by Multiple
As sketchy as my work could be at times, I really couldn’t complain. My abilities as a witch kept me from doing well in school, making any real friends, and maintaining any sort of romantic relationship. For someone without a college degree, it was either the service industry or honing my talents and making pretty good money with NACA. I went with option B.
“Maybe you should consider contracting,” Jack said, staring out into the night.
“Yeah,” I snorted. “And when The Watchers comes knocking, who’s gonna answer?”
The Watchers did just that…watched all supernatural beings and specials (humans that had magical or supernatural abilities). They’re like the supernatural CIA. They ensured that Dick and Jane didn’t go blabbing to CNN about Fido shifting into a sultry woman and seducing their sixteen-year-old son. They also enforced the supernatural laws that kept me from setting up shop on my own and vampires like Jack from snacking on whomever they pleased. Accidents happened, of course (see: Sherry Jackson), but whoever tripped up was summarily taken care of.
There were ways around The Watchers’ closed-lip policy about the supernatural world…NACA advertised on TV for crissakes. Most rational, thinking humans shrugged it off as a scam, and any that dug too deep suddenly had really selective amnesia.
Jack puffed out his chest a bit. “I’ve got connections too, you know.”
It was my turn to raise an eyebrow. “Vampires only reign supreme in Twilight. Besides, you’re what? 310?” Give or take a couple dozen years. Jack was turned when he was 24, and vampires usually don’t count their human years unless they’re feeling nostalgic. “The Watchers would eat you alive, babe.”
“Life existed before The Watchers, you know,” he said through clenched teeth. “My kind were-”
“Raping, pillaging, and sucking the marrow out of women and small children?” I piped, my voice candy sweet.
“You’re pushing it.”
“But now you’re just another supernatural being,” I continued with a devilish grin. “You kowtow to The Watchers just like every other thing that goes bump in the night.”
I gasped as he moved quicker than my human eyes could see, pushing me against the railing. I stood on my tiptoes, my back arched as he pressed his body to mine. I felt the curve of his erection raging against me. “You’ll talk to me with some respect, human.”
I leaned in close, my mouth inches from his. “Who’s gonna make me?”
His lips quivered with desire. We knew this game all too well. He’d threaten to kill me, I’d call his bluff. The thought of him feeding on me made my body tremble with longing. I wanted to feel his teeth rip into the tender meat of my neck. I wanted to be that close to him, to become a part of him.
“Maybe you don’t have it in you,” I baited him.
“Maybe I’ll eat you for dinner.”
I bared my neck. “Give it your best shot, fanger.”
I watched as his canines elongated, shimmering in the moonlight. I could feel how much he wanted me – it burned in his thoughts, in his touch.
As his lips brushed my neck, I let out a small moan of pleasure. I felt the warm throbbing at the heart of me as his thick desire hardened, pressing through my thin nightgown.
“Such beautiful skin,” he murmured, his body muscled and powerful against me. “My little ebony witch.”
Usually his pet name for me would make me roll my eyes, but I found it endearing. Hot. My breath came in stuttering gasps as I looked at our skin clashing into each other, his luminescent, mine dark and glittering. Ebony and ivory. Witch and a vampire.
I pushed aside the consequences. So what if he would be driven mad and drink me until my body was dry? Who cares if I became a succubus, cursed for giving into my forbidden desire? Right now, all I could think about was pushing him to the floor of the patio and screwing his brains out.
I nuzzled him, lost in the waves of passion that threatened to consume us both. “Do it,” I whispered. “Bite me.”
He denied me, instead sweeping me into his arms in a hurricane of passion. We shed our clothes and left nothing but pulsing skin, the roar of it screaming in my ears. Naked beneath the silver light of the moon, there was only the intoxicating tingle of anticipation that made me dig my nails into him and draw him closer.
“I want you, Jack,” I moaned. “Take me.”
“Oh gods,” he sighed, tracing his fangs over my dark skin. I cried out as they pinched my skin. Closer. Deeper.
I inhaled sharply as I felt a weird sensation ripple across my skin. It was a white-hot heat that made my skin vibrate with delight. Something echoed in the pit of my stomach…a bottomless ocean of hunger. But it wasn’t for the bulge, to feel him pound in and out of me. I was hungry for energy. All of Jack’s energy.
I swung him around with a supernatural ease, slamming him hard against the rail. It was my turn to squeeze my body against his, moving in rhythm to the opera of sounds, of raw energy that reverberated around me. First I’d drink him dry…then everyone in the building. Then everyone on this street.
He pulled back, his handsome face contorted in pain. I could see every vein in his body now. The thick, gelatinous lifeblood of others that made his carcass have a heartbeat drove me wild as I shoved him back inside my apartment.
He started coughing and clutching his throat like he couldn’t get air. “Y-you’re, y-you’re…” he stuttered. He stopped trying to form words and staggered to the kitchen, where I kept a jug of chilled blood for him.
The distance between us sobered me up and I clutched a chair in the living room, steadying myself. “W-what’s…what’s happen-” I clutched at my throat then pulled back, glancing at my hand. There was barely a smudge of red there. It truly was magic…what a droplet of blood could do.
After a moment the room righted itself. The hunger quieted. I was back to normal.
“Damn it.” Jack gasped after a moment, gathering control of himself. His body still shook as he ran a hand over his mouth. “That was-”
“Amazing!” I finished for him. I held out my hand, the blood drying in the tiny cracks of my palm. “That was a little more than last time! Maybe if we could regulate it-”
“No,” he said loudly, shaking his head. “I could feel the change, Jade. If I would have had one more sip…” He let his voice trail off.
I tried to not look as devastated as I felt. Maybe I really was losing it. What kind of normal person wants to poison their boyfriend and turn into a succubus in exchange for the high of being drained by a vampire?
“What kind of person indeed,” he said playfully. His features had returned to normal, but his eyes still burned with worry.
I gestured to the bedroom. “We could still…”
He took a few steps back. “We should keep some distance for a little while.” He turned towards the bathroom, exhaling loudly. “I’m gonna to take a shower. A cold one.”
Chapter Three
Ink, and Blood, and Fairies…oh my!
The bubbly co-ed glanced at her friends for moral support, her baby blue eyes going round with fear. “Is it going to hurt?”
Sia Lancaster had the face of an angel. Her eyes were large and swirled with a rainbow of colors, changing depending on her mood. Her hair was softly weaved gold that fell in tumultuous waves down her back. Her body was seductive, plump in all the right places. She didn’t look a day over eighteen, but I knew that she was much, much older.
I still thanked my lucky stars that as a human, I couldn’t see her true form unless she wanted me to. Fairies have the faces of children and the bodies of demons, ancient writings carved into their serpent-like skin. And while Sia’s lips appeared lush, aching to be kissed, you’d be an idiot to try it. One kiss from a fairy and your soul was forfeit.
“What was that, dear?” Sia said to the girl as she held the needle, her eyes burning like red-hot coals.
The co-ed gulped, flashing a nervous look at her friends. “I-I said, is this going to hurt?”
Si
a’s fair face brightened as a devilish grin spread across her face. “Absolutely.”
I glanced away, shuddering as the girl’s screams echoed in my ears. I was intimately familiar with the needle – metal was plugged in numerous parts of my ear, my nose, and I even used to have my tongue pierced in my wilder days – but my piercer had been a friend who took care to ensure I felt as little discomfort as possible. I knew Sia was delighting in every shriek of pain she wrenched from the girl’s lips.
I smirked when a couple at the register who were flipping through Sia’s portfolio slowly inched away, reconsidering their decision.
“Wise choice,” I murmured as I pretended I was looking at the tattoo catalog that hung on the wall. It was filled with the standard fare found in parlors – intricately drawn “Mom” hearts, dragons, pin-up girls, etc.
A cold chill ran across my bare back as the girl and her posse stalked out of the piercing room.
“Stupid cunt!” the girl cursed through a mouthful of gauze. “I’m reporting this!” Her friends were on her heels, dead silent. I had a feeling none of them would be coming back to InK Tattoo and Espresso.
“Jade!” Sia cooed, sipping from a mug as she sat down beside me. She still wore her latex gloves and they were smudged with thick rivulets of blood. “What’s up?”
I cocked my head toward the exit. “How the hell do you stay in business?”
She finished her drink with one final gulp then let out a satisfied sigh. “It was just a damn tongue piercing.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Look,” she began, her voice like cool water. “Whether that chick wanted to admit it or not, she came here for the pain. Everyone who walks through that door wants to feel the sting of living.”
I gestured at her dirty gloves. “And those that bleed death?”
“They die happy,” she grinned. Sia pulled off the gloves, finger by finger. I could see her true face rippling below her skin as her fingertips brushed against the blood.
She tucked the gloves into her back pocket – a midday snack probably. Fairies don’t flit about pining over pre-pubescent boys after all…they were bloodthirsty, maniacal beings with a penchant for cream.
“Want a coffee?” she asked, sliding behind the counter. A fancy espresso machine gleamed beside the register.
“Nah,” I said, shaking my head. “I need something to shut me down, not wind me up.”
She licked her lips, her purple eyes sparkling. “That handsome bloodsucker keeping you up late, huh?”
“Sia!” I hissed, my cheeks reddening. In most things, I’m not a traditionalist. My arms are colored with tats, my face covered in piercings. I talk to the dead and date a vampire for chrissakes. But I still believe that what happens in the bedroom should stay in the bedroom; what Jack and I did between the sheets was our business and ours alone.
“Oh, the things I would do to that vampire…” Her eyes closed as she drifted away and hashed out her X-rated fantasies.
I leaned over the counter and pinched her, trying to snap her out of her dream. “He’s taken. Also, last time I checked, you guys feeding on each other is the worst thing that could possibly happen. The whole star crossed lovers, suicide thing.”
Vampires and fairies are cut from the same cloth, descendants from the same bloodsucking supernatural creature. Apparently, because of their super close lineage, they can’t feed on one another or they’d be driven mad. But that’s not the kicker – their love becomes so all-consuming that it compels and drives any mortal they come in contact with insane with lust and blood. The ‘face that launched a thousand ships’? Try fangs. You’d be surprised how many of the bloodiest wars in history can be traced back to a fairy or a vampire not being able to keep away from each other.
Sia shrugged. “I like Romeo and Juliet.” She closed her appointment book, her face going serious. “I don’t have another piercing until after lunch. Wanna talk about whatever’s going on?”
“I don’t want to be a bother-”
“Of course you do,” she winked and steered me towards her office. “That’s kind of the definition of a necromancer.”
I rolled my eyes as I slid into the seat in front of her desk. Her office was my favorite room in the building. While everything else exploded with color, her office was painted black; the only contrast the metal desk and the plush red chaise I was snuggled on.
“So what’s up?” she said as she leaned back in her seat. “Work woes?”
“No,” I answered. “Work is fine. Had a job last night.”
“I heard,” she said with a small smile.
“Oh?”
“Fairy,” she said in a “Duh” manner. “We feed on emotions, remember?” She closed her eyes, licking her lips. “And Mr. Brooks’ run-in with his wife…let’s just say I’m stuffed.”
“Mmm,” I mused absentmindedly. Fairies are drawn to strong emotions like moths to a flame. I’m sure they got a big ole cup of hate last night. But that wasn’t what was bothering me.
“So it’s not letting the wife torture her poor husband that has you all emo,” she said, scratching her chin.
“I didn’t let her do anything!” I laughed, my cheeks burning red. I’m not gonna lie though – seeing his wife march in like G.I. Jane in designer wear, clutching a can of salt, had been pretty darn amusing.
“Riiight.” Sia opened her drawer, pulling out a Jolly Rancher lollipop. She offered me one but I declined. “I suck at this twenty questions shit, so feel free to just clue me in.”
I thought back and remembered how strong the ghost was. The way he manipulated sound, moved objects…and I had a feeling that he wasn’t even that upset. “I may have unintentionally sicced an angry ghost on someone,” I said finally.
“Oh yeah?”
I nodded. “Brooks’ lawyer.”
She shrugged nonchalantly. “Aren’t lawyers pretty high on the Highway to Hell list anyway?”
I chuckled as I pulled myself up. “Yeah, lawyers suck. But that ghost…” My voice trailed off forebodingly. “I wouldn’t wish a haunting with him at the helm on anyone.”
“He did seem particularly…enthused,” she said, holding the lollipop in midair. “But it’s not really your problem, is it?”
I eyed her skeptically. “It’s not?”
“Ghosts haunt,” she said matter-of-factly. “Vampires suck blood, fairies-”
“Steal first borns?” I quipped.
“Ha ha,” she said, sticking out her tongue. “But seriously, it’s not your place.” Her carefree voice had an audible edge to it. “Just leave it alone.”
I shifted uncomfortably, not oblivious to the sudden change in the atmosphere. The air was tight with tension, like a rubber band pulled to its breaking point, mere seconds from snapping.
Sia’s crystal eyes softened after a moment, her voice like a whistle on the breeze. “You’ve been necromancing with NACA for how long?”
“A year and a half.”
“So you’re a newbie,” she said with slight condescension. “I’ve dealt with this whole supernatural thing for slightly longer than you. A millenia, give or take.”
“I didn’t see my first ghost yesterday, you know,” I said acidly.
I saw my first ghost when I was thirteen. I was at some god-awful Bible camp, my days spent journaling about how horrible of a person I was and singing hymns about bloody Jesus. The only redeeming factor was the Au Sable River. The rock shelves sliced through the water like forgotten cities waiting to be discovered. The dark froth churned and guzzled my ankles and promised to take me far, far away from the hours spent in prayer and incessant singing.
One night, when I was so homesick I couldn’t stand it, I ducked out of the cabin and ran to the river with open arms. I sunk my feet in the water and squeezed my eyes shut, sending out a beacon to the universe to save me. When I opened my eyes I saw her – Molly Jenkins. She was around my age, but I remembered thinking there was something sagely in her eyes and the way she moved
in the shadows. She came to sit beside me and we talked about our families and how awesome the river was.
The next morning, I asked my cabin counselor about the new girl and a mix of horror and sadness spread across her face. Apparently, Molly drowned in the river two years ago.
After that, I started seeing ghosts everywhere – at the corner store, at the park, at school. My dad blamed my hoodoo mother and took away a chunk of my summers with her in North Carolina. I wasn’t upset. Back then I couldn’t stand the country – she didn’t have a computer and we were miles away from other human beings.
But that didn’t stop me from seeing the dead. And no amount of prayer calls or psychologists with pills could curb my Sight. So I just stopped talking about it.
If Sia was bothered by my outburst, she had one killer poker face. She just leaned back in her chair, bemusement coloring her angelic face.
“I’m not some noob,” I insisted, annoyed now that I saw that she wasn’t even taking me seriously. “I didn’t fall off the turnip truck yesterday or anything.”
She laughed then, a lyrical thing that spilled out of her mouth like a music box. “You humans have the most bizarre sayings,” she said between gasps. “I mean, have you even seen a turnip truck?”
Chapter Four
High Rise Grave
I slid my Bug between the Explorer and Corvette with expert precision. Downtown Raleigh buzzed with lunch traffic, executives in power suits brushing shoulders with students and the homeless. The similarity to home made my heart throb with memories.
Right about now, I’d be on my way to my favorite bagel stand on the way to the coffee shop, giving my dad a peck on the cheek as he slid into a taxi that sat dutifully at the curb.
“Enough,” I scolded myself. I came to North Carolina for a reason. Reminiscing didn’t change the fact that I made choices…choices that led to my new zip code. Now I had to live with it.
I smoothed the front of my oxford shirt and gave my hair a good shake which made my chocolate twists fall in waves around my face.
I dished out a couple of quarters for the toll and pushed inside the glass monstrosity. It climbed to the sky, like those who had the fortune to work there wanted to take ownership of the sun as well.