by Zoe Ashwood
At that moment, memories unfurl in my mind, expanding from where they’d been confined to fill spaces I didn’t know were empty. A flash of blinding pain shoots through me, and I throw my head back, shouting as darkness closes over me, pulling me into blissful oblivion.
I wake to the sound of Camille’s outraged yelling.
“You’ll be sorry you did this,” she shouts, “he’ll kill you! And I won’t stop him this time!” She follows this with a string of filthy French insults I never expected from her.
She and her daughters are my only living relatives, and I’ve provided her with the means to live her life comfortably even after her worthless husband left her. In turn, she invites me for dinner every Sunday. With her, I don’t have to pretend I’m human, which is a huge fucking relief.
But now she’s issuing death threats in my name?
I pry my eyes open and sit upright. I regret the decision instantly—the pain that knocked me out is still there.
“Merde.” I cover my eyes with my hand. “What’s going on?”
Something shuffles close by, and I lower my hand to find the beautiful woman crouched next to me.
Nora.
Her name comes to me with complete clarity, and in another second, the floodgates of memory open, dumping out everything that happened.
This is Nora, a woman I used to know. A woman I spent days obsessing over until I finally asked her out for dinner, like some green human with zero experience. She’d accepted, and we’d dated and I fucked her—no, I made love to her.
I loved her.
My chest constricts, and though I haven’t needed to breathe for almost two centuries, the very human impulse to fill my lungs resurfaces now. I inhale through my nose, and her scent, familiar again, overwhelms my senses.
I loved her, and she ran away from me when she found out what I am.
And then she—
“You’re a witch,” I say in wonder, remembering, and then again, with fury fueling my voice. “You’re a witch!”
I rise, looming over her, and she puts her hands up in a gesture of surrender.
“Please,” she says, her voice small. “I just want to explain.”
“Raphaël,” Camille calls.
I turn to look at her and realize Nora and her partner have tied her to my office chair with a computer cord.
“Release her,” I order the man. “Immediately.”
He glances at Nora, then back at me. “Fine, but I’m not giving her back her phone. We don’t want the police present for this conversation.”
Camille springs up the moment he unties her and scoots over to my side. “What do we do?” she whispers in French. “Are they really witches?”
In English, I tell her, “Close the gallery for the day. Then go home. I’ll call you later.”
She gazes up at me with questions in her eyes, but I just nod, ensuring her I’ll be fine. In the end, she knows not to question my choices, so she collects her jacket and purse and lets herself out the front door, then locks up and draws the metal grille in place.
“Is she…” Nora breaks off and swallows thickly. “Did you compel her to obey you?”
I look at her sharply. “Is that what you think I do?”
She raises one shoulder, as though trying to appear nonchalant, but her pale face betrays her worry. “You tried to force me to forget, so…yeah.”
I remember that now, the desperate want to make her forget about everything she’d seen at that feeding place. She’d been hysterical with fear, and I did what I thought was right. I’d planned on erasing her memory, then gently telling her what—and who—I was over the next couple of weeks, on my terms. She’d seen me at a terrible moment, and I wanted to ease her into my world in a different way. I’d even been toying with the idea of offering her immortality.
But the glamor hadn’t worked on her. Instead, she’d slapped me and run away, and I’d let her.
Then she’d trapped me and somehow erased my memories.
The idea shouldn’t be so abhorrent to me—I’ve been doing this to humans for all of my supernatural existence, after all. But experiencing myself what others must have gone through doesn’t feel great. The realization that I’d lost a whole period of time without knowing it is profoundly disturbing.
“No, I’ve never compelled Camille,” I say quietly. “She means too much to me.”
A flash of pain crosses Nora’s face, there and gone again in a blink.
“Why don’t you just sit down and talk,” the man says now, clapping his hands together. “I can, uh, make us some tea. I think I see a kitchen back there.”
Nora gives him a glance that speaks of their closeness, and he squeezes her shoulder as he passes her. Then he strides out of the office, leaving the door open, and steps into the kitchen nook where Camille keeps an electric kettle and a small refrigerator for her lunches. He peers into the fridge, then sends me a curious glance, as though he’d expected the shelves to be filled with blood.
“Are you…okay?” Nora asks me tentatively. “Is the pain gone?”
I resist the urge to rub my temples. The pain has lessened, but I suspect it won’t go away for a while. “I’m fine.”
We both sit, she in my office chair and me in one of the chairs that my clients use when visiting me. In the awkward silence, I let myself just study her. She has changed in these past two years, not much, but I’d known her so well, it doesn’t take me long to notice the differences. Her hair is slightly shorter than before, and she got a new piercing in her left ear, but it’s her expression that’s altered the most.
There’s a tightness around her generous mouth that’s new, and her eyes, though still beautiful, are wary as she stares right back at me. She’d been so trusting, so open and full of affection back when I first met her. Never naïve, but innocent in the way that told me nothing terrible had ever happened to her. So I’d wanted to protect her. Keep her away from the ugliness that my life holds by its very definition.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “For taking away your memories. And for that repellent spell.”
“The what?”
She cracks her knuckles one by one. “You know how you left the gallery yesterday afternoon? And wandered down the street?”
I sit up straight, because I couldn’t explain to myself why I’d left all my work on the table and suddenly walked away. “Yes?”
She shrugs. “I put a spell on you the day you found me in Levi’s apartment. You couldn’t come within thirty feet of me without being pushed away.”
“So I assume you came to find me yesterday.” I slowly put the pieces together. “And I was forced out?”
“Yeah, that’s pretty much it.”
I study her closely. “Why did you do it?”
Her gaze collides with mine again, and the sensation is as powerful as before. In the two years since I last saw her, my feelings for her should have dimmed. I should have gotten over her. But whatever I’d felt for her hadn’t had time to fade—she took those memories from me, so they’re now back, full force.
I’m still in love with the woman I knew back then.
Only, as it turns out, I didn’t know her at all—and she’s now a completely different person.
“I thought you were going to hurt me,” she replies, agony clear in her voice. “Or Levi. Or my family. You’re a vampire.”
“And you’re a witch,” I counter. “And a very powerful one, if you managed to curse me so thoroughly I didn’t even know it happened.”
Nora drops her gaze to the desk. “Yeah. About that. I realize I should have told you, but it’s not something we talk about, not until we’re very sure the other person is trustworthy.”
Ah. “So you never trusted me?”
Her mouth pulls to the side. “I had. But—I don’t know. I was waiting for the right time to admit it, but it’s surprisingly hard to have a witchy coming out.” She peers at me through her eyelashes. “I guess it was the same for you.”
&
nbsp; I can’t help but smile at that. “You could say that.”
“I would have told you, eventually,” she offers.
With a sigh, I put my elbows on my knees, hanging my head. “Yeah, me, too. I never wanted you to find out the way you did.”
“Well, it was pretty, um, eye-opening.”
“It was barbaric and unnecessary. I should have had better control, but staying strong around you required so much energy, I needed fresh blood,” I say, finally putting into words what I couldn’t tell her at that time. “I had to feed more often than usual, so I went to that blood den—”
“What is a blood den?” asks the man, returning to the office with three cups of tea on a tray. “Sorry,” he adds, not sounding sorry at all. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
Nora gives him a quick smile and accepts her cup from him. “Nope, it’s fine. I’d rather you’re here, anyway.” She turns to face me again. “Raphaël, this is Levi Quinn, my…my coworker, roommate, and best friend.”
I narrow my eyes at the hesitation in her voice. Whatever is going on between them has clearly left her uncertain of how she should label their relationship. I glance at Levi. He’s frowning at Nora, so he’s not entirely happy about being called all those things, either.
“And Levi, this is Raphaël Aubert.” She pauses, cocking her head to the side. “If that’s your real name?”
“Yes.” I motion at the gallery. “I haven’t had to change my name yet since I met you, and because I didn’t know my identity had been compromised thanks to your memory tampering, I lived with the conviction that it was safe to continue using it.”
She cringes. “Sorry.”
Levi takes a sip of his tea and puts the cup down. “So, what’s a blood den, and who is the woman who was just here? Is she one of your victims?”
Nora widens her eyes at him, and he shrugs, mouthing, “What?”
I don’t owe these two anything, and certainly not an explanation of my life. Now that I know they’re witches—or that Nora is, as it’s still unclear what’s going on with Mr. Quinn—I have the same hold over them as they do on me. Both Nora and I lied and tried to deceive each other, and as far as I’m concerned, we’re even.
That doesn’t mean I don’t want to know more about them. Why has Nora suddenly decided to lift her enchantments after two years? And what has she been doing with her life ever since she so completely pushed me out of it?
I lean back, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’ll answer your questions if you answer mine.”
Nora exchanges a look with Levi, then nods. “Fine.”
“The woman you saw is my great-niece, Camille. She’s aware of what I am, and I’ve never glamored her in my life. And a blood den is a place where people like me go to find humans who are willing to part with their blood in exchange for certain…benefits,” I tell them.
“Like money?” Nora asks, shock written all across her face.
I cock my head to the side. “Sometimes. When we bite a person, it’s not unpleasant for them.”
That’s a gross understatement, but I don’t want to go into the particulars now, not with Nora’s delicious scent still wafting around the room. To distract myself, I sniff for Levi’s essence, and mon dieu, he’s interesting. I’d have expected a generic scent from him, something heavily doused with cologne, judging from his clothes and that bad boy attitude he throws around, but he’s got a much more subdued, mature fragrance that has me leaning forward to capture more of him before I can fully stop myself.
He gives me a weird look as I straighten again, but to his credit, he doesn’t cringe away from me. Maybe that attitude has some substance behind it.
Nora seems to be chewing over what I just told her. “So the woman you were drinking from. She wasn’t a victim? She was there willingly?”
I snort. “Yes, every month, like clockwork. And I wasn’t the only one drinking from her.”
“And did you—?” she begins, but I hold up my hand.
“My turn, I believe,” I say. “What are you doing here?”
Nora fidgets in her chair. She glances at her coworker-roommate-best friend, but he just shrugs as though to say, ‘This is your show.’
“Well,” she says finally, turning back to me. “We need your help.”
Eleven
Nora
“So you see,” I finish my explanation of everything that brought us to this point, “I thought you could help us out with the Egypt thing. You’re Egyptian, and you were an art history student—you were literally working on a thesis on Ancient Egyptian art when I met you.”
I pause and take a sip of my now-cool tea. Raphaël’s expression betrays nothing, and neither do his hands. He’s unnaturally still in a way that used to fascinate me when we were together, but I guess I can now attribute that to his nature.
“We need a local guide. Neither one of us knows anyone in Egypt who could help, and just stumbling around would be too dangerous. The local covens are known to be secretive and hostile. We don’t speak the language. And we’re in a huge hurry. So we came to you.” I clamp my mouth shut to stop myself from begging.
Raphaël stares at me, his gaze going from my face to my hair to my clenched hands and back.
In the absence of an answer, I add, “And in exchange, I’m offering you a spell. Something that would benefit you. I can make your gallery theft-proof. Or give you a protection charm that won’t allow anyone to ever curse you again.”
A muscle twitches in his jaw at the mention of the curse. I wince, then try to put on a calm expression. So much hinges on his answer, but I can’t come across as desperate. That would put us in unequal positions.
“No.”
The single word lands between us with an impact of a heavy anvil. My heart drops, and I open my mouth to argue, to offer up more proof of why this would be a beneficial deal for him.
Then he says, “I want your word that you will give me a spell of my choosing.”
Levi sucks in a breath. This is a huge favor to ask for.
“But—” I protest.
Raphaël lifts his hand. “This, or I’m not interested in working with you.”
Well, fuck.
Maybe I should be grateful that he hasn’t thrown us out yet, or worse, killed us both. He could have—easily. Without preparation and a full magic circle, I’m no match for his speed and strength. But just agreeing to his demand would be foolish. There are so many spells he could ask for that would ruin me.
I take a slow inhale, giving myself time to word the offer well. “In exchange for your help, I’ll give you whatever spell you desire, no questions asked—unless it’s to hurt someone else or it’s beyond my power. There’s magic that could kill me if I attempted it, and I reserve the right to decide if that’s the case. If it’s a spell I don’t know yet, I’ll look it up once we win the competition, not before.”
He shifts in his chair. “And if you don’t win? If someone acquires the tokens before you?”
I force myself to remain calm. “I’ll find a way. I promise—if you strike a bargain with us, I’ll move heaven and earth to fulfill my end of the deal.”
“Nora,” cautions Levi.
I ignore him. “We can make a binding promise. What do you say?”
Raphaël is silent for a long, long time. His gaze is focused somewhere to the side, and I don’t think he’s even breathing. Which…is freaking me out. But Levi and I wait silently for him to think things through.
Finally, he lifts his chin and pins me with a stare. “I’ll need to think on this.”
I raise my eyebrows. It’s not a ‘no,’ so that’s good.
I’ve done my best, and if he’s not on board, Levi and I will just have to make our own way. I pluck a pen and a piece of paper from Raphaël’s desk and scribble down the details of our flight and my phone number.
“We’re flying out of Charles de Gaulle tonight. If you’re not there, I’ll assume you decided not to join us.” I cap the pen and stan
d. “For what it’s worth, I’m really sorry about how I reacted two years ago. You deserved better.”
He gazes up at me, his expression thoughtful. “Goodbye, Nora. Levi.”
Levi puts his hand on the small of my back and guides me out of the office. I’m grateful for his support, because I’ve exhausted both my magic and all my mental capacities today. We emerge onto the busy street, and it’s like the noise button has been turned all the way up all of a sudden.
We only make it down that first street before my legs go out from under me. Levi catches me as I stumble and takes me to a bench where I collapse with my head in my hands. A moment later, Levi’s warm palm touches the back of my neck, and a warm tingle permeates my body—he’s healing me, sending soothing magic through me.
After a minute, I’m able to lift my head again. “Thank you. I really needed that.”
He nods silently, then just looks at me, waiting for me to speak.
“That was…horrible,” I whisper. “I did a terrible thing back then, and I can’t believe I let him live like that for two years.”
Levi puts his arm around my shoulders, and I bury my face into his t-shirt, half exhausted and half mortified.
“Hey,” he says, “at least you returned his memories now. You could have left him to live like that for the rest of his life.” He pauses, then adds, “Which would have been a very, very long time.”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “But I only got around to doing it because we needed something from him. It’s—I can’t be like that, Levi. I’m not that kind of person. We help people on our jobs. Bring back lost family treasures. Recover stolen artifacts. We don’t go around cursing people because of what they are. Raphaël can’t help being a vampire.”
“Okay,” Levi says. “Stop it with the guilt spiral. He tried to do the exact same thing to you, so I’m calling it good. You did what you had to in self-defense. Now we’ll just have to hope that this wasn’t all in vain.”
And that’s what I’m terrified of. That I played a card that cost us two precious days, and we’ll have nothing to show for it.