11. Witch’s Blood
11
WITCH’S BLOOD
DOM
“ I know, Mom, I will,” I say into the phone, the Gothic Theater looming to my right out the rental car’s window. “I’ll let you know what happens.”
“Just don’t dottle,” my mom’s stern voice fills the interior of the car, her accent lilting through the slanted light from the streetlamp. “Hattie was almost attacked by a grim.”
“I’m trying!” I snap, my exhaustion and hunger getting the better of me.
“Odin’s Ghost, Dom,” she scolds.
I kill the engine of the car. “Sorry,” I say, sighing, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I’ve had a long day of travel and I’m exhausted. Have you had any luck tracking down the Nyktorim Syndicate?”
“No. The trail went cold. I found them all the way until 1851, and then nothing. Dad and I may fly there to see if we can proceed with it. They have a census in the archives.”
“Damn. I wonder why their records just stop at 1851?”
“Vampires,” she offers. “Sometimes, while moving around and starting over when people start to notice we don’t age, we have to start all over. New names and everything.”
“And you’re thinking the census in England will help trace a name change maybe?” I ask, watching a younger woman emerge from a restaurant by herself, looking deliciously like a snack.
“That’s what we’re thinking, yeah.”
The woman walks down the dark street alone; now is my time to get a quick meal. “All right, Mom, sounds good. Gotta go.”
“Wait, Dom?—”
Closing the call, I press the red button on the car’s main screen and disembark to catch my dinner.
T he atmosphere in the establishment is pulsating with diverse energies as people mingle, drink, and watch the band play. The venue is alive with a fusion of vampires and mortals, a cacophony of blood mixing in the air and creating a dangerous space for prey; as these places are often where predators lurk. The aesthetic matches the vibe—gothic and dark. People are writhing to the music, the purple and blue lights eerily cascading over them as they dance.
The vampires are effortlessly discernible to me. They abound in every direction, typically possessing alluring and handsome features; devilishly good looks that stand out amidst the ordinary crowd. Our skin is soft and smooth, our features are striking and bright, voices melodic and enticing. Our beauty is that otherworldly, knock-your-breath-out, keep-you-awake kind of beauty, making you question yourself on how something so fucking perfect could possibly be.
Weaving my way through the crowd, different smells arouse my senses as I make my way toward a bar in the back. The humans smell like the products they use—soap and lotion and conditioners—but that only masks the tangy scent of their blood. Vampires—we smell like nature. Woodsy and earthen. There’s almost a cinnamon scent, as well as pine needles and damp bark. I believe it’s because our hearts have been pumping our blood for so long it’s as though they’ve coalesced with the Earth and made an oath with the soil, solidifying her wish to keep us bound to her for eternity.
Arriving at the bar with a full view of the establishment, a beautiful vampire with striking eyes and porcine white skin stops. “Get you anything, handsome?”
“I’ll just take a beer, thanks,” I say, giving her a flirtatious smile.
She nods and grabs a beer from the cooler, pops the top, and hands it to me. “There ya go, sweetheart. That’ll be five fifty.”
“Put it on my tab, Laney,” an equally alluring woman to my left says.
Laney nods and walks off.
“Um, thank you . . .” I say, holding out my hand.
“Mara. And you are?” She takes my hand and firmly shakes it.
The way her skin is cold but hot and smooth yet rigid tells me she’s a vampire. That and her devastatingly gorgeous green eyes. They shimmer in the purple light but also have a depth that ordinary mortals don’t.
“Dominic.”
“Nice to meet you, Dominic. Not from around here, are you?”
Her eyes track to the silver thimble claw I wear on my left thumb. It’s a defense mechanism I never leave home without these days. Not only does it protect me against the grims, but vampires have a lethal allergy to silver as well.
Double-edged coin.
“No. I’m new,” I respond, quickly slipping the lethal jewelry into my pocket. “I’ve heard this is a good place to come for people like us, though.”
“Yes, this place is where many of us meet, chill, and hang out. There are donor rooms in the back, too, with the mortals who know about us. I’m actually in a band playing tonight called Immortal Echo.”
“No way, really?” I gape at her, leaning on the bar.
She smiles. “Yeah I sing and play the electric guitar.”
“That’s sexy,” I reply, holding my beer up to cheers her.
She accepts my cheers and knocks her beer into mine, taking a drink after .
I take a drink as well. “Can I ask you something, Mara?”
“Sure,” she says, lending me a flirtatious smile.
I lean in close to her neck to whisper, “Is Denver experiencing problems with the grimspawn?”
Her eyes turn sad for a split second. “Oh. Yeah, it seems to be happening more frequently from what I noticed. I have friends in other areas where it’s worse. Why? Is that what brings you to these parts?”
“Something like that,” I state, letting my gaze sweep over the crowd.
My eyes are tracking the movements of the different types of people—humans moving more laboriously and bumbling and the vampires more lithe and precise—when my gaze is pulled by an otherworldly force and I zero in on the woman I’ve come for.
The world stops, hers the only face in focus in the amalgamation of people.
Sayah.
A shiver traces my bones as she walks in my direction.
The presence of her aura staggers me. It is the brightest aura I’ve ever seen, bounding around her in a kaleidoscope of colors that aren’t even on the spectrum. I blink rapidly just to sway myself from my mesmerization of her.
I know Mara said something but I can’t respond. She’s all I see, all I hear.
She is why I exist.
So she’s a witch?
Witches have brighter auras about them than ordinary mortals. The more powerful the witch, the brighter the aura. With the way hers is glimmering, she’s got to be the strongest witch I’ve ever encountered.
She gets to the bar I’m at and her blonde friend, linked to her via elbow, leans in and orders a drink from Laney. Sayah hangs back and looks around. I can’t take my eyes off her when she catches my gaze, I’m immediately flustered and tongue-tied.
She. Is. Flawless. Her body is a celebration of curves, a departure from the bony thinness that characterizes some other women in the room. The way she stands with authority in her skin, commanding attention by just the strength of her stance, I immediately want to bow down and worship her. The dark hue of her long hair complements the sun-kissed tan of her skin, creating a mesmerizing contrast. Tattoos slither down her arms, peeking out from the plunging shirt she wears, revealing the most delicious cleavage.
Oh, and that nose ring. She’s got a fucking hot septum piercing marked by a tiny ring of braided gold that’s barely noticeable. Between that and her dark eyes painted with black liner, I think I’m falling in love.
She holds herself with a threateningly untamed ease.
The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen stands before me, and her death is to come at my hands?
Emotions I don’t even have a name for war within my chest, causing my jaw to clench and my grip around my beer to tighten. As feelings akin to frustration and hopelessness tangle within my heart, asphyxiating my lungs, the bottle shatters in my hands as the churning of emotions flares up inside me.
“Shit!” Mara exclaims. “Are you all right? You’re bleeding.”
I nod at her, still unable to peel my eyes away from Sayah. The way the curve of her body dips before expanding outward to her hips, accentuating her hourglass figure, I picture how perfectly my hands would fit there. Every thought I’ve ever had moves out of the way to make room for her in my mind, and everyone in the establishment disappears.
I barely notice Laney coming around to sweep up my broken glass; I can’t remove my eyes from Sayah, no matter how hard I try. It’s as though I’m seeing a piece of myself I’ve been missing for a very long time, and lo and behold, here it is, in a city a thousand miles from home.
Mara glances at me, questioning in her eyes, as her gaze tracks mine to the witch.
Sayah’s attention is on her friend, who’s handing her a glass of water .
My heart rate quickens—or maybe it’s been beating this fast since I saw her, and I just now noticed. Other vampires near me perk their heads up as though they can hear it, too.
Sucking in a breath and holding it to try and gain my composure, I lean my hip against the bar to relieve my unstable legs.
Someone moves into my line of sight of her.
It’s as if the sun went behind the clouds, and I immediately feel her absence from my life. It’s dark and cold; she was my light—even for those twenty seconds. Choosing to stand on shaky legs, I brace myself and shift my weight to see her again.
The next person to stand between her and me again will lose their head.
She looks at me. The flush to her cheeks is nearly immediate as she gives me a smile that reaches her eyes. The feeling is mutual.Gravity assembles around her; we all swirl around in her orbit, as though she swallowed the sun and moon and all the stars in the sky.
An imperceptible breeze sweeps through the crowd, blowing the witch’s hair against her cheek, her scent accompanying it.
Witches blood is very sweet and very addicting.
I’m not the only one that smells her.
A vampire behind her and across the bar shoots his gaze to her. His black pea-coat and scarf accentuate his murderous black eyes.
My predatory vision zooms in on him and I watch his movements. His eyes go white for a split second and then he shifts them back to black, squaring his shoulders as he walks in her direction.
Instead of panicking, the killer inside steadies my nerves, setting my resolve to the beat of the bass.
Slipping the claw onto my thumb, I excuse myself from Mara and race—without looking supernatural—into the crowd.
He’s using the same faster-than-normal pace to reach Sayah without drawing attention, and he is moving fast. But he doesn’t notice that I see him .
Before he can reach her, I intercept his path. I jab the silver claw into his neck, causing instantaneous paralyzation. His body falls to the floor with a thud. Nobody on the dance floor even notices .
I need to get him out of here without looking obvious. Veilweaving a crowd this size would be too time consuming.
“Oh, shit! Brenden!” I laugh, concocting a cover as quickly as it comes to my head. “Can’t hold your liquor like you used to, dumbass!”
Some people look at me and smile, shrugging their shoulders.
A guy claps me on the back. “Some of us just want to stay young forever.” He laughs.
I bend down to grab the vampire by his shoulders. “You have no idea.” I grin, yanking him backward toward the side of the stage.
The vampire is heavy, but I manage to get him off the dance floor and to a dark corner of the building. He’s wide-eyed and pale, his gloved hands grasping his neck. He can still see me, the poke wasn’t enough to kill him instantly. He’s just paralyzed from head down.
The silver’s poison is a slow death when it’s in small amounts. Straight to the heart would be better. Instant kill.
Fuck a slow death.
Throwing some tablecloths over the mummified vampire, I walk to the edge of the concertstill in the shadows, scanning the back bar to see if Sayah is still there.
She is not.
It’s not hard to find her though, her aura bounds around her like headlights on a foggy highway. She’s returning to her table with her friend in tow.
I watch them for a few minutes and then my gaze slides to where I was, where Mara is still at the bar, talking closely to Laney. I’ll catch up with her later and provide an explanation.
Wiping my thimble claw on the dark curtain of the stage, I stick it back in my pocket and straighten out my shirt, wiping any dust and debris from my jeans.Looking one more time before departing my secluded hiding spot, I peek again and see that her friends have left her alone at the table.
It’s time to approach her for a conversation.