The music pulsed through the large rooms, bodies gyrated against each other, and people barely moved around the overcrowded floor. I’d gotten lost in the sea of people and found myself dancing with a dark-haired guy who was getting a little too handsy. It seemed like he considered this the prelude to foreplay and maybe a one-night stand. I tried to keep an eye on Savannah as the boy band encircled her. She was in vamp heaven. I was in overprotective-make-sure-my roommate-doesn’t-become-vamp-food hell.
All-American leaned into Savannah, his nose brushing against her face as he spoke to her, and she gave him a whimsical smile as though he was whispering the most beautiful sonnet. Okay, have it your way. She liked vamps. I had to deal with it. Eventually she was going to give in to her curiosity. Maybe one bite would cure her of her obsession. I’d had my share and wasn’t in a hurry to have it happen again.
Just as I had conceded she was a vamp groupie, I wasn’t going to change that, and hopefully tomorrow I wouldn’t wake up to Ginger, All-American, or McBroody in our apartment, Savannah’s scream ripped through the music. I turned and ran in the direction of the sound, navigating through the people who wouldn’t stop dancing because they were too drunk or didn’t care. After all, what should you expect at a vamp-bar? They have to feed.
I shoved my way through the bodies and found All-American latched on to her neck, his eyes empty. His fingers were entwined in her hair as he kept her close to him. Like a feral animal he gnawed on her neck, while she screamed. Then she stopped and went limp in his arms. I slipped through a small space in the crowd and clamped my hand down on his jaw. I put enough force in it to give him pain. I needed him to release her without pulling away and injuring her further. His gaze flew in my direction, and then he released her and clamped on to my arm. Blood spilled. My hand immediately went to my back, used to the twins in their sheath. I hammered blows into the side of his head, but he kept his hold. Another jab, and his bite loosened. I kept delivering blows until he finally released. Blood spurted from the bite mark and he lunged for me again, his large eyes unfocused. Before I could respond the cat-shifter had slammed him to the ground. The men who were with her moved in, trying to contain the wild vampire. The crowd closed in, someone covered my arm with a towel, which became soaked fast. I tried to get a hold of it before they took it away, but it was replaced by a new towel and disappeared into the crowd. It’s never a good idea to have your blood out there, especially someone like me, but it was too late. The commotion made it hard to see things. I pushed my way through the mass of people gathered around Savannah, who was on the ground holding her neck, her hand covered in blood, her mouth still open in a look of surprise. Someone handed me a towel and I pressed it to her neck. What the hell happened?
Vamps weren’t wild. Even new vampires didn’t snap like that. All-American was on the ground with his eyes closed, arms bound behind his back. Since they didn’t breathe I had no idea if he was dead or not. The female shifter from earlier stood over him. The rest of his friends started toward him, but with one look she stopped them in their tracks. Her hazel eyes were smothered out by the dark brown shifter ring. Taking slow steps back her partners tried to assist with fanning out the crowd, but people weren’t listening, too busy taking pictures with their phones and looking at the spectacle. This didn’t happen often, or as far as I knew it didn’t happen often. The supernatural community went through great pains to keep most incidents quiet from the outside world—the humans. As far as the humans would ever know, they were your friendly neighborhood faes, vamps, shifters, mages, and witches.
Suddenly the crowd started to separate, and through the sea of bodies appeared Gareth. Must be nice to have that kind of clout. He knelt down next to Savannah and removed the towel from her neck. Frowning at the deep puncture wounds, he looked at All-American and then back at her, then placed the towel back on her neck. I was sure he’d seen that same thing I had—nothing. With his face turned toward us, the vamp’s eyes were empty. Just like the vampires at the auction. Someone had taken over his mind, rode him hard, and tossed him away like trash.
“We need to get her to the Isles,” he said. I started toward Savannah to help her up, but he had lifted her and was carrying her toward the door.
If the vampire hadn’t just taken a chunk out of her neck and she wasn’t drifting in and out of consciousness, Gareth would have gotten an earful. She might have the worst judgment when it came to vampires but she didn’t do damsel in distress—no matter how distressed of a damsel she was at the time. Glancing around at the room of glassy-eyed, wistful women it was very obvious that most of them would have been willing to be victim of a vampire attack to be in Savannah’s place. Be more desperate, will you?
I rushed out in front of them. “We’re parked over here.” He hesitated for a moment and looked at a black Lotus before following me to the car and putting her in the passenger seat.
Once I had her settled in I started to feel that panic. Ignoring the throbbing in my arm, I started to drive while watching her. The towel was still secured around her neck although it was sodden with blood. This was bad—so bad. The pang of guilt, frustration, and anger was hard to ignore as I drove down the street.
The Isles wasn’t far and at the speed I was going we would be there in less than fifteen minutes. I questioned everything. Should I have called an ambulance? Why didn’t I stay with her the whole time? Did I make the injuries worse?
Guilt rode me hard by the time I pulled up, only to be trumped by surprise when Gareth stood at the entrance waiting for me. That didn’t make me feel better. He would have gotten her help faster. Dammit.
An unconscious Savannah was rushed away as soon as we got through the door. It was enough of a commotion as Gareth updated them on what happened that I could sneak away. I kept my arm hidden enough not to alarm anyone. I’d driven past the Isles a thousand times and never thought I would ever have to go in. It’s where the supernaturals went for medical care. They were welcome to go to any hospital, but it was a preference. It was probably the least-used hospital in the city vicinity. The shifters had their own doctors. Mages and faes usually were able to heal themselves, and vampires were nearly as indestructible as shifters. When they got hurt, it was usually bad with injuries that most would die from. The Isles was mostly for humans suffering from supernatural injury: a spell that went wrong, a run-in with a shifter, and like now, a vampire bite. I wasn’t sure how many injuries were a result of any of it because they were as good at keeping confidentiality as they were at maintaining discretion. Savannah’s attack would be the talk among the people in the club, but I was curious to find out if it would end up on the news. I was pretty sure a very powerful fae would visit the club and all memories of the evening would be accidentally modified.
I ducked into one of the rooms, holding my phone up to signify I needed to make a private call to the nurse who kept gawking at me from the station. I shot her a dirty look. It didn’t work. She was probably so used to dealing with bad-ass supernaturals, one harsh look from me meant nothing to her.
I held my bent arm gingerly to my chest. The pain was nearly unbearable, and I needed to do a spell to fix it. There wasn’t a better place than the Isles, where magic ran rampant and would mask the use of mine. I could feel it, pulsing through the hallways, the variations of the different types coating the air. This was the first time I was able to get a good look at my arm. It was an angry red with long blood trails that led away from the puncture marks where the vampire had dragged his fangs across the skin. It was a lot worse than I thought. Vampires had the ability to close up the wound, healing and sealing when they laved over it. Which was fine when you were a willing donor. A vampire bite wasn’t a typical injury and remained open for a long time. It allowed the vampire to feed as long as they liked. But if unlaved or untreated, a person could easily bleed out.
I couldn’t completely heal it just in case I ran into Gareth again, but I needed it to stop hurting and at least decrease the bleeding. Inch
ing closer to the window, into the corner, I did a small spell. The throbbing in my arm receded and the puncture marks started to close around the edges, making it difficult for me to bleed out. There was still some bruising, but that was fine. Before I could completely exit the door, I was met by Gareth.
“Levy, let me see your arm,” he requested in a low, rigid voice.
“It’s fine.” I drew my arm closer to me. “How is Savannah?”
He stepped closer, a determined look on his face. It was obvious he wasn’t used to someone telling him no. “Levy, let me see your arm.” It wasn’t a request this time. It was a command from a man who was accustomed to having his request followed. But I wasn’t part of the Guild, I didn’t answer to him. But I knew it was in my best interest to play nice.
I was prepared to do just that. Prepared to coy it up: wide eyes, pouty lips, and put a gentle timbre in my voice. I was going to work it. I’d settled on doing it, and yet this came out: “Thanks for your concern, but I can assure you it’s fine. I promise the next time I’m injured and you’re around I’ll damsel it up for you. And you can play the knight in shining armor. How about that?”
The stern look and straight line of his lips remained as he crossed his arms over his chest and steadied his gaze on me. His lips flickered on a smile but then settled into a faintly amused smirk.
“Savannah will be fine, when she leaves here there shouldn’t be any signs of a vampire attack,” he responded in an even voice.
Although I made it habit to stay away from shifters, it was common knowledge that shifters were domineering and controlling, and the irritation that glinted in his eyes confirmed it. Is this a fight I had to win? I plopped the arm out in front of me so he could see the marks. I’m sure he could have done without the eye roll, but I couldn’t help it.
It was surprising how gentle his touch was as he ran his fingers along the marks. Warmth pricked at my skin and I moved closer to him. A simple glide of his fingers over my arm seemed far too sensual, raw and carnal. As he studied the bite mark, I studied him, once again very aware of his strongly hewn features, supple lips, and light eyes that reminded me of blue diamonds. When they held mine, I was just vaguely aware of the predator that lurked behind them. And he was a person who could not only sense magic, but could smell it. Did my shield block it? This time I considered him for different reasons, looking for hints of whether he sensed anything.
I gently pulled my arm away.
“It’s a lot better than I expected. You should still have one of the physicians look at it.”
I shrugged off the suggestion. I still had a blood-sodden paper towel somewhere. I had taken enough chances.
Again, that spark of irritation flared but he dismissed it and then glanced down at my injured arm again. “What are you hiding?”
“I don’t like doctors,” I admitted.
After a long moment of consideration, he said, “Okay.” Then he turned and headed out the door. I waited for Savannah alone.
Nearly two hours later we entered the apartment, and Gareth was right, Savannah didn’t have any marks. Even the bruising was gone. But she seemed to be a little shaken up and didn’t talk much on the ride home nor once we were in the apartment. After a few minutes of small talk and very little detail about the treatment she excused herself to bed. I felt like crap, replaying everything in my head trying to pinpoint what I could have done to prevent the attack from happening. Reluctantly I had to admit there wasn’t anything I could have done, and yet it didn’t make me feel any less guilty.
I directed my thoughts elsewhere. Who was controlling the vampires and why?
CHAPTER 4
I tried to follow the command of the rough voice shouting for me to get to my feet. but I couldn’t move my hands because they were stuck under a body. Once I slid them from under the dead weight I saw that my arms were red with blood. When I finally pulled myself to standing I saw another body at my feet. Strands of its long blond hair splayed over my bare feet. My head pounded when I saw another body just a few inches away. A stout male, with scalp-short hair. Strong waves of magic wafted through the air and ensorcelled everything around.
“Show me your hands,” a police officer demanded, his gun trained on me along with the gun of the other officer who stood next to him. I raised them and as they directed and clasped them behind my head. As they slowly approached me, I noticed the same thing that caught their eye, too—another body. A shifter. And he was dead, too. Fuck. Three dead bodies.
My head pounded harder, the magic stung my nose and prickled at my skin. The smell of death coated the air. My mind raced over my memories—or attempted to, but there wasn’t anything. I’m Anya Kismet, no, Olivia—Levy Michaels. I knew my address and my parents’ names and the bastard who killed them. I could remember the day I killed him. I remembered Kalen and Savannah. I remembered everything until—I didn’t.
“State your name,” demanded the officer.
I stated my name: Olivia Michaels. I looked around, hoping my surroundings would jar my memories. Savannah went to the hospital. I remembered that. I looked around the area. Open space, tall trees off in the distance, a bench a few feet away, a walking trail in front of it. Those were the only things I could make out in the dark. I was in a park, but I didn’t know which one. It didn’t look familiar to me.
Bodies. The moonlight cast an odd glow over them. There was a hint of fae and mage magic that lingered in the air. I was only able to get a glimpse of the lifeless bodies as they took me away. A waifish woman with cherub features and coltish small frame was the one who’d been sprawled at my feet. Her eyes were open and a vacant look that was a mixture of surprise and horror was carved on her face. I doubt the police officer realized that having her magic stolen was what killed her and not the knife wound to her neck. I couldn’t exactly place which one she was, fae or mage, but I was pretty sure it was fae. The man they found next to me was twice her length and broader. He had the sturdy musculature of a shifter—probably a bear or something. With shifters it was hard to tell; sometimes you could guess by their behavior if it had a lot of similarities to their animal’s, but until they shift there really wasn’t any telling. But his human form made me think he was ursidae family, but who knew, he could be a cat. His head twisted in an odd position, the turgid cords of muscle of his thick neck protruding out. How could they believe I was the one who broke his neck? A contemptuous scowl marred his face.
The third body was the only one whose eyes were closed, in a peaceful state, and I wanted to believe he went quietly, but he, too, had puncture wounds, in his chest. As with the woman, his magic was stolen. The shifter was the only one for whom I could still sense the light lingering magic.
“What day is it?” I asked the officer as he put me in the back of the patrol car.
“Saturday.”
Savannah went to the hospital on Friday. I’d lost a day. I focused on the back of the seat, trying hard to retrieve my lost memories. We came back from the hospital, I remembered that. Savannah was fine, no bruises, no marks—as good as new. And that was the last thing I could remember. Did I go to bed? Did I go out?
Everything happened in such a blur; I was still trying to grasp what was going on. My head felt heavy and the constant throbbing at my temple just made the fuzziness worse. People asked me questions and I gave them the shortest answer I could. It didn’t feel real until they took my mugshot, and then reality snapped me back hard, like a punch to the chest, nearly winding me. Murder. I was being charged with murder—no, not a murder, but three murders.
The cuffs felt uncomfortable against my skin, but they weren’t too tight—just everything felt suffocating. The large office seemed too small, and the scent of smoke and various body scents, food, and oil fanned through the air. The man who sat across from me, a little too far because he had to make room for his stomach, didn’t feign any interest in the situation or me, as though he’d already decided I was guilty. Dark brown eyes levied his condemnation. B
ut when he spoke, his voice was hollow, mild. He’d slipped into his professional mask with ease, straightening his tie, turning on the recorder, and plastering on a weak but kind smile.
“State your full name,” he said.
“Olivia Michaels,” I said. The fog still hadn’t lifted and my eyes were still trying to focus with the harsh lights that were just as uncomfortable as the one they glared in my direction when they found me in the park.
“Do you know why you are here?” Once again, he spoke in a simple, even tone.
“No,” I said, and his eyes widened.
“Can you elaborate?”
“I know you found me in the park with three dead people. But I don’t know how I got there.” My mind was muddled and I tried desperately to retrieve the lost memories.
He leaned back in his chair and studied me for a long time. His piercing eyes bore into me, the slight lift that hinted at a smile was gone, and his lips dipped deep into a frown.
“Not just three dead bodies,” he said. He leaned into the table, his voice dropped; low and grating. “A shifter, mage, and fae. I don’t think I need to tell you how bad this is.” He washed his hands over his face, but the frown remained. I think the frustration had more to do with the potential media circus and paperwork that would ensue.
I closed my eyes, fighting for the lost memories to find something familiar when the last thing I could remember was Savannah going to the hospital. I told him about the incident at Crimson, an unedited version. The officer didn’t seem too concerned about the club incident, but still asked several follow-up question: Was she okay? Did I know the vampires before that night? Who helped stop it?
Double-Sided Magic (Legacy Series Book 1) Page 5