The Sorceress Screams

by Anya Breton

  With my laptop atop my thighs, I scoured the Internet for antibody removal methods now that I knew what to look for. I quickly learned there was no rapid fix. The only methods I’d discovered required several lengthy treatments and special equipment I doubted Wipuk had. A hematologist was what I needed—one who was aware of the Underground and its factions.

  I sat chewing on my fingernails because I didn’t know how to proceed from here. How was it no one had ever tried to find a cure for enthrallment? Surely a vanilla human medical treatment wasn’t the answer to curing witches of a supernatural blood bond. It couldn’t be that easy.

  In order to test my hypothesis, I’d have to admit to at least two people I was a Healer: the hematologist and an enthralled witch. It was quite a risk for something that might not pan out. However if I didn’t try, I’d be in essence giving up on the witches I’d saved. My conscience couldn’t handle that.

  So how did I go about finding a hematologist?

  Grabbing the Wipuk phone book I’d found in the kitchen drawer, I flipped to the yellow pages to the “H” section—ignoring how strange it was a supernatural colony even had yellow pages. Predictably there were no entries for hematologist. There were a few mentions for physicians. I looked for one specializing in internal medicine, ultimately settling on one that mentioned she was a Healer as well.

  I had no idea what I was going to say to Dr. Vanessa Yates, but I’d lose my nerve if I didn’t call her now. Phone held to my ear, I drew in a shaky breath over the ringback.

  A light female voice answered. “Dr. Yates’s office, how may I help you?”

  Damn. She had a receptionist.

  Of course she did. She was a doctor. Even Wipuk doctors needed a receptionist.

  I cleared my throat. “Uh, I had some general questions for the doctor about blood work. Do I need an appointment? Or can I speak to her over the phone?”

  “Is this regarding your blood work?”

  “No, they’re general questions.”

  “May I ask who is calling?”

  The woman’s wary tone worried me. But it was too late to go back now. “Kora Walsh.”

  “I’ll see if she’s available.”

  I held my breath, squelching the voices in my head whispering this was insane. That I ought to hang up. For thousands of years vampires had been enthralling humans. The science of blood wasn’t terribly new. Someone had to have looked into this at some point in the past. I was just an upstart sorceress poking her nose where it wasn’t meant to be poked.

  “This is Dr. Yates. How can I help you?”

  The soothing alto voice wasn’t at all what I’d expected. I decided she’d have dark hair grayed on the sides and a pleasant smile. She’d have a good bedside manner. And she’d be great at her job—of course, because she was also a Healer.

  “Hi, this is Kora Walsh.” My attempt at speaking with confidence wasn’t terribly convincing. “I was hoping to ask you about plasma filtering. Do you know anything about it?”

  “I know of it, yes. I did it several times in my residency.”

  “Dr. Yates, you … you’re a Healer, correct?”

  “Hold please.” Her low heels clicked on a hard floor. A door thudded shut. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I’m a Healer. You’re the new sorceress in town? The one who owns that shop?”

  “Yes.” I waited for her to give her opinion if she chose.

  A brief interval of silence passed. “I have been meaning to stop in there.”

  That was promising, enough that I decided on a new strategy, one that involved starting from the beginning. “Did you hear about Dea Woods?”

  “Yes.” The doctor puffed against the handset. “It’s a tragedy.”

  “Has anyone ever studied the blood of the enthralled?”

  There was a pause. “I don’t know. Hold a moment, and I’ll pull up the Healer library.” Papers crinkled, a computer chimed, and then she clicked and tapped around on a computer.

  “I’m sorry to drop this on you without warning,” I said. “I know you’re busy.”

  “I was just finishing up in Sedona,” she said in between clicking. “Tuesdays I work half in Sedona and half at home. There were no appointments for home so you’re in luck.”

  “Thank you.” My response was breathy because she had no idea how much I appreciated her answering my stupid questions and being brave enough to speak to me when everyone else avoided me.

  “Let’s see.” Dr. Yates typed a few words. “It seems there were a few documented cases of attempts to cure thralls using blood transfusions, but the patients either died from a lack of blood or there was no change.”

  “Were there any cases of plasma filtering or plasmapheresis?”

  She typed in the new words. The quiet roll of a scroll wheel sounded in my ear. Several taps of the keys meant she’d typed more followed by another click. The suspense lifted my pulse.

  “Intriguing,” she said at last. “There’s nothing for either in relation to a vampiric blood bond.”

  “Do you think it could be done if the blood bond was just an antibody in the infected person’s system?”

  “Yes. The question is if removing the antibodies would cure the patient permanently or if the body is altered to the point where it would generate new antibodies.”

  That was a very good question. And I didn’t have the answer. I drew in a deep breath because I would never be able to take back what I was about to say.

  “I can show you which antibody it is. Would you be willing to help me test this?”

  “Yes. Where should we meet?”

  ****

  I met Dr. Vanessa Yates at her Wipuk office—a sedate blue painted room attached to the front of her adobe house situated in Wipuk Hills. She didn’t have a receptionist for her Wipuk office. I was okay with that.

  Vanessa, like most witches, was an attractive woman with long brown-black hair rather like Viho’s except with gray on the sides. Her face was a mixture of nationalities. The straight European nose, pointed lips and widely spaced almond eyes made her look as if she had some Asian ancestry in her immediate family. She’d tossed off her white lab coat in favor of a white T-shirt and jeans. I liked that she’d gotten comfortable.

  Soon after arriving, I persuaded her to ask Dea Woods for a sample of her blood. The excuse we gave was a new treatment Dr. Yates was working on to block a vampire from tracking his thrall. Dea, of course, was eager to give blood for the cause. The Earth witch and her Guardian arrived within a half hour, plenty of time for me to describe the antibody I’d spotted in Dea’s blood at lunch.

  Vanessa let me hide in her kitchen while she drew Dea’s blood. The doctor sent Dea on her way with the promise she’d be in contact as soon as she learned anything. She then fetched me to her microscope.

  Beside her workbench, I called on Healing to show me the antibodies. The glowing crimson specs appeared even in the blood in the test tube. Magic amazed me daily. Now I had to figure out how to share my findings with the good doctor. In a wild attempt at the impossible, I willed Healing to illuminate the antibodies for my companion.

  The doctor’s startled gasp a half second later was a promising response. “Is that them?” she whispered.

  I hadn’t noted any change. “What?”

  Dr. Yates extended a finger toward the small glass tube. “The glowing inside the test tube.”

  “Yes. I’ve used Healing to illuminate them for you. I don’t know if it’s altering their make-up. But that is the antibody the seven enthralled witches had that neither Desmond Marino nor I have in us.”

  “Did you check any female witches who weren’t enthralled?”

  “No.” My shoulders slumped because in my haste to continue my research, I hadn’t finished my experiment. “I should have before I bothered you.”

  “Check me.” Her rounded eyes fixed on the glowing specs.

  I willed Healing into her, checking for the antibody as I’d done with the others. The report returned a neg
ative answer. “You’re clean.”

  “Good.” Vanessa exhaled in relief. Her body drew up into a tight line as her tone went professional. “I’m going to try replacing the plasma to see what happens. If there’s no adverse effects, then I’ll work with Dea to do a plasmapheresis over the next week.”

  I settled back on the hard sofa in her office, nibbling my fingernails until we knew more.

  ****

  The deadbolt and door chain were engaged as the sun slipped beneath the horizon. A little metal wasn’t going to help much if Nadir Khan tracked me to my apartment. There’d be no way to keep him out if he really wanted in.

  I curled up into the far corner of my futon with my laptop on my thighs. For a lack of anything better to do, I researched other ways of isolating antibodies. I was counting on Dr. Yates to be the brains on this one. She knew how important this work was.

  It boggled the mind that no Healer had looked into a treatment for those affected by a vampire’s thrall. True, the Healer faction was small in number and had primarily been focused on the health of their own familial units and tribes, but they’d been collaborating for decades. What had been their focus if not this?

  Was the treaty the communities had signed centuries ago to blame? It might be an act of sedition for a vampire to enthrall a witch, but that didn’t make humans safe. Whatever the case, something had to be done.

  The knock at my door at quarter to nine made my heart pound like a jackhammer chipping away at concrete. I sat motionless in part fear for what was on the other side and part hope they’d go away before I found out. The second knock broke my frozen pose. Any Were, shifter, or vampire would have heard my heartbeat through the thin walls.

  I got to my feet, moving with soft steps. A head of carelessly spiked sable hair with a waved lock left of center was the first thing I saw through the door’s peephole. Then Maximo’s half smile became the focus as he lifted his head. He knew I watched.

  I undid the dead bolt with cautious speed. And in a show of trust I wasn’t feeling in the slightest, I removed the chain that would have kept the door shut. He’d easily be able to rip the thing off the wall if he’d wanted. Leaving it fastened would only anger him unnecessarily.

  “Hola.” The amiable spread of his lips showed bright white teeth. His canines were pointed but no more so than mine. The mere hint they could change made me suppress a shiver. “Can I come in?”

  I stepped aside because I had no other choice. If I wanted the ring back, I had to make a go of this dating-a-vampire thing.

  Maximo glanced at my lips as if he were contemplating a kiss. My cheeks warmed as the memory of his previous kisses played out in my mind. I turned my back on him, hiding the reaction. Back to my futon I retreated so there’d be space between us.

  He stood clad in his blue jeans and black button down shirt near the door. His attention darted around the room as I plunked down onto the futon. More than likely he found my apartment lacking in comparison to his beautiful Spanish Colonial-style villa. I could only claim a lumpy futon, a huge beanbag chair, and one torch lamp as my furniture. None of it matched.

  “Graduate student chic.” I picked up my laptop, hiding my embarrassment.

  Maximo’s focus switched away from the open bedroom door where my bed sat unmade. Fortunately it was around the corner and thus unseen. “Hmm?”

  “I said, ‘graduate student chic’.” I waved to the futon beneath me and the other items atop the bare travertine floor. “I didn’t have room for more than this at my old place. And I was on a budget.”

  His amiable smile increased. “It’s cozy.” After a last glance around, he neared the futon. And then he sank down on the opposite end.

  I closed my laptop’s browser windows so he wouldn’t know I’d been looking up how to cleanse the blood of his faction’s muck. He continued taking in the room for a few seconds before facing me.

  “You don’t have a television,” he said. “I thought all mortals your age had at least one.”

  “Mortals my age use the Internet more than television.”

  “Ah.” The fact he didn’t argue implied he hadn’t been around “mortals” my age often. That figured if he’d dated the same woman for the last century and a half.

  He slid his back against the futon’s wooden arm, drawing a knee up in front of him. The pose shifted his torso in my direction. “How was your day?”

  That seemed like an odd question.

  While popular culture would have us believe it was an ordinary query, I wasn’t sure anyone had ever asked me. My mother would have known the answer without asking. And Trip… He’d never cared how my days went so long as I was miserable.

  “Fine,” I said uneasily. How much news did Maximo get about the day’s events while he was … sleeping? I went ahead and told him in case he’d find out. “Dea Woods asked to have lunch with all of the enthralled witches and had me come along. Desmond hosted it.”

  Maximo’s lips pursed until he brought his leg down and slid a foot closer. “Was it tedious?”

  I forced my back to relax. He wasn’t touching me, yet, but he was near.

  “There was a lot of repetition in the stories,” I said. “But it wasn’t tedious.”

  “What did Desmond the dick serve?” Though his tone was light, his expression was still dark. He and Desmond clearly had history neither had mentioned.

  “He made manicotti.”

  The vampire’s head drew back a few inches. Surprise colored his eyes. “He really cooks?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does he cook well?”

  I glanced away before realizing what I was doing. My eyes swung back to his. “He’s not a horrible cook.”

  Maximo made a sound of contemplation. Then he reached out a hand. He brushed the hair away from my cheek. His thumb slid over the shell of my ear, drawing another shiver—this one I couldn’t hide. Tiny waves of sensation spread out across my arms even though he hadn’t touched them.

  The vampire’s lips lifted into a full smile. Twin lines formed from his nose, curling around his mouth in low relief. Several fine wrinkles formed around his eyes. He had the kind of smile that was almost impossible not to return. And when he’d lower his head until his gaze was hooded, he looked just a little mischievous. His open collar invited me to look. The top two buttons on the shirt had been unfastened to show his olive-sienna skin and the spattering of sable hair on his chest. He was also a little too sexy.

  Maximo dropped his hand from my ear and simultaneously drew back against the futon’s wooden arm. I shouldn’t have experienced a pang of disappointment that he’d put distance between us. But I did.

  His thigh came up against the cushion in what couldn’t have been a comfortable position. Without a word, Maximo took hold of my bicep. He drew me across the piece of furniture until my tush was settled against his pelvis. My spine went rigid along his chest as I struggled with competing emotions of fear and something warm I refused to name.

  With slight pressure on my shoulders, he repositioned me until my tush and legs remained on the futon and the rest of me reclined against his cool body. His lavender scent flooded my nose as the air settled around us.

  Maximo let out a soft sound of contentment as his right arm wrapped around my waist. The other hand brushed the hair over my ear for the excuse it gave him to touch the sensitive outer shell again. Damn my shivering body.

  “Relax.” His lips were far too close to my opposite ear and more importantly my throat.

  “I’m sorry.” I couldn’t seem to slacken my muscles. Though I was afraid he’d fibbed and that he would bite me or enthrall me, the fear was equally arousing. My heart pounded wildly, and my breath came in quicker gasps.

  “I understand.” He continued sliding his hand over my hair, alternating between running his fingers through the strands at the top of my head and those around my ears. Tingles ran down my scalp into my neck and spine with each new movement. I couldn’t concentrate on the laptop in front of
me while he stroked.

  Maximo’s lips brushed beneath my right ear. I inhaled a sharp breath. His movements ceased, perhaps as startled by my reaction as I was. He lifted his mouth but didn’t draw away.

  “Rebecca,” he said my given name in a whisper.

  I inhaled a ragged breath because once again that sound was an aphrodisiac.

  “Are you…? Have you been with a man?”

  My desperate laugh sounded like an answer all on its own. But it wasn’t.

  “Yes,” I said.

  His grip on my right side tightened a smidgeon. “When was the last time?”

  “Um…” My mind raced. “Six months?”

  The vampire’s grip eased. “So long?”

  “I was busy. I had my thesis to write and exams to take.”

  “A beautiful girl like you.” He smoothed his hand over my hair, deliberately delaying his words. “Should be fighting the men off.”

  I didn’t think I was beautiful. But my looks had nothing to do with why I wasn’t fighting off men. It had everything to do with Trip fighting them off for me.

  Maximo brushed another kiss beneath my ear. This time he murmured in lyrical Spanish about how beautiful I was. The telltale sign of arousal nudged my back. My blood heated, pushing warmth all across my body as it raced within my veins.

  “You’re so warm,” he said in Spanish while nuzzling his nose into my neck. “Warm like the sun. I want to wrap you around me like the softest of blankets.” In English he said, “Rebecca.” The pause he always placed before and after my name was unique to him. The sound alone made my pulse quicken. “I want you, so very much. But I want to go slowly. You need me to go slowly.”

  I kept my head still rather than nod.

  “Do you have something to distract us?” he asked. “Movies on that laptop of yours?”

  This time I let myself nod.

  “Play one.”

  And so I did.

  Chapter Twelve

  We’d begun watching the second comedy I’d saved on the computer when Maximo’s phone vibrated in his pocket. It startled me half out of my skin because I’d felt it beneath my back. He fished the device out while holding me captive in his lap.