Sanguinity (Henri Dunn Book 3)

by Tori Centanni

  “I’m not asking for me,” I said, surprised. Though to be fair, he’d jumped to the most obvious conclusion. I remembered Erin saying they were keeping the murders from most of the local witches, and tried to think of a way to phrase it without spilling the whole story. “If someone were trying to create a spell like that, what would it take?”

  Mark straightened. “Pixie dust.”

  I snorted.

  “Seriously, Henri, magic has limits, and that’s definitely one of them.”

  “But vampires are magic and they’re immortal.”

  There were even legends that said vampires were created when, thousands and thousands of years ago, some kind of death ritual or spell had gone awry.

  “Your magic—” he stopped and corrected himself. “Vampire magic is physiological. It’s in the blood. A magic spell cannot achieve that kind of power without some serious juice, and even then, it’s never been successfully done. It’s pure fantasy. And anyone who’s promising you that crap should be locked up as a danger to themselves and others.”

  A guy at the other end of the bar waved for Mark’s attention, so he went off to take care of him. I popped one of the martini olives into my mouth. It was briny, with the bite of alcohol. When Mark returned, I asked, “So, if one of your witch friends told you they’d found a way to make a spell for immortality or invincibility work, what would you say?”

  “I’d tell them they’d had too much to drink. People have tried. Obviously they’ve tried. Getting that amount of power requires…” He trailed off. “Just, nasty stuff. And even with that amount of energy, there’s no record of such a spell ever being successful. It’s not possible.”

  “So no real witch would ever attempt it?”

  He shrugged. “That’s like saying no real vampire would try to walk in the sun. It’s not a smart thing to do, but I’m sure some take the risk.”

  “Okay,” I said. “What about resurrection spells?”

  Mark eyed me curiously, clearly unsure how he felt about this conversation. “What about them?”

  “Do they work?”

  “What exactly are you trying to do?”

  “Just understand how magic works,” I said, which was true. I couldn’t solve magical murders without understanding how or why they might happen.

  Mark turned to print a woman’s check, sliding it over to her, before facing me again. “There was a guy from my Guild who used to come in here. You might have seen him. Dark hair, always wore a snake amulet?”

  I shrugged. It didn’t ring any bells.

  “His name was Barry Cutter.” A chill washed over me at the familiar name. The witch who’d died of cancer and written the kind of spells I was asking about. “He was really into necromancy and resurrection—”

  I opened my mouth but Mark held up a hand. “In theory. Not practice. He liked researching the history of such attempts. I thought it was interesting, too, so sometimes when it was slow, he’d tell me about his latest research projects.”

  “So resurrection spells are more likely to work than immortality spells.”

  Mark shrugged. “Not really. I mean, with resurrection, all you’re bound to get is a mindless animated corpse. At least according to all of the incidents Barry found. Doesn’t seem to work. Magic can only do so much, you know?”

  I nodded. Vampirism was the same. It could save people from the brink of death, but it couldn’t bring them back past a certain point. I thought of Cazimir in his vampiric coma and shuddered. I hoped that wasn’t the case with him.

  A woman down the bar waved at Mark, needing another round, so he went back to work. I sat there and mulled it over. Every witch said the same thing: immortality and invisibility spells were the stuff of legend. So who would bother attempting one? But then again, desperate people did desperate things.

  Which meant that Evan’s theory about someone trying to resurrect Barry Cutter wasn’t off the table. Neither was some kind of attempt at using magic to achieve immortality. Both were acts of desperation that required sacrifice, and both seemed equally unlikely to work.

  When I’d finished my drink, Mark came back around to collect the cash I’d put on top of the bill. He got my change and I left it all on the bar for him. I gathered my purse and stood.

  “Can you do me a favor and let me know if anyone in your coven does start bragging about grandiose fairy tale spells?”

  Mark frowned, his brow knitting at the top.

  “Why? What aren’t you telling me?” he asked. Mark was also smart. Back when we used to work together, I’d liked that about him.

  “Just be vigilant, okay? And don’t follow anyone into the woods alone or anything.”

  His frown deepened and I turned to go before my gin-loosened tongue dared to spill the whole story. A huge part of me wanted to tell him. I could use another witch’s opinion, and Mark was the only one I knew. But I’d promised Erin I’d keep it under wraps, and I’d seen how Mark was behind the bar. He loved to gossip. He was absolutely not a person I could trust to keep things quiet.

  As I headed to the door, I passed Elliot’s group. The whole group of mortals went silent when I approached them, half of them staring at me expectantly, the other half looking down at their phones or table as if disinterested in my existence.

  “What?” I demanded.

  One of the girls winced. Brad smirked. Elliot met my eyes.

  “Tell Lark she can stop sending spies to watch us,” Brad said. Elliot had the decency to look slightly embarrassed. “If she wanted to keep us under her thumb, she shouldn’t have kicked us out.”

  “Look, kids,” I said, “Lark doesn’t know I’m here and I guarantee she doesn’t give a rat’s ass where you are or what you’re up to. She sure as shit wouldn’t send me to check.”

  “Yeah, right,” said one of the girls in purple pigtails, who had to be the youngest among them at maybe nineteen. She’d never have been served alcohol in a normal bar. I wasn’t sure she’d been served here. Maybe her bright green drink was a mocktail of some sort.

  I smiled as viciously as I could manage without fangs. “If Lark gave half a shit about any of you, she’d never have tossed you out. Be angry, be bitter, whatever helps you sleep at night, but understand none of the vampires care that you exist. Certainly not enough to send a useless Blood Traitor like me to watch you. Get the hell over yourselves.”

  Some of them looked appalled. One guy, another very gothy one with lots of piercings, looked like he was going to cry. I spun on my heels and marched up the stairs and onto the street.

  That had been kind of a dick move on my part, but what I’d said was true. Lark was smart. If she’d had any desire to keep the mortals close, they’d still be living at her newly remodeled Factory, alongside the other vampires who took up residence there. She’d kicked them to the curb because she didn’t give a fuck about them. The sooner they figured out no vampires were coming to sweep them off their feet and into immortality, the better off they’d be.

  And speaking of immortality…

  Since I was already in a crappy mood, I decided to go see Neha and find out if she’d made any progress on an antidote to her poison.

  Chapter 6

  Neha wasn’t happy to see me, either, but that was nothing new.

  Jake was sitting on the easy chair in her living room, shirtless and hooked up to a heart monitor. He was all lean, corded muscle and angry eyes.

  He glared at me, which was a pretty measured response, given that the last time he’d seen me, I’d basically thrown him to the vampires for a murder he didn’t commit. In my defense, I’d thought he was the culprit at the time, as he’d had a damn good motive. I’d also run back to save him when my doubts started piling up, though given that it hadn’t been me who saved him, I couldn’t blame him for harboring a grudge.

  “I’m busy, Henri,” Neha said impatiently, blocking the door to keep me out of her apartment. “What is it now?”

  Neha sounded tired, but she looked good. She was
dressed in a white lab coat over a teal blouse and black slacks, and appeared well rested. It didn’t take a genius to guess that she was just tired of me.

  Annoyed at yet another unwelcome reception, I dug my fingernails into the palm of the hand holding my purse strap and smiled wickedly in her direction. “I came for a progress report.”

  Neha glanced back at Jake pointedly, as if I gave a single fuck about him knowing that I’d instructed Neha to make an antidote to her Immortality Cure. If she thought Jake was going to shield her from me, she was dead wrong.

  “Well?” I shifted impatiently.

  “Can we discuss this later? I’m with a patient.”

  I stared at her so hard I felt like her hair might actually catch fire. Unfortunately, even as a vampire I’d never had laser vision or the ability to start fires with my mind.

  “You’re giving Jake an antidote to Ray’s whacko werewolf drug,” I said.

  Neha shifted uncomfortably. “I’m giving him booster shots to get him through the withdrawal. His time with me is almost complete.”

  “Right,” I said. I didn’t believe for a second that a serum that managed to turn several grown men into werewolves hadn’t left some pretty deep internal scars. There was no way she could just ease him out of it. “So you didn’t reverse its effects.”

  “The effects wore off,” Jake said angrily.

  “By themselves?” I asked, because that didn’t sound possible to me, layperson though I was.

  “Henri, I can’t make you an antidote. I’ve tried. Serum V-504 works because it destroys the vampirism and eradicates it from the body. It’s a Cure. There’s no antidote for that.”

  Heat radiated from my middle and my chest tightened. “You’re lying.”

  “I’m not lying. It’s simply not possible.”

  I hit the doorframe with my fist. Neha flinched but regained her composure almost immediately. “Go home, Henri.”

  “Give me back my vial of Cure, then,” I said. I’d given her a vial of it that had been found in the possessions of the guy who’d robbed her lab, and then given to me.

  Neha’s forehead crinkled and then she shook her head. “I used it to run some tests to make sure an antidote was not viable.”

  I opened my mouth and closed it again.

  “Henri, even if I could make an antidote, I’d have no one to test it on but you, and there’s no guarantee it’d be safe. Not to mention that I’d need vampire blood, and if you’re going to get a vampire to donate that…” She flipped her hand over, palm up, in a you see where I’m going gesture. “You might as well ask them to donate more directly and turn you.”

  “You owe me an antidote.”

  She sighed. “I don’t owe you anything. I did what I thought was right by making you human again. I’m not sorry.”

  I growled. Actually growled, low and deep. It was a sound I hadn’t made in a long time. Neha started and shook a little, taking a slight step backward. Jake stood, and I realized he was getting ready to come at me if I tried anything.

  I may have wanted to break Neha’s face into pieces, but I wasn’t going to. “I’m not giving you a choice, remember?” I’d told her if she didn’t at least make a serious effort in developing an antidote, I’d let the vampires know exactly who was responsible for the Cure. And if anyone hated the Cure more than I did, it was vampires who were terrified of ending up like me: stripped of their power and human again.

  “I’ve tried,” Neha said, voice quiet. “It’s not possible. Even if it were, I’d need things.”

  “Like what?” I asked, hope rising slowly but surely in my middle.

  “Vampire blood, mainly. And since I don’t have any…” She shrugged, as if we were discussing something unimportant and not my life.

  It took me a moment to blink the red out of my vision and push down my fury. “What if I could get you vampire blood?” I asked.

  Neha’s eyes widened in surprised. She started to shake her head, but I saw a light bulb flicker in her mind. “I could make an attempt. But there’s no guarantee.”

  “Fine. I’ll get it for you.”

  I stormed away, peeling out of her apartment complex’s parking lot and roaring my little sedan onto the road.

  * * *

  Sean was sitting on a bench looking out across the water of Puget Sound. I’d texted him a message that read “I need your blood,” and he’d replied almost immediately. But then, that was pretty much the vampire version of a sext, so of course he did.

  He’d told me to come to Alki Beach, a long drive from Neha’s apartment in Bellevue, but it was almost eleven at night and the roads were clear. Lack of traffic made the trip quick. Finding parking was more of a challenge, but I eventually managed to snag a spot on the street. Then I walked the length of the beach until I found him. He’d given me a general idea of where he was, so I wasn’t wandering aimlessly all night.

  Sean stood when he heard me approach and smiled a broad, unguarded smile. The kind of smile I so rarely saw cross his lips anymore. “Henrietta,” he said, his voice low.

  “Sean,” I said, mimicking his tone. “I need a favor.”

  “So I heard,” he said, still grinning. He reached over and brushed hair off my neck, his fingers dancing lightly over my skin.

  “I need your blood in vials,” I clarified.

  The smile dropped from his face like it’d gotten too heavy to carry. He exhaled sharply. “Is that what this is about?” he asked. “I’m not giving more vampire blood to that scientist of yours. Honestly, you should break her neck and be done with her.”

  “She’s looking for an antidote,” I said. “But she needs vampire blood to find it.”

  Sean didn’t answer right away. The waves of Elliott Bay lapped onto the sand. A bonfire raged in one of the fire pits farther down the beach, and a couple snuggled together under a blanket in front of the crackling flames. The air smelled liked salt and burning pine.

  “Do you really think an antidote is possible?” Sean finally asked. His question took me by surprise. I felt my eyebrows go up.

  “I’ve spoken to others about what it must take to create a Cure to vampirism, Henri. Everyone agrees it’s black magic. And black magic can’t be undone.”

  I did not roll my eyes, but it was a massive effort on my part. “It’s not magic. It’s science.”

  “Same thing.”

  It was my turn to sigh dramatically and look out toward the horizon. The water was black. “It’s not the same.”

  “I’m wary of drinking your blood, but as far as I can tell, it’s no different than any other mortal’s. Whatever was done to you is done. If it left traces, I can’t find them.”

  I turned to stare at him. His head was bent down toward me, and his eyes were soft. “If that’s true, then why don’t you turn me?”

  He pursed his lips and put his hands into his pockets.

  “Cazimir,” I said.

  Sean shrugged and sat down on the bench. He tilted his head back to look up at the nearly cloudless dark sky. After a moment, I sat beside him, keeping a foot or so between us, like we were magnets that might repel each other if we got too close.

  “I’ve seen it before, you know,” he said, eyes flicking over to me.

  “Seen what?”

  “A comatose vampire.”

  “Oh,” I said. I hadn’t known that, though Ryuto had told me a story about another vampire whose turning had gone awry. It was a rare occurrence, but clearly it was known to happen.

  “This person had been turned after a binge at the opium den. His heart had stopped and Angela turned him as quickly as she could. He changed but wouldn’t wake up.”

  My jaw dropped. Angela was one hell of a powerful vampire. She’d turned maybe two vampires in her four hundred years (three, I supposed, counting this comatose vampire), and her sire had been an ancient who’d refused to turn anyone until he met her. The only reason he’d caved was that even as a human, Angela had had incredible mental powers. Today i
t might be called telepathy or being psychic, but back then, she was nearly burned at the stake for witchcraft. I had trouble picturing Angela failing at anything, let alone making a vampire.

  “Christ,” I said. “What happened?”

  “Angela swore he was still in there. He was given three nights to awaken. He did not, and so he was dispatched.”

  “Shit.” I tried to picture anyone daring to cross Angela. It was like trying to defy the ocean.

  Sean lifted his head. “She was not happy, of course. She swore he would have awoken given time, but his brain needed longer to heal.”

  Cazimir had been in an undead coma for over a month. I couldn’t begin to guess what that meant. Was his brain healing? Was he about to wake up? Or was he a lost cause?

  I considered the implications. “So what, Caz is just doomed to play Sleeping Beauty until someone puts him out of his misery?”

  Sean smiled. It was small and cocky, less the boyish smile he’d been wearing earlier, and more like the smile of a cat that was pleased with itself. “Everyone who knows of Cazimir’s predicament is eager to let things play out.”

  “So you haven’t told Lark about him.” I really had no clue what game Sean was currently playing, but I knew that if Lark found out Cazimir was in a coma, she’d do her best to get rid of him. She’d consider it a mercy killing, but I’d consider it a power grab. After all, if he never woke up, he’d never take his Factory away from her.

  “No,” Sean said. “I want to see what happens.”

  “Nice. I’m sure if he ever wakes up, Cazimir will appreciate you making him into an experiment.”

  “I believe that he will wake up,” Sean said. “But until he does, or I can be sure it’s not the Cure that’s causing his state, I am unwilling to turn you again, lest you end up in the same situation.”

  He actually sounded a little sad. A vice squeezed my heart. .

  He reached over and threaded his fingers through mine. His hand was cool, and mine felt burning hot against his skin.

  We sat like that in silence, listening to the waves lap against the sand, for a long while. His thumb smoothed the back of my hand but we didn’t speak. The couple put out their fire and moved along. Street traffic behind us slowed to a crawl.