by Morgan Hawke
He shrugged. “I have an abnormally low temperature, but according to them, everything is roughly in working order.”
“Roughly?”
“They say I have some kind of long-winded, terminal illness.” He grinned. “It’s a rare blood disease, but not unheard of.” He leaned closer. “It makes it real easy to set up a sudden death right before I change identities.”
Rowan tilted her head curiously and swallowed. “How often do you have to do that? Change identities? Become somebody new all over again?”
He played with his cola. “I’ve had to do it twice now.” He frowned. “I just arrange a public suicide, put a note in the papers about my cremation, then go into hiding. Ten years later I show up as a relative.”
Rowan bit, chewed and swallowed. “Hence your grandfather’s company.”
He nodded. “Every once in a while I run across someone who recognizes my face, but they just assume it’s a family resemblance.” He shrugged.
Rowan smiled. “What, no vampire hunters out to get you?”
He smiled back. “Not yet.” He threw out a hand. “So there, I’m not magical, just diseased, which doesn’t account for your glow-in-the-dark routine.”
Rowan pursed her lips. “Diseased? With a terminal illness that doesn’t kill but keeps you young and gives you an appetite for blood?” She raised a brow. “That sounds suspiciously like magic to me.”
“Magic, huh…” He snorted. “So where does this ‘your magic verses my magic’ glow thing come in?”
“Simple, my magic is reacting negatively to yours.” She chewed and swallowed. “I’m just stronger magically than you are so it bothers you rather than me.”
He made a wry face. “So, it’s not me being damned and you being holy, it’s that your magic doesn’t like mine? Then where did all this traditional ‘Damned verses Holy’ stuff come from?”
“You admit to being a predator, but I bet not every, uh, predator, stopped at murder.”
His expression went very neutral. “No, they didn’t.”
“Well, there you go.” Rowan sipped at her soda. “Killing is taboo in just about any religion, that instantly labeled your kind damned. When the priests used holy or rather, magical objects that glowed, that just proved to the common people that your kind was evil.” She shrugged. “Simple propaganda.”
“So holy objects are actually magical?” He frowned. “Since when is religion magic?”
“Ritual is ritual, is ritual…” Rowan sighed. “Religion is the frame that basic magic works in. It’s all centered on belief. Whether it’s for magical gain or just for blessing something, you’re involving some kind of deity in some way, shape or form. A religious ritual generates magic and a magical ritual still calls on deific powers, or gods, for help. Historically, it took a holy person to do magic, magicians were priests and priests were magicians. Realistically, magic and religion are basically the same thing, they’re practically interchangeable.”
“Right…” Rick looked doubtful.
“If it makes you feel any better, my magic works on non-magical people, too, or I wouldn’t be able to do tarot readings.” She made a sour face. “You wouldn’t believe how many people ask me if they’ll go to Hell for getting their fortune told.”
He shook his head. “I still don’t see how I can be magical.”
She nodded then raised a brow. “Let’s see, were you born this way or did somebody do something to make you this way?”
His mouth made a thin tight line. “It was offered, I accepted.”
She looked at him in surprise. “You agreed to be made into a vampire?” Her voice was a very soft whisper.
He turned his head and shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
Being made into a vampire was a good idea at the time? Rowan just stared at him. “Did you know what you were getting into?”
“Some.” He stared out the window. “He explained a few things, I learned the rest.”
She shook her head. “Okay… Whoever did it must have used some kind of ritual means to make you the way you are.”
“He didn’t do any kind of ritual anything.” He looked back at her. “We exchanged blood. He drank mine, then I drank his.”
“You shared blood.” Rowan threw out her hand. “That was your ritual.”
His chin went up. “How?”
“Look, it’s a long explanation, do we really have the time for this?”
“I’ll make time.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “How is sharing blood a ritual? How does this make me magical instead of damned?”
Rowan sighed. She could feel his hunger to know rolling from his skin. Well, come to think of it, if I were a vampire that didn’t kill, I’d want to know that I wasn’t some damned soul condemned to hell just for existing. She nodded. “All right, but you’re getting the short version.” She looked up at him. “You know how you’re actually drinking some of the essence or soul from someone when you feed?”
“Yeah…”
“The sharing of blood is the intermingling of souls. That’s ritual. Any time you involve one soul in contact with another soul, you’re doing ritual because you’ve involved a deific power.”
His brow furrowed. “So every time I feed…”
“You are replenishing your magic.” She sipped at her soda.
He tilted his head to one side. “I’m drawn to artists and musicians, they seem to, um, satisfy my needs better than the average person. Are they magical?”
“Anything that involves the soul is magical.” She shrugged. “Art and music are conceived in the soul, so their creators are magical by default.”
“Then I only needed a little from you, because as a Witch you generate even more magic than they do?”
“Uh, yeah.” Rowan bit her lip. I do not think I want him knowing that I have to feed my magic, too—with sex…
He shook his head. “Okay, I get the soul thing, but I don’t quite grasp where this deific power comes in.”
She tapped her glass with a finger. “Even in basic Christianity, the soul is divine, a literal piece of God.”
His brows rose, then he smiled. “So I’m not the soulless damned?”
“You have a soul or you wouldn’t be moving around. In the simplest of terms, it’s what animates your body.” Rowan gave him a sour smile, then munched on a French fry. “But don’t get your hopes up over the damned part. There are lots of things that stain the soul irrevocably, magically and non-magically. You must have done a few nasty things in your life or that sorcerer in the Goth club wouldn’t have made straight for you.”
Rick’s fingers tapped absently on the tabletop. “Maybe he just didn’t like the way I looked.”
Rowan shook her head slowly and pushed her empty plate to the side of the table. “Demons eat the souls of the corrupt to feed their own corruption. The innocent have nothing for demons to feed off of. That sorcerer targeted you right away. He didn’t even look at anyone else, so you were first on his menu.”
“If a demon is already living in a corrupted soul, why does the sorcerer need to go after others?”
Rowan played with her straw. “To keep his demon under control, a sorcerer has to feed it enough to keep his own soul intact. If he does not feed his demon, the demon will consume the sorcerer, killing him.” She smiled grimly. “As I said before, the sorcerer went straight for you, so you had to have something the demon thought was tasty.”
He gave her a bitter smile. “You’re just full of good news…”
“As I say to all my clients,” Rowan raised her glass in a salute. “Don’t ask unless you really want to know.”
He frowned. “You’re sure that I’m magical?”
Rowan smiled then sipped her soda. “Sorry, Rick, but you are one big hunk of magic walking around. Hell, I knew you were magical as soon as I saw you. I could feel it rolling off your skin, and so can anyone with the sensitivity to it, which includes demons and sorcerers.”
He smiled
suddenly. “You think I’m a hunk?”
It figures that he’d focus on that. Rowan rolled her eyes. “Don’t push your luck.”
Rick made a sour face. He pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his folding wallet, then dropped it on the restaurant bill. “Come on.” He slid out of the booth.
“Where are we going?” She grabbed her bag and slid from her side of the booth.
“The parking lot.” Rick marched up the diner’s isle.
Rowan had to walk quickly to keep up with him. “The parking lot?”
“Yep.” He held the restaurant door open for her. “You have a promise to make.”
“Oh, yeah.” Rowan walked through the doors sourly. Damn it, I’d hoped he’d forgotten about that.
He led her over to the bushes at the far edge of the diner’s parking lot and just out of casual sight. “We might as well get it over with now so I can take you to my house to meet Klaus.”
“Is this really necessary?” The night air was very chilly and Rowan was glad that she had thought to grab her jacket.
Rick turned to face her with a grim smile. “Absolutely.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “I’m ready when you are.”
Rowan sighed, then reached into her red velvet shoulder bag. She pulled out her small, red leather Arte pouch and dug out a plastic bag. Carefully, she unsealed a silver-dipped horseshoe nail.
Rick looked at the nail curiously. “What’s that for?”
Rowan smiled grimly. “My teeth are not as sharp as yours. I had a friend of mine who is a tattoo artist put this nail in his steamer to sanitize it.” She stabbed the sharp nail into the ring finger of her right hand. “Ow,” she muttered softly. Bright scarlet welled and trickled across her finger.
He stared at her finger and the heart of Rick’s eyes ignited with flame. “I would have nipped it for you.”
Rowan raised her brow. “Thanks, but no thanks. Ready?”
He nodded once. “Yeah, do it.”
Rowan stared at the blood dripping down her finger. “I swear to avoid bringing you deliberate harm.” If I’m lucky, I can get away with a small change in the words. Rowan looked up at him. “Will that do?”
He tilted his head but he was frowning slightly. “It sounds about right.”
Yes! She took a soft, calming breath. “Do you accept?”
His frown deepened. “Wait a minute.”
“What?” Rowan concentrated on looking innocent. Stay calm and don’t panic…
A tight smile twisted his lips. “I think I said something more like: I swear never to seek to harm you.”
Rowan raised her brows and deliberately widened her eyes. “That’s pretty much what I said.”
“Nice try, but no cigar.” He raised a brow. “Since when is cheating allowed by your faith?”
Rowan frowned stubbornly. “Who’s cheating?”
He rocked back on his heels. “Come on, just use the same words that I did.”
Rowan’s jaw clenched stubbornly. “What for?”
He tilted his head to one side. “Because I asked you to, and you’re supposed to be one of the good guys, remember?”
Rowan let out a small sound of frustration and glared at him. “You asked me to come here to rescue your ass. Remember?”
He nodded. “Oh, I know exactly why I had you come here.” He smiled suggestively. “Just say it the way I did and get it over with.” His smile broadened to show the tips of his long teeth. “You better hurry. The more you bleed, the hungrier I get.”
“I swear never to seek to harm you,” she bit out. “There.” She clenched her hands and felt the stickiness of blood in her right palm.
“Accepted.”
Rowan felt a shudder sweep through her body and the hair on her arms rose. Her balance shifted and she rocked on her feet. Shit, I didn’t expect it to take that much magic… Desire burst within, instantly soaking her panties.
“What was that?” Rick frowned at her. “Are you all right?
“That was just my magic adjusting to the blood oath.” Rowan blinked at the vampire in surprise. Am I feeling concern coming from him?
“So the oath took?” He sniffed the air between them. “You smell different,” he said softly.
Rowan shrugged. “Yeah, it took.” She dug into her red velvet shoulder bag, then pulled out a tissue. “What do you mean, different?”
He caught her wrist before she could wipe her palm. He drew her palm to his mouth. “Allow me.” His eyes glowed brighter than the streetlight.
“Hey!” She fisted her hand and pulled back. He was unbelievably strong and absolutely unmovable. “Wait a minute, this was not part of the deal!” Rowan shoved a hand between them. His body was very solid.
“I’m not going to hurt you, take it easy.” His flame-lit copper eyes bored into hers from only inches away. “Open your hand,” he said softly and tugged her closer.
She felt a shimmer of something brush against her mind. Her palm opened. She blinked in surprise. Did he just zap me with some kind of mind-power?
He turned his head and his tongue swept her palm. His mouth was warm and wet against her skin. Rowan’s body pulsed with hungry awareness and her mind abruptly closed shop for the winter. Moisture soaked through her panties and dampened her jeans. He slowly cleaned the scarlet smears from her hand.
His lips closed over the wounded finger and he turned his head. His burning eyes locked on hers. He sucked very gently, drawing fresh blood from the small wound. She felt a slight sting. He swallowed, and she watched his throat work. His lips slowly released her finger with a moist, sucking sound. He lowered his head and brushed his reddened lips against hers. Without thought, she opened her mouth to receive his kiss. His tongue swept in to taste her. He was flavored with a hint of bright copper. She was inundated by the scent of potent male with an undercurrent of rich earth.
Rowan felt her knees weaken from the sensual overload. His arms came around her waist to support her. He pulled her firmly against his surprisingly warm body. She felt a broad hand on her bottom pressing her into his hips and the rigid length of his arousal against her belly. He rocked against her and deepened the kiss, hungrily sucking on her tongue and plump lower lip. Rowan heard a pair of animal moans and realized that one of them was from her.
His arms lifted her effortlessly, from her feet. “You taste so damn good,” he said against her mouth. “And you smell like sex.” His smile reeked of satisfaction.
Rowan rapidly awakened from her sensual haze and blinked. “You can put me down now.” Her voice was embarrassingly husky.
“And if I don’t want to?” he asked softly. His eyes narrowed to slits like a cat’s.
Rowan glared at him. “You didn’t call me out here on false pretenses, did you?”
He sighed. “Unfortunately, no.” He let her slide down his body. “Though you could easily talk me into it,” he muttered.
“Get over it.” Rowan stepped back on untrustworthy knees. Goddess, that boy can kiss! She wiped the tissue on her damp hand, then blinked. The wound was gone.
“Spoil-sport.” Rick stepped back and made a wry face. “I suppose I better take you out to my house and get this over with.”
Rowan pulled out her car keys. “I’ll follow you.”
He raised a brow and smiled. “I can drive us both in my Viper.”
Rowan smiled grimly. “Not a chance, Fang Boy.” Rowan strode past him, headed for her Saturn. Not with the way my body is reacting…
“Fang Boy?”
- Six -
Conjuration
Rowan followed Rick’s midnight blue Viper off of the night black highway and into an elegant if elderly district. Whimsical black-iron streetlamps arched over the curving avenue and cast pools of warm amber light that illuminated broad, brick-paved sidewalks. Enormous oaks populated the entire neighborhood alongside charming, turn-of-the-century houses that were bordered by decorative stone, walls and cast-iron fences.
Rick’s car turned off the avenue
and onto a short blind drive. Tall, ornately worked gates of iron and brass swung open to admit both cars.
Rowan followed him onto a broad, brick-paved drive bordered by overhanging oaks. Wow, posh neighborhood, Rowan thought in amazement. Business must be very good for the vampire. She followed him into a tunnel of utter darkness cast by the huge trees. The drive curved to the left, abruptly opening up on a broad lawn. Rowan sat up behind the wheel. That’s a house?
A huge ultra-modern building sat in the center of expanse, artistically lit with floodlights. At first glance, it looked to Rowan like a huge pile of windowed boxes precariously balanced on top of each other in multiple directions. The sharp-angled structure rose upward for four floors and extended across the well-groomed lawn. The building was trimmed with chrome rails and painted in stark shades of gray and black against bone white. Railed porches jutted out at corners and tall windows seemed scattered in random places.
Rowan’s gaze slid up to the breaking clouds above the house. A sliver of moon was showing directly above the house. She bit her lip and squinted at the moon. The whole curve was blood red. That cannot be good...
Rowan followed Rick’s car along the paved drive past the house then all the way around to the back. Rick stopped in front of a squat square and windowless building, painted to match the house. The doors rose upward and folded away to admit his car.
That’s a garage? Rowan’s brows rose wryly. Can you say: functional? She put her Saturn in gear to follow, then bit her lip. On second thought, if I need to leave in a hurry, that automatic garage door could pose a problem. She pulled up and parked along the side of the garage, turned off the engine and unfastened her seatbelt. Grabbing her red velvet shoulder bag, Rowan pulled the trunk-release, then slid out of her car. Closing her door with a thump, she walked around to the car’s rear. She levered her unlocked trunk open, revealing her magical arts satchel.
A voice whispered in her ear. “Something wrong with the garage?”
“Shit!” Rowan jumped and whipped around. Rick was standing with bare inches between them. She could feel the warmth of his body.