Bloodstone

by Sydney Bristow

  Her disregard only served to rile me to a feverish pitch. I struck out with both hands, hoping to clutch her neck, but no matter how hard I tried to grasp onto it, my hands stopped an inch from her face, although wind continued to brush against her hair, pushing it back as though a fan blew air into her face from only inches away.

  Alexis quivered in place, swallowing repeatedly, her eyebrows lowering in fear. “Whoever’s there, I’m not afraid of you.”

  “You will be!” I shouted.

  “Oh my God!”

  The voice reverberated through my skull. It sounded like…Celestina. I redirected my attention around me, but I didn’t see her anywhere.

  “Aunt Serena!” Celestina’s voice rang out.

  “Holy shit!” exclaimed Brandon. “Was she wrestling a pack of wild dogs?”

  Where were they? And how could I hear them while not in earshot? A second later, however, I realized that both Celestina and Brandon had somehow found my body. I guessed the link between body and soul allowed me to hear what occurred around my body. I suspected that Alexis hadn’t allowed her daughter to tag along on the trip to the bar. I’d bet Celestina had called a cab and made her way here on her own, which explained the delay between getting dropped off and finding my body in the storage room.

  Rather than waste more time on my worthless sister, I hurried back to the storage room in time to find Brandon and Celestina attending to my body.

  Brandon whipped his drumsticks behind him, gave my shoulder only a cursory glance, and put an ear to my mouth. “Oh, shit. She’s not breathing.”

  “No!” Celestina shrieked and hurried over to my body. She couldn’t contain the energy throttling through her hands to move of their own accord. “What do we do?” Her chest rose and fell with nervous energy. “We gotta help her. What do we do?”

  What had happened to the confident girl who had seen me die, only to kickstart my heart less than a week ago? What made her so anxious and jumpy that she couldn’t recall how she’d saved me in the past?

  Brandon, the epitome of calm and collected, said, “Can’t you help her?” His face twisted into an agonized expression. “You did before. Why can’t you help her now?”

  Celestina placed her hands against her cheeks, shut her eyes, and shook her head. A slight whining sound came from her closed mouth. It looked like she was trying to block out reality.

  “Okay,” he said, “if you can’t help, go find someone who can. Tell them to bring an AED.”

  Celestina gave no indication that she’d heard him. Then again, she began humming louder to block out his voice from reaching her ears.

  I watched my niece, concerned that she’d begun losing her mind. Why was she humming? To block out Brandon’s voice? No other explanation could explain her response. Besides, what had taken place in the past few days to dissuade her from helping me? What hadn’t I seen or heard?

  “What happened, Serena?” Brandon muttered. “How long have you been like this?” He lifted my shirt above my breasts, slipped one hand over the other, and placed them under my bra in the middle of my chest and began administering CPR. “Hey!” he shouted to Celestina, looking at her without losing a beat while pushing pressure above my heart in his bid to keep my heart active, in order to break through my niece’s fright.

  “I’m doing CPR,” he shouted, breathing heavy, probably from an adrenaline overload while addressing Celestina. “Your Aunt Serena will be fine. Now go get some help.” He waited a moment, but Celestina remained in place as tears slipped down her cheeks. “Go!” he yelled at her.

  She let out an anguished and frightened cry, spun around, and rushed out of the room.

  Brandon turned back to me. “Come on, Serena,” he said, gasping. “Work with me here.”

  I approached him, completely and utterly moved by his dedication. If I had a physical form, and he hadn’t been working to keep my heart active, I’d collapse beside him to give him a big hug.

  “I didn’t see any vampires out there for a change. Are you going to miss our first show without them?” He turned back to the door, frustrated. Celestina hadn’t yet returned with help. Beads of perspiration appeared on his forehead. He stopped CPR, plugged my nose with two fingers, tilted my head back, and blew a short breath into my mouth. He waited a second and repeated the procedure.

  “Goddammit,” he said, his voice strained. “I’m not letting you die.” With pure determination, he went back to work on my chest, keeping a steady rhythm. “Do you hear me?” He checked the door again. “Come on!” he shouted, either to the staff who hadn’t yet barged through the door or to me. “You’re the best friend I ever…” His barely audible voice cracked, but he continued pressing down on my chest before returning to my lips and blowing air between them. He was out of breath, but he pushed more air into my body and then continued doing CPR.

  A pot-bellied man in his late forties with pale, clammy skin lacking the slightest indication that even one shred of hair had ever appeared there, rushed into the room with a defibrillator. Behind him, Celestina trailed for a moment before taking the lead and skidding beside Brandon. The pale man hustled over to them, bent down as his knees crackled, popped open the box, and pulled out the AED. Gasping, he pulled out the pads.

  A striking thought pelted my mind. Rather than stand by as a participant, I needed to return to my body. Otherwise, with no soul inside my body, I might not have enough will to return to life. I dived toward my body, and once my spirit locked into my body, I felt weak, tired. At the same time, I was determined to return to a physical state. I pushed and focused and sent every bit of energy through my limbs, forcing myself to awaken.

  A moment before the Home Bar employee put the pads onto my chest, I took in a huge gust of breath and forced myself forward, which reminded me of an old movie where a vampire rose inside his casket in a stiff manner. If I had flat-lined, my heart wouldn’t have begun beating again because Brandon did CPR. My heart would have needed the electrical jolt the AED would have supplied.

  Then I knew why my heart began pumping again. My soul left my body. Without the will to live, to fight in order to continue my existence, my body became nothing more than an empty shell. My spiritual absence had actively contributed to my near-death experience, and I could only attribute my return to the magical spark my spirit provided once it connected with my body.

  “Thank God!” Brandon gasped. His arms drew inward, exhausted as he placed a palm over his eyes, taking quick breaths.

  “Aunt Serena!” Celestina shouted, her tone both excited and frightened. No longer willing to remain an observer, she drew herself closer to me and curled an arm around my shoulder. “You’re bloody. Are you okay?”

  My shoulder throbbed and sent streaks of pain through tributaries in my body. My head pounded, which made me squint, but I nodded. “I’m okay.”

  “Should we call for an ambulance?” Brandon asked.

  “I’m okay,” I told Celestina and tried to smile to allay her fears. I met Brandon’s gaze with a bright smile for reviving me. “I almost died a second time,” I said, trying to make light of the issue, despite feeling the exact opposite. “Three times a charm?”

  Celestina’s expression folded into frustration, but she didn’t say a word. “That’s not funny.” More tears left her eyes.

  “Thank you,” I said to Brandon. “Thanks for fixing me.”

  “What happened?” Brandon asked Celestina. “Why didn’t you help her?”

  I put a hand on his arm, intent to ask him to cut her some slack. “She’s been through enough.”

  “No, I don’t think so.” He set his gaze on Celestina. “You sure as hell could have helped when I needed it. Healing her wound a few days ago proved as much.”

  Celestina wiped the tears and turned around. Her back rose and fell as silent sobs racked her body.

  “Come on,” I said, “she’s had a tough few days.”

  “And you haven’t?” he asked, unwilling to let the issue rest or remove
his attention from Celestina. “You saved her before. Why not now? Is it because of the prophecy? You’re scared …Serena will kill your mother?”

  “Brandon!” I shouted with an angry scowl. “That’s enough. Leave her alone.”

  “Really?” he asked. Contours of frustration rippled across his forehead. “After you almost died?”

  “Did it occur to you that she couldn’t help?” I asked. “She revived me and her grandmother because we’d died at the hands of magic. Werewolves attacked me, but I didn’t die because—”

  “Wait…werewolves?” His eyes grew wide and he pushed backwards as though my shocking announcement thrust him in the opposite direction. “I figured they’d make an appearance at some point, but there was more than one of them?”

  “Yes. There were four of them.”

  “Werewolves were created by magic,” he countered. “So why couldn’t Celestina heal your shoulder?”

  “That’s true, but the werewolf bite didn’t cause me my heart to stop. I left my body and visited her to get her to help me while you were with…” Recalling that Celestina was nearby, I stopped talking before revealing that Brandon had been with Alexis for a short period of time, something I didn’t even want to think about, let alone bring up in the future. “My heart stopped because my soul wasn’t there to fight to stay alive.”

  Brandon gave that some thought and simmered down. “I’m sorry. You scared the hell out of me, and I was upset that she didn’t want to help when I’d seen her do it before.” He slanted his head to the side in hopes that Celestina would meet his gaze. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

  “It’s okay,” she said in a timid tone, although she wouldn’t look his way.

  Celestina had suffered so much verbal abuse that even though I’d just returned to life, I found myself worrying about my niece, rather than myself. “Your mom didn’t let you tag along, did she?”

  “No.” She glared at Brandon. “Why didn’t you stick up for me when I said I wanted to come?”

  Brandon scoffed. “I’m your friend. She’s your mom. The scale tips in her favor.”

  Upon hearing that he considered her a friend, Celestina’s glare melted away. “Makes sense, I guess.” Her face wrinkled with confusion. “A group of werewolves attacked you. Did they know how to find you because they were created by magic?”

  I met my niece’s stare. “Your mom, she played a part in—”

  “What?” she asked with a terrified expression and jolted backwards and up to her feet. She shook her head, resisting the truth. “Don’t say that. Mom wouldn’t—”

  “Zephora sent them. Your mother…” I cut my sentence short, knowing that if I placed the full blame on Alexis, my niece would find it difficult to think clearly. “She followed through. I barely escaped.”

  Celestina gave me a sidelong stare. “Mom wouldn’t—”

  “Have I ever lied to you?” I asked.

  She stared at her shoes. “No, but I can’t believe that. Sisters don’t–”

  “Your mother wants more power. We both know that. She’ll do whatever it takes to get it.”

  A pang of agony hit my shoulder and I grimaced. Within a moment, I felt weak, dizzy. A frigid chill passed over me. I looked up at Celestina. “When did it get so cold in here?” I tried to wrap my arms across my chest, but pain spread from my shoulder and up my neck. “I feel…so woozy.”

  “What’s happening?” asked Brandon.

  I looked at my shoulder, and blood still oozed from my wound.

  “Werewolves did that?” asked Celestina. Her lips trembled, and her hands vibrated to the same frequency.

  “Fuck this,” Brandon said and pulled out his phone. “I’m calling the paramedics. They’ll probably get here in a few minutes. They can monitor you and figure out what’s going on?”

  “I don’t think so,” I said as my energy left me quicker than I thought possible. “So tired.” I fought to keep my eyelids open, but when I did, I focused on Celestina. “I’m proud of you, Celie.” A goofy grin appeared on my face. “You’re strong and smart. Just as important? You’ve got a good heart.” I nodded and when my eyes shut, I looked forward to having another moment to rest. “That’s the most important thing.” A second later, I felt small fingers grab my left arm, shaking me, but I luxuriated in the bliss of darkness falling over me.

  “Aunt Serena!” Celestina murmured from what felt like she’d stood at the opposite end of a tunnel. “Don’t go. Don’t leave me!”

  Sensing that if I remained inside my body if it moved past the Earthly realm, I’d be trapped and unable to move about this world, I detached from my body. Oddly enough, it was the exact opposite reason I’d separated from my body a short time ago. So what encouraged me to leave my body?

  Celestina shook me, her eyes once more glassy with tears. “Aunt Serena? Don’t die! Don’t leave me!”

  Just as Brandon planned to hit the first key on his phone, he saw my body stop breathing. “Shit!” He dropped the phone to administer CPR once again.

  Frightened my body would fail, this time I sensed that returning to it might not result in reawakening, and since I didn’t want to watch my body gasp its final breath, I looked around, sensing a presence I couldn’t quite identify. I caught movement in the doorway and saw the employee that Celestina had returned with only moments ago.

  The pale, potbellied man with the bushy mustache cracked a slight smile and raced away from the door faster than humanly possible.

  His little grin gesture informed me that he could see my spirit. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have acknowledged my presence. So far, only Zephora and Celestina had seen me while astral projecting. So how had he accomplished that when so few others could do likewise?

  Ordinarily, I would have returned to my body, but I knew the human mind could withstand a loss of brain activity for up to five minutes before it began losing integral mind functions. Remaining outside my body was a risky endeavor, but I got the impression this man would continue to provoke me if I didn’t follow him. Or maybe that’s what he wanted me to believe. Torn between two options, I made the impulsive decision to track him down.

  I swept from the room, sped down the hall, and hurried back to the main room.

  Nolan stood in front of the microphone, staring at the crowd with trepidation. “Sorry, everybody.” Perplexed, he shook his head. A second later, a bottle flew toward his head, and he ducked before it smashed against a framed photo of the hockey player, Patrick Kane, which rattled but didn’t fall to the ground. Nolan stood tall with a furious expression that made it clear he wouldn’t allow another rude gesture. “Hey, chill the fuck out! Give us a minute to straighten this out, okay? We’ll be right back!”

  There was the willful, passionate guitar player I’d known! I smiled at the forcefulness in his voice. I scanned the room for the potbellied man. I didn’t see him anywhere. I lifted myself a few feet off the ground and scanned the room. No one rushed from the floor and headed towards the exit. Distressed that I couldn’t locate the mystery man, I peered through the windows, but didn’t see anyone or any vehicles tearing out of the parking lot. In all likelihood, he hadn’t left the bar. I examined every face before me in hopes of finding him.

  Nolan glanced in my direction with a perplexed look, as though sensing an unexpected presence, but unsure how to relate to it, he addressed those in attendance. “I’m sorry, but—”

  “Hey, asshole!” a man shouted from about eight or nine rows back. “What the hell was that? Who was that bitch? Then your drummer took off? What the fuck, man?”

  Nolan collected his composure, although it looked as though it took plenty of fortitude to do so. “I don’t know what happened. It was some kind of mistake. Give me a couple minutes, and we’ll be back out here, okay?” He surveyed the spectators. “Can you give us a few?”

  The crowd, full of rolling eyes and shaking heads, grumbled to one another but settled down.

  Just as Nolan spun around, prepared to head down t
he hall in search of me (or rather, Alexis), another bottle soared through the air and slammed against the back wall, startling Nolan and Kendall, who both ducked a second after hearing the crashing bottle.

  A moment later, Nolan rushed back to the microphone. Heat vibrated off his flesh. Fury shimmered in his eyes. He pointed at those before him. “Knock that shit off, goddammit!”

  The unruly spectators that had rebelled against Alexis’s behavior now stood still. They lowered their arms, shut their mouths, and waited with dazed stares.

  Nolan held his arms out at his sides as though unsure why they’d risen. He placed his mouth beside the mic. “I’m really sorry about tonight.”

  The crowd, as though under some type of collective hallucinogen, stared at him with understanding, no longer hostile but accepting of whatever had occurred.

  What had just happened? What convinced the spectators to abandon their anger and frustration in favor of a more receptive demeanor? The change was too abrupt, too unexpected to have occurred under ordinary circumstances. Something, or more likely, someone had somehow managed to brainwash the crowd. Since Nolan addressed them and they responded by awaiting further instruction, he must have tapped into an, until now, unknown ability to brainwash the masses on a wide scale. I could understand compelling a handful of individuals, but Nolan must have some serious magical ability to brainwash over one-hundred and fifty people!

  “If you can wait a few minutes,” Nolan told them. “I’ll go find out what’s going on.”

  Still unable to identify the mystery man, I wondered if the man was a shapeshifter. That made perfect sense until I questioned how he could have manipulated me to leave my body…when I’d learned only minutes before that doing so could result in my death. I thought back to the moment the man entered the storage closet ahead of Celestina. Then I realized something: Celestina appeared to see him, but Brandon didn’t acknowledge his existence.

  No human could rush out of the building so quickly with me hot on his trail, only to vanish without catching my attention. If he was a vampire, he would have had to knock people out of the way, causing a disruption, but that hadn’t happened. Perhaps he was a demon. For all I knew, each demon had different abilities. Unlike Nolan, I doubted all demons needed to get a power boost by touching an individual with supernatural powers. The potbellied man may have been a different type of demon, but demons had to reveal themselves by flashing their eyes black. That hadn’t happened.