Cantrips: Volume #1: Minor Magics Crafted to Amuse and Entertain

by Joey W. Hill

  Lyssa had wandered into one of the dress shops, a place she finally wouldn’t expect him to be in close attendance. Throughout their trip through the mall, he’d been carefully scoping out the jewelry, filtering it among the other pieces of information in his mind so as not to catch his lady’s attention. Now he returned to a kiosk where a girl was sitting on a stool, bending different weight silver wire into jewelry. He touched the body of a green-eyed silver fairy, her wings an elaborate interweaving of Celtic knots, and sent it swaying on its delicate chain.

  “What do you think, Kane? Will Mama like this?” Kane gurgled at him tiredly, but with a sweet smile. “I agree.” Jacob fished out his own money from his other pocket. It was a much smaller largesse, but it was important to him that he had those separate funds for moments like these.

  When she emerged from the shop, he was back where she’d left him. She tilted her head toward the checkout counter so he could pick up her purchases, which included two new pairs of shoes to wear with her holiday outfits. His lady, a mass of contradictions. She eschewed carrying her own packages, but while he retrieved them, she had no problem finding a towelette in the stroller pack and wiping drool off Kane’s chin. Of course, picking up the bags revealed she’d bought more than shoes. There were some tiny, transparent bits of silk and lace in there that he definitely classified as Christmas gifts to him.

  “Men are so easy,” she said, reading his mind and face.

  “Yeah, God love us.” He took over stroller navigation as she slid her hand into the crook of his elbow. “I see they gave you a stuffed animal.”

  “Yes, the polar bear came with a purchase over a certain amount.” Kane held the white stuffed bear, and Jacob had a feeling in a few minutes he would be using it as a pillow.

  There was a large box by the exit, intended for toys for the local homeless shelter children. When they’d entered the mall, Lyssa had directed Jacob to drop a sizeable cash donation in their jar, just like she had for the Salvation Army Santa. However, a group of adults and children from the shelter were now there, performing Christmas carols to add to the festive mall environment and draw more attention. They were using silver bells to punctuate their tunes. Kane started making noise, pointing at the shiny objects, so in mutual accord, Jacob and Lyssa drew closer to listen for a few minutes.

  It was then Jacob saw two children sitting behind the box. Since Kane was continuing to wave his arms and fuss, he realized it wasn’t the bells, but the box and children that were intriguing him. Like most toddlers, Kane loved a large box, so Jacob rolled him right up to it. “No, you can’t get into it. There are toys in it.”

  The two children sitting behind the box were now studying Kane. While those that were singing were smiling and having a good time, Jacob could see these two were less socialized. They were wary, their lives filled with too much uncertainty to be comfortable with all this.

  When he gave them a warm smile and a calming nod, the little girl spoke up. “He…he has strange eyes.”

  She turned beet red, as if she hadn’t meant to speak aloud. Jacob looked down to see Kane staring back at her, just as intently. “He seems to think you’re just as fascinating.”

  Kane made some unintelligible noises that raised her brow. When he made a face, it nearly made her smile. She put her hand up to her mouth, hiding it. Then Kane extended his bear, shaking it at her over the mouth of the box. Thrusting it at her with unmistakable intent.

  “Charmer,” Jacob murmured. He glanced at Lyssa. Kane might be unaware of the significance of his gesture, but it had moved both his parents. The little girl got up, came around the large box and took it from his hands, giving Jacob and Lyssa an uncertain look.

  “Yours,” Kane said. “Yours.”

  While he had few words yet, Kane knew “yours” and “mine”. In fact, Jacob was pretty sure “mine” had been his first word. The little girl nodded. “Thank you.”

  She retreated back to her brother, who put an arm around her and stared at them suspiciously. Kane looked up at Jacob, and Jacob tousled his dark hair. “That’s a very good boy,” he said. Not for the first time, he realized how fiercely he loved his son. As well as the woman who’d given him birth.

  Lyssa’s hand covered his, drawing his eyes to her. “Go back to the toy store,” she said. “Have the other train delivered to the shelter. Make sure you buy enough track for it.”

  “Yes, my lady.” As always, he was reluctant to leave them, even knowing the mall was one of the safest places they could be. When he reached the center atrium, before heading toward the toy store, he stopped amid the faux snowfall and looked back. His lady, beautiful and remote, the type of being that even the mass of intent shoppers gave an unconscious berth, had lifted Kane out of the stroller. She was holding him on her hip, the two of them swaying together, her holding Kane’s fist as if they were dancing. She turned them in a circle as the singers crooned a poignant “Silent Night.”

  His family. His heart swelling with love, he gave himself an additional moment to watch them. Because love was what Christmas was all about.

  One-on-One

  A vignette featuring Daegan and Gideon of Vampire Mistress and Vampire Trinity from the Vampire Queen Series.

  Originally Posted 9/15/2008

  Background: Near the end of Vampire Trinity, Anwyn set three conditions on Gideon’s service to her and Daegan. One of them was that he prove he’d accepted Daegan as his Master, as much as he’d accepted Anwyn as his Mistress. To do this, Gideon had to feed the male vampire and let Daegan take him to his bed, without Anwyn having to be present. This vignette focuses on how Gideon went about meeting that condition.

  Part One

  Round One

  Gideon twisted off the top of his beer, braced a booted foot on the edge of the coffee table and took a swig, waiting for the DVD player to juice up. Eyeing the bag of pork rinds next to him, then the artsy decorative bowl on the coffee table, he leaned forward, snagged the bowl. It had a base shaped like a beer can, and the bowl top, though shallow, had as much capacity as he needed. He tucked the base between his thighs to hold it and dumped the bag ass-over-end into the bowl. Easier for him to grab a healthy handful at a time. Plus, no crackling plastic to disrupt his Sons of Anarchy marathon.

  It was the first time since he’d stumbled into this unlikely arrangement that he’d had the living quarters at Club Atlantis to himself for a prolonged period. Daegan had left earlier in the week to fulfill a Council assignment. Gideon had stayed with Anwyn at the club, because Daegan felt better knowing he was watching over her. Bastard didn’t think about the two of them worrying about him.

  Of course, he’d be fine. He was always fine. Except for that time he wasn’t, and he’d have been tortured to death, drained and killed if Gideon and Anwyn hadn’t gotten to him in time. Daegan liked to point out that was about as likely to happen again as a lightning strike on his way-too-confident ass.

  That aside, it was better that Daegan wasn’t here. When Anwyn had decided, a few weeks back, to go off on this girls’ weekend, Gideon couldn’t help thinking about what would happen with him and Daegan hanging here together, alone. It was a good thing neither of his vampires latched onto his concerns, because vampires were like damn cats—the least bit of unexpected movement in their servant’s mind and they pounced on it like a tinfoil ball.

  Even if Daegan was here, it really wouldn’t matter. The vampire probably wouldn’t…usually it was about the three of them together, though on occasion Anwyn might take her pleasure with Daegan or Gideon alone. It actually wouldn’t be so bad if Daegan was here. It would sure make the apartment less empty, and maybe Anywn’s lingering female scent less distracting.

  Damn it, was he turning into a complete pussy? Before the two of them had come into his life, Gideon had been used to being by himself pretty much all the time. Had told himself that was the way he preferred it. Alone, he didn’t have to worry about getting someone killed. Or, even worse, having to express his feelin
gs.

  Here he was, by himself for the next thirty-six hours, no one to tell him what to do or how to do it, and he was missing them. Anwyn had given him the first three seasons of Sons of Anarchy for his birthday. He was going to laze like a bear in his den and be perfectly happy in his solitude. Beer, pork rinds and a marathon of shows about hardcore bikers. And since those bikers ran a porn studio—Season One or Two, he couldn’t remember—there was going to be gratuitous female nakedness. What else did he really need?

  Ice for your testicles, when Anwyn clamps them for scratching her coffee table with your boots. And submitting her Swarovski bowl to the blasphemy of your greasy snacks.

  The elevator to the lower level made the humming noise that said it had been engaged and was on its way down. Oddly, Gideon wasn’t too surprised to hear Daegan’s voice in his head, and knew he’d subconsciously sensed his approach before he got there. He’d been thinking about him, so he hadn’t realized his awareness was also linked to his physical proximity.

  What were you thinking about me, vampire hunter?

  How nice it was to have you out of my grill for a couple days.

  Sorry to disappoint.

  “I’ll live.”

  The elevator opened. Daegan was dressed in slacks and a pullover, and it was raining outside, because his dark, ankle length duster was spattered with it. Then Gideon’s nostrils flared and he realized the spatter wasn’t rain. “What the hell happened?”

  “A cadre of young rogue vampires who have watched Highlander far too many times. One of them even tried to give me the ‘there can be only one’ speech. I cut it short.” Daegan shouldered his bag of weapons and glanced toward the television with a flicker of interest. “They run a porn studio? Anything worth seeing?”

  “Girls with nice racks and very little clothes hanging on them.”

  “A day’s worth of ball clamping is definitely in your future,” Daegan observed, heading toward his rooms.

  “Only if you run and tell Mommy, you squealer.”

  Daegan flashed his devastating grin. “I can be bribed, vampire hunter. Just offer me something I want, more than seeing Anwyn punish you. I’m going to grab a shower.”

  As he disappeared into his room, those words were a cinch of barb wire, drawing everything into a tight ball in Gideon’s lower belly. It was a familiar feeling, that mixture of anxiety and anticipation. And he wasn’t sure how the hell to feel about that.

  When he’d committed to be in Anwyn’s service, she had required him to prove it with over six weeks of intense 24/7 servitude. Hell, she hadn’t let him wear clothes in the apartment for forty days. At the end of those days, he could practically become hard on demand, responding to their desires with mindless intensity. But their desires. Or hers. Never just his. Daegan’s.

  But despite that frisson of apprehension, it wasn’t his top concern at the moment. The spatter on that coat wasn’t the blood of other vampires. It was Daegan’s. And the clothes he was wearing weren’t his usual hunting clothes. He’d changed before he got here. Hearing the shower switch on, Gideon rose and went to their laundry room, where Daegan had dropped his bag. Squatting, he unzipped it.

  “Shit,” he muttered. The smell of blood was strong, despite Daegan having rinsed the clothes out somewhere. Lifting out the thick black cotton shirt, Gideon eyed the eighteen-inch slash that had cut through it. Someone had gotten him pretty good. There was a puncture tear in the jeans. Damn, the Council had sent him into a nasty nest. By himself.

  It pissed Gideon off about ten different ways, because he knew there were still those on the Council who’d rather just not have Daegan around, but Daegan believed in what he was doing. He’d thought about leaving it for Anwyn’s sake, but Gideon and Anwyn had convinced him what he did was too important to give up, knowing he really didn’t wish to abandon it.

  Maybe they should rethink that. Gideon stuffed it all in the laundry, dumped in detergent and got it started. They needed to wash it out before they threw the ruined clothes away, because cops got a little suspicious about blood-soaked clothes in a dumpster. And if they tested those clothes, the physiology of vampire blood could cause some complications.

  Gideon went back to the kitchen. He kept a couple extra bottles of blood in there if Daegan or Anwyn wanted to take it that way instead of fresh from the throat. Anwyn rarely did, preferring to curl up in his lap and tease his throat with her fangs. Or stretch him out on the bed, arms and legs chained, and draw from his thigh, her hair brushing against his hard cock, the straining muscles of his thighs. But unless the three of them were tangled together, Daegan took it this way. He’d never taken it from Gideon one-on-one, except that one bleak day, months ago, when Gideon wasn’t sure where he belonged. So he guessed that sort of didn’t count, or at least wasn’t the same situation as the sensual, lazy teasing of Anwyn’s tongue tracing his jugular, her soft breath on his flesh.

  Though he tried to dispel it, he couldn’t help imagining what it would be like if Daegan came up behind him when Gideon was on the couch. The vampire’s skin would be damp and heated from his shower. Strong hand curling in Gideon’s hair, the other sliding across his throat, tilting him back with that demanding touch, his fangs punching into Gideon’s flesh. Daegan would lean over further as he drank, hand cruising down Gideon’s chest, into his lap to grip his cock, work him like a damn gear shift, revving him up from zero to a hundred in a—

  Gideon closed the refrigerator with a decided snap and went back to the couch. Damn it, why did Daegan have to come back early? And damn it, why did he have an overwhelming urge to march straight to that shower, yank open the door, and inspect Daegan head to toe, make sure everything was all right? He’d seemed to be moving okay, but Daegan healed with lightning speed. No matter what, he’d need blood. More than a couple small bottles. But for some reason, Gideon didn’t move back toward the kitchen, toward the knives and crystal tumblers he could use to slice a vein and work up a visceral crimson cocktail for Daegan. It was almost as if he didn’t want Daegan to have options other than him. It was almost as if he wanted him to…

  Sitting back down, he pressed play on the DVD and turned up the volume, drowning out his thoughts with the opening riff for Sons of Anarchy. Porn, bikers, trash talk. That was all that mattered today.

  §

  He knew exactly when Daegan returned. The scent of freshly showered male reached him a moment before the vampire came into view in faded jeans and a shirt buttoned a careless two buttons, just enough to hold it on him. Bare feet, his dark hair still damp. He took a seat on the opposite end of the couch, finger combing his hair, which fell attractively over his forehead. Anwyn had asked him to grow it longer these days. It only barely brushed his collar, but being vampire, that was all the length it took to make him twice as irresistible as he normally was.

  At least that was what Anwyn said.

  Gideon put the bowl between them with the pork rinds. Daegan couldn’t chow down on them, but he might want a bite. “There are a couple bottles of blood in the fridge. You want me to mix them with something?”

  Daegan gave him a sidelong look. “You were prying where you were not invited.”

  “Didn’t realize your laundry was a state secret. You okay?” Gideon asked it straight out, with a touch of impatience. Daegan shrugged.

  “I lost a good amount of blood, but their advantage was numbers, not skill. I’ve been hurt worse. I suppose you will tell Anwyn.”

  “Not if you take the blame for anything I do to the bowl and coffee table.”

  Daegan’s lips curved, a distracting effect. “A fair trade. I’ll take a beer first, and think about the blood later.”

  Gideon automatically rose, went to the kitchen and brought him one. As he handed it over, Daegan considered the crystal bowl, a quirk on his lips. “Her birthday is coming up, you know. Any ideas? Other than getting you a proper chip bowl so you won’t use her table decor?”

  “There are a couple plastic bowls in the kitchen. Just d
idn’t feel like getting them at the time. She went pretty sappy over that puppy Chantal brought in with her niece. Maybe we should get a dog. Make our Christmas card family complete.”

  “Hmm. While her bloodlust attacks are getting more manageable, I’m not sure a pet is a good idea. Killing you by accident, she could probably get over. Killing a puppy, not as easily.”

  Gideon narrowed his eyes. “I could still let a thought slip about your Highlander geeks, you know.”

  “Only if you like testicle clamps. I’m pretty sure I already see a scuff mark from your boot there at the end.

  “If we had a puppy, we could blame things like that—and rips in your clothing—on him.”

  “Good point.” Daegan pursed his lips. “But since she’s off with Lyssa, doing female things like shopping, we could instead ask Jacob what Anwyn particularly liked, something she didn’t buy for herself. When is she coming back?”

  Catching the impatient edge to his voice, Gideon felt a little more on solid ground. On that, he and Daegan were on the same page. This was the first time since she’d been turned she’d been off without the both of them. Though Gideon couldn’t speak for Daegan, he felt like a parent letting his child go off for a sleepover for the very first time, a nameless anxiety moving in his gut that he’d been trying to coat with pork rinds and beer.

  “Sunday. Unless Lyssa finds more for them to do than can be covered in a weekend.” He gave Daegan a considering look. “Truth, I was kind of surprised you didn’t play the Ma—Sire card with her on this.”

  Technically, Daegan was Master to them both, though Anwyn was a vampire and also a natural Mistress. However, Gideon felt funny drawing attention to it without her there to be a buffer. Okay, it was official. He was being a chickenshit. And there was no way Daegan wasn’t hearing all this crap.