“And you wanted to be a strong, immortal vampire instead?”
“I suppose,” he says, spreading his hands. “I’m not sure exactly what I expected. I definitely thought it would be more glamorous. It might have been, I guess, if the vampire in the city I was living in had accepted my request it could have been everything I imagined.”
“They turned you down?” I take another sip.
“They laughed me out of the clanhouse. Said they didn’t need a weak, pathetic human in their clan.”
I snort. “Assholes.”
“Yeah, we’re something,” he sighs, slipping his arm through mine. His skin doesn’t put off the same heat a human’s would. He’s useless for staying warm out here.
“How’d you meet Javier then?”
“I got desperate and started contacting every clan within three hundred miles. Javier invited me here for an interview,” Patrick laughs. “It was so strange, but he was dead serious. He made me meet everyone, asked all sorts of intrusive questions, then offered me the bite on the spot. Said it was now or never and I didn’t even hesitate.”
“Do you regret it?” I ask, something uncomfortable twisting in my chest as I remember his face twisted in hunger and spit dripping from his chin as he latched onto my arm in that basement. And the night before last when his hunger almost overtook him again.
He twists so his forehead is resting on my shoulder and wraps his hand around my arm. “This week I have. I never thought it would turn me into a murderer.”
“You’re not a murderer,” I say almost harshly. “You’re not.”
He shakes his head, his breath hitching. “You don’t know what it’s like to kill someone. You can’t understand.”
I laugh, a humorless sound, and my eyes sting. I squeeze them shut and take another drink.
“Yes, I do.”
He lifts his head. “What are you talking about?”
“The first person I killed was a vampire,” I whisper as I grab the neck of my shirt and pull it to the side to show him the faint scars I could never get to disappear entirely. “Got obsessed and tried to kill me.”
Patrick traces the scar with a cold fingertip and looks at me with tired eyes. “I’m surprised you don’t hate us.”
“I almost did,” I say with a smile. “I was terrified when I started here. Only took the job because I was desperate as hell.”
“You said the first person you killed?” He asks quietly. “Have there been more?”
I pull my arm away and stand, I’ve already said too much. Damn tequila.
“What happened to your neck?” I ask, pointing to the bruise on the side closest to me. His hand goes to it and shrugs, looking almost embarrassed.
“I left the clan, coming back wasn’t as simple as just walking back in the house.”
“Javier didn’t hurt you, did he?” I demand, tugging at his hand to get a better look.”
“No,” he says, taking my wrists in his hands to keep me from pawing at his neck. “It wasn’t like that.”
“What was it like then?” I ask, sitting back and taking another drink.
“When a vampire joins a clan, there’s a sharing of blood,” he says, a blush creeping up his neck. I didn’t even know vampires could blush. “Javier and I had to do that again, in the presence of the clan.”
I stare at him, brows raised. “You people have the weirdest fucking rules.”
“Tell me about it,” he says with a harsh laugh.
We go quiet and the silence makes my skin itch. Sitting and thinking is the last thing I need.
“Let’s walk more.”
He opens his mouth to argue, then snaps it shut and shakes his head.
“I’ll race you to the center.”
I grin, wide and manic, then take off at an unsteady sprint.
The room is still spinning from the tequila, and I’m starting to feel like I might barf. Fucking tequila. I stumble towards the dresser, fumbling through the vials Emilio lined up on top of it.
“Where are you?” I ask in a singsong voice. Don’t need the blood replenishing potion, don’t need the iron supplement potion, don’t need the sweet dreams potion.
“There it is!” I exclaim as I find the little purple vial that contains the sobering potion I keep for emergencies. I flick the cork out and down it before I can hesitate.
I gag immediately and have to pinch my nose to swallow it back down. Disgusting doesn’t cover it. It’s bitter and salty and sour all at the same time. The potion rushes through me, chasing the alcohol out of my bloodstream and back into my stomach, which twists and cramps.
I run for the bathroom and fling the toilet lid open, vomiting three times before I can catch a breath. I’m pretty sure some came out of my nose.
“So gross,” I groan. My stomach cramps again and I vomit up the remaining tequila. With the haze of the alcohol gone I just feel tired, and stupid.
I get a hand on the sink and pull myself up on shaky legs. Panting, and still nauseous, I brace myself and wait to see if I’m going to vomit again. My stomach cramps once more, but I don’t vomit. I turn the water on and rinse my mouth out before grabbing my toothbrush.
It takes a couple of minutes of scrubbing to get the taste out of my mouth. I spit in the sink and make the mistake of looking in the mirror. I’m going to need a shit ton of makeup to make myself look presentable. First, though, I have to take a shower.
The hot water soothes my now sore muscles and eases the last of the cramping in my stomach. I want to linger, but it’s already six-thirty, and the funeral is at eight am. I really can’t be late, plus I don’t think Lydia would wait for me and I don’t have a car anymore.
I sigh and lean my head against the shower wall. Tequila had helped me forget that little piece of information, and I could have done without remembering it. I slap the water off and grab the towel I put on the counter.
Fifteen minutes later I have my one nice dress laid out. It’s a navy blue, a-line dress that belonged to my mom. I smooth out a wrinkle and stare at it. I haven’t ever worn it, but I couldn’t ever bear to get rid of it. I don’t have many of her things left, just an old cauldron I can’t even use anymore, and this. I shake off the memories and pull the dress on. It fits like a glove.
I blow dry my hair and twist it up into a bun. Then I slather on the concealer and foundation followed by a little blush to put some color on my cheeks so I don’t look like a vampire. Finally, I put on mascara to make myself look awake. It’s the closest I can get to reputable looking.
Standing there, looking in the mirror, all I can see is my mother. She looked almost exactly like this every time she went to deal with coven business. The welts striping my arms ruin the image though. The salves haven’t been helping at all. I touch one, it’s still tender and I can feel the tingle of magic still running through it. I shove down the worry over what exactly I’ve done to myself and pull on a long sleeve cardigan to hide them.
My phone buzzes. Lydia is asking if I’m ready, or if she’s going to have to come drag me out of bed. I text back that I’m headed down, then grab my purse, stuffed full of potions because you can never be too careful, and a light jacket.
Lydia, who is waiting at the bottom of the stairs, looks perfect, of course. She’s wearing a tailored black dress with a string of pearls, her hair in a perfect chignon. The dress softens her broad shoulders, and her makeup makes her look both younger, and more somber than usual.
“I’m glad you had something decent to wear, I almost had Emilio get you something, just in case.”
“Oh ye of little faith,” I say, adjusting my skirt as I come to a stop in front of her. I feel awkward in a dress.
Lydia crosses her arms like she’s preparing for a fight. “Alright, just so you know, the coven is going to be there, and they aren’t happy you’re attending. Novak’s girlfriend, however, is human and insisted that you be permitted to attend. She’s been insisting on meeting the witch her boyfriend died to protect.”
“Just tell her he was your hero and don’t crack any jokes. You’ll be fine.”
“Sure,” I say.
Lydia looks unconvinced but heads to the garage regardless. She’s driving one of Javier’s sleek black cars today. The leather squeaks as I try to find a comfortable position.
We’re almost to the cemetery when Lydia interrupts the silence.
“I got an email from Agent Hawking this morning.”
“They found something?” I demand, sitting up straighter.
“Perhaps,” Lydia shrugs. “It’s a very tentative lead, but they think they have Martinez on a security camera at a gas station about fifty miles from here.”
I clench my fingers around the strap of my purse. I want to find him so bad I can taste it. Suddenly, Reilly extorting me into helping doesn’t seem so bad.
“That’s something.”
Lydia nods. “It certainly is.”
She turns down the narrow lane that leads through the cemetery. The parking lot is already full of cars with a stream of people walking toward the canopy tent set up over the gravesite.
Lydia parks at the back of the parking lot. I get out and smooth my dress down. I’m not sure how my mother ever sat in it without wrinkling it.
I see a few familiar faces as I walk up. Some I’ve simply seen around town, others are in pressed blue uniforms. A narrow black strip with the words nemo me impune lacessit stretches across their badges. They did the same at Brunson’s funeral, from what I saw in the pictures.
“It means ’No one harms me with impunity’,” Lydia says, seeing my stare.
“That’s a good motto,” I say as we near the canopy. There aren’t many seats left open. Novak’s family has filled the front row, the police the second and third, and the coven most of the rest. However, there is one face missing that I expected to see.
“Wasn’t Maybelle supposed to be here?” I whisper as we take a seat in the back corner. The chairs are rickety plastic here in the back and it squeaks as I sit down.
Lydia glances around discretely, brows pinching together. “She was.”
A hush settles over the gathering. The minister steps up to a podium behind the casket and clears his throat.
“We are here today to honor a fallen hero, a dear friend, and a distinguished member of the Ignatius Coven and Pecan Grove Police Department, Alexander Novak. He was not only a police officer, nor was he only a witch, nor was he only a son. Alexander was a part of this community, and a good man who stood ready to defend this town against the greatest threat of our time.”
I stare at my hands, clenched tightly together. Novak threatened me. He tampered with evidence at the request of the coven leader. But, in the end, he came down into a basement to try and stop his partner, and he died trying to do the right thing.
“We are here today to lay this man to rest surrounded by the community that he cared so much for,” the minister continues. “Surrounded by the family that loved him, and his fiancee, whose future with him has been cut short. We are all here seeking comfort, which we will find in each other. Each of us mourns the loss of Alexander, and we will continue to mourn. I encourage you to lean on one other.”
His fiancee is sobbing audibly now. His mother and father are staring straight ahead, eyes locked on the casket. I shouldn’t be allowed here. I shouldn’t be sitting at the funeral of a man I killed watching the people that cared about him grieve. It wasn’t my fault really, that he died, but I still sucked him dry and felt his soul slip from his body.
I dig my nails into my palm just to keep myself in my seat. The minister drones on. Lydia nudges me and I realize I’ve been tapping my foot. I still and take a deep breath.
Three officers line up to the left, shotguns held at their sides. A fourth officer stands apart from them. He clicks his heels together, standing at attention.
“Firing squad. Attention!” His voice echoes across the space.
The other officers snap to attention as well.
“Ready. Aim. Fire.”
The three shots crack through the air simultaneously. I flinch, digging my nails into my palm even deeper.
“Ready. Aim. Fire.”
The shots crack again. I force myself to look up.
“Ready. Aim. Fire.”
The final shot sounds, the report of gunfire echoing into the distance.
“Present arms.”
The officer lifts a trumpet and begins playing taps. As the somber tune carries over the gathering Novak’s mother finally breaks down, tears streaming down her face.
The minister says a few more words, but I don’t hear them. Lydia’s hand on my arm startles me and I realize they are finally lowering the casket. She presses the keys to the car into my hand and leans in to whisper in my ear.
“I’ll get a ride back to the clanhouse from someone else.”
I grip the keys tightly and nod. I’m the first person out of my seat and it’s all I can do to keep from sprinting to the car. I don’t see Brunson and Hawking until I’m rushing past them. Zachary’s eyes follow me, that same tired look on his face from the last time we spoke. This must be even harder for him than it is for me, yet I’m still the one running away.
13
I drive exactly the speed limit on the way into town, even though I want to rush. I’m almost desperate to see Maybelle at this point. There are too many unanswered questions, and if I can’t do something productive I think I might go crazy. I could also use some good news about rebuilding the apothecary.
The cafe is almost empty. It’s unheard of and it makes my heart twist in my chest. Even the lights seem dimmer today.
I adjust my dress and wish I had thought to bring a change of clothes. I hadn’t really planned for after the funeral though.
“Olivia,” a familiar voice says from behind me.
I turn around and click my jaw shut after a moment. I’ve never seen Gerard out of the warehouse before. He looks even paler in the light, and he doesn’t seem to like it based on the angry squint twisting his features.
“Gerard?” I ask dumbly.
He rolls his eyes and huffs. “You aren’t normally this stupid. But yes.”
I glare at him. “I’ve never seen you outside the warehouse. It’s weird. What do you want?”
“Maybelle has been taken,” he says, baring his teeth. “Find her.”
I swallow. My mind is running in a million directions. Does he know? Who has taken Maybelle? I call my hands into fists. I don’t know if I could stand it if someone else died.
“Who took her?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he says shaking his head. “You find her, and you get her back.”
I pull my phone out of my purse. “Is this related to the bombing? Do you know who did it?”
He closes the distance between us in four quick steps, snatching my phone from my hand. I didn’t realize he was capable of moving that fast.
“You call no one, and tell no one,” he bites out. “If she’s still alive, she’ll not thank you for ruining her life by involving JHAPI.”
“How do you know any of this? And why do you care?” I ask, taken aback by his vehemence.
“Because,” he hisses, “she’s my sister.”
“Your sister?” I demand, leaning toward and speaking in a low voice. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“We are private people,” Gerard says, crossing his arms. “You can demand all the answers you want after you find her.”
“Why do you think she has been taken?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.
He thrusts a crumpled note in my face. I snatch it and smooth it out to read it.
What was stolen must be returned. Your sister for the book. You have forty-eight hours.
I look back up at Gerard, my brow furrowed. “What was stolen? A book?”
“It
doesn’t matter,” he says thrusting a finger at me. “We sold it years ago, we can’t get it back. They will kill her if we don’t find her first.”
“This is insane,” I snap. Of course I’m going to try to Find her, but none of this makes sense. “When did you get this note?”
“Midnight the day of the explosion.”
“Shit, so we’re already down, what, twenty-four hours?”
He nods.
“You should have asked for help sooner,” I say in a barely controlled tone of voice.
“I couldn’t get to you without giving everything away. You have been surrounded by the vampires almost constantly since the bombing,” he hisses at me. “It would have done neither of us any good.”
I brush a stray piece of hair out of my face roughly. “This is insanity.”
“It’s only a matter of time before they come for you as well. I’m surprised they haven’t made the connection already,” he says, shaking his head.
“What connection? I apparently don’t know anything about Maybelle,” I say waving the note at him.
“That’s for her to tell you,” he says. He’s already backing away.
“Why are you always so damn vague?” I snap. “Just give me a straight answer.”
“I know what you are, and what you can do. Find Maybelle or I tell the vampire,” Gerard says evenly. His shoulders are hunched up by his ears and his hands are curled into fists like he’s ready for a fight.
I glare at him, my heart in my throat and the note crumpling in my clenched hand. I clench my teeth to keep from yelling at him or threatening him. I want to find Maybelle even if I do hate him right now.
“Do you have a map?” I grit out.
“At the warehouse,” he says, turning and walking away. I lock the car and follow.
Gerard’s office is in even more disarray than usual. The chair is knocked over and one of the computer screens is dangling from the wall, held up only by the cord. I stand in the doorway while he digs through a drawer and pulls out several maps.
Price of Magic: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Witch's Bite Series Book 2) Page 10