For Whom the Spell Tolls

by H. P. Mallory

  It was by far the most romantic hotel I’d ever seen, and I couldn’t dislodge the sorrow in my stomach over the fact that Knight and I wouldn’t be able to enjoy our stay here like the other couples would. Instead, I had to go on a date with a vampire, and when I could reunite with my Loki, I knew we’d both be occupied by daunting thoughts of the impending battle.

  “Sweet, how lovely you look this evening,” Bram said as he turned from where he’d been pretending to warm himself by the lobby’s fireplace.

  Glancing down at my jeans, sneakers and sweatshirt, I was far from looking lovely, but I figured that was a conversation for another day.

  “Where are we going?” I asked as soon as he offered his arm. He proudly escorted me to a white Rolls-Royce that awaited us beyond the double entry doors.

  “For a nice drive, if it pleases you,” Bram quickly responded.

  I didn’t say anything as I allowed him to open my door and took a seat in the ridiculously expensive vehicle. Neither of the valet attendants came anywhere near us or the car which didn’t surprise me too much since I figured Bram had probably just warded them away either with a few snippy words or his vampiric powers of persuasion.

  As he sat down in the driver’s seat, he glanced over at me and smiled, reaching behind my seat. He produced a white box about three feet long and two feet wide that was tied with a wide, red satin ribbon. He placed the box in my lap as he pulled out of the hotel driveway.

  “What’s this?” I asked, already dreading what lay beneath the lavish wrapping.

  “A gift for you, my dear. I would like you to wear it for me this evening.”

  I grumbled something unintelligible, but figured I had to play by his rules, so I might as well comply. I pulled the ribbon off the box and opened it. After wrestling with the tissue paper, I reached inside and felt the silky material rubbing across my fingertips. It was a floor-length, electric blue, satin gown with a cleavage-exposing halter top bodice. I was surprised to find it floor-length since Bram was so explicit that I wear only short dresses. Well, my surprise diminished when I further inspected the gown and found a slit straight up on one side, so high as to bare most of my upper thigh.

  “Thanks,” I muttered.

  “You are most welcome, my dear, most welcome,” Bram answered. Then the car began to shudder and the air popped, signifying that we’d just crossed through a portal.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, unable to conceal my anxiety.

  “We shall dine in the French Alps, Sweet,” he answered dismissively. “At one of my favorite homes.”

  “I didn’t realize you owned a home in France.”

  Bram glanced at me and chuckled. I guess I should’ve realized he was wealthy enough to own property anywhere and everywhere. A silence descended on us when we traveled through yet another portal. Moments later, we found ourselves atop an incredibly steep mountain. Far below us appeared to be a tiny village. The lights flickered and glowed through a mist of fog imbuing it with the appearance of a backdrop to some horror movie. How ironic that I should be on a date with a vampire …

  The road continued to climb the incredibly sheer cliff side until it leveled at the top before starting back down again. The road finished in a cul-de-sac at an ornate, wrought- iron gate, complete with inlaid lilies and curlicues. Bram depressed a button near the sun visor of the windshield and the gate opened inward automatically. The Rolls’ headlights revealed an ancient-looking, cobbled driveway.

  The “driveway” could have been called a road really, because it stretched in a serpentine pattern farther than I could see. On either side of us, an ancient wall surrounded the drive, its vanilla-colored stucco peeling in some places, while in others, it was completely obscured by lush vines. Beside the manicured olive trees that were planted equidistant at twenty-foot intervals, were sculpted, white rose bushes. They hugged the wall, and it soon became pretty obvious that this place was going to blow my mind.

  Although I was semi-prepared for it to blow my mind, my jaw involuntarily dropped open on its own accord when we started over a bridge to a moat that protected the front of the estate. The cobbled driveway circled back across the moat and continued into the same winding entrance from whence we’d come.

  As to Bram’s estate, it was unparalleled. Awe-inspiring couldn’t describe it. It had to be four stories high, and looked like something straight out of a story book. It reminded me of Sleeping Beauty’s castle at Disneyland. The façade of the building was rough, cream-colored stone, which gave it a medieval-looking finish. There were black shutters on each enormous, beveled-glass window. As to how many windows it had… I lost count after the first bazillion.

  Bram parked in front of the mansion, but I didn’t give him the chance to open my door. Instead, I quickly unbuckled my seatbelt and jumped out as I dropped the box with the blue gown on the passenger seat. Then I simply stared at my surroundings, rapt in complete and total wonder.

  There was a courtyard in front of the estate, with a fountain that featured a Rubenesque, life-sized woman holding a bucket of water over her shoulder. The water trailed over her naked breasts, and pooled into the V of her thighs, before trickling down her legs suggestively. The fountain was illuminated with white lights that reflected off the water like the twinkling stars overhead.

  “You live here?” I asked, barely able to find my voice.

  Bram chuckled as he held out his arm, inviting me to walk with him. “I live nowhere, Sweet.”

  “You own this?” I corrected myself, accepting his proffered arm and allowing him to lead me to the front of the house. He, however, changed course and we followed a grass pathway, flanked by peach rosebushes on either side, at the right of the house.

  “I do own this chateau,” Bram answered simply. “It has belonged to me for over two hundred years.” Then he sighed longingly. “I do not spend as much time here as I would prefer, though, Sweet. I am certain you can deduce the reason why.”

  I thought the reason was because he didn’t want to alert the townspeople that they were living alongside a vampire. Even though most Netherworld creatures were out of the so-called “closet,” in remote areas such as this, it didn’t matter. Small town people were much more narrow-minded and quick to judge when it came to anything supernatural. In places like this, it wouldn’t have surprised me to hear that witch hunts still occurred. And I could just imagine what they’d think about Bram.

  “I hope you will join me for a walk around the garden before retiring into my home?” Bram asked, smiling at me hopefully. The moonlight enhanced the whites of his eyes and teeth, imbuing them with a glow.

  “As long as you tell me why you brought me here,” I started.

  “Yes, yes,” he interrupted, waving his hand impatiently. “I give you my word that we shall spend the majority of our time together discussing business. For now, however, I prefer to enjoy your company amidst the beauty of nature.”

  I didn’t say anything more since I knew I could and would humor him for as long as necessary if it meant getting his privy information. I also couldn’t deny being curious to see the rest of the incredible establishment he called his home, which to me looked more like a dream.

  FIVE

  “So what were you doing in the Netherworld earlier today?” I asked Bram. We’d just finished his tour of the “garden,” which equated to a sprawling four-acre (well, the ground we covered anyway; Bram made a point to tell me the entire estate sat on thirty acres) horticulturist’s dream. There were various orchards, an ornately hedged maze, a thirty-foot-wide walkway, which included an overhead pergola that was woven with wisteria, as well as a fish pond the size of a swimming pool.

  And the interior of the marvel, which Bram simply referred to as his “French countryside home,” was just as extraordinary as the exterior. Every room featured original distressed walnut floors, the planks of which had to be more than a foot wide. The family room, which Bram termed a “great room” (which was fitting since it was prett
y great) was dominated by a limestone fireplace that stretched from the floor to the twenty-foot ceiling. The ceiling was edged with elaborate white crown molding that looked like it belonged in the Vatican. The library took the walnut floors a step further, by adding antiqued walnut doors and floor-to-ceiling bookcases, all constructed of centuries-old walnut. When our tour came to an end in the dining room, I found it just as impressive as the rest of the house with distressed paneling that ran halfway up the walls, a grand stone fireplace, and a wine cellar at the north end. The wine cellar came complete with a terra cotta tile floor, massive stone arches, vaulted ceilings, and hand-hewn, wrought-iron light fixtures. The irony? Bram didn’t drink wine.

  After our tour of the incredible grounds, I begrudgingly changed into the gown Bram so thoughtfully supplied for me and met him in the foyer of the chateau. When I walked through the stone archway, en route from the restroom, Bram turned to face me. He was speechless for a few seconds, and just gazed at me as if he’d never seen a woman before. As for me? I couldn’t say I was exactly comfortable in the shrink-wrap that he referred to as a gown. Just as I’d expected, it was skin tight and slit so high up on my leg, if it happened to shift to the side, my hoo-ha could be visible to anyone who cared to take a look. The bodice was also ridiculously tight, as in corset tight, with a plunging (think: bungee jump plunging) neckline. The halter top amplified the swells of my breasts to such a degree, it looked like I’d chewed one of Willy Wonka’s experimental sticks of blueberry gum, and was beginning to inflate like a balloon, boobs first.

  “Your loveliness never fails to amaze me,” Bram said finally. His tone was low and his expression pensive.

  “Well, at least one of us is impressed,” I grumbled as I attempted to walk the few steps separating us. Due to the constraints of the dress, however, I only ended up waddling side to side like a penguin.

  Bram offered his arm and I accepted it. I allowed him to “walk” me into the dining room as I inch-wormed alongside him. “You didn’t answer my question,” I pointed out as we crossed the threshold to an enormous wood table that was stained a rich, dark chocolate and dominated the room. Bram pulled out the chair closest to me and I plopped myself down on the velvet seat, which was the color of fresh milk.

  “And thus begins our business discussions?” Bram asked, peering at me in a disappointed manner. He took the seat beside me at the head of the rectangular table that looked like it could seat about forty people.

  “Yes, I kept my end of the bargain and now it’s time for you to keep yours.”

  He nodded, but didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Instead, he just kept staring at me in a bizarre, almost vacant manner.

  “Earth to Bram,” I muttered, waving my hand before his eyes to regain his attention.

  “I have forgotten what your question was, Sweet,” he admitted with an unapologetic smile. “I must confess that your beauty has captivated me, and unfortunately, mere words were lost on me.”

  It was more fitting to say he was so taken aback by my cleavage, that he space-cadetted out, but I didn’t feel like arguing. Not while we still had lots of business to discuss and I still wanted to make it back to Knight at a reasonable hour. I definitely needed some one-on-one time with my Loki. “I asked you what you were doing in the Netherworld,” I repeated.

  “Ah, yes, of course.” Then he took a big breath. “Before we begin our adventure into business discussions, would you care for something to eat?”

  “No,” I answered quickly, hell-bent on sticking to the subject. “I’m not hungry.”

  “Very well,” he said, with tightened lips. “I am quite hungry, myself.”

  I felt my left eyebrow arching of its own accord. “I’m not on the menu.”

  He chuckled, his eyes revealing the fact that he hadn’t been lying: he was hungry, ravenously so. “I am quite well aware of that, my dear.”

  “So stop procrastinating and answer the question.”

  Bram leaned back into his chair and tapped his long, perfectly manicured fingernails against the tabletop. “I was visiting a friend of mine.”

  “A friend?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. It immediately occurred to me that the only person Bram would have visited in the Netherworld would have been my father, owing to their prior business relationship. If such were the case, however, I could only wonder on what side Bram was truly allied? Was Knight right that I shouldn’t have trusted the vampire? Maybe Bram was still working for my father? If he were, I was as good as dead now … “Were you visiting my father?” I demanded, stifled anger emanating through my words.

  Bram shrugged as if the answer were of no great consequence to him. He seemed much more interested in just staring at my breasts all night. “I paid him a short visit; yes.”

  I stood up quickly, banging my knee against the apron of the table. Before I could protest, Bram dismissed my concern with a frown as he reached for my arm, pulling me back down into my chair again.

  “Before you conjure up mistruths and fantasy, allow me to explain.”

  “Why the hell are you still in contact with my father?” I snapped. “You said you were on our side!”

  “I am on your side,” he answered in a monotone. “But if I suddenly discontinued my role as your father’s business partner, you and your cause would both be doomed.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He shrugged as if the answer were obvious, even sighing, like he lacked further interest in the topic. “I cannot afford any suspicion where your father is concerned, my dear. He must believe that my allegiance remains with him, rather than to you or The Resistance.”

  “Then my father doesn’t know you’re AWOL?” I asked, frowning while trying to decide if he was telling the truth or not. The one thing I knew about Bram was he was an excellent liar, which I guessed made sense, given he’d had hundreds of years to perfect the skill.

  “AWOL?” he repeated curiously. His eyes clouded with confusion as his eyebrows furrowed. “I am unaware of the meaning of the term.”

  “What I want to know is: does my father know that you’re not on his side any longer?” I corrected myself. “Does he have any idea you’ve joined The Resistance?”

  “I did not join The Resistance,” Bram answered haughtily.

  “You told me you were allied with us.” My voice sounded steely.

  “I am allied with you, my dear,” Bram answered with another well-rehearsed grin. “However, I do not wish to dirty my hands. Battling one’s nemesis is not in my best interest. Therefore, I prefer to remain on the periphery; but I most assuredly am your ally, as I can provide you with something no one else can.”

  “Oh, really? And what is that?”

  “Information, of course,” he said with a smug smile.

  At the end of the day, it didn’t really matter whether Bram actually fought beside us or not. He was right—privy information was worth much more than magical brawn. But, as to him pulling the proverbial wool over my father’s eyes, I couldn’t say I completely had my mind wrapped around that one yet. “If my father is still clueless as to your true allegiance, how did he react to what happened between you and Christina? I mean, you basically kidnapped her to get her off the Blueliss, not to mention that you never returned her to Melchior?” He started to answer, but I interrupted him as something else occurred to me. “Speaking of Christina, where the hell is she, anyway?”

  “Calm down, please, Sweet. Your litany of questions makes me feel something I imagine you would call anxiety, and I do not appreciate the sensation.” He paused for a few seconds and dramatically breathed in for a few counts before breathing out, which was ridiculous since he was already dead, and thus, couldn’t breathe. After regaining some sense of serenity, he smiled at me vacantly as if he’d just undergone a lobotomy.

  “Okay, I won’t ask another question,” I muttered. “So answer the ones I already asked.”

  “As to your leader, she is safely nestled in one of my estates. We shall retrieve her w
hen we return to Lucerne.”

  “And my father?”

  He frowned at me. “I was approaching that discussion, if you would cease interrupting me.” He revealed an expression of mild discontent, so I didn’t say anything more.

  He cleared his throat. “Your father trusts me as much as his nature allows,” he started. “And that one arrow in our quiver cannot be jeopardized.” His eyes narrowed as his lips grew tighter. “The moment that your father ceases to trust me is the moment of peril for you and your cause.”

  “So what did my father think when you absconded with Christina?” I asked again.

  Bram smiled at me broadly. “Very impressive vocabulary, my dear,” he said in a patronizing tone. I honestly thought he thought he was paying me a compliment. Seeing my impatient frown, though, he continued, “Your father showed little or no reaction, as he assumed I was just … borrowing her.”

  “Borrowing her?”

  Bram eyed me knowingly before sighing again, as if he were bored with our conversation and had more important places to be. “Borrowing her for carnal activities, Sweet.”

  “Oh my God,” I said in disgust, shaking my head as something else occurred to me. Glaring at him, I could feel my jaw tightening. “If you laid one finger on her …”

  “Sweet,” he smiled, shaking his head and holding up one hand to silence me. “I give you my word as a gentleman that I was nothing but.” Then his gaze dropped to my bust again and he licked his lips. “Where you are concerned, however, gentility abandons me.” Then he shrugged. “But no one ever accused a captivated lover of gentility, or did they?”