Magic and Mayhem: A Collection of 21 Fantasy Novels

by Jasmine Walt

  Deirdre kneeled on the ground in front of me, her back straight, her flat stomach just brushing the front of my knees. The train of her dress trailed out behind her. I couldn’t have gotten my dress to move like that no matter how hard I tried. One of the benefits of wearing dresses for hundreds of years, I guessed.

  “I need to get closer.” She spoke in a whisper and gently moved my knees apart. With a smooth motion, she eased her way between them so that she was right up against the seat of the chair.

  “Now, give me your arm.”

  I moved my left arm toward her, and she turned it over so that the inner parts of the wrist and elbow were exposed.

  “The trick, Gregory, to a clean, smooth feeding, is to first make sure you find the vein.” She spoke quietly, and as she spoke, she softly ran her hand across my wrist, brushing the skin lightly with her fingertips as she traced the blue veins up past the inner elbow, over the shoulder, and up my neck to a spot directly behind my ear. Her touch was cool and gentle. I felt my head tilting to the side almost of its own accord.

  She used her hand to cup the back of my head so that I turned and looked at her.

  “Always remember, Gregory, that the giving of blood is a gift, the taking of it a sacrament. This you already know: there is much joy to be found in pain. Now you must learn to share that joy with those from whom you feed.”

  I gazed into her totally black eyes, and there seemed to be a soft swirling to them, as if they were deep pools of water I could fall into. I heard her voice as if from a distance, and it was kind and warm and soothing.

  She leaned over my wrist and gently licked at it, following with her tongue the path she had traced with her fingers. Unlike her hands, her mouth felt hot when it passed over my skin. I shivered as her tongue passed across my inner elbow and slid up my arm. She paused at my neck and gently sucked at the skin.

  Somewhere in the back of my mind I could hear my own voice screaming “no” over and over, telling me to get up, to run, to save myself. But that voice somehow seemed disconnected from me; and even if it hadn’t, I don’t think I could have obeyed it if I tried. My limbs felt heavy and languorous, like weights keeping me in the chair. I sank even deeper back into the soft cushions. My entire body felt soft and warm.

  “That’s good,” Deirdre whispered to me, and moved her mouth back down my arm to the inner elbow. She rested her cheek against it for a moment.

  “Listen, Greg,” she said quietly. “Can you hear her heart beating?”

  “Yes,” Greg answered, his voice hoarse and uneven.

  She raised her head up from my arm and drew her lips back from her teeth to expose her fangs.

  At the sight of them, I felt a surge of fear rush through me—but still I couldn’t move.

  My heartbeat speeded up and Deirdre whispered, “Oh. Yes.” As if she had been waiting for that moment, she sank her fangs into my arm. I felt them pierce the skin, then felt the upper and lower fangs meet, just for a moment, under the skin, piercing the vein from two sides.

  Deirdre drew her teeth out from my arm and fastened her mouth over the four puncture wounds, sucking at them to draw the blood out faster.

  There is no adequate way to describe having a vampire feed on you when you are under its spell.

  I felt the pain as her sharp fangs entered my skin, but the feeling was as much pleasure as pain. My body reacted as it might react to a lover. My nipples hardened and a dull ache began throbbing deep inside me in time to my heartbeat as it pumped the blood through my veins and into Deirdre’s mouth.

  I watched her throat moving as she swallowed and I moaned aloud; I would have thrashed in my chair if I could have moved.

  The bite was yearning and fulfillment, desire and orgasm, all in one. My vision swam into darkness, and I closed my eyes, leaned my head back against the chair. Pleasure washed over me in dark waves, leaving me breathless and limp with no energy for thought. Even the screaming inside my head was silenced, or at least drowned out.

  I lost track of time almost instantly, so I don’t know how long the feeding lasted—left to my own devices, I probably would have let her drain me dry. Luckily for me, she was a vampire of her word.

  The first I knew of reality again was when she slowed the motion of her lips against my skin, then finally pulled away entirely.

  She looked up at me and whispered, “Thank you.” Traces of my blood lingered on her lips.

  The voice that had been clamoring away in the back of my mind demanding to be heard finally broke through the haze that had enveloped me. I blinked twice and shuddered, horrified at what had just happened. I still wasn’t thinking clearly, just repeating “no, no, no,” over and over in my mind.

  And to think I had been disturbed by the possibility that she might want to kiss me. This was infinitely worse. I felt dirty, cheapened by the experience.

  And it wasn’t over yet.

  If Deirdre’s blood-taking had been a seduction, then Greg’s was the closest thing to rape I hope I ever experience.

  At first, Greg tried the same tactics Deirdre had used; he knelt in front of me and ran his fingers up and down my arm and licked at the crook of my neck.

  He had never been a clumsy lover. We’d actually been pretty good together. I would have thought that someone who had known my body so well when he was a human would have some sense of how to arouse me when, as a vampire, he took blood from me.

  No such luck.

  A sense of déjà vu overcame me as his hands touched me, but the only emotion I felt was revulsion. His hands were far too different from what they had been. They were cold instead of hot, awkward instead of gentle. I leaned away from him and turned my head so that I didn’t have to look at him.

  He grabbed my chin in his hand and yanked it roughly back toward him. “Look at me,” he ordered. “Look at my eyes.”

  I again felt my arms and legs weighing me down, holding me in the chair. But instead of feeling warm and relaxed, I felt panicky. I couldn’t breathe. It was like being pinned down by someone much larger than me.

  Greg looked up at Deirdre, who had taken his place behind the chair, but she offered no advice.

  With a growl of frustration he stood up and ripped the top of my sleeve away from my shoulder, exposing the bandage underneath it, the one covering the healing wound I’d gotten during the fight at the armory.

  I felt a surge of fear again, and again my heartbeat sped up. I tried to move, but my body wouldn’t obey me.

  His nostrils flared. With one hand he pushed my head to the side while he ripped the bandage away with the other hand. Placing one knee between my legs on the chair cushion, he leaned his entire body against mine and slammed his mouth down against my shoulder.

  There was no pleasure this time as the fangs entered my body—just excruciating pain. A scream ripped itself from my throat and I tried to struggle. His throat moved convulsively as he swallowed the blood he’d drawn to the surface. With every sucking motion of his mouth, white-hot pain shot up my arm and across my vision. My breathing grew ragged. My pain seemed to increase his own pleasure and he sucked harder.

  After an eternity of misery, Deirdre put her hand on Greg’s shoulder. “It is enough, my darling,” she said to him. His mouth slowed its movement and he collapsed on top of me. His bloody mouth left smears on the upholstery behind me.

  Deirdre gently drew him to his feet and whispered to him, “You mustn’t fret, my dearest boy.

  You have time in which to learn.”

  Freed from both the weight of his body and the weight of his mind, I felt my gorge rising.

  No, I thought. I am not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me throw up. Instead, I put my head between my knees and waited for the world to stop spinning.

  Eventually my vision cleared and I looked up to see the two of them leaning forehead to forehead, holding hands and whispering to one another.

  “Can I leave now?” I asked.

  “Of course,” said Deirdre smoothly
, raising her head from Greg’s and giving his hands one last squeeze before turning to face me. That buzzing energy that I had sensed earlier now suffused her entire being. It was as if drinking my blood had strengthened her—and not just her body, but her entire… essence, maybe? She virtually glowed with it.

  And I could see the energy rolling off of Greg, too. His skin was brighter. I stared at him with loathing.

  “I consider our pact complete,” Deirdre said.

  “Here are his clothes,” Greg said, gesturing at Malcolm, who was still stretched out on the bed, unconscious. I didn’t know how he could have slept through the last half-hour or so, but I was grateful that he hadn’t witnessed the scene of my degradation.

  Of course, I could only imagine what Malcolm himself had gone through.

  “Or at least what’s left of his clothes.” Greg smiled evilly and handed me a pair of dirty, ripped, blood-stained jeans. “Now get out.”

  I wanted to take a swing at Greg, but a dizzy spell hit me and I had to sit down on the bed. I put my head in my hands and waited for my vision to clear. I had lost too much blood to pick a fight now.

  “Okay,” I finally said blearily to Deirdre. “Take us home now.”

  “Oh, no, darling,” Deirdre said, her voice syrupy sweet. She spoke to me over her shoulder as she walked toward the hall. “You didn’t negotiate for that. We’ll allow you to leave, and we won’t bother you again unless you come for us, but I’m certainly not arranging for your travel home.” She stopped at the door and turned around. “I suggest you find a way to call a cab.” And with that last parting shot, she was gone. Malcolm and I were alone in the room.

  Or rather, I was alone in the room with Malcolm. He was passed out cold. I pushed myself up out of the chair and stood over him.

  Oh, bloody hell. How was I going to get us home?

  I picked up the still-full glass of cold water Louis had brought to me—minutes? hours?—some time ago. I downed part of it, then dipped the damp washcloth in it and began wiping Malcolm’s face.

  He just whimpered and turned his face away from me. I sat down on the bed next to him.

  “No you don’t, Malcolm. Wake up. You’ve got to get up.” I plunged my fingers into the water and splashed a handful onto his face. He opened his eyes.

  “Elle?” he said.

  “Yep. It’s me. Come on. Get up. We’re leaving.”

  He rolled over and pushed himself up on one elbow and looked around. Not for long, though.

  His arms were weakened. I had no idea how long he’d been dangling from those chains, but it had left him with little strength.

  He groaned, and closed his eyes again.

  “Get up,” I said loudly. “Get. Up. Dammit, Malcolm, get up!” I nearly screamed that last at him, and he opened his eyes again.

  “I’m up, I’m up.” This time he managed to pull himself to an upright position by swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He leaned his elbows on his knees and put his hands over his eyes.

  I pushed myself off the bed and stood in front of him on trembling legs.

  “Put these on,” I said, shoving the jeans at him.

  He dragged them over his legs, then held his weight on his legs long enough to lift his butt and pull the pants up all the way. He quickly collapsed again without buttoning them.

  “I can’t do this,” he said.

  “Yes you can,” I said, my voice grim and determined. “You can do it because you have to. Got it?”

  Malcolm nodded. “Okay.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  I leaned into him and let him rest part of his weight on me as he stood up. The extra weight made my thigh muscles tremble. His legs were none too steady, either.

  We reeled through the hall like a couple of drunks on Bourbon Street at Mardi Gras—and believe me, I’ve seen enough of them to know. Malcolm’s bare feet scraped against the carpet as if he were too exhausted to even pick them up all the way off the ground at each step. It took us an inordinately long time to make it up the stairs. Malcolm had to stop several times to lean against the wall and rest. I wasn’t totally averse to resting, either, but I wanted to get us out of this house of horrors, and fast.

  Word must have spread through Deirdre’s party guests about what was going on, or maybe about who I was and what I’d helped do to the vampires in the armory, because when we finally staggered to the top of the stairs on the first floor, vampires lined the marble foyer. There was just enough room for the two of us to stumble through a cleared path toward the glass doors. None of the vampires ever actually said anything, but they all hissed and growled at us as we lurched our way through them.

  They closed ranks behind us, baring their fangs and making that god-awful, inhuman, cat-like growling noise.

  They didn’t follow us outside, though. The human attendant at the door opened it for us as if we were any guests leaving—just as if we didn’t have an entire vampire mob behind us growling and lusting for our blood.

  The thought made me shiver. So did the early-morning air. It wasn’t light out, but the air had taken on that slight dampness that indicates dawn is approaching. The long, curving driveway stretched out in front of us. We started down it.

  I still didn’t know how we were going to get home. No one was going to stop to pick us up; we looked like refugees from an insane asylum. Or worse. My long black dress was wrinkled and stained. Malcolm didn’t even have on a shirt, his jeans were unbuttoned, and the blotches on the pants really couldn’t be taken for anything other than the bloodstains they were.

  For that matter, Malcolm wasn’t wearing any shoes. We were only halfway down the driveway and already he was limping. Walking for any length of time on the road would tear his feet up entirely. At least I had my boots.

  My boots. I had totally forgotten about my boots, and about the cell phone in them.

  “Stop,” I said. “Wait.”

  Malcolm didn’t even ask me what I was doing. He just nodded wearily and stood still, swaying slightly on his feet.

  I shoved my hand down into my boot and lifted out the phone. Miracle of miracles, it was still on, it still had battery power, and if the minute-counter at the top was any indication, it was still connected to Nick’s cell phone. I turned up the volume and lifted it to my ear. I could hear traffic noises through the receiver.

  “Nick?” I asked. “Please tell me you’re still there.”

  “Elle?” a voice at the other end said. “Nick! It’s Elle! Hey, Elle. It’s Dom. Where are you? God, we thought you were dying there for a while. We’re coming to get you just as soon as you tell us where you are.”

  “Um,” I said in my most intelligent manner. “I don’t know. We’re on a driveway. Hang on. I’ll give you a street name as soon as we get to one.”

  I heard a fumbling sound at the other end as the phone changed hands. “Elle? It’s Nick. We’re on our way. Where are you?”

  “Don’t you people communicate at all? I already told Dom I don’t know. I’m headed toward a street. Give me a minute.”

  We weaved our way to the road and looked left and right.

  “Nick? I don’t see a street sign, but there’s some big marble sign out here that says ‘Eisenhower Park’ on it. Ring any bells?”

  “I know where it is. Hold on, Elle. We’re on our way.”

  Another wave of vertigo washed over me.

  “Okay. Hey, Nick?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m going to sit down now, okay?”

  “That’s fine, Dixieland. You do whatever you need to.” His voice was gentler than I’d ever heard it. “Just stay awake until we get there. You hear that?”

  “Yeah,” I mumbled. I let go of Malcolm and collapsed on the curb. He joined me a second later, then snaked his hand out to mine. I took it gratefully. I didn’t want to be alone out here in the night, either, even with Nick on the end of the line, even if Deirdre had promised that none of her people would attack me. For all I kn
ew, Deirdre’s vampires weren’t the only ones wandering around Long Island.

  “Elle? Elle!” Nick’s voice came to me as from a distance. “Talk to me, Elle!”

  Oh. The hand with the phone in it had fallen to the ground, far away from my ear. I lifted it back up. It was like lifting a heavy weight. “What?”

  “Elle, is Malcolm there with you?”

  “Yeah, he is.”

  “Is he okay?”

  I peered at Malcolm through the semi-darkness. The sky was begin to lighten in the east.

  “I guess. As well as he could be, all things considered.”

  “Are you sure they didn’t turn him?”

  “Totally.”

  I heard John cursing in the background, heard the sound of tires screeching and horns blasting.

  “Did you bring the whole crew?” I asked.

  “They wouldn’t have had it any other way, Dixieland.”

  “I’m glad.” My voice sounded far away.

  Malcolm laid his head on my shoulder and closed his eyes. I rested my head against his. I had to fight to resist the urge to close my eyes, too.

  “Elle, you’re starting to fade. Don’t do that.”

  Damn that man. How did he know, anyway? “I am not, Nick.”

  “Ah. That’s better. We’re almost there, girl.”

  I saw headlights round the curve of the road and moments later made out the shape of Nick’s van.

  I don’t think I was ever so glad to see anything in my life.

  The van barreled up to us, then screeched to a halt. Tony threw the back doors open from inside and jumped out to help us in.

  “Not me,” I said. “Malcolm first.”

  “Elle?” said Nick.

  “Yeah?”

  “You can put the phone down now. That’s a girl. Hang it up.”

  I shook my head and tried to clear my vision.

  “Okay. I’m awake now.” With Nick’s help, I dragged myself up into the van.

  “Well, you don’t have to stay that way for long.”

  “Thanks, Nick.”

  “No problem, Dixieland. We always take care of our own.”