Chapter 22
22
Ramone
All I wanted to do was go out and feed. I hadn’t, not for a while. It wasn’t a necessity, but it felt like one. The need for discretion and the wisdom behind using caution were the only things stopping me from leaving a trail of corpses in my wake. Serial killers’ odds of being caught were higher than what was convenient, and an investigation wasn’t a good look for Fulgere Industries.
Stefan and Alexander had voted down my suggestion of completely veiling our activities once again, concerned it may provoke undue attention by us disappearing so suddenly after beginning to make ourselves known. We weren’t the only beings out there; we were merely the ones using the Third Realm as our playground and enjoying its sins. I was in the upper hierarchies, obviously, but I could still be torn down—as difficult as that may be.
The thought of anyone attempting to overthrow me was enraging and the resulting red fog at the thought was interfering with my vision. The amount of alcohol I was consuming while sitting and trying to relax would kill a human. Thankfully, it was biologically impossible for me to get drunk. The effects were comparable to only a mild sedative, no matter how much I imbibed.
Alastair’s wife had been busy translating cursed books and transcribing them. The spells she’d found were ancient and previously unknown, from what I could tell. At my request, she’d found one that should hide me well enough to venture undetected into other realms. The paper I held in my hand looked like a macabre shopping list. Many of the components were here in my home, a few of the others would need to be procured.
It seemed as if this would now have to be a regular activity, physically manipulating activities through witchcraft and spell work, rather than easily utilizing solely spiritual means. It was a major inconvenience not being able to visit the Fourth Realm for magic.
Some of my colleagues frequently engaged in the popular human craft, but I shouldn’t have to unless I chose to.
As frustrating as that was, there was the fact that I knew exactly where to go to get some of the oils I would need for this endeavor if I couldn’t visit where I truly wanted to.
The Crow’s Nest shop was a bit of a drive due to Boston’s horrendous traffic, and frustrating, twisting roads, and construction. I passed the time answering emails and reading industry articles. It was a boring pastime, and one I’d have to make far more interesting when the opportunity arose. The term “hostile takeover” was intriguing, piquing my interest as I learned more and more about corporate life. I made a mental note to discuss the possibilities with Stefan, whom I was certain would happily assist. I had the feeling “hostile” was overstated, dramatized for effect but it couldn’t hurt to play.
Adam opened the car door for me after we pulled up to the curb, directly in front of the entrance. Samantha was inside; I could feel her. She’d seen my car stop and must’ve recognized the vehicle. Her anxiety and desire had reached me beyond the building’s walls.
The smell of incense inside the store was almost overpowering and partially blocked her personal scent. Wandering down an aisle, I unbuttoned my coat and my suit jacket. There could be nothing in the way if her hand found my waist again and I knew she liked what she felt when she’d reached for me. She could touch me all she wanted, when she wanted, and where.
A sound of approval left my lips as I pulled a demonology book from the shelf. She thought about me. Briefly, I wondered if I could get her to write something in it, the energy infused into her handwriting would provide a useful link to the woman. My index finger moved across the paper in the beginning of the book, imagining her signature while I visualized the connection it could give me.
With a start, I realized how strange such a request may sound and closed the book. I’d purchase it without voicing my desire.
I’d never thoroughly perused the contents of her shop, being much too busy watching the woman behind the counter. This visit, I took my time examining her offerings. There was an unusually prolific number of rose-scented items. Soaps, perfumes, mixtures designed to provide a pleasing fragrance in one’s home, candles with the petals pressed into the wax, and other curiosities. I would have to bring her roses again soon.
A narrow table was set against the far wall with a storied rack of small glass vials. I made my way over to it, feeling Samantha’s eyes burning a hole in the back of my head, and I longed to use compulsory magic. I refrained; I wanted her to come to me of her own free will.
In fascination, I scanned the display. Samantha had made potions for nearly every malady known to man.
While I stared at the choices, I felt Samantha’s hesitation. She’d begun to approach me, and then changed her mind, her still-muted aura temporarily visible out of the corner of my eye. I felt my back stiffen and I exhaled, relaxing my shoulders. My tension would do nothing to dissuade her anxiety.
After procuring what I needed, I went to the front of the store. I’d subtly encouraged all other patrons to leave by manipulating their auras, and then Samantha was by herself.
“Why are you here?” Samantha glared at me as I placed my items down. She glanced down at the counter, eyes shuttering. “I sent you this book. To your office, I think.”
Someone’s head was going to roll seeing as I never received it. “Thank you.” Samantha looked up, mildly confused. Her lips parted, as if to say something, before closing again.
She gave me a total and I passed her a credit card. Her discomfort was increasing with every second that passed. I watched her struggle with the small piece of plastic.
“Stop staring at me,” she complained.
I didn’t, getting lost in the cyan shade of her eyes, wanting to taste her, wanting to touch her, and taking deep but subtle inhales of her delectable scent. Her aura brightened slightly, sparkling around her head and her chest, suspended in the air and dancing in the shaft of sunlight streaming through the side window.
When I turned to leave, I heard her mutter, “Fucking weirdo.” I spun back around, taking a single step toward her while she shrunk back.
“I’ll see you later,” I said, and smiled. I doubt the gesture reached my eyes.
Angry over her uncharacteristic outburst, I didn’t bother with the doorknob, needing to release a small measure of the aggression building up within. Her behavior didn’t make any sense seeing as she clearly desired me. Someone must’ve been bothering her, and it was my job to find out who. Perhaps I would be feeding after all.
I memorized the work Alastair’s wife had translated alone in my library before performing the ritual by candlelight. It was an odd sensation, every time I’d done this, using material objects. Setting my intention and visualizing what I needed, I manipulated the frequencies emitted by the oils and other matter I’d gathered.
When the spiritual doors opened, a cacophony of noise resounded, full of voices other than my own. I was able to listen to other practitioners if I directed my attention to the sounds, or if my focus wavered, I could let myself wander in a moment out of curiosity.
I was used to the ghostly whispers that drifted past me in the ether, begging the gods for favors. I subconsciously flicked them away, allowing my energy to merge with whatever it was that was out there listening far more intently than I ever had. Some of my kind lived for the often-vain requests and they occasionally personally answered them. I’d never bothered with the useless petitions for things that didn’t matter. Humans were morons in that way, not knowing they were the operant power and possessed total control over their own circumstances.
Ceremony completed; I capped the bottle of a potion I’d created that would hide my ventures into the other realms. I told no one, but my first task would be to take Samantha to my home in the Fourth Realm. I would separate her from her body, and she would believe she was dreaming. She would be dreaming, in a manner of speaking. She’d just be fully awake in the Fourth.
There was so much more I could do to Samantha to make her mine permanently. I’d enchanted the jewelry I gave her, but I didn’t want to overstep her boundaries. All I’d used was a location tracker and some blood. Not much effort was exerted on my part. I didn’t want to force her. She needed to be drawn to me with the same force with which I was drawn to her, with the obsessive desire that tormented me day and night.
The divide between us held me on the brink of madness; I was teetering at the edge. The temptation to steal Samantha away, leave everything behind, and bask in her spirit was overwhelming. But what would she want from a ruined prince? My long-neglected responsibilities, the current instability of my kind, and the possible consequences of imprisoning her again before she realized she loved me as I loved her were pressing issues I could not overlook. If it was the last thing I did, I’d find a way to possess her without accidentally killing her.
I wanted to infect the woman who’d claimed my soul, consume her, lick up her cries of ecstasy and devour her moans of pain. My very being was enflamed with the compulsion to overcome her senses, invade her consciousness; but I refrained. For now.
If it wasn’t for that infernal cursed wine, perhaps the beast within would’ve already succumbed to the call and sadly, she’d never come to realize what I had in store for her.
An image of the young mother I’d entertained recently at a club flashed through my mind. Before I could divert my thoughts, I’d sent a text message to Alastair ordering him to locate the child’s family and set up a trust fund for the infant’s care. He replied with a single word, “Okay,” and then sent another message asking if I was “okay.”
Clearly, I wasn’t, and my friend was aware of that fact. I didn’t waste either of our time answering what was obvious. I was well aware of my own instability and torment.
Samantha would approve of my kindness; she went to charity events. Even Kiara had observed some good in me; she’d told me once. I stood up a little straighter. I could do this.
I’d told Samantha she didn’t have a choice in the matter of the two of us, but she did. She was only just ignorant over the fact she’d choose me.