by Isabel Wroth
“You haven’t, have you? Never asked yourself why it’s just one big blank spot, eh? Never pondered how you got out of that dungeon alive? You needed something of Maksim’s to focus, something of him to help summon his spirit, but in your most desperate hours, you never considered going back to that house for his physical remains?”
Like stabbing pins in a VooDoo doll, Austmathr attacked her with questions, agonizing and impossible to ignore.
She stopped halfway up the path, vibrating with anger, her hands clenched so tightly she could feel the echo of pain from her physical body as her nail tips bit into the skin of one hand, and the edges of the cut sapphire dug into the other.
“Of course I did! I asked myself all those questions so many times they’re practically tattooed on the back of my eyelids. What’s your point?” she snapped, feeling the veil between them—the thin, transparent membrane separating her living soul from Austmathr’s dead one—waver.
Kerrigan didn’t dare turn her head to look at him while on the delicate path between realms, knowing if she did, Austmathr could reach out and touch her with complete impunity.
At best, he could hurt her. At worst, he could grab hold of her and ride her consciousness back into her body, effectively possessing her.
“I don’t have a point, my dear. I’m merely curious,” he purred evilly, so close she could feel his fetid breath on her neck. One glance, and Kerrigan knew he’d rip through the fragile barrier and into her throat.
“Perhaps you’ll have the answer when next we meet. My sons will all be under one roof again soon, and you’ll find your traitor. Wear your pretty necklace so I can have a front-row seat to the show, won’t you?”
His mocking laughter earned him a flip of her finger and spurred her into motion. It was only sheer stubbornness that allowed her to walk calmly up the path when every metaphysical bone in her body wanted to flee, as though she were being chased by an entire host of demons.
When she opened her eyes in the real, physical realm, Maksim was there waiting for her. Unlike last time, it wasn’t pride and astonishment she saw in his expression. Her lover was pissed with a capital ‘P.’
Crouched at the edge of the chalk circle drawn on the hardwood, Maksim stared at her with fury simmering in his gaze, clearly ready to boil over as he looked from her face to her hands and back.
The muscle in his jaw that ticked in response to the clenching of his teeth did more of a jerk; his nostrils flared wide, reacting to the drips of crimson just starting to fall from the crease of her left hand.
“Finished?” he clipped out tightly.
Kerrigan nodded, her right hand shaking as she set the sapphire down on the floor.
“Yes. Everything is—”
Maksim cut her off with a sharp hiss, “Don’t you dare say, ‘fine.’ Come here, now!”
She winced as she uncrossed her stiff legs and clumsily got to her knees, reaching out past her casting circle with her uninjured hand.
Despite how angry he was, Maksim took hold of her gently and helped her stand, whisking her off her feet to carry her into the kitchen.
Kerrigan didn’t make a peep of protest when he set her on the counter beside the sink or when he draped a towel over her lap before carefully helping her pry her fingernails out of her palm.
Maksim lifted her hand to his mouth, gently swiping his tongue across the four oozing punctures in her skin. It should have grossed her out. Hurt, at the very least, but all she felt was a mild tingling sensation.
“What happened?”
She leaned over, following Maksim’s firm instructions to stick her hand under the faucet, watching the water turn slightly pink as it swirled down the drain.
Kerrigan shrugged, unable to shake off the mess of feelings brought on by Austmathr’s manipulative questions.
“Aussie pissed me off.”
“How?”
She could tell from the bite in his tone Maks wasn’t going to go for vague responses to her questions.
She heaved a sigh and recounted everything, start to finish, including how she felt about being dumb enough to get caught by a loophole.
“You’d think after what we went through with Ivy’s old man, I’d have learned how to work a proper deal.”
The small punctures closed up during her recounting of the latest episode from Days of our Afterlives, not even a pink line left behind.
Maksim held her hand in his, his thumb brushing over the now unblemished skin of her palm, having been silent after asking her how Austmathr pissed her off.
“Cecilie’s spirit feels like it’s almost complete; maybe three or four pieces at the most are still missing. Considering Aussie gathered so many fragments since our last meeting a few days ago, I’m optimistic I’ll only have to suffer through his presence one more time.”
For a long while, Maks said nothing, and the tense silence stretched on between them. When Kerrigan closed her hand around his, Maksim inhaled a long, deep breath and raised his gaze to hers.
“You didn’t tell me there was a possibility my sire could physically lay hands on you.”
Kerrigan acknowledged his discomfort with a nod, but she was honestly more concerned with Austmathr’s line of questioning after having vented his spleen about Thomas running the company.
Since that night in the Silver Wives dungeon, Kerrigan had performed several high-powered spells, and not one time had she blacked out.
There were times when she’d been so drained she could barely keep her eyes open, but she’d never had another blackout where she lost time and couldn’t remember getting from one place to another.
It was something she needed to revisit, but considering the coldness in Maksim’s voice regarding his maker’s influence over her, Kerrigan was surprised her exhaled breath didn’t fog in front of her face.
“He can’t unless I step off the path.”
“Path?”
She frowned in thought as she worked to come up with a way to best describe it.
“Have you ever been to an aquarium with an underwater walkway?”
“Several times in Las Vegas.”
“The space I’ve created in my mind, which extends into the spirit realm, is like that.” She lifted her hands to demonstrate the bubble of space.
“The ether is like the water, with ghosts constantly swimming through it. My workspace is protected by the equivalent of a glass tunnel that lets me walk through it all, able to see and hear what’s going on around me without being touched.
“I can reach through if I want to, but nothing can reach in. There’s a transition space that’s… flexible, and it doesn’t stay open all the time. Think of a balloon that lays flat until you blow air into it.
"My consciousness moving from this place to the spirit realm is the air, and the tunnel only opens and closes when I go through, but I have to focus. To consciously be looking where I’m going or else that flexible balloon-like material of the tunnel will pop, leaving me vulnerable.”
“Define, vulnerable,” Maksim ordered tightly, his stare both tense and unwavering, giving Kerrigan no way to escape the intensity of his complete focus.
“If I’m pulled through, my mind could potentially get lost among the other spirits in the ghost aquarium. But it’s never happened before, and it’s not going to.”
Kerrigan put all the certainty she could muster into assuring Maks that her trips down under weren’t dangerous, but if the look he gave her in return was any indication, he didn’t believe her. The muscle in his jaw got to ticking, a vein over his left eyebrow appeared to pulse angrily.
“How can you be so sure?”
It would be easy for Kerrigan to explain her reasoning, but in this case, Maks appeared to require more than verbal reassurance.
“I’ll show you.” Kerrigan took the towel from her lap and folded it in half like a triangle. “I’ll put this on like a blindfold, and you do that vampire thing where you disappear without a sound. Anywhere in the apartment.”
>
Up went one of his sculpted eyebrows, his skepticism plain. “I don’t see how a game of Hide and Seek will reassure me you won’t be devoured by the metaphysical sharks of the underworld.”
“Humor me,” she drawled, lifting the blindfold up to tie around her head. “I’ll count to three.”
Kerrigan felt the rush of air that signaled he’d moved with alarming speed to find his hiding place.
She hopped off the counter, her breath hot against her own face, muffled by the thick terrycloth of the towel. Blocking everything out, Kerrigan reached for the place inside her where Maksim’s soul was bound to hers.
It felt warm—a static hum of electricity constantly flowing back and forth between them. A glowing cord she could wrap her hand and follow, giving it a tug to pick up the slack, feeling the resistance on the other end.
Not once did she bump into anything as she took off from the kitchen, almost able to see the glowing path of Maksim’s footsteps in her mind’s eye as she followed the pull of their bond.
The hum intensified the closer she got to him until it felt like her entire body vibrated.
When she pulled her blindfold off, she was standing in his side of the closet, and he was rubbing the heel of his hand against his sternum with a confused frown on his face.
“It feels like there’s a rope around my heart,” he told her with a frown.
Kerrigan draped the hand towel over her shoulder and walked deeper into the closet to slide her arms around his hips.
“That would be the chord that binds us together. Our bond is complete. There isn’t anywhere, in this realm or another, where I couldn’t find my way back to you now. I promise, after I finish this job, I won’t have any reason to go back.”
Maksim hugged her closer, searching her face even as he pulled the length of her braid through his hand, winding it around his wrist like a leash.
“And Austmathr?”
“It will take a bit of doing, but I can stick him in a spirit trap and bury it in some concrete. Or I can banish him altogether, and he’ll go back to being a fragmented spirit. Whatever you want.”
After a thoughtful pause, Maksim gently tugged her hair. “I want no one to ever be able to contact him again or to feed him any power whatsoever.”
“Spirit trap it is. I’ll need some things.”
“Then you shall have them.” Maks touched a kiss to her forehead, drawing her in to tuck her up under his chin. “I’ll wager a guess that everything you might need can be found on the thirteenth floor.”
“The thirteenth floor, huh?” She closed her eyes and snuggled in, feeling the buzz of their connection settle to a lower frequency, like happy bees having settled in their hive. “I take it that’s where the witches on the payroll have taken up residence.”
“Indeed, it is. Speaking of, I’ve yet to ask Thomas about the investigation into Quentin Van Horn’s death.”
“Let’s do it.”
*****
No doubt about it, Kerrigan was impressed by the layout of the thirteenth floor. The north side of the building was dedicated to earth magic, the south-facing side to fire, the east to air, the west to water. Thomas met them in the reception area alongside a young witch with bright blue eyes, and thick brown hair pulled up into a high ponytail.
Veda Meyers had a firm handshake, a professional smile, and a look about her that said she was all business. She couldn’t have been any older than her mid-twenties, but Thomas introduced her as head of the department.
In the middle of trying to figure out where Kerrigan knew Veda from, she caught a glimpse of the ghost she’d mistaken as an assistant or an intern.
He brightened as soon as he noticed Kerrigan staring at him, going so far as to animatedly wave at her before placing his finger over his lips in a universal sign to keep quiet.
His hair was a wild brown mop of curls, his face youthful and filled with perpetual curiosity. His eyes were blue, pure and bright, like glacial ice. She didn’t see any injuries to his body at all, and he was so solidly formed he looked nearly alive.
“Is something wrong, Miss Gray?” Thomas asked in his posh British accent.
Kerrigan blinked and shook her head, managing a silly smile for both he and Veda.
“Not at all, sorry, just lost in thought. You look extremely familiar to me, Miss Meyers. Have we met before?”
Veda’s smile remained cool and polite, her gaze from behind her delicate looking wire-rim glasses.
“Not directly. I was a few years behind you at Haggara. We probably passed in the hall.”
“Small world,” Kerrigan replied, certain that wasn’t it.
With an elegant gesture, Veda waved her hand at Thomas before folding her palms together at her waist.
“M tells me you’re working on a project and are in need of a few supplies?”
“M?” Maksim drawled, giving his progeny a dry lift of his brows.
Thomas grinned wide enough to flash his fangs.
“I like Bond movies. While Veda shows your lovely Bride around, I hoped you and I could head upstairs and begin going over the changes I’ve made to the business, Father.”
Under her hand, Kerrigan felt Maksim’s bicep turn to stone. “Certainly, but while we’re down here, I’d like to see the report on the in house investigation into Quentin Van Horn’s death.”
Veda’s smile turned a bit brittle, and Thomas appeared to be genuinely confused.
“I apologize. The name doesn’t sound familiar.”
Maksim nodded slowly. “Quentin’s death was quite some time ago, nearly twenty years. I interacted with his younger sister recently, and to my displeasure, was informed she and her family hadn’t ever been contacted by the company after my personal visit to inform them of Quentin’s demise.
"I recall turning the investigation over to Quentin’s supervisor, Raymond Sampier, and heard nothing further on the matter.”
Thomas pressed his lips together in displeasure, giving a lift of his chin as though preparing for a blow.
“Mr. Sampier’s employment with us was terminated shortly after your disappearance, Father.”
“Is that so?” Maksim replied.
Thomas answered with a sharp nod and an even sharper tone. “I called on Mr. Sampier to perform a locator spell when the council called to ask why you hadn’t arrived for your meeting.
"Quite condescendingly, his first response was to question whether or not the company had even made an attempt to utilize non-magical means of finding you. He acted as though the disappearance of the CEO wasn’t worth his time.
“I came down here to impress upon him exactly what I thought of his reaction and caught him with his trousers around his ankles, spying on a female client via a shaving mirror set up on his desk.
"It didn’t take long to discover he was doing more than merely spying on the people who’d paid us to ensure their protection from such things, but he was also spying on employees.”
Properly revolted, Kerrigan hoped Mr. Sampier’s ‘termination’ had been of the literal sort.
“The clients and employees who were violated, I assume they were properly compensated?” Maksim prompted coldly, getting a tight nod in response from Thomas.
“Yes, Father. The clients were each visited under the guise of a complementary follow-up appointment, and their protection spells thoroughly re-worked.
"The female employees were made aware of Mr. Sampier’s behavior, and all of them were given the opportunity to take their pound of flesh.”
Veda gave a prim nod, taking her cell from her pocket to send off a quick text.
“I’ll have one of the interns do a search for the Van Horn file, Mr. Austmathr.”
“Gray,” Maksim corrected immediately, and the warmest, fuzziest sensation enveloped Kerrigan to see both Thomas and Veda give a quick blink of surprise.
After the momentary surprise wore off, Thomas flushed, pressing his hand to his chest with an easy laugh and a slight bow.
�
��Of course, how could I forget?” Veda still looked confused, going so far as to look at Thomas for an explanation. “Vampires lucky enough to find their Bride take his or her last name.”
“I did not know that,” Veda replied with a thoughtful ‘huh.’
Kerrigan leaned into Maks, unable to conceal her smile. “I didn’t either until I chased down an obscure book on vampire traditions in the dustiest, most jam-packed bookstore in Leeds, written by a man named Richard Metlen. For such an ancient species, that book was less than fifty pages long. I have a hunch Mr. Metlen missed a few things.”
She looked up at Maksim with a hike of her brows, as though it was his fault the scholar failed to collect every vampire tradition. Obligingly, Maks played along with a careless shrug. “What can I say, love? We’re a secretive lot.”
“Understatement,” Kerrigan muttered, shaking her head with a long, suffering sigh for Veda. “Witches are the complete opposite. We write everything down. Am I right?”
Kerrigan’s teasing drawl made Veda finally crack a normal smile. “Absolutely. Half the floor is dedicated to our library. We keep having to expand a little more each year, as Armistice gives us quite a hefty stipend to collect rare spell books.”
“I’d love to see that,” Kerrigan said with genuine excitement.
“I would as well,” Maksim echoed.
Clearly proud of her department, Veda eagerly led them through the reception area and around to the left of the open hallway that looked out onto the atrium, pointing out the various offices and ritual spaces.
The young male ghost who’d kept pace with their group rushed ahead and urgently pointed at something.
When they got to the spot, Kerrigan peered into the open doorway to see three people, two men seated on stools and facing one another, the woman standing to the side with a clipboard diligently taking notes.
“What’s happening here?” Kerrigan asked.
Veda made a deep sound of satisfaction, nodding to the woman. “Cheyenne is assisting a local defense attorney with a murder case. By all accounts the case is solid. There’s a mountain of evidence—DNA, the murder weapon, photographs of the murderer coming and going from the scene in broad daylight—but the suspect continues to claim he’s innocent of all charges.
