by Ruby Raine
“No, because supposedly, if the body of a witch is burned after death, their magic is said to return and strengthen the bloodline. Who knows if that’s true or not,” rattled Melinda.
Lizzy shrugged. “Whether true or not, Charlotte did not go with the tradition. And they obliged her final request. She specifically wanted a ground burial. She’s in The Demon Isle Cemetery. Probably not much of a headstone left after all these years. Or, knowing Charlotte, it’s mystifyingly pristine.”
That got a few chuckles.
Michael held up a page from another Howard history book. It was a map of the cemetery, including the names of all the non-witch Howard family buried there. The ones who married into the family but were not from the witch bloodline. It also included members of the Deane family, non-witch and witch, as even though their bodies were burned after death as well, they’d never built a mausoleum like the Howard’s had done.
Lizzy grabbed it and looked it over. Her breath catching at seeing a name she recognized. “Mathew...” It had been such a long time. She looked up to see everyone staring at her. “An old friend. He died far too young. Before I was ghasted. Actually, the same day I met Grayson. But I miss Mathew like he died yesterday.”
“He was a witch?” asked Melinda.
“Yeah. The clumsiest and most loveable witch I’d ever known. Would have been a master potion maker had he lived longer. And been permitted to practice his craft more freely.”
“How do you mean?” asked Michael. “Witches made potions in your time, too.”
“Yes, but it was considered one of those jobs for the ladies,” she jabbed. “Men learned some basic knowledge about making potions, but they were expected to fight. Be the protectors. If Mathew and I could have switched roles, I think we’d each have been much happier. And he was an inventor really. Had a keen, scientific way of thinking of potions. Back in my day, the elders of the community did not see the value in mixing science with witchcraft.”
“It was such a different time,” Melinda said. “Crazy to think about, I imagine even crazier to have lived then, and now.”
“Times have changed, no doubt. Mostly for the better. My father first taught me potion making, but anything cool I learned about potions, I learned from Mathew Bishop.” His name rolled off her tongue fondly.
Lucas coughed, and cleared his throat. “Bishop? Mathew Bishop?” he repeated incredulously.
“Yes.” Lizzy cocked her head, the look on her brother’s face unreadable. And yet it was distressing for some reason.
“He wasn’t a Howard or a Deane?” queried Michael. “I didn’t realize that was even a thing.”
“It didn’t happen often, but now and again a witch family would come to live on the Isle. Sometimes, just for a while. It was sort of a safe haven. As safe as things got for witches at the time. Mathew was the last in his line. When he died, followed by his father a few years later, the line ended. Sad really. He might not have been the best witch, but there were few who matched his honor or loyalty.”
“Were you in love with him?” Courtney had a twinkle in her eye.
Lizzy shook her head. “No. No, it wasn’t like that between us. It never would have been. Mathew wasn’t into me. Nor I him. Not in a romantic way. Lucas?” she threw his name at him. He was looking pale and like he was about to fall over a cliff or something. “Are you okay?”
“Um, yeah. Fine. Sorry.” He shook his head, some of his color returning.
“You didn’t just have a traveling thingy did you?” asked Melinda.
“No. No, not that. Just a weird, déjà vu kind of thing. Coincidence I’m sure, I had a, um... friend... same name. Mathew Bishop. He moved away a few weeks before I came to the Isle.” Melinda swore his words carried a bitter sort of sadness.
“Fairly common name I’d imagine,” noted Michael. From the look on his face, he was picking up the same emotion Melinda had heard in his words, but let it go. Wasn’t his business.
“Sorry, Lizzy, I didn’t mean to interrupt. You were saying?” Lucas looked frayed, refusing eye contact with Melinda though she attempted to catch his eye.
“Oh, well, Mathew was a really special guy. My best friend. I would have done almost anything to see him happy.” It was still hard to think about, even after all this time. The happiness her friend had never expected to find. She hoped he was happy in his afterlife. And at peace.
“So, um, we have a map. Any reason to go to the cemetery?” Michael put forth, getting them back on topic.
“No,” Lizzy responded. “I don’t honestly think any of this helps our cause. I was hoping for more about her magical gifts, but nothing is listed that wasn’t already public knowledge. And what I’m looking for is an ability to see into the future.”
“She sure did seem to guess a lot of things right,” conceded Michael.
“Kind of scary right,” Melinda chorused.
“And yet none of this helps me figure out how to break the curse.” Lizzy set the book aside. Overwhelmed, exhausted, her brain overloaded with memories and uncertainty. The air in the room becoming too thick, and too hot. And chances were, even if Charlotte did possess some gift of foresight, she must have kept it hidden.
“Want me to take you home, Lizzy?” asked Lucas, determined he would whether she wanted to or not. She wasn’t the only one who needed a little air. However, she put up no fight.
“Yeah. I need to do that now.”
She hurried out of the study needing fresh air and a mega dose of clarity.
A LONG TIME AGO ON an island not so far away...
Lisbeth Deane found the beach she was searching for. It wasn’t difficult, just took a little while as the path to it was overridden with boulders, jutting roots, and fallen trees. But it was the only place to be alone for a time. And listen to the waves. Let her sadness get carried away with each pass out to sea.
She plunked down on a small plot of sand uncaring if it got all over her dress.
The impact released an instant stream of tears.
This was her crying beach. The only place she ever shed a tear... never did she do this in public, or around her father. It was a sign of weakness and something she could not afford to do.
Kindness, sympathy, comfort, tears threatening to surface; these were safe emotions. But to actually cry in front of anyone was not acceptable.
Damn it, she was going to miss Mathew. So very much.
His life torn away in a blink by a single act of bravery. Or complete lack of faith in any true self-worth. Either, equally painful. But hopefully he was happy now. At peace. Safe. Loved.
Too late of course, it was sinking in just how true a friend he had become. Not that she took him for granted, but not having him around these last few days had been hell. She never felt more alone. She had her father, the other students and witches.
And Charlotte, who she no longer called friend after her abhorrent behavior.
But without Mathew to confide in, there was an emptiness she had no idea how to fill. Looking into her future, there was no filling it. There was no one on this island who understood her.
Maybe this would change.
But tonight, she simply missed her friend.
A sob caught her as her head sank into her hands.
Her watery eyes caught movement to her right.
She sucked in a sob and managed to climb to her feet unsteadily.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” Her voice shook, the sobs unwilling to stop.
It was the vampire, Grayson Moone.
Doing nothing at all but returning an intense stare like the sight of her in this state was some personal torment.
“Please go away,” she begged. “Or should I be running for my life?” she squeezed out.
“I am not here to hurt you. I swear it.” For some messed up reason, she believed him.
“Whatever on this earth has made you cry so?”
“Why haven’t you left the Isle?” She wasn’t about to share why she was upset wit
h him.
“Why haven’t you told anyone about me?” he returned.
More guilt, to top the pile of immense sadness. She should have told, but had not. Keeping him to herself. Why had she done it? There was still no logical reason.
“Wait, how do you know I have not told?”
“I have not been hunted, or driven away. I’m still alive.” He approached, his entire body stiff with unease. “Please, tell me what has upset you. Although, I must admit, if you claim it be another living thing I may have to tear it to pieces for causing you such pain.”
“You’re a vampire. Why should you care of the woes of one human girl?”
“You are not a girl. And as to why, I’m not sure I fully understand the why. Only that I find myself compelled. You are... interesting to me. In a manner no other female of the species has ever been before. Vampire or human.”
“I am merely a witch. Nothing more. There is little to be interested by. Especially to the likes of a man who has lived as long as you have.”
He grinned, a touch a smugness. “You called me a man.”
“You are male. I was generalizing. And that was not my point.” She sniffled, her sobs more controlled, her face red and splotchy. Regardless, she was not about to back down to this vampire.
“You still did not answer the why,” he pointed out.
“Why I didn’t speak of you?” She stalled, unsure of the truth, even in her own heart and mind. “I suppose it was because you did not hurt me. Or anyone else. If you do though, I will not hesitate. And... there was something genuine in your words.” A shameful admittance, and probably naïve.
“I like that you speak the truth. You are honest. And forthright. Not a quality you see enough of these days.”
“I imagine that is a truth anywhere on this earth.” A reality she was quickly becoming all too familiar with.
He stepped with purposeful caution, approaching her. She tried not to flinch at his movement, but trust and vampires was not an easy thing to accept. Or expect.
“I only wish to offer comfort, My Lisbeth.” His voice was deep and penetrating straight to her core.
“Why do you call me that? You don’t know me. I’m not... yours. I’m not anyone’s.” Her response sounded weak and pathetic, even to her.
“I plan to make you mine.” His tone warned he already thought of her as his, it was only a matter of time until she’d come to believe it too.
Lisbeth’s eyed widened. “I would rather die than become like you. I am a witch. With responsibilities. You are a... a... a killer. Even if in your mind they are humans who deserve it.”
Hurt. Inexplicable hurt in his charcoal eyes.
For some reason, this shot a stab of guilt into her gut. But she refused to back down, entirely.
“I’m sure you don’t see yourself as a monster, Grayson Moone. But I could never condone a life of killing in order to feed, and live, even if it is from sadistic humans, as you say.”
“Would you not kill to survive?”
“Oh, no, we’re not spinning this subject around to me! If I were attacked, I would defend myself, of course. If I knew of true evil hell bent on killing innocent lives, then yes, it is part of my job to protect those lives. But never for my own personal gain.”
“Is that how you see vampires? We kill for our own gain? Hmm. Narrow minded view. Perhaps I was wrong about you.”
Her hands landed on her hips, “Now look here.”
He closed the gap between them. “No. You pay heed to my words. I never asked to be turned into this monster whose skin I’m forced to wear. I have no control over the need for blood to survive. I would never do so willingly if there was another way.”
“Others of your kind don’t think like you do,” she pushed out, determined to stand her ground, which was difficult when it swayed a bit under her feet. The vampire so up close and personal made her unsteady.
“Like living off animals?” he scoffed. Like she had suggested during their first meeting.
“Well, why not? It’s blood.”
“Technically...”
“Do you...” she paused, getting her courage. “Do you find my blood appealing?”
“I find all human blood appealing.” An honest answer. “But yours has a most delectable fragrance.” His eyes closed, breathing her in. “Like wildflowers and whiskey. Like untamed woman.” His gaze trailed down her body in a manner that stated untamed was his favorite flavor. Her knees wobbled and she forced them to stiffen and hold her weight.
“You speak as if we have some sort of future together. I am a human.”
“Not a concern for me.”
“Right. Of course not,” she scoffed. “Can I trust you not to... drink from me? Or is this just how you do it? Play some game of, oh, look, what a sweet, innocent human girl, let’s make her think I’m different than all the other vampires. Make her think she can trust me. And just when she gives in you,” there was a disgruntled growl and Lisbeth found herself wrapped in the vampire’s arms, her feet a few inches off the ground, the tips of her toes barely reaching the tops of his feet.
His arms held her firmly against him, but gentle enough not to injure her delicate body. His gaze possessed hers, silencing her outward and inner thoughts. His eyes never once flickered to her vein, only locked onto hers as if trying to prove his sincerity.
To her dismay, her body relaxed under his grip. Why couldn’t her body and mind agree this was the most terrible idea ever?
“You have no idea how tempting a woman you are, do you? And I do not mean your blood.”
“Tempting is not the word most men use to describe me.”
“No. They wouldn’t. You frighten them because you’re their equal. They don’t understand how to handle you.” Not like I can, she was sure he added silently.
Instead, her brain got stuck on, “You see me as their equal?”
“And so do they. But unlike me, they’re not willing to admit it. It might knock their precious egos down a peg.”
This was all so very, very wrong. She’d come here to mourn.
And now was locked in the arms of a vampire who didn’t seem willing to let her go.
A vampire! With a conscience. It was not easy to fathom.
She should not let her guard down so easily. Was she so desperate for this hole Mathew’s death had left in her soul to be filled, even a little, she’d resort to a friendship with a vampire?
“You should put me down,” she spoke as firmly as possible.
“I intend to. Eventually.”
She fidgeted under his grasp.
“Once you tell me why you are saddened so? What drove you to this place?”
A wave of grief washed over her at the thought of poor Matthew. This wasn’t pain she shared, nevertheless, her body betrayed her again, the sadness obvious. Another gasp and flutter of movement later, Lisbeth was cradled in Grayson’s arms as if he was planning on carrying her somewhere. She demanded he put her down at once. Of course, he did not. Instead, he sat on the sandy beach leaving her cuddled against him in his lap.
He eyed her sternly. “Now, tell me. Or if you prefer I can force it out of you.”
“Your vampire persuasion doesn’t work on witches you know?”
“I am aware. I am hoping my smoldering eyes, dashing grin, or charming wit will do the trick.” She lowered her head and gave a short laugh. An actual laugh. “See, I’m squeezing my way into your heart already.”
Not one to give up the upper hand, or be told what to do, Lisbeth decided to make a move to knock the cocky vampire down a peg. She lifted her head, leaned in, and kissed him.
She really should have thought that through.
His shock was instant, an icy hitching of breath underneath her lips. His exhale, as if something most exquisite, and heavenly, was happening.
In another air sucking flash of movement, Lisbeth was on her back with the vampire stretching out over her proving he was in charge. And oddly, although her heart was raci
ng like a runaway horse, she was not afraid of him. The kiss meant to prove she had some control over the situation had somehow got flipped around, and now she wanted him to kiss her.
He did.
Passionately. Reverently. Wickedly.
And then he hissed and was upward, on his knees peering down at her.
Lisbeth lay there, breathless in the sand, staring up at flat black eyes so hungry they sucked the rest of her breath away.
“You’re not so safe around me at all, are you?”
“No. But I dare say I must make myself so as I am smitten. Dead heart, and no soul. These things are no longer owned by me, they all belong to you.”
She kept still. Didn’t make any unexpected moves having tempted fate enough for one night. Surprisingly, she liked the way he was all possessing of her. The words he spoke were unlike anything she’d ever heard uttered from any other man. She’d have accepted his actions from no other, but from this vampire...
Curses!
She was all kinds of messed up if she thought this was acceptable.
And still, she didn’t try to escape.
Grayson calmed, his dark gaze lightening, the hunger for her still present though.
“Come back to me,” she whispered, barely recognizing her own voice.
He gazed down, stunned by her request. But he did so, cautiously. She caressed his face, drew her fingers across every plane. Each draw of her fingers akin to a hellish torture.
“You’re an exquisite specimen, Grayson Moone.”
“No, that title is yours to hold. I am but a shell of a man. A thing, living in a body designed to take down my prey.” He’d said that before, it held new meaning now. More like, tear down all the walls she always kept so securely in place.
“You really don’t want to be a monster, do you?”
He did not. He craved companionship. A normal life, as normal as possible. His eyes closed, daring to dream of finding it. If only for a time. Lips came up to his and he claimed them right back as if it hurt to let go. But he did let go before it became too much temptation.
“Please don’t say something stupid, like I’ll be the man who tames you...”
