Holidays Bite: A Limited Edition Collection of Holiday Vampire Tales

by Laura Greenwood

“The Fae Folk do take children, but they don’t sacrifice them,” Angelica said. “They keep them. I knew a changeling once. They wouldn’t be responsible. But a witch…” She glanced at him. “Do you feel any Dark magic?”

  “Dark magic doesn’t look like it was performed here, probably so it couldn’t be tracked,” he pointed out.

  “Fuck. I hate it when they are as smart as we are.” Angelica backed up, her hand on her gun hidden under her jacket. They both switched their standard silver bullets for iron ones.

  “Do we leave?” he asked. “They’ll get away if we do.”

  “Let’s pretend we found nothing. They ask what the thump was, tell them I fell in my heels,” she suggested. “I can play dumb girl when I need to.”

  Danny grimaced. “Well, don’t do it too often, all right?”

  “Deal.” She led the way back down the stairs. While they were upstairs, Mrs. Wharton, or whoever she was, was busy preparing a tea tray.

  I’m as likely to drink that as I am to drink that old blood upstairs, Angelica thought.

  She nudged Danny to go sit down. She walked over to the mantle that was artfully decorated with garland and a large holly wreath. A Christmas tree with white lights and silver ornaments was in one corner. The star at the top looked like an antique.

  “Mrs. Wharton, who are these people? Relatives?” she asked, looking at a picture of the deceased Whartons.

  Mrs. Wharton glared at her for a moment. Then her wide eyes drifted down. Angelica followed her gaze only to see a dark bloodstain on her pants. She had yet to kill anyone that day, so it was safe to say the blood came from the falling corpses.

  That never would have been visible if I was able to wear my black pants, she thought. On instinct, she drew her gun and it was a good thing she did. Before she could blink, Mr. Wharton leapt at her like a large cat, hands outstretched and around her throat.

  In order to get leverage, she allowed him to knock her into the mantle, the marble digging into the back of her neck. She fired her gun once, but that wasn't enough to kill a witch. She needed to shoot him five times. But that wasn’t possible with those long-fingered hands gripping her throat. She kicked out, her sharp silver heel getting him right in the chest. Her vampiric strength was enough to send him flying across the living room, right into the minimalistically decorated pine tree. The lights flickered and died as it crashed against the wall, unable to withstand his weight.

  She glanced over at Danny, only to find that he was grappling for his gun with the fake Mrs. Wharton. The woman was chanting under her breath, but it would do her no good. Danny was immune to most Dark spells thanks to his psychic abilities, though more harmless ones like a Stasis Charm could work for a little while.

  She aimed her gun at Fake Mrs. Wharton but, before she could take a shot, a searing pain radiated down her arm. Crying out, she saw a branch from the tree was shoved into the meat of her upper arm.

  The tree was real, and Fake Mr. Wharton snapped a few branches off, turning them into crude stakes. Ash was best, but any wood would work in a pinch.

  Angelica was between a rock and a hard place. If she wanted to take the stake from her arm, she would need to drop her gun. If she dropped her gun, she would be utterly screwed.

  She fired off a second shot in an effort to buy herself even five seconds, and it worked. Fake Mr. Wharton howled in pain as a bullet tore through his right eyeball, leaving a scorched hole where the eye should be, white goo and blood running down his cheek like cheap Halloween makeup.

  “This isn’t Supernatural, asshole.”

  Angelica tore the stake from her arm and the wound began to heal up, though not as quick as she would have liked. She fired a third shot, hoping to keep him down longer so she could go and assist Danny. It seemed that whoever this witch was, she was powerful. Not many people could take her husband on in a hand-to-hand fight, especially not ones with average strength. He was good.

  But now he had a black eye, broken wrist, and his gun was nowhere to be seen.

  “Hey, psycho!” Angelica called. The witch’s head whipped in her direction, eyes wide and unblinking in sheer madness. “Eat iron.” She fired the gun and hit the witch right in the sternum. Her scream was deafening.

  She had ten rounds in the gun, enough to kill them both if she was careful. Because Danny was good, but he couldn’t shoot with his non-dominant hand and hope for any sort of accuracy on a woman that tiny. Angelica would have to heal him to make him be of any help, and right then she did not have the time.

  First things first: she needed to finish off the man before going in for the kill on the witch.

  Strong arms wrapped around her, squeezing her from behind. But while their magically enhanced strength might be enough to harm Danny, he was human. She was not, and it seemed like these two knew little about what a vampire was capable of. Hot blood from his open wounds seeped into her jacket and pants, only making things worse for the wizard. She was deadly enough on a normal night; when possessed by her bloodlust, no one was safe.

  Angelica swung her head back, skull connecting with bone and cartilage in his nose. She both felt and heard the crack and his immediate wheezes as his sinuses and throat were filled with blood and mucus.

  He let her go and she swung around to face him, elbowing him in the collarbone. It snapped inward and the man screamed some more. Wasting no time, she fired the final two bullets, watching as his white, mist-like magic was expelled from his body before he convulsed, blood frothing at his mouth, and then ceased all movement. The pristine carpet was now soaked with blood, as was his pressed beige shirt.

  An enraged cry filled the room, and it looked like the she-witch was done with Danny for now, unblinking, pale eyes solely focused on Angelica. The same misty magic swelled in between her cupped hands, but Angelica wasn’t scared.

  “You think magic’s going to save you? You can’t abracadabra away an iron bullet.”

  There was one other little fact most adversaries didn’t know about Angelica, one that this witch was going to find out the fun way.

  Instead of ducking and rolling, as was the norm when an angry Dark witch was aiming a ball of pure energy at you, Angelica stood still and waited. The witch fired the ball, which would have been enough to kill any human and possibly even a shifter if it managed to get to its heart. A vampire in its path would get burnt to a crisp, as if out in fresh sunlight, with little hope for survival.

  As the sphere came closer, Angelica held her hand out and swiped as if she was playing volleyball. The magic moved with her hand, hitting the fallen Christmas tree. Angelica expected it to turn to ash. Rather, it turned to pure ice.

  That’s a mystery to solve after I kill the witch, she thought, turning quickly back to her opponent.

  The witch’s bright eyes were wide in surprise, lips parted slightly. This was Angelica’s chance, and she aimed the gun.

  The moment she fired the bullet, the witch vanished, leaving behind a thin circle of ice where she previously stood.

  Angelica dropped her arm to her side and groaned in frustration.

  They now had a dead child, two dead innocents upstairs, a dead wizard, and a missing ice witch. And she was covered in blood she couldn’t even drink.

  Danny went down, despite the broken wrist that still pumped blood, and checked the ice. “This is the Dark magic you were looking for earlier.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I guessed as much, thanks. And by the way? Next time you make me wear beige, remember how much blood I get covered in on an average day.”

  Chapter 4

  Angelica healed Danny’s wrist with her Undead blood and then he allowed her to drink from him to stave off the worst of the bloodlust while they waited for the PID to send a Medic and three ghouls. The ghouls were for corpse disposal and removal. The Medic would hopefully tell them who or what this guy was. Plus, they could take blood, tissue, and ice samples to analyze back at the PID labs.

  The ghouls eagerly went upstairs when they arrived f
or … disposal. Angelica blanched at the thought of devouring a corpse. She preferred her victims — blood donors — still have heartbeats.

  “So?” Danny asked the redheaded Medic, leaning behind him as he examined the body.

  The Medic sat back and said, “Skadi.”

  Danny narrowed his eyes. “You want me to leave?”

  Angelica laughed. “He said Skadi, not skidoo.”

  He turned to her. “Is that supposed to make any more sense to me?”

  “Skadi is a winter goddess. Or, we always thought she was,” the Medic explained. “Norse. Come look at this: runes burnt into the skin. They shaped and changed Skadi, probably because she couldn’t get a divorce from Njord.”

  Angelica held up her hands this time. “Okay, enough with the mythology lesson. So, this is a transgender winter wizard that I killed. Not that I blame him for changing to get out of that situation. Then who was the bitch that got away?”

  The Medic stood up and said, “Cailleach.”

  “God bless you,” Danny replied. “You got a cold?”

  The glare given to him could have killed a lesser man.

  “The original Winter Witch,” Angelica broke in, mostly to stop the men from getting into an argument thanks to Danny’s sarcasm. “Her name might sound like an old man hawking up phlegm, but she’s no joke.”

  “I figured that out when she gave me a shiner and made bones stick out of my wrist.” Danny subconsciously twirled the healed appendage.

  “What is their plan?” Angelica asked.

  “I’m a magical Medic, part of the Light; you might want to consult with someone a bit more well versed in Dark magic.” With that he turned away and walked out.

  Angelica flipped him off behind his back before glancing at Danny. “Let’s go home. I need to change and burn these fucking pants and make a phone call to Scotland.”

  Showered, changed, and comfortable, Angelica put her cell on speakerphone and called the one person she knew possessed more Dark magic knowledge than anyone: UK Coven Elder Salem Sinclair.

  “Miss Cross, what a pleasant surprise,” he said.

  Having known her for so long, he was one of only two people she forgave for forgetting her married name. The other was Sean, and it was obvious by his lack of comment that Danny didn’t mind Sinclair’s slip-up nearly as much as he minded Sean’s.

  “Salem, we have a bit of a Dark magic issue, and while I trust the Grand Coven here in Chicago, I need the help of a UK magician,” Angelica said, getting right to the point.

  “All right, I have a bit of time,” Salem said. “I’m supervising a student right now, but she does not seem to require much assistance at the moment. What is your trouble?”

  “We’ve got a Dark witch on our hands,” Danny spoke up. “She can turn things to ice and she sacrificed a child and five female reindeer the other day.”

  “One of our Medics gave us a name … we can’t pronounce it,” she admitted.

  “Cailleach,” Salem said, his accent perfect despite being from London. “In Scotland, we call her Beira, Queen of Winter. However … elemental witches, even ones considered goddesses, they are not prone to Dark magic.

  “If you were here, you’d see that she was not just using Dark magic, but it seems like she turned her Light magic Dark, period,” Danny explained. “I’m a psychic, I feel this stuff. Whatever she once was, she’s now insane, killing kids, sacrificing animals, and got Skadi, another winter deity, killed.”

  Salem scoffed. “I know who Skadi is. Allow me to write down some lore books I am sure you have on hand there in America and give you a ring. They can do more for you than I can. However … if she has turned Dark as you claim, then I highly doubt the books will be of much use. Good luck.”

  He hung up abruptly, and Angelica tucked the phone back in her pocket.

  “Is everyone you associate with an asshole?” Danny asked.

  “Well, yeah. Why do you think I married you?” she replied. It was still early, considering the sun didn’t rise until past six in the morning. However, she felt drained. A battle against ancient magicians, inhaling dead man’s blood, and dealing with the unknown took a toll.

  I wanted a vacation, she thought, leaning her head back against the couch cushions. And I am so fucking sick of witches!

  Danny leaned back as well, putting an arm around her. He pulled her head down to rest on his shoulder. In her lifetime, only Danny ever saw her at her weakest moments and lived to tell the tale. No one witnessed her exhaustion, her disgust, her burnout. They only saw Angelica Cross: hunter, leader, executioner, bad ass vamp. He saw the parts she hid under all her eyeliner and black leather.

  And he loved her all the more for them.

  “We’ll get her,” he said. “There’s nothing we can’t do, right?”

  She looked up at him and playfully rolled her eyes. His optimism was amusing. “Right.”

  “I just thought of something.” He didn't move as he spoke, except to run his fingers through her ink-black hair. “Most witches’ powers are amplified during the Spring and Summer Solstices, right?”

  She nodded.

  “Then wouldn’t it figure that Callieach’s powers would be magnified on the Winter Solstice?”

  She leapt up from her comfortable spot and exclaimed, “That’s in three weeks! The day before the holiday party at Crowley’s.” As soon as she began to calm down, there came the anxiety, only now it was tenfold.

  Every year she hosted the annual PID holiday bash at the bar she owned, and every year it was on December 22nd. It was best to be after the fasting for Ramadan, only a day after the Solstice, in the middle of Hanukkah, four days before Kwanzaa, and three days before Christmas.

  She was unsure of the winter witch’s motives, but she was sure of one thing: her coming to full power the morning before the party could cause great devastation to the PID, should she attack when they were all in one place.

  “Next year, we’re going to Antarctica for the holidays,” she declared. “The worst thing we’ll encounter are penguin shifters.”

  The next afternoon, as soon as the sun set beyond the horizon, Angelica was up and out of her coffin, makeup on, clothes perfect in record time. “Call Sean, have him get some agents ready for a briefing, most of them magical, some shifters and humans. No vampires. One garlic spell could render them all useless.”

  “You’re a vampire?” Danny said questioningly.

  “I’m different.”

  They didn’t drive to the PID: it was close enough where she carried him and used her vampiric speed to arrive in her office in record time.

  Danny bent over the trashcan and dry heaved, but nothing came up. “I hate it when you do that.”

  “Be thankful I can’t carry you in bat form,” she replied. She placed her jacket on the back of her chair and muttered, “I wish Brighton was here. Sean’s not bad, but no one is as good at tracking Dark magic with his app than he was.”

  Danny felt inclined to agree. Brighton Sands was a genius in science: both technological and biological. His loss was devastating to them personally, but also to the PID as a whole.

  “Gee, thanks,” a voice called from the doorway. Sean stood there, hands on either side of the doorframe. “Everyone’s assembled in the conference room as you asked. Everyone I could think of who could possibly be of any help. And I have the librarian pulling some books for you, too.”

  “Thanks,” she said, giving him a brief smile. “Head down and wait for us, we’ll be right on your heels.”

  Sean left, closing the door behind him.

  “What are you planning?” Danny asked once they were alone again.

  “Send the shifters out to search for her, just like bloodhounds. Flying ones can take to the skies, canine and feline can search on the ground and scent her out. Insects as spies.

  “Get the Grand Coven members to help us organize a search using magic. One of them can man the Dark magic trackers full time, while we make sure everyone has the
app installed on their phones.”

  He nodded. “If I may interject?”

  She paused, appearing amused. “You realize you run this place as much as I do, right?”

  Actually, he never realized that. In fact, he wasn’t sure what his title was at the PID anymore, since he quit being an agent after his first mission was completed and never signed another contract. And Sean was the deputy director.

  “No, but that’s not important,” he said. “When I was with the Chicago PD, when there was an imminent threat, we didn’t let the beat cops and sometimes not even anyone below Detective First Grade know. It could have caused panic. So maybe let them know time is of the essence, but don’t mention that we’re looking at three weeks. Only let in a few select people.”

  She nodded as he spoke. “That’s a good idea. We’ll pick team leaders to report directly to us, and they can be told the nitty gritty details.”

  Again with the “we”. He could not for the life of him figure out when he went from sidekick to superhero.

  “You ready?”

  He nodded. “Let’s hit it.” She took his arm in hers and led him to the elevators.

  At the PID, when you worked side by side with Angelica, as he had since his first day, you did not have conferences. There were no colleagues. It was Angelica barking orders to whomever she deemed worthy of letting in on her plans. And that list was infinitely small: Danny, Sean, Brighton, his husband Mark Evans, and occasionally Angelica’s former bodyguard, Bart Michaels. Out of the five, three of them were dead.

  So needless to say, Danny was never in the main conference room. The sheer vastness and whiteness of it startled him. The windows in here were real, and they lined one entire wall, giving an amazing view of the Chicago River.

  About thirty people were seated in rows rather than at a table, all facing forward as though they were at a lecture. Indeed, a lectern stood athe head of the room with a smartboard behind it. Sean stood to the side, not daring to pretend he was the one in charge.

  He knew better.