Paranormal Magic (Shades of Prey Book 1)

by Margo Bond Collins

  I stand and step closer to him. “You’re a dead man, Oliver.” I say darkly.

  “She’ll pick me,” he spits.

  My stomach turns at his words. “No, Oliver…she won’t,” I feign confidence. “She will be in my arms, in my bed, before the end of tomorrow.” His eyes narrow at me, his lips curled up in anger. “Don’t be mad, Oliver, at least one of you gets to live.”

  We stand toe to toe, glaring at one another, neither of us willing to back down. He’s strong and determined, clearly believing the old saying that ‘love conquers all.’ I want to break him both physically and mentally. Death would be too good for him.

  He snarls at me, his eyes glowering with hatred. “She’ll always love me,” he says. The words are quiet and said with earnest, but I see the defeat in his eyes and my own heart leaps with joy. “No matter what.”

  To save her, he has to give her up. He knows that I will win, no matter how much he fakes it. “You won’t even be a memory to her soon.” I say with satisfaction.

  He pulls his hands through his hair. “Why are you doing this to me?” his voice quavers. “To us?”

  It’s a good question. Why am I engaging in this charade? I’m going to kill him anyway. It’s only a matter of time and he knows it. Maybe it’s the game. Maybe it’s the revenge, or perhaps I just want her to make an actual choice between us even if I never allow them to be together again. I want her to choose me. I need her to choose me. Hell, I demand that she choose me over him!

  Why do I even want her so much? My feelings for Mia have taken me by surprise. They are devouring me from the inside out. Perhaps it is the fact that I’m so used to getting my own way and have suddenly found myself unable to get what I want. Nevertheless the reason, I suppose, does not truly matter. I do want her, and I do want to destroy this man for having something that I want.

  “Get him out of my sight, Ava.” I have to walk away before I tear him apart.

  Ava grips both of his arms, restraining him from following me. “You know I’m right, don’t you. You know she loves me,” he shouts at my retreating back. Every ounce of me wants to go back and kill him. I storm away; it’s best to wait before I kill him. Make sure that he suffers.

  Perhaps I will make him watch me with her.

  Seventy-two hours previously.

  Oliver

  I open the door a crack, peering into the circular foyer. “Mr Breckt?” My voice echoes back to me.

  It feels cold and empty inside. Although filled with furniture, it still seems devoid of any character. This is a house, not a home.

  I step further inside and clear my throat, shouting louder. “Mr Breckt? Hello?”

  My eyes stray around me in search of someone—anyone. I listen for a noise from in the house to show me that people are around.

  Nothing.

  Silence.

  I need to get the next lot of sketches checked so that I can finish the plans this weekend. I hope that I can get the team working on them next week, and that will get me one week closer to finishing this job.

  I walk down the corridor. The walls have been refitted out of glass, and the sun is hot when it pours in. I feel like I’m under a magnifying glass.At the end of the corridor, there’s another circular foyer with several closed wooden doors leading off it.

  Which way to go? I spin in a circle, trying to decide, eyeing up each direction on its own merit. They all look the same. This foyer seems almost identical to the one I came in by, apart from the overbearing bookshelf on the back wall. I sigh in frustration.

  I walk to the bookshelf, glancing at the titles of each book. They all seem old but in pristine condition.

  I pick one up and flip through it. It’s filled with stories I’ve never heard of. I look at the other books more closely. There are history books about times in history that I don’t know of, and I feel my forehead frown when I read the titles on each one. I run my hand along their spines until I feel a soft click beneath my fingers, and then bizarrely…the bookcase slides open to reveal a dark doorway. I flinch and back away. Looking down, I can see steps leading into a murky corridor with lanterns lighting the way along the walls.

  I can’t help but wonder where they lead to and I take a furtive glance behind me before taking a step down, curiosity getting the better of me.

  Present day.

  Mr Breckt

  Mia might love him, but she will end up loving me. Whether she wants to or not. I make my way to my study and take a seat at my desk. My head is banging. I’m thirsty; I haven’t fed in days. I’ve been so preoccupied with thoughts of her.

  My stomach is empty and my blood burns, moving sluggishly round my body. I look in the mirror on my desk; my skin looks pasty and unhealthy. I need to feed if I am to look my best for her. Now that I have him out of the way, I should go and see her as soon as possible. A knock on the door brings me out of my reverie.

  “Sir?” Chris, my Pledge: always too eager to please, always too eager to become comes in.

  I sigh. “What?”

  “What do you want me to do tonight? Should I go back there?” He looks hopeful, a lascivious look on his face. He’s receiving a surprise bonus for spying for me—the flatmate, Rachael. I’m not happy about the situation but it does get him into the apartment. I don’t like the fact that he gets to be around Mia more than I do, either, but what can I do? At least he is getting information for me.

  “Yes, go.” My stomach rumbles. My headache is excruciating. “Now that Mr Walsh is out of the way, it’s time I made my move. I need to know where she is going, whom she’s going with. I need to know what she likes, what she does not. Information is what you’re there for and don’t forget it, or it will be to your demise. Do you understand me, Pledge?”

  The room is swimming in and out of focus. How long has it been? I bring my hand up and rub my temples.

  “Yes, Sir.” I hear him swallow; his blood is moving faster around his body now that he’s frightened. I want to leap over the table and sink my fangs into him, drink from him until he is nothing but a shrunken prune of a corpse. I grip the sides of the table. Every move from him is like an irritation on me—a scab being picked from my skin. Everything is too loud, too sensitive, too…

  “Pledge!” I near shout when he turns to leave.

  “Yes?” He swallows again and turns back to face me, his eyes wide and fearful.

  “Do we have anything in to eat?” I try to keep my voice level and calm, but it quavers on the last word.

  He looks pleased. “Oh yes, Sir. I filled the pantry just yesterday. Should I fetch you something?”

  I smile, my fangs slipping out of their sheaths in eagerness.

  “Yes. Go now, straight away.” I dismiss him with a wave of my hand.

  He turns to leave again and stops. “Any preference, Sir?” He turns back to me with a smile. It’s evil and vulgar, just like him. I feel bloody bile rising in my throat. I hate him seeing me like this.

  “Female,” I say darkly, “black hair.”

  He looks boldly at me, already thinking about his choice.

  “Yes, Sir, you won’t be disappointed. I have someone perfect for you.” He turns and scurries off.

  Go now, little rat! I listen to his footsteps run all the way down the hall until he is out of range.

  It has been four days since I fed, I realise with surprise. How can it have been four days? Where has the time gone? My stomach rolls in hunger. I have been using my powers too much; I’m not sure how I have lasted this long without fresh blood. I daren’t look at myself in the mirror again for fear of what I will see. How have I not realised that it had been this long? How am I even still functioning at this level?

  He has been gone too long. The room is pulsating as my body struggles to conserve its energy. Panic rises within me and I stand and sway on unsteady feet.

  Where is he? The little maggot. Slithering his way inside of something that he has no true understanding of. Something dangerous, deadly, and so old tha
t it has been around since the beginning of time. I hate men like him. He’s evil before he is even one of us. I cannot imagine how he will transform. I can only hope that he doesn’t get the chance.

  I hear his footsteps coming back, hurrying, muffling as he pushes the wooden door open with his elbow and then drags in a young, dark-haired girl. She cannot be more than eighteen, and she will be all the more sweet for her youth. She’s a pretty little thing too.

  My fingers deftly undo the buttons of my jacket. I slip it off and move to her side before they are both even fully in the room. I take her arm and pull her to me.

  She is sniffling behind her gag, tears pouring freely from her eyes. Her hands are bound behind her with rope, which has cut into her skin. Her wrists have rubbed until they are sore and blooded.

  The blood. My stomach gurgles.

  Seventy-two hours previously.

  Oliver

  It’s dark down here, despite the flames on either side of the wall. The shadows cast by the glow look like puppets dancing and cajoling, moving me forward. I shiver and look away from them, I’m spooking myself now.

  My brain is screaming, run, but I continue onwards regardless. My boots scrape on the last step and I look back up to the way I came. Back up into the light, the fresh air, and the warmth, the way I should be going.

  I don’t go back though; I continue through the damp, musty maze of corridors, my hands clenched tightly by my sides until finally, I reach a dark corridor with a heavy wooden door. I try it, twisting the handle under my now sweaty palm, but it’s locked.

  I walk on further and see a second door. I try the handle, but it’s locked like the previous one. I move on and then stop, looking back hesitantly.

  I heard a noise.

  I go back to the door and try the handle again, and when it still refuses to open, I knock gently on it. I could have sworn I heard something from behind the door.

  My heart is racing, and sweat is slick along my back, trickling down between my shoulder blades. A chill slithers down my spine when I hear movement from inside again.

  “Hello?” my voice is barely a whisper. Time stands still while I wait for a reply. There are no sounds apart from the hammering in my chest, thumping manically against my ribs. The blood rushing around my body sounds like an ocean in my ears. Please don’t answer back, please, I beg, but then horrifyingly…

  “Hello?” a voice from within. So soft, I barely hear it. I’m unsure if I even imagined it until I hear it for a second time. “Hello?” The voice is louder now, followed by a sob. It’s a woman? A girl? Jesus, what’s going on?

  “Hello?” My throat is suddenly too dry, my breathing too shallow. “Are you okay?” I look up and down the corridor; I’m still alone with just the woman behind the locked door.

  “Help me. Please help me!” Fear and desperation, that’s all I hear when she speaks.

  Time restarts for me. “Who are you?” I ask, looking around for something to help me pry the door open with.

  Another sob. “Hayley…my name’s, Hayley. Please get me out of here, I want to go home.”

  I try the handle again, giving it a firm jiggle. I pull it, twist it, and heave myself against it, But it doesn’t budge. There is nothing down here to help me open the door. I check along the floor and walls, searching for a key.

  Then I notice them. The other doors.

  They line each side of the hallway; there must be twenty on either side, at least. I feel dizzy; my head spins with the horror of what could be in each room. I need to get out of here.

  I put my face close up to the door with the woman inside—the one I know for sure has a woman in. A woman who is frightened and wants to get out.

  “Hello, Hayley, I’m going to get help. Are you okay? Are you hurt?” I whisper.

  “No, no, please don’t go. Don’t leave me here, please,” she begs. She’s desperate, but if I don’t leave, I can’t get help. I check my phone but there’s no signal.

  I lean my forehead on the door. “I promise I’ll come back, I’ll come straight back. I’m going to get help, the police, anyone.” My throat is tight with fear.

  Fear for her.

  Fear for me.

  Fear for whatever is behind the other locked doors.

  What if this isn’t what I’m thinking? What if there is an explanation for this? But what explanation could there be for keeping someone locked up?

  She’s shouting now, banging on the door and sobbing. “No, don’t go, please don’t go, don’t leave me!”

  “Shhhhhhhh,” I hush. Fear tickles along my neck. She’s making too much noise. She’s going to get me caught, and then what? “I won’t be long; you’re going to be okay. Be quiet, please,” I try to calm her down.

  But she’s manic now with the terror that I’ll leave her, throwing her body against the door and screaming at me, crazy with fear.

  “No, no, no! Don’t go,” she’s begging me again.

  Tears break free from my eyes, pouring down my face in twin streams as I try to calm her, to hush her…for both of our safety. But it’s pointless: she’s gone. Lost in her panic.

  “Hush, hush, please, please.” I beg.

  Fear like this can only happen for one reason. This is a bad, bad place and shamefully I turn to run, but stop abruptly.

  Behind me is a young woman. Her body is tall and statuesque, her face angelic. She’s expressionless when she looks at me. Time has stopped again, the woman suddenly silent behind her door as if sensing something evil is close by.

  The woman in front of me takes a deep breath in, her nose rising higher, and she closes her eyes. I want to run, but my feet refuse to move. Satisfied, she opens her eyes back up.

  She smiles widely, two bright white fangs slipping down from her gums, and then she moves towards me. “Hello.”

  Present day.

  Mr Breckt

  I smell her, taking in her scent, licking gently along her neck, finding the exact point of the vein where her blood will flow the quickest. My hands curl into her hair and I pull her face to mine, kissing her forehead tenderly. She is so much smaller than I am. My physique is built and heavy against her delicate frame. She looks into my face and my fangs slip from their sheaths, making her eyes widen in terror.

  She is screaming behind her gag, pulling away from me, shaking her head from side to side. She looks pleadingly to Chris, who sits by the door. He is licking his lips and leering at her as if he is already one of us, just waiting for his turn to drink from her. I should throw him out of the room, find something awful for him to do, but I don’t have the time or the energy right now. My body yearns for blood and I look away from him, focusing my attention on her.

  I hold her head to the side, keeping it in place while I stroke her hair out of the way. She—this girl—does not smell like Mia. I frown at her smell. She smells dirty and musky.

  Mia smells of…she smells of? I don’t know. What does she smell of? It is unidentifiable. Unique and beautiful. Just like her.

  I picture Mia’s face when I bury my fangs into the girl’s neck. Her blood rushes into my mouth in a flurry of heat and iron. I swallow, gulping down every drop of it, drawing her body closer to me as I suck harder. She is soft where I am hard. She is warm where I am cold. But we are both dead now. I drop her empty body to the floor like a rag doll.

  The buzz hits me hard, nearly knocking me off my feet. My equilibrium takes a second to right itself; I feel my skin and hair thickening and plumping back out.

  Aaaah, yes. That’s better, much better. I look around me and take everything in, every detail. Every sense is heightened and in tune to my body once more.

  I smile and take to my desk to begin my preparations. The Pledge drags the body out of the room and shuts the door behind him, the smell of death leaving with the girl.

  I wonder what Mia will taste like?

  Seventy-two hours previously.

  Oliver

  “So, Oliver. It seems you have found the basement.”
Mr Breckt laughs, but I must be missing the joke because I’m failing to see what’s so funny. I stand with my arms across my chest, a frown set deep within my forehead. He stops laughing abruptly, walks over to a desk, and pours himself a drink. Scotch, I presume from the amber colour.

  The freakish woman hasn’t left my side, but she isn’t holding onto me anymore. She stares at me, her dark brown eyes—almost black—stare into the side of my face.

  “So, what are we going to do with you now, eh, boy?” He eyes me over the rim of his glass, his look suddenly serious. Fear tickles the back of my neck.

  I straighten my shoulders up. “I’m not your boy! And you ain’t going to do anything with me. People know that I’m here.” Why do I feel so afraid? He’s just a man. But the woman, what the hell is she? I chance a glance to the side of me. She’s still there, staring at me. I look back at Mr Breckt, who takes a long swallow of his drink and sits down behind the desk, unperturbed by my outburst.

  “I don’t know what you have going on down there, and I don’t want to know, but I’m going to leave here in a minute, and when I do I’m going straight to the police.” My heart is hammering in my chest, and I swallow the bile that is rising.

  Mr Breckt swishes his drink around in the glass, watching it slosh up the sides. He seems entranced for the moment, and I can’t help but wonder if he even heard me, until he answers.

  “Oliver…” He hesitates on his words before continuing. “Oliver. You have something that I want.” He looks at me, his eyes narrowing. “Let’s not play around anymore. I want her, Mia.” The air feels like it has stilled around us. I can’t find the words to reply to him, what do I say to that?

  “So, in light of our current situation, I’m going to make a deal with you.” Mr Breckt stands back up, turning his back to me and looking out of the window. “This isn’t something that I normally do; I hope that you understand that. I don’t have to do this, but I quite like the chase and I feel I haven’t had a fair chance at…her.”

  My hair bristles at the thought of him near Mia. My teeth grind, but I keep my mouth shut while he continues.