by Greco, Karen
Max glanced back at me quickly. "You okay?"
I pressed on the sore spot with my hand and nodded. This one was going to leave bruise for sure, even if it was only for a few hours. Once my eyes focused in the dimly lit room, I saw Frankie at the foot of the bed. His eyes were wildly darting between me, Max and Dog, who was curled up at my feet. She cocked her head and looked at Frankie curiously.
"Jesus, Frankie. What are you doing?"
"You didn't answer your damn phone." His voice was low, almost a growl.
"It's in the other room. God, Frankie, the sun’s up. You shouldn't have left the apartment."
"While you were holed up here with your boyfriend, I was taking care of that damn banshee," he spat. "I'd rather burn in the sun than stay another minute in that building with that wailing bitch."
"Cut the crap, Frankie," I said, tossing the quilt off of me so he could see I was still fully dressed, right down to my Converse sneakers. "Does it look like I was having a wild time? Do you see the sunlight out there? You're damn lucky Bertrand didn't reverse that demon curse."
"You knew that he never reversed the curse?" Frankie seethed. "And you didn't bother telling me?"
I pushed passed him, wishing I had turned the auto-brew on the coffee pot the night before. "Aw, hell, Frankie. I just found out last night, and there was no time to tell you."
Frankie stopped me with a backhand to my face, so forceful that it pushed me through the doorway and into the hallway, where my shoulder lodged into the dry wall. Before I could yank myself out, Frankie was on me, fangs at full extension, eyes a vibrant blue.
Max launched off the bed and tried pulling Frankie off of me, but Frankie just gave him a shove that sent him flying several feet. Max landed on the bed, and his head slammed into the headboard.
"I can handle this, Max," I called out. "No need to panic. Or, you know, get mad."
Frankie was vamped out of his mind, and if Max Berserked, things could get really out of hand.
Dog, now growling and standing at the edge of the bed with her fur on edge, hesitated. She didn't want to attack Frankie. And I didn't want her to either.
"Shhhhhh. Easy, Dog. That's a good girl." I tried to soothe her. "Frankie, you need to get off me. Now."
My racing heart betrayed my calm voice. And that wasn't lost on Frankie. He pressed into me harder, moving his hands from my shoulders to around my neck. Slowly, he closed them around my throat, applying enough pressure to keep me just on this side of panic. He wasn't going to choke me. He was forcing my carotid artery to visibly pulse so he could go in for the bite.
I stared at Dog, who was balanced at the edge of the bed and ready to pounce. Mouth wide open, strings of drool stretched between her upper and lower canines. She pounced with a speed that defied her large size.
Frankie hissed when Dog's fangs sank into his left arm. Releasing my neck, he shook his arm with enough force that Dog slammed into the floor. She whimpered at the impact. Unfazed, he turned his attention back to me.
"Shit," I muttered, closing my eyes. I really didn't want to witch out on him, especially not without Casper bodysurfing me to keep everything under control. My powers were so damn erratic that I could create havoc with weather patterns all the way to South America. Area weather reporters were still talking about the twister I set off a month before. Apparently, it even snowed in Key West for a few minutes.
Just do it, I told myself, not sure exactly what I could do since I was in the house and weather happened, well...outside. Gritting my teeth, I squeezed my eyes closed and tried to clear my mind. This was not particularly easy with a raging vampire snapping at my neck.
Wind whipped outside, howling through the alleyway. My sharp hearing picked up the sounds of cans and bottles rolling violently down the sidewalk. But it wasn't strong enough to do much more.
"Shit shit shit shit!" My eyes snapped open, and Frankie was in my face, eyes glowing a vibrant blue, closing in on my neck. His hands gripped my shoulders like a vice, trapping me against the wall. I kicked up and into his groin, and while I felt the force of the impact, he barely flinched.
Movement behind Frankie caught my eye. Max snatched my aunt's Jaguar statue and threw it at Frankie. With one hand, and barely looking, Frankie caught the relic and flung it across the room. The bedroom window shattered and an ice-cold wind whipped through the room.
The force of the gusting wind knocked Frankie off balance, and he released his grip on me.
"What the hell is your problem?" I rounded on him. He held his left arm, where Dog sunk her fangs. He pulled his hand away. It was covered in blood.
Something in him shifted, and he backed away from me. "Don't touch the blood!" he cried out. "Nina, do not touch the blood!" He turned and, in one movement, leaped out the broken window. I rushed to the window, arriving just in time to see him roll on impact, regain his footing, and then disappear down the alleyway behind the building.
"What the hell was that?" Max's mouth was hanging open from the shock of the whole thing.
I stared at the blood spatter on the floor. Frankie told me not to touch it. "Oh no, Max. This is really bad."
"You don't think...?"
"He was rabid. Showed up here, all vamped out and ready to bite. Usually he needs to be provoked to get to that state."
"How the hell did he come into contact with the blood?"
"Remember the Superman Building?" My eyes filled with tears. "His leather jacket was sliced, but he swore he wasn't cut."
Max snatched me around the waist, pulling me further back from the blood. "Stay away from that, will you?"
"He swore he wasn't cut," I repeated. "This is bad. This is real bad. What the hell do we do? He's going to die."
"He's not going to die, okay?" Max said, though he didn't sound completely convinced.
"Don't feed me bullshit!" I yelled. "This blood is killing them. All of them."
"Then we are going to stop it."
"How?"
"You're a witch. You can stop it."
"I can't stop this!"
"Nina, you have no choice. If you want Frankie to live, you have to figure it out."
"What can I do?"
Max nodded. "You call Babe. You're going to need your aunt."
That was an understatement. But there was a puddle of corrupted blood between me and my cell phone in the kitchen. I stared at the brownish red mess, trying to figure out the best way around it. The wall was too close, so I couldn't jump it. Precariously balanced above the potentially killer blood, I stretched my leg over the puddle, careful not the touch the walls where some splatter hit.
"Christ, Nina," Max said. He came from behind, hoisted me in the air and dropped me on the other side of the puddle.
"Thanks," I muttered as I stumbled down the hallway to the kitchen and my phone, Max and Dog both on my heels.
I fumbled with my mobile, opening my favorites list and hitting the dial button next to Babe's name. The phone went straight into voicemail.
"Shit," I said, trying again. The outcome was the same. I don't know why I thought it would be different. I pressed the text button and started typing out a message.
Max dug his phone out as well. Based on his muted conversation, he was clearly having better luck reaching Dr. O. He paced back into the bedroom, leaving me alone in the kitchen, my panic slowly filling the empty room.
I pulled out the coffee and busied myself making a pot. After I filled the machine with water, I tried calling again. Twice. No dice on either call. Of course, there was a time difference, and the sun was barely up here. Babe was probably sleeping, clearly with the phone off.
I stared at the murky liquid filling up the carafe, my mind racing. Frankie was infected. How the hell did that happen? Beta-Vamps, sure. But Frankie? He was smarter than that. And he knew this shit was going around.
"Dammit, Frankie!" I sighed out loud, pulling two mugs out of the cabinet. Max's footsteps were thumping down the hall back to the kitchen.
I shook my head. I pulled out the coffee carafe and replaced it with a mug, repeating with the second once the first mug filled. I slid one down to him.
"Thanks." He blew on the hot liquid while I pulled half-and-half out of the fridge. "I'm meeting Dr. O in about 45 minutes."
I simply nodded. If I opened my mouth to speak, there was a good chance I would sob.
Max put his mug down on the counter and pulled me into his chest. "He'll be okay, Nina."
"I know," I lied, pushing myself away from his embrace. "We'll find him and fix him. That's what we do. We fix things."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"I can't do this!" I yelled as I threw the hot pot across the kitchen. It landed with a clatter in the living room. Dog looked up from where she was napping on the couch.
"With negative thoughts like that, you won't," Casper shot back at me. "Now come on. Go get the pot, fill it up, and boil the yam again. This is no time to quit."
I tossed a bunched up pile of paper towels on the boiling water I spilled all over the counter top, and looked sadly at the overcooked yam smashed and steaming on the floor. While I was trying to drain the yams, I missed the sink entirely. Luckily, my body avoided the scalding water but it was a narrow miss.
After a dramatic sigh of frustration, I retrieved the pot from the living room to try again. Dog rolled on her back and swiped at me with her paw as I walked by, and I gave her belly a rub. "Thanks for the moral support."
Casper was right, but I hated doing this without Babe's firm hand guiding me. Not that I didn't trust Casper, but this one needed family. It needed Babe.
"Babe's going to be pissed that you aren't saying the spell," Casper added as I retrieved the pot.
"Babe's not responding to calls or texts," I said roughly. "And I don't want to screw this spell up. So you're doing it, and she's going to have to get over it."
Babe was MIA, probably off on some vision quest. I didn't need any more drama with Frankie bugged out. I went as far as calling my grandfather's house, but the woman who answered the phone — Grandma, probably — hung up on me as soon as I asked for my aunt. Ain't family grand?
After cleaning up Frankie's blood for me, Max left to meet up with Dr. O. He promised that they both would hit the streets after to search for Frankie. I knew he was monitoring the police feeds for any possible "meth-head" reports. If Frankie vamped out, the cops would assume drugs, just like the others. But since Frankie wasn't a Beta, he was a whole lot more dangerous.
Max tied up the towels securely in a garbage bag and stuffed that in an empty five-gallon paint drum. We stored it in the bar's walk-in refrigerator for now. It was too dangerous to just throw the blood soaked towels away. But wouldn't it be just my luck if a health inspector came calling tomorrow?
So Casper and I were spelling on our own. We decided to alter a cryptic potion from one of the old family grimoires. The ancient spell was essentially a healing potion for staked vampires — and it worked not just with any stake, but a spelled stake. When witches wanted a vamp dead, they had the juice to get it done. I wondered when my family had a reason to bring a vamp back. And, considering the long-rooted anti-vamp prejudice that coursed through my witchy family tree, why would they even want to?
But we weren't dealing with a witch-tampered stake, so Casper and I needed a twist. The plan was to mix it with a potion used on heroin addicts to kick the habit. Casper helped his mom cook up the spell for a drug-addled cousin. He said it worked "like magic," which made me laugh, raising my spirits a bit. I just hoped the outcome wasn't some sort of placebo effect. The spell included yam and frying a small fish in "spiritual essence," which was some sort of spice mix that I swore was Old Bay repackaged. Eva sold single spells in packets in her shop for five bucks a pop, one hell of a mark-up for a fish spice. So while the ingredients were easy to procure, I wasn't feeling terribly optimistic about the spell working.
"You need to trust it, Nina," Casper read my mind. "If you don't believe, it ain't gonna work."
"Mind over matter?" I filled the pot back up with water and put it on the stove. Then I dropped our last yam in and turned on the burner.
"Something like that," Casper said.
I felt him concentrating. The boy's focus was impressive.
"Since we're spelling, is there something we can make for Darcy to stop the wailing?" I asked.
Casper jerked my body around, slamming my hip into the counter.
"Ow! Stop that!"
"Sorry, I just thought of something. Wondering if Babe has any rose quartz."
"For what?" I rubbed my hip. Damn ghost.
"What if we made a love potion?"
"How's a love potion going to help get Frankie back?" My heart raced a bit. What was he thinking? Would I need to fall in love with Frankie to get him back?
"Not Frankie," he huffed. "For Darcy and Matty."
"Seriously? Come on." I sparked up another burner to heat up the cast iron pan for our fish fry.
"Well, she likes Matty. He likes her. They just need a little help getting there."
"I don't know about that," I hedged. "And what about Frankie? He's our priority."
It was one thing to use a spell on Frankie to keep him alive. Totally different to use a love spell on Darcy and Matty. What if they really didn't want it? Meddling in something that had nothing to do with us felt...wrong. Besides, did I really want my best friend and spoiled celebrity cousin in love? I went from one family member to an overabundance of family in a very short time. What I needed was more distance from them, not less.
"The love spell is simple and would take five minutes, as long as everything we need is here," Casper insisted. "Think about it. With Matty crushing on Darcy, no more banshee wailing. Darcy can focus. And you need everyone focused right now, don't you?"
This was tempting. Darcy was our logistics master. Without her know-how, we'd be chasing our tails looking for Frankie.
"What about Kittie?" I still wasn't convinced. "Want to really piss off a demon?"
"Demon?" Casper snorted. "Maybe Matty will grow some balls and tell whatever she is to piss off."
"You don't believe me either?" I sniffed.
"We can't worry about her right now," Casper reasoned. "Can we do this without her?"
"What if they are terrible together?" I was running out of arguments. "Can we reverse it?"
"I've never had to reverse a love spell," Casper snickered.
"Yeah, we'll you're barely legal, so how many could you have possibly done in your very short lifetime?"
"And now I am 18 and dead. Thanks, Nina."
"Shit, sorry. I forgot." I cringed, knowing it sounded lame even as I said it. The kid died at the hands of a whack job vampire who was charging a ritual knife with witch power to make it strong enough to take me out. While it wasn't my fault he died, I certainly felt guilty as all hell about it.
"It's a little hard for me to forget about it."
"I just meant...just...sorry."
"It's cool. I like being all up in your head anyway. You've got some whacked out thoughts."
That made me smile. "So, can we reverse it if necessary?"
"Yeah, I guess. I don't see why not."
I pulled the wrapped fish out of the fridge and plopped it on the counter next to the stove. I unrolled it from the parchment paper and wrinkled my nose at the pungent smell that followed. That wasn't terribly reassuring.
"Let's do it, then," I agreed, even though I was still filled with reservations. Trade one best friend's freedom of choice to maybe save the life of my other best friend? It seemed like an easy answer, but it just wasn't sitting comfortably with me.
"Cool. We'll do it when we finish with Frankie's spell." Casper felt almost buoyant. The kid sure liked to throw weird stuff into pots. "Turn the fire down in the pan and drop the fish in. Sprinkle with the spice. Then let me take over for a second so I can do the spelling."
I did exactly as dir
ected, with the fish throwing out some serious smoke when the spiritual seasoning hit it. Guess it wasn't repurposed Old Bay after all. But, man, this fish was caustic. The apartment was going to stink for days. I opened a window to disperse the odor before I let Casper take over. He chanted a weird hybrid of Latin and Spanish. My mouth moved around the words, but I really had no idea what I — or was it Casper? — was going on about.
Casper released his hold on my body. "Now write Frankie's name on a scrap of paper and add it to the ceramic bowl with the fish, a tablespoon of sugar and the yam. And don't drop it this time. It's our last one."
"Okay," I said, picking up the measuring spoons. "Which one is the tablespoon?"
"The big one, Nina. It's the big one." His exasperation came through loud and clear.
With the tablespoon figured out, I did as directed. We finished the spell by dousing the whole thing with 90 percent isopropyl alcohol. Then we lit it on fire and watched it burn down to ash.
I poured the ash into an old pill bottle. "So now what?"
"You find him and blow it on him."
"So one of us has to get close enough to do that?"
There was a knock on the back door, and then Max opened it a crack. "Nina?"
"We're right here." I pulled the door the rest of the way to let him in.
He looked around. "We?"
"Casper."
"Right," Max said, closing the door behind him. "I still have to get used to that."
Dog came bounding into the kitchen to get a scratch behind the ears.
"What stinks in here?" Max asked, his nose wrinkling at the funky smell left by the fish.
"A spell to fix Frankie," I explained. "And now we have to find him and blow it on him."
"So one of us has to get close enough to do that?" Max echoed my words.
I puffed up a bit. "I'll do it."
"And what if he infects you?"
"So who's going to do it? You?" I shook my head. "He'll rip your head off."
"Not if I..." He cleared his throat, still unused to saying it.
"Oh hell no!" Casper's voice pierced through my head.
"I got this, Casper," I said, and then turned to Max. "If you Berserk? Max, you may be all Incredible Hulked-out, but when you are in form, but you don't have two brain cells to rub together."