Chapter 3 #4
The vampires, seemingly irritated by their new responsibility, found a vicious pleasure in how uncomfortable the lost and confused vampire was in a crowded room where she was treated as an object rather than a new vampire who needed to be cared for.
It took everything in me not to engage them in a battle that would have left me injured or dead and the newly changed vampire in the same predicament.
Making the decision to call one of the houses, I couldn’t determine which one would be the best. I decided to go with Corrine.
After my call to the House of Hollows’s Elite, I tried to muster up some remorse for the destruction I’d just put in motion.
But I couldn’t. Even as I stepped over dismembered body parts, past walls stained crimson with blood, and four members of the House of Pelling, cornered and begging for their lives, I had no regrets.
The place looked like a set in a horror movie, and the newly turned vampire stood in the middle of it, emotionless and unfazed, while Corrine and her security team enacted violence with ruthless efficiency.
Despite being delighted that I’d saved her life, I saw something in her that Corrine hadn’t missed, either.
Not once did she turn from the gore or exhibit any concern about the violence.
She might not have been a mirror of Corrine, but I was convinced Corrine believed she could mold her.
I had saved the young vampire but possibly helped Corrine find the next Elite of the House of Hollows.
“Don’t hurt them.” Darby’s soft voice had rung out over the cacophony of violence, pulling my attention from the one belly-crawling away after bleeding too much to heal his severed spine.
It answered any curiosity I may have had about the amount of blood a vampire must lose before they experienced a quick true death. A lot.
Darby pointed to three vampires. Her request for clemency gave me hope that she’d be a better Elite. Perhaps the voice of humanity that Corrine had abandoned.
The few spared were offered the option to join the House of Hollows, which was one of the rare houses that accepted members not bound by a sire’s bloodline. It wasn’t against the rules, just uncommon. Most Elites believed that a sire bond ensured unwavering fealty.
Rumors of my role in the fall of the House of Pelling swept through the vampire community like wildfire.
I was swiftly labeled persona non grata by many.
Meanwhile, the Elite whose egregious act of turning a woman against her will, which led to the destruction of his house, hadn’t faced a fraction of the animosity and hate that I had.
No, that was reserved for the woman who intervened and got the wronged vampire to safety. Of course I was the problem.
The weight of the vampire’s midnight gaze locked on me pulled me back to the present. His eyes didn’t hold the sharp contempt I had grown accustomed to from vampires of the smaller houses. Instead, there seemed to be traces of something else. Regard? Reverence?
I had to be mistaken. But it definitely wasn’t hate and I was happy for that.
He appeared to be having an internal debate, then moments later, he started in my direction.
The vampire next to him grabbed his arm. His advance was stopped by that vampire and the glower William directed at him. He quickly changed course and left.
Amelia, witnessing it, looped her arm around mine. “Let’s go home,” she said. “Mr. Angsty is going to make sure no one comes within a foot of us.”
“Angsty?” William’s brows furrowed. It was the first time he sounded genuinely offended by one of Amelia’s comments.
“Is broody better?” Amelia asked herself and bent her head into a half-nod. “Yes, it’s better. It has an air of danger and that’s why the handsome vampire changed his mind about approaching Kara. You’re a repellent.”
William choked on a laugh and nudged me ahead of him.
“Home we go,” Amelia chimed.
I was sure home was my home. Somehow my home was her home, her father’s home was her home, and her apartment was her home.
“You’re staying with me?” I confirmed. Occasionally she surprised me and went to her own apartment after a night out.
She nodded. I could use the company and the sounding board.
So many things were wrong with the fire that it had me speculating.
Was it a simple case of arson or was someone the target?
If so, who? Could it had been started by a rogue group of humans who just detested the existence of supernaturals and wanted Cloak and Dagger gone?
That was possible. It had happened nearly two years ago with another club.
But that club had been vandalized, the culprits had been found, and the small vocal group disbanded or went underground.
William kept his distance from us, giving directions toward one of the many parking garages the House of Knight owned.
I was guiding Amelia whose attention was occupied by her phone, her brow pinched, and her frown deepening each time she looked at it.
I wished with all my heart for her mother to send her something.
Even if it was a simple “maybe next month” or a message via one of her weird little animals that freaked Amelia out.
Years ago, I’d witnessed a rabbit delivering a message to Amelia.
Hearing a human voice come out of an animal is not nearly as cute as it may seem.
Some freaky magic activities should be illegal.
A baritone-voiced rabbit delivering a cancellation notice is one of them.
Her balance was still wobbly, so when Amelia dropped her phone, I snatched it up before a woman, not paying attention, lost her balance and crashed into Amelia.
When I helped steady Amelia, she collided with another passerby who breezed by, bumping shoulders with her, his hand tangling between us before unraveling from us in a rush.
With his face turned away, he muttered something that I assumed was a hurried apology or maybe a snarl for us to watch where we were going.
At least we hadn’t been treated to the same sneer of derision the first woman had given us.
Before I could respond to him, Amelia’s sharp inhale pulled my focus in time to see her eyes gloss over, color drain from her face, and her expression grow slack.
I caught her before she collapsed to the ground.
William was quickly at my side, scooping her into his arms.
“Smoke?” I asked, fully aware that she hadn’t taken in enough for it to be an issue, but I was searching for a reason.
“No. Definitely not the smoke.”
I followed his eyes to the interweaving sigils creeping up from her fingers toward her wrist. I checked for a pulse. It was barely there and her face was pallid.
“Get in the car.” William was racing toward his Ghibli Modena Q4. “You drive,” he commanded once we were close. The car unlocked and I threw myself into the driver’s seat, looking at him as he slid into the back seat, pulling Amelia onto his lap.
“Go!” he barked, jolting me into action.
Adjusting the seat and mirrors as quickly as I could, I started the car and drove out of the garage, navigating through the traffic toward Northwestern Hospital.
Splitting my attention between him and the road, I saw him shift and pull a ring from his pants pocket.
Biting her finger, he slid the ring over the well of blood on her finger.
The ring glowed a brilliant orange and formed embossed engravings.
What the fuck?
“It will temporarily prevent the spell advancing,” he told me. But he didn’t seem sure. He looked at her face and frowned. “It should save her life.”
“How do you know it’s a spell?”
I didn’t feel at all assured by his claim and his worried grimace confirmed my worries. Amelia might die. As I weaved through the traffic, I kept flicking glances in the rearview at Amelia’s arm.
“What type of spell could do this?” I asked it aloud although I didn’t expect an answer.
I knew more about magic than William did, and of the many spells I’d seen alchemy witches perform, nothing looked or felt like this.
If it wasn’t dark magic, it was gray tethered so close as to be almost indistinguishable.
In the enclosed space, I could feel the diablerie and death associated with a curse. And at that moment, I knew how witches instantly could detect a spell from a curse. The magic had a noxious aura.
“I think this is a curse,” I said.
“Yeah, I suspected that much. And Amelia wasn’t the target. You were.”