“Oh, no. Do you think he got arrested?” It was rare for street performers, even the most connected to some of the bigger off-Broadway plays to find themselves under the scrutiny of the local police force. After all, panhandling required some sort of license. Yep, Uncle Sam always had to get his cut.
“I asked down at the station. I don’t know. I mean, this guy’s costume was impeccable. It was even better than the Hollywood caliber. I even asked Tony down at the fire station if he’s been seeing things. He didn’t take me seriously, and Manny, well, he said he’d keep a lookout for all things strange and let me know.”
“You haven’t seen him again, the performer?” I asked.
We bypassed the sign toting troll for the day, standing on a painter’s bucket. Today’s sign simply read: Need money for schnapps!
I guess regular alcohol just wouldn’t do.
“No, not in at least two weeks.” She paused as if thinking about it. “To be honest, no, it was longer than that. After the Charming commercial was filmed, so many of the talent in town left. Like they all practically got roles and vanished. I wonder where the job boom is.”
Imogen and I went back decades. Unlike others, who’d grown up on the same block, she’d never ridiculed or made fun of me. We just clicked.
“I’m so happy you got back in touch,” I gushed.
“Let’s just say that something tells me it was time to reach out to you, and getting older, well, friends are good to have.”
“So, are you and Manny talking about settling down?”
“Hell no, he loves the force and the attention it gets him. I like being my independent self. I love Manny, and we’ve been together since Junior High—you remember, our eighth-grade dance.” She chuckled at that and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Love is a beautiful and often trying thing. But he’s my big palooka, and I’m not letting him go for anything. What about you? I keep hearing the murmurings from Claudine that you might have someone special?”
It wasn’t often that Claudine spilled secrets about the family to anyone, but I knew that she and Imogen also had a very cordial relationship.
“It’s too new to talk about. You know that stage.”
“Oh, the undetermined one—are we, or aren’t we? I tell you, just because we become adults doesn’t mean those childhood games are over. I swear, Manny sent me a text asking me to respond with emojis. What are we, like twelve still?”
The city overflowed with supernatural activity, if you knew where to look. There were, of course, lower beings on the totem pole turning tricks using their powers of persuasion to ease money out of unsuspecting humans’ pockets. Then, well, one could also find them as bike messengers, street cleaners, doctors, lawyers, and even CEOs.
However, after passing by the park, things had slowed down, and the pedestrian traffic moved from overflowing to barely a trickle. But still, the fact people were missing, I couldn’t let that conversation go.
“I haven’t paid attention to any of the news lately. The commercial with Charming Industries must’ve cost a great deal,” I lied. “I mean, those effects were almost realistic.”
Only a fool would believe that the damage done was all for a thirty-two second spot. From what Alistair had told me, they’d had to use a proper amount of mind manipulation to convince the populace of the legendary Hollywood magic. Thankfully most people bought it without question. Only a few conspiracy theorists posted about alien invasions online. Yet anything that mentioned Charming Industries received a takedown notice and a threat of legal repercussions.
We moved toward the studio, and I could already hear the salsa music playing when my phone rang.
“Hello?” It was Alistair. “Can you hear me on this bloody thing?”
Hmm, Alistair was still learning how to use his new phone? I turned to Imogen. “Gene, go on in. I need to take this call.”
She tossed me a smile and hurried toward the stairs. I waited until she was out of view and answered.
“New technology got you down?” I chuckled.
“Well, this bloody thing is so fragile.”
“You have to glide your fingertips over it, Alistair, and that means not being a dragon and just pushing with all of your might. I’m sure you’ve already cracked a screen or two.”
“Yes, this is my fifth one today, and I’ve been trying to call you all morning. Beau insisted.”
Alistair could be stubborn, but that was sometimes part of his charm. “Did he input all of your contacts, too? You never know when you might need to call someone, and that mind-meld thing might not work.”
“Love, the only one I need to mind-melt with on the regular is you. Oh, did that make you smile?”
I wasn’t going to reveal the truth, or how I suddenly found myself smiling like a bumpkin on a log, twirling my curly red hair with my index finger.
“Nope, no smiles here at all.” I tried so hard to deadpan, until I saw his smirk and glare in my mind. The mind connection was one that I was getting used to for sure. “Hey, I thought you and Killian were busy with Order things tonight.”
“That was the plan, but I thought I’d check and see if you might be up to meet me for a drink. You’ve been finding time all week to dance, and I was hoping to see you tonight. You still haven’t shown me your lovely city. We can go out after your class. I’ll wait for you.”
Unfortunately, I knew he wasn’t talking about my nether regions, no matter how much I was looking forward to us trying to take our relationship to the next level. It sounded like I was horny, but that wasn’t it. Yes, despite what sexual prudence, chastity, and the governing body of males who sought to regulate female sexuality, and despite being half-dead, I still often longed for toe-curling fulfillment that chocolate ice cream couldn’t quite satisfy. Okay, okay, let me get off of my soapbox.
I turned away from the entrance, hearing the soft footsteps of someone nearby. I turned, and standing across from me was an armed robber. He was covered head to toe, no skin or even eyes were visible.
“Give me your money,” he demanded, his voice muffled, a sharp knife pointed at me. The man’s aura shimmered. Magical? Why would a supernatural be attacking me? The knife’s blade glowed a light, eerie green.
“Leslie?” I could hear Alistair’s concerned voice coming through the phone in my hand.
“You heard me. All of your money, now!”
Planting my feet, I attempted to gather magic from the air, to wield it around me. Cupping my hands, I waited for the jolt of electricity to zip down my spine, into my palms until I felt that power course through me.
One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi, I counted to myself, and nothing happened.
“Did you not hear me, broad?” the man asked again.
“Uh.” It was the best I could come up with, trying to buy time as Alistair cursed on the phone. There was this surefooted confidence that rolled off of me. I’d fought monsters. Surely this measly man wouldn’t be a problem for me.
Plus, I’d practically lived here all of my life.
“Why don’t you shoo,” I countered. My bag only had my shoes in it, but that would have to be enough. “You don’t want to mess with me. Don’t you know who you’re dealing with?”
The false bravado was all I could muster as I slowly slid the bag down my arm. Quickly, I grabbed the canvas handle and swung at the mugger. He dodged it and went to stab me.
I jumped back, but not quickly enough, as the blade cut through my dress and sliced my skin.
“Aaahh,” I cried out in pain as the knife’s burning spread. It wasn’t an ordinary knife.
The man looked at the blade and then at me, and like he was in a trance of some kind, he dropped it to the ground, where it loudly clattered. Sure enough, it wasn’t normal at all, but an athame, a ceremonial knife.
The entire fight took less than thirty seconds, and the mugger downed me. He ripped my bag away, leaving me crumpled and bleeding on the entryway floor.
This was
no random attack, but again, someone was after me.
A coldness fought against the flames pulsating through my body. My teeth chattered; my vision reddened. Uncontrollably, my canines descended, and I could hear all of the heartbeats surrounding me, whetting my appetite. I only needed to take one simple nip, one bite to ease the pain in my throat.
Shit. I wasn’t prepared for anything.
Chapter 3
Alistair
Fear created mistakes, and right now, Alistair wasn’t thinking straight.
What would he do if Leslie died the final death?
Fear wasn’t rational. It didn’t listen in the best of times.
The doors to the private elevator opened on the penthouse level, where only Beau’s elites and the supernaturals of his choosing had access. “Where’s your doctor?” Alistair asked. He, Drac, and Killian raced past the waiting receptionist, who pointed to the right.
The area was a combination of sleek industrial meets white minimalism. Blood stood in striking comparison as it splotched onto the chalk-colored floors.
Surely, with all of the stuff happening in the city, this wasn’t the first time they’d had to rush someone to see the only doctor in town who should know how to treat patients of such a variety.
Leslie’s head lolled from side to side, the front of her outfit becoming more and more saturated.
“The way she’s bleeding, whatever struck her was no ordinary weapon,” Drac said.
“Did either of you see a weapon?” Alistair then asked. Her blood smelled rancid, like it had been out in the sunlight and left to rot.
They placed Leslie on the white-sheeted gurney when the automatic doors parted to reveal Sethos. He’d studied under the chief physician of the Fifth Dynasty, Nenkh-Sekhmet. Tall, lanky and with a delicate bedside manner, Alistair exhaled and tried to relax knowing that Sethos was one of the best supernatural physicians in the world.
Alistair, Drac, and Killian stepped to the side. Alistair didn’t pay attention to the blood that soiled him; instead he focused on Leslie still not regaining consciousness.
“It is not every day that the glorious sun wreaks havoc on the blood of the nightwalker,” Sethos said. He moved over to Leslie’s side, snapped on his gloves, and taking the shears, cut away the dress around her abdomen. “Mmm, I see.” His voice took on the professorial role as he expounded. Standing up straight, he turned to the men. “You see here.” He pointed at Leslie’s wound. “A simple weapon did not create this, but one that could only do a vampire harm. If she had been a simple vampire, one that could not touch the sun, she would have died twice over. But she lives.”
Alistair released the pent-up breath he didn’t realize he was holding.
“But, unfortunately, there is more. You see, there is much that humankind does not know about the vampire and its origin.”
“Spare me the lecture,” Drac said.
“Oh, even you need to hear the truth of how your kind has come to be, but even more, how your kind can go extinct. The lady here carries stardust within her, created by a weapon I have not seen since I was at court. It is said that one day, the god Ra, once met up with the son of Odin, and the two agreed that light should beget light, and infused a scepter with unmuted, pure light, which they named Stardust.”
“Do you mean Odin?” Alistair interrupted.
Sethos frowned. “You should know your father’s work, dear Alistair, as Baldr struck many deals with the gods in the regions he fought alongside man for good, including in the Ancient Kingdom. I need not lecture you on the hieroglyphics left or tell the story of your father’s arrival to the kingdom. But, I must tell you about the weapon.”
“So, this weapon will bring true death to a vampire?” Drac asked.
“It is said to do very much so.”
“And where would one find this weapon?” Killian questioned. From the way he bounced on the balls of his feet, Alistair was sure the wolf in him was ready to pounce.
“Is she dying? I can suck it out, give her my blood.” Alistair rolled up his sleeve, readying to do just that.
Sethos shook his head. “No, dear dragon. Your blood, which would usually help, would only bring imminent death. Instead, a vampire, one of age and might, must suck the venom out of her. But there is also a cost. She will no longer walk in daylight, and she will be connected to the vampire who chooses to act on her behalf.”
It would have been easier to take a kick directly in the soft spots than to hear this. All of Alistair’s fears rained down: he could keep the bond with Leslie and have her die or risk losing her to another by allowing someone to bite her, sucking out the poison that now burned through her.
“This is not something that can be done while she sleeps, dear Lord. She must be awake. Until then, you will apply this patch of herbs.”
“She’s suffering from sepsis?” Killian asked.
“Yes, a bloodstream infection.” Sethos applied a treated bandage over Leslie’s wound. It smelled like a mixture of crushed pomegranate seeds, honey, and garlic, like Sethos had taken everything he could out of the Egyptian medicine cabinet to help Leslie heal.
“Why can’t my blood work? I created her.”
“Yes, but your body does not have the antibodies to fight this form of septic shock. Unfortunately, this is out of your hands.”
This wasn’t a good enough answer for Alistair. In all of his years, there had never been even a common cold that he couldn’t deal with. His immune system was strong, and as the son of Baldr, he should have been able to practically bless anything away. Why wasn’t this something he could do?
“I will give her some corticosteroids and insulin to keep her body somewhat functioning. But for this to work, she will need intravenous fluids and antibodies to help her body.” Sethos turned to Drac. “Like from your master of the night friend here.”
His stomach gnawed at him. Something wasn’t right. Although he trusted Sethos, there was the nagging feeling that his blood would be of great help to Leslie. What was it that his grandmother warned him about? His need to fix broken circles. If his working with Drac wasn’t a part of that circle, he didn’t know what was. He glanced up and noticed the fehu rune on the amulet that hung around Drac’s neck. The rune of Freyja.
“No, he’s not doing anything,” Alistair said finally.
“Alistair, you can’t risk Leslie based on your pride. What would her family say?”
“I am her family.”
“Should you wait, you risk the venom spreading beyond repair and creating a chain reaction. I must admit, I’ve never seen one like her survive even the initial attack. There must be an ancient magic in her blood helping her, and should that bloom, this mixture of venom and magic could produce something that even you are unprepared for.”
He felt all eyes on him and didn’t give a shit about it. He was responsible for Leslie, and all that they said wasn’t helping him to understand why she’d be in danger by using him as an acceptable donor.
“This is going to go south, Alistair. You should let me help.” Drac tried to convince him.
“Let’s start the infusion now, doctor.” Alistair took a seat on the chair and waited. “We will use my blood and only my blood. She is mine.”
He had the strangest feeling that he was going to pay dearly for this decision either way. He turned to Drac and clasped his hand. “Should I be wrong, then you will do what must be done.”
Drac leveled his gaze, and they had a moment of understanding.
Fear made excuses, and it surely didn’t make sense on how to correct mistakes along the way. Sethos might know medicine, but he was going to listen to his intuition. He hated to admit it, but Leslie would need both his and Drac’s help now if he could only get out of his own way.
Chapter 4
Leslie
“Leslie, please, hold on.” I heard Imogen’s voice in distress. I tried to ignore it. Let’s be honest: it had been a hell of a night. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stay fo
cused on her.
“Yes, I have a woman who’s been attacked,” she screamed into her cellphone.
Suddenly, my head lolled to the left, and I saw what looked like Alistair and Killian rushing up the path.
“Where are you taking her?” Imogen cried.
“It’s a security matter,” Killian said. “If you come with me, my officer here can get your statement.” He led a sobbing Imogen away, only to quickly return.
“We have to get her back to the compound,” Killian said.
“Alistair?” My vision again blurred, with blackness threatening to pull me under its overwhelming wave. I blinked then to find myself picked up and swaying back and forth as a red crimson veil pulled at me.
“Shit, we’re losing her.” Panic filled Killian’s voice, and I heard the approaching sirens.
Passing through the veil, I limped forward in a thick, colored haze. It caressed my body like dewdrops. “I’m doing the right thing,” I reassured myself. “Someone needs help.”
The ground quaked under me. I wobbled forward, barefooted on shards of glass, each step producing stinging pain.
Tiptoeing ever further into the mist, I tried to summon magic to my hands. The sound of an ancient chorus rang out around me in the language of my forefathers. The mist parted to reveal a forest of dead trees. I could hear the life that was once there. The burnt forest had surely been bountiful, green, and abundant at one time. Life had once thrived here. My hands reached out to touch one of the charred trees that still stood, and it shuddered under my touch, causing the bark to break apart and flutter away like ash.
The simple cry turned into a chorus of wailing the deeper I walked into the forest of the dead, leaving a trail of blood behind me.
The deeper I went in, the louder the cries became until I reached the center, where a masked woman with cascading rainbow curls crowned by wildflowers rested on a large slab of concrete. Her eyes, overly large, appeared almost iridescent purple; her full lips were pulled into a closed, but gregarious grin.
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