by Megan Berry
“Why did my grandmother have you chained to a wall?” she fired back, but the vampire just shrugged, refusing to answer.
“All I’m saying is, you screamed when you saw the werewolf… why wouldn’t a vampire make you scream twice as loud?” he continued like she hadn’t just asked him a question, and Harper blinked at the man… no, vampire, she corrected herself. It still seemed too crazy to be true. He seemed so genuinely upset that she didn’t find him as terrifying as Mr. Bell that Harper briefly debated giving him a pity scream, but at this point it would probably just seem forced, and more importantly, it would hurt her head.
“How long was I unconscious?” she asked, trying to get past the terrifying hurdle that she was tucked into bed next to two supernatural killers—at least in books and movies they were killers. So far they hadn’t made any moves towards her.
Mr. Bell checked the alarm clock on the bedside table before replying. “About fifteen minutes.”
Harper was stunned. She’d never been knocked unconscious before in her life, so fifteen minutes seemed like an eternity to her right now. She glanced over at the vampire suspiciously—fifteen minutes wasn’t long enough to explain why he was looking so plump and healthy all of a sudden…
“Why do you look like that?” she asked, fear coming through her words, and the vampire grinned. Finally.
“I fed,” Jasper answered, liking the way her eyes bulged out of her head in fear. He could tell she was wondering if vampires really drank blood.
“Blood?” she stammered, and Jasper put forth his best effort to appear sinister as he nodded slowly.
Harper’s hands flew to her neck as she began to prod her skin, looking for puncture marks. She craned her neck to stare down at her body and let out a piercing wail that had all three of them grimacing in pain. “Did you suck my blood?” Harper managed to squeak out, and the vampire burst out laughing.
“I like you, you’re funny. Your gran wasn’t nearly as funny.” He saw her eyes bulge further when he failed to answer the question. “Of course not,” he sighed finally. “I used a blood of bag and a glass. I’m not a complete savage,” he stopped and looked sideways at Mr. Bell with a smirk “–not anymore anyway...”
Mr. Bell rolled his eyes at the vampire’s antics, and Harper stared down at her red-soaked shirt that was clinging to her torso like a second skin. “Why am I covered in blood then?” she demanded. She felt no pain, but maybe it was all part of a vampire’s thrall.
Jasper burst out laughing, unable to hold it back, and even Mr. Bell looked slightly uncomfortable. “That is not blood!” the vampire gasped, clutching his sides. “It’s your gran’s best cabernet sauvignon. You tripped and fell headfirst into an entire shelf of the stuff.”
The details of her fall suddenly came rushing back, and Harper blushed as red as the wine on her shirt. “Right,” she mumbled. She grabbed her pounding head and wished the pain would subside—it didn’t. “I still don’t understand how all of this is possible,” she said, needing to rehash it. She looked at Mr. Bell again, studying the worry lines on his face. “You’re a wolf,” she said baldly, and he nodded seriously, no hint of a joke on his face.
“Yes, and you are a witch,” he told her again, speaking slowly like she was a small child.
“And I’m a vampire,” Jasper quipped, sounding bored. “Now that we’ve all been introduced…” Harper and Keaton turned twin looks of disapproval on him and he sighed. “Fine. I hear your annoying little friend has just arrived. I’ll go let her in,” he told them with a huff and disappeared quicker than Harper’s eyes could follow.
“Who’s here?” Harper demanded, feeling a wave of fear at being left alone with Mr. Bell—not that a vampire is the ideal buffer against a werewolf anyway.
“I have asked Mallory over. She is bringing some things from your gran’s… your apothecary. It will help with the pain in your head.” Harper blinked.
“Is Mallory a witch too?” she asked, and Mr. Bell shook his head.
“Witches are actually quite rare. You are the only one in town. Mallory is a vampire.”
Harper felt her head spin at that little tidbit. “But I thought vampires couldn’t be in the sun?” she questioned, remembering Mallory taking her to view Gran’s store earlier.
Mr. Bell smiled gently. “That is just folklore, made up by Hollywood and bored authors. You will find a lot of discrepancies between fiction and reality the deeper you delve into your gift.”
Harper wanted to ask more questions, but Mallory was suddenly standing in the doorway looking hesitant. “Are you okay?” she asked, and Harper nodded, even though it hurt her head. Mallory took a step closer, watching Harper closely for any sign of fear.
“This whole thing is a bit surreal,” Harper admitted, giving Mallory a weak smile that seemed to reassure her of her welcome. Mallory smiled tremulously.
“You’ll be okay,” she promised, rushing over to Harper’s bedside like an overeager puppy.
Harper was surprised, but she didn’t feel any fear when she looked at the smiling young woman she had met earlier that day.
“I brought you some potions left over from your gran that will help,” Mallory said, pulling a brown paper bag from her purse and setting three small glass vials out on the bed.
“What is it?” Harper asked, eying them skeptically.
“This first one is to help heal your concussion,” Mallory said, pouring it into a small Styrofoam cup that she had also brought with her. “This is to help with the pain, and the third is just to help you relax so you will be able to process all of this without terror being your main emotion.” She dumped the rest of the potions into the cup and topped it off with a splash of ginger ale. “And some ginger to tie it all together,” she said with a wink at Harper.
Harper picked the cup up and sniffed it suspiciously. It smelled rich with herbs that Harper couldn’t identify, and it bubbled slightly, which she also found a little concerning.
“Maybe you guys should just take me to the doctor,” she said, but Mallory shook her head.
“The medical way will mean a much longer healing time, and it won’t be nearly as affective,” she took the cup from Harper’s lips and swallowed a small sip to prove to her that she hadn’t poisoned it. “Once mixed, you only have a few minutes before the concoction will be rendered useless,” she urged, pressing the cup to Harper’s lips.
Harper was so weak that she could do nothing more than swallow down the sweet, syrupy liquid that poured down her throat. The ginger ale had an odd taste, but it wasn’t exactly unpleasant.
Harper felt a buzzing in her skull as soon as she’d swallowed it, and a wave of pain streaked through her temple, blooming behind her eyes until she thought her head was going to explode. She let out a small shriek of pain and clutched her head. Almost instantly, a warm feeling washed along in its wake and erased any memory of the pain.
Mallory winced. “Sorry about that. I should have mixed it in the order the potions were needed, pain management first… your gran was really the one that did most of this stuff.” She sent Harper an apologetic look, but Harper waved it away. The pain was gone and it was a miracle. Harper stared up at the three people staring anxiously back at her and smiled. They didn’t seem as terrifying anymore, though her brain still warned her to be cautious. She was more curious than anything else.
“So…I’m really a witch?” she asked them, just to double check, and all three of them nodded. Harper struggled to sit up, and Mallory was beside her in an instant to help her. She didn’t even hesitate before taking the vampire’s hand. Harper was actually able to sit up this time without any dizziness or nausea. “That really worked fast!” Harper exclaimed as she sat with her feet swung off the edge of the bed.
“Your gran was the most skilled potion maker I’ve ever seen,” Mr. Bell said, and the two vampires nodded in agreement. Harper felt a small swell of pride, of course she was.
“I think I’m ready to stand up now,” Harper announ
ced and was surprised when nobody argued. Mallory helped her to her feet. After a couple short, shuffling steps, Harper had her balance back and felt as good as new.
“This is really crazy,” Harper told them with a grin, and Jasper blinked, surprised by the complete change to her attitude.
“How much of that relaxer did you give her?” he asked Mallory with a grin, and Mallory held up her thumb and finger to show just a little bit—though Harper didn’t miss the considerable widening of her fingers when she thought Harper had looked away.
Harper realized that they were all assembled, not in the guest bedroom, but in her gran’s bedroom. Harper glanced around at the antique framed iron bed and the large cheval mirror with the hand carved roses in the frame.
“Let’s go downstairs,” she suggested, her throat tightening as she took a deep huff of the baby powder scent that reminded her vividly of her gran.
Everything was still the same downstairs, the scorched letter and the spell book were spread out all over the dining room table, and the devil ring was still snugly around her finger. Harper stared at the ring with interest, but the potion had taken away the fear.
“How long is this going to last?” Harper asked, pointing to herself.
“The spells last for twelve hours once the potion is consumed. That should be enough time to heal your concussion… I don’t want to tell you what to do, but you should use the time to familiarize yourself with your magic. It will be easier to take once everything wears off,” Mallory seemed to know exactly what she was talking about. She gave Harper a supportive smile, and Harper smiled back.
“I think we should all be going...” Mr. Bell said, clearing his throat, and Mallory nodded.
“Call if you need anything,” Mallory told her on her way out. Mr. Bell just nodded, and then only Jasper was left, reclining on the living room couch.
Harper stood with the door wide open and cleared her throat, motioning to the great outdoors beyond.
“What?” Jasper asked, being purposely thick.
“You’re free. I assume you won’t be pressing charges—since my grandmother has passed…” Harper stood there awkwardly for a moment before babbling to fill the awkward silence. “I apologize for what she put you through, but you can go…please.”
Jasper let out a laugh that made Harper feel uneasy. “I’m not going anywhere. I live here.”
Shock made Harper bite her tongue for a second, but only for a second. “I don’t think so—” she told him with a shake of her head as she crossed her arms over her chest in annoyance.
Jasper looked at her as if judging if she was messing with him or not. “Oh joy. You really don’t know,” he said sarcastically, turning off the TV and setting down the remote. He patted the sofa cushion beside him. Harper stared at it for a moment before shutting the door with a sigh. She ignored the couch entirely and grabbed the chair she had previously been using to keep the ‘possum’ in the basement and sat down.
“Well, this is a bit awkward, but here it is. I’ve lived here with Elizabeth for the last forty years—I have a coffin in the basement if you want to go check,” he said defensively, and Harper stared at him in surprise.
“I don’t understand,” she said at last, and Jasper sighed.
“Years ago I was sentenced to death by the paranormal council in this town. Your gran secretly intervened on my behalf and was assigned to carry out my imprisonment instead. I was a bit of a wild card back then,” he flashed Harper a grin, and Harper suddenly became a bit more afraid of him. What could he possibly have done to get sentenced to death? “You’re scared of me now,” he said, and it wasn’t a question. Harper nodded; there was no point in lying.
“Yes,” she confirmed.
Jasper pointed to the moonstone on Harper’s finger and Harper stared down at it, wondering what it had to do with anything. Jasper didn’t fail to notice the way she had started edging her chair away from him. “Don’t worry. She spelled that ring so I can’t hurt you as long as you wear it.” Harper looked down at the devil ring on her finger in surprise. “If you die, so do I.”
“This ring is protecting me...from you?” she asked, and Jasper nodded.
“These days you don’t need the protection, I’m just a big old pussy cat,” he flashed his fangs at her and, despite the potion, Harper shivered. “There were a few times back in the day when I tried to get the jump on dear old Gran,” he smiled sardonically. “She kicked my ass six ways from Sunday,” he admitted, and Harper had to giggle a little at the image of her tiny gran landing a roundhouse kick against the handsome vampire’s face.
“She wasn’t old when I was first imprisoned,” he added, like he knew what Harper was thinking. “It was the year after your Granddad died, and Deacon had just left home. I think she was lonely more than anything…” Jasper sighed and actually looked a little sad for a minute before he carefully wiped all expression from his face. “You inherited the ring. You inherited me,” he finished, and Harper made a face.
“But I don’t want to inherit you!” she yelped. “No offense…” Jasper held up his hand as though to wave away the insult.
“None taken. I’m not exactly thrilled about getting shackled to you either,” he huffed. “You’re a witch, but your body is still as vulnerable as any other weak human being. Any little thing could snuff you out, and then I’d be pushing up daisies right beside you.”
Harper sat for a while, digesting the barrage of information. “What would happen if I just took the ring off?” she asked, and Jasper shook his head.
“I would wither away and die within a week. I’m tied to your life force and the ring must be on your finger to feel your pulse.”
Harper was not thrilled with his answer. “Do you have a family member… could I give the ring to one of them to wear?” she suggested, grasping at straws.
“I’m a 658-year-old vampire. I have no family left, they’ve been dead for hundreds of years.” Harper’s face fell. What a sad existence that would be. “Besides, it wouldn’t work, that ring can only be worn by a Jones Witch. If you attempt to take it off or give it away to anyone else, I will die.” Harper nervously twisted at the ring on her finger, and Jasper’s eyes followed the movement like a hawk.
“I can’t get it off anyway,” Harper admitted, tugging to show him, and Jasper let out a small sigh of relief.
“What about…” Harper started to suggest, and Jasper rolled his eyes.
“I’ve told you. There is no way around it!” he snapped, but Harper ignored him and carried on anyway.
“Could I reverse the spell?” she asked. She instinctively knew that she was onto something when Jasper sat up straighter in his chair.
“You know what, I think you could,” he said, starting to look excited. He was off of the couch and in front of her so quickly that she let out a yelp of surprise.
“Don’t do that!” Harper said, clutching her chest. “You’ll give me a heart attack and kill us both!”
“You would do that for me?” he asked earnestly, staring into her eyes, and Harper blinked.
“Sure. I don’t see why not,” she said, shoving her chair back a bit. She was starting to get uncomfortable with the vampire’s lack of personal space.
“I could kiss you right now!” Jasper said with a huge grin, and Harper frowned.
“Please don’t.”
Jasper rubbed his hands together in excitement. “I was speaking hypothetically,” he assured her. “When do you want to get started?” he asked, and Harper shrugged.
“Why not right now? The sooner the better,” she told him, and his face split into one of the largest grins she’d ever seen in her life. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it,” she told him and watched the smile melt from his face.
Jasper froze, his heart sinking along with the first thread of hope he’d had in forty years. “You don’t know how to perform the spell?” he asked, and Harper shook her head.
“Of course not. I only found out I was a wit
ch this afternoon.” Jasper stood up suddenly from where he had been leaning in towards her and tossed her a dirty look.
“It won’t work then. A spell like that would take years of experience. You probably don’t possess enough magic in your entire body right now to boil a pot of water,” he groused as he used his vampire speed to zip away so fast that her eyes couldn’t follow his movements. Harper heard a door slam in the basement and winced. He obviously hadn’t left for good; he’d just gone to his room like some sort of sullen, bloodsucking teenager.
Harper took a deep breath before going into the kitchen to make herself a hot cup of tea. She’d always found tea to be soothing, and she definitely could use a cup now. What was the point of being a witch if she couldn’t get rid of one vampire squatter?
Harper stirred her tea and wondered how her life had gone from being nice and average—borderline boring—to believing she was a witch, seeing a werewolf transform in her basement, and somehow getting shacked up with a 658-year-old vampire with an attitude problem?
Harper blew on her tea and picked the singed letter off the table to read it one more time. It, of course, had no mention of Jasper. Gran could never make it that easy.
Crap.
Chapter Five
The more Harper read, the more surreal everything got. The spell book was old and worn, with authentic leather bindings that seemed to suggest it was from a bygone era. Harper traced her finger across the thick parchment pages and squinted—despite the potion, she was starting to get a bit of a headache—though it had nothing to do with the concussion. All of the spells were in Latin. Of course, it could never be as simple as bippity, boppity, boo.
Harper pulled out her phone and downloaded a translation app. The first spell in the book that she flipped to was for…boiling water. Harper thought about Jasper’s taunt and snorted. Unbelievable. “I guess we will see, won’t we?” she muttered as she quickly filled a pot of water before she could lose her nerve. She set the pot on the stove element, just to be safe, then she nervously chewed her lip as she examined the spell: