8. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
W ith a shaky hand, I turn the knob and enter. I’m pretty sure my heart is about to burst out of my chest. Leaving my grandmother in the hospital didn't sit well with me, but I took Rosie's offer to cover for me until her checkups start.
Taking a deep breath, I repeat to myself that I’m doing this for her.
I lift my head and come face to face with this intriguing, beautiful man. Or vampire, to be exact.
A wicked smile covers his face, making me want to run for my life, but I don't. If he wanted to kill me and drink my blood, he would have already.
Straightening my back, I give him a sharp look and say, "I want to know what you will get out of this."
"That's a good question that I will be happy to answer. But please, come sit down."
Wanting to argue, I step forward, and my eyes catch the books on the table. Grimoires. "Where did you get them from?" I approach the books as their ancient beauty hits me.
"They are copies of the original books made several hundred years ago," the vampire says.
"Copies? It's not possible! Why would witches allow copies of their books?" I ask, confused. I run my hand over the cover of the book and the hairs on my arms stand on end.
"When money is involved, everything is possible."
"There isn't one from my family line."
"Yet."
There won't be , I want to say, but I settle for, "What do you need all those books for?"
"This will help us with what we need, and we can use all the books there are to get your magic back.”
Nodding, I read the titles of the books in awe.
Power Of the Unknown.
Collection of Mysteries.
Witchcraft at Your Will .
Dark and Bloody.
My grandma has a collection of books that every generation left behind, but our family is not known for making new spells, not when we can't master our power.
A few years ago, I met a witch who was passing through town who shared with me that she is almost certain that her book was stolen and replaced with a copy, as not all the spells were as she remembered. At the time, her story felt strange, but now, knowing John holds ‘ copies ’ in his collection causes a weird feeling to settle in me. Those books look too old and make me doubt his words.
“Okay, so what do you get out of all of this?” I ask, sitting on the bed.
“I get revenge,” he says simply. His eyes cut through mine, making me wonder if it’s more than revenge. He folds his arms, making me understand that I won’t get more information.
Nodding, I ask the question I'm most curious about and at the same time dreading to know the answer to. "How does it work?" Swallowing the lump in my throat, I continue. "I mean, getting my magic back."
Curiosity begins to grind way inside me. Is it really possible? Could it be that my magic is finally closer than ever?
"There is a process we need to go through. After that, you will have access to magic temporarily, but this will give us an advantage in finding the solution to remove the curse."
I’m more confused than before. "What process? And how are we supposed to remove the curse? I thought I would get the magic by removing it."
"The only ones who can remove the curse are those who cast it, you know that."
"So, how are you going to get them to do it?"
"Not me, we."
"I don't understand. How am I supposed to face that coven without powers?”
More importantly, how can I get the powers temporarily and how did I not know about it before?
He moves to the pile of books, taking a particular one before opening at certain page. The seen of the unknown. "I know a way to make you use your powers for a short while. With this, we can find the witch who cast the curse and remove it once and for all."
Intrigued with all the new information and the endless possibilities presented I can’t shake the strange feeling I got. "I still don’t understand what's up with you and all this."
"You could say that I have unfinished business with a certain witch, and I want to see her dead. So, I guess it's a win-win situation."
"Okay. So, how do you get me my powers temporarily?"
"Actually, it's not that complicated," he says pointing at the spell that would do just that. "I have the spell that will do the trick."
"I can't read spells; I don't have access to my power." Frustrated pain pierces my heart. It's always hard to say it out loud. To face the reality of this lack that exists inside that I constantly feel.
"I'm going to cast the spell."
"How? You're not a witch." I rise to my feet and look at him with surprise. It feels like every word that comes out of his mouth is stranger than the last.
It must be a joke. It is a waste of time.
"This is where you come in. I need your blood to cast the spell." His words echo in my ears. I must be hearing wrong. This has to be a mistake because there is no way I would let a vampire suck my blood. Not after what it did to my mother. No. Not a chance.
"What?" I'm half shouting as fear settles inside me. "You are joking, right?"
I feel a wave of nausea pushing up.
My question goes unanswered as his serious eyes invade the depths of my soul. It's too much. Everything feels too much. He must be delusional if he thinks I'm going to become my mother. I won 't do it, even if it means I have to live in the shadow of magic for the rest of my life.
Taking deep breaths, I close my eyes, hoping that when I open them, reality will change. It’s stupid of me, I know. I'm not sure how much time passes, but at some point, I open them to find him still looking at me in the same position.
"I can't do it." I shake my head.
"I see," he replies calmly, though I can see the storm raging in his eyes.
"You don't understand. My mother is addicted to vampire bites. I can't become like her. I won't do it." I walk from one end of the room to the other.
"You won’t become addicted to bites because I'm not a first-generation turn. Only their vampire bites are lethal in that sense."
"How can you know?" I stop pacing to check if he’s telling the truth. His face shows nothing, only making me more confused. I don’t know him, but I do know my mother. She ruined her life and dragged me and my grandmother down with her.
"I just do."
" I don’t know."
"It’s all ready in your reach. All you have to do is trust me."
"Trust must be earned."
"You’re right. So, trust that I need your help in return, and that I won’t endanger you as you are vital to me."
"Funny way to make me feel special," I whisper under my breath, debating going with it.
When I was old enough to understand my mother’s behavior as addiction, I tried to find information about it in every book I could find. Turns out, there’s not much material on the subject. The little I managed to extract was that, over time, vampire bites become fatal to witches but have no effect on humans except for a crazy orgasm. The worst part was that there is no way back, from becoming addicted. There is no rehab program that can help or medicine or herbal reliever. Nothing.
"Okay," I say, not fully believing I’m agreeing.
"Good."
"So, what now?"
"Now, we rest. Tomorrow, we start."