Then had come his brother’s death, a murder that Terian had been sure was the work of the vampire turned entrepreneur, Danial Racklan. Blinded to the danger by rage, Terian has kidnapped Danial’s lover Sarelle, and challenged the bloodsucker to a fight. He’d expected to win and be vindicated...or to lose and be put out of his misery. Instead, Danial had hurt him with a blow Terian had never seen coming: that he was not a dhamphir—a half-vampire—as he’d always thought, but instead a bastard mix of human and demon. The blessed blade Danial had used hadn’t cut deeply, but the scar still graced Terian’s cheek. It was the first wound he’d ever had that hadn’t immediately healed.
Sarelle had helped him escape certain death that night. Her kindness had been a surprise, especially as she was afraid of him like most humans were. After Terian had driven away, he’d headed to the closest church. Keriam had never been religious at all; it was his first time being near one. And “near” was as close as Terian could manage; he could not cross onto the grounds of the church, much less go inside.
He stood for a while on the sidewalk, looking at the brick structure forlornly.
“You aren’t doomed just because you can’t go in,” a solemn voice said from behind him.
Terian turned. A priest stood there, hands in his coat pockets. “Who are you?” he said, letting out some of anger, wanting to see the priest cringe away from the feelings of dread his violent emotions always evoked in others.
“Control yourself,” the man ordered. “Or you’ll make me think I’m wasting my time on you.”
Terian took a step back, forcing himself to be calm with deep breaths.
“Better,” the man allowed. “My name is Father Ben. I used to be a priest with a human flock.” He took a card and handed it to Terian. “Now I tend the larger flock that’s scattered.” There was something sad about his smile, though it was genuine. “I’ve found they need a friend the most.”
Dr. Stephen Camlyn. “This is a doctor’s card,” Terian said skeptically, turning the card over to view office hours listed on the back. Odd. Half the hours listed were mornings, the rest early evenings.
“A doctor who treats supernatural beings of all kinds. He can show you how to hide your eyes behind special colored contacts that can withstand the natural heat of your body. The fees are reasonable.” The priest handed him one more card. “Call Colin, too. He can help you adjust, give you a purpose.”
“I don’t need anyone to give me a purpose,” Terian said, flashing his pointed teeth.
“You have no morality. You have taken human lives.”
Was he guessing, or did he know about Alexa? Only ones that killed other people I loved.”
“You can pledge to fight evil, or become it,” the priest said portentously. “Only you can make the choice, demon.”
Terian looked at the card. This had been more what he’d expected. The card was swirled purple clouds, the name Colin Underwood in metallic blue in neat print across the front. But instead of some hype about paranormal investigations or magic, it said, “Existence Coach.” Across the back in the same metallic blue was the phrase, “You get one lifetime. Make the most of it.”
Terian was tempted to rip the card in two. He’d already lived a human’s lifetime, and looked only 20 years old, at most. What could this man hope to teach him?
“To lighten up, for starters,” a mirthful voice said behind him.
Terian whirled, then struck out with his fist. The man evaded him effortlessly. Terian murmured the words to the only attack spell he knew, calling up the shadows from around him to cloak him in a living cover of darkness. The man’s eyes widened, then he murmured words, making his hands into fists, then snapping them open, throwing a still-forming shimmering silver ball of light toward Terian. The light smashed into his shadows, scattering them to leave him revealed before it faded.
“What do you want?” Terian growled, drawing his boot knife.
The man held up his hands in supplication. “Not to fight.” He laughed. “That’s my card you’re holding. I’m Colin. I felt your wish. I’ve built a sort of homing device into the cards, so I can teleport to anyone who holds a card.” He put his hands down, some of his levity leaving him. “Sometimes even that’s too long.”
“What can you hope to teach me?” Terian said bitterly. “I already know really well how the world works, Colin. I don’t need any happy bullshit.”
“To teach you hope,” Colin said, offering Terian his hand. “And maybe a few more defensive spells, not that Calling Shadows is lightweight.”
“You foiled it easily enough,” Terian said sullenly, not making a move.
“Because I’ve studied magic, specifically defensive spells, for close to a hundred years,” Colin replied. “That isn’t a common spell, so most people wouldn’t know the rebuttal. Who taught you?”
“A witch,” Terian admitted grudgingly. “She knew I was different, and she was nice to me. She taught me all the magic I know.”
“Was she your mother?”
Terian shook his head. “My mother died giving birth to me. I never knew my father. My only family was my brother. He died less than a month ago.”
“I can teach you more spells,” Colin offered. “I have more than a few tomes you are welcome to borrow, if you’re interested. It’s all white magic.”
A crow scolded harshly from the trees above him, shaking Terian out of his reminiscing. He pulled his coat around his shoulders, then moved off toward his truck. There would be time enough for pondering what his next move would be on the road. Right now, he had to get out of New York State before Theo caught up with him. That werecougar friend of Danial’s would kill him if he had the chance.
Terian started his truck, then plotted a route west. Theo likely wouldn’t pursue him beyond the boundaries of New York state, his boss Danial’s territory. Danial wanted Terian dead, because of his friendship with Sarelle. Sar had saved Terian’s life that night he’d fought with Danial. She’d repaid his holding her hostage with kindness instead of the killing blow he’d expected.
She doesn’t love you. She never did.
Sar had risked a lot to help him. Terian had returned her kindness by telling her of Danial’s secret request for two expensive potions. Demon blood was an expensive ingredient needed for its creation. Half-demon blood was a less expensive option, but needed to be doubled when used in spellwork as a replacement for full-demon blood. Terian thought darkly that he could sell his blood and never have to make another potion himself, if he was inclined.
Sar had brushed his warning about complicated potions aside, refusing to believe Danial was up to no good. When she’d discovered too late her vampire had hoped to start his own immortal family with her as mom, she’d left Danial. Terian had also discovered Danial’s plans, and known he had to warn her. He’d found Sar at her old home that New Year’s Eve, distraught and mourning a broken heart. To cheer her, he’d given her a late Christmas present of magical wings. She’d been so happy. She’d never suspected he’d laced the spell with a bit of extra magic.
You’re as much a liar as Danial ever was.
I needed to know, Terian thought defensively. I needed to know if she could love me.
Sar is good. You’re evil. She couldn’t love you. That’s why Sundown couldn’t love you either.
Sundown had been an exotic dancer Terian had stumbled across when he stopped to get some food late one night. Her long dirty blond hair was a ringer for Sar’s, even if her personality was completely different. They’d briefly dated and lived together. But as much as Sundown craved the stability of a relationship, her distrust of men was deep. Terian had asked her to commit and Sundown had refused, her learned ferocity lashing out in cruelty.
“Don’t you care about me?” he’d said in a small tentative voice.
“It was just sex to me, like I’ve had with dozens of men.”
Terian had known she was lying. His supernatural hearing was acute enough to hear her inside crying as he
drove away with his stuff. But he also couldn’t heal someone so broken, not without their cooperation. Colin had taught him that.
“Without hope, you are doomed, Terian. Life is hope. If you want to survive, you have to believe that things can get better.”
There was nothing left for him here. It was time to leave, to go far away West, like he’d planned a few months ago. Colin’s home base was in Denver. Terian needed a fresh shot of hope about now.
* * * *
“There is no comfort in deep-rooted pain,” a feminine voice said gently, breaking the silence of the library. “Remembering the past won’t heal wounds, it will only keep them fresh.”
Terian looked up into deep blue eyes. A beautiful woman stood above him, her long black hair in a glossy braid over one shoulder. Her expression was sincere.
“You’re a sorceress,” he stated.
The woman nodded. “My name is Monica Remmin. And you are?”
Was this a friend of Colin? How had she found him, when Colin didn’t know yet that Terian had even arrived? “Terian.”
“No last name? Or is that you’re working name?”
“Let’s say it will suffice for now,” Terian said, rubbing his eyes. “Did you come to kick me out of the library?”
Monica smiled. “No. I think you have another hour before they close. I wanted to say hello and ask if you want to join my coven.”
Terian looked at her, bemused. “You must sense what I am. Are you sure?” He let his lips part, giving her a glimpse of his many rows of pointed demon teeth.
Monica’s smile faltered a little. “I take it that you’ve been looking for answers. I got word that a half-demon was coming this way with a propensity for trouble.”
“I’m not here for trouble,” Terian said hastily.
“But it follows you, doesn’t it?” Monica prodded. “You’ve stayed on the move because of what you attribute to bad luck.” She leaned closer. “But it’s not bad luck, Terian. It’s a revenant on your tail.”
Terian shook his head in disbelief. “That’s bullshit. I’ve lived for seventy-five years and never seen a ghost.”
“That doesn’t mean they haven’t seen you,” she said darkly. She held out a card with an address on it. “Come tonight to my home. I think I can help you.”
What was it with people wanting to help him handing him business cards? “Why would you help me?” Terian said, making no move to take the card. “When everyone else I meet usually wants me to keep moving?”
“Because there is more to you than you know,” Monica said cryptically. “And I’m meant to help you.” She moved to walk away, but Terian leaped up, grabbing her by the hand and yanking her backward. His red eyes bored into hers, the color flooding through his concealing contact lenses. Evil permeated the room, making Monica shiver even as she tried to hold still.
“Tell me and don’t lie,” Terian growled, showing his rows of pointed teeth as persuasion. “I’ve had enough lies. What do you want with me?”
“I had a vision of you,” Monica stammered. “That’s it! I do a spell every New Year’s, and ask for guidance for the following year. It showed me several people I knew, and one stranger. You were the stranger. So when I saw you here I knew I had to come over and find out who you were...even sensing what you are.”
Terian loosened his grip on her. Monica pulled away, straightening up.
“I don’t understand.”
“Visions are usually puzzles,” Monica said, irritation distinct in each clipped word. “With the other people, I know what I’m supposed to do, because I know them. But with you, I have no idea.”
Terian studied her, wondering how much to believe her. Monica gave every indication that she was on the level. But was she?
“Come tonight,” Monica said again. “Please. No one wants to hurt you here.” She turned and walked quickly away.
Terian watched her go, then looked down at the card she’d managed to slip into his hand. He’d go, just to see what kind of witches Monica kept company with.
* * * *
Monica’s base of operations was nothing like the witch’s lair Terian expected. Her small brick home was cozy with plentiful flowers, and the small one-level red barn at the back had been completely modernized into one plain white room and a set of bathrooms. He sat at a large conference table with twenty other men and women in their early twenties and thirties, most of whom were in casual dress.
“Good, we’re all here,” Monica said cheerfully. “Please everyone, welcome Terian, who is here by my invitation tonight.”
Most of the people murmured a greeting, which Terian returned awkwardly.
The rest of the night was forgettable. Terian would have left after the first ten minutes, but he hadn’t wanted to call attention to himself. All these “spellcasters” were of amateur level; young wives trying to win back their straying husbands through love spells, and men with goals of finding a way to beat the odds at gaming tables. Terian left the vapid discussion as soon as he was able. As he walked out, a shadow descended on him, floating ghostlike through the air. At first, he was entertained, thinking it to be some trick of Monica’s to impress him into staying. But as it reached him, a sharp odor of lilacs reached him. He fell to his knees, trying to breathe and found his air was constricted. He lashed out with power, and a supernatural shriek rent the air. The scent thickened, then a veil of darkness descended as Terian fell prostrate on the ground.
Keriam was lying on the floor, his face a twisted grimace of pain, his hands claws that had ripped out tufts of carpet as he’d writhed in pain. With a scream, Terian ran to him, gathering the lifeless body to him. Loss and loneliness crashed down on him.
“No!”
There was nothing he could do. He was too late again, too late to save his brother, too late, always too late...
A sharp crack of a gunshot echoed loud in Terian’s ears. Then there was the sound of guttural swearing. Terian felt a hand in his. He roused himself just in time to be pulled to his feet by a man who had the same brown hair and facial features as Colin, yet his eyes were as red as Terian’s.
“Demon or not, your ass is going to be toast if you don’t learn to let things go,” the man said grumpily. “Didn’t Colin teach you not to dwell on your pain?”
“You’re Colin’s brother,” Terian said in astonishment.
“You’re a bright one,” the man said with sarcasm, though he smiled. “Half-brother, as you of all people can probably tell. I’m Balt.”
What the hell was he supposed to say? Commiserating on their shared demon lineage seemed just as bad as saying that it didn’t matter. “Yes,” Terian managed.
“Colin told me to expect you,” Balt continued, “He’s waiting for us, if you’re ready to leave. Unless you want that ghost to come back and finish tearing you up.”
“Let’s go,” Terian said, relieved.
Balt took Terian back to a small chain hotel with an attached restaurant on a seedy street of bars, strip clubs, and small motels. Colin was there at the hotel bar, nursing a drink and talking to a tall knockout of a woman dressed in red. She shot Terian a smile as she left. He didn’t return it, averting his eyes.
“Sit down,” Colin told him, motioning to the bartender. “Bring a beer for my brother and another scotch for me. Terian, what do you want?”
“Nothing,” Terian said flatly.
“Bring him a vodka,” Balt said over his protest. “He can’t bitch about it if he can’t taste the alcohol. I’m going to hit the head.”
The bartender brought the drinks in a few minutes, while Terian filled Colin in on what had happened since their last meeting.
“Why did you do that to Sar?” Colin asked, clearly disappointed. “I didn’t loan you those books to use them like that. I’ve told you before that you can’t force people.”
“I wasn’t forcing her to do anything,” Terian argued.
“You’re magic made her give voice to emotions she didn’t want to talk ab
out,” Colin stated. “That’s force.”
“I just wanted to know how she felt, so I could decide to stay or leave.”
“She told you she was in a relationship with another man. Wasn’t that cause enough to leave?”
Terian didn’t answer.
“It’s the demon part of you that will want to control people,” Colin warned. “Demons like power. They like to make things happen.”
“My intentions were good ones.”
Colin gave Terian a scathing look. “Do I really have to tell you the old saying about good intentions?”
Balt sat down on the stool next to them, taking a long drink of his beer. “I see he’s giving you the usual upbeat pep talk. Ignore him. It works for me.”
“I’m warning him, because someone had to,” Colin said grumpily. “And you’d be better off if you were less flippant about your own situation.”
“You’d be better off teaching him a little more magic to defend himself,” Balt retorted emphatically. “That ghost last night might have killed him, if I hadn’t stopped by to drop off those books to Monica for you.”
“Who is she?” Terian said, eager to turn the conversation away from himself. “She made herself out to be a sorceress, but she’s more like a poseur.”
“She’s just young,” Balt said brusquely, surprising Terian with his defensive tone. “She can do minor spells like make illusions, and she’s a fair healer. She’s got the talent for becoming a sorceress to be reckoned with.”
“But she cares a little too much about the romance of magic,” Colin added. “She’s another one that doesn’t see her own vulnerability.”
“If you’re afraid all the time of bad things happening, how are you supposed to enjoy your life?” Balt countered, sounding irritated. He got up and stalked away.
“Don’t mind him,” Colin said. “He’s sweet on Monica, if you hadn’t noticed.” His tone turned concerned. “But he’s right that you need to worry about this ghost. Most don’t have enough power to kill a half-demon, but they’ll make you suffer. Next time use a dissipation spell. You hit it with that a few times and it’ll leave you alone for good.”
Promise Me Anthology Page 21