It was Alice who told me I’d be back. She said she had the power to separate Edwin and me again. A power she called “celestial” in origin, a kind of magic only granted by the angels. But there were two problems with that solution. First, I wasn’t even sure if Alice was still there. Her body had been staked. For all I knew, the moment I left someone had removed her stake and she’d been out and about plotting some way to take me down ever since. And second, the power she spoke of, the one that might separate Edwin from me, was meant to free Edwin so that he might move on to heaven. If that were to happen, and he took the essence of my heart with him, I would meet the true death.
“Ramon, going back to hell right now isn’t an option. Not until we can find another way.”
“Well, ma chérie, there’s always psychotherapy.”
I chuckled. “Yes, hearing the voice of my long-dead brother. Someone whose death I was blamed for by my father, the same daddy dearest who later tried to kill me. A shrink would have a field day with me. But they’d never solve my problem.”
“I’m not talking about sorting out your issues,” Ramon said. “What if Edwin simply needs to process his trauma? Sort out what happened to him in hell.”
I rolled my eyes. “This is hell we’re talking about. I doubt any amount of cognitive behavioral bullshit is going to change much for him.”
Ramon shrugged. “What other options are there?”
I bit my lip. In truth, there weren’t many. I wanted to go to hell, I wanted to find Alice if she was still there at all, just to learn what I could of this so-called “celestial” magic. I wanted to know how to untangle our souls. But I had to admit, having Edwin inside my head, as maddening at it was, wasn’t much worse than thinking he might move on at any moment, resulting in my true death. If there’s anything I crave beyond the taste of human souls cohering in blood, it’s power and control. With Edwin inside me, while he drove me absolutely batty—yes, I realize it’s a bad choice of terms for a vampire to pick—I at least had some degree of control over my eternal existence. There really wasn’t a great option. Either put up with his ravings for eternity and try to hold onto my sanity as long as possible, or find a way to get him out of my head and risk my own death in the process.
There was only one person I’d ever met who might know what to do in a situation like that, and she’d been dead for a hundred and thirty years: Moll, the witch who initiated me into the Craft, the one who arranged for my “transformation” into a vampire, and the one who prepared the spell that bound my heart’s essence to Edwin to begin with. I hadn’t learned much about the Craft since she died. What if I could contact her? I didn’t have much experience with séances, but I knew they were possible. It was worth a shot.
Chapter Three
Some Catholics choose patron saints—individuals from the history of their faith whose lives and experiences mean something special to them. In my early days, when I first began learning of the Craft from Moll, I had something of a patron witch of my own. An ancient witch who, for whatever reason, intrigued me beyond measure. It was the Witch of Endor—the Biblical witch who, much to the chagrin of the Jewish God, allowed the wayward King Saul to consult with the spirit of the deceased prophet, Samuel.
I don’t know why I felt such a kinship with the Witch of Endor. We weren’t contemporaries. We came from different worlds. Presumably her brand of witchcraft was totally different than mine. Still, for a young girl raised by a fundamentalist father of a Puritan bent, the idea that I could somehow justify my pursuit of the Craft with a Biblical figure, even a wayward one, satiated any lingering pangs of conscience my Sunday-school upbringing might have evoked. It also meant, quite plainly, that you couldn’t believe in the Bible without also accepting the reality of witchcraft.
Witches were not just misunderstood women who challenged the patriarchy—though many who’ve been falsely accused of witchcraft and burned for it in history were exactly that. Witchcraft was not merely a superstition. It was real. If you believe that Moses parted the Red Sea, that Jonah was swallowed by a whale, and that Jesus raised the dead on account of the Bible’s testimony, then if you were going to be consistent, you had to acknowledge the reality of witches—powerful witches. And resurrection… Jesus rose from the dead once. I did it twice. Some would say that pointing that out is blasphemous. It’s simply a fact. Burn me for it if you must—I’ll come back a third time with hell to pay.
There are two reasons I was entertaining this line of thought. The first was to ascertain what exactly “celestial magic,” the sort Alice claimed had been given her by an angel, was. She claimed she could effectively redeem Edwin’s soul from my body using it. But if “celestial” magic came from an angel, why wouldn’t fallen angels have access to the same power? Call it “infernal” magic, if you will. The same shit, but with a bad rep.
The second reason why I remained so intrigued by the Witch of Endor was because, as a witch, I should be able to commune with the dead. But if I acquired such “infernal” magic, if I added that to my arsenal or at least found someone who could wield it, I might be able to bring Moll back. She was the one who fused my heart’s essence to Edwin. Maybe there was a way to undo that bind and tie my continued existence to someone or something else. Then I could be free of Edwin altogether. Hell, if I pulled that off, I could bring him to Alice and let her have her way. If she thought he could go to heaven—a fact, based on his obsession with violence, I doubted—then she was welcome to try. Give the kid some rest, and let the Order think they’d killed me. At least it would get them off my ass.
There were two problems with my idea. First, barring an amateurish use of an Ouija board, I wasn’t sure how I could use the Craft to contact the dead. I knew it was possible, I just didn’t know what spells or rituals I needed to perform to make it happen. The second problem was going to present a whole host of other problems. How could I find a demon willing to grant me access to its power? I’d had a little experience with demons in the past, and none of them were particularly generous creatures.
An answer to both of those problems came almost as soon as I’d thought of it in the form of a knock on the door.
“Who the hell is at the door?” I asked Ramon, cocking my head. We didn’t tend to get many knocks. If any came during the day we were generally sleeping, and if we did hear them we weren’t about to open up. Since most people don’t go door-knocking after dark, it was strange to hear.
“Think it’s the Mormons?” Ramon asked.
“I hope so.” I shrugged. “I don’t know if I ever tasted one of those.”
“Quite delectable, if I should say so myself.”
I laughed. “Good to know.” I peeked through the curtain—always wise to know who you’re opening your door to, particularly when you have a body trail in your past. Spotting our visitors, I rolled my eyes. “It’s Annabelle and Hailey.”
“I wonder what they want.”
I shrugged. It occurred to me that it might have been quite timely, in fact. Hailey had been the only witch I knew recently who was at all adept at the Craft. She was only a teenager—I think sixteen or so—but she knew what she was doing. She was bitten by a vampire fledgling not long ago, and since Annabelle was on the scene, she didn’t stake her as I’d suggested she should, but healed her instead. Annabelle basically guaranteed her transition. Hailey’s sire was staked to hell by Annabelle’s magical blade almost the moment after he bit Hailey. That meant, as far as I was concerned, Annabelle was the one most responsible for Hailey’s vampiric existence. Besides, I didn’t have time to work with a youngling at this point. It took more patience than I had, and with Edwin constantly in my ear, my patience was already being tried. Still, being out of practice in the Craft, it struck me she might be useful after all.
I checked myself in the mirror. I never wanted to look too happy to see Annabelle Mulledy. Our relationship was a delicate one. There was no love lost between us. But so long as we were useful to one another, we could trust th
at the other wouldn’t pose a threat. She had a weapon she could evoke that could send me to hell without a body left here to unstake. She was a threat to me, which meant I was automatically a threat to her. I had motive. There was a reason I’d like to see her eliminated. She knew as much. To put it mildly, I wasn’t surprised she was seeking me out. During our brief relationship, it seemed, we always found reasons to make use of one another. It was safer that way—for both of us.
I opened the door, pressing my lips together to ensure I didn’t look too delighted to see my guests. Due to the wards on Casa do Diabo, Annabelle couldn’t enter the place. I could have lowered the wards but, so far as Annabelle knew, Nico had set them up. I imagined that dismantling them was beyond my pay grade. Just a solid insurance policy in case Annabelle ever got it in her head that I was more of a threat than an asset.
“What do you want, Your Highness?” I asked, emphasizing Your Highness with a sarcastic tone. She was technically the Voodoo Queen, but she was hardly qualified. She got the title because the old queen—Marie Laveau—had chosen Annabelle to succeed her while on her death bed. For whatever reason, only the devil knew.
“Don’t call me that,” Annabelle said. “We aren’t a monarchy.”
“Apologies, my liege.”
Annabelle rolled her eyes. “Look, I know I owe you a favor.”
“To send me to hell so I can redeem my brother.”
Annabelle nodded. “I hesitate to ask you for assistance given that I’m already in your debt. But I’m in over my head, and I thought you might…”
“What do you want, Anna?”
“It’s Annabelle… I hate it when people shorten my name.”
Good Lord, the girl was pretentious. “Got it, Belle.”
Annabelle sighed. I found few things in my immortal life more satisfying than getting under Annabelle’s skin. Based on the smirk on Hailey’s face, the young vampire-witch found how easily I perturbed her mentor mildly amusing. “Before we defeated Kalfu, he opened the crossroads to the demonic realm.”
I shrugged. “So?”
“Nothing we’ve tried is working. The Loa can’t contain them. But Hailey seems to be able to sense them…”
“Because she’s a witch?” I asked.
Annabelle bit her lip. “Because she’s a vampire. One who’s been bitten by Kalfu. Something about his bite seems to give vampires a connection to these demons.”
I could see where this was going. “And since both Ramon and I were bitten by Kalfu, too, you think we might be able to help.”
Annabelle nodded. “We’re really at a loss here. And this is too much for Hailey to handle alone.”
“Why do you think I care about demons running free? So far as I know, demons are more intent on attacking humans than vampires.”
“I thought, out of the goodness of your heart, you might…”
I rolled my eyes. Annabelle was convinced there was some kind of goodness inside me. She insisted on it. But she was going off nothing but her intuition. “If there is any goodness in my heart,” I said, “it won’t do you any good. In case you’ve forgotten, I don’t have a heart.”
“I wasn’t being literal… There’s a goodness in you, heart or not.”
“Sorry, I’m not interested,” I said as I grabbed the door to swing it closed.
Hailey reached up and stopped the door with her hand. I looked at her curiously. “Have you tried to feed on someone who’s been possessed?” she asked.
“Not to my knowledge.”
“I have… The blood turned to tar in my mouth. It spread throughout my body. If I didn’t have access to a healing spell, it would have killed me.”
“You’re already dead, honey.”
“You know what I mean.”
“So, your point? Don’t bite people who’ve been possessed. Lesson learned. Move on.”
Hailey and Annabelle exchanged glances. “That’s the problem,” Annabelle said. “There are a lot of demons.”
“And I can sense the demons, but I can’t sense where they’ve been,” Hailey said. “If you try to feed on someone who’s been possessed, you won’t know until it’s too late.”
I took a deep breath. I had to admit, that could be a problem. But it was also a numbers game. What were the chances I’d bite someone who’d been possessed? I shrugged. “How many are we talking about?”
Annabelle shrugged. “Hundreds. Maybe thousands? We have no idea. But they’re jumping from host to host, leaving a seed behind…”
“It’s a vampire pandemic,” Hailey said. “Before long they’ll infect so many humans that it’ll just be a matter of time before every vampire makes the mistake I did. Only most of them won’t be witches…”
I scratched my head. “This isn’t about hunting the demons, is it?”
Hailey shook her head. “We need to teach the other vampires witchcraft. It’s their only chance to survive.”
“You realize I’m out of practice, right?”
Hailey nodded. “But I can sense your power. You are adept in the Craft.”
I looked at Annabelle and narrowed my eyes. “You know, you really should have started with the food supply argument. It would have been more persuasive.”
“I was testing you, Mercy.”
“Testing me?” I laughed out loud.
“To see if you’d respond to a simple plea because it was the right thing to do. But instead, you silence the conscience you know you feel. You want to do good, I know you do.”
“Keep telling yourself that, Annabelle.”
Annabelle nodded. “I’m not the one who needs convincing that there’s goodness in you, Mercy. You just need to recognize it. You aren’t the evil witch you’d like everyone to believe.”
I grinned slyly. “You’re right. I’m not. I’m worse…”
“But you’ll help us, right?” Hailey asked.
I took a deep breath. “I’ll think about it.”
I slammed the door shut.
Chapter Four
“You should help them, ma chérie.”
“I have too much going on,” I said. “I’m barely holding onto my sanity as it is with Edwin constantly in my ear. I’m in no condition to take anything else on.”
“But this poses a risk to our food supply.”
I shrugged. “I fed on a boy the other night and I was fine.”
“But how many more times can you get away with that? It’s a gamble, no?”
I grinned. “Thing is, I know where the boy goes to school. I know his major. He was wearing a fraternity shirt—Delta Chi. He shouldn’t be hard to find.”
“What are you thinking, Mercy?”
“I’ll go snag him and keep him here. Food supply on hand.”
Ramon shook his head. “Kidnapping, Mercy? Since when has that been your style?”
I shrugged. “I adapt. That’s why I’ve survived so long.”
“Or because you can’t get staked… because aside from Alice and the Order, you haven’t ever faced a real threat to your existence.”
“Annabelle could have staked me with her soul blade the first time I met her. You know as much as anyone what that will do. Someone could bomb the house, burn it down while we’re inside during the day. Even I’m not completely invulnerable. I survive by being smart, by adapting, by never getting myself in over my head, like trying to take on a legion of demons.”
“They weren’t proposing you take them on, ma chérie. Hailey could teach you how to heal yourself. And then how to train other vampires in the Craft.”
“I didn’t tell them no. Not yet, anyway.”
“Then why’d you let them leave?” Ramon asked.
“It’s about control,” I said. “Annabelle has to know that I’m in charge of the situation. She’s at my mercy… not the other way around.”
“That’s all?” Ramon asked.
I bit my lip. “And because she’s not being honest with me. Think about it, why would Annabelle give two shits about how these dem
on possessions might infect vampires? If the enemy of your enemy is your friend, why wouldn’t she just use this demon pandemic to wipe out the vampires and then worry about trying to get rid of the demons?”
“Maybe because that would involve a lot of humans being possessed first. And she doesn’t want that.”
“True,” I said. “But nothing about asking me to team up with Hailey to train vampire-witches makes sense, either. It doesn’t stop the demons and, more than that, it would only make for more powerful vampires, a greater threat to her and her precious humanity.”
“So you’re not going to agree until she tells you the truth?”
I nodded. “Exactly. Like I said, she’s at my mercy. If she realizes she won’t get my help until she comes clean, she’ll have no choice but to tell me what her plan truly is. In the meantime, I have a frat boy to hunt.”
I could make the drive to Baton Rouge in less than two hours. Plenty of time if I left immediately after sunset to arrive before any frat boys would even think about going to bed. It was a Friday night—locating Brian wouldn’t be too difficult.
I pulled up to the Delta Chi fraternity house in my hearse. Yes, I drive a hearse. Why? Because it’s hilarious. Not to mention, it’s functional. No, I don’t typically sleep in coffins. Only the newly turned do that—because a new vampire’s grave tends to aid with the transition, helps soothe the hunger pangs produced by bloodlust. I used a hearse and coffin to travel because, if push came to shove, it did provide a shelter from sunlight if I happened to get myself stuck somewhere without accessible cover. I’d dug my own grave in the past, buried myself in the ground to avoid sunlight, but let’s face it—even a coffin is more comfortable than that.
Usually I can run fast enough to make my way around New Orleans without much hassle. But even for me, even with my vampiric vigor, running to Baton Rouge was a bit much. Not to mention, I didn’t plan on returning alone. I sure as hell wasn’t going to carry Brian eighty-plus miles. I’m strong. I’m fast. But I’m not Supergirl. I have my limitations. Yes, I could have driven an RV, but the gas mileage on those things sucks. And I rather enjoyed the odd stares I received when I stepped out of a hearse in my short black skirts and knee-high boots.
Bloody Mad: A Dark Urban Fantasy Story (The Legacy of a Vampire Witch Book 2) Page 2