The Blackwater Legacy (The Bloodlines Legacy Series Book 2)

by Apryl Baker

  Unless it’s Aleric, my mind teases me. Then we might consider it.

  My face flames at the wayward thought. Where the hell did that come from?

  “Silly girl.” She shakes her head, the amusement more than apparent on her face. “We don’t physically taste the dead. It’s part of what makes us necromancers. The gift we’ve been given allows us to taste their essence, roll it around on our tongues like a fine wine. Our gift will automatically give us the answer. We’ll simply know. It gives us an advantage when dealing with vampires. The older a vampire is, the harder they are to control. Their own powers strengthen with age, as does our own. If we know how much power we are dealing with, then we know how far we have to go to gain control of them.”

  “But didn’t you tell me earlier our gifts were the strongest when they first awake?”

  Madame nods. “Oui, I did say that. Let me explain. Our gifts are out of control, wild, and demanding attention when they claw their way to the surface. It is our lack of control that makes them so strong. As we learn, we begin to harness our gifts. They are less wild, more controllable. With control, we can often lose the punch the wildness brings. We are still strong, and we grow stronger the more we harness our power, but there is nothing more powerful than wild, uncontrollable magic. Does that make sense, chere?”

  Oddly, it does. Wild, out of control anything is always stronger than the controlled punch. Time for another question. “Back to vampires. Why would we want to control them? I’d think they’re best left to their own devices if they have even a tenth of the abilities books and movies give them.”

  “Vampires are a thousand times more powerful than the written word portrays them. Why do we want to control them? It’s what we do, child, and why they fear us so. Being able to know their age could very well save your life one day. The older they are, the more likely they are to control you instead of the other way around. Never look a vampire in the eyes. As old and strong as I am, even I know better than that. I won’t do it with my boys either. I’m not stupid.”

  Thinking of Kristoff and his skeezy gaze, I might almost agree with her. Being able to stop him from getting near me is probably a good idea.

  She brings my attention back to the ointment she’s holding. I can see it’s glowing, almost like that glow-in-the-dark goop we used to buy when we were kids. Specks of green float in the substance and light up like fireflies. What in the world could cause that?

  “We each have our own recipes that work best for us.” Madame dips her fingers in it and smooths it over my cheeks.

  It’s cold, but not icky. It smells of mint today. Last night it was nasty.

  She laughs, judging my confusion. “Last night you were just waking up, ma chere. Today you are a necromancer, and the smell of death is as heavenly to you as the smell of rich warm chocolate. Or in this case, mint. It’s what I use in my ointment. The base ingredients are all the same—various types of herbs like cinnamon and thyme, but the base must always be the mold pulled from the decaying corpse of the dead. The more decayed, the better.”

  “Why?” That is beyond gross. She really expects me to go grave digging to collect the slimy crap on a corpse? Um…just no.

  “With age comes power, in all forms. The older something is, the more it knows, the more it’s learned. Think of a child of five. Would that child have the same knowledge a fifty-year-old would?”

  “No, but I think I understand.” When I wrap my head around that particular analogy, it makes sense. “It’s like wine. An aged wine tastes so much better than one freshly corked.”

  “Very good, ma cherie!” Madame beams at me. “You are such a treasure!”

  She keeps saying that, and even though she’s being nice and almost motherly, I still get the feeling she’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Like she’s waiting for me to ripen and then strike. I feel bad for thinking like that because she is being so kind, and my parents hammered manners into me like no one’s business.

  “We will start building your own ointment tonight when you awake.” Madame puts the jar back on its shelf and turns to me, excitement warring with a predatory gleam in her eyes. “Let’s begin your training.”

  And that training begins with Grace. I take a deep breath to steady my nerves, repeating over and over that Grace can’t feel a thing. No matter what happens, I can’t hurt her.

  “Remember last night when you found that source of magic inside? I want you to find it again and reach out toward Grace with it. Let it wrap around her and close your eyes. Let your magic tell you everything you need to know about the death in front of you.”

  When I hesitate, Madame gives my shoulder a little squeeze and pushes me forward, toward Grace. “It’s okay, Saidie. She can’t feel a thing, I promise. You need to learn, and it’s better to do it on a creature that feels no pain than on one that does. We don’t cause more harm than we must until we mean to do harm.”

  Luka’s hate-filled eyes swim up, and I almost drown in their censure. He is emphatic that I’ll be evil. He doesn’t want me anywhere near Alex. If he could kill me without her finding out, I’m almost certain he would. Aleric’s hatred of me goes deeper. Luka only knows stories, but Aleric has lived the story. I will forever be the villain in his story even if I never so much as blink in his direction.

  Is learning to control it so bad, though? Even if it means my best friend’s boyfriend will despise me until the day we both die? I can live with his anger, but I can’t live with causing anyone else in my family pain. Which means no more embarrassment. My mom won’t have to worry about waking up to any more deceased neighborhood pets when I spend the night. Hell, I’d hate to know what kind of critter might crawl out of the woods behind the student housing complex Alex and I live in. Don’t think even I can explain that to the twenty-some-odd apartments in the building.

  No, it’s best to learn what I need to learn.

  I close my eyes and search for it. I find it with very little effort, like now that it’s woken up once, it’s eager to come out and play. That beautiful bluish white light bathes me in its joy, its warmth. That’s what it feels like to me. Not an ugly curse. No, it’s more of a blessing, even though I know the terrible things this ability is capable of.

  How to make it do what I want, though? I feel it. It’s right there, waiting for me to do something. I concentrate on the spot where I know Grace is standing, directly in front of me, and think to myself, how old is she?

  I get nothing. Frustrated, I tug on my bottom lip, as is my habit. Madame said I needed to let my gift wrap around Grace, but how to get it from inside me to her? This is harder than in the cemetery. That came as naturally to me as breathing, but this is like pulling teeth.

  Frowning, I concentrate harder, trying to force the light forward, but again, nothing. What am I doing wrong? What would Bree do? She’s been going on and on about how to harness magic since I met her, and now the cat’s out of the bag about witches being real, you can’t shut her up. She must have said something about this kind of thing. Think, Saidie, think.

  Waterfalls. That’s it. We were sitting on the couch one day, and she started trying to explain to Alex’s brother, Jason, how to cast a spell that required more than potions. She told him to gather his power then imagine the power pouring down like a waterfall cascading over a cliff. Only the pool at the bottom would be the target. His body would be the cliff. Bree said to imagine the power rolling down your limbs until it hit your fingertips and then falling until it hit the pool, or the target of his spell.

  It should work for this…maybe.

  I do as she said, harnessing the light and pooling it before I let it flow outward, across my shoulders, down my arms until it hits my fingertips. The tingle in them tickles at first, but soon begins to burn like I’ve doused them in a vat of burning acid. It needs an outlet. I think of the pool beneath the waterfall, replacing the image with one of Grace. My fingers cramp, and then I feel it. The buzz leaves my body, flows outward through my fingertips and rig
ht into Grace with all the force of a semi barreling at her.

  Gasping, my eyes shoot open and I see Grace stagger, but she doesn’t say anything. Her eyes remain downcast. She looks like she’s waiting, but for what?

  For me. She’s waiting for me to tell her what to do, I realize. My bluish white light hasn’t just wrapped around her, it’s seeped into her skin. I take a deep breath, imagining what flavor of ice cream she might taste like, and it hits me, rolls over my tongue like warm hot chocolate. Her flavor isn’t necessarily old, like vintage wine, but more like fruitcake. Odd, but that’s what she reminds me of. The nasty fruitcake my Gran used to insist we make. But there’s a moldy texture to her flavor. Less than ten years old, but more than one. I roll her taste around in my mouth, ferreting out the different layers of textures and her age keeps lessening.

  “Five years!”

  The number pops into my head and I shout it, my lungs heaving with the effort.

  Madame claps her hand, tickled. “Oh, ma cherie! You are marvelous, le magnifique!”

  Sweat beads roll down my face and I swipe them away, feeling tired. I must have really been working to drench my forehead.

  “Just under an hour.” Madame hugs me then kisses both my cheeks. “An hour, ma chere! Do you know how special that is?”

  “Uh, no?”

  “It takes most initiates days, days to do what you just did. They continually ask how, for me to help them, when in fact I can’t help them. It’s something they have to do for themselves. Not once did you ask me how, you simply did it. And in an hour!”

  You’d think she’d just won the Powerball or something the way she’s all but dancing on the spot.

  “I want to try one more thing, ma chere, before I let you get some rest after working so hard. I want you to call Grace to you. She’s animated by my magic, but your magic has sunk its hooks into her, which means she will listen to you. All you have to do is command her.”

  I peek at Grace over Madame’s shoulder. Her eyes are downcast, but I can still see my power surrounding her. It’s like I have double vision. I can see her and the outline of my necromancy dancing across her flesh.

  “Just try, child.” Madame moves so there is no distraction between me and the object of my lesson.

  “Grace.”

  She doesn’t even so much as twitch.

  “Grace.” I make my voice louder, and still nothing. Why won’t she listen to me? I can see my light caressing her flesh, almost shielding it.

  Another of Bree’s lessons flitters through my head. There is power in your voice only if you mean it. You have to speak and know your commands will be obeyed. She’d used her own specific Voice on Jason and made him jump around like a bunny, much to his irritation.

  When I speak again, I know I will be obeyed. I look directly at her. “Grace.”

  Her head pops up, her eyes fixated on me. They are vacant, waiting to be filled with a purpose. Whatever this is, it’s not the person who used to be Grace. More of an echo of her. I know this without having to be told. She still retains some of her memories, echoes themselves, but her soul has fled her body. Thank God for that much, at least.

  “Come. Here.”

  She moves, shuffling at first, my magic fighting against Madame’s, warring for control. I reach out and strengthen my hold on her, wrapping the vines tighter, and pull her toward me. Her feet stop their weird shuffle and she walks, coming to a stop barely an inch from me.

  Madame squeals. I kid you not, she squeals like a little girl on her birthday who’s just been given the Barbie Mansion big enough to hold every Barbie she owns and then some.

  “I am so proud of you, Saidie Blackwater!” Madame smiles broadly, her eyes shining with happiness.

  “Thank you?”

  “Now comes the hardest part.” Madame moves to stand behind me. “You must pull your magic out of her. This is something I have always had to help my initiates with. It can be quite painful. I want you to try first, and if you can’t do it, then I will sever it for you.”

  “Sever it for me?”

  “Yes, I will tap into your magic using my own, and together we will pull you free of the dead.”

  She can do that? Then why the hell didn’t she help me push my magic outward?

  Madame chuckles at my stiff back. “Child, we must all learn to get our magic to come out. That is a feat no one can teach us. Once it’s out there, your teacher can help you control it, but you must be the one to coax it out.”

  That makes sense, I guess. Okay, so how to get it to snap back? The waterfall thing is not going to work, but what will? Rewind…oh, those self-rewinding vacuum cords! Emma, Alex’s stepmom, bought me and Bree one the same day she brought Alex and Jason’s over. I am the laziest housecleaner around, and that thing made me giddy. Hit the button, and boom, it snakes right back into place.

  I look at the blue light pulsing in Grace and think of pushing my vacuum button and seeing the cord snap back. I let out a small scream when it does exactly that. It snaps backward into me with the force of a hurricane, and it freaking hurts! It feels like I got stoned or something. It hurts so much I fall, banging my knees against the floor.

  “Easy, chere,” she soothes, stroking my hair. “What did you think of?”

  I explain the vacuum cord, and she laughs. “Not the best analogy, but it worked. Can you stand?”

  Sure, why not? It’s not like I just got zapped by something akin to lightning. When I try to stand, I can’t. It feels like all the energy has flown from my limbs. I am that tired.

  “Shh, my child. Let me collect Aleric. I will have him watch over you as you sleep.”

  “Aleric? Isn’t he sleeping? Daylight and all that?”

  “Aleric is a curious beast. He may be a vampire, but he does not need to sleep during the day like his brothers.”

  “Will he burst into flames if he gets near sunlight?”

  “Not exactly.” Her eyes harden at the thought. “The sun will burn his skin, much in the same fashion as throwing a person into an incinerator alive. It is severely unpleasant for any vampire to meet the sun.”

  Well, maybe some stereotypes aren’t so stereotypical. Good to know Twilight didn’t get it right, and vampires can go poof in the sun. Sparkly vampires. Now that I’ve met some real live vampires, I will never be able to watch my favorite movie series and see the Cullens in the same light. I’ve been ruined. Dammit!

  Madame is only gone a few moments before I hear them return. I can taste him. His flavor hits my tongue without me even trying. He tastes like my favorite hazelnut coffee. It wraps around me about the same time his arms do, and my head falls forward. How did I get this tired this fast?

  I’m falling asleep surrounded by the warm, spicy taste of coffee and the scent of a cold winter’s night that is all Aleric.

  Chapter Seven

  The first thing I see is Aleric standing by the window, looking out over the gardens. His profile isn’t stiff or angry. He looks relaxed, his face wistful. I wonder if he’s remembering the feel of the sun on his face. Does he miss it? Maybe he enjoys being a creature of the night. I snort at the clichéd term, and his head snaps around, those eyes of his pinning me to the bed. Gone is the wistful look, replaced by a mask that screams violent contempt.

  “Good morning.” I try to sit up, but when the room spins, my head hits the pillow just as fast. Well, now, that was unexpected. Is using this cursed gift going to do that every time? I hope to God not.

  “Best no’ move, ma fille.” His voice skates across my skin, and I can’t suppress the shudder. His voice. Dear God, it’s better than chocolate.

  If I open my eyes, I have a feeling I’m going to lose my breakfast all over my bed. Not something I want Aleric to see.

  “Is it always like this?”

  “No.” He moves closer to the bed. “It will ge’ easier.”

  Did he just say get easier? His accent is very thick this morning.

  “How long have I been asleep?”
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  “Few hours.”

  Man of few words. We don’t say anything for a while, and I, never being one to stand silence, decide to pry. “Where are you from, Aleric?” Even as thick as his accent is, I still catch a glimpse of something else. “Doan mat’er.” The bed dips and he’s sitting beside me. He’s so close I should be able to feel his body temperature, but there’s no heat coming from him at all. Vampire, I remind myself. They aren’t warm-blooded creatures.

  Wait…the hottest guy I have ever met, vampire or not, is sitting on my bed. My heart starts to beat so fast I can hear it pounding in my ears. Why is he sitting on my bed? Doesn’t he realize he’s in the puke zone? Oh, damn, can he hear my heart going on its own The Fast and The Furious race? Vampires have super sharp hearing. Dammit, I bet he can hear it.

  Something close to a laugh escapes the man.

  Dammit, I knew he could hear it.

  “Easy, ma petite sorcière de mort.” A wet cloth is wiped over my brow and his scent hits me. Winter. That’s what I thought before I passed out earlier. He smells like winter. And hazelnut.

  “What does that even mean?” I stifle a groan when he slides the washcloth along my cheek and down my neck.

  “Means my little death witch.”

  He’s calling me a death witch? No. “How about you call me Saidie?”

  “Why wou’ I do dat?” Another slow slide of the cloth across my chest and up the other side of my neck. Torture. I swear I must have done something to really piss off fate to stick me here in a room with a man who hates me but I am beyond attracted to.

  “Because it’s my name.” The last word sounds more like a squeak. Yup, I just squeaked. Shoot me now.

  He leans down and I get a hint of sandalwood. “You be blushin’, ma fille.”

  Oh, damn. If I open my eyes, I know I will be met with a pair of mocking green ones. Eyes that will make me even more embarrassed.

  “I think I’m good, Aleric. You should be able to go back to your room.” The whispered words laugh at me as I silently beg for him not to go.