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Terrifying Love: A Halloween Anthology

Page 21

by Serena Nova


  A scar on the upper lip? Sudden fear smashed my appreciative perusal to bits, and I went through a quick mental checklist. Crossbow? Check. Silver whip? Check. Flail? Check. Overall menacing appearance? Double-check.

  “Hekate’s nickers,” I breathed. “It’s you. The Huntress.” I had hardly lifted a finger, to draw the witching rune of warding, when her eyes flashed to liquid sliver, and she flung herself over the counter and plowed into me with the finesse of a rugby player. The wind got knocked from my lungs when my back hit the ground hard, and I gasped for air.

  Her fingers closed around my windpipe, making my endeavor to breathe even harder. “You will help me find my sire, witch.”

  I struggled beneath her, my throat on fire and spots dancing in front of my eyes. “I… can’t…”

  She shook me like a rag doll. “Of course you can, filth, and you will!” Her fangs gleamed in the white light, like razor-sharp blades of death, and through it all, I still marveled at her terrifying beauty.

  “I… can’t… breathe…” I choked out. I wrenched my right hand from her grip and drew a rune into the air between us. She was lifted into the air until she smashed against the ceiling, making spiders rain down all around me.

  As quickly as I could, I drew a few more runes to keep her there, while desperately sucking air down my throat, sounding like a rhinoceros with a cold. I wasn’t a powerful witch by any means – my heritage had seen to that – I knew I’d have little time before she’d break through my spells and came crashing down again. So, I crawled to the door leading to my real shop as fast as my body allowed, heaving in lungfuls of air all the way.

  A crash behind me spurred me on. I pulled myself up and reached for the doorknob. If only I closed it behind me, she would not be able get in. I might not be powerful, but I made up for that by the number of wards I had put on my shop.

  Finally, I threw open the door and yelped, as I was grabbed around the middle and tackled right into the next room. Her rough hands turned me on my back, and this time, she used her hands to pin my wrists to the floor individually. On the bright side, my throat was not being squeezed by what felt like a vise.

  “Do not use your unholy magic against me again,” she hissed, her face inches from mine.

  “You come into my shop, nearly strangle me, demand I help you with my ‘unholy magic’, and think I won’t protect myself?” I glared at her. “Fat fucking chance, bitch!”

  “You will help me find my sire,” she repeated her demand from before. “And as swiftly as possible.”

  “I will do no such thing, unless you let me go and pay me for my troubles. That is what I do, you know. I sell magic.”

  She blinked, seemingly taken aback by my refusal to cower from her, and then growled, “Your payment will be your life, witch.”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I asked, knowing full well who was sitting atop me. She was a legend among my people. And not one of the good kind. Said to have been a human belonging to a guild that hunted supernaturals, she had been turned by an elder vampire. Unlucky for me, that little inconvenience had not stopped her from hunting and killing my kind. Rather, it had made her more dangerous, more powerful, and pretty much undying.

  I wriggled a bit for room, glancing at the runes surrounding my door. With my foot, I nudged it, trying to close it. “Why do you want to find your sire?”

  Her brows drew together in a frown. “What do you care? You will help me or die.”

  I shrugged, feigning a nonchalance I didn’t feel for a second. “Guess I’ll die. But if you ask nicely and tell me why you are looking for him, maybe I’ll help.” I strained my foot further. Once the door closed, it would set off the runes I had prepared. So right now, I needed above all to keep her talking, to draw her focus. But I never got a chance.

  In a move that had my head swimming, she stood us both up, and walked me away from the door. I gnashed my teeth in fury, and a sinking sensation had my heart plummeting to my belly. I was going to die tonight.

  Chapter Three - Kayla

  I was hard pressed to ignore how soft the witch’s body was as I pinned her to the table in the middle of the room. Or how beautiful her face was, even while she glared at me defiantly. Her brown eyes, hinting at a backbone of steel, gleamed with anger, concealing the fear she felt. I couldn’t see it, but she reeked of it. It was wondrous how little of her terror she showed.

  Maybe that, more than anything else, had me talking to her. “I need to find my sire so I can kill him. He is stirring in his grave, will soon wake. And when he does, he will call me to his side. He will make me do things I have sworn to never do. But I will have no choice. Now, you will find him and tell me where he is.”

  “What will he make you do?” she asked, shimmying to get more comfortable.

  Her movements sparked my interest in her further, but I quelled that hideous part of me firmly. She was a witch. One of them. “He’ll make me kill humans. Particularly, my former guild.”

  The adorable witch snorted, “The Order of the Gauntlet? That would be a good riddance if you ask me.”

  I bared my fangs at her with a hiss.

  “What? They kill my kind on principle. You’d expect me to feel sorry for them?”

  “Of course, an abomination like you would say that. Unnatural parasite.”

  She smirked, “What does that make you?” The witch wriggled again. “Okay. Listen Huntress – may I call you Huntress? – since only an elder vampire can turn a human, I’m pretty sure your sire is one. He has to be one of the last ones left. The system has forbidden his kind to turn humans, but looks like he’s been a naughty boy. Say, for arguments sake, I tell you where to find him. You wouldn’t be able to kill him, his grave will be sealed by wards and magic, and once he wakes, you’ll be no match for him.”

  “I will cross that bridge when I come to it,” I snapped, feeling less confident than I had before.

  “What exactly is your plan here?”

  “To litter him with arrows until he’s too weak to attack me, then tie him up and leave him for the sun,” I said.

  “Yeah. That’ll work. Not.” She rolled her pretty eyes at me. “Elder vampires are not weakened by silver and they are fast as hell, he’d break you in two before the first arrow was let loose.”

  Wrath seared through me as this little witch deflated my confidence further. “You have another suggestion?”

  “Well, yeah. You could let me go and I would help you to find him, and kill him. But I’d need something from you as payment.”

  “Insolent chit! Isn’t your miserable life payment enough?”

  “Nope.” She crinkled her nose as she mulled something over. “I’ll help you, you help me. Don’t you think that would be a good deal?”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “You can get me to places I can’t go alone, watch over me as I gather stuff and ingredients in spots that would be too dangerous for me to visit on my own.” Her gaze turned inwards. “You could help me get extremely rare items. Yes, that would show them,” the last part was barely more than a murmur, though her face had hardened into an angry mask.

  “What guarantee do I have that your help is worth anything?”

  She blinked and looked straight at me again. “For starters, I make superb vampire-stunning-bombs. And I could whip together chains that would hold even your sire, with the right ingredients, of course. Not to mention, strengthening potions could help you in your battle.”

  “How could I trust you?” My eyes narrowed and I leaned closer.

  “W-well, I trust you not to kill me, don’t I?”

  I let my gaze roam through the room we were in for a few seconds, taking in everything with a once over. My freak-eyes were an asset in that way.

  The table I was bending her over was filled with jars containing curious contents – I was sure an eye had zoomed in on me from one – and bundles of plants with peculiar smells. A sickle, mortar including pestle, and an assortment of knives an
d spoons lay neatly placed on the far side. The shelves were stacked with more jars, unknown objects comprised of metal, glass, and wood. Something blinked at me from across the room. A thin golden chain was hanging from a rusty nail on the wall.

  I straightened, pulling the witch with me while making sure to hold on to her hands, closing them both into fists, lest she hexed me into the ceiling again. With little difficulty, I dragged her with me, over to the chain.

  “What are you doing?” she asked. “Where are we going?” her voice cracked a bit, showing vulnerability for the first time since meeting her.

  Pressing both of her hands together and clamping them in one of mine, I unhooked the chain. And examined it. After taking a sniff, I was certain this was what I thought it was. I looped it around one of her wrists.

  “Stop that! No, please don’t,” she protested.

  But I just watched the chain melt together where I crossed it. She now wore what looked like a golden bracelet, attached to the chain. I wound the other end around my own wrist, and saw it melt together as well, now connecting us both firmly. She was bound to me now, and I – as the acting party – was the only one who could sever the bond.

  “What have you done?” she shrieked, pulling on the chain as I let her go.

  “Making sure you keep your promise, and don’t portal away at the first opportunity.”

  Her face fell a little, and I knew I’d been right, she’d planned to vanish as soon as she could. I felt a smidge of victory light up my chest. With the help of the witch, willingly or not, I had a real chance against him.

  Chapter Four - Minette

  How had she known? The vampire was cleverer than I’d thought, and now I was bound to her, unable to flee. What a shitty night.

  “Begin,” she said, pulling the chain longer as she sat down on the only chair I had. “Those stunning bombs sound like they’d be of help. Start with those.”

  “You want me to start now?” I asked weakly. “We could prepare a bit more, make a list of stuff we need—”

  “I can feel him stirring, we have little time. Begin. We will get your… ingredients as you need them.” She arched a perfect brow. “Unless you lied and can’t help. In which case I’ll have you scry for him, then kill you.”

  “These threats of death will not help my process. And I didn’t lie.” Anger surged through me like a snake coiled to attack. I might not have heaps of magical power, but my bombs, potions, and enchantments were on point. Cursing, I slammed a large cauldron on the fireplace before lighting it. I could have sworn I heard a chuckle behind me, but when I looked, she seemed as impatient as ever – brow still raised.

  “I’ll do the draught of strength first, that one takes a few days to simmer into its optimal state. How much time do we have anyway?”

  “We have until All Hallows’ Eve. Five nights, including tonight.”

  I blinked at her. “That is… exact.”

  A glare met me. “Would you prefer an approximate guess?”

  “No, of course not.” I looked away quickly, unable to hold her glare. “I just – never mind.” Fumbling with the chain, I tried to get around my shop, getting the needed ingredients and laying them out on my table. Curious as to how best to push the vampire’s buttons, I started whistling as I picked up a carton of red wine, to dump a liter of it into the cauldron.

  If my out-of-tune melodies annoyed her, she didn’t show it. Rather, she had gotten out a small knife and a piece of wood, and got busy carving, leaving snippets of wood all over my floor.

  I whistled louder and was rewarded with her jaw tightening. Knowing I shouldn’t goad her did nothing to quell my need to. The Huntress was sitting in my shop. I should be dead. The fact that I wasn’t had me filled with a sort of giddy defiance. A dangerous combination, especially when facing such a dangerous creature. Trying to annoy her was downright stupid.

  “I’m Minette,” I told her, crushing a couple of nightshade berries, and grinding the juice into a small cup.

  “That’s unfortunate for you.”

  “Hey. Just because you could kill me in a second, does not mean you get to be rude,” I snapped.

  A sigh escaped her, and this time she did seem annoyed when she looked up from her carving. “I’m sorry. It sounded like you had a disease. Clearly Minette is your unfortunate name.” She blew on the small piece of wood, her piercing gaze sending a small shiver up my lower back.

  Hekate, those eyes. I had the sudden urge to fan myself, then what she said caught up with me and I glowered at her. “Rude. Again. Normally, when someone tells you their name you respond in kind. What, they had no manners around the 1850s? I wouldn’t know, I’m from this century.”

  For a few seconds we stared at each other, then she sank back into the chair and resumed her carving. “Kayla,” she said into the silence.

  “Gesundheit,” I replied.

  A singular huff – sounding suspiciously like a laugh – escaped her. “Touché,” she said. “Now get on with the brew, the smell of cooking wine alone makes my head hurt.”

  Smirking to myself, I added the nightshade juice to the wine, and stirred the contents anti-clockwise, three times. Next, I rummaged through the jars on my right, searching for the one containing mopane worms. “Aha,” slipped from me when I found it. The worms, cooked in saltwater and dried, smelled abysmal, but they were a beloved snack back in their home country. I’d never had the guts to try them, and used them exclusively for their magical properties.

  “What in god’s name is that?” Kayla asked, scrunching up her nose the moment I opened the jar.

  “Mopane worms.” I grinned at her, wriggling one around. “Wanna try one?”

  She pinched her nose. “Whatever you’re doing with them, make it fast,” she squeaked nasally.

  Still grinning, I picked out two, closed the jar and ground the worms into pieces, before adding them to the potion. I watched the powdered worms sink down between the bubbles, waited two seconds before drawing the rune for dissipation into the air above the cauldron. I watched the golden sign hover and vanish, then stirred the contents once, clockwise.

  The next half hour was comprised of me adding various ingredients to the strength potion, while listening to the soft scraping of metal on wood and stealing glances at the vampire. I had so many questions, of course I did. It’s not every day you meet a living legend. Well, more of a boogeyman to be honest, but a legendary one, nonetheless.

  No one knew much about her. She was rumored to be an exceptional tracker, deadly, and absolutely merciless. If you met the Huntress, your life was at an end. And yet I was alive. Not only that, she had entered into an agreement with me, and she had told me her name. I seriously doubted that anyone else knew it. No myre, at least. The question was whether all of this was a good sign, or if I should get my affairs in order. I should probably be ready for both.

  I wasn’t sure at first, but since I was sneakily spying on her, I saw her doing the same to me. Maybe she tried figuring out what I put in the cauldron, afraid I’d poison her, but as time went on, her glances lingered in strange places. To test a theory – that I thought was far-fetched at best – I got up on a stool, reaching for my top shelf. I hiked up my skirt and stepped one foot on the shelf, giving her a pretty good view of my thighs and a glimpse of my thong. It was just a split-second, but I watched with surprise, as her eyes snapped to my ass and widened, then turned to liquid silver.

  Fuzzbuckets – to quote my new favorite wizarding character – she seemed to like what she saw.

  Chapter Five - Kayla

  I was pretending to carve while watching the witch brew her potion. And when she got up on a stool to reach the topmost shelf, a bout of heat singed my insides as she presented her delicious backside in the process. I renewed my concentration on carving. There was no time for this foolishness.

  She was a witch, a freak, one of them. That didn’t stop me from feeling very drawn to her physically, and it disgusted me. I’d denied that part of m
y sexuality during my living days, only allowing the part of me conforming to the norms to flourish. But I had known, even back then, that my tastes… varied. By now, I had accepted my bisexuality as a fact. It wasn’t like I lived it, or scratched any sort of physical itch. Humans could not survive sleeping with me, and I would never stoop so low as to let one of them close.

  A small voice in my head told me that she would survive. I frowned, hacking at the wood in my hand, ruining it. It didn’t help that the room got sticky and hot with the cauldron bubbling and the fire below it burning. The witch began to sweat, and I had to stifle a groan when I smelled her sweet scent. Images of licking the sweat from her skin, tasting it, maybe taking a bite, savoring her blood, danced before my inner eye.

  God almighty! I was way out of line. “Can’t you open a window, or something?” I asked harshly.

  She shuffled to the only window in the corner next to the door leading to her video shop, straining the chain until I gave her more room. She huffed, trying to open the thing, but the handle didn’t budge.

  “Come on… piece of shit… move!”

  I sprang up and strode over. “Move,” I snapped, and she scrambled away. With one twist, I wrenched the handle up and threw the window open. Then I gave her a scathing look.

  Annoyingly, she looked adorable as she pouted at me. “We witches don’t have supernatural strength, you know.”

  “I didn’t know,” I told her truthfully.

  “W-well now you do.” She nibbled at her bottom lip and stomped back to the cauldron.

  I sucked in lungfuls of air wafting in from the street, mostly to drown her out. Being cooped up in a small room, with nothing but her delicious scent to smell and her exquisite form to view must have addled my brain.

  “Now it has to sit,” she said behind me. “Would you mind letting me close the shop so we can go upstairs? If you want, I can scry for your sire there, as well as for some stuff I’ll need for the bombs and chains.”

 

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