“Where’s Valek?” asked Sasha, tugging a smart-looking suede vest over his shoulders broad as cliffs. He looked handsome.
“Coming.” Valek’s bourbon voice came from within the library before he emerged into the foyer looking scruffier than Charlotte had ever seen him. “I’m coming,” he sighed most unhappily.
He pulled on his own overcoat, ascot missing, hair a mess around his shoulders. Noticing her staring, he offered a cursory smile down at her, the light in his eyes dull and tired.
“Morning,” he breathed, and the greeting smelled of sweet pipe smoke. Cherry tobacco.
His hair was loose around alpine cheekbones, rather than tied back by the usual ribbon.
The overcoat from his three-piece suit was unbuttoned, his ivory shirt undone past his
collarbone. His suspenders hung down around his hips. Even disheveled looked good on
him, but it was so out of character.
“Looks like you’ve been busy,” Charlotte whispered.
“Preoccupied. Patient files…” His explanation was curt—too flimsy. She knew he was lying.
Peering around him, she saw the thick spine of The Anatomy of Vampires: Volume Two glaring back at her. It sat cockeyed atop the mantel, one of the pages dog-eared. A tight squeeze around the top of her arm forced her glare up to his again.
“After so many years, I could almost read your mind,” she grumbled.
The corners of his mouth turned down guiltily. “How are you fee—”
“I’m fine,” she snapped, shutting down the conversation before it could begin. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“We will talk later, then.”
“I’ll hold you to it,” she challenged under her breath.
“Right, everyone! Look alive!” said Sarah. But blinking around at the gruesome faces, she amended, “Well…as alive as you can, I suppose. Here we go!”
She pulled open the front door and herded the parade of ghouls out into the winter morning.
It dawned cold and hazy. A thin veil of mist draped across the treetops. A fresh blanket of snow covered the lawn and naked rose bushes, making the world outside appear as some twinkling, foreign planet.
Lusian’s hissing titter broke through the quiet as he tailed the group.
“Don’t even think about it,” snapped Dusana and Charlotte craned her head around in time to see him drop another massive snowball near his feet, pouting.
It was a short walk through the trees. A dirt path soon turned into a cobblestone road. Up ahead, the square was already full. In fact, Charlotte had only seldom seen it so busy, but their town was different now.
She noticed the absence of some types of Occult denizens… That’s to say, there were no Light creatures left. No Elves. No Fae. No Imps. None of the sects belonging to what was considered Light magickind.
No possible sympathizers to the Regime. They’d all fled.
Creatures and monsters still left in their occult city after the uprising were darker Shape-shifters (werewolves, and such nefarious creatures), Witches, Ogres, and of course…their coven of Vampires. They’d all crowded in the square now for the grand opening.
Shimmering garland, like the stuff Sarah draped down the staircase banister, wound up to the tops of each lamppost. The string-less lanterns which usually hovered over the center of the square, had been replaced with floating paper stars, gold light from within shimmering through cobalt paper. Dozens of the Witches and Ogres clamored near the doors of Brouka General Store, still closed.
They would open at eight on the spot, Charlotte recalled. She peered down at her wristwatch: 7:56.
In the meantime, merry fiddle-music played by a quartet of talented avian Shifters enlivened the arcades. The fountain in the center of the square gushed, icicles forming inverted silver crowns around its three tiers. Large canvas signs hung over either end of the square, announcing the grand opening in curling indigo letters.
Charlotte missed the Bohemian Occult City so completely while they’d been away that it
warmed her to see it in a happier state now. Some inhabitants gathered in clumps, laughing loudly over their morning pastries, some wandering to peak into windows of neighboring shops. It all reminded her of a simpler time.
Sarah drew a great, shuddering breath of excitement. “This…is…fabulous! Would you look at this turnout!” she cheered with fists clenched in front of her face.
The spider and Edwin did a brilliant job plastering flyers all about town. Charlotte had done her best to sketch Mr. Třínožka and the boy made of buttons and burlap standing in front of the shoppe looking happy. Sarah manufactured at least one hundred copies of the flyer with her enchanted sewing needle and some simple duplication spell.
“Burlap Boy Brew!” Ludo’s voice jounced through the crowd’s enthusiastic babbling. “Get yer Burlap Boy Brew right here!”
Charlotte skipped over to his stand, curious. “Hi, Ludo!”
“Charlotte! How ya feelin’, lass? Everything alright this mornin’?”
She forced a smile, his question making her stomach twist. “Sleep made it better. I think we’re all just a little on-edge,” she said awkwardly. “How’s your arm?”
It was still cradled in the sling.
“Fine, fanks! Doin’ well enough without the use of it today, anyway. We should both be good as new with Valek lookin’ after!”
Time to change the subject. “Yeah…uh…so, what have you concocted today?”
“Gotta keep up wit current events.” He handed off a paper cup wrapped in a strip of burlap to another waiting Wood Sprite. Two handles from sprigs of rock candy jutted out of the foam. Glued to the top of their wooden knobs were shiny black buttons, no doubt meant to resemble Edwin’s eyes.
“Brilliant. I never thought anyone would try to capitalize off Edwin,” she giggled. “Who knew he’d become the town celerity?”
“Well, I tried to think up somefin’ for Třínožka too, but spiders aint all that appetizin’, as it turns out.” He pulled a new cup and started filling it with hot, butterscotch-scented coffee. “Wanna try? It’s on the house, a course.”
“None for me thanks—”
“I’d like one!” said Sarah from behind her and she dropped three hellars over Ludo’s kiosk counter.
“You don’ have ta—”
“Must support our local artisans, mustn’t we?” She folded her hands in front of herself. “Please. Take it. And make mine a strong one.”
His maple-leaf cheeks fluttered as he grinned and proceeded to whip up Sarah’s latte.
“Didn’t know you were much on coffee, Sarah,” quipped Charlotte.
“Been a late night and an early morning, love. Not to mention, I’ve got a bit of a hangover.”
Her smile was suspicious—a lot of thought behind it. Maybe she’d been helping Valek with the secrets of that dreaded book. Charlotte didn’t recall much after everything went black. Voices filtered in and out while she tried to wake herself up a few times. She remembered being carried upstairs, but it wasn’t by Valek. One of Mr. Třínožka’s massive
arms cradled her as he scurried up and into Valek’s room while she’d ebbed in and out of consciousness. Sarah had been there too, pressing something damp against her forehead. But that was it. Charlotte fell into a dreamless sleep until about five in the morning when she opened her eyes to find the other side of the bed empty. But she’d been too queasy to go downstairs and investigate.
As if he’d been listening to her mind—and he probably was—Charlotte felt Valek come up behind her.
“Sarah…are you the one responsible for decorating the square?” he asked offhandedly.
“It is I!” She chirruped, sipping her coffee and giggling. “I snuck out—was here til at least two in the morning.”
“Lovely work,” Valek said before throwing a narrowed look down at Charlotte, as if to prove Sarah was indeed not helping him with whatever kind of research that preoccupied him last night.
/> Valek… she thought at him warningly. But he looked away, pretending he wasn’t tuned in to her mind at all.
Self-playing trumpets blared a triumphant fanfare from the doors of Brouka General Store. At last. They were answered by eight prompt chimes from both clock towers at either corner of the square, their different melodies complimenting one another.
“Guys!” Dusana beckoned the three of them back over to a denser part of the crowd thronging toward the entry now.
From the other side of the glass, Charlotte noticed Mr. Třínožka unlocking the doors. He met her eye, waving broadly at them with one of his non-spidery hands.
Bursts of cheers and applause erupted from the crowd, and when the store was finally opened, the uproar swelled, flocks of screech owls flying up and out from the entry. They did circles and flips in the air before diving back inside the shop to collect their prize—a fresh rat, no doubt. Green and purple sparks flashed at either side of the GRAND RE- OPENING sign.
“Oops! Excuse me! Pardon me! Coming through!” Sarah weaseled her way closer to Charlotte again, her sewing needle unsheathed from its hiding place in her hair. She jabbed the point at Mr. Třínožka. “Magna!” she chanted.
A little flash of light flew from the point of it, landing near the spider’s mustache just in time:
“Ladies and beasts!” His voice swelled in great volume around the square. Bouts of laughter bubbled up in response to the nature of his greeting. “Thank ya so much fer attendin’ our grand re-openin’. Edwin and I ‘re quite proud wif what we done ta the place! We hope you all like it! All Shifter’s salve can be found near the spell books on the second floor. Stones er on sale and we ask ya don’t uncage the spooks. If ya need assistance, come an’ find it! So… without any further stalin’…welcome to the new and improved Brouka General Store!”
Waving his two left arms wide to welcome people in, he hobbled aside. Dozens of occult creatures rushed the entrance while some hung back to enjoy the morning and fiddle music a while longer.
“Poor Edwin,” Jorge folded his arms, amusement creating dimples in his marble cheeks. “Not good with crowds, is he? Seems quite overwhelmed.”
From beyond the windows, Charlotte saw the ragdoll boy looking quite frantic, turning about hordes of customers, asking questions, pointing out new products, trying his best to remain calm. His bow-tie was already askew.
Sarah squeaked. “You’re right! I should go help him!”
Charlotte was about to say something clever, but Sarah was small enough to easily wiggle her way through wings and horns and claws and shoulders until she disappeared inside the shop.
“I see what you did there,” Charlotte said to Jorge knowingly.
“It’s not my fault. Her thoughts were entirely too loud.” He winked down at her.
“Why’s everyone so excited about some dumb little shop opening?” Lusian drawled, resulting in a hard punch in the arm from Dusana.
CRACK!
Everything went white. Charlotte ducked, momentarily blinded. Her stomach jumped into her throat. Nerves sparking, the jolt of adrenaline created a ringing in her ears.
They’re back. Valek. It came as a frantic thought.
She couldn’t find her voice as she waited for the square to come back into focus. She blinked furiously as the spots in her vision dissipated, her fingers reaching, her heart hammering.
At once, she felt Valek’s arms wrap around her shoulders, tugging her close to his chest.
“They’re back,” she finally whispered out loud.
He hushed her, his mouth pressed near her ear. “No, Lottie. They aren’t….”
All sets of frosty Vampire eyes were on her, but why weren’t they reacting? Cold swept over her from the top of her head to her toes as she shuddered.
“A-Aiden—”
“Charlotte,” Valek said more seriously, though his tone remained hushed.
Pulling her away from his chest, he kept his grip on either side of her face and bent to her eye level. She blinked at him—the beautiful vision of him, unscathed under the bright morning sun. Around them, the music continued. Happy conversation went on. Nothing was amiss.
“We’re safe. You see?”
Intense worry turned down the corners of his mouth and slanted his eyebrows. It took a minute for Charlotte’s pulse to calm. She pulled out of his grasp, turning toward the direction where the flash of light had come from.
Aiden wasn’t there. Not a single Elf. No officers. No hurtling blasts of fire. Everyone looked unfazed, except each member of her coven family stayed fixated on her with the same concerned expression.
“All right, Charlotte?” chanted the twins.
“Y-yes. Sorry…”
She shoved her hands in her coat pockets to hide her quivering white fingers, inhaling to steady herself.
“Over here! Look at me!” A foreign voice called.
CRACK!
There was another bright flash at the edge of the crowd. This time, it was near Mr. Třínožka. A thick plume of smoke wafted up over everyone’s heads.
“What is that?” Charlotte flinched, shielding her eyes from the sun glaring brighter now.
The clouds had gone, leaving a clear blue morning.
“Perfect!” The strange man said loudly. “Now, state your name, please….”
In any other setting, he would have seemed rather frightening with greasy-looking skin, a greenish-gray color. His eyes were bulgy. His mustache was the color of ink, the ends growing all the way down to his hips like dragon whiskers. His suit was brown and though he was a small man, it was still baggy on him. Atop his head was a matching homburg with a quill pen tucked into the band.
Dusana frowned. “A reporter?”
“From the Weekly Cackle,” the twins said collectively.
Charlotte could see the large contraption in front him then; the box sitting on three, long, insect-like legs was a turn-of-the-century camera.
Mr. Třínožka looked pleased with himself as he spelled out his full name for the froggy fellow: “A-n-a-n-s-i. My father named me,” he said proudly. “T-r-i-n-o-z-k-a. Yes. Don’t forget the accents o’er the ‘r’ and the ‘z’. Right.”
“Who is—what is that?” Charlotte whispered.
He could have been some sort of Shifter, she supposed, but there was something out of place about him—something different. He was sort of like a toad, however his skin was fish- like. He had gills on either side of his neck and stretchy membranes between his fingers.
“Vodnik,” she heard Valek say.
And then she nodded because she remembered childhood tales about the creatures who hid in ponds and lakes. The vodnici were a type of troublesome Water Sprite. Whereas other Sprites preferred crystal-clear waters of forest creeks, vodnici frequented marshes and murkier depths. They had a reputation of being oily in more ways than just their skin.
“Careful,” whispered Dusana. “They like to steal human souls.” She cackled quietly in Charlotte’s ear before tickling her under the ribs, making her jump.
Charlotte frowned up at Valek.
“It’s true,” he said. “But only by drowning.”
“Sure,” continued Dusana. “He can’t hurt you unless you jump into that fountain over there. And then he’ll hide your soul in a tea kettle and display you in his cupboard.”
“What is someone from the Weekly Cackle doing here?” asked Jorge darkly. “Edwin’s shop is great, but this town is relatively small. Doesn’t seem a large enough event to attract the most prestigious periodical in Central Europe. Don’t you think, Valek?”
“He’s not here for the store opening,” Valek began morosely.
In the very next second, his grip was tight around Charlotte’s hand, tugging her out of the square. Panic strained his features.
“We are leaving. Now.”
“Why?”
“’Ey! Charlotte! Valek! Wouldn’t ya know it! The Cackle showed up!” cawed Mr. Třínožka, waving his four arms around in the
air.
And then there was a loud gasp from the damp gentleman—from the vodnik.
He hesitated a moment, but then… “Could it be?” His swamp-water voice called from meters away.
Charlotte and Valek stopped. Horror jolted in her stomach.
The crowd parted for the reporter as he weaseled his way through. His webbed feet slapped over the cobblestone as he neared. With the tripod folded under his arm and the camera clutched firmly to his chest, his lizard-like mouth gaped at Charlotte.
Strange, indeed.
Valek reeled her in, his forearm wrapping protectively around her front. She clutched him with both hands. This wasn’t good.
The Weekly Cackle was biased—known for publishing stories that favored the Light much more than creatures of the Dark. She recalled the unfair headlines from several weeks ago, painting Vampires in a most horrendous image:
BLOODTHIRSTY BEASTS—MENICES TO MAGIC SOCIETY, LORD VLADISLOV TO DESTROY VAMPIRE THREAT, MORTALS TURNED MAGIC ARE NOT MAGIC, and other nonsense. So how did this vodnik get past Sarah’s border curses?
The fishy man gazed mystified at Charlotte like she was all-knowing and could resurrect the dead.
“The infamous mortal girl…” he breathed, reaching a webbed hand toward her, but Valek pulled her back a step. “Charlotte…aren’t you? How curious.”
He plucked a pair of spectacles from his breast pocket and pushed them up the wide bridge of his nose. The lenses were bottle-thick, magnifying his bulgy eyeballs to twice their size as he leaned in closer, blinking furiously.
“Yes. Yes. Quite,” he deduced. “The person at the center of the destruction of the Central European Magic Regime and our young lord.”
Her stomach back-flipped.
Balancing his camera on one shoulder, he grabbed up her hand in his free one, shaking it vigorously up and down, jostling her out of Valek’s hold.
“Honored! Truly! May I?” Without waiting for a response, the vodnik pulled his camera up to his eye and snapped a quick photograph, the flash blinding her once again.
“Excuse me,” Valek growled.
“Pardon! Oh, how rude! I haven’t introduced myself! Salazar Quipp! Editor in chief of The Weekly Cackle! Oh, I’m sure you’ve heard of it! Pleased to make your acquaintance! Thought I’d only be covering the event—didn’t know I’d be treated to the presence of such a celebrity!”
Of Blood and Magic Page 10
