Twisted Potions (Hidden Blood Book 2)

by Al K. Line

  She slid to a halt beside us and morphed back into human form, her beautiful, milk chocolate skin glistened with sweat. Her chest heaved in a way both Dancer and I found mesmerizing.

  "Man, you really lucked out getting her for a girlfriend," I said, unable to look away as sweat dripped between luscious breasts.

  "I know," he said breathlessly.

  "Damn straight," said Persimmon from her position on all fours.

  We looked up as the screams and cries suddenly cut off, and as Persimmon stood, unabashed and perfectly at ease with her nakedness, the throng of ghouls formed a solid wall and stepped away from the carnage.

  It didn't take the surviving wizards long to appreciate the gesture, and they retreated up the hillside until they amassed all along the rise.

  Down below, a tall figure clad in a very flappy cloak with hair ignoring the wind, swathed in magic that swirled and glistened with foul oil of the dead, walked between his children as they dropped to their knees. He touched their heads, their shoulders, their faces, as he moved through the filthy, ragged crowd, talking quietly to them so they stilled and the bloodlust abated, at least for now.

  "I want in," shouted the Chemist who was now an Elder, creator of ghouls.

  "There's not a lot stopping you," said Dancer. "Somebody broke the bloody door off." He scowled at me.

  "Hey, I was kinda pissed." I said, feeling guilty now the anger had dissipated.

  "Not in there," said the Chemist. "I want my own Ward, to be a recognized Head, and to be a part of the UK Council. It's that or the alternative."

  "I don't take well to threats," said Dancer, holding his composure.

  "How about promises? One day, then we take what you won't give us." The Chemist whirled dramatically, putting me to shame, and his ghouls followed along behind, snatching handfuls of flesh as they scrabbled amongst the bodies.

  As they walked away, they sank into the bloodstained, scorched earth, until they were little but moving heads and shoulders in a cloud of flies and insects. Then they were gone, their foul insects with them.

  "Well, that went quite well," I said as I turned to Dancer.

  "Shut up," he snapped.

  I did.

  Angry Head

  "This is all your fault," growled Dancer, so pale and angry he looked worse than most of the corpses he'd risen from the grave.

  "That's not fair," I protested. "They tried to kill me, us, and how was I to know the Chemist would show up? Be fair. Plus, the wizards attacked first. He came to talk."

  "You could have let me handle it. I'm the damn Head, it's my job. No, you had to get all nutty and call everyone here, now look what's happened. You know what wizards get like when they're worked up, especially in a crowd."

  He was right, things were bad. Very bad.

  Once everyone had calmed down and the bodies had been counted and the wounded taken inside, there were one hundred and seventeen dead wizards, thirty-nine with injuries ranging from severe to just bits of nose or ear missing, and one very dead traitor although I'm not counting him as he doesn't even deserve to be a number.

  To say Dancer was annoyed is like saying dwarves can take or leave gold. With HQ brimming with bodies both warm and cold, and people gathering from all parts of the city, plus plenty of gloaters outside the gates, I stepped out into the frigid air and let it scour away some of the guilt.

  This wasn't my fault, was it? I couldn't help what I was, what I could do. I knew many wizards resented my powers, especially because I was a vampire, but the vitriol and downright hostility from my attacker—and I was sure there were more of them out there—and some of the crowd, could make a gal seriously doubt herself. I was close to understanding how the Chemist felt.

  I wouldn't let them win. I'd been through this a thousand and one times already, sunk into a funk as I wondered about my right to live, my right to be a mother, and I'd be damned if I'd let anyone, or anything, make me feel bad about myself again. Yes, the child had an uphill battle to face, but he would also be a wondrous boy, something special. Not because of the power he would undoubtedly have, or because he was to be something never seen before in this world, but because he was mine and Faz's, born of love. That's all you can give when it comes down to it, isn't it? Love.

  "But you sure are making my tummy hurt," I whispered to the little fellow. He squirmed as if he heard me, then settled down to sleep. A boy needs his rest when he's growing at this rate.

  "Eh, what was that?" asked Dancer as he came and stood beside me.

  "Oh, nothing. Just talking to the little monkey." I rubbed my belly and nodded at the impressive lump.

  "Ah, right. Sure is growing fast, isn't he?" Dancer smiled weakly but I sensed his unease and it was understandable. This was a shock to everyone, and although I knew the supernatural grapevine would have spread the news far and wide, seeing the size of me brought home how unique a situation this was.

  "He is."

  "All right, love, here's a little snack for you," said the rosy-cheeked, plump chef as she waddled over with a tray laden with burgers and fries. Three portions of each.

  "Oh, wow, thank you so much. I'm famished."

  She handed the tray over and smiled. Her gray hair pinned into a tight bun wobbled like a curled up squirrel ready to leap off and go explore. "Eating for two now," she said, then nodded at me and Dancer before heading back inside.

  "Thought you'd need some food after that display, and what with him growing so fast." Dancer moved to the bank and sat, then patted the scorched and bloodied earth beside him.

  I took him up on his offer and joined him. For five minutes neither of us spoke as I worked my way through the food. The child in my belly wriggled and my skin stretched taut.

  "You know you have to see this through to the end, right?" Dancer stared at me hard, telling me that although he understood my condition, this was on me and I had to finish what I'd started. Baby or no baby.

  "I know. Don't worry, I'll put an end to this. So help me, today will be the last day the Chemist disturbs all our peace."

  "He cannot be part of the Council, it doesn't work like that. Ghouls have their representatives, the original Elders. They speak for all ghouls. This new breed, the Chemist's children, they are too new to be classified as a Hidden species, and I don't even know if they'll survive."

  "I understand."

  "I don't think you do, Kate. Whatever he's done, however he did it, we have no way of knowing how long it will last. And we certainly don't know what kind of being he will become over time. And," he added, his face darkening, "I do not take kindly to ultimatums. He doesn't get to make the decisions, to tell me or the Council what do. You understand now? You understand what I'm telling you?"

  "Sure," I said with a sigh. "Stop him by any means necessary or the full weight of the Council will deal with him their way. I get it."

  "Good. Now get cleaned up then do your job." Dancer left me alone on the bank.

  I longed to be a normal woman who could curl up on the sofa and watch TV, maybe get my feet rubbed. Instead I did as I was told.

  We all answer to someone. Even if it's only our own sense of duty and responsibility. Um, plus Dancer is scary when he's in one of his moods.

  A Lightbulb Moment

  Bugger it, I would not sit and feel sorry for myself, question my own sense of worth. Why should I? Like anyone was perfect, like everyone always did the right thing. I had a right to live, or whatever it was us vampires did, and I had a right to a future.

  Why should I curl up and die because some twisted freak sucked the blood out of me and infected me with the virus? Sure, I chose life back then and I chose to kill, but you can't tell me many others wouldn't make the same choice.

  I battled every single day of my goddamn life to remain human and I could choose to bring a child into this world and make it a better, more wondrous place. And the Chemist was messing with my future, all of our futures. I had to do this. I had to do it for me, for Faz, for Mithnite
, even for Dancer and Persimmon. But mostly I had to do it for my son.

  He had to know that Mommy was there to protect him, that she was in control and was setting a good example. So, I'd kill whoever stood in my way. Yeah, I understand the irony, it wasn't lost on me.

  Still, Mommy has to do what Mommy has to do.

  And I knew exactly what that was.

  So Long, and Thanks for all the Hugs

  "And you're a hundred percent sure that his will wor—"

  "Of course I am," snapped Grandma, doing that weird and freaky thing she does sometimes, craning her neck forward like a wrinkly turtle as she squinted at me as though she could look into my very soul and see all that was wrong with me.

  "What? Stop it, you're freaking me out." I put my hands over my eyes like a child playing hide and seek. If I can't see you, you can't see me.

  "What happened?" she asked, voice soft and full of love.

  "I told you, the Chemist went nuts and killed loads of wizards. Although, it was their own fault because they attacked first. He wanted to talk. And I may have gone wild with the magic."

  "That's not what I mean at all," she said, dismissing it as if it was nothing but a mishap, like I'd broken a cheap mug or something.

  My heart skipped a beat then raced, my stomach stabbed sharp pains, and the baby grew what felt like another foot in a second. "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "I've seen Faz do some stupid things, and I've seen him do some incredible things. And the same for endless other human Hidden. But what you did, and I'm not judging, only comes from a certain place inside. To wield power like that you have to draw on a darkness within. So, what happened?"

  "I told you, I got angry about them burning the house and trying to kill us. I don't know how I did it."

  Grandma pulled her front door closed, removed my hand from the door frame, and took my hands in hers. As we stood there in her dated hallway, now part of the living room, with the swirly patterned carpet and the strange wood chip wallpaper, the warm glow of the now retro and stylish orange ceiling light shade making it feel as cozy as an oven, I slumped to the floor and I cried.

  "What's going on?" asked Mithnite as he came out into the hall. He looked awful, which made me feel worse. Faz shouted from the kitchen, asking if everything was okay.

  "Go away, and close the door," ordered Grandma.

  Mithnite obeyed like she'd used Voice.

  I don't know when I last cried like that, maybe never. But this was Grandma and she sees things, knows things that nobody else can. It's her gift and her curse. Her family's too, as there's no hiding from this magnificent woman.

  Finally I stopped, and Grandma released me and scooted back on her deceptively agile legs, her housecoat soaked through with my tears and her own.

  "What happened?" she asked again.

  "My life hasn't all been great. There was a man, a terrible man, but that's done with and I won't let him ruin me by even thinking about him. But before that, when I was younger, when I was still at home, things happened."

  "You don't have to tell me." Grandma tutted and she looked deep into my eyes; there was no need for words.

  "Our home burned down. I had a brother, a little baby brother. He wasn't planned or anything, God knows my parents didn't want another child. They didn't even want me."

  "Don't say that, I'm sure they loved you."

  "No, they didn't," I said, resolute, and she didn't argue.

  "He was only a baby. I was a kid still, a teenager, but I loved him so much. I looked after him, I talked to him and he'd listen and smile and make these cute gurgling noises. Then he died."

  "How?" Grandma's eyes welled up but I was all cried out.

  "There was a fire, just like today, except it wasn't anyone out to get us. My parents did it. Oh, it was an accident, but one born of neglect. People were over, same as always, strangers, nasty people. I guess one of them had come upstairs, maybe gone into the baby's room instead of mine. Because he wanted to…. Anyway, the house burned down. The guy had fallen asleep in the baby's room, they think it was probably a cigarette. I got out, so did everyone else, but Timothy, he didn't stand a chance."

  I got up, brushed myself down, and I helped Grandma to her feet.

  "I'm sorry, I never knew. Have you told Faz?"

  "No, and you aren't to either. I'm broken Grandma, I always have been. The things that happened, they…"

  "Hush, it's all right. You've got us now, and we love you."

  "I know. And I love you."

  "Be safe. Be careful. And you," she bent and spoke directly to my belly, "you look after your mother."

  The baby wriggled. I patted my coat pocket where I'd stashed what Grandma had given me and said, "Thanks. Say goodbye to the guys for me, I don't think I can say it again today."

  Grandma nodded. I left.

  What Now?

  Some things are of this world, some things are not. Some things, some places, are neither one place nor the other. Some places are here but not here, part of the material world yet so steeped in magic, or the supernatural, that they are both things at the same time.

  Kind of like me.

  Broken. Or maybe just different.

  I knew where the Chemist was, I knew where he'd gone, and I smacked myself upside the head for not thinking of it first. What was wrong with me? Quite a lot actually, I thought with a smile. But I was still capable. And deadly.

  Darkness had enveloped the strange city I called home once more, and I drove through quiet streets then hit the busier roads in the city center. I parked up and walked past closed shops, past takeaways full of smiling students or lone men. Past pubs where happy chatter could be heard as people came and went, the light and the smell of booze spilling out onto the dirty streets.

  Full of purpose, I strode to the Hidden Club and descended the stairs, the noise and the smoke and the stink of numerous Hidden species hitting. But I was in no mood to soak up the ambience, to enjoy the little pools of red light that lit up every table from the tiny red lamps that would no doubt be smashed by morning as tempers flared and pissed Hidden smashed heads with magic or chairs or beer bottles.

  The place wasn't at capacity as there was an hour until midnight, and many Hidden preferred the true night to come out to play, but the crowd present was rowdy and chatty.

  All that changed when I entered.

  Wizards glared and muttered, dwarves nodded with respect, imps popped in and out of existence with a puff of sulfur in their wake, and other species just ignored me as they had no clue who I was.

  "I'm going into the dressing room," I said to Brewster Bunker as I walked past the bar. He stood immobile, his favorite position, and grunted. "And I don't want to be disturbed." Another grunt.

  I shuffled past the tables and chairs, turned right at the small stage at the far end, passed through a curtain, and into what was little but a broom closet. I pulled the curtain closed then dragged a heavy rug off the scuffed wooden floorboards. Beneath was the trapdoor I'd used with the Chemist and Mithnite to escape from a bit of bother not so long ago, resulting in a promise that led to our current predicament.

  I still couldn't believe I hadn't thought of this, but it made sense. Beneath us ran a system of tunnels and catacombs the Chemist knew only too well, and they led to a cemetery I'd visited recently. Why hadn't I thought to check inside? How could I have missed such an obvious place?

  "Because he's put a veil up. He's no ordinary ghoul now, he has power, and he's made this place as forgettable as all Hidden are to Regulars." Even as I spoke to myself I felt my memory drifting, questioning why I was even here, and I almost left, puzzled and confused. Halfway drawing the curtains aside, the baby kicked me hard in the guts and memories flooded back. Of us walking through the tunnels, of ghosts and of us emerging at the other end and me saying again that I'd make dinner for the Chemist to repay his help.

  Guess he had it all planned out, knew this would be the perfect spot to hide and had mad
e sure to veil it, erase it from everyone's mind as soon as he became what he now was. Sure, he had other places, maybe doubting his own abilities, but this was where he'd return to.

  Why?

  Because it had a link to his past, to the man he was. Where he performed stand-up in the Hidden Club and people sometimes laughed and sometimes ridiculed him. Or just threw the lamps. He thought of this place as home, and with his own off-limits then this was his safety net, a sanctuary he knew like the back of his mangled hand.

  I yanked the large ring set into the trap door, slamming it open. Dust billowed from the floor and in a cloud I descended the steps into another world.

  Long Gone

  "Shit." My shout echoed through the catacombs and vibrated the ghosts that scurried away at the intensity of my anger.

  He wasn't here, him or his children.

  I kept on walking, not knowing what else to do, my mind reeling, my body keening for a fight or at least a resolution to this mess.

  The remains of countless ghoulish meals were scattered throughout the tunnels. Along with a disturbing number of dead ghouls in various states of transmogrification. There were rags and stolen clothes, vials, jars, and pharmaceuticals of every kind. Powders stained the walls, liquids puddled on the rock floor, and the ghosts shirked from such places, keeping to the dark edges away from me and the mess they would endure for eternity.

  Many of the dead ghouls were still in their semi-human form, twisted bodies looking like they'd been in a car crash or the result of some crazed experiment gone seriously wrong. But more, the majority, were in one stage or another of reverting back to what they had once been.

  Some were dessicated, dried up husks of beings, brittle looking and ready to turn to dust. Others were more mummified. Brown, ancient skin stretched taut across sunken eyes and sharp cheekbones, hair little but wisps.