Break of Magic: A Reverse Harem Urban Fantasy (The Demon Hunter Trilogy Book 2)

by Leah Silver

  Conveniently, he clammed up. I chalked his information—if it could even be called that—up to delirium from the disease. Carefully, I filled the vial. It came out completely different from mine and Sara’s. Well, that wasn’t true. It wasn’t that dissimilar from my own blood, at least in color. But it was…thicker. Like sludge. As if the disease was stopping it in its tracks.

  I patted the man on the arm before I left him to his deathbed, returning to the lab where Sara sat at the computer, busily clicking away.

  “No one has blood like mine,” she said, her eyes scanning the screen in front of her.

  “No. I don’t expect they do.” I held up the vial I’d just taken from the man outside, and she got up to examine it.

  “It’s so thick. How does it even flow through his body?”

  “It doesn’t. Eventually, it stops, and the patient dies.” I said it like it was a fact, when it was more of an assumption. In reality, I’d never known what killed them, since they turned to ash when they died, rendering autopsies a bit impractical.

  Sara took the vial from me before heading to the counter where I’d left hers. I should’ve moved those to the fridge, I thought, watching her try to draw conclusions from the two.

  “Why is mine so different?”

  “I’m not entirely sure to be honest. The only rational conclusion I can come up with is the serum altered you somehow. Maybe, when more time has passed, your blood will go back to normal. Maybe it won’t. I’m not sure.” Something occurred to me. “Have you felt…different since you woke up?”

  She blinked a few times. We hadn’t talked much about the moments after she regained consciousness. Merry was a weepy mess. Sara seemed a bit dazed. The rest of us were just relieved it had worked. It gave us a small bit of hope for the future. At least, it had me.

  “I…” She hesitated, but then shook her head without looking at me.

  “Sara. What’s up?” I resisted the urge to turn on my charms, hoping she would appreciate my respect of her wishes.

  “It’s dumb. And probably nothing.”

  “And yet, I’d still like to know.”

  “I can…feel people. Actually, I can feel everyone. Not just humans.”

  I narrowed my eyes, trying to comprehend what she’d just divulged. “Feel people? How?”

  “Like if I shut my eyes, I still know you’re over there. You’re radiating heat. I can almost see your outline, red among the blue of the room. I can feel your warmth on my skin.”

  “Really?” I said, drawing closer. “That’s fascinating. And you couldn’t do that before?”

  She shrank away from me, and I took a step back. Apparently, I was being too eager.

  “No,” she said, sitting back behind her computer. “I’m not special like Mom, or you.” Her tone shifted, almost as if she were ashamed.

  “Sara,” I reprimanded. “Don’t talk like that. You’re one of only a few teenage vampires. That by itself is special.”

  “If by special you mean taboo, then yes. I’m exceedingly special.” She rolled her eyes.

  I laughed. I couldn’t help it. She glared at me, but I didn’t hide my smile, although I did squelch my laugh as a gesture of good will. Child vampires were frowned upon in our community, for all the obvious moral reasons. Although Sara was a teenager, her youth made her a bit of a spectacle to say the least. “You’re right. Perhaps that was a poor example. You certainly have a talent for sniffing out details.”

  “Anyone can learn to research,” she argued.

  I pulled up a stool and sat next to her, studying the half dozen windows she had open, all about supernatural blood. “And yet, no one is as good as you are. You’re a regular sleuth.”

  She glanced at her computer screen, as if seeing it for the first time. “Maybe.” Her tone seemed heartened. I smiled, satisfied I could still fix something. And yet, the blood on the far counter argued women would be about the only thing I could fix.

  Death is a predatory asshole

  I’d known quite a few supernaturals in my time. And most were vampires. I could honestly say I’d never known one with a built-in thermo detector. I wanted to explore it. Find out the temperatures of all the creatures around us. Were vampires hotter or colder than the humans? Which supernatural was the hottest? Or the coldest? The questions energized me, making me want to push her abilities, to find out what else she could do thanks to this bizarre plague.

  She looked at me like she knew what I was thinking. “We should stay on task, right?” The mouse on her computer screen hovered over the X on one of the tabs.

  “I suppose so, yes.”

  Reluctantly, she closed the tabs about supernatural blood and began searching for information on the plague.

  Watching her made me think of her mother. I missed Merry, and the thought of her had me reaching for my back pocket to retrieve my phone. No messages. The others would keep her safe. They were fine. We’d only actually been apart for about twelve hours. But somehow, it felt like an eternity. Perhaps a bit dramatic for a vampire to say, but there it was.

  I’d never felt as strongly about anyone as I did about Merry Young. It would make sense for it to frighten me, particularly since she felt the same way about my three coworkers as she did about me. But it didn’t. For some bizarre reason, it felt right. It felt like a family. A coven, as she’d affectionately called us.

  “Hey, lover boy,” Sara called from across the room. “You gonna quit mooning at your phone and get some actual work done?”

  I wanted to throw something at her, but all I had was my phone. I wouldn’t want to break that. After all, what if Merry called? I internally groaned. The teenager was rubbing off on me more than I was on her. That couldn’t stand.

  Instead of throwing something, I turned and went to the blood. The specimen from the patient seemed to be growing thicker by the minute. If I wanted to run any tests on it, it would have to be now. So, I decided to start there.

  The night was grueling, and full of frustrations. Although, I wasn’t sure what else I expected. Breakthroughs didn’t happen right away. Even if that was what we needed, what the patients needed, and what our race needed.

  In the morning, I went to check on the patients. Half the beds were empty. Luckily, this area was classified, so I didn’t have to report the failure rate. What they told the humans was up to the council, but that didn’t solve my immediate, ash-filled problem. “Brilliant,” I cursed when I saw the mess on so many beds.

  When I went back into the lab, I couldn’t shake the scowl that had settled on my face. “We need to work faster.”

  “If it’s any consolation, no new cases have been brought in,” Sara pointed out. “And no new ones have been reported. Anywhere.”

  “What kind of plague burns through a few handfuls of people, and then halts spreading?” I asked, trying to grasp what we were dealing with, the answer constantly slipping through my fingers.

  “One that’s well controlled,” Sara said.

  I didn’t have a response to that. She was right. It was well controlled. But how?

  I could only hope I’d arrive at the answer to that, and so many other questions, soon.

  After having no luck isolating the disease from the patient’s sample—who had succumbed to death in the last hour—I decided to expose the infected blood to Sara’s to see what happened. What did I have to lose?

  I put a small drop of the patient’s blood into a petri dish, and I did the same with Sara’s, attempting to put the drop directly on top of the infected specimen. But when I did, the infected blood appeared to recoil. By the time I got the samples under a microscope, the infected blood had fled to the edge of the dish—as far from Sara’s blood as it could get.

  “That’s odd,” I mumbled. Obvious to my conundrum, Sara tapped away on her computer, constantly searching for information, some key component that would unlock everything.

  How could I force the two to interact? A smaller container for one. Perhaps a slide. I set
the experiment up, taking care to do my best to mix the two specimens. If nothing else, the centrifuge would force the issue.

  “Levi?” Sara asked quietly from her corner of the lab.

  “Mmm?” I didn’t bother to look over at her. I was too busy getting her blood onto a slide.

  “Can we take a break for some…sustenance?”

  It had been quite a while since either of us had refueled. In New Orleans, there were plenty of places to get a pint of demon blood, but I hated to walk away. So many of our patients had already died. She must’ve seen my turmoil.

  “Tell you what, I’ll go alone, pick up some to-go cups.”

  I pushed away from my microscope. “No. It’s fine. Your mother would have my balls if I let you wander this city alone, so that’s not happening. As it turns out, I’m quite fond of my balls.”

  “I hear my mother is, too.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief, and I choked on a laugh.

  “You’d have to ask her,” I said. We left the lab and passed through the cleaning zone, preparing to rejoin healthy society.

  “Yeah, she wouldn’t tell me.” She honestly seemed disappointed, and I darted a sidelong glance at her.

  “You have a strange relationship with your mother.”

  “You try living with someone for centuries and see what topics of conversation pop up.”

  I chuckled. “I will.”

  An approving smile crossed her face.

  She was quiet for only a few steps while we made our way out into the evening. “So why don’t you have a coven already? I mean, I know why Mom and I are loners, but I’m not so sheltered I don’t understand we’re the odd people out. Why are you?”

  “You’re nothing if not direct,” I accused, but she didn’t respond, apparently unoffended by my statement. “Let’s just say I don’t get along with most vampires.”

  “A charmer like you? I’m not buying that.”

  “Really? Your mother did.”

  She snorted. “She let you think she did, to revisit the topic later.”

  I had no response for that. Sara was probably right. I’d fooled myself into thinking I’d flown under Merry’s radar. She simply had bigger fish to fry, and my time to divulge the real reason why I didn’t have a coven was coming. Then what would she do? Would she even want to be around me?

  As a mild sense of panic started to set in, Sara’s voice cut through the noise in my mind. “Please. Whatever you did can’t be worse than anything she’s done. She’s a demon slayer, remember?”

  “She does that for the good of the world. What I did…” I trailed off, the memories of so long ago pulling at the back of my brain. I’d shoved them away the moment I’d walked out the door.

  “What you did…” Sara prompted. No. I wasn’t ready to deal with it. We needed to focus. Find a cure. We didn’t have time for emotional trauma.

  “Look, I don’t feel like discussing it right now. Let’s just get our drinks and head back.” It came out colder than I meant it to, and she seemed stung.

  “You’re a piece of work, Levi, you know that? You can charm your way into any information you want, but the Mother forbid the tables are turned on you, huh?” She stormed into the little pub, and I stood outside for a few beats, composing myself. Was she right? Absolutely. Did I want to let her know that? No way in hell.

  No matter how I’d shoved the memories away, the smell of death wasn’t something easily forgotten. No matter what I did, how many flowers I kept around, or how much incense I burned, that smell never fully left me. Smelling it in the sick bay was almost like meeting an old friend—if that friend was a predatory asshole who carried a scythe.

  Once, I’d told that ridiculous demon to take a bath or hook up with some goddess who would help him. But he was a man of few words and simply walked on by me. As an immortal vampire, I was never his target. I intended to keep it that way, despite this ridiculous plague that was claiming my race.

  The very first time I’d smelled him, I hadn’t known what it was. I’d only known to recoil from it. And who wouldn’t? It smelled like the worst combination of rotting things imaginable. Almost like a bog and a trash heap had a love child. But both of those felt warm. Death was cold, and its scent froze to the inside of the nostrils, so it could never be escaped.

  I sat down next to Sara, a tall glass of demon’s blood in front of me. She watched me, having cleared her face of all emotion. I took a sip, hoping it was better than that yeti piss her mother loved so much, and steeled myself for the conversation to come.

  “My sister is the reason I don’t have a coven.”

  “Your sister?” she asked, clearly baffled by this revelation. “You had family?”

  “I did.”

  “What happened?”

  “I brought death to her doorstep. Because of that, I left and I haven’t had a coven since.” Secretly, I hoped that would be enough to stop Sara’s incessant questions. But that would be too easy.

  “You did what?”

  Demon’s breath. “It’s not something I like to talk about.” Surely she would quit bugging me after a direct statement like that.

  “Yeah, I’m not interested in what you like right now,” she said, her eyes as wide as saucers. She was like a dog with a bone, and she wouldn’t let go until I gave her the whole damned story.

  “Fine. But if I tell you this, you agree to listen through to the end. Without interruption. The second you stop me, I’m done.”

  “Fine,” she said flatly, as if she were completely unimpressed by whatever I was going to say, even though I hadn’t said it yet.

  I distracted myself with a long pull of demon’s blood. It wasn’t half bad, but it was New Orleans. There was plenty of fresh stock available. “I wasn’t turned like you and your mother. It wasn’t a vicious attack. Predator to prey. I was created. When I say I had a sister, I don’t mean in the traditional sense. We were created on the same day, by the same vampire. Our father, so to speak. He was making a family. Hunting for outcasts, or those who were dying. He considered himself a sort of savior.” The thought of him made me want to spit the demon’s blood right out. He was no more a savior than that pile of goblin shit Devlin.

  She looked at me, apparently afraid to speak. I continued. “Although we weren’t related by blood, I loved her like a sister. Protected her. Cared for her. The man who created us wanted a family. A true coven. Or so he said. The longer we were with him, the more uncomfortable I became. He was making advances on the women he brought in. They weren’t his children, he constantly asserted. They were his lovers. Even my sister.” I glanced at her. I wasn’t entirely comfortable telling her what went on in my father’s coven, so I skipped the gory details.

  “She said she loved him. When I tried to get her to leave with me, we had a falling out. Our father discovered my plot and killed her in front of me.” I tried to say it like it didn’t still hurt me. Like I couldn’t still smell death coming for her. Like I didn’t still feel the desperation at the slightest hint of that scent.

  I cleared my throat. “He called her a sacrificial lamb. Said the same would happen to the others if they tried to come between him and his family.”

  I sighed heavily, remembering the hate in his eyes.

  He stood there, dressed in all black like Dracula come to life. “Would you like to challenge me?” he asked, his voice stern, as it always had been. Never once had I felt a single iota of warmth from him. Now, the hatred was mutual. He’d taken the only thing I cared about from me. And it was my fault.

  I stared at him, wondering how he could be allowed to exist. How the Mother could suffer a soul like his. The devious smile that spread across his face told me he knew what I was thinking, and I cursed his ability to read minds. I hoped it tortured him in the dark of night, when our minds raced. I hoped he never found peace.

  “Harsh thoughts for someone I gave life to,” he said, standing up straight, his chest puffed out, arms gripped behind his back. He watched me, waiting to see w
hat my next move would be. He thought I would fall back in line, but not this time. He’d crossed a line. In fact, he’d gone so far past it, he couldn’t even see it anymore.

  “I’m leaving,” I said. I wasn’t sure where I’d found the confidence, but it was right there when I needed it.

  “Oh, you are, are you?” he challenged.

  “Yes.”

  “And what if I don’t let you?”

  “You don’t let me do anything. I’m not your child. You brought me to this life, but you’re no father. A father wouldn’t do the things you’ve done. A father wouldn’t murder his own child to scare the rest of the litter into line,” I spat it at him, hoping the words hurt. But they bounced off his puffed-out chest as if they were rubber balls.

  “I let you do everything, my boy.” He took several threatening steps toward me, but I held my ground.

  “No. You don’t.” When he got within striking distance, I took out a silver knife I’d bought in preparation for our exit and rammed it into his side. He made an odd sound. Sort of a strangled gasp. His eyes widened, and his fangs bared. He lunged at me, trying to tear my head off, but I stepped back, letting him fall forward, flat on his face.

  The others just stared at me. I wondered if they would come for me, too. Some of them seemed as if they wanted to. Others looked frightened, wondering what they would do without any clear leadership. A small few regarded me with genuine gratitude. I only inclined my head before I turned and walked out of the coven forever.

  Of course, I didn’t tell Sara all of that. “After he killed my sister, I killed him. It was my first kill.” I shrugged. “As a charmer, I don’t see much call for killing. Although when I killed that Fae for your mother, it was different.”

  “Different how?” she asked, forgetting our agreement. But I decided to let it slide since my story was mostly over.

  “Because, your mother means more to me than that woman’s life. I think the only reason I was successful with my…” I scrunched my nose, unwilling to use the word father to describe the man who’d created me. “With the man who’d made us was because he’d left me with nothing to lose.”