The Vampire's Spell: The Hunted (Book 8)

by Lucy Lyons

  Peter interrupted her trip down memory lane with a tug on her coat sleeve. “Do you mind if we stop in here?”

  It was an antique shop whose windows were grimed over with years, maybe decades, of dust. Ashe didn’t know why Peter wanted to go in but she followed him inside anyway. At the very least it was a welcome break from the frigid winter air outside.

  There was an elderly woman at the counter making notes in a ledger book. She looked up and smiled when she noticed them in her shop.

  “You’re early,” she said, closing the book.

  “Sorry, I couldn’t wait,” he replied.

  She nodded her head towards Ashe. “Is this the girl?”

  “Yeah,” Peter replied. Ashe was completely lost, but as she neared the counter with Peter she noticed something striking about the woman’s smile. Her canines were much longer than the average human’s and they ended in sharp points. Ashe couldn’t help but stare.

  “Your fangs are showing,” Peter said, apparently noticing Ashe’s surprise.

  The woman tapped the eraser end of the pencil she was holding against a tooth. “These darned things won’t stay put. I think it’s the old age. They’re not the only things I can’t keep under control these days.” She winked at Ashe who smiled weakly back.

  The woman turned from the counter and started riffling loudly through boxes stacked behind her. Ashe whispered to Peter, “She’s a vampire!”

  Peter laughed. “What tipped you off?”

  Ashe felt foolish for having stated something so obvious but she was still apprehensive. Just how many vampires were living amongst humans and going about their daily lives with the constant thirst for human blood?

  Peter explained, “There are certain vampires that we call sentinels. They like to keep tabs on the comings and goings of our kind and function as a sort of network hub for people like us. Winnie here is one of them. She’s older than you could imagine and has connections all over the place. I was lucky to find her here, because not all cities have a sentinel.”

  The old woman, Winnie, came back to the counter with a small black box cradled in her hands. “He thinks he found me all on his own,” she said. “But he underestimates the power I wield. I called him here with my magic.”

  Peter laughed. “Say what you want, but I’m glad I found you. Is that it?” he said, pointing at the box.

  “Yes,” Winnie replied handing the box over to Peter. He lifted it to eye-level and opened it a crack. His grin grew even wider. Ashe was curious to see what was inside, and wondered if it had something to with the magic Winnie claimed to possess.

  Peter slipped the box in his pocket and turned to go.

  “Aren’t you going to pay?” Ashe asked him. It was a shop, after all.

  “I traded her earlier for an ugly old mirror that had been hanging in my house. I took off half the wall trying to pry it free, so I think she owes me much more than what’s in this box.”

  “What happened to your house isn’t my fault,” the old woman grumbles from behind the counter.

  “So, what’s in there anyway?” Ashe asked.

  “You’ll just have to wait,” Peter said and left the shop. Ashe hurried to follow him. She had an inkling that the item was meant for her, especially after the woman’s question when they had entered the shop. She felt bad that she hadn’t gotten anything for Peter, but she still had time to make it up before Christmas. She wondered what kind of gift a vampire could possibly want. Perhaps a century of holidays had dulled him to the excitement of receiving presents; she certainly hoped not.

  The snow was coming down more heavily now, obscuring the street and making Ashe wish she had worn something warmer. She clung tightly to Peter’s side as he led her along the sidewalk. He seemed to have somewhere in mind. Most people were ducking into shops to wait out the worst of the snow but Peter, impervious to the cold, marched on with Ashe by his side.

  Finally he stopped in the city square, an open expanse of cobblestone ringed by the city’s oldest buildings. In the center was a towering Christmas tree, its lights barely visible through the drifts of snow coming down. The colored ornaments hanging from its branches were quickly gaining a thick coat of snow. Ashe felt like she would be buried too if they stayed out there much longer.

  Peter pulled her toward the tree, with the insistence of a child, and she had no choice but to follow.

  “I’ve always hated Christmas,” he said as they stood in front of the twinkling tree. “But this year it finally means something. It means I get to spend time with you.”

  He pulled the box out of his pocket. The black was stark against the white snow already accumulating on its surface. He handed the box to Ashe. “What’s in here is something I honestly shouldn’t be giving to you. It’s an heirloom of my kind, impossibly valuable, and something that I can’t imagine anyone owning except you.”

  Curiosity piqued beyond measure, Ashe pried open the lid of the box with frozen fingers. Inside was a pair of earrings set with blood-red stones. The mere sight of them took her breath away. Even in the poor light of the sudden snow storm, the gems twinkled as if a fire was lighting them from within.

  “They belonged to a respected member of our clan who reigned as the matriarch for many decades in the Middle Ages. Any vampire who sees you in these will know you are spoken for, that you are under the protection of a very powerful family.”

  She didn’t know what to say. “Thank you,” she stammered, feeling like her words were inadequate.

  Peter took the earrings from the box and helped Ashe replace her black studs with them. Their weight was comfortable on her ears and she felt like she could almost sense an aura coming off them, like a wave that warmed her from the inside out. She pulled Peter down for a kiss. They stood in the center of the square for a long time, content in each other’s arms as the snow fell all around them.

  The wind blew the snow in little flurries around Peter’s feet as he walked up Ashe’s driveway. His sisters followed behind him, while his mother and father took up the rear. They were dressed in their best clothes, all except Penelope whom Peter had forced to put on something a little more modern. Agatha had helped him by taking her into the bathroom and pulling the pins out of her hair, letting her curls fall naturally about her shoulders. Peter was still immensely nervous about his family spending the holidays with Ashe’s, partly because vampires did not celebrate Christmas on principle. At least his oldest sister no longer looked like a Victorian corpse.

  Peter’s hand shook as he pressed the doorbell, but not from the cold. He could hear Christmas music playing inside and imagined he could smell the roasting turkey. The rest of his family dawdled on the walk up, even less eager for the awkward first exchanges.

  Ashe opened the door looking the same as ever, mostly in black and with a wry smile on her face. The only difference was the dark red earrings hanging from her earlobes.

  “You’re early,” Ashe said, giving him a hug as he came across the threshold. He could see that there was a fire going in the fireplace in the next room and a sharp smell of cinnamon lingered in the air. Ashe’s cheeks were rosy and she had flour dusting her nose. He brushed it off for her.

  “Cookies,” she said.

  “I think my family’s stuck in the driveway,” Peter said looking apologetically at Ashe. She pushed past him to the front door, where Vanessa and Agatha were standing sheepishly, looking at their feet.

  “You can come inside,” Ashe said holding the door open wide. “We haven’t put up the nativity this year, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

  Peter shot her a look and she shrugged. Ashe apparently didn't feel the same apprehension he did about this dinner and was already up to making jokes.

  The two women took tentative steps through the door, muttering thanks and apologies as they went inside. Penelope followed with a dark look on her face.

  “Wow, you look amazing,” Ashe said to her, though Peter noticed that Ashe instinctively touched the fading scars
on her neck as Penelope passed. Penelope only nodded curtly in response.

  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.”