Vulture’s Kiss

by E. M. Whittaker

  These girls were her responsibility. Her friends. Her family. If she did nothing, she’d lose everyone she cared about by morning. Her, Jem, Yasmine—anyone she cared about.

  She clutched the tanto with both hands and made her way toward an abandoned stairwell.

  Someone had to become their avenger.

  “Evelyn.” Hector blocked her path. “Stop. I won’t let you—”

  “Hecty, move.” She pointed her blade at him. “I won’t run like a coward from Simon any longer.”

  He didn’t budge.

  The blade almost nicked his skin.

  Black lightning came through the brick corridor.

  Hector pulled her down the stairs.

  By the time they reached the first floor, the stairway was no longer accessible. Debris caved in around them.

  Another bolt of lightning came.

  This time, the vampire upstairs cackled, sending volley after volley of dark magic after them. The frequency of her spell increased. So did her maniacal laughter.

  God, she could make windows crack at her pitch.

  They ran outside, scattering after they bolted out the door. Eerie low-pitched laughter echoed through another bloody courtyard.

  Evelyn let out a hard sigh and raised her blade.

  How many courtyards did someone need? If she gardened, she could understand, but Marianne killed everyone in her path. Even her thralls needed a little TLC. They bordered on mutated zombies. For once, someone needed to rethink their priorities, watch some horror movies, and retake classes on how to become an effective villain.

  The Blair Witch Project—a horrible low-budget movie—scared her more than Marianne did.

  She got into a battle stance, mimicking a samurai on television. She adjusted her parasol and blade until she got into an advantageous stance.

  A flash of a dark red cape materialized in front of her.

  Her sword went through it.

  Unlike Theresa’s death, their intruder materialized when the sword went through him. Her assailant grabbed the blade, pulling it from her clammy hand.

  She scooted back. Then she attacked him with her parasol.

  Hector pulled her away from Simon.

  Holy crap. His Vampiric Highness opted out of the billionaire clothes and went for the classic Transylvanian vampire outfit. The cape added to his conceited bastard vibe. The cane and top hat made his outfit beyond ridiculous. No one wore those unless they were a third-rate magician hosting a magic show for a kid’s birthday party.

  She clenched her jaw and aimed her weapon at him.

  This nightmarish game between them ended tonight.

  17

  Black lightning followed Louis the longer he dragged the muscular Latina down the drafty corridor.

  Holy Mother of Hell. His ex-wife’s powers turned dark since their separation. The witch who made homemade remedies from witchcraft books and do-it-yourself kits died the moment they signed the divorce papers. She evolved past reading tarot cards and crystal balls at fancy dinner parties. Jealousy corrupted her.

  No, correction. It consumed her.

  Vampirism had twisted and poisoned her once semi-sane soul.

  What other magic tricks did his ex-witch have in her arsenal of tricks? Would she turn them into poisonous toads? Would she steal their souls for her evil experiments? Perhaps she’d torment them with a lifetime of slavery, then auction them off to the highest bidder. At least for Jemina, anyway.

  Where did that leave him?

  Who cares? Dealing with the devil’s punishment is enough.

  For once, the dhampir agreed.

  Louis threw Jemina into one of Marianne’s private chambers, then slammed the door shut.

  He guided her toward a heavy desk sitting in the middle of the room. When she didn’t move, he nudged it toward the door, blocking out the gothic decor, the blackened walls, and the purple florescent lights around him. However, he couldn’t ignore the homemade Ouija board painted onto the floorboard.

  Spirits never liked being summoned.

  “Jem.” He turned his head to the desk. “Block the door.”

  Jemina grunted. “She’ll destroy it.”

  “Just do it.” He pulled a pocket knife out of his jeans. “I need a few minutes to prepare a spell.”

  “Screw that. Just break stuff.” She demonstrated by breaking off a desk leg. “Buffy does it whenever she fights vampires. It’ll work for us, too.”

  Jesus. You’re screwed.

  Louis nodded, hiding his laughter.

  Humans believed every stupid thing they saw on television.

  He slid his hands into his pockets, sighing in relief at his two most powerful weapons: crystal quartz and nuummite. The nuummite—or magician’s stone—allowed him to channel his spiritual energy. It also grounded him from wandering too far into the spirit realm. But the ancient stone served another important purpose.

  It would curb his vampiristic urges.

  Tch. Darius’s consciousness stretched inside Louis’s mind. You’re not playing with Native American bullshit again. She’ll annihilate you before you cast anything.

  No, she wouldn’t. He didn’t utter grandiose incantations.

  They needed Mother Earth’s magic to eradicate the insanity plaguing her soul.

  Why bother? She’s dead to you. His tone turned vicious. Technically, we’re dead, too. Vampires don’t have souls, you know.

  No. Not him.

  He remained a Daywalker with a heartbeat.

  The crystals hummed inside his pocket, warmed against his leg, and gave him their energy the longer he concentrated on his spell. He took deep calm breaths and counted to ten. Once he calmed his heartbeat, he envisioned his target: his vampiric gold-digger.

  She glided toward them.

  He had to hurry up.

  After five meditative breaths, the world turned topsy-turvy. Splashes of color popped over inanimate objects. Red hues changed to green. Turquoise. Navy blue.

  At blue, he paused. Then he released a shuddering breath.

  The room turned indigo.

  Splendid.

  His third eye opened.

  Morgan’s sage words about spiritual energy resonated within him as he inspected Marianne’s dark energy. Underneath the dark strands lied a broken, empty husk of a human body. Vampires didn’t have souls, but she combated against that with her witchy magic when they were married.

  Not anymore. Someone stole her soul.

  How did this happen?

  Her ex-husband turned her before Louis met her, but she became religious about purifying herself to keep her demons at bay. Every night around midnight, she’d have her daily ritual, but it wasn’t enough to prevent the eventual metamorphosis every vampire went through. Three years into the marriage, she swore off affection and sex. He couldn’t touch her unless he wore gloves, or she purified him with her second-rate spells.

  Louis clutched his knife until his knuckles turned white.

  This was his fault.

  He didn’t love Marianne.

  To be honest, loving her became an impossibility the longer she threw tantrums like a whiny child or turned fanatical about her spells. She turned to Satanism to cure her condition at one point.

  Still, he’d never curse someone with vampirism. Not in a million years.

  He should have ended her misery years ago.

  Most vampires never realize why they’re incapable of love or tenderness. They’re content with their army of thralls. But you know what? Love changes everyone. Including us.

  Talk about a bombshell.

  This destroyed … well, everything he learned about vampires. If he found true love, he could save Evie from Simon’s dirty tricks. Then he’d have his happily ever after with whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and a cherry on top.

  That’s right, boy. We will.

  A new sensation beat through his heart. It spread through his body slower than any act of dominance ever gave him.

  He wanted E
vie. Needed her.

  He had found true love.

  Well, there you have it. Darius’s voice rose with affection. I found love once, too. Alisha died before I could tell her, though. Don’t be like me. Tell Evie. Get your stupid fairy tale ending.

  “Jem.” The quartz pulsated in Louis’s pocket. “Come here, please.”

  “Sí, sí.” Her voice echoed. “Hurry up. She coming.”

  “I’m almost done.”

  He dragged his knife into the wooden floor and etched tribal words into a circle. Spiritual blue fire came to his hand, lighting up the words he carved into the floor.

  Louis put the magician’s stone inside the magical circle.

  This would do.

  “Here.” He thrust his ritual knife into her hand. “Drive it into her heart.”

  Jemina took it. “You’re supposed to use stakes, you know.”

  “Hollywood glorifies stakes.” He kept his hands hovered over the circle. “There are other ways to kill vampires.”

  She got into a defensive stance. “I guess.”

  God, humans needed everything explained to them.

  No wonder they turned into vampire food.

  The door exploded into tiny pieces. Specks of the wooden door stopped short of Jemina’s feet.

  She charged after Marianne.

  The entire floor shook.

  Louis’s hands trembled, but he held his hands over the circle. He couldn’t let the spiritual energy dissipate. Once it did, she’d overpower them.

  Black fire came to Marianne’s hand and she thrust it toward him.

  Jemina slid the blade into the vampiress’s heart.

  Louis slammed his hands against the circle. He borrowed energy from his darker side and amplified the spell until sweat beaded on his forehead.

  Marianne’s banshee-like screams turned into guttural wails. Then she disintegrated to ashes.

  A gigantic weight lifted from his chest.

  “Farewell, Marianne.” He kissed two of his fingers. “Rest in peace with Mother Earth.”

  “Mierda.” Jemina picked up his knife. “A vampire with holy powers.”

  “Half-vampire.” He held his hand out. “Knife, please.”

  She dropped it in his hand. “How did you do that?”

  “Shaman magic.” Louis grabbed his stones and shoved them into his pockets. “The perks of being born as a Native American.”

  “Damn.” She peeked her head outside the door. “I’m no magician.”

  “Like stakes, they’re overrated.” He rose. “You made the floor shake.”

  “I’m a hippopotamus.” Jemina waved him toward the door. “No pun intended.”

  Good grief. She must eat a lot, too.

  Dark shadows flickered by the window. Their form warbled before it reformed into a solid figure.

  Once they appeared, Louis rushed to the window, clutching the ledge until his fingers hurt.

  Simon had found Evie and Hector.

  Lord help him. His ex-stepson gave off the cheesy villain vibe. Real vampires didn’t wear outdated Transylvanian outfits. Grandpa Munster dressed better than this misfit and Louis couldn’t stand the Munsters.

  Hell, Count Chocola could give him pointers. At least his artist made him somewhat comical and menacing at the same time.

  True vampires are a dying breed. Darius flooded his host’s body with dark energy. Let’s hurry. Evie cannot overpower him alone in her condition.

  “Oh, shit.” Jemina hurried over and tugged on his arm. “We should—whoa. Someone dress for trick-or-treat early.”

  Louis gritted his teeth. “He’s got a flair for theatrics.”

  “I wish I brought old Halloween candy.” She dragged him to the door. “Joking aside, we better hurry.”

  He pulled her close. “Hold on to me. We’re going out the window.”

  Jemina tugged on his shirt. “¿Que?”

  “Just hold on. I’ll get us down there faster.”

  Louis wrapped his arms around her while Darius glided toward the window. Then they jumped, landing in some shrubbery.

  He placed her on the ground before gliding over to their destination.

  They’d save Evie yet.

  * * *

  “Evelyn. You look lovely, my dear.”

  Evelyn held her stance and kept her tanto pointed at Simon, tapping her foot against the asphalt. Goddammit. When would he learn flattery got him nowhere? He chased her around a freaking mansion while she was running on fumes for Christ’s sake. Not to mention killing her coworkers. She’d never forgive him for that.

  Stupid vampire.

  He’d never learn from his mistakes.

  Simon never changed after they broke up. He resorted to his manipulative ways whenever they met. During dates. At parties. In the courthouse. Even in this sorry state. In retrospect, she fooled herself into believing he would leave her alone after she dated Louis.

  She should have known better.

  “Simon.” She jutted her chin while clenching her teeth. “I’ll enjoy this little showdown, punk. You attacked my girls. You promised to leave them alone after we ended our weird relationship. Yet you broke your word and ate them.”

  She locked her near wobbly legs in place.

  “This ends tonight, vampire.”

  “I never attacked those girls. My mother did.” He nudged his head toward the ruined, bloodstained entrance. “She’s irate at your boyfriend. Even drinking a virgin’s blood hasn’t calmed her down. A shame. She resisted her primal nature for so long, too.”

  Holy shit. He had some nerve.

  She made the sign of the cross.

  “So, let me get this straight.” Evelyn scooted back a step. “You sent a woman to fight your battles for you.”

  “Ah, no.” Simon sneered. “Your man married her. She still loved him. Her cursed love became a powerful weapon to manipulate her. Eventually, she succumbed to her primal instincts and embraced her true nature … with a little help from me, of course.”

  How cruel. He turned her life into a twisted fairy tale.

  “Louis never loved her, but she’s too stupid to comprehend that. He’s too fixated on you.” Simon floated closer to her. “That’ll change once I marry you. He won’t want spoiled goods after I devour your blood.”

  Hector growled from beside her. “Psycho.”

  Her sentiments exactly. No one would drink her blood again.

  She slashed the tanto blade across his chest.

  He faded away, then disappeared.

  His laughter reverberated through the courtyard.

  Evelyn skittered back, spinning around every few seconds. Dammit. She couldn’t fight an invisible foe.

  Where did he go? Into the mansion?

  No. He lingered around here somewhere.

  Heavy footsteps came from behind her.

  She pivoted and almost lost her balance.

  Hector held her shoulders. “Wait. He can’t hide forever.”

  “How delicious.” Simon’s distorted voice echoed in her ears. “You’re still weakened from Mother’s drink earlier. Here. I’ll make this easier for you, dear.”

  Hector yanked on her dress. “Stay here. Louis and Jem just arrived. We’ll finish Mr. Creepo and return to Louie’s mansion. Okay?”

  Evelyn nodded. They were all right.

  Now, she could concentrate on Simon.

  “It’s good to see you, Louis.” Simon clapped at a harsh pitch. “Oh, look … you have that deplorable harlot with you, too. Looks like you’ve assembled the entire asshole brigade against me, darling.”

  Sure. Underground Avengers. Whatever.

  Where were Jemina’s Paw Patrol when she needed them?

  “Evie.” Louis stood by the ruined entrance. “I can’t get to you. He’s blocked off the entire courtyard with a spell. Just hold on. We’ll get it down.”

  “It gets better.” Simon’s voice rose a pitch. “Wait till you see my next magic trick.”

  Evelyn gasped. Not
another dark magic spell.

  Simon’s powers grew the longer he stayed a vampire. At one point in their weird relationship, he had another magician stay with him and he taught him about illusion magic. Simon gravitated to it immediately, despite her objections. Within days, he learned everything the magician knew, then hit up the local magic community for more material. Once he mastered it, he used Evelyn for target practice.

  When the world turned into a black void, she shivered.

  She never mastered escaping his twisted illusions.

  How could she? Her world never involved magical obstacles until she met these vampires. The biggest challenge she faced previously comprised of dealing with catty bitches and Alpha asshole shifters like Hector. Magical battles were out of her element. Out of her and Jemina’s element.

  The darkness spread.

  Shit. Everyone disappeared.

  She straightened her arm and clenched her weapon—the only solid item inside her new reality. Something whooshed beside her.

  Evelyn slashed at the darkness.

  Where was he? That was him, right?

  Right. Who else would attack her in this false reality?

  An eerie ruby light reflected off her blade. Its soft hue invited her to come closer.

  Jesus. Hypnosis again?

  Vampires relied on such cheap trickery.

  “Evelyn.” Simon’s gritty voice pierced through her skull. “We don’t need this animosity between us, dear. Just accept your destiny as my undead bride and I’ll annihilate these unwanted guests from our home.”

  She readied her blade. “No. You caused this.”

  “Oh, I’m not responsible for this mess.” He materialized in front of her and undid his cape. “You dated Louis, dear. Now, end this charade. Come with me. Otherwise, your girls—including your boorish cousin—will meet a nasty death.”

  No. He lied.

  They killed Theresa and Erica.

  Evelyn tightened her lips and punched him.

  Somehow, she knocked him onto the ground. She panted from the effort. Once he landed on the hard bricks, she punched him again.

  Each punch fed her adrenaline rush and her bottomless rage.

  His bottom lip split. Then he ripped her weapon away from her.

  Jesus, Joseph, and Mary. Not this again.