by T. L. Martin
“But…we were just here…he was just...” Oh, God. My throat was totally closing up on me now, making my words all but choke out. I took a moment to breathe, to swallow. “Please...can I have a moment?”
“Of course.” The man wheeled the gurney back into Ray’s room and glanced awkwardly down at his feet before meeting my gaze. “Uh, I’m sorry to have to say this right now, but...well, there will be some paperwork to fill out. When you can, of course.”
I nodded slowly, and he exited the room. Much of the feeling had drained from my body, with my shock refusing to subside. He was just here and so alive. Talking and grunting, even complimenting a vampire.
I felt Matt’s hand lightly touch my shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Charlie. I can start on some of the paperwork, if you want. Fill in what I can.”
I couldn’t bring myself to speak in more than a whisper, afraid of the tears that would begin to fall. “Thank you.”
I watched from the corner of my eye as Matt stepped outside, leaving the door only slightly ajar. My gaze was fixed on the white linens before me. I had to see him for myself. Stepping closer, I forced my fingers to peel the sheets back. It took everything I had not to break down right then and there. I inspected the lifeless face I held so dearly, memorizing each wrinkle and sorrowful frown line.
It wasn’t fair, having your life taken away like that. He just needed a little more time, time to find his peace again, to experience real joy, and feel laughter once more. I steadied my quivering hand over his, still warm to the touch.
“Sad, isn’t it?” I jumped at the soft, singsong voice, startled to find Anastasie standing beside me.
I hadn’t even noticed her chill, though it latched relentlessly onto me now. Her long blonde hair fell over her shoulders as she peered down at Ray.
“Such a brief life you humans have, flashing by in a heartbeat. Or lack of one, I should say.” The corners of her perfect lips curved up in an amused smirk.
Still watching Ray, I kept my voice low. “What do you want?”
Anastasie slowly stepped around me in a graceful, cat-like fashion, her eyes never leaving my face. “Oh, come now, Charlotte. Can’t a girl just stop by to pay her respects?”
I tightened my grip on Ray’s hand, determined not to let her have the satisfaction of getting a rise out of me.
“You just missed Desmond,” she murmured, stopping at the opposite side of me.
“What?” I didn’t want to engage in her trifle sport, but curiosity had gotten the better of me.
“Oh, yes,” Anastasie purred. “Really, you should be thanking me for this little visit. He was mere inches away from the poor fellow’s neck when I came to the rescue. Desmond has many strengths, but I’m afraid self-control isn’t one of them.” She grinned, pleased. “Not to worry, Charlotte,” she continued, meandering around me once more. “I’m sure he will be out of your hair in no time. After all, he only ever was after one thing with you.”
My body stiffened, unable to hide the way her words had struck me.
“Did you really think he was so unlike the others hunting you? The key difference, I will say, lies in his cleverness. Even after all you’ve seen him do, he’s still got you wrapped around his finger. Whether you realize it or not.”
She paused, tilting her neck to one side as she watched me.
“Mmm. If he makes it that long anyway,” she taunted, leaning in for a whiff. “I wonder...do you taste as good as you smell?”
Turning abruptly to face her, I held my ground. My eyes were sharp on hers and my stance unwavering. “Thank you, Anastasie, for the thoughtful visit. If you’ll excuse me, the door is that way.”
Her eyes sparked furiously, and she snarled under her breath. For an instant, it looked as though she might lunge. But, both to my surprise and relief, the vampire stopped short, her eyes lighting up and another slow grin forming on her lips.
“As you wish.” Although she took a step back, her silky tone was still threatening.
She was gone before I could blink, and I let out the breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. I didn’t know whether her account of Desmond should have had me doubting his motives more or less. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d suspected the very same thing, especially given Quinn’s warning. But, then again, everything out of Anastasie’s mouth seemed to be double coated. The mere fact that it was coming from her had me questioning it completely.
I could still feel Ray’s hand in mine. I tried to force the vampire out of my head. I wasn’t going to waste my attention on her, especially at a time like this when Ray deserved all of it. Closing my eyes, I gave him another small squeeze.
“It’s okay, Ray,” I whispered, a single tear trickling down my cheek. “Go. Find your wife and son. Be happy again.”
I gently released his limp hand and gave his cheek a soft kiss. Choking back the rest of my tears, my next words barely found their way.
“I’m really going to miss you, though.”
I forced myself to turn away, until I noticed his thank you note for the nurses still on the table. It sat between a blank notepad and a red rose. He would want to make sure they got it. Reaching forward to retrieve the note, a gold shimmer to its left caught my eye. I had to lean closer to get a better look and saw that the notepad was, in fact, not blank at all.
There, in golden ink, read a message:
Roses are red;
Violets are blue.
What has one nose, two legs,
And died here for you?
Make no mistake,
This is a threat.
Do as I say,
Or your aunt will be next.
Those vampire pets,
Though fun as could be,
Were nothing compared
To what she will see.
A few eves from today,
I will summon you.
You will know it when you see it,
Your one final clue.
Remember, sweet Charlotte,
This is our little secret.
Should you slip up and spill it,
It’s your loved ones who will feel it.
I froze, reading the message over again.
Those vampire pets. I thought back to the demented group of vampires who had attacked me and Desmond by the lighthouse. So this was who they were working for. The note was signed Tempest—a name I did not recognize. Priscilla would likely know who she was. The poem’s threat screamed back at me: This is our little secret. Should you slip up and spill it, it’s your loved ones who will feel it.
I couldn’t risk getting anyone else hurt. I would have to find a way out of this one on my own.
“Hey.”
I jumped at the sudden sound but relaxed when I saw that it was only Quinn. She had walked up to the opposite side of the gurney and was looking at me with sad eyes.
“Need a pen?” she asked softly, nodding toward the piece of paper in my hands.
To my relief, the page had returned to a blank slate. Tempest must be a witch. But how did she cast a spell over vampires? Was she really that strong, or were there others working with her?
“Uh, no,” I mumbled, quickly wiping a tear away and setting it back down. “Changed my mind. What—how’d you know I was here?”
She lifted the cell phone in her hand. “I texted Matt asking how it was going. Came right over when he told me.”
I gave a small nod of my head. Feeling more shaken than I cared to admit, it was difficult to speak much at all.
Quinn darted an uneasy glance at the lifeless body before us but then quickly turned away. “Sorry. It’s just...I’m not good with this sort of thing,” she muttered quietly, backing several feet away from him. “Wanted to make sure you were okay, though.”
“Thanks,” I whispered. If she only knew.
My eyes were back on Ray, but Tempest’s daunting words were making my heart slam against my chest and my head throb.
A gentle tap at the door announced Matt’s return,
and he hesitantly stepped inside.
“Paperwork’s somewhat done,” he said quietly. “There’s still a bit for you to do, though.”
“Thank you, Matt.” With my aunt being gone, I really was grateful that they were here with me. I couldn’t imagine having to stumble upon that gurney on my own. “I’ll be right out, guys. Sorry.”
“Hey,” Quinn said. “Don’t apologize. Take as much time as you need.” There was a glimpse of sorrow in her eyes, reminding me that she, too, had suffered great loss.
“What’s that?” Matt asked suddenly, walking up to the bedside table.
My heart skipped a beat, fearing that he had somehow spotted the message. But he didn’t look at the piece of paper and instead leaned in to get a closer look at the red rose sitting beside it.
“I don’t know,” I answered, shrugging a shoulder. “I think Ray left it for the nurses, to go with his thank you note.”
He was crouched down now, inspecting the flower closely.
“No,” he said. “The tips of this rose are black, and there’s ash on the vine. This wasn’t Ray.” He looked up expectantly at Quinn, and her face immediately froze.
“Tempest,” she whispered. She looked uneasy as she stared at the dark petals.
I glanced curiously at the rose, baffled by the witch’s intentions. Why would she leave such blatant evidence behind for everyone to find yet threaten to hurt my loved ones if I mention the poem to anyone? What did she seek to accomplish by this?
“Who?” I finally asked. I could not let on that I recognized the name, but I also needed to find out what they knew.
“Tempest,” Matt repeated, standing up and running a nervous hand through his hair. “It’s like her mark. Her signature.”
I reached down to touch the flower, but Matt hastily swiped my hand away. “Don’t touch it!” he said, fear in his eyes. “They’re enchanted. Most of them are bad enough to paralyze you with one touch.”
“We need to go,” Quinn sternly instructed. “Now.”
Matt immediately strode toward the room’s wall cabinets, digging through their contents.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Quinn answered first. “We can’t leave the rose here. Someone will find it.”
Finally finding a plastic bag, he double wrapped it around his hands and scooped the rose inside before sealing it with a firm knot. Both of them headed for the exit before pausing at the doorway, allowing me to say my final goodbye.
Turning back to Ray, I leaned down, pressing my cheek to his.
“I’m so sorry, Ray,” I whispered into his ear. “So...so sorry.”
Closing my eyes, I touched my forehead to his own, and my sudden rush of tears slid from my face to his. I was lightheaded now, my hands trembling on his skin. My one lifelong friend, an innocent in all of this, would still be alive if it wasn’t for me.
“It’s all my fault.” Giving his hand one last squeeze, I took in a deep breath, surprised to hear it quiver more prominently than I felt it. “I was too late for you. But I will fix this. No one else will get hurt. No one. I promise.”
CHAPTER TWELVE: SULA
The drive was quiet as I stared bleakly out the window, watching the evening fog cloud up the path ahead. Matt took a right, and I furrowed my brows.
“My house is the other way,” I mumbled faintly, my eyes still focused on the road.
“We’re not going to your house.”
When I didn’t respond, he glanced sideways at me.
“There’s someone you need to meet. In Myrtle Point,” he said quietly.
I shut my eyes, resting my head back on the seat. I hadn’t the slightest idea who they could possibly need me to meet right now, but all I wanted to do was to go home and crawl into bed, imagining for the night that none of this was really happening. That I was still a loner stuck at home with panic attacks, baking bread slices and pies for my oldest friend and neighbor.
I was already drifting off when the smooth road transitioned to the soft crunch of gravel, and I willed the blissful ignorance of sleep to take me away.
“Charlie. We’re here.”
Forcing my eyes to open, Matt’s face towered over me from the opened passenger door. I groaned, unfastened my seatbelt, and groggily exited the truck.
The house before us was small and stood alone but for a single neighboring bungalow. Though the paint from its yellow exterior and white trim was slightly chipped, it still managed to be an adorable little cottage.
As I lagged behind Matt, trailing along the vast yet baron field that was its front yard, I spotted a little girl picking flowers in front of the neighbor’s house. The girl’s blonde hair was tied into pigtails with pink ribbon, and I thought I heard a faint song, soft as a lullaby, coming from her lips even with the distance between us.
She looked up at me, her chocolate eyes locking solidly onto mine, and, for a moment, time stood still. I couldn’t look away. Something about her...the look in her eyes. I could have sworn they turned violet for an instant.
Wait...did I know her? It wasn’t that she looked familiar—in fact, there was nothing I recognized about her appearance at all. And yet, with the way those violet eyes drew me in so completely... I felt the familiarity; the tug was strong enough to make me want to follow after her and real enough to make my chest tighten.
“Charlie?” Matt’s voice came distantly, and I snapped my eyes away from the child. “You okay?”
I glanced down and realized I had stopped walking in the middle of the yard. When I looked back at the girl, she’d already returned to picking flowers. She didn’t seem to take notice of me in the least.
“Sorry,” I muttered, picking up my pace. “Coming.”
We stepped onto the wide front porch, and Matt shoved the door open without knocking.
“Charlie,” Pixie greeted me first, jumping up from the sofa and embracing me in a brief, but strong, hold.
Quinn took a seat on the other sofa. She stared in a daze at her hands, toying with the ring on her finger. I scanned the room, taking in the tall candles gently lit above each windowsill, and was surprised to see Desmond. His body was partially shadowed as he stood against the far wall, watching me.
“This way,” Matt urged. He lead me toward another door, right by where Desmond stood.
He gave a tap but didn’t wait for an answer before he pushed the door open and revealed Priscilla. I was surprised to find her sitting solemnly at someone’s bedside. Matt handed Priscilla the plastic bag with the rose, then made his way beside Pixie.
I stepped forward.
“You may leave the door open,” Priscilla instructed softly.
I obliged, making my way beside her and craning my neck to view the bed. There was a girl, maybe Quinn’s age. Her eyes were closed as she rested beneath thick layers of blankets. Smooth, light brown hair fanned out over her pillow, and I noticed the small hairbrush in Priscilla’s hand, the rose still in the other.
An empty chair sat alongside the bed, and I took the seat.
“Who is she?” I whispered.
“This is Sula.” Though Priscilla kept her voice quiet as the girl slept, I could hear the affection in her tone. “A sweet, timid girl with nothing but love in her young heart. She moved here from Israel several years ago in search of Tempest and me.”
I peered up at her, my interest peaked, as she continued.
“In order for you to understand who Tempest is—who we all are—I must shed light on some history,” she explained, setting the brush down and turning her full attention to me. “The very first pure witches to exist, more commonly referred to as Primaries, were born over one thousand years ago. There were five of them, each from a different part of the world. Now, fast forward to today, and there are only three witches directly from the Primary lineage still living: Tempest, Sula, and myself. A witch’s powers are strengthened considerably by their ancestors, making us more powerful than others—and also more prone to certain...sensitivities.”
“What kind of...sensitivities?” I asked.
“Darkness.” Quinn’s voice suddenly crept into the bedroom from where she was sitting at the sofa, still fidgeting with her ring.
We all looked at her now, several seconds of silence passing, and then she finally looked up, her eyes widening slightly to find all our attention on her.
“Darkness,” she repeated with a shrug. She raised her eyebrows in obvious annoyance, like she regretted speaking up in the first place. “What? It makes sense, really. The Primary lineage has been around the longest, so they have the strongest connections to all of our ancestors—from the good to the wicked: the Sulas to the Tempests. It goes without saying they’d be the most susceptible to going dark. Just imagine all the temptation running through their veins from the elders who royally fu—” she paused, glancing at Priscilla and clearing her throat, “fudged...up.”
We all turned back to Priscilla now. Well, everyone except Desmond. His eyes, I noticed, were back on me. Carefully observing. What he was searching for, I didn’t know. But I looked away as quickly as possible.
“She’s right,” Priscilla said. “Most of the other Primaries did themselves in long ago, giving in to the deadly temptations of dark magic and dwindling our numbers down to three.”
Quinn snorted before muttering something to herself. I was pretty sure she said soon to be two, but Priscilla, who was now gazing back down at the sleeping girl, didn’t seem to notice. She tucked the blanket in around Sula’s small and delicate looking frame.
“Like Pixie, Sula is also a natural born healer,” she continued. “However, she was paralyzed shortly after her arrival here and has been confined to the safety of this room ever since.”
My eyes widened as my gaze darted from Priscilla to the girl. She seemed so peaceful, I could have sworn she was merely sleeping. Then again, so had Ray, before… I closed my eyes briefly, my heart twisting at the thought. “What happened?”
“The stories vary,” she muttered vaguely. “What we know for certain is that, one way or another, she came into contact with a basket filled with Tempest’s enchanted roses.”