Chapter 11 #2
“I heard you were awake, Petite Sorcière. Danika said you can’t function without a coffee, so there is one in the living room waiting for you.”
“Thanks, Des. I’ll be out in a few. Just need to put some clothes on and pee.”
He eyes me up and down, a smirk on his full lips. “I would say come as you are, but it looks like you already did.” With a chuckle, he removes his head and closes the door, leaving me pretty fucking gobsmacked.
How did he…?
Okay, so I’m sensible enough to know that life is throwing me some sharp curveballs right now, and I know that the world isn’t as it always seems—I can communicate with dead people, for fuck sake—but this is on a whole other level. If it’s true…
There’s something inside me that’s excited by the prospect of real life supernaturals. I mean, I’ve seen the TV shows, I’ve read my fair share of otherworldly romance books, and yeah, it all seems magical, but it’s also dangerous.
With a heavy sigh, I throw on an ankle-length skirt, black like my mood, some fresh underwear, and a light-purple top.
I run a brush through my hair before piling it on top of my head with a few clips, finishing off with my charms and pendants.
I’m not getting caught falling out of the bathroom in my panties by Desdemon again.
The man himself is sitting on the couch when I exit my bedroom, wearing a light sweater, his hair swept off to one side, and he’s leaning back casually sipping his own coffee. He doesn’t look like any vampyre I’ve ever seen or imagined.
I shake it off and head into the bathroom to pee and brush my teeth. I’d love to take a shower but it can wait, there’s a coffee with my name on, and it seems like Desdemon wants to talk.
“Okay, coffee first, please.” I slump down into the armchair, gripping onto my cup like a lifeline, and give Desdemon a lazy smile.
He simply nods in response, allowing me these few minutes to take in the fresh scent of coffee and enjoy the first sips of dark goodness.
Halfway down my cup, I look up at him. He’s scrolling through his phone as if I’m not here, but there’s a tension between us I can’t put my finger on.
I clear my throat, a little too loudly, but it has the desired effect. Desdemon’s attention is now on me.
My heart is thumping in my chest with nerves.
I’m just going to say it.
“Are you a vampyre?”
To my surprise—or not, I don’t know shit anymore—he doesn’t flinch at my question. Instead, he takes his time in answering. Seeming to contemplate his words before he speaks.
“Yes.” He nods gracefully. “I am a vampyre, and the man from last night…from your bedroom…he’s a demon. Everything he told you is the truth.”
Well, his contemplation was pointless because I at least thought there’d be some tact.
“Oookaaayy.” I haven’t dragged the word okay out like that for…actually, never.
Desdemon watches me like a wild animal. As in, I’m the wild animal and he’s making sure I don’t flee or attack.
“I’m going to need some proof.” There. I can’t be clearer than that, because I’m running out of reasons to deny what I’m being told.
Lifting a hand, he pokes a finger in his eye and begins to pinch.
“Ew! No! You don’t need to—”
“Contacts, Petite Sorcière.” He holds up a tiny brown contact lens on the tip of his finger.
My gaze shifts to his eyes, one brown, one with a bright red rim around a completely black iris.
“So you have funky eyes…” I wave my hand, needing more than unusual eyes as my proof. “Show me the teeth.”
Grinning, he opens his mouth, baring his top teeth, and holy shit…two of them literally grow into fangs.
I don’t know whether to have a fangirl moment, faint, or run away.
This kind of shit happens to teenagers or people turning twenty-one. A supernatural awakening does not happen to almost-thirty-year-olds.
“I can hear your heartbeat as it speeds up. Does that mean you believe?”
“Oh, crap. Are you going to try and…fuck. I don’t know…eat me? Drink my blood? Does Danika know?” I’m panicking a little now, but I can’t move. I’m frozen in this armchair, clutching at my now-empty coffee cup.
Desdemon chuckles. “Danika is my sister, Petite Sorcière. What do you think?” His fangs shrink back to normal teeth, if they can even be called that after what I just witnessed.
“I don’t know what I think, if I’m being honest.” But I do know that I’m handling this pretty damn well. “When were you turned into a vampyre?” Must have been fairly recently if they’re siblings, although… “Are you actually her great grandfather or something?”
“No. I’m her brother and yes, Danika is aware.
Most of us are born, not made. She is also a vampyre, although she’s been able to live a normal anthro…
sorry, human life up to this point. Now she’s thirty, her powers and abilities will evolve and she will need blood to survive.
I really thought she’d have spoken to you about all of this already.
” He carefully places his phone on the small table beside the couch.
“You’re in your twenty-ninth year?” Leaning forward, he rests his elbows on his knees and clasps his hands together when I nod.
“Then your witch abilities will be strengthening, ready for your full transition on your next birthday.”
I have to laugh. “The only ability I have that has strengthened is my clumsiness. You don’t wanna know how many cuts and bruises there are on my skin right now.
” My laugh dies down and I inhale, deep and slow, trying to organize my brain into some kind of normal.
I’m torn between fascination and scared-as-a-motherfucker right now.
“So Danika has been a human this whole time, and I haven’t secretly been living with a vampyre? ”
He huffs a low chuckle. “She has always been a vampyre, her natural abilities more enhanced than an anth—human.” I nod in appreciation of him dumbing this down for me and his grin grows.
“It is the same for all kyn—supernaturals. It is only the kyn that can pass for human who are able to experience life as a human before their awakening.”
So I have been living with a vampyre.
If Desdemon keeps talking, I have no idea because I can feel myself zoning out. I stop moving, and I think I stop breathing.
My vision blurs and I can’t focus on anything other than the mist creeping in from nowhere.
My best friend and her brother are…vampyres.
A man with a head that changes into a pumpkin says I am his chosen one and he is a demon.
I’m a real witch and not the usual human kind.
And the world is still moving. Still circling the sun as it always has.
People are laughing, joking, dancing, or asleep, and inside this little apartment everything is imploding.
What I have always known is all a lie.
I think I’m okay with that, though. Maybe. I’m not so okay with Danika keeping the truth from me for all this time.
“Hey.” Desdemon snaps his fingers in front of me. “Bring it back, Petite Sorcière.”
Blinking rapidly, the mist clears and I focus on the man—vampyre—in front of me.
“Is it true that Baba Yaga was my mom?” The memory of Zelos giving me this tidbit of information last night makes me shudder. I don’t know a lot about the witch legend, but I have heard some horror stories and folk tales that aren’t too pleasant.
“I don’t know.” He looks like he wants to say more, but he’s resisting.
“Is Zelos my soulmate or chosen one or whatever?”
“You mean Hack?”
I nod, the name making my stomach flip.
“Apologies. It isn’t often that he uses his given name. We all know him as Hack.”
The fact that they know each other is another revelation out there now. He keeps spewing them out, like this is all completely normal.
“You know him?”
“I do. He and the other Horsemen are Liege to Dei Samhain for the demon kyn.”
“You’re going to have to slow down with all the lingo, I’m barely keeping up with the knowledge that’s already been thrown onto my plate.
” I need to pick and choose my questions here, because too much information at once is going to melt my brain.
“Back to my original question. Is Hack my chosen soulmate?”
“I don’t know.” He holds his palm up as a way to make me stop when I try to speak again. “But I do have a way to find out.”
“How?” At this point, I’m open. I’m holding on to the fact that this is actually pretty cool.
“My ability is with the mind. I’d like to see if I can resurface anything from one of your past lives. That might answer some of your questions.”
“And if it doesn’t work?” I think I already know the answer to this.
“Then Hack is your only option.” He shrugs.
“Okay, do the mind thing.” It’s preferable to finding Hack after kicking him out again.
“He’s outside.”
“What? Who’s outside?”
“Hack.” He’s so matter-of-fact. Why is he telling me this? “I can also read your mind when you’re projecting, and you are. Loudly.” He chuckles and raises a knowing brow.
I’m speechless. Have I thought about anything inappropriate around Desdemon?
If you’re listening, don’t answer that because it’s fucking creepy.
He chuckles again and clears his throat.
“Would you like me to check your memories now, Petite Sorcière?”
“Yes, please.” I can feel my cheeks heating from embarrassment at this whole situation, but he’s about to literally delve into my mind and find out anything he wants so fuck it. “What do I need to do?”
“Just stay where you are.” He stands and approaches me. “I’m going to put my hands on your head and I need you to close your eyes.”
“Okay.” I do as he asks, closing my eyes as his fingertips make contact with my temples.
There’s a tugging sensation in my brain, but other than that…nothing.
After a few minutes, Desdemon tenses up and there’s a sharp intake of breath. Then, with measured steps, he eases back against the couch with the grace of a king. His silence is deafening.
“Well? What did you see? Did it work?”
“There’s a strange blockage on parts of your history and nothing ever goes past the age of thirty, which is unusual. The only solid information I could glean is that yes, Hack is your chosen, you are his. He has been in many of your lives, including the first. You are fated to be together.”
My sigh holds the weight of the world, because I know what this means.
If I want to find out anything at all about myself and hopefully not die again before I’m thirty, Hack is the man to ask.
I need more coffee for this shit.