The Vampire's Spell - Kiss of The Night: Book 3

by Lucy Lyons

  By now Stevie and David had joined their daughter at the door. Stevie looked like even the smallest noise would send her running for the hills and David had on a look of resigned civility. Peter tried to recall just whose idea this dinner had been, but he was completely at a loss. No one in their right mind would have agreed to this.

  Peter’s father and mother came to the door looking like two black shadows and just as silent. His father wore a full three-piece suit and his dark hair was oiled and parted to the side. His mother had on heels despite the snow, holding firmly onto her husband’s arm as she navigated the slippery sidewalk.

  “Thank you for inviting us to your home,” Peter’s father said stiffly. He was a short man, but possessed a commanding presence.

  “It’s the least we could do,” David replied and ushered them inside.

  Ashe shivered as Peter closed the door behind them. He worried that all of the fireplace’s warmth had escaped out the open door. He put an arm around her.

  Everyone made the proper introductions, which Peter facilitated as best he could. Peter’s mother produced a sleek gift bag from the inside of her coat and presented it to Stevie. “It’s wine,” she said. “I don’t know if you drink it or not, and I have no taste for it myself, but the young man at the shop recommended it.”

  “Thank you,” Stevie replied. She handed the wine to her husband, who disappeared quickly into the kitchen. “Please make yourselves at home,” she said. “We’ve got appetizers on in the living room.”

  It was all so unnatural, Peter thought as he took a seat in the living room. On the low table in the center was a small plate of crackers and cheese, and beside it a silver tray of glasses filled with a deep red liquid. “It isn’t,” Peter said to Ashe.

  “Pig’s blood,” Ashe replied. “Mom wanted to serve you the human stuff, but Dad refused. He thought it was too much too soon. Mom’s really trying, but I think she overestimates her ability to tolerate your kind’s unique habits.”

  Peter laughed. He decided he liked Stevie quite a bit. She would get along well with his own mother; Clara, who was holding a piece of cheese to her nose and sniffing it cautiously like it might bite her at any moment.

  Penelope was already onto her second glass of refreshments, seemingly content to be left by herself in the corner, although she kept shooting furtive glances towards the others every once in a while. David came back into the room, handing his wife a glass of wine before taking a seat across from Peter’s father.

  “So, your son’s been helping our daughter study for her classes,” Stevie said in the general direction of Peter’s parents, as if this were any normal get-together.

  “I didn’t know,” Peter’s mother replied, putting down the cheese and folding her hands in her lap.

  “He’s a very nice young man.” Stevie commented, taking a sip of her wine.

  An awkward silence followed, during which Peter started to regret ever agreeing to come here with his family. He could tell that everyone was on edge and unsure of how to act.

  David cleared his throat. “So the snow’s really coming down out there.”

  “Yes,” Peter’s father replied. “Much more than what we are used to. But you already know that.”

  “It was snowing the first night we met, remember?” Clara said to her husband.

  “Sounds romantic,” Stevie commented and took another sip of wine. “How did you two meet?”

  Peter’s father looked uncomfortable. He probably would have blushed had he been capable of it. “Oh, it was ages ago. It really wasn’t anything special.”

  His wife was not so easily deterred. “Otto’s father was a lord and I was nothing but a farm girl, so we never had the luxury of meeting in the conventional way. Well, one night it started to snow really hard and my family built a large fire in the hearth. You have to understand that this was the Middle Ages and chimneys weren’t really in use yet.”

  Peter glanced towards Ashe, but she didn’t seem to notice. She was too busy listening to his mother’s story.

  “Anyway, the smoke from the fire got to be too much for our little farmhouse and I propped my bedroom window open just a bit in order to breathe before I went to bed. When I next awoke it was the middle of the night and a strange young man was at my open window asking to be let inside. I thought he just wanted to warm up by the hearth, but when I let him inside he—”

  Otto coughed loudly and Clara seemed to realize she had said too much.

  “In any case, we’ve been together ever since,” Clara finished abruptly.

  “It’s still romantic,” Stevie said, popping a cube of cheese into her mouth. “My husband here couldn’t even ask me on a date. And then he ran away for ten years.”

  It was David’s turn now to cough loudly, drowning out the rest of his wife’s complaints.

  Peter looked over at Ashe and could see that she was smiling. “What’s so funny?” he hissed.

  “I think everyone will get along just fine,” she whispered in reply.

  Peter still wasn’t so sure.

  Dinner ended without incident, though Ashe and her mother were the only two who had eaten anything. The others had insisted on sitting at the table while the two of them made their way through the mountains of turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, and green beans that Ashe’s mother had ambitiously prepared. Even though Stevie had made the effort to have alternative refreshments on hand for their guests, she must have forgotten that they weren’t able to consume anything else. Ashe and her mom barely put a dent in the feast and Ashe thought with dread towards the weeks of leftovers ahead of her.

  As everyone pitched in to help clear the table, Ashe noticed Penelope wander alone into the living room. Penelope had been silent all night and while that wasn’t especially out of character for Peter’s eldest sister, Ashe wanted to make sure things were okay between them. Ashe harbored no hard feelings. She knew that Penelope had been acting on pure instinct when she had bitten Ashe, having been manipulated by Landon into losing control. Now was the perfect chance to clear the air and maybe start on the long path towards friendship, or at the very least mutual understanding. Ashe put down the plates she was holding and followed Penelope into the living room.

  The fireplace was burning low with no one to tend to it. Penelope stood by the mantelpiece gazing down into the embers. She looked much better with her hair down, Ashe thought, much softer and less like the monster that sometimes still haunted Ashe’s dreams. The scars on her neck twinged, but she forced herself to ignore the pain.

  “I’m really glad everyone came tonight,” Ashe said standing beside her.

  Penelope looked up, startled.

  “Thank you for giving my mom and I a chance.”

  Penelope’s expression calmed but she didn’t reply. Instead she moved towards the door as if to leave.

  Ashe didn’t want to lose her chance to talk to Penelope alone, so quickly said, “I know it’s hard, after everything that’s happened, but I want us to forget all of that. I think if we give each other a chance, things won’t be so bad.”

  Penelope stopped and turned. Her eyes almost glowed in the flickering firelight. Ashe felt a pang of fear, but tried to tell herself it was okay.

  “But I can’t forget,” Penelope said. She slowly approached Ashe again. Ashe could see her lips curling up at the edges. “Now that I have the taste of your blood, aren’t you worried I’ll bite you again?”

  “No,” Ashe forced herself to reply. Flashes of that night came flooding back into Ashe’s mind: the sharp stab of teeth, the dribble of warm blood down her neck, and the darkness threatening to consume her. She hoped Penelope couldn’t see her shaking.

  “You’re a nuisance,” Penelope said. “And you don’t belong here with us. The sooner you realize that the better.”

  The words stung Ashe. She already felt like an outsider in Peter’s world, but hearing it come from someone else gave strength to her fears. What if Peter also came to feel the same way, that she was a
nuisance and didn't belong with his family after all?

  “You don’t have to like me,” Ashe said trying to keep her voice strong. “But I’m not going anywhere. Peter loves me, and if I go then he goes too.”

  Penelope’s expression went dark in a flash. She reached up and grabbed one of Ashe’s earrings. She pulled it just enough for the metal post to dig into Ashe’s flesh and cause her pain. “You don’t deserve these, you know,” Penelope hissed. “You’re not one of us, and you never will be.”

  She pulled a little harder and Ashe thought she could feel blood welling up under Penelope’s fingers.

  “Let go,” Ashe cried and Penelope started to grin in earnest.

  At that moment Vanessa came into the room, saying loudly, “Not interrupting anything, am I?”

  Ashe breathed a sigh of relief as Penelope let go of her earlobe. The woman’s fingers were stained with small droplets of Ashe’s blood. “Not at all, dear sister,” Penelope replied with malice dripping from her voice. She brought her fingers up to her lips and licked them clean. “I was just leaving.”

  She turned on her heels and left the room.

  Ashe put a hand up to her burning earlobe. It came away bloody. She would have to tell Peter about what his sister had done to her.

  “You okay?” Vanessa asked.

  Ashe nodded. If Vanessa hadn’t come when she did, Ashe might not have been feeling okay.

  “You’re bleeding,” Vanessa said.

  All Ashe wanted to do was find Peter and tell him what had happened. She wanted to be back in the kitchen with everyone else, where it was bright and loud and full of life. But Vanessa stopped her before she could leave.

  “I’ll talk to Penelope,” she said in a low voice. “She won’t pull something like that again.”

  Ashe didn’t care what Vanessa did. She just wanted to talk to Peter, he would keep her safe. “It’s okay, really. She was just mad about the earrings. I’ll get Peter to handle it.” Ashe replied.

  “You can’t,” Vanessa said sternly.

  “His sister threatened me. He needs to know.”

  Vanessa shook her head. “Peter loves you too much. He shouldn’t have to be forced to choose between his sister and you. It would shatter Penelope to lose him; just the threat of telling him will be enough to keep her in line. He doesn’t need to know.

  “So you won’t tell him, right?” Vanessa asked.

  Though she hated being told what to do, Ashe felt like she had no choice. “Fine, whatever pleases you; I won’t tell,” she replied. She felt sick in her stomach and angry at Vanessa for forcing her hand.

  Ashe pushed past Vanessa and rejoined the others in the kitchen. Peter was washing dishes and she picked up a towel to dry them. He smiled at her and she smiled back, though her heart wasn’t in it. She was troubled by what Vanessa had said. Ashe herself wasn’t completely sure who Peter would choose if it came down to it. She knew Peter loved her, but was it enough to compete with loyalty to his family? Peter had only known Ashe for a few months now, but his sister had been with him for a century at least. Besides, Ashe would eventually die of old age anyway. She was replaceable; family was not, as Ashe knew all too well.

  For now she would have to trust that Vanessa was watching out for her. This didn’t sit well with her either. Vanessa had been there when Landon was holding her captive. Ashe had seen the hunger in her eyes and her pleasure at seeing Ashe’s fear. Was it possible for all of that to be so easily forgotten? Ashe wondered how much of Vanessa’s reaction had been the hunger and how much had been her personality.

  “Hey, are you still with us?” Peter said waving a wet dish in front of her face.

  She snatched it out of his hand. “Yeah, I’m sorry but turkey always makes me sleepy,” Ashe replied.

  “That’s all?” Peter asked. He looked concerned.

  She could have told him about Penelope, but she didn’t. “Yeah, everything’s just fine.”

  CHAPTER 3

  The classroom was buzzing with the energy of students just back from winter break. Ashe was excited too for her last semester of classes, because it meant she was only a few months away from graduation and becoming fully independent. After school was finished she could go anywhere with Peter. They could travel the whole country if they wanted, and maybe even the world. She would no longer be tied down by her studies.

  Ashe glanced at the syllabus, idly massaging her sore earlobe. She had taken out the earrings Peter had given her as they were far too formal to wear to class and likely too expensive as well. Besides, she wanted to give her ear some time to heal after the damage Penelope had done. A semester ago she wouldn’t have believed that she would be taking another of Professor Sharp’s folklore classes, but here she was in the same lecture hall where her life had changed in so many ways. She was looking forward to seeing the professor again and catching up on how he had spent his winter vacation. Unfortunately, he was running late this morning and the students were getting restless. A crumpled-up syllabus flew past Ashe’s head towards the wastepaper basket, but missed and landed atop the podium. “Sorry,” a student in a letterman jacket shouted as he jogged down the row of seats to retrieve it.

  Ashe glanced at the clock. It wasn’t like Professor Sharp to run this late. His mannerisms were slow, but he was always on time. As she pondered what could have been keeping him, a woman from the administrative office came in and stood at the podium. She cleared her throat and everyone quieted.

  “I apologize for the late notice, but class is cancelled today. Professor Sharp has had some personal matters to attend to and will not be back on campus until further notice. We have called in a substitute for him from a nearby college, but he won’t be getting here until this evening. Classes will resume as usual on Wednesday. If you have any questions you can contact the dean’s office.”

  The woman left the podium and the students started exiting the lecture hall, talk already buzzing of what could have happened to the professor. Ashe just sat in her chair with a worried frown crinkling her brow, her eyes looking sightlessly down at her empty notebook page. She hoped Professor Sharp was okay. The woman had said personal matters, not illness or an accident; something must have happened to a family member. Ashe slowly gathered her things and dropped them into her backpack. There was no one else in the lecture hall by the time she left. The room was cold, empty, and Ashe wasn’t looking forward to returning on Wednesday.

  She left the building and the snowy white fog quickly consumed her. It was hard to see where she was going, though the distant light of the student center kept her on track. The wind bit through her heavy jacket as if she hadn’t been wearing it at all. It looked like a snow storm had blown in and it would only get worse.

  The news worried Peter. He had come across it by chance in the student center in a local newspaper left on a chair he was about to sit on. He picked up the newspaper and skimmed the headlines. On the bottom of the second page was a small article about a missing persons case outside the city. The county was the same as the one Landon’s hideout was in; Peter knew in a second that it wasn’t a coincidence. He got comfortable in his chair and took a closer look at the article.

  It had been a young couple out on a drive. Their car had been found crashed in the snow by the side of the road, but there was no sign of the bodies. Police were stumped, though there was a theory that the couple had faked the car crash and ran in order to escape a mountain of unpaid bills. Peter wasn’t so sure. His bet was that they were either dead, or soon would be once Landon and his clan got their fill.

  Peter had been doing some investigative work on his own lately with the help of another vampire whom Winnie had gotten him in contact with. The man was somewhat of a pro at rooting out the most dangerous of their kind and handling them with discretion. His name was Mark and he tended to drift to wherever his specialized skill set was needed. Peter hoped that, together, they would be able to bring down Landon’s clan.

  He snapped a picture of the ar
ticle and sent it to Mark. Then he carefully tore out the newspaper article and put it in his wallet alongside another one he had found earlier that week about a senile old man who had gone missing while out for a walk. He folded the paper inside just as Ashe came walking up to him.

  “Anything interesting?” she asked nodding at the newspaper on the table as she sat down.

  “Not really,” Peter replied as he put his wallet away. “How was class?”

  Ashe sighed. Peter could tell something was wrong. “Professor Sharp’s out sick or something so class was cancelled. No one knows when he’ll be back.”

  Peter wondered if he should add Professor Sharp to his list.

  “We’ll get a sub on Wednesday.”

  “That’s all?”

  Ashe had been acting a little withdrawn lately. Peter wondered if she was still worrying about Landon. All Peter wanted to do was make her feel safe. He would have done anything.

  Peter’s phone buzzed and he picked it up. It was a message from Mark telling Peter to call. He ignored it, not wanting Ashe to know that he was going after Landon and worry.

  “Who is it?” Ashe asked.

  “Vanessa,” Peter lied. He felt bad lying to her but it was for her own good.

  “Are you ready to go?”

  Peter was about to ask her where before remembering that he was supposed to go to her house for dinner that night. Though Ashe’s mother was relatively easy to get along with, Peter was definitely looking forward to Ashe moving out and getting her own place, maybe a place for the two of them. “Yeah, let’s go,” he said, gathering up the newspaper with the missing article.

  Ashe stood while tucking her hair behind her ear. Peter noticed her earlobe was red. “Is your ear okay?” he asked. He wondered if the earrings he had given her had caused an allergic reaction. They were centuries old, after all, and who knew what kind of metal they were made of.

  “My earring caught on my sweater this morning so I thought I’d give them a rest,” she replied.

  Of course, Peter thought. He wondered if all this worrying after Ashe was healthy for him. Every scrape, frown, or slightly odd comment of hers made him panic that something was wrong. But if something was truly wrong, she would tell him. He would have to learn to trust her more.