by C. C. Hunter
“Count,” Miranda said and started moving again.
“One. Two. Three.” Tabitha’s voice sounded closer and closer with each step. Meanwhile Miranda tried to keep her orientation so that when she found the courage she could go back and check on the foot.
Or rather the body connected to the foot.
Oh, God. She hoped there was a body connected to the foot. Her breath hitched in her throat.
“Is this you?” she asked, her shoe hitting something.
“Yeah,” Tabitha answered, her voice shaky.
Miranda moved a few more inches until she felt the wall and then she turned and sat down beside her half-sister who immediately started sniffling again. “Don’t cry.”
“Don’t tell me what to do. I’m locked in the dark with a dead person. And probably a ghost. Oh shit, I hate ghosts.”
“We don’t know if there’s a ghost,” Miranda said. But right then she figured out what this place might be. Spooky music ran through her mind. Chances were this place wasn’t just a dungeon, but part of the catacombs. Old mines for limestone used to build Paris thousands of years ago. Alone that wouldn’t have been so bad, but then the mines had been used as a place to toss the dead.
Tabitha was right. They probably had ghosts down here.
“Stop making this worse than it is,” Miranda said and told herself the same thing. “We don’t even know if … if they are dead. And we need to figure a way out of here.”
“They haven’t spoken and I’ve been in here for a good twenty minutes.”
“Well, maybe they’re unconscious?” Miranda said. “Why don’t we hold our breath and listen to see if anyone else is breathing.”
“Okay,” Tabitha answered.
Miranda heard her sister inhale and she did the same.
Silence filled the blackness and not a sound entered their prison.
“They’re dead!” Tabitha squealed.
But right then, Miranda heard it. “Shh. Listen.”
“To what?”
“Be quiet.” Miranda tilted her head and locked the air in her lungs.
She heard it again. Too far away to be Tabitha. A short, light sound of someone drawing in a shallow breath. “Did you hear it? Someone is breathing.”
“But why aren’t they talking?”
“Like I said, because they’re unconscious. Maybe I should check on them,” Miranda said. “I just wish…”
“Wish what?” Tabitha asked.
“I wish I could see what I was doing. Wish I could see if … the door I was thrown in is the only way out.” She had no idea what the catacombs looked like. Did these mines have back doors? Miranda blinked and tried to make out shapes in the blackness. But nothing came. She touched the wall, it felt like dirt. Was this just one big room, or was it like a tunnel? “I tried to make light.”
“There’s a black spell curse, I can smell it,” Tabitha said.
“I know. I smelled it, too.”
“So we can’t do anything. We just stay here until we … until we fall unconscious, too. And die. We’re gonna die here.”
“No!” Miranda snapped. “We do something. I’m not just gonna give up.” She inhaled and tried to think of what to do. Silence filled the space, time passing in slow, dark seconds.
Tabitha shifted and then spoke up again. “I can’t die,” she said, her voice sounding tight again. “I saw Daddy this morning and I told him I hated him. I can’t let that be the last thing I said to him.”
Miranda found her sister’s hand and squeezed it. “We’re not going to die. Burnett, Kylie, and Della are looking for us. They’ll find us. But for the record, I don’t think … I think our dad knows you really don’t hate him.”
“I’m just so mad at him,” Tabitha said.
“Me, too,” Miranda confessed.
“Did you see him, too?” Tabitha asked.
Miranda nodded and then realized Tabitha couldn’t see her. “Yeah.”
“What did he say to you?”
Miranda paused, unsure if she should tell Tabitha what he said about loving Miranda’s mother. It would probably only hurt Tabitha. “He tried to explain things.”
“Did he tell you that he loves your mother, because that’s what he told me and that’s when I told him I hated him.” She hiccupped. “But I don’t hate him. I hate your mom.”
Miranda swallowed, unsure now was the time to talk about this, but she supposed there would never really be a right time. “He told me that he and your mom were separated when he met my mother.”
“But he was still a married man, and she had no right—”
“He told me that my mother didn’t know he was … married. Not at first.”
She heard her sister take in a deep gulp of air. “It’s still not right. It hurts.”
“I know,” Miranda said. “It hurts me, too.”
Then Miranda heard the slight inhale of air again from across the room. She wondered how long this person had been down here. Alone.
At least she and Tabitha had each other.
She closed her eyes and tried to come up with a plan to help them escape. She knew Burnett, Della, Kylie, and probably even Perry and Shawn were all looking for them, but that didn’t mean she and Tabitha could just sit and wait. “Who the hell is doing this?” she muttered.
Tabitha must have shifted, but the subtle sound echoed. “I don’t know for sure, but…”
“But what?” Miranda demanded.
“They took both me and Sienna. But they didn’t throw Sienna down here.”
“What are you saying? You think Sienna is doing this?”
“No, but I think … her mom might be.” A light gulp filled the silence. “Right before they threw me in here, I could swear I heard Sienna’s mom tell the other vampire to bring her inside.”
Miranda exhaled. “Well, Burnett was going to have a meeting after the practice with the parents. He’ll figure it out. He’s good at that.”
A long silence filled the space. “You seem to have a lot of faith in him,” Tabitha said.
“Yeah, I do. He’s … like family.” She closed her eyes a second. “Wait,” Miranda said as a realization hit. “We’re family. We’re half-sisters.”
“Duh,” Tabitha said.
Miranda rolled her eyes. “Can we not hate each other right now?”
“I didn’t say I hated you,” Tabitha said. “I hate—”
“Forget it. Look, what I was gonna say is that maybe the black spell is strong enough to stop one person’s magic, but if … if we share enough of the same DNA we can try to do blood magic. Maybe with the two of our powers together we can undo the black spell.”
“You’re right,” Tabitha said. “I remember Candy and Sandy did a performance once at a contest. But … they are twins, and we’re just half-sisters.”
“We won’t know unless we try,” Miranda insisted.
“Okay. Do you remember how they did it?” Tabitha asked.
“Sort of,” Miranda said. “They held hands and chanted and said they meditated on the same thing.”
“So what are we going to try to do?”
“Some light would be nice. Then I’ll see if I can help our friend here.”
“Okay,” she said. “What’s the chant?”
Miranda let her brain work. “How about … out with dark, in with bright, together we ask for blessed light.”
Tabitha repeated it and then said, “Sounds good.”
Miranda started the chant and gave her half-sister’s hand a squeeze. Tabitha joined in. They said it once, twice, then three times.
“It’s not working,” Tabitha said.
“Maybe we’re doing something wrong.” Miranda tried to remember everything the twins had said about blood spells.
“Maybe we’re not meditating right,” Miranda said. “Are you practicing visualization?”
“Yes,” Tabitha said.
“What are you visualizing?” Miranda asked.
“A flashlight,” her
half-sister said.
“Oh, I was going with a candle.”
“Why a candle?” Tabitha asked. “This is the twenty-first century.”
“Because it felt … Never mind, you’re right. Let’s try it again.”
Just before they started the chant again, a moan escaped. Tabitha jumped closer to the Miranda. “I hate this.”
“Come on,” Miranda said. “We’re wasting time.”
They tried again, repeating the spell twice. Three times. Four. Right before she was about to give up, the smell of the herbs grew stronger as if someone knew their spell was being tested.
Tabitha moaned. “It’s not—”
“Don’t stop!” Miranda said and clutched her sister’s hand tighter. Then all of a sudden the sound of something thudding to the ground sounded. When it did, the pungent smell grew ten times stronger.
“What was that?” Tabitha asked, her hold still tight on Miranda’s hand.
“Maybe a flashlight?” Miranda got on her hands and knees. Feeling her way and moving slowly.
“If it was a flashlight why wasn’t it lit?”
“Maybe the powers that be thought the least we could do was to turn it on. Come on, let’s see if we can find it.”
She heard her sister scrambling around. Tabitha’s sigh echoed in the sheer darkness. “Someone has strengthened the black spell. Do you smell that?”
“Yeah, but I still think we succeeded at this one.” Miranda’s words seemed to be swallowed up by the murkiness.
“It probably wasn’t a flashlight,” Tabitha whined.
Miranda knew she was being an optimist, but sometimes that’s all one had. “You don’t know that. Keep looking.”
“Hey,” Tabitha said. “I think … You were right!”
A circular light beamed on the ceiling.
“We did it.” The sensation of power filled Miranda’s chest, even when she knew this might be all they got.
Tabitha shifted the light. Miranda followed the beam. “There are tunnels,” her sister said. “Maybe there’s a way out.”
“Yeah,” Miranda said, and continued to watch as her sister slowly shifted the light. The circular beam stopped on a young man—dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. He lay so still that Miranda worried he was dead. That the intake of air they’d heard had been his last.
Finally, his chest shifted ever so slightly. “He’s alive,” Miranda said.
Both Miranda and Tabitha stood up.
“I know.” Tabitha backed away. Miranda edged closer. With each step, the smell of blood got stronger. And this time, it wasn’t her blood.
“Shine it on his face,” Miranda said, and when she took another step, the orb of light slipped up above the neck of their fellow prisoner. She squinted at the individual—at his forehead—something all supernaturals did to identity another species.
The pattern finally emerged.
“He’s vampire.” Tabitha caught Miranda by the arm and tugged her backward. “He’s probably one of them. Don’t get close to him. He … he might attack.”
“If he was one of them, why would they have locked him up?” Miranda tugged the flashlight from Tabitha’s hand and shifted it down his torso. There on his light blue shirt was a big bloodstain. His shirt looked ripped. Had he been stabbed or was he shot?
“Look, he’s been hurt,” Miranda said and looked back at her sister. “He’s not one of them.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s nice. Even if he’s not one of them, he’s probably hungry and if he wakes up … he … he’ll want blood. I say let’s take our light, follow the tunnel, and get as far from him as possible. Maybe we can even find our way out.” She took the flashlight back and pointed in the opposite direction.
Miranda’s gaze stayed on the dark spot where the nearly dead vampire lay. With the beam of light, even not pointed at him, she could still see the shape. She heard him moan again, a little louder, as if he was somehow aware of the light.
“Don’t get too close. He’ll smell your blood,” Tabitha bit out. “And you know what he’ll do.”
Tabitha’s warning had merit. Miranda had heard horror stories of others killed trying to help stray and injured vampires. And yet what if that was Della, or Burnett, or any one of the vampires at Shadow Falls? What if someone let them die?
“Come on, there’s a pathway over here,” her half-sister said and gave her another tug. “Let’s get away from him before he wakes up and kills us both.” Tabitha took her hand and squeezed. “Maybe the black curse isn’t as strong deeper into the tunnel.”
“No.” Miranda dropped her sister’s hand. “We can’t just leave him to die. We have to help him.”
“Are you freaking nuts?” Tabitha asked. “The only way to help him is to give him blood.”
“I know,” Miranda said.
“Well, we kind of need ours!” she spit out.
“We don’t need all of it.” Miranda remembered how in the beginning the idea of donating blood to the vampire bank had repulsed her. Then Kylie had agreed to do it and Miranda went along.
Funny how all her time at Shadow Falls had almost made her forget how prejudiced the outside world could be. “My friend Kylie says that people donate blood to blood banks all the time. Giving it to vampires is the same thing.”
“That’s different.” Tabitha caught her by the arm. “Look, I know you got that vampire girlfriend, and you live at that school where everyone gets along, but this is the real world. You don’t know if he’s rogue and—”
“He doesn’t deserve to die.”
Tabitha put the light under her chin, creating some eerie shadows on her face and she glared at Miranda. “I can’t believe you. He’s a vampire.”
Miranda glared right back. “I can’t believe my sister is a bigot.”
“I’m not!” Tabitha snapped and sounded genuinely offended. “I don’t dislike vampires. But if it’s my life or his, or my half-sister’s, well, I choose us. He could be rogue, and if you give him a little blood, he might … just want more.”
“Look, I know it might be dangerous, but I can’t just let him die.”
“You didn’t do that to him. You aren’t responsible.”
“I am if I leave without trying to help. You can leave if you want. And as soon as he’s better, we’ll try to find you.”
Tabitha shook her head. “You are gonna die. He’s going to be bloodthirsty and you are going to get all the blood sucked out of you. Then he’ll probably rip you open and eat your liver. I hear they like livers.”
“No,” Miranda said, but her stomach quivered.
“No, you’re not going to die or no, they don’t like livers?”
“No, I’m not going to die,” Miranda said, thinking she recalled Della mentioning livers being a prime body part. Then, feeling her pulse pumping to the tune of fear, she watched Tabitha stomp off. With the flashlight.
Hey, that was her flashlight, too, Miranda thought.
She stood there, part of her screaming to run after her sister—but she couldn’t. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself knowing she’d let someone die. Someone who could be as good as Burnett, or Della.
In only seconds, the shadows seemed to move closer and complete darkness fell on her. Her heart thumped against her breastbone. She could hear Tabitha’s footfalls moving away. Growing quieter, until she couldn’t hear anything. Alone.
The sound of someone taking a deep breath echoed and seemed to argue with her last thought. Okay, not alone.
Stiffening her backbone, she turned back to where she knew the injured vampire lay. “Please don’t prove her right. I kind of like my liver.”
Chapter Seventeen
Miranda took one step. Then the darkness seemingly attacking her from all angles started to fade. She swung around and saw the orb of light moving back toward her.
Tabitha? The light came closer. Her footsteps sounded. Then her shape became visual. She kept walking and didn’t stop until they stood face-to-face.
“You lied,” Miranda said, emotion in her throat.
“About what?” Tabitha asked, a frown on her lips.
“At the apartment when I told you I’d saved your life. You said you wouldn’t save mine.”
“I haven’t saved you,” she said. “We’re still stuck down here, possibly with a rogue vampire, and a black curse hanging over our heads.”
Miranda smiled. “Yeah, but you came back. That means—”
“Maybe I just didn’t want to be alone.”
Miranda heard the lie in her sister’s voice. “That or you actually care a little bit.”
“Fine,” Tabitha said. “I care. But if I die, or you die, I’m never going to forgive you for this.”
“We’re not going to die,” Miranda said, and with the warm fuzzy feeling spilling from her heart, she suddenly believed it.
Her sister shined the flashlight at the vampire, then took a deep breath and met Miranda’s eyes. “I’m really not a bigot. I can’t stand it when people judge other people. It’s just … vampires scare me a little.”
“I know,” Miranda said. “They used to scare me, too. But believe me, I couldn’t have a better friend than Della.” She reached over and touched Tabitha’s arm. “Thank you. For coming back.”
Tabitha nodded. “So how do we do it?”
“I’ve got a plan.” Miranda rubbed her injured hand and then squeezed it to see if she could get it to bleed again. She didn’t say it was a good plan. Would it work? She didn’t really know. The only way she’d donated blood was with a needle and a bag. “When they threw me in here I cut my palm a little. I think if I … if I just put my hand there, he’ll smell blood and … bite.”
Tabitha’s eyes went wide with panic. “If he hurts you or won’t stop, I’ll … I’ll hit him with the flashlight. Hard. Really hard.”
She almost told Tabitha if he wouldn’t stop, to run like hell. Oh God, was she putting Tabitha’s life on the line to do something … stupid? Another moan left the vampire’s lips. No, Miranda’s heart told her they were doing the right thing. She had to believe it.
Besides, if the black curse didn’t lift, they could really use another person to help out—someone strong like a vampire.
She moved closer to the crumpled figure. “Shine the light on my hand.” Looking at her hand, she pushed on the fleshy part of the palm until she saw some blood ooze out. Then she dropped on her knees. She tasted fear on her tongue, but put her hand close to the vampire’s mouth.