I followed her, noting that I had obviously gotten her out of bed. She was wearing a long nightshirt with Tweety Bird printed on it and purple and black striped socks. Tweety was saying, “I taught I taw a puddy tat!” Again, not very witchlike—but who was I to say how witches had to dress for bed? Besides, right now I was more concerned with vampires.
“Tell me about the stake,” I said as soon as we sat down on the creaky old swing. “What is it doing to Corbin? What’s wrong with him?”
She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. “There is such a thing as client/witch confidentiality. And Alec Corbin is strong enough to tear me apart if he finds out I told you something he doesn’t want you to know.”
“He won’t touch you,” I promised. “I, on the other hand…” I poked the stake at her again and she flinched. “You’re going to tell me everything,” I said. “And start at the beginning.”
She sighed. “Fine. It’ll be too late for him to do anything to me soon anyway.”
That sent a cold chill down my spine but I simply nodded at her. “Go on.”
“He came to me about a week ago—the night before you saw me, actually. He said he wanted something to kill a vampire. A really old and powerful one.”
“And what did you tell him?” I asked, thinking that Corbin must have gone directly to see her after our second encounter where he had “healed” me.
She shrugged. “I told him it was impossible, of course. Vamps that old are really hard to kill.”
“Tell me about it,” I muttered. “But he used this stake to kill one—I saw it with my own eyes. How did he do it?”
She looked uncomfortable. “I spelled it for him. The only way to kill a vamp that old is with a major sacrifice. So, well…”
“So what?” I insisted, frowning at her. “What did you do?”
Gwendolyn looked at me angrily. “It’s dark magic, all right? I shouldn’t have done it—Grams would die if she knew. But I needed what he was offering too much to turn him down.”
“Which was?”
She sighed. “A vial of his blood. Do you know how powerful four hundred year old vampire blood is? The spells you can work with it, the revenge you can take—”
“Okay, I’m not interested in hearing how you used Corbin’s blood to get back at the nasty cheerleaders from high school who were mean to you,” I snapped. “Just tell me about the sacrifice part of it—that doesn’t sound good.”
“It’s not,” she snapped back. “It’s ugly all the way around. I told him it would be fatal but he said he didn’t care. That it had to be done to protect the one he loved.”
“Fatal?” I almost put a hand to my heart and then remembered I was holding the hateful stake. “What are you talking about, fatal?”
“The sacrifice is a life for a life,” Gwendolyn explained slowly, as though she was speaking to a two year old. “The only way he could kill the other vamp was by giving up his own life to do it.”
“Oh God…” I remembered how Corbin had stabbed Roderick with the stake and then stabbed himself with it as well. “So he what…he gave the stake Roderick’s blood and then his own?”
Gwendolyn nodded. “That’s how it works. Once the stake has tasted the blood of the victim and the blood of the killer, it takes the victim at once and the killer more slowly.”
“So Corbin’s dying?” I couldn’t believe it—didn’t want to believe it. It couldn’t be true—it just couldn’t.
But the witch was nodding her head. “Yeah, he is. In fact, I’m sort of surprised he’s lasted this long.”
“What?” I wanted to strangle her. “You mean he’s going to die now?”
“Well, probably not tonight.” She looked at the stake which was lying in my lap, still partially wrapped in my jacket. “I’d say from the color of the blood on the runes he has at least one more night.” She looked up at me. “So at least you have time to say goodbye.”
“You listen to me…” I grabbed her by the front of her Tweety Bird night shirt and yanked her close, shoving my face into hers. “I’m not saying goodbye to Corbin. I’m not saying goodbye because you are going to fix this.”
She pulled away from my grip, a pissed off look on her delicate features.
“Keep your voice down! I can’t fix it—it’s dark magic. A binding spell.”
“Well, unbind it,” I demanded. “Look, you said it had to do with sacrifice, right? What would happen if I…” I took a deep breath and looked down at the stake in my lap. “If I shoved it into my chest too?”
“What do you think would happen if you shoved a stake in your heart? You’d die,” she said flatly. “The stake has already done its magic—there’s no reversing it that way.”
“Well how can you reverse it?” I shouted. “Damn it, there must be a way!”
“What in the world is going on out here?” Suddenly a white haired old lady wrapped in a faded blue bathrobe came out the front door. She had creamy brown skin a shade darker than Gwendolyn's and looked to be in her seventies but her eyes were sharp. “Gwendolyn Marie LaRoux,” she said, hobbling toward us. “I asked you a question, what is going on?”
“Nothing, Grams.” Gwendolyn suddenly looked guilty and much younger than her actual age of twenty-five.
“I can see that’s not the truth, Gwendolyn.” The old lady’s sharp eyes suddenly fell on the stake still lying on my lap. “Oh, no,” she breathed, shaking her head. “Who is responsible for this? Gwendolyn, what did you do?”
“I did what I had to do.” Gwendolyn crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin. “He’s a really old vampire and I needed what he offered, Grams. If we’re ever going to get vengeance—”
Her grandmother sighed heavily. “Child, how many times do I have to tell you to let it go? The world turns on and the Goddess takes her due. He’ll get what’s coming to him.”
“Excuse me,” I interrupted. “I don’t know why she did it and I don’t care but it seems your granddaughter has given a man I care for the means to kill himself.” I nodded down at the stake. “Now, she’s claiming there’s no way to reverse the spell but if you’re a witch too—”
“I am.” The old lady nodded in a stately way. “I am the leader of our coven.” She glared at Gwendolyn. “Which happens to be devoted to white magic.”
Gwendolyn shot me a dirty look. “I’m sorry, Grams, but white magic wasn’t going to get this job done.”
Her grandmother shook her head. “You’ve given the darkness a hold in your heart, child—you've put your foot over the threshold of the Shadow Lands. Don’t you remember the rule of seven? You’ll have this come back on you seven times as bad as what you’ve done sometime in the future.”
“She’s going to get it back right now if somebody doesn’t tell me how to save Corbin,” I snarled. “I mean it, lady, I want answers and I want them yesterday.”
“Let me see it.” The old lady held out her hand for the stake and I gave it to her, wincing when I saw it touch her bare flesh. She held it carefully, as though it was a snake she wasn’t quite sure was dead, and examined it.
“A soul eater,” she said at last and gave her granddaughter another piercing look. “You made him a soul eater to use. Gwendolyn, how could you?”
Gwendolyn shrugged, looking guilty. “It was what he wanted.”
“A soul eater—that’s what it’s called? How exactly does it work?” I asked anxiously.
“It killed his enemy and now it’s slowly eating away at his life force—his soul,” the old lady said. “When it finishes sucking away the last little bit, he’ll die.”
Hearing the old lady confirm Corbin’s fate was almost more than I could take. I had been hoping against hope that she was a more powerful and experienced witch than Gwendolyn, that she would tell me everything was going to be all right. But now…
“I don’t want him to die. He can’t die.” I felt hot, helpless tears rising to my eyes and rubbed them away angrily. “He can’t because…because I
love him.”
As I said the words I knew them to be true. All the things I had told myself, all the reasons I had given about why Corbin and I couldn’t be together were a load of bullshit. Now that I knew he was dying—really dying—I realized that I loved him. That I wanted to be with him, even if it meant giving up my job and my family.
But now it was probably too late.
“Please,” I said to the old lady. “Please, you have to help me. Help me to help him. Reverse this—do something.”
“I’m afraid there’s nothing to be done, child.” Her voice was gentle and her eyes were sad.
“But there has to be,” I whispered. “He…he did this for me.” I looked at Gwendolyn. “Didn’t you say he told you he needed to do it to keep his loved one safe?”
Reluctantly, she nodded. “Yeah.”
“Well that’s me.” I pointed to myself. “He did it for me—to protect me from that asshole Roderick. He probably thought there was no other way so he…he killed himself. All because of me. And I told him…told him I didn’t love him. That I couldn’t be with him…”
Suddenly I was on the verge of a major breakdown. I kept seeing that fleeting look of sadness on Corbin’s face. How he’d said it was nice that I would miss him when he was gone. He had been giving me so many clues—how could I miss them all? And then, after he had sacrificed his long life for me, I turned him down. Rejected him. Told him I could never love him.
“He probably knew he only had about a week to live.” I was openly sobbing now. “He’s letting himself die for me and I treated him like shit.”
The old lady reached into the pocket of her robe and handed me a folded Kleenex. “There, there, child. So you say he made this sacrifice for love? Not for vengeance or hatred or any other dark purpose?”
I shook my head. “He did it for me. I’m sure of it. God, I’m such an idiot. I thought he was going on a trip or moving but he’s not—he’s dying. It was right in front of my face the whole time and I didn’t see it.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Gwendolyn muttered. “Sometimes the most obvious things are the hardest to see.”
“Don’t talk to me.” I shot her a glare. “I may be an idiot but you’re the one who gave him the way to do this. You helped him kill himself—hell, I hope you do get what’s coming to you seven times over.”
Her creamy cafe au lait skin went pale. “Are you cursing me?”
“If I could, I would,” I snapped. “Unfortunately I’m not a witch. I’m just a plain old stupid human and the vampire I love is about to die because I can’t do anything about it.” I looked at the old lady. “Can I?”
She shook her head. “The only way to break the soul eater’s hold on him would be with another sacrifice—an even greater one than he has already given.”
“But…” I swiped at my eyes. “But he gave his life—his life for me. How can I top that?”
“You can’t,” Gwendolyn said flatly. Her grandmother glared at her and she shrugged. “I’m sorry, Grams, but I don’t see how she can.”
The old lady sighed. “I don’t either but you could show a little compassion, Gwendolyn. It was by your hand this tragedy came about. Your magic did this—you should feel bad for this poor girl.”
“I’m sorry,” the younger witch muttered. “He acted like it was the only way to save you. I wouldn’t have done it otherwise.”
I shook my head and looked up at the old lady. “So…that’s it then? There’s nothing I can do? No way to heal him or save him?”
“I’m afraid not, child. A sacrifice this great—the sacrifice of a life—cannot be exceeded.”
“Fine. Thanks for nothing.” I got off the creaking porch swing and stumbled down the wooden steps, still half-blinded by tears.
Corbin was going to die—probably as soon as tomorrow night—and there was nothing I could do about it.
Chapter Twenty-two
I hadn’t been in my car for more than a minute when the radio squawked at me.
“Officer Godwin, we have a one-eight-seven-vee in your sector—do you copy?”
I thought about not answering but a 187 is homicide and the V tacked on at the end means vampire. Great, what I really needed right now was to see the gory remains of a vampire murder. I picked up the radio.
“Get another Auditor, dispatch. I’m not going to be able to make it.”
“Negative.” The girl on the other end sounded pissed. “There was a two-seventeen-vee at one of the glam-clubs in Town and Country a few minutes ago. No other Auditors are available. The PD is already on the scene—they’re waiting for you before they can proceed.”
Son of a bitch! I swiped angrily at my eyes and struggled to control myself. I wanted to tell the dispatcher and the whole rest of the world to fuck off and go back to Corbin that minute. But he hadn’t been too happy to see me before—not that I blamed him. Maybe he just wanted to die in peace and forget about me.
The thought made me want to break into a fresh round of sobbing but I knew I couldn’t afford to give in to myself like that. I had to go on—even if there was nothing to go on for. I was on duty and I’ve always had a very strict work ethic—I had to do my job. At least one more night.
But tomorrow I’m quitting, I told myself.
“Officer Godwin, do you copy?”
I picked up the radio again. “Give me the location. I’m on the way.”
* * * * *
The crime scene was a surprisingly nice upper middle class house in Carrolwood, one of the tonier areas in the Tampa Bay area. I parked and showed my badge to the uniform standing at the door.
“Up the stairs, second bedroom on the right,” he said with a jerk of his head.
“Thanks.” I climbed the stairs and walked down the hallway to the second bedroom. The air was heavy with the sweet, coppery smell of spilled blood. I crossed the yellow crime scene tape with a sinking feeling in my heart. I really didn’t need to see this—not tonight.
But as soon as I looked up, there it was.
The person on the bed—I really couldn’t tell if it had been a man or a woman, though I was betting on woman—had been torn limb from limb. I mean that literally too—one of the legs was lying in one corner. The rest of the limbs, along with the bloody, mauled remains of the torso, were still on the bed. The head…well, I didn’t see it. Maybe it had rolled under the bed or forensics had already bagged it up. There was blood spattered on the walls and sheets but not as much as you’d think considering the scene. Probably because most of it was inside the vamp who had done this. It was a gruesome sight and one I was unfortunately familiar with.
“Pretty ugly, huh?”
I turned to my left and saw Detective O’Meara from Homicide. I liked him—he never made the job into a pissing contest, unlike some of the other guys on the force who gave me shit because I could go after vamps and they couldn’t.
“What have we got?” I asked him, even though the crime scene was all spread in front of me like a picnic for hungry lions.
He sighed. “It’s a murder, all right. Looks pretty open and shut—the perp isn’t even trying to deny it.”
“He’s still here?” I asked in surprise. Most of the time after a vamp kills someone he skips town and we have to track him down later with a specially trained squad. The PD are instructed to just let them go—there’s no sense in trying to take down a being that can bench press a semi—you’ll get ripped in half. But a vamp that actually stayed…that was new.
“She—perp is a female name of Cynthia Torez,” O’Meara corrected me. “And yeah, she’s still here—she called it in herself.” He looked at me more closely. “Hey, you okay? You don’t mind me saying, you don’t look so good, Godwin.”
“Long story,” I said. “Where did you say she was?”
“She’s sobbing her fucking heart out downstairs in the living room. Swears it was an accident.” He shook his head. “I almost feel sorry for her.”
“Great,” I muttered.
Crap. Just what I needed—more crying. Like I hadn’t already done enough of it myself for one night. Still, I had a job to do. I took a deep breath and went back down the stairs in the direction he pointed me.
I heard her sobbing, low and heartbroken, well before I found my way into the lovely, well-appointed living room. She was sitting on a dark brown leather couch with her face buried in her hands and her shoulders shaking.
“Hey…” I touched her lightly on the arm and she jumped about a mile.
“Oh…” When she looked at me, her cheeks were smeared with bloody tears. “Who…who are you?” she whispered.
“I’m Officer Godwin—an Auditor,” I told her, meeting her eyes. “Want to tell me what happened here tonight, Cynthia?”
“I…it…he…” She shook her head and I could tell she was about to start bawling again.
“Hey.” I sat down beside her and put a hand on her arm. “It’s okay. Just take some deep breaths and do the best you can. Detective O’Meara upstairs says you told him it was an accident.”
“It was,” she burst out. “I swear I never meant to hurt him. I begged him not—I told him I couldn’t control myself but he wouldn’t listen…he wouldn’t listen.”
“Okay, start from the beginning.” I rubbed her arm soothingly. “You begged him not to what?”
“Not to cut himself and try to give me blood while we were…” She blushed. “You know.”
They shouldn’t have been “you knowing” in the first place but I was willing to bet she already knew that.
“So why did he do it, then?” I asked. Why would any human in their right mind do such a thing?
“Because he loved me.” She hung her head.
Oh. Well, that explained it, right there. It was the only sensible answer to a whole hell of a lot of stupid questions, it seemed to me. Still, I needed details.
“And he thought it would be, what, more romantic to do it like that? Both at the same time?” I asked blandly.
Cynthia shook her head. “No, he thought it would heal me.”
“Heal you of what—are you sick?”
Crimson Debt Page 23