map of Paris.
After learning the instructions for entering the hall, both Annie and Spencer thought the arrangement was odd. It was so much easier to enter a courtyard and walk inside.
Annie sighed and glanced upwards. The Eiffel Tower wasn’t the tallest structure she had ever seen, but it towered over everything else in the vicinity. The angle overwhelmed her; she was dizzy looking up at the angles and lights.
I wish this wasn’t business.
Ten more tourists slid into the elevator. The doors closed with efficiency, sending the elevator upwards.
Annie peered around the couple in front of her and realized they were only four groups from being able to enter the elevator. She held her breath as all four groups squeezed themselves inside, leaving her and Louis next in line.
Louis fidgeted beside her, she squeezed his wrist and offered him an annoyed glance.
The elevator returned to ground level and the doors slid open. A large group of tourists exited, leaving plenty of room for Annie and Louis. While Annie held the elevator open, Spencer used the first of the spells advised by the French Wizard Guard, which warded off passengers from following them inside.
Once Spencer arrived safely with the vampire beside him, Annie released the door hold and watched it slide shut. If those who had been waiting noticed how few people were inside, they didn’t express any anger at losing their turn.
With her hand held over the speaker box, the same one that allowed nonmagicals to speak to the security staff, Annie cast the second spell, sending the elevator speeding underground and leaving the tourists above them in a suspended animation.
The ride was quick and smooth; the cement walls flew by in a blur. Annie held on to the sides of the elevator, bracing for impact, but the elevator landed like a feather on a pillow.
The doors opened to a hallway, lit with electric sconces that would guide them to the end of the hall and the front entrance of the French Wizard Hall. After they stepped out of the elevator, the doors slid shut and the box shot up to street level as if it never left. Those waiting for the elevator would remain unaware of the machine’s detour or that any time had passed at all.
Though Annie thought it was a lot of work to enter the hall, she was impressed by the spell that had been well crafted in 1899, ten years after the Eiffel Tower was built. In all that time, the cloaking spell allowed the wizard community’s use of the tower as means to access their Wizard Hall without detection.
“That was easier than I expected,” Spencer said as he led Sturtagaard down the hallway.
Annie followed with Louis, though the nonmagical needed to be tugged along. His right shoe scraped against the floor as though he knew it was time to pay for his sins.
Though the hallway was nondescript, with a gray cement floor and matching walls, the entrance to the French Wizard Hall was made up of impressive ten-foot-tall wooden doors. Much like those to the library in the American Wizard Hall, these doors were also hand carved with pictures and scenes, but these were of French magical history: battles fought, demons that roamed the countryside. Annie did a double take when she saw one carving of a girl that seemed to resemble her. Like in the carving in America, the girl held down a demon with her foot while holding a sword in the air.
“Ah… I think it’s the same door maker who made our library doors. Look at this,” Annie said as she pointed to the girl.
“That looks like the same scene. Maybe it was made by the same craftsman,” Spencer agreed. “You ready to deal with them?”
Annie grimaced. Though Milo hadn’t relayed everything to her regarding his phone conversation with the French Wizard Guard, he implied that his conversation to them involved more of the same accusations that were leveled against her by the Amborix Wizard Guard. Milo had explicitly warned her to be careful, be aware of her surroundings, and trust no one. Annie knew yet another Wizard Guard unit was not eager to deal with the vampire princess who had died eight months ago.
I’m over dealing with her too.
“I’ll be fine,” Annie said as she placed her hand up against an ancient wooden box to the right of the door and cast a spell. The doors squeaked open, slowly revealing a small reception room with a security desk manned by a woman named Delphine, as per the name tag on her left lapel of her smart business suit. Above her name was a small silver pin, etched with what Annie recognized as the Wizard Stamp, a triangle with a wand at the center. The letters FWG were engraved on each side of the shape.
That doesn’t draw attention?
Delphine smiled coolly as Annie and Spencer removed their Wizard Guard identification, three-and-a-half-inch-wide silver medallions that were etched with the title Wizard Guard across the top and Chicago, U.S. at the bottom. Both Annie and Spencer had five gems encased in a row at the center signifying they were both Level Five wizard guards. The other side of their identification folder, encased in plastic, included their personal identification: name, age, date of birth, Wizard Hall home location, and picture.
Delphine took their badges and scrutinized their authenticity. She handed back Spencer’s quickly and looked from Annie’s badge, back to her face.
“You’re a Level Five?” Delphine asked coolly.
“Yes. If you have concerns about the authenticity, please feel free to contact the U.S. Wizard Hall. They’ll verify,” Annie said.
Delphine glanced one more time at Annie’s badge before handing it back. “You seem awfully young to be a Level Five, yes?”
Though Annie was four years younger than Spencer, she’d had a bit of a head start on her Wizard Guard training. Both she and Cham began their studies while still at Windmere School of Wizardry in their senior year, a feat only accomplished by the two of them. Added to that, their scores on their entrance exam to the guard had been high, plus Annie had studied for a grueling potion master’s exam and passed with one of the highest scores ever. All those achievements rendered her a Level Five. Most wizard guards at the age of 23 would hover near a Level Three and conclude their career at Level Ten.
Trying to appear humble, Annie packed her identification inside her jacket and watched Delphine observe their cohorts.
“And your companions?” Her thick French accent reverberated off of the hard surfaces of the reception room.
“This is the vampire Sturtagaard, and this is Louis Van Alton. As of yesterday, he was the nonmagical paramour of Princess Amelie of Amborix.”
Delphine’s eyes raised in surprise. Annie would have guessed it had nothing to do with the vampire or the nonmagical; rather, it had everything to do with the fact that the princess hadn’t died but was turned.
“I see. That is a problem. Of course.” She offered a smile as she summoned an item from the drawer in her desk. Walking to Sturtagaard, he took a step back.
“What’s that?” he asked staring at the metal collar she held.
“You do not think we would let the Sturtagaard into our Wizard Hall without protection, do you?”
“This wasn’t part of the deal,” he sneered.
“Their house, their rules,” Annie said and placed a stake at the base of his heart.
Sturtagaard grimaced as Delphine placed a metal collar around his neck. It was thick and heavy. If he neared a human and tried to suck or bite, the metal would hinder his ability to do so. Any time this collar touched human skin, it would send electric shocks to the vampire. Delphine clicked the collar tightly in place.
“Now you.” She changed her tone, making it slightly flirtatious as she checked the simple cuffs around Louis’s wrists. They were still tight and constricted his movements.
Wizard War Page 17
