Paranormal Magic (Shades of Prey Book 1)

by Margo Bond Collins

“Well, I think I’ve heard enough to make my decision, Mr San.” I sway from the blood buzz flowing through me.

  He stands too, his aura washing around his ankles like a deadly mist. “We can help you kill him, Mia. Make him pay for everything that he has done to you. Everything he has taken from you.”

  I think of Oliver and my family and my heart stabs with pain.

  “Everyone he has hurt.” He murmurs.

  Either way, I am dead with or without Oliver. Literally, not just…well, not just vampire dead. Oliver was my life, my soul. Without him, there is no reason for me to exist. I know I will die getting vengeance for his death.

  “You cannot do it alone, Mia. We can help you.”

  I sway, my decision dangling on a thin, invisible thread between us. If I stay I am going to be fighting for something that I don’t agree with—something that I don’t want to be a part of. But if I leave, I’ll die trying to get my vengeance, and no doubt fail.

  His black eyes watch me carefully as I weigh up my options. “Perhaps you would like to stay for a little longer and think it over? We can have a new room made up for you. You can sleep on it, we can…”

  “NO.”

  He sighs heavily. “Then I’ll leave you to think it over, and you can think about it here. Take your time, have another drink. There’s no rush.” He stands and backs away from me, sensing my indecisiveness. “Have another drink.” He repeats, gesturing to the blood on the table. “I’ll come and see you later.”

  He makes it to the door. “Remember, Mia. Everyone here is counting on you.” His eyes are sad, but I sense that he’s just working me, pulling on my heartstrings so that I will do what he wants. Well, this heart is dead. It died when Mr Breckt turned my life into this nightmare.

  He nods a goodbye as he shuts the door behind him with a soft click. There is silence after he has left. I look around me and see I am alone. Shauna must have left at some point. I stare at the carafe of blood, wanting to pick it up and gulp it all—to drown myself in its glory and forget about my misery. I can think of no finer death than that right now.

  I know that I have had enough to get me by for a while, especially if I don’t exert myself. The smell of it is intoxicating, though, causing my thoughts to mush into one another. My fangs are protruding from my mouth, tingling every time I take a breath and smell it.

  I move away, putting distance between myself and the blood. It won’t do much to help me, but it’s a start, and it’s better than drinking it. I walk around the room to keep myself busy.

  I don’t want to help him. I don’t trust him and I certainly don’t agree with his motives. I can’t understand why anyone else would follow him; his plan holds no logic to me at all.

  I wonder why he hates Mr Breckt so much. Hell, I wonder why he hates this Queen woman so much. My hands stray to the bookshelf as I stroke the books bindings. They are old and fragile looking. I pick one up without thought and glance at the title, but it’s in a language which makes no sense to me. I open it up carefully. The strange language is hand written across every page as I flip through the pages. I put it back and take another one down. However, when I flip through the next one, it’s filled with the same strange language.

  I am about to put it back when I come to the last page. A hand-drawn picture of a vampire biting down on a beautiful maiden is drawn on the inside back cover. Her dress flows around her ankles. A shadow around her feet depicts the blood that flows freely from her neck and down her body. I shudder and put the book back.

  God, I want another drink. I look over to the carafe eagerly, my stomach creasing up at the sight of it. So red. So warm. So delicious.

  Drink it. Drink it. Drink it.

  All I can think about is the blood: its taste, its smell. The feel of it on my tongue, down my throat. The way it puts the fire out in my belly. Like a moth to the light, I glide to it. I am unable to resist its allure. Its call to me is too strong, I simply can’t resist, and I pick it up. I hear the contents slop up the sides, the movement less graceful than when the other vampire poured it for me. This makes it seem too real. I think of the book I looked through, the image of the girl with the blood pouring from her.

  This blood is cold now; I can feel it through the thin glass. However, it had been warm when it was brought in. My forehead creases in anxiety as I realise for the first time that this is someone’s blood. Someone alive—or who had been quite recently. I look to how much there is in the carafe.

  They would still be alive after this much loss, wouldn’t they? My eyes are wide. I don’t know. I can’t answer that honestly.

  I could have been excused before for killing someone; I had no idea what I was doing. I wasn’t in my right mind. But I am now. The blood suddenly seems like a poison to me, destroying what is left of my humanity.

  It slips from my hands.

  Falling…

  Falling…

  Falling…

  I catch it at the last possible moment. No. I need to leave…to escape. The loud smash will only draw attention to me. I place it back down on the table carefully, my stomach growling at the blood denial. I make for the hidden door that I saw earlier. Perhaps that is a secret dungeon? Perhaps it’s the way out? There’s only one way to find out. Shauna steps out of the shadows from the opposite side of the room.

  “Where are you going?” Her voice is quiet but I hear every word, every innuendo not voiced. She steps further from the shadows, and I feel stupid that I hadn’t even noticed her there. It isn’t exactly a hiding place, more of a dark patch across the wall. Her face is a calm mask as she comes forward.

  “Erm…”

  “I said, where are you going?” she repeats, her face a mask of hatred for me.

  “Me?” I point to myself. “Nowhere, I was just looking around.” I make my way back to the table with the blood on it as I mirror her movements—for every forward motion she takes, I move backwards.

  She snarls at me as she comes closer. “Really?”

  “Really. Why? Where did you think I was going?”

  I reach the table, my hand picking up the carafe and my earlier glass as if to pour myself a drink. Anxiety tickles the back of my neck.

  “Do you want one?” I look up at her with a questioning look. My stomach jumps for joy at the bloods proximity.

  She moves ever closer. “No. We aren’t allowed that blood.” Her words are stroppy—less evil torturer and more spoilt child.

  I pause with my items mid-air, looking at her deadpan. “The blood. It’s poisoned isn’t it?” I nod to it still in my hands.

  She moves closer as she frowns even harder at me. “What? No, that’s the fresh blood, straight from the bank. For guests only.” I’m within arm’s reach of her now. “Emancipators are only allowed stock blood.” She says it with such disdain that I can almost taste her dislike of me.

  Stock blood. What the hell is stock blood?

  “So, I guess this stuff is way better than what you’re used to drinking, huh?” I get why she dislikes me so much now. I glance at the red nectar in my hands, so beautiful in the way it seems to shimmer in its container.

  “Yeah…way better. It’s only used to try and convince newbies to join us,” she sneers. “Everyone here thinks that you’re so great. That you’re the one to bring down Mr B.” She pauses for emphasis. “But I don’t.”

  Her aura glows around her the angrier she gets, shifting around as it changes colours rapidly. I can’t tap into what she’s feeling. However, from the look on her face she doesn’t like me. I’m struggling to focus on her. The distraction of the blood and her aura are making it hard to concentrate on what she’s saying.

  She pouts at me. “I don’t want to bring down Mr B.” Her words are flat when she looks me over.

  “Mr B? Is that like a lovers name for him then?”

  She frowns deeper, clearly unhappy with my mocking. “I think that you’re a silly little girl who needs taking down a peg or two, and when I’ve finished with you, I’m
going to finish off this lot too.”

  I’m struggling to maintain my blasé attitude. “So you’re like a spy?” I mock, my eyes following the wispy trails of red floating around her.

  “I guess so.” She smirks, clearly happy with herself. “I want more than just this.” She gestures around her angrily. Her mouth is set in a hard line as she finishes her revelation. I can feel her hatred for me and the rage echoing off her. Her aura is angrily spitting, with sparks of orange and red. I look in her dark, dead eyes and see nothing but emptiness. Emptiness and hate. I look down at the carafe of blood and the glass in my hands and then back up to Shauna with a smile.

  “Oh, well in that case…” I launch them both at her as hard as I can. She makes her move to grab me but misses when the carafe smashes against her face, the blood covering her. I turn and run. My feet pound the floor and I hit the secret door in the corner too hard and nearly smash through it. I grip the handle and yank it open, waiting to feel her icy fingers at my back. However, there is nothing. Not even the sound of her coming after me. As I shove myself through the door and begin to pull it closed, I chance a look back.

  She stands covered in the rich, velvety red blood, transfixed by it. The sight turns my stomach. I feel both hungry and appalled. The blood streaks down her face in a series of zigzags and she licks her lips, sucking on her fingers and moaning loudly.

  I pull the door closed, noticing a lock near the handle and slide it across. It’s not much but it makes me feel better…now to get the hell out of here. It’s dark and dank, but I can see perfectly, my new eyesight adjusting to the darkness with ease.

  I’m in a tunnel of some sort. The ceiling is only just high enough that I can stand; the stone and dirt walls have been carved out by only bare hands and nails from the looks of the markings. I hurry down the tunnel, scanning either side for a way out, but see nothing—not even a closed door—until I reach the very end. I feel the slight decline of my footing as I go deeper underground, and gulp.

  I begin to panic, hoping that I was right and this is the way out after all. The earthen smell is getting stronger, the air quality worse, and it’s a good job I don’t actually need to breathe.

  I wonder if they have found Shauna yet. I can’t help feel a little sorry for her and worry what they will do, but that’s her problem. She chose the wrong team. I pause in my thoughts: is there a right team? Both sides are looking pretty damn evil right now. I shrug.

  I stand before the large door. It’s made of metal and looks old; however, the disturbance of the dirt on the floor leads me to believe that this is a frequent escape route. I try the rusty handle but it doesn’t budge, so I give it a gentle reminder of who’s boss by ramming it with my shoulder until it opens up.

  On the other side of the door is another tunnel. It’s much the same as the first one but the ceiling is higher now and I can smell the fresh air close-by. I sprint as fast as I can, my adrenaline from my fear of being followed and captured is running low.

  The walls are monotonous, the floor the same. There’s nothing to focus on, no thoughts to occupy my mind apart from escape. I’m deep down underground, but as I near the end of the tunnel I feel a slight incline underfoot. Time seems to have stopped still and I travel in silence. Even my thoughts have given me a respite from their constant ramblings.

  I see a door up ahead and make a final sprint towards it. It’s carved out of the stone wall surrounding it, and for a moment I worry that I won’t be able to get it open. When I try the handle it turns stiffly under my hand, but the door stays jammed in place, stubbornly refusing to move until I give it the same treatment as the previous door, and then surprisingly I collapse into the outside world.

  Sunlight hits my skin and I scream for a split second as I worry I’m going to burn up. I snort in relief as I realise that I’m fine, apart from being in a heap on the ground. I stand and look around as I dust myself off. The place looks painfully familiar and I gasp as I realise that I’m at college.

  I run a hand through my hair. Am I ready for this? What if I bump into someone I know? What if I can’t control myself around humans yet? I’ve had more than my fair share of blood in the last hour or so, but that doesn’t mean anything. Just the thought of blood is enough to make my head spin.

  However, I don’t have long to ponder the questions. I hear voices from behind me in the tunnels and decide to make a run for it.

  Thirty-Three

  Mia

  The smell hits me first. Hard.

  I sag and nearly fall over with the force of it. Leaning against the side of the closest building, I notice it’s the old gym. It’s at the far side of the college, set away from the new teaching areas. It’s not been used in years, and is waiting to be demolished. A new, better-equipped one has been built closer to the main college area.

  My nose twitches wildly whilst I raise my chin in the air, moving my head from side to side to get a better sense of which direction it comes from. I need whatever it is that’s causing that wonderful, enticing smell. My mouth waters profusely with every breath.

  Left. I take a step, all other thoughts lost to me. A breeze washes over my face. Wait—no, right.

  I follow the smell. My feet move beneath me without waiting for my request to do so. It’s like they know which way is the best way to go. Like they know what is good for me and what is not. The smell comes from the parking lot. My steps get brisker the closer I get to the source. I raise my head again every now and then to track the scent. It pulls me towards it, luring me, enticing me, my stomach groaning, my throat throbbing, until…

  There it is: the smell. I gasp. The cause of my hunger stands a few feet from me.

  Humans.

  What seems like hundreds of them. The corners of my mouth turn up as a slow smile spreads across my face. I lick my lips in anticipation. I can practically feel the blood rushing through them all, hot and fulfilling. Their auras hum and glow around them, mingling upon contact with each other. A handshake, a hug, the bump of a shoulder. Their colours collide in what looks to be a spontaneous and frenzied firework show, and I am in heaven as I stand and stare.

  My fangs unsheathe themselves and my stomach creases in expectancy. A thump, thump, thump echoes in my mind, the echo of each and every one of their heartbeats. I growl and then jump at my own noise. A thirst is resonating from deep within me, my hunger ever growing. I cannot control it. I am lost to it as it swallows me whole.

  May God help you all. My eyes fill with blood tears and shame. It is time…

  …I run fast, my feet stumbling over themselves in their eagerness to get to the first human. I grab the first person I come in contact with, a man—a boy, really. My nails drive into his throat, blood and gore spurting out and hitting my face. I snap his head to one side, feeling his neck bones crack beneath my hands before he can even scream out. My teeth rip into his throat. The flesh tears easily and comes away in my mouth. I spit it out and suck the blood from its core. The blood pumps up and out of the hole, a volcano of it erupting. My mouth does not quite cover the hole I have made. It splashes over me and coats everything in its thick, magical life source. I heave the body aside when I hear the screaming begin around me. I feel my eyes aglow as the fresh blood hits me hard and the excitement of the hunt begins.

  It’s carnage as I drink from as many as I can find, as many as I can catch, before the smell of so much spilled blood pulls me back to my nucleus point. The screams die down as the bodies pile up, and I finally sit amongst them all, exhausted. I pull each dried-out body to my lips as I attempt to suckle every last drop free from it. I toss each one away once it provides me with no more nourishment, listening to the shatter of their bones as they crash against the floor. The snapping and cracking of legs and arms reminds me of the sound wood makes when burning in a fire. I break another neck in my hands, prying the flesh open and lapping at the essence as it drips out, as the life left the terrified eyes of the man, the woman, the teenager, my humanity goes with it. And I
don’t care…

  …I shake my head to clear my reverie. My feet move forward and I round the bend fully, swallowing down my bile as I watch them all, unaware of the horror that they are about to encounter.

  This is it. Give in to it…it’s inevitable, my inner voice pants at me. Breathe, just breathe, Mia. I try and take a steadying breath before realising I don’t need to breathe anymore so the action won’t do anything to help me. A sob bubbles from my lips. I want it. I want all of it. I can almost see the blood beneath their skin.

  I pause in my animalistic need to feed when a familiar face catches my eye. I know her. I squint into the glaring sun, her aura yellow and bright.

  Rachael.

  My hand covers my mouth when I try to shout for her, stifling my cry of surprise. How can this be? Mr San said that she was dead. I shake with rage, my skin bristling as I realise that he lied to me. Does no one tell the truth anymore!

  The scenes that I have just been musing over play out in my mind’s eye. The nightmare thoughts that I have just imagined doing—wanted to do with all of my body. I wanted to kill those people. I saw it and the very thought made me hungry.

  The bodies.

  The blood.

  Oh god, there was so much blood. I tremble at the thought of what I was just contemplating doing, grateful that I saw Rachael when I did and stopped myself.

  I watch her as she passes by, oblivious to me. She looks deep in her own thoughts, pale, sick-looking almost, and so thin. Even thinner than the last time I had seen her. I wonder if Mr San has lied to me over my parents being dead. I can’t stop myself saying a small prayer to God that he has, not even knowing whether God listens to my kind, but anything is worth a try to save them.

  Rachael goes around a building, probably heading towards her car. I want to go to her and tell her everything that has happened, let her know that I am okay. I lick my lips at the thought of her—her blood, and cower away from her in shame.

  I can’t see her; I can’t trust myself around her, around anyone, not yet. Mr San didn’t lie to me about that. The hunger is getting too strong to deny my body. I need to move. I need to go somewhere that won’t smell as good as this place, somewhere that the blood won’t be as pure as this. Somewhere that Mr San and Mr Breckt won’t think to look for me.