Chapter 1 #2
The thought revived the memory of the year I spent unsuccessfully searching for more information about the draveths, only for people to respond as if I were asking them to direct me to the nearest rainbow-colored unicorn.
And Vina had made herself scarce after saving my life.
Her warning lived rent-free in my mind and haunted me at every turn.
“I fear you will regret saving this life.”
No revelations supported her sentiments. I didn’t know why a protection spell had been placed on me. I wished I could move past it and brush it off as misinformation, but I couldn’t forget the heavy warning in her voice. And the fear.
I had no way to get answers about the protection spell.
Grief accompanied the helplessness of that mystery because my parents couldn’t be a source of information.
They’d died in a car accident when I was fifteen, leaving me with so many unanswered questions, especially regarding the alleged magic they boasted about that never manifested.
With a firm hold on Jonah’s arm, I guided him forward into the dark, opulent home, past the expansive entrance and dual wrought iron spiraling staircases.
His eyes trailed over the fluted Corinthian columns, accentuated by a muted silver and connected to the ceiling by elaborate decorated coffering.
The large chandelier didn’t offer a lot of light and required those without exceptional night vision to rely on the soft golden light from baroque sconces on the black velvet-paned walls.
Jonah slowed to appreciate the gothic-inspired, two-tone gray and black herringbone-pattern hardwood. The only things saving the home from feeling cavernous and bleak were the lush and vibrant plants in black planters that provided a striking contrast to the eerie opulence.
“Beautiful,” Jonah whispered. I found myself studying the house again, trying to recall my initial impression of it.
I didn’t remember beautiful being among the words that came to mind.
Ostentatious, dark academia, depressing, try-hard, but never beautiful.
The esthetics exuded a meticulous elegance seen in homes curated by a decorator.
I rushed ahead of the Nightshade witch, who was preoccupied with the look of the home. He slammed into my back when I stopped in front of the closed office door. I gave the heavy, black, wooden door bearing the crest of the House of Knight a sharp knock.
Belham’s familiar satin baritone voice invited us in. The reticent smile he gave to Jonah revealed the edges of his fangs in a staunch reminder that he was the Elite of the House of Knight.
His fangs were the very reason I’d never describe any part of the home as beautiful because I was aware of the dark and devilish deeds that occurred in it.
However, I adored Belham’s office, with its uniquely refined coziness.
Everything from the built-in bookcase to the first editions and signed copies of books by authors who’d shaped literature and those historically underappreciated and underrepresented authors he’d managed to find and often shared with me.
The meticulously carved stone fireplace seemed to serve no other purpose than to be statement art and a focal point to draw attention from the mounted swords with blades that had a light overlay of crimson from not being thoroughly cleaned after use.
The furniture was a mixture of granite, black, and taupe, accented with décor to brighten the room.
As he moved from behind his desk, Belham’s smile softened when he directed his attention to me.
His short, dark tousle of waves was cropped low at the sides, contrasting with his parchment skin.
The peach hue of his refined features indicated a recent feeding.
A close-cut, rugged beard gave an edge to his polished appearance.
Immortalized in his mid-thirties, his wizened, deep hunter-green eyes showed his two centuries of existence as a vampire.
His gaze remained on me. I hadn’t seen pictures of him before he changed and wondered what his eyes had looked like before vampirism darkened them.
I’d observed the changes in new vampires.
Their physical flaws and blemishes disappeared or smoothed out, and their eyes retained their original color, but darker, as if black paint had been added to them.
Older vampires had an impressive ability to blend in with the modern world.
But Belham’s style of dress held a vintage appearance.
And not in the trendy thrift-store-find way.
He was an anachronism. His lean frame was complemented by a dark-green vest with an accompanying pocket square.
He’d paired it with a crisp white shirt with the top buttons undone.
The chain of a pocket watch looped from the button to his pocket.
He completed the outfit with dark-brown slacks and managed to appear simultaneously overdressed and casual.
“Kara.”
Belham’s voice never gave away his intention.
Never. It was what I disliked most about him.
There was never any warning before reprehensible behavior.
It kept me on high alert most times. It was rare for any hint on his face to give me an idea of what was going through his mind.
I searched his eyes where the soul was missing, but his gaze held steady.
Jonah gave Belham a long appraisal, which I’d seen often during initial introductions.
Belham’s reluctance to interact or meet others had given him celebrity status.
It wasn’t intentional. But I’d noticed that older vampires’ interest in other supernaturals and humans waned, finding them trite at best, boring at worst, and reduced to nothing more than the services they provided. Sex, food, entertainment, and magic.
“My favorite human.”
“Human?” Jonah scrutinized me as his steps closed the space I’d put between us.
His features darkened with curiosity. His eyes mirrored the uncertainty that wavered in his voice.
My parents were alchemy witches in name only.
Both of their families marrying fully human people had diminished the magic bloodline.
They were so convinced I’d be different.
Stronger. They’d always had the expectation that one day, some magic would awaken in me that hadn’t in them.
The air of magic that surrounded me intrigued and confused people.
Since my employment with the vampires, I’d dealt with the rumors of being a dhampir.
Half-human/vampires weren’t as prevalent as many believed.
Most births weren’t successful, and the ones who survived assimilated into human life because they lacked the traits that would allow them to live among vampires and be seen as their equal.
Except for needing some form of blood to keep them from falling ill, dhampirs were too dissimilar to vampires.
In the human world, they were easily identified by their love of bloody rare steaks.
“Can you prove she’s more?” Belham challenged.
“She can’t perform spells, not even a simple binding.
So, if she’s not human, what is she?” He’d made this assertion many times with claims that I held an air of magic, but it was never substantiated.
Immunity to wards wasn’t enough, because some humans were immune as well.
Diluted bloodlines and the nebulous nature of magic led to inconsistencies in both the supernatural and human worlds.
I clung to the idea that I had some magical ability because of the protection spell placed on me.
A spell my parents clearly couldn’t have performed.
Why would they have placed a protection spell on me?
I was convinced it was to protect me, rather than Vina’s alternative theory that it was to protect others from me.
Between Vina’s claim and my parents’ optimism that my magic would eventually reveal itself, I tried to remain hopeful.
I hadn’t demonstrated enough magical ability to even claim to be a mediocre witch.
It was the reason I’d declined membership to the Lunar Veil coven.
Their offer was a sympathy invite as a favor to Amelia.
Covens were only as strong as their weakest member, and I wouldn’t be the reason their coven was compromised.
On the night I discovered some kind of magical ability, I was more than happy to pretend that facet of magic didn’t exist. Because if it was discovered, I’d die at the hands of the vampires.
That was partly my reason for accepting the job: keeping the vampires close enough that I’d know if my particular magical ability was discovered.
It would be a big enough threat for the vampires to kill me on sight, but I didn’t think it warranted a protection spell.
I shrugged off the curiosity and returned my attention to Jonah, whose lack of interest had come on just as quickly as his interest. His lips pressed into a thin line before he shrugged.
He advanced toward the predator with a foolish confidence. I had seen Belham at his worst, and that had squelched any assumptions or displays of overconfidence around him.
Belham’s eyes flicked from me to Jonah. “Is that it?” he asked, dropping his gaze to the messenger bag at Jonah’s side.