Blood Magic

by L. J. Red

  “The fuck is it, Detective? You’ve got fucking awful timing.”

  There was silence on the end of the line and I had a shiver of premonition that chilled the lust in my veins and sent a lead weight through my stomach.

  “The woman you wanted me to track down, Michelle DuPont?”

  “No,” I said, not wanting to hear it.

  “I’m so sorry, Tiana, we found her body.”

  Chapter 29

  The cops had blocked off the road with police cars. The sirens were off but the walls of the buildings around were painted in blue and red from the lights. They had strung police tape across the mouth of the alleyway; the tape flapping slightly in the wind. A slow drizzle had started on the way here and I could feel raindrops trickling down my hair and under the collar of my jacket.

  I had a patchy memory of my phone falling from nerveless fingers to my desk. Valerian had managed to get a garbled explanation from me and bundled me into his car. He’d driven me straight here, flashes of the street outside, streetlamps, people moving around the city, oblivious to what had happened. I felt numb inside, as cold as the rain falling all around us. I couldn’t believe she was dead.

  The mouth of the alleyway was suddenly closer, though I had no memory of crossing the street toward it. One of the police officers recognized me and raised the tape. I ducked underneath it and stepped into the darkness. The void was all around me, heavier here, fresher, like a hole that had just been torn in the fabric of reality.

  The police were walking back and forth through the tatters of the half world as it tried to knit itself together around its wound. How could they not notice it? I walked closer, every step a struggle. I wanted to run, get away from this place. Not just from the pervasive sense of wrongness. I didn’t want to see Michelle’s body. I didn’t want it to be real.

  In the corner of the alleyway were two metal trash cans, bags of trash piled up around them, one of them ripped open by scavengers and the trash spilled out onto the dirty tarmac. At first, I didn’t see her, and then the shape on the ground resolved into a foot, the shoe kicked off and lying on its side just next to it. I followed her foot up the line of her leg, half covered by trash. Her elbow, her shoulder, dark hair covering her face.

  The world reeled to the side and I almost collapsed, hitting the wall, the rough brickwork scraping the arm of my jacket, catching at the tear that was already there.

  She was dead. It was real. I’d failed her. I pressed my eyes shut but that only made the sense of wrongness worse, the half world around me flexing as if it were calling for my help. The sense of wrongness hadn’t been as clear and sharp with Sevda or Oliver, perhaps because their deaths were old and the half world had found the time to fix itself. Whatever was killing these people, it had serious magic, magic powerful enough to tear a hole right through the worlds.

  “Shit, Tiana.” I dragged open my eyes and saw Detective Pierce in front of me, her face drawn in concern. For a moment I lost my grip on time. The alleyway, the darkness, the dirt, it was bringing it all back. I was lost in my memories, weak and drained of blood, staring up at her face. Hold on, just hold on.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” she said. “I shouldn’t have called you. Get the report tomorrow, okay? You don’t have to be here for this.”

  I nodded shakily. Normally I would fight her, insist on working the case, but this was too much, too close. She reached for my arm and I leaned on her heavily as I exited the alleyway. “I should have done something,” I said.

  “This isn’t on you. You couldn’t have known,” she said.

  I shook my head. “But I did know. I felt the void, I told you. It’s worse here. Whoever is doing this,” I said hoarsely, “they tore the half world right open to do it.” I could see she didn’t understand what I was talking about. “Whatever they are doing, it’s twisted, its wrong, you understand? Not just the deaths. There’s something evil in it.” Evil was right. The taint of darkness hung all over the alleyway. I stumbled another step away. I’d told Raven magic itself wasn’t evil, it was just power. Well all that power had been channelled into something sick, something perverted. I needed to get away from it.

  “How did you get here,” she asked. “Let me call you a cab.”

  “No,” I said, “it’s fine.” I forced myself to let go of her and scanned the darkness. There was Valerian, standing half cloaked in shadows beyond the police cars. He should be the last person I wanted to see with the memories coming thick and fast, and yet the sight of his tall form in the darkness was exactly what I needed.

  “It’s okay,” I said, not looking away from him. “I’ve got a ride.”

  “Detective Pierce,” someone called from behind her.

  She swore under her breath.

  “You go,” I said. “You’re needed. I’ll be all right.” I wasn’t sure how convincing I was.

  “Detective.” The shout came a second time from behind her and she finally turned and went back to the scene.

  I made my way toward Valerian, walking right up to him. Not stopping until my head hit his chest. He folded his arms around me in a complete embrace, shutting out the outside world. For the first time I felt my magic ease, mingling with his. The familiar magic of the dead smooth and comforting. I breathed in deep, inhaling his smoky scent. This was what I needed. Was it wrong to be taking comfort from Valerian when my dead friend was lying right there behind me? Some vampire was out there killing people, and here I was cozying up with one of their kind.

  I didn’t know how to explain it. I needed it. I needed him. He was the only thing that was keeping me from falling off the deep end and into the void. I tilted my head up to look at him. “Do you feel it?” I whispered. “Do you feel the hole in the world?”

  His eyes widened in shock. Shit, I sounded delirious. “Do you feel it?” I said, insistent. “Back there.” He turned to look at the alleyway, narrowing his eyes.

  “I feel.” He hesitated. “There is a darkness there,” he said after a moment.

  I closed my eyes. I wasn’t imagining it. I wasn’t crazy. I pressed my forehead to his firm chest. There really was something wrong.

  “Take me away from here,” I whispered to him.

  “Come,” he said, and drew me back to the car. Sinking into the plush leather interior, it felt like home.

  We sped through the city, not going back to central district but east. At first, I thought he was taking me to the vampire court but we kept going past it, out of Seattle toward Bellevue. We drove silently through the streets as the buildings around us turned to glass and chrome, towering over our heads. The city was awake, the night full of energy, but I could feel the wound in the half world lingering in my mind. I glanced in the rear-view mirror as if I could somehow see the torn edges hanging over the city, but of course there was nothing, just cars, a black sedan and behind us and a taxi, its lights momentarily blinding me. I closed my eyes and rested my head against the window.

  We took a ramp into an underground garage under a tall, shining apartment building. Valerian parked smoothly and turned off the engine, turning toward me. “Do you want to talk?” he asked. I shook my head. “All right.” He climbed out and I followed slowly enough that he had pulled my door open before I could.

  A flicker of emotion pierced my grief. “I’m not some princess who needs doors opened for her,” I snapped.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, taking a step back.

  “Good.” I glared at him, but my glare soon faded away. I just didn’t have the energy to sustain it. I closed the door behind me and followed him toward the elevator. I disinterestedly watched him tap in the code for the penthouse then turned, my eyes running sightlessly over the cars in the garage: shiny Porsches and BMWs. The beam of headlights flashed across the walls and over Valerian’s back. I caught sight of a black car driving in down the ramp. Then the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. “Come on,” Valerian said. “Let’s get you inside.” His broad palm was warm on my bac
k, the feeling so distracting it scattered my thoughts.

  Chapter 30

  I ended up curled on the couch in his embrace, looking out through the windows, the rain still falling and blurring the view. I’d forgotten how well we fit together. I felt his lips gently brush a kiss on the top of my head.

  This couldn’t last. I knew I would have to get up eventually. I would have to make some kind of decision about Valerian and what I was doing with him. I needed to contact Detective Pierce and get the information from the crime scene. From Michelle’s crime scene. My thoughts smeared like rain on glass. I couldn’t deal with any of it right now.

  “I can feel you thinking,” Val said, his voice a low rumble.

  “I’m cursed,” I said. “I lose everyone. I lost Violet, I lost you, I lost Michelle.”

  “That’s not true,” he said. “You didn’t lose me.”

  I turned my head up to look at him. “I never had you to begin with, did I?” And I pushed free from his embrace, standing up.

  He reached out, his hand encircling my wrist. “Tiana.”

  I tugged my hand away. “What?” I said. “Which is it? You can’t have both. Either you don’t care about me or you do. It’s not that fucking hard.”

  The anger burned away a little of the grief I was feeling. It didn’t make me feel better exactly but maybe a little more alive. I looked around myself. “God, what am I doing? I need to get out of here.”

  He stood and faced me. “Stay.”

  “What if I don’t fucking want to?” I snapped. “Are you going to make me?”

  Adrenaline fizzed down my veins and I felt alive again. I wanted to fight. I needed it, but he just stared back at me, implacably calm and completely fucking expressionless. I hated it, I hated that calm. I wanted to break it right off his face. I swung at him. He caught my fist in the air, his broad palm completely covering my hand. “You don’t want to do this.”

  “What do you know?” I said, voice shaky. “What do you know about what I want?”

  “You’ve just lost your friend.”

  “I fucking know,” I shouted. “You think I’ve fucking forgotten?”

  I launched myself at him again, striking with my other hand, desperate to reach him, to feel my blows connect, to feel something, anything. He shoved me away, hard enough that I stumbled. “I’m not doing this,” he said and turned away. Pure rage ran through me. I grabbed the nearest thing at hand, a lamp from the side table, and flung it at his head. He spun and caught it, his eyes flashing. “Don’t push me, Tiana.”

  “Fuck you,” I said, finally remembering my knife. I’d stuck it into my jeans on autopilot before leaving the apartment and when I reached down there it was. I pulled it out, dropping my weight low.

  Valerian growled. “You’re playing with fire.”

  “That’s the only way I play,” I said, just as low, and I sprung toward him. This time my anger and grief channeled deep and low, ready to hurt.

  My first strike was a feint, too low, then I pivoted, twisted, and drove my knife up to his ribs. His hands clenched around my grip at the last moment. I bore up against him but even all my strength was barely enough to move him an inch.

  “Stop now,” he said, but his eyes were glittering, waking to the violence between us. He was enjoying this. This was new. We’d never fought, not like this. This wasn’t tainted by past memories. I was right here. Present. In the moment.

  I snarled wordlessly and twisted again, falling back, then bringing my knee up sharp and hard. He grunted, his expression spasming in pain as my knee connected between his legs. I grinned, pulling my knife out of his grip and swinging higher, for his throat.

  His thick forearm blocked me, but before I could try again he was on me, spinning me round, throwing me down on the couch. I bounced off the cushions and vaulted toward the back but he grabbed my legs, dragged me down, kicking.

  The side of his palm, flat and hard, struck my wrist and the knife went flying. “No,” I shouted, kicking out and catching him on the jaw. He grabbed me by the waist and spun me down onto the ground. I expected to land hard but he cushioned my fall. The bastard was playing with me, I realized as we rolled, turning until I was underneath and he was on top. “Fight me, damn you,” I said, slapping at the cage of his arms.

  “No,” he said, staring down at me. His body was pressed close to mine, his arms on either side.

  I was surrounded by him, and suddenly I was very aware of the heat rising from his body. The scent of him, sweat and musk. My breath was coming fast, exertion speeding my heartbeat and the pull in my muscles settling into a low ache. I felt alive, truly alive. This was what I needed.

  He pushed himself off me, pulling back up onto the couch. I lay there for a moment, panting against the floor. Was I insane? Was I really doing this? I thought of the way his body felt above me. The way it made me feel. The memory of the alleyway lingered on the edges of my thoughts. The fight had driven it out, just for a moment. I needed that. Needed something to ground me in my body and help me escape my twisting, curling thoughts.

  And if he wouldn’t fight me…

  I pushed myself up and stared at him, sprawled out on the couch. The fight had brought blood to his cheeks, to his lips, his dark blond hair falling in a curl over his forehead.

  “I don’t want to think about the crime scene,” I said. “I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

  “What do you want me to do about it?” he asked, looking up at me with dark eyes.

  “Distract me,” I said, deep with meaning. And I moved slowly, crawling across the ground and up onto his lap.

  He stared into my eyes. From this position, I was looking down at him. “Are you sure? Seems unhealthy.”

  “I need to feel something, you understand?” I couldn’t explain it. The way my limbs were filling with a manic kind of energy. Anything to keep the grayness of grief from weighing me down. It was wild and unstoppable, a desperate need to prove that I was alive, that I wasn’t dead as well. I needed his touch to erase the cloying grief that lay over me.

  Valerian’s eyes were mirrors, reflecting my own expression back at me from the depths of dark blue. “Why do you care whether or not it’s right? Why do you care whether or not it’s healthy?” I rolled my hips against him and was viciously gratified to feel him harden between my legs. “You can’t tell me you don’t want me.”

  He growled and his hands were suddenly clamped on my waist. “Don’t toy with me, Tiana.”

  “I’m not,” I said. “You want this. I want this. So, what’s the problem?”

  “I thought you hated me,” he said, staring up at me with those deep blue eyes.

  I bent down over him, my hair falling about my face, my lips inches from his. “I do,” I whispered, and I was so full of grief and adrenaline I couldn’t have told you if I was lying or telling the truth. I didn’t give him a chance to reply. I just leaned down and pressed my lips to his.

  Chapter 31

  I poured myself into the kiss as if I could find all my answers there. For a handful of seconds he was still underneath me, like a statue carved from marble, and then he came alive all at once under my hands. Surging up, his hands sliding up my back and bunching my shirt around my bra. His fingertips gliding over my skin, making me shudder into the kiss.

  He pulled me close to him so I could feel every inch of his hard length against my core, heat pooling between my legs. I moaned into his mouth and arched so the entire front of my body was pressed against his. He broke the kiss, swore under his breath, and leaned back to catch my eyes.

  My lips felt bruised, my eyes wild with lust. This was exactly what I needed, a chance to let go of all the thoughts running through my mind. Wipe them clean with pure sensation. “Tiana,” he growled, his hands tightening on my body. “It’s been so long.”

  His tongue flicked out between his fangs to lick his lips and for the first time I felt barely a shiver of fear at the sight of them. I was too lost to sensation to even
care. I leaned forward and captured his mouth again but this time he took control of the kiss in seconds, no longer exploring but violent. A desperate clash of tongues and lips and teeth that left me gasping, more turned on than I had been in years. I had forgotten what it was like between us.

  He curled his hands around my waist, then surged up and around so that I spun through the air and down onto the couch cushions, his entire body arching over me. So fucking massive. I was overwhelmed by him all over again. His body a cage around me, trapping me in his embrace.

  I ran my hands up his body, pulling at his shirt, twisting it up and over his head. The chain around his neck tangled, then hung free. A golden filament, and at the end a three-pointed valerian leaf. I had bought that for him. I’d found it in the same tiny boutique where I had bought my sister her violet necklace. “You’re still wearing it,” I whispered.

  He looked down, then back up at me, his deep blue eyes as fathomless as the ocean. Why was he wearing it? It didn’t make any sense. If he didn’t really care, if this was just about sex to him, then why on earth was he still wearing a necklace that I had given him four years ago?

  He kissed my questions away, kissed my thoughts away, and I forced myself to let it go. I didn’t want to think, didn’t want to agonize over the questions in my mind. I just wanted to give in to the sensations rushing through my body.

  His hard lips on mine were sinful, intoxicating, heat rising between us. I needed more, more touch, more skin. I arched up into him, my hands seeking the waistband of his pants. He turned his head laid kisses at the corner of my mouth, along my jaw. His kisses overwhelmed my barriers and built the curling hum of desire within my bones to new heights. I squirmed underneath him, dizzy with lust, raw with needed. The press of his erection against the juncture of my legs was too much of a tease. I was slick with desire. I needed him inside me.