Vampire Bound: Book Two

by R. A. Steffan

“I’ve subsisted on worse, believe me,” I replied in the same tone, thinking of too many weeks spent living on ramen and boxed mac ‘n’ cheese when there was still some month left at the end of the money.

  “With luck, it will be unnecessary in this case,” he assured me, gesturing for us to return to the trailhead leading toward the cabin. “I daresay one or the other of our employers will have arranged for more suitable provisions to be laid in.”

  I followed him down the narrow side trail, turning onto the main path that would lead us back. I was surprised at how shaky I felt—my legs were more than a little rubbery, and I was vaguely lightheaded.

  “Am I supposed to feel like I’ve just run a 5K?” I asked after a few minutes of walking.

  He cut a sideways glance toward me, assessing. “Do you feel worse now than after the other occasions when your magic manifested?”

  I thought back to the muddled aftermath of Ivan’s kidnapping, when I’d found Jace safely under Len’s protection. “No,” I allowed. “I guess not. I just didn’t connect the two things before. There was, um, kind of a lot going on at the time.”

  I absolutely refused to think too closely about what else had been going on the second time my powers had manifested unexpectedly. I’d had a different reason for feeling shaky and off-balance that time, too—just not one I was willing to discuss.

  “The drained feeling does rather come with the territory, I’m afraid,” he commiserated, huffing and puffing a bit as we trekked up the incline leading the cabin’s porch. “But for what it’s worth, you’re currently throwing energy indiscriminately into your magic. It will be possible to achieve the same effects with less effort, given practice. At least, it will be until your vampire power boost wears off.”

  We walked up the stone steps and entered the unlocked front door.

  “So this is going to go away?” I asked, just to clarify.

  Edward hung his coat neatly on the rack, and held out a hand for my jacket, to do the same. “Well... it seems unlikely that you’ll be able to maintain your current power levels without, shall we say, regularly imbibing.”

  My nose wrinkled. “Eww.”

  He gave a little head tilt of acknowledgement. “That being said, Ransley’s blood didn’t give you magic; it merely strengthened what you already possessed. Training will allow you to utilize your own innate talents more effectively. But the level of raw force you just demonstrated—that’s essentially unheard of in a human.”

  I frowned at him. “But... I just saw you rip dozens of branches thicker than my arm loose from the trees and hurl them at me. And you’re human.”

  “I’m a human drawing power from a demon,” he clarified. “And I did mention that magic grows more concentrated with age. In that arena, I fear I’ve quite a head start on you.”

  “What,” I tried to joke. “So, given a few decades and a bank of industrial Tesla batteries to draw from, I could catch up to you even without the occasional vampire blood chaser?”

  But he only shook his head ruefully. “I believe you mistake me, my dear. I’ve been demon-bound for a very long time. Much longer than the wrinkles and age spots represent.”

  I opened my mouth before my brain had properly decided what should come out of it. After a beat, I closed it again. Leonides had mentioned on multiple occasions that it was the demon he’d made a bargain with who’d stopped his aging and extended his lifespan. And Edward had confirmed just moments ago that Leonides and Zorah had only recently become vampires.

  By that logic, it was totally possible that Edward was even older than his elderly appearance implied. Questions crowded my mind, but none of them seemed polite to ask. Why hadn’t Nigellus preserved his body at a younger age? Had Edward really waited until he was in his eighties before selling his soul? What had possessed him to do such a thing?

  But I definitely didn’t know him well enough to demand he share something so personal. With a pang, I remembered Leonides’ carefully walled-up pain as he spoke of bargaining his soul in exchange for remission of his wife’s incurable cancer. If Edward had made a similar sacrifice, it wasn’t my place to stir up those memories.

  He’d agreed to help me with my magic—even if that ‘help’ had so far consisted of him feeding me lunch and then throwing things at me. He didn’t owe me anything more than that.

  “Okay,” I said, in lieu of any other questions or opinions I might have had. “So, vampire blood chasers it is, then. Assuming I want powerful magic, anyway. I’m still on the fence regarding that question, to be honest.”

  Edward’s expression sobered, becoming uncharacteristically grim. “If you’ll take an old man’s advice, Vonnie—you’ve already become embroiled in the doings of more powerful beings. While it’s true that having powerful magic may make you more of a target during the coming struggle... without it, you are defenseless. If I’ve learned one thing from demonkind, it’s that power may not take the form you expect—but to relinquish it when you have the ability to utilize it instead? That... is always foolish.”

  SEVEN

  THE FOLLOWING morning found me once again in the woods, my head aching after a night spent tossing and turning, capped off with what had probably been too much coffee. Though in my defense, the coffee part was not my fault—for someone used to store-brand instant crystals, putting a carafe of Colombian dark roast from a French press in front of me was basically like dumping a meth addict in Walter White’s secret lab and telling her to knock herself out.

  Edward had spent several hours the previous evening discussing magical theory with me—specifically, the difference between demon, Fae, and human magic.

  “Demon magic is fairly distinct,” he’d said. “It’s more to do with the manipulation of space and to a lesser degree, time. Demons are unstoppable power factories—immortal in the truest sense of the word. They learned long ago that with enough raw energy, the various dimensions making up reality are more like guidelines than a hard and fast rule.”

  I’d frowned, trying to put the knowledge into context. “Hence, the ability to teleport, and the reason Nigellus can send you power to use, even though he’s nowhere near you?”

  “Precisely so,” Edward had agreed. “Fae have some of those same abilities, but their portals require more energy to create and maintain. For that reason, they use ley lines rather than portals for travel across longer distances. Think of them as an existing network of invisible roads crisscrossing the planet...or perhaps a subway system would be a better analogy. It’s easier to hop on the metro and be a passenger than it is to get on a bicycle and pedal your way to your destination.”

  “But humans can’t do either?” I’d asked. “Not even magical humans?”

  “Not that I’ve ever seen, no. Human magic—and, to be fair, the vast majority of Fae magic—is elemental in nature. Broadly, it’s divided into two main categories. Magic related to inanimate objects, and magic related to living things. In humans, the former is far more common than the latter. For Fae, it’s the difference between being Seelie and Unseelie. Though it’s a gross oversimplification of a very complex system, you can think of Seelie magic as being creative in nature, while Unseelie magic is destructive.”

  “Nigellus said that this Teague guy is Unseelie, right?” I’d asked.

  Edward nodded. “Male Fae are generally Unseelie, and female Fae are Seelie. Though I did meet a male Fae recently who demonstrated some facility with life magic... so it’s clearly not a hard and fast divide.”

  As interesting as the theoretical stuff was, I needed concrete answers. “And what about mine? I’m guessing breaking things and setting fires falls under destructive elemental magic?”

  I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. But on the other hand, spawning pretty flowers and bunny rabbits into existence didn’t seem like it would be much use in a fight.

  “It appears so, my dear. The fire aspect is fairly unambiguous, and you demonstrated control over the air around you this afternoon. I’d like to experimen
t with earth and water in the morning.”

  And so it was that I found myself crouched next to a stream in the chilly morning air of a gray and dreary day. At Edward’s direction, I’d dug a little depression in the muddy bank, which had promptly filled with water.

  “The key to control is learning what feelings translate to what magical effects,” Edward was saying. “Water is the safest element for experimentation. Honestly, all you can really do to it is freeze it or evaporate it. We’ve already seen that instinctual fear mediates your control of air. And without knowing more about the details of the nightmare you experienced when the bed caught on fire, it’s difficult to make a determination on that one.”

  I resolutely did not blush. Since the fire had been a direct response to an embarrassingly lurid sexual fantasy about my boss, Edward was going to be waiting for a hell of a long time for details about my so-called nightmare.

  “So I should... what? Try to feel different emotions until something affects the water?” I asked.

  “Yes, exactly,” Edward replied. “Though I’d also like you to picture those emotions focusing through your pendant. You’re not making proper use of it at the moment, hence all the wasted power flowing out of it in the form of heat.”

  “Huh,” I mused. “Okay, I’ll do my best. Any suggestions on what emotions to try first? Is there, like, an elemental magic cheat sheet or something?”

  He huffed. “Sadly not, my dear. Your magical nature is unique to you.”

  I held Mabel’s pendant dangling from my fingers and stared at the little puddle of water, thinking. Lovey-dovey positive emotions were going to be a stretch in my current mental state, but they were also the least traumatic way to start. Taking a deep breath, I focused on feelings of friendship, picturing Len’s selfless bravery in protecting people weaker than himself... Zorah’s kindness in forgiving the lies and half-truths I’d told her... Kat’s gentle support when I was overwhelmed or out of my depth.

  I pretended I could somehow shoot those feelings through the pendant like a beam of light going through a prism, and looked hopefully at the water.

  Nothing.

  “Right. That was friendship and affection,” I reported glumly. “Nada.”

  “Try something else,” Edward encouraged.

  I thought for a minute, and focused on the queasy sensation I experienced whenever I confronted another example of Leonides’ frankly rather ridiculous wealth, and got slammed with the knowledge that I would never, ever experience that level of security and luxury in my own life.

  “Nothing for jealousy, either,” I told him, when the water continued to sit in its little muddy depression, unmoved.

  Steeling myself, I let my fierce maternal feelings for Jace flood through me. Tears pricked at my eyes as I remembered the nurse handing him to me after he’d been born... his first word... his first steps.

  The water didn’t so much as ripple.

  “Nothing for love,” I whispered, clearing my throat when my voice quavered on the last word.

  Unbidden, my thoughts turned to the Fae who’d taken my child from me. Cold fury chilled my blood in my veins, the feeling so intense that I almost forgot to picture it channeling through the garnet pendant.

  “There we go,” Edward said with satisfaction.

  My breath caught as white crystals multiplied along the surface of the puddle, growing faster and faster until the water crackled and froze solid before my eyes.

  “What emotion was it?” he asked.

  “The desire for revenge,” I replied faintly.

  He made a considering noise. “A dish best served cold, or so they say. Appropriate, I suppose. Try heated anger next.”

  I cast around for a moment before Richard’s face floated before my mind’s eye. I remembered the vicious satisfaction of smacking him across his stupid, handsome face—the sense of absolute rage I experienced whenever he did something selfish, or foolish, or shortsighted... or more frequently, all three at once.

  I could feel my blood pressure rise, like a cartoon character about to blow their top. The ice cracked and hissed like someone had aimed a laser beam at it. In moments, it had bubbled into a boil and started steaming away.

  “Well,” Edward said. “There’s one mystery solved... though you forgot to focus through the crystal on the second try.”

  I tore my eyes away from the boiling puddle to my necklace. Sure enough, it was radiating heat.

  “This is nuts,” I murmured.

  “This is magic,” Edward replied simply.

  * * *

  Several hours later, I was cold and hungry, and I’d learned that while I was pretty good with air and water, I didn’t have much affinity with earth. With a focused burst of abject sadness, I could send a fine spray of dust into the air, even from the muddy dirt of the forest floor. That was about it—not very impressive.

  I was also exhausted.

  “Frustrating that nothing seems to be connecting with your pyrokinetic abilities,” Edward mused. “Are you certain you don’t remember anything about the dream that preceded your unfortunate bed-burning experience?”

  “Nope, sorry, not a thing,” I said, too quickly. “Just a complete blank, followed by an ice-cold sprinkler shower.”

  A cold shower that had been the appropriate—if clichéd—response to the situation, ironically enough.

  “Hmm,” was all he replied, in a tone that made me think he was probably onto the fact that I was holding out on him.

  I was rescued from further awkwardness by the buzz of my phone in my pocket. I pounced on it, and not only because it gave me an escape from the current topic of conversation.

  “Yes, hello? Zorah, is that you? What did you find?” I asked in a rush.

  “Vonnie, hey. We’re in El Paso now,” said my friend. Her tone was apologetic, and my spark of irrational hope that they’d somehow found Jace safe and sound faded. “Denver was a bust, I’m afraid. Well, mostly a bust, anyway.”

  “Mostly?” I pressed. “Not completely?”

  “We talked to a couple of people whose stories didn’t quite jive,” she said. “Like, maybe their memories or perceptions were altered, you know what I mean?”

  I caught my breath. “You think those memories were altered by a Fae? Could you use the glowing eye thing to un-alter them? Like, reverse mesmerism or something? Leonides did that to me once, sort of. He erased my memories the first time we met, and then restored them later.”

  Zorah must’ve had me on speakerphone, because I could make out Rans in the background, muttering, “What on earth has that man been up to since we left him alone?”

  Zorah shushed him before replying. “Sorry, no dice, Von. Fae and demon mind control both tend to be stronger than vampire mesmerism. Still, it’s evidence that a Fae was here, which supports our theory about what happened.”

  I’d been thinking a lot about that, though. Shooting a glance toward Edward that was half nervous and half apologetic, I cleared my throat.

  “Okay, so... I just want to throw this out there for consideration. We’re working on the assumption it was the Fae because Teague apparently has it in for me, and because it ties in with the other missing kids, right? But, if the demons were trying to get Leonides to investigate the missing children for them, this would be a damned good way to do it. Make it personal, and now suddenly he’s interested when he wasn’t before, you know?”

  There was a longish pause, during which I deliberately didn’t look at Edward.

  It was Rans who replied. “While I’m the last person to underestimate the manipulative tendencies of demons, most of them do, in fact, take the prohibition against meddling with humans seriously.”

  “Most, but not all,” Zorah put in. “Remember Myrial.”

  “Myrial got her arse handed to her for stepping out of line,” Rans retorted. “And Nigellus, for all his faults, was front and center when it came to putting a stop to her.”

  “True,” Zorah allowed. “Vonnie... it’s not a
bad thought, to be honest. And I promise you we’ll keep open minds while we’re here investigating. I want to get onto the actual airplane next—see if I can sense any traces of Fae magic. It’s been grounded while the airline investigates, so we’ll get back to you as soon as there’s any new information. Guthrie said you’re with Edward right now, working on your magic?”

  “Yes,” I told her, already sinking back into that numb, dark feeling of powerlessness, waiting for news from other people while I sat on the sidelines.

  “Then that’s where your focus needs to be right now, okay? We’ve got things covered on this end, and Guthrie’s working on something from his end, too. Get that magic shit under control, so you can use it as an asset, rather than having it be a liability.”

  “I’m working on it,” I told her blankly. “Thanks for the update.”

  When I hung up, the sense of fatigue that had been hanging over me settled across my shoulders like a cloak made of lead.

  “I won’t apologize for not trusting your boss,” I said in a monotone, still not looking at Edward. “Even though I appreciate what you’re doing with me here.”

  A gnarled hand closed on my shoulder, turning me until I had to meet Edward’s eyes.

  “Nigellus didn’t take your son, Vonnie,” he said. “Perhaps the word of a demon-bound butler holds no weight in your eyes, but nonetheless—I give you my promise on that.”

  I swallowed and wet my lips. “I want to believe you, Edward. I really, really do.”

  He nodded. “The truth will come out soon enough, I suppose. For now, though, you need to rest and eat. Come along. I’ll make you lunch, and once you’ve recovered, we’ll experiment with combining your control of different elements at once.”

  EIGHT

  DAYS PASSED, AND I grew more confident in my use of Mabel’s pendant and my own abilities... even as those same abilities slowly began to fade.

  “The vampire blood is starting to work its way out of your system,” Edward observed. “You’ll need to make a decision soon whether or not to seek more, my dear.”