by A. L. Larsen
Joey stood there holding the pendant in one hand and a long wooden stake in the other as he said, “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce Elizabeth and Alastair well and truly divorced.” He was battered, his clothes torn, his chin and the front of his shirt blood soaked, but he was smiling.
Until he looked at me.
“Oh God, Lu.” He scrambled to my side, catching me as I fell over.
“Joey,” I mumbled. It was hard to talk for some reason. Joey propped me up in his arms, and took hold of something right in front of me. I looked down and saw Elizabeth’s sword, sticking out of my chest. He had taken hold of the handle, and pulled it out in a quick, fluid motion.
I didn’t feel anything.
“Lu! Oh God, please no.” Joey was crying, tears streaming down his face.
“Love you, Joey. Find Alastair. Take care of each other.” I hoped I said that out loud. I couldn’t be sure, not of that, not of anything.
My eyelids slid shut, and I didn’t have the energy to open them again. It was cold, and it was grey, and somewhere, a long way off, my best friend was yelling my name.
And then there was absolutely nothing.
Epilogue
“So, this is what hell looks like.”
“It’s not quite hell,” Joey said, “but close. It’s actually the back of a 1970’s era van. I don’t think hell has shag carpeting…but I could be wrong.”
I sat up and looked at my best friend. He was seated a couple feet away, hugging his knees to his chest and watching me with an unreadable expression. I pushed my hair out of my face and asked, “What happened?”
“Elizabeth tracked us down. She must have gotten word that Alastair was in Las Vegas.” Joey’s voice was subdued, and he tilted his head, looking at me oddly.
“I remember. We were at the hospital. She had a sword.” I looked down at my chest. My sweater was caked with dried blood, and it had a hole in it, right above my heart. “She stabbed me.” Joey nodded, and I said, “You found me, and you killed her. And that’s all I remember. Was I badly hurt?” Joey nodded again. “How badly?”
“You were a moment from death, Lu. So I turned you.”
“Turned me? You mean into a vampire?”
“Well,” he said, knitting his brows, “that was the idea. But it…didn’t exactly go according to plan.”
“What does that mean?”
He answered my question with another question, one that made absolutely no sense to me. “What do you know about your father?”
“Nothing. He left when I was a toddler. Why?”
“I don’t think your dad was human, Lu. At least, not fully.”
“What are you talking about? What was he?”
He shrugged, still watching me closely. “I’m really not sure.”
“Joey, I don’t understand any of this. Please tell me what’s going on.”
“You were dying,” he said, “so I turned you to try and save you, like I said. Only, you didn’t exactly come back as a vampire. You came back as…something else.”
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For more on the Bespelled Trilogy
and author A.L.Larsen
Please visit http://allarsenwrites.blogspot.com/
Table of Contents
Copyright 2012 by A.L.Larsen. All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission in whole or ...
Dedicated with love and gratitude to
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue