Realms of Spells and Vampires: Fae Witch Chronicles Book 5

by J. S. Malcom

  “We can drink,” Nora says. “That’s a total myth.” She points to her mouth and adds, “See this hole right here? I just pour the wine right in there like everybody else.”

  I have to laugh at her choice of phrasing. “Do you feel it?”

  “Not most of the time. You can’t have a blood alcohol count without blood. But if we just so happen to feed off of someone who’s got a good buzz going, that’s a different story.”

  Okay, so maybe there’s another reason why vampires prey on those who’ve been drinking. Who knows? Maybe that’s the main reason. But, wait. Obviously, vampires drink blood. Now, I know they can also drink other things. Does that mean vampires pee?

  I decide not to ask, instead opting for, “What about food?”

  Nora shudders. “Technically, yes, but it comes right back up again. Definitely not worth it. For a while, most vampires still crave food, but that’s entirely psychological. A month or so into the game, and just thinking about it makes you want to upchuck.”

  “Upchuck?”

  Nora laughs again. “Okay, vomit, hurl, whatever. I keep slipping tonight, which means maybe I’m getting a little too relaxed.”

  She doesn’t say it, but I know she means when she’s around me. I guess that same aspect is true for me too, in that I can be around her without feeling too edgy. The feeling never goes away entirely, but I can at least push it to the background.

  “I don’t think anyone is out here tonight,” Stephanie says, looking back at us.

  Nora shrugs. “All right. Let’s hang a right up here and loop back again.”

  Stephanie sighs. “Wish I was a rich vampire so I could keep a few blood bags in the fridge.”

  “We don’t have a fridge,” John says.

  “Wish I was a rich vampire so I could have a fridge,” Stephanie says.

  John laughs.

  Eric, on the other hand, seems distracted. He keeps looking around as if scanning for something. We walk for another minute, following a bend in the path, and then the others start doing it too.

  I turn to Nora again. “What’s up?”

  She holds up a hand, signaling for me to stay quiet. We walk a few more steps before my edginess, suppressed before, starts to escalate. It’s not the prickly demon energy I’m picking up on, that sensation which makes my skin crawl. Instead, I’m pretty sure it’s more vampires.

  Stephanie turns to look at the others. “That’s Michelle, right?”

  “I thought that was her,” Eric says. “It sounds like she’s influencing someone.”

  “Doesn’t sound like it’s working,” Nora says.

  I keep straining to hear, but we have to walk a few more yards first. Then I hear it too, a woman’s voice speaking softly in firm, measured tones.

  “I said you will turn around and walk away from us,” she says. “Now, do it.”

  “Sounds like she’s in trouble,” Stephanie whispers.

  Then I hear another voice, a man’s this time. “Guess what? That shit doesn’t work on me.”

  Nora starts to slow, signaling for the others to do the same.

  Stephanie shakes her head. “We need to help her.”

  Ignoring Nora, she picks up her pace. Nora sighs and does the same. A moment later, we come around the corner and stop.

  Three people stand just off the path in a clearing between trees. Two of them appear to be a couple, or at least together. She’s petite and blonde, the girl who must be Michelle, beside her a guy with brown hair. But it’s the guy standing across from them who rivets my attention, my breath catching in my throat. He's young, lean and tall, his posture aggressive toward the couple he faces. But it’s mostly his hair that I notice. Even at night, it shines silvery gray. It’s Silas. It has to be.

  “We didn’t mean anything,” the girl says. “We were just checking on you.”

  Silas steps closer to the couple. Light swirls around his hands, which for now he holds down at his side. “By ‘checking on you,’ I guess you mean sneaking up behind me.”

  The other vampire shakes his head. His eyes are wide, leaving little doubt that he sees the magic being summoned for the strike. “Seriously, we didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Really,” the girl says. “We weren’t going to hurt you.”

  I can guess what just took place. The vampires thought they’d found prey, this person out walking alone. And what Michelle said is probably true. At least in her mind, she really hadn’t planned to hurt him. All the same, her attempts at reassuring Silas fail. He takes another step closer, the light of his magic pulsing stronger.

  “Just so you know, you didn’t scare me,” he says. “I’ve got news for you too. You can’t hurt me either. On the other hand…”

  He lets his words trail off, and for a moment the silence lingers. Then, like a snake ready to strike, he takes one quick step back. He thrusts out his arm once and then twice, launching two pulsing orbs in quick succession. The vampires see what’s coming, but it’s too late to move. Light engulfs them and they cry out as they drop to their knees. They crumple inward, instantly starting to decompose.

  Beside me, Stephanie cries out, her anguish echoing through the night. “What did you do? Why would you do that?”

  Silas spins at the sound of her voice, his expression shocked at suddenly seeing us. I watch as that shock shifts to a look of malicious interest as, for a moment, he thinks we're all vampires. Then comes stunned recognition when his eyes finally find me. Another orb flares to life in his hand as I too summon my magic.

  I turn to those beside me and yell, “Run!”

  The vampires scatter as Silas launches his orb. I do the same, the two magical charges meeting between us in a fiery explosion. The released force blows me back to stumble and then trip to the ground. I scramble up again to see that Silas is not only still standing but advancing toward me. He keeps his eyes locked on mine, his face twisted with hate. “They said I wouldn't be strong enough yet, but maybe they're wrong.”

  I stride toward him. “Who told you that? Why?”

  That’s as far as I get before I'm lifted into the air, my throat tightening as I start to choke. Silas holds his hands out, clenched as if strangling me, his brow furrowed in concentration. From the back of my dazed mind, I register what's going on. The fucker is using combat magic, a type I haven't learned and wouldn't want to. Although, I have no doubt where he did.

  “Who told me doesn't much matter,” he says. “But why. Let's talk about that.” Silas sneers at me, still holding me up in the air. “Maybe because you killed my mother?”

  Shock surges through me as I struggle against his hold. I shake my head, trying to speak as I gasp for air.

  “What's up?” Silas says. “You look a little surprised. Oh, I know. You thought because no one knew she was a veil witch, that no one would make the connection.”

  Again, I shake my head, my mind reeling. Part of me knows I need to fight back, while part of me remains too stunned to move.

  “In fact,” Silas says, “You thought that you and your sister would remain the only ones of your kind. That was the plan, right? To rule over the witches?”

  I snap out of my stupor at the mention of Autumn’s name. What this asshole thinks, or why he thinks it, isn't my problem. But I'm not going to leave him out there hunting my sister. With resolve comes focus, connecting me again with my powers. I thrust out my arms to launch a shockwave of energy. Silas hurtles backward and I drop to my feet. Then I start marching forward.

  “Listen, shithead, you got that backwards. In this case, the who matters very much.” I start punctuating my words with quick jabs of lightning, focused at Silas's feet to keep driving him back. “I'll just take a stab at it. One of them is an asshole named Vintain, the other some bitch named Nepheras. Am I getting warmer? Maybe even hot?”

  Silas manages to steady himself, raising a glowing outstretched hand, but this time I'm ready. Before he can strike again, I shift magical weapons once more, this time choosing m
y energy whip. I crack it against the air above him, once, twice and then again. He winces and falls back.

  “Listen, and listen good,” I say. “I didn't kill your mother.” Silas throws out his arms, forming an energy shield to block my attacks. Damn, he really is strong, his magic already rivaling my own. God knows where we'll be if that strength keeps growing.

  I crack my whip again, making sure I have his attention. “Did you even read her Book of Shadows?”

  A look of bewilderment crosses his face. His eyes dart nervously to mine, then away and then back again. “There's nothing there. The pages are blank.”

  For a moment I'm puzzled too, but then I make the connection. Lauren Flannery charmed her book so that only a veil witch could read it. Silas isn't just a veil witch. He's something more, his magic enhanced through some other source.

  “First rule of magic,” I say. “Just because you can't see something doesn't mean it's not there. I read your mother's book. Do you want to know how? By not being a total asshole!”

  I crack my whip again to drive my point home, throwing all of my energy against his shield. The thing bursts apart in a shower of sparks. I lash out once more, using precision to land a light blow. Silas lets out a howl and grabs hold of his arm.

  “Let's see if we can finish this with one more lesson,” I say. “Your mother wasn't killed by a veil witch. She was killed by a changeling named—”

  Suddenly, there's a roar against my ears as I'm struck by a blast of hot wind. This time I'm not just thrown, I'm catapulted through the air. My back slams into a tree and I fall to the ground, the air rushing out of my lungs. I lay there groaning for a moment, my ears ringing. Where the hell did that come from? I thought I had Silas beat, or at least licking his wounds.

  I clamber to my feet to stagger back in Silas's direction, commanding the sheath to unstrap at my calf. I don't want to do it, but if I have to I'll drag his dead body to the trial.

  “I don't know what it's going to take to make you listen,” I say. “For the last time, I'm not the one who—”

  I stop as his gaze locks onto mine. Silas's eyes, pale blue before, have shifted to an all too familiar jade green. The serpent tattoo on his arm, which I'd all but forgotten, now glows with fiery light. And the grin that splits his face, I've seen on another before—a face that's bone-white, scarred and framed by slender pointed ears. Behind him, a portal that wasn’t there moments ago, now pulses with orange light. As Vintain looks at me through Silas's eyes, he raises a hand to his forehead to give me a quick, joking salute. Then he steps back into his tunnel, which starts closing around him, as he takes his veil witch with him.

  CHAPTER 31

  It doesn’t exactly help that the setting for Autumn’s trial is almost identical to that of my first and only coven meeting. We sit gathered in Sarah Wellingsford’s atrium, the inky night sky beyond the glass above, and beneath it at least two-hundred floating flames. Unlike last time, those flames burn in a spectrum of different colors. Some glow white like candles, others in hues of green, blue, and purple. Instinctively, I know they’re wards.

  As I scan the gathered crowd, it’s easy to see why those wards are needed. While last time this room held only witches, that’s not the case tonight. Among us are vampires and werewolves, as well as some of the Vamanec P’yrin, including Autumn’s friends, Paul and Claudia. It’s the custom, I’ve been told, in cases like this. In the event of a supernatural crime, the supernatural community has the right to witness judgement.

  Suddenly, the flames surge, their light splashing across the glass above us. Then they lower, as their light again becomes muted. Beside me, Phoenix speaks softly. “That’s the signal,” he says. “It will start now.”

  At the far end of the atrium, the doors swing open at the hands of unseen witches. A hush falls over the crowd as my sister enters the room. She walks alone toward the dais erected for this occasion. She holds her head high, not looking around, even as I try to catch her eye to offer reassurance.

  Next come the jurors, a group of ten witches supposedly chosen at random. Whether this is true, I can't say. All I know is that they don't look familiar. Then again, to be fair, I haven’t spent much time around the larger witch community.

  Next enters Isabel, who will be acting in Autumn’s defense. She wears a flowing dress of pale green, which sets off her long golden hair. She too walks proudly, her gaze fixed straight ahead, looking very much like a queen of the witches.

  Then a man enters the room. He’s tall, with black hair graying just slightly at the temples. He's dressed formally, wearing an expensive dark suit. He is not a man I've seen before. Nor is he, strictly speaking, truly a man. His name is Phillip, and he’s known to his kind as this region’s arch vampire.

  Finally, one more enters the atrium, the doors closing behind her. This is the witch of influence, the one who will both preside and, ultimately, pronounce judgement. Her name, of course, is Sarah Wellingsford.

  As she passes before us, Phoenix gently places his hand on mine. It's a gesture of comfort, but also a reminder. He's right, of course, in that I seethe at the sight of the woman before me. It's all I can do to control myself, and those wards keeping our magic at bay are probably a good thing.

  “Don't forget there's a jury,” Phoenix whispers.

  Again, the reminder is a good one, meant to set me at ease. The message being that the jury will make the determination, while Sarah's role is to decide on the sentencing. We already know the options there, all of them bleak. Still, this is a supernatural trial, which means I have no way of knowing what to expect.

  The room remains silent as Autumn steps up onto the dais, taking the lone defendant's chair. She won't share a table with Isabel, who goes to stand behind one of three lecterns. Phillip takes his place behind one as well, as does Sarah. Her lectern is taller and placed in the center. All three face Autumn. The jurors now sit in a row off to one side.

  Sarah Wellingsford gazes out from her raised position. Not surprisingly she’s the first to speak. “We have gathered here tonight to determine the possible culpability of one of our own—a witch named Autumn Winters—with regard to the senseless murder of multiple vampires.”

  It's not lost on me that Sarah portrays Autumn as being “one of our own.” After all, she's more likely to get what she wants if she appears to be impartial. Feeling me squirm in my seat, Phoenix squeezes my hand as Sarah continues.

  “As you all know, a truce between supernatural factions has been holding for some time. An act such as this threatens that peace, and the perpetrator must be held responsible.”

  In other words, a few months ago it would have been fine to take out a few vampires. If anything, it would have been cause for celebration. But, hey, why not fuck over a veil witch if given the chance?

  Thankfully, Phoenix gently squeezes my hand again just as I feel an involuntary surge of magic. This place may be warded, but I'm not sure they got their safeguards properly calibrated for my level of anger. Then again, that magic I feel is directed entirely at Sarah. Strange. What is it about her that would draw out my veil witch magic, especially when it’s supposed to be nulled?

  Still, this isn't a time to let my mind wander. I need to pay attention, and I force myself to focus when Sarah speaks again.

  “In keeping with our coven traditions,” she says, “the defendant has had her powers bound. Tonight we will determine whether her powers should be restored, or if”—Sarah pauses for dramatic effect as she looks around the room—“the defendant should suffer the punishment deemed appropriate for her crimes.”

  I want to strangle that bitch for the way she just reduced my sister to “the defendant,” turning her into more of a thing than a person. Not to mention referring to those murders as “her crimes.” Naturally, she also skipped the part about the punishment involving possibly being torn apart, or being essentially turned into a vampire slave.

  Of course, Sarah's not done. In fact, I could swear she’s enjoying the
attention as she gazes around the room once more. “Since it has been some time since we were last forced to conduct such proceedings, allow me to explain the protocol. It is a simple one, without the pretenses and formalities of those observed by our non-magical counterparts. We will examine the evidence as presented by both parties. The arch vampire, Phillip, will speak for the aggrieved faction of our community. Isabel Aimes will speak for the accused. The defendant may speak too, at any time she wishes. Once the facts have been brought to light, the jury will be called upon to make a decision. The main difference in a trial such as this is that we are required to consider supernatural circumstances. Which we must accept are often quite nuanced.”

  Which I take to mean impossible to prove. Handy when you’re trying to set someone up.

  “If there are no questions,” Sarah says, “we will begin the proceedings.”

  Sure, I have a question. How would you like me to tear your face off?

  Apparently, I’m the only one with a question since, after surveying the room once more, Sarah turns her attention to the arch vampire. “Phillip, please tell us how you came to be informed of the crime.”

  From behind his lectern, Phillip glances out at the observers. Then he angles toward Sarah. “We learned about the murders from a member of the Vamanec P’yrin clan named Ellis. As some of you know, the Vamanec P’yrin can sense when there’s been a breach in the veil. For reasons not made known to me, Ellis decided to visit the location of the disturbance. There, he came upon the crime scene.”

  A murmur ripples through the crowd, suggesting that many don’t know of this ability possessed by the Vamanec P’yrin. Then again, that’s not entirely surprising. Of those in the supernatural community, the Vamanec P’yrin remain the most reclusive and mysterious.

  “Please tell us what happened next,” Sarah says.

  Phillip nods. “Ellis encountered one survivor, to whom he offered protection. Following that, he informed me about the incident. I dispatched a team to investigate.”