Chapter 24 - Ameera
24
AMEERA
Anson gapes at his father. “What?”
“Sometimes I run out of steam in the middle of even the simplest of spells,” Allen says. “Sometimes my strength is there, but it’s like a wrecking ball without any of the skill and nuance needed to control it. If I actually succeed at one of the more difficult spells, I usually end up passing out afterwards, like when I reinforced the ward on this house this morning.”
Ah. That explains why he fell unconscious after taking down the ward on my house when he showed up at my door demanding to see Anson last week. Whatever that bastard Roman Durant did to him damaged his magical abilities. This is not good at all.
“After that happens,” Allen continues. “I can’t produce more than a few sparks of magic for hours, just like that pathetic excuse for an offensive spell I tried when you came in here.” He shakes his head. “The spell you’re suggesting is going to require the kind of sustained and controlled magic I can’t produce anytime soon, if I can even do it at all.”
Anson blinks, his face blank with shock now. “That’s why you met us at the door with a shotgun last night,” he says. “You didn’t trust your magic.”
Allen nods, his features twisting with anguish. “And now I’m going to let you down when you need me the most,” he says in a wavering voice. “I’m so sorry, Anson.”
“It’s not your fault, Dad,” Anson says, then gives me a pained glance. “We’ll figure something else out.”
I look at him, feeling helpless because I don’t know what else we can do right now. We’re running out of time to figure out another way for the Executor’s challenge not to end with both of us dying on her sword. I glance in desperation around the room, as if a solution will present itself to me, and my eyes land on Wai Lin.
“You’re a mage,” I say, my tone harsher than I intend. “Why can’t you perform the bloody spell?”
Wai Lin shrinks back at my venomous words, and Allen shifts to stand between us with a wary expression.
Anson moves closer to me, his gentle touch on my arm placating me somewhat. “She doesn’t have the raw strength the spell more than likely requires. Not like my dad does… or did.” He frowns and clenches his hand into fists at his sides. “Fuck.”
He closes his eyes and huffs out a long, shuddering breath. He stands there, utterly still for several moments, not even breathing, before he opens his eyes again. His expression is blank now, but there’s no mistaking the darkening of his pupils as his emotions threaten his control.
I grab his hand and squeeze it. “Easy, zem?r.”
His gaze locks on mine as he grips onto me like I’m a lifeline. “What are we gonna do?” he asks in a ragged whisper.
“Right now, you’re going to focus on each emotion like I taught you and regain control of yourself,” I say, keeping my voice calm, despite the panic licking at my control. “Then we’re going to focus on finding a solution.”
He nods, his eyes returning to their usual pale blue, but he still clings to my hand with a death grip. Allen watches our interaction, and his wary expression morphs into a soft smile.
“What does the spell entail?” Wai Lin asks. “My strength has grown over the last few years. For all we know, it could be something I can handle.”
“I didn’t ask for any details since I can’t do anything with them,” Anson says.
“Then that’s what we should do,” Allen says. “Get the specifics for the spell and go from there before we give up all hope.”
“You’ll have to talk to Ameera’s sire to do that,” Anson says with a grimace, waiting for his father’s reaction to that tidbit of information. Just because he’s accepted us doesn’t mean he’s fine with being around any other vampires.
“Is your sire like you?” Allen asks as he meets my eyes with an intense stare for the first time, and I’m stunned and honored by his display of trust.
I nod. “I wouldn’t be the vampire I am without his influence.”
“Then let’s go talk to him,” Allen says without hesitation.
Minutes later, Anson and I are in my Porsche, leading his father and Wai Lin in their car to our house. Anson hugged his teary-eyed sister before we left, promising to keep her updated since her agoraphobia doesn’t allow her to go with us. Now he’s sitting in the passenger seat, staring out the window with his brows furrowed and his mouth in a tight, thin line.
He reaches over to place his hand on my thigh. “I can’t believe I’ve gotten my family back just for them to lose me the next night.” He shakes his head. “It’s fucking cruel. I should’ve just let them go on thinking I was a monster.”
“You don’t mean that, zem?r,” I say, resting my hand on his. “And I refuse to believe our fates are already written in stone. Not while we can still fight. And I don’t know about you, but I plan to do so until the last spark of my life is snuffed out.”
He nods and flips his hand over so we can twine our fingers together. “You’re right, baby,” he says. “I’m just letting my fear get the better of me.”
“I’m afraid too,” I admit. “But we can’t let it dictate what we do or think, or let it rule our emotions.”
“Will I be this wise when I’m as old as you?” he asks with a smirk.
“Not bloody likely,” I say with a hint of a smile. “Maybe when you’re a thousand?”
He snorts out a laugh. “I give it two hundred at most.”
My smile widens. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.
We hold hands in comfortable silence for the rest of the drive home, only letting go when I have to shift gears, until I stop the car in the driveway and we get out. Then we wait for Allen and Wai Lin to park and lead them to the door once they exit their vehicle.
Once inside, I follow the sound of murmuring voices to the living room just off the kitchen, where I find Aydin and Samuel once again playing chess with the board sitting on the coffee table between them this time. Dre is sound asleep on the opposite end of the sofa from where Samuel is sitting, his head lolling back against the cushions. Harrison isn’t here since I sent him home to rest after he didn’t get any sleep the night before, something Dre adamantly refused to do. I glance at Allen and Wai Lin as they walk in behind us to find them staring at the sleeping detective with wide eyes. Good. I hope his trust in my sire and progeny helps prove to them the two vampires can be trusted.
Aydin and Samuel rise to their feet at our entrance into the room. Dre startles awake, then sits up and shoots a wide-eyed glance at Anson, who shrugs in response to his unspoken question.
“I assume things went well?” my sire asks as he glances at the two newcomers.
I shrug, too. “Well enough,” I mutter.
He frowns at my quiet words, then turns a grin on Allen and Wai Lin, who stiffen at his scrutiny. “I’m Aydin Nacar, Ameera’s sire.”
“I’m Allen Hale,” Anson’s father says with a wary expression. “And this is Wai Lin Chan,” he adds as he motions toward her. “I understand you know the spell that can get my son’s magic back?”
“Yes,” Aydin replies. “I can describe it in detail.”
Allen nods. “I’ll need a notebook and something to write with.”
“On it,” Samuel says and leaves the room. A moment later, he returns with a notebook and pen, then hands them to Allen.
“Samuel? Dre?” I say. “Let’s give them some privacy so they can concentrate, shall we?”
They both nod in agreement and leave the room at my suggestion.
I turn to Anson before I follow them and reach out to take his hand. “I’ll be close by if you need me, zem?r.”
He nods and squeezes my hand. “Thanks, baby,” he murmurs with a mere hint of a smile that doesn’t quite reach his distraught eyes.
I nod and don’t let go of his hand until the last possible moment as I walk out of the room where our future will be determined. Then I cross the kitchen and lead Samuel and Dre out onto the back patio, hoping a little fresh air will help calm my frazzled emotions.
“What was all that about?” Dre asks as he closes the back door. “I thought Anson’s father being here would be a good thing.”
“It is,” I say as I approach my favorite lounge chair and take a seat. “They’ve reconciled, but there’s a complication.”
“Such as?” Samuel asks, his voice curt.
I sigh, too stressed to bother addressing my progeny’s impertinence. “The dementia spell Roman Durant used on Allen Hale compromised his magical abilities. There’s a chance he won’t be able to perform the spell to get Anson’s magic back.”
“Oh shit,” Dre says as he drops into a nearby wrought-iron chair with wide eyes.
“I can help fight the Executor if that happens,” Samuel says.
“I appreciate the sentiment, Samuel,” I reply. “But only my consort is allowed to aid me.”
That and despite his fierce fighting skills, he’d be mere cannon fodder against an ancient and skilled warrior like the Executor. I’m not sure I’ll last much longer, but I’m not dragging him down with me.
Samuel frowns, but refrains from arguing with me as he takes a seat in the chair next to Dre. Several minutes of fraught silence pass before Dre finally breaks it.
“How does a challenge between vampires work anyway?” he asks, ever the curious detective.
“It’s quite simple,” I reply. “A vampire’s skill and innate abilities are pitted against our most ancient and adept warrior in a fight to the death. And there’s only one rule. Any weapons besides guns are permitted as long as they don’t contain silver.”
“How ancient is this Executor?” Dre asks.
“Rumor has it she’s at least a thousand years old,” I say. “No one knows for sure.”
“And no one’s ever defeated her?”
“No.”
Dre scowls. “So basically you’ve been set up to fail. What a bunch of bullshit.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” I say. “Vampire politics are brutal, unforgiving, and seldom fair.”
Samuel makes a scoffing noise. “It doesn’t sound that much different from human politics to me,” he mutters.
“Touché, my progeny,” I say. “Touché.”
Then we lapse into tense silence again as we wait. An interminable amount of time passes and I’m just about to go inside to see what’s taking so long, when Aydin opens the back door and motions us inside with a harried expression. I hurry inside and I’m just about to ask him what’s going on when I hear Anson’s raised voice.
“Absolutely not!” he shouts. “There’s no fucking way I’m letting you do it!”
“It’s the only way you have a shot of getting your magic back,” Allen replies as I hurry through the kitchen, and his voice is heated as well.
“It could burn out your magic or fucking kill you outright,” Anson replies as I enter the living room to see the father and son right in each other’s faces in the center of the room. Wai Lin stands nearby with an exasperated expression that immediately turns to relief when she notices me.
“It’s not your choice,” Allen says as he points at his son. “I won’t sit back and let you die. Not when there’s something I can do about it.”
“I won’t let you sacrifice yourself for me.”
Allen huffs out a breath, calming himself a bit. “Son,” he says. “You have a long, long life ahead of you and I won’t let you lose that. Not if what’s left of mine is measured in mere decades. My part in your life will only be a footnote hundreds of years from now.”
Anson’s nostrils flare and his eyes are black now. “I! Said! No!” he shouts, his voice guttural and his fangs clearly visible now.
I rush to Anson’s side. “Calm yourself, zem?r,” I say as I grab his arm in a firm grip on the off chance he loses control and goes after his father.
He whirls to turn his livid black eyes on me. “I will not calm myself. Not when my father wants to throw his life away because of me.”
“It’s not your choice.”
“It will be once I glamour this nonsense out of his head.”
I arch a brow at him. “We both know you’re not going to glamour your own father.”
He huffs out a shuddering breath and paces away a few yards, then turns to fling a hand out toward Allen, his eyes still dark. “Tell her, Dad,” he demands. “Tell her the idiotic fucked up thing you have to do for the spell.”
I turn to Allen, who’s so angry that a slight hint of magic is glinting in his eyes as he glares at his son. “Well?” I ask, gesturing for him to elaborate.
“I have to tether my aura to a ley line to perform the spell,” he says.
“And?” I prompt, knowing there’s more he’s not telling me.
Anson cuts in. “And if he makes one mistake or his magic falters for one second, it will backfire and wipe out every bit of magic he has, or worse, burn through his aura until there’s nothing left to keep him alive.”
“It’s better than doing nothing and watching both of you die,” Allen says, motioning to Anson and me. “I’m not willing to live with that kind of guilt.”
“Neither am I,” Anson says.
“It won’t bother you for long if I fail,” Allen replies.
Anson gives me a helpless glance, but I can’t bring myself to back him up. I don’t want to watch him die tomorrow night anymore than I want to follow him into death. I don’t want to lose what we’ve found together after being alone and loveless for so many centuries, either. If that makes me selfish, then so be it.
“It’s not our choice,” I say again. “If your father wants to do this, it’s not our place to tell him otherwise.”
He turns to Wai Lin, who looks like she’s about to burst into tears.
“I don’t want him to do it either,” she says. “But you’re his child, and I love him too much to keep him from doing whatever he has to do to protect you.”
Anson gapes at her words as Allen steps closer to the woman and places a gentle kiss on her temple and murmurs that he loves her too. I smile at their display of affection and refrain from gloating, even though I was right about his father’s relationship with this woman.
“Besides,” Wai Lin says. “He’s going to need my help to perform the spell.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Anson blurts out. “Why is everyone so eager to throw their lives away?”
Allen looks at his son with a grave expression. “Because it’s the right thing to do, son,” he says. “And you’d do the same for me if our positions were reversed.”
Anson glares at his father but doesn’t reply because he knows his father is right. He’s just too stubborn to admit it.
Allen moves closer to Anson and grips his shoulder. “I couldn’t save your mother from her cancer or your sister from being attacked, but I can save you now,” he says, his voice wavering. “Let me do this for you, son.” He takes a shuddering breath as tears mist his eyes. “Please.”
Anson stares at his father for a long tense moment, his eyes turbulent and fading in and out toward black several times, before he finally pulls his father into a fierce embrace and relents with a whispered, “Okay.”