“I think they go fine. And it’s deconstructed, not goth. Welcome to the second decade of the twenty-first century.”
“That’s my sweater you deconstructed.”
“You weren’t wearing it.”
“At the time.”
“Shower, please. You smell like bakery.”
“Some people like it.”
“Like who, Jade? Anyone you’d actually consider?”
I turned away from Sienna’s almost mocking laugh and mounted the stairs to my suite above the bakery. Gran owned the entire block that included the bakery, which I leased from her through her corporation, Godfrey Properties. A real estate investment that had been passed down from her husband, of whom I had only vague memories. The storefronts also had apartments on the upper floors. The rents were high, but the view and the solid building upkeep made for long-term tenants.
When I renovated the bakery, I had stairs built to connect to one of the two suites that occupied the second floor. The apartment also had an entrance from the outside that I shared with the other, currently unoccupied, suite. However, I pretty much used the back alley exit from the bakery exclusively.
I think Sienna was currently bunking at Gran’s, being in between jobs. Which meant she was probably living full-time with Rusty, who was some sort of a stockbroker — he worked from home, keeping almost the same hours as I did. The stock exchange opened early on the West Coast.
I walked through my sparsely furnished living room toward my second bedroom, which currently operated as a craft room of sorts, and which boasted the most amazing view of the ocean and the North Shore Mountains. Kitsilano spread up from the beach in a slow-sloping hill. Many homes managed peekaboo views from their upper floors; I had a hundred-and-eighty-degree vista. The lights of North and West Vancouver spread out along the base of the snow-peaked mountains. The ski runs of Grouse and Cypress Mountains were clearly lit tracks above the residential area, even though mid-April was late for them to be open except to hikers and, maybe higher up, snowshoers.
I ignored the urge to open the large window and let the breeze in. It had a tiny Juliet balcony on which I’d planted chocolate cosmos and strawberries last summer. No matter the oddly warm weather we’d been having, it was still too early for the strawberries to flower.
The room was lined with shelves. I stood before the desk by the window — I liked to look at the mountains while I worked — and trailed my hand over the trinkets on the nearest shelf. I had thousands of them … bits of magical things, rocks, ribbons, knickknacks. One set of shelves was completely devoted to jade — jewelry, unpolished rocks, and chipped figurines. Yes, my name is Jade and I collect jade. The stone held magic like a sponge. My fingers strayed down to stroke the jade knife I always wore at my hip, covered by an invisibility spell — courtesy of my grandmother, of course.
It had taken me a year to hone the knife from a large stone I’d found on a remote hike outside Lillooet, and another year struggling with the spells I’d wanted to temper it with. It was practically unbreakable and would cut through pretty much anything now … well, anything I’d tested it on. Why I needed such a knife, I didn’t know. I just wanted it. Gran hadn’t questioned it, and had even supplied me with spells from her personal spellbooks on request. Some of the items needed to perform those spells had taken months to secure, and I took classes on how to wield the knife while waiting. It was the length of my forearm, just thicker than my thumb. It was perfect.
The vampire was perched on my Juliet balcony. My jaw dropped and stayed down. He was leaning against the ancient iron railing, which was in no way rated to take his weight. Juliet balconies weren’t meant to be stood on. He crossed his arms and looked at me. Coolly assessing, completely unruffled, though he had just climbed — or jumped — two storeys.
“Vampire,” I said, naming him before I thought it best to shut my mouth.
He tilted his head and said, “Witch.” I could hear him clearly through the glass, and hoped that was because it was single paned and not because he was somehow in my head.
The same wards that protected the bakery protected my apartment. Actually, the wards here were stronger, more focused. They were anchored to the walls and windows, covering the entire inside perimeter of the bakery and apartment. No one could enter the apartment without being invited by someone keyed specifically to the spells, such as myself or Sienna, who had a habit of living with me between boyfriends. Whereas the wards on the bakery had to allow human customers through. Anyone with a bit of magic in them had to request the right to purchase my baking, though once keyed to the ward they could come and go.
My pulse was loud in my ears. I wasn’t sure that had ever happened before. I wished I’d gone to that yoga class … though maybe the vampire would have just followed me there, where I’d be unprotected.
My hand involuntarily strayed to the necklace I wore. I also collected vintage wedding rings, pairs if possible, all magically imbued. I soldered the rings like charms on a bracelet to a long, thick gold chain, also vintage. It wound three times around my neck easily. The magic in the rings was barely discernible, but still I collected them together like a magpie. I wore the necklace constantly, even in the shower.
The vampire’s gaze stayed on the knife at my hip. I’d taken off my apron, the sheath worn over my jeans. The supposedly invisible sheath. He could see through my grandmother’s magic.
The hair stood up on the back of my neck. He was old, then, and powerful. That was worse, even though it meant his control was probably unshakable — the bloodlust sated by centuries of drinking — because I didn’t know that the wards would keep him out.
“What have you been up to, witch?” The vampire spoke so quietly that I barely heard him through the glass. Okay, so he wasn’t in my head. The wards were stopping that at least. As I tried to remember my lessons, I was pretty sure that that was one of a vampire’s talents. Along with immortality, strength, invulnerability, and the pesky need to drink blood for sustenance.
I wasn’t too sure he couldn’t also hear the beating of my heart, or cut through witch magic like softened butter.
Belatedly, I remembered to not look him in the eyes, and he laughed as I tore my gaze away from his. He laughed like I was easy prey. Suddenly furious, I clenched my fists and glared at him. He wasn’t smiling; could you laugh without smiling? It was odd. If it wasn’t for his eyes, which were again locked to mine, he could have been carved out of stone. Dense ice, actually. Expensive jeans, cashmere sweater, and all.
I stepped toward the window and lifted my hand to the latch without even deciding to move.
He smiled then, pleased with himself. He was obviously trying to compel me through the wards. Powerful bastard.
I clenched a fist with the hand I’d lifted toward the latch, then dropped my arm to the side. I smiled back at him. Two could play the smiling-without-mirth game. Not that I’d ever been compelled before — that was more than a little frightening — but still, I covered well.
He frowned and dropped his gaze to my chest with a raised eyebrow. But it wasn’t my breasts that impressed him, though I’ve been told more than once that I was a perfect handful. It was the necklace.
Maybe Sienna was somehow right …
He pulled something from his pocket, a long string of blackened and crumpled objects. I stared at this item without comprehension for a long moment before my brain figured out what I was seeing.
One of my trinkets, burned and crushed.
I flicked my eyes questioningly to the vampire. He was waiting for my reaction. Well, I was mad.
“Why? Why would you ruin it? What did you do? Run it over and then set fire to it?” I could see a piece of sea glass hanging wired in the middle … it was one of my new favorite trinkets. And he’d destroyed it.
“Not me, witch. You,” the vampire said, and he slipped the trinket back into his pocket. No … not a pocket. He must be wearing a spelled satchel or something.
If I looked closely, I could almost make out a shape. The wards worked both ways, keeping magic out and in, so I couldn’t be sure.
“Why would I do that to one of my own pieces? I make them.”
“Why do you make them, witch? What purpose?”
I frowned at his question. “No purpose, just because the pieces work together … like they’re meant to be.”
The vampire shook his head as if disgusted by me. The condemnation hurt, even though I had no idea where it was coming from or what he meant by it. Or why his opinion should mean anything to me at all.
“Next time, I come in,” he said, his voice empty of warning and more terrifying for it.
“Let’s see if you can, vampire. I’m game.” I wasn’t, not even remotely, but I was good with the bravado. I placed my hand on the knife at my hip but didn’t draw.
The vampire showed me his teeth. It wasn’t a smile. It was the lip curl of a predator. “No. I sent a request. I’ll await official confirmation. I won’t have the Conclave question my right to your blood truth.”
I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. Request? Conclave? Blood truth … well, that one was half obvious. He was a vampire, after all.
Then he left. Just like that. He dropped, or climbed, or perhaps disappeared quicker than I could track him.
I didn’t wet my pants, but I was glad I hadn’t drunk anything all afternoon. Usually I was an eight-glasses-a-day sort of girl.
∞
I was being stalked by an obviously insane vampire. It didn’t get much more terrifying than that.
CHAPTER TWO
Despite my numb, shocky state, I made it into the shower. Though not before I seriously thought about leaving a message on my Gran’s voicemail. The chances of her cell phone picking up in Tofino were slim, but I was loathe to interrupt her yearly vacation. I never had, not even the day Sienna found out her dad was dead and I’d moved her into the guest room at my Gran’s house. We’d gathered as many things as we could grab quickly and toss in a backpack. Sienna’s mother — drunk out of her mind — screamed obscenities about us and our “kind” the entire time. She also threatened to dump Sienna in the foster system.
Actually, Gran had been upset I hadn’t called that day. When she’d returned from her annual trip she’d dealt with Sienna’s mother somehow, and made sure there was legal paperwork in place that made us officially sisters.
It was pretty stupid to think I could take on a vampire by myself, but I was twenty-three. Did I really need my grandmother to be constantly overseeing everything and every choice I made? In the end, I decided Tofino was only a few hours away and I didn’t yet know if the vampire was a real problem, so I didn’t call.
I dried my hair and halfheartedly pinned it up. After I added some eyeliner, blush, and lip gloss to the look, I was pretty much done procrastinating.
The vampire said he needed approval to bite me. Could he get that approval in the next couple of hours? Was it safer to stay behind wards that I wasn’t sure could hold him or be out among people? Vampires were careful about exposure — all the magically adept were — but could he grab me without anyone even noticing? Maybe …
A key turning in the lock announced Sienna’s return to the apartment. She’d come through the main door rather than the bakery for which she didn’t have keys.
I pulled a hand-painted silk jacket over my ‘Attempted Murder’ T-shirt — it has two crows on it; think about it — and a pair of Seven jeans. The jacket was the nicest and most expensive thing I owned. Sienna was out in the living room chatting with Rusty, though I couldn’t specifically distinguish his voice. They sounded far, far away, and I thought then I might still be shocky despite the hot shower. I strapped my knife back at my hip and took a deep breath.
It was just dinner and dancing. The vampire wasn’t going to kill me in front of witnesses. Plus, my Gran was someone to be reckoned with — at least on the West Coast — and she wouldn’t be happy to come back to find me dead. Of course, it wouldn’t make much difference to me at that point.
I hustled out to the living room to find Sienna cracking one of my precious bottles of wine — a bakery grand-opening gift from the wine store that occupied the retail space next door. As she turned to pour Rusty a glass, she knocked over one of the barstools at the kitchen island flanking the living room. She wiggled the fingers of her free hand and the barstool froze in mid fall. Yeah, it was a flashy move — like I said, binding spells were Sienna’s specialty. I was just happy she hadn’t broken the globe wineglass in Rusty’s hand. I owned exactly three such glasses, made of actual crystal; the fourth had been smashed by an ex-boyfriend when I broke up with him. It had been an expensive lesson. Don’t break up with people when they’re in your home and holding onto fragile, expensive stuff.
“Hey, Rusty. Happy birthday,” I said as I entered the room. Rusty’s hair was brown, not reddish-orange as his name suggested. All witches of the earth persuasion — as in, they had an affinity for or sourced their power from the earth — usually took on a name that was also a color when their powers manifested. Unless they’d been born with that name, as Sienna and I had. Given our parentage, there was no doubt that we’d manifest some sort of witch gift, even if that gift was limited in our cases.
It was an odd, outdated witch tradition. Rusty’s mother was a necromancer, while his father was a witch. The necromancy — the ability to communicate with ghosts, or in some rare cases revive the dead — tended to only manifest in the female bloodline, so those powers were all but dormant for Rusty, which in my mind was less creepy all around.
Sienna’s boyfriend looked paler and more wan than usual as he leaned over to fuss with my jasmine plant. I always forgot to water it, but Rusty’s ministrations kept it two steps away from dead. By morning it would look practically as good as new. That was about as much necromancy magic as Rusty could wield, though.
“Up late last night?” I asked him as I snagged the third wine glass and held it out to Sienna. That was a fifty-dollar bottle she’d cracked, and I was damn well going to have a glass of my own wine.
“Yeah, you know,” Rusty answered. He slanted his eyes toward Sienna, who giggled.
“It was his birthday, we had to celebrate!” my sister said.
“Yeah, I’ve never quite celebrated like that before. I didn’t get up until two this afternoon.”
I could feel the binding spell on the stool weaken, and grabbed it before it could finish its crash to the floor. Sienna pouted at me. She liked to leave things hanging in midair, which, now that I thought about it, was good a metaphor for her life in general. Everyone always bumped into those damn stools, but I liked eating breakfast at the kitchen island. And by breakfast, I meant whatever piece of fruit was nearby.
Rusty swirled and sniffed his wine as he crossed by the island into the living room, then sprawled on my beat-up leather couch. I gave Sienna a warning look. Whatever she and Rusty had done last night obviously had an exhausting after effect. Rusty’s level of fatigue indicated the spell they used was beyond their ability, and therefore potentially dangerous.
Sienna shrugged her shoulders in response to my look. My sister liked boyfriends of a magical persuasion, and swore the sex was “out of this world better” with a little help from a spell or two. Of the two of them, Rusty was the more focused, so he took the brunt of the magical weight — hence his need to sleep. However, to judge by the smile plastered across his face, pale and tired or not, he wasn’t complaining.
“Vampires’ eyes go red when they’re angry, right?” I abruptly changed the subject to the problem occupying my every thought.
Rusty straightened out of his slump. “Your vampire came back?” he asked. Sienna must’ve filled him in on the bakery sighting.
“I thought you didn’t believe me,” I said to her.
“Whether you’re seeing things or not, it’s still good conversation.” My sister sipped her red wine.
“I
s that black lipstick?” I asked. Yes, I’m easily distracted.
“Really red. Irritated blood red.” Sienna smiled.
“Vampires’ eyes bleed red when they need or want to feed,” Rusty said, bringing us back on topic.
“I want to stop by Gran’s to look up vampire lore in the Compendium.”
“You really think one is stalking you? A full-blood?” Rusty asked.
“He looks it.”
“How would you know when you can’t even remember the eye thing?” Sienna asked, her regular smirk firmly in place.
“His magic coats him and glistens off his skin. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It makes sense,” Rusty said, thoughtfully. “They’d be classified as magical creatures if they weren’t so crazy smart.”
“I’m starving, Jade. Get the book tomorrow. Rusty remembers all that stuff anyway.” Sienna finished her wine in a single gulp.
I looked down at the glass in my hand. I hadn’t even tasted it. As I set it on the kitchen island, it looked a lot like blood.
Rusty scrambled off the couch. “I got you covered, Jade. Ask away. I studied magic and dead things my entire childhood. When, you know, the parents thought I might come into some actual talent. That included a lot about vampires.”
“After the restaurant,” Sienna said, as she spun toward the door. Her short, brown plaid skirt lifted to show a generous portion of upper thigh. Her dark hair was flat-iron straight and shiny.
I was so out of it that I hadn’t even noticed yet what she was wearing. I felt bad that I hadn’t made more of an effort with my appearance. But then, Rusty wasn’t my boyfriend.
Sienna led the way from the apartment. I forced myself to step through the wards, only breathing again after I wasn’t instantly attacked and drained.
I locked the door and turned to see that Rusty had waited for me at the top the stairs, his face in the shadow of the overhead floodlight.
“Just what is a full-blood vampire doing in Vancouver?” he asked. His voice was pitched low as if he didn’t want to startle me, but I had no answer.
Cupcakes, Trinkets, and Other Deadly Magic Page 2