by R. L. Perez
“Hot,” I said flatly.
Juan stared at me, obviously waiting for more. When I said nothing, he burst into laughter. “Very amusing, Miss Gerrick.”
I refrained from rolling my eyes.
Izzy nudged me with her elbow. “Making friends?”
“Hardly. What are we standing around here for?”
“Waiting for the Count’s mages to come work with us. No one else is allowed in here in case we injure someone.”
“Who are these ‘mages’?” I asked. In my time, the term wasn’t used, but I’d often read stories of mages. The Great Mage War had taken place barely a decade prior to this time.
“Fancy word for ‘scholarly casters.’ They train and abstain from marriage like monks, pledging their life to serving royalty in honor of guiding those with magic.”
“Do you have mages where you’re from?” I asked curiously. I knew quite a bit about American and Spanish magical history due to my heritage, but I didn’t know much about other countries.
Izzy shook her head. “No, my country eliminated them about the time of the Great Mage War. Similar to yours, I’d wager.”
The large oak doors burst open, and four bald men in sweeping purple robes entered, their postures stiff and regal and their heads held high. One of them approached me and bowed so low I thought he’d fall over. When he straightened, he clasped his hands in front of him.
“Miss Gerrick,” he said softly in accented English. “It is a pleasure to meet the newest guest of the Castillo de Coca. Please follow me to complete your preliminary examinations.”
My stomach did a backflip, but I nodded and limped toward him. He frowned and eyed my injured leg. “Are you well, my lady?”
My lady. Was I technically his superior? I shifted my weight uncomfortably. “I’m fine.”
“May I heal that for you?”
I sighed and nodded. “Yeah. Sure.” As much as I wanted to prove I was capable of letting it heal on my own, it would be nice to be able to walk freely in this monstrosity of a castle without feeling like I might fall over at any minute.
“Please remain still,” the man said, kneeling in front of me. “This will only take a moment.”
He moved his hands in the air directly in front of my injured leg, performing grand sweeping motions that tickled my nose with magic. His voice was low as he murmured words I couldn’t understand—it sounded a bit like Latin to me. His hands glowed blue, and my leg stiffened as pain shot up my body. I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes.
Then the pain was gone, and with it my injury. I exhaled and stretched my leg. I felt nothing at all.
A relieved smile spread across my face. The man stood and bowed to me.
“Thank you, Mr. . . .?”
“Ignacio Cortes.”
“Mr. Cortes.” I nodded to him.
He stretched his hand toward me. “Come this way, please.”
I followed him out of the ballroom, casting a glance over my shoulder at the others. Izzy, Wes, and Elias crowded around one mage while the rest of the guests spoke with the other two mages. I vaguely wondered how they were grouped before the ballroom disappeared from view.
“How long have you worked for the Count?” I asked Ignacio.
“Many years,” Ignacio said in a hushed voice as if we were in some sort of sacred chapel. “I am one of the few mages left in his employ after the Great War.”
We strode down an empty hallway and turned into the library where I’d spoken with the Count the night before. Ignacio scooted a small table forward and placed it between the two armchairs. Then, he gestured that I sit. I hefted up my skirts and awkwardly backed into the seat until I flopped backward onto the cushion with an “oof.”
A tiny smile pinched the corners of Ignacio’s mouth, but he said nothing as he sat across from me. “Tell me of your magical ailment, Miss Gerrick.”
I cleared my throat, trying to remember the details I’d told the Count the night before. “I’m an Elemental. My powers were working fine until I turned eleven. Then they faded and stopped working altogether. I can still cast spells and summon my blue magic, but nothing else. I’ve tried taking potions and writing my own spells to summon my magic back, but nothing’s worked.”
Ignacio nodded, his gaze directed to the floor as he contemplated this. “And when your powers were intact, you were able to conjure each of the elements without difficulty?”
I shifted in my chair. “Yes.”
“Did you have an affinity for one over the others?”
“Fire,” I blurted without thinking. It had been the first thing that popped into my head. Dad had told me he’d had the same affinity, and his father had as well.
Ignacio’s eyebrows lifted. “I see. Did you ever find this fire uncontrollable? Did it ever take over your body?”
I shook my head. “No, I always had control over it. But my father can set his entire body on fire without feeling anything. Maybe it’s genetic.” I shrugged, avoiding Ignacio’s gaze.
Ignacio nodded thoughtfully. “Interesting. Miss Gerrick, would you mind if I cast a few spells upon you? They are not harmful and will not alter you in any way.”
Discomfort wriggled in my stomach. “Um, sure.”
“May I have your dominant hand?”
I stretched out my right hand, and he gripped it in his. His palms were calloused, but his long, thin fingers were soft. He flipped my hand over and ran a finger down several lines in my palm. I suppressed a shiver at the feeling of having this stranger touch me so gently.
Ignacio clasped my hand in both of his and muttered another spell in Latin. A blue glow encompassed our clasped hands, and a sudden tightness gripped my chest. I tried sucking in a breath, but no air came. Spots danced in my vision. My lungs struggled for air.
Finally, the pressure in my chest eased and I sucked in several gulps of air. “What was that?” I choked.
Ignacio released my hands, his brows knitting together. “I tried accessing your affinity, but I was blocked by another source.”
I stilled. “Another . . . magical source?”
“I cannot tell. It is most likely the cause, although I have encountered a few individuals whose physical ailments blocked me from accessing their affinity.”
Again, I thought of Angel and her illness. Would her condition prevent a spell like that from getting through?
“Has this happened to anyone else?” I asked.
Ignacio nodded. “It is quite common for impaired casters to be blocked somehow. That was just the first test. For the next one, would you mind reciting the cloaking enchantment for me? If you don’t know it—”
“I know it.” I leaned forward and closed my eyes.
“Magic above, I summon thee,
To obscure me from this enemy.”
As my hands started to glow blue, Ignacio waved his fingers in the air in front of me, conjuring purple sparks that stung my nose. The sparks flew closer to me, and I held my breath, afraid I might accidentally inhale them.
Then, the sparks flew back toward Ignacio’s hand, surrounding his fingers until they disappeared.
I watched with wide eyes, waiting for some kind of explanation. When it didn’t come, I asked, “What was that?”
“I was trying to discern whether you have an affinity or not. In rare cases, a person’s aura blocks me from looking closer because there is nothing to see. Sometimes traumatic events cause a person’s affinity to vanish completely.”
A lump formed in my throat. “And . . . did you find something there?” This is it. This is where he tells me I’m broken beyond repair. I’m defective.
“Yes.”
My head reared back, my heart thundering in my chest. “What? Really?”
“Yes, there is certainly something there. I presume it is your elemental abilities, but I cannot yet determine what is blocking them.”
I took several deep breaths. My eyes felt hot, and I rubbed my nose. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Relief blos
somed through me. Thank Lilith. I wasn’t completely broken after all.
Ignacio rose to his feet. “Come.”
Blinking, I stood. “Is that it?”
“For now. I have determined you are not a danger to the rest of us. But you do have powers that are inaccessible, which means we should be able to help you.”
Together we strode out of the library and back down the hall. “Have you ever encountered someone who you couldn’t help?”
Ignacio slowed his steps and glanced at me. “Once.”
“What happened to them?”
“They died.”
My heart lurched in my throat. I waited for more information, but Ignacio’s tight-lipped grimace told me he wouldn’t share anything else.
Instead, I tried to focus on my relief. That won’t be me. He says there’s something there, waiting to be accessed. I’m not doomed.
Ignacio suddenly gripped my elbow, stopping me in my tracks. A second later, a foul odor stung my nose.
I stiffened and met Ignacio’s wide eyes.
“Demons,” he whispered. “They’re here.”
My heart racing, I gritted my teeth. “I need weapons.”
Ignacio’s mouth opened and closed, his face pale.
I gripped his arm tightly. “Ignacio! Where are your weapons?”
“I . . . uh . . . the armory. Downstairs. Past the kitchen.”
I gathered my skirts and ran, grateful Ignacio had healed my leg earlier. I took several wrong turns and swore loudly. The stench of demons grew stronger. Shouts and crashes echoed around the castle. I thought of the other casters here and the ailments that kept them from battling properly.
They needed my help.
I pushed faster, my chest aching from the damned corset restricting my air flow.
At long last, I descended the staircase and found an armory stocked with shields, armor, swords, daggers, pistols, rifles, and stakes. There were some more menacing weapons with spikes and chains that I skirted away from. Instead, I snatched a small dagger and a stake and slid them inside my bodice, allowing them to take up the room my flat chest provided.
I hurried back out and came face-to-face with a demon.
10
Leo
I STOOD FROZEN IN THE doorway of the armory, stunned, as I watched the girl with straw-colored hair sift through weapons.
How had I not smelled her? Was she mortal?
I’d been quite certain the area was empty. Otherwise I wouldn’t have risked going to the armory.
Jorge, Miguel, Eduardo, and I had split up to cause more chaos. Jorge and Miguel had been closest to the staircase, so I left to grab weapons while my men searched for my brother.
If he was here.
It was probably better that I gather supplies. The Count’s men would be looking for me—the coven leader. I could provide a distraction from the important task at hand.
But I hadn’t expected to find a young woman in a mahogany gown reaching stiffly for weapons she looked far too small to handle.
The girl rose and whirled to face me, then took a startled step backward. Her face drained of color, and I sensed her heartbeat quicken. The way the blood pulsed in her veins called to me, but I squashed it down. I watched her scrutinize me as I had her just moments ago. Her eyes raked up and down, taking in my leather attire and boots, my curly hair tied at the nape of my neck, and my silver-rimmed eyes. The eyes were always a shock upon first glance. Though I’d been born with dark eyes, my vampiric and shapeshifter forms added a ring of silver around my eyes that glowed like moonlight.
I bowed deeply to the woman, smirking when I straightened. “Forgive me, my lady. I did not expect to see someone as elegant as you down here.”
To my surprise, the girl fixed a fearsome scowl at me and brandished her dagger. I almost laughed. She was so petite that wielding such a weapon looked utterly ridiculous.
I raised my hands in mock surrender. “Please, my lady. Have mercy.”
The girl’s nostrils flared, and she lunged for me. Surprised, I jumped backward with a yelp, but she was quicker than I’d thought. Her blade sliced into my arm, and fire burned from the cut.
Little viper.
I laughed to mask my shock, pressing a hand to my wound. Blood glistened on my fingers. “Impressive.” I looked at her, assessing the fire and determination blazing in her eyes. Like she had something to prove.
I’d taunted her, and she hadn’t liked it. Perhaps that could work in my favor.
“You’re a fiery little thing, aren’t you?” I asked.
The girl attacked again, but this time I was ready for her. She aimed a kick at my chest, but I caught her foot in my hands and twisted until she collapsed to the floor in a heap of satin skirts.
Chuckling again, I stepped over her toward the weapons. Then a sharp pain exploded in my shoulder. Hissing, I stiffened and glanced back at her. She’d flung her dagger into my shoulder.
“My, my,” I said through clenched teeth, groping blindly in search of the dagger. “You are persistent.”
The girl jumped to her feet and tackled me. Together, we collapsed on the floor. She landed a punch squarely in my face with a crack. Blood poured from my nose. I dodged her next blow and smashed my forehead against hers.
Dazed, she reared back, her eyes wild and incoherent. Her brows knitted together, and her expression crumpled in pain. I almost felt bad for her.
I gathered the weapons that had fallen to the floor, taking advantage of her injury. I strode toward the doorway, but then the girl uttered a spell.
“Magic within me, gather near,
Trap this man and keep him here.”
Her hands glowed blue, and my eyes widened. She’s a witch. How had I not smelled her magic?
I hurried to leave, but some invisible force blocked me. Though I strained and struggled, I couldn’t move past the doorway. A faint blue glow hovered in front of me.
I sighed. How had I managed to fail at this one, simple task?
Slowly, I turned to face the girl, whose eyes were burning with hatred. I cocked my head at her. Her spell had been in English. Adopting her language, I asked, “Just how many languages do you know, my lady?”
The girl blinked at me, shock etched into her face. “I could ask you the same thing. My lord.”
I laughed. “I’m no lord. I am Leonardo Serrano, the leader of this coven.” And I’d make sure she never forgot it.
“That’s nice,” she said in a monotone. “Now give those back.” She pointed to the weapons in my arms.
I grimaced, feigning sympathy. “Unfortunately, mi amor, I must leave with these. You see, the fate of my coven depends on it.” It’s not entirely untrue. We do have great need of these weapons.
The girl dragged another dagger from off the wall and brandished it at me.
I exhaled in exasperation. “Must we do this again? I’ve already bested you.”
“Hardly,” the girl growled.
She burst forward, kicking my legs out from under me. I collapsed in a clash of metal as the weapons fell from my arms.
This has gone on long enough, I thought. My dark magic swirled around me, taking over and shifting me to my bat form. I flapped blindly around the room, using my other senses to guide me. With another swell of magic, I reappeared in vampire form and barreled into the girl.
She fell to the floor again with an “oof,” crashing into a suit of armor.
I vanished again in a puff of black smoke, changing back to my bat form. I sensed her bewilderment as she tried to find me, but I flew away from her and toward the doorway.
“You’re a shapeshifter,” she spat, rising to her feet. I detected her magic crackling through the air. She’s casting another spell!
The girl’s voice vibrated against my body as she spoke.
“Vile demon of unholy crimes,
I banish you—”
I shifted back to my vampire form and slammed into her. She stumbled backward into the wall with a groan.
How dare she? I thought, seething. She tries to banish me? She thinks she can just defeat me in the blink of an eye? Fury roared within me, and I felt her pulse quicken from my nearness. I pressed an arm into her collarbone, pinning her into place.
“See, that’s where you’re wrong, my lady,” I whispered in her ear. “I’ve committed no unholy crime. If you’re searching for a lawbreaker, why don’t you ask your precious Count what crimes he has committed against my coven?”
The girl thrashed against my grip. I knew she would only keep fighting me. Despite how she infuriated me, I didn’t want to kill her. Though I was certainly a monster, there were some lines I didn’t want to cross.
I had to escape. Even though it broke the rules of my coven, I had no choice if I wanted to let her live. So, I leaned in and sank my teeth into her throat.
Blood flooded in my mouth, sweet and delicious. I hadn’t expected to feed today, and my body thrummed with excitement from the prospect. The tangy fluid gushed down my throat as I swallowed it like nectar. The girl’s body fell slack in my arms as she responded to the numbness of my venom.
While I drank, something odd settled in my mouth. A sharp, bitter taste that puzzled me. I’d never tasted anything like it before.
This girl was no ordinary witch. I’d tasted witch blood before, and this was much more unusual.
I drew away before the bloodlust overcame me, and the girl stiffened from the jolt of my withdrawal. Blood dripped down my chin and onto her dress. A trickle of crimson liquid oozed down her neck.
“That’s . . . interesting,” I whispered, licking my lips.
The girl merely blinked at me, her eyes foggy.
“What are you?” I murmured, drawing closer to her. Her tawny eyes stared drunkenly at me with the same wonder I felt.
“What . . . are you?” she asked weakly. Her eyes flicked over my face unabashed. Then, she shook her head as if trying to regain clarity, but I knew it would be no use for her. She would need days to recover from the blood loss. It was a shame to see her so dizzy and incoherent. She’d been a fierce opponent.
But she’d occupied my time long enough. I sensed a crackle of dark magic in the air—a signal from Miguel.