I frowned and dug my fingers into the rocky granules. After scooping up a handful, I poured it out of the hole I’d made by closing my fist. A long, white line began to form as I walked around the table, creating my first circle of protection. When I finished walking the circle, I stopped at the corpse’s head. It was the same spot I’d started from, but I was on the opposite side. I completed the circle by connecting the beginning of the salt line to the end. I felt the magic of the ritual seal within the circle. It popped together like a rubber band.
My fingertips tingled, begging for me to use the magic at my beck and call, but it wasn’t time yet. Something wasn’t right. I could feel it deep inside me, in a secret place where instincts lay in wait to pounce at you or yell bloody murder, before you did something stupid. That was exactly what was happening.
My eyes were drawn to the dirt being used as a makeshift holder for the candles. I was supposed to do something with that dirt. I just knew it. I walked over and gathered some of it up, an ample amount to fill my hand, but not enough to knock the candles over. The candles are important and must remain intact, my inner voice scolded.
I looked over at Rush for guidance, but all he did was smile. He was enjoying the ease with which the magic was coming to me. The feeling wasn’t mutual. I loathed being forced to do that.
With my free hand, I dipped my fingers in the water. After pulling them out of the jar, I used the excess that remained on my fingertips to drip into the dirt in my hand. I did it a few more times, until I had enough of it to adequately mix the dirt into mud. I leaned forward, and with great care, chose a spot on the corpse. I then coated my index finger with mud and traced over his heart.
With swift motion, I drew an image of a cross. The mud spread with ease, leaving a perfect rendering of the holy symbol marked in brown on the pale flesh of his chest. The candles flared, not once or twice, but three times, casting a shadow of foreboding over the room. I felt like a different person in that moment. I didn’t know if it was my strong adversity to vampires, or if it was the magic itself, but I wanted to scream, a release of pent-up tragedy and pain. Then I realized it wasn’t my own feelings that haunted me. They were feelings that belonged to souls approaching, banging on a metaphysical door for entrance.
It was time to finish the awakening. My arms flew outward, and comfortable heat began to rhythmically pulse between my eyes, the burn traveling across the tops of my brows, and then pouring down the side of my face like flowing lava. It continued its searing path down my neck and shoulders, and then completely filled the entire width of my arms. When the power settled to wait in the palms of my hands, a sense of euphoria consumed me. I felt myself smile, and I glanced over at the spectators in the room. They didn’t move, talk, or even dare breathe in my direction.
I held the power of life eternal in the palms of my hands, and it was a scary thing to behold. My head slowly turned back to the dead body lying prone before me on the table. What did this person do in his lifetime to deserve such a gift? I couldn’t help wondering. Did that question boggle the minds of all other Creators past, present, or future? Did they even care to whom, or why, they bequeathed their gifts?
My motives were simple; I had to save the innocent life of my sister. I looked down at the body for which my magic was intended. The life I was about to give him was only a loan, borrowed time, so to speak. I fully intended to track the soon-to-be monster down personally and take back every ounce of magic I poured into him. With that moral dilemma settled, I spread my arms wide and readily received the man’s soul calling to me, among the many, from out of the ether.
Chapter Thirteen
I took a deep breath that shook me. It was either that, or the steady flow of power filling me up so full, I half-expected to explode like a firecracker from the pressure. Now, wouldn’t that make a sight for the morbid eye? A fireworks show consisting of spurting blood, mangled flesh, and a grandiose finale of bone shards.
I pushed away the morose thoughts and focused all my attention on the corpse. My arms felt heavy as I held them out, beckoning for the spirit of Rafe Devereaux to answer my call. The spirit had been standing inside the circle by my side the whole time, but had disappeared moments earlier when the power started to build. I was left to assume that his spirit had been sucked up into the ether, churning and reforming, in preparation for being thrust back into his body.
The same kind of smoke that had invaded me earlier was steadily building up before me. It was the same consistency, but not alike in color. The ball of fog was grey, and instead of reaching for me, it left me, extending out in Rafe’s direction. My body reacted to the surging of power by shaking even more. Somehow, I was able to keep my eyes open and trained on the forming wall of fog. My teeth were about to shatter, I was gritting them so tightly.
When the smoke crept its way over to the table, it paused and eventually moved forward to hover above the body. I was shocked at what happened next. After a shrill shriek that shook the smoke mass, making it scatter into nothing, it reformed into the image of an eagle. The spirit bird spread its wings wide, and after another wail, it dove straight into the mark I had drawn on the body’s chest.
“What the fuck was that?” Rush’s panicked voice asked from behind me.
I couldn’t answer him. If he wasn’t sure about what that was, or how it came from my magic, I surely wouldn’t know. So far, I’d trusted my instincts by winging it. Maybe that was the problem. Did I neglect to follow some written protocol, and this could be my punishment for it? I was sure of one thing, however. That spirit-bird thing, flapping its wings in front of me, was big and scary-looking, and had me itching to say, “Screw this,” turn tail, and run.
Rafe’s body bowed in the middle and then slammed back down to the table. The corpse began to shudder and vibrate so fast, all I could make out was a blurry vision. The smoke bird lifted away from the body, only to immediately pounce back in. The strange dance happened several times. It was like the body was battling against the bird that was viscously attacking it.
No matter how freaked out I was, I held my ground. With my arms out before me, palms shooting off white light, sparks, and that smoke, I stood against my fear. Jude wasn’t as cool-headed as I was, however. He looked like a cat that just got its tail hacked off as he tried, with no luck, to enter my circle of protection.
Jude flew into the invisible wall several times, and each time, it bounced him right back off. Then the buzzing around the dead body abruptly stopped. I witnessed the spirit bird dive into Rafe one more time, but that time, the bird remained inside him.
A wash of light spilled out of my palms to cascade over him. I could barely see through the light flooding my eyes, but what I did witness was mind boggling. I watched as his chest melted in on itself, only to reinflate seconds later. When the pecs and other muscles filled back out, they did so to reflect a different visage. Rafe’s chest was no longer flat and ordinary looking. I squinted through the glare to get a better look at the brand new bumps and chiseled arches, to make sure I was actually seeing what I thought I had. Sure enough, his upper body looked tanned and muscled; it was a flawless masterpiece that had been constructed by magic. The miraculous transformation didn’t stop there. It continued to flow over him, collapsing sections of his body, reforming, leaving the image of sheer perfection in its wake. Even the long, white, puckered scar I noticed on his shoulder earlier was gone.
My arms fell, tingles of weariness creeping throughout my muscles, leaving them all but useless as they bounced off my hips to settle limply at my sides. I walked over to the man lying prone on the table. I kept my eyes glued to his stomach and chest. I was waiting for a rise and fall or any sign of life. Then I saw the mark. It was large enough to stick out like a sore thumb, but that was the first time I noticed it.
Hesitating, I lifted my almost useless arm and settled my fingers on the mark. His chest instantly moved against my light touch, but I didn’t flinch away. Instead, I circled the black, raised l
ines that had taken form over his heart. The lines swirled together to take the shape of wings that looked similar to the ones belonging to the smoke eagle that dove inside him. It was as if the new life I had given him had taken its own form and left evidence of itself as a mark on his chest. The wings were beautiful. Not even the most skilled of tattoo artists stood a chance at replicating them. The marking consisted of black-shaded outlines, a set of wings that were spread out, the feathers flaring at the bottom like they were about to catch air and take flight.
“Did it work?” The hushed question quivered from between Rafe’s lips. They were an enticing blush of red that bowed at the top, and at the bottom, curved to a lush. Kissable pillows, used to lure prey—a sinful promise of a death minion’s fatal kiss.
I removed my fingers from his chest and took a step back. Off to the side, I could see Rush and Jude standing against the barrier with their toes almost touching the salt circle.
“I can’t move,” the newly made vampire said, his voice low and frightened.
I stiffened, eyes darting around the circle, over his body, and then over to Rush. Have I done something wrong?
I looked down at my dagger, wanting to punch myself for the idea that came to me. Instincts be damned. I was hesitant to follow through with that one. Rafe’s groans returned me from my thoughts. He was frightened, suffering because of my delay. The last thing I wanted to do was feed a freakin’ vampire.
“Sorry,” I said, feeling responsible for his suffering.
He smiled at me through another groan.
In the next instant, the copper color of his eyes disappeared behind dilating pupils. I knew the sign for what it was; he was close to death.
I grabbed the dagger at my waist, but then I paused. I took a breath and sliced through the flesh of my forearm.
“Kris!” Rush yelled at me.
Jude’s protest of my actions was not far behind. I ignored both their worried calls and leaned over my vampire.
“Drink,” I said into Rafe’s ear, pushing the cut flesh of my arm up against his still lips.
At first, nothing happened. I rubbed my hand through his dark hair and urged him on again. “Fill your mouth with life, vampire. Awaken for me.”
I felt like a different person when I said those words. It was so unlike me to invite a vampire willingly to my vein, but it felt right in that moment. Rafe’s lips began to twitch, and then they opened. My blood slipped over his tongue, pouring into his mouth. The copper shone bright in his eager eyes, signs of his immortal life renewed. He sucked greedily, each pull sending tingles of warmth through my belly. After a short time, the vampire released his suction and smiled up at me.
“Thank you, mistress,” he said, before licking his tongue over my shallow wound, knitting the cut flesh back together after a few glistening, wet passes.
I stood, feeling light headed and embarrassed over how I had lost myself to the ritual. Rafe sat up, lifting his arms. He stared at them in awe. He flexed his long fingers and patted his chest and neck, then moved up to touch his face. A smile bloomed bright as a vivid red rose on a sunny day across his face, sending chills down my spine. For a second, I was happy with what my magic had wrought, fiercely proud of the life I created with my bare hands. But then my euphoric mood shattered, because I caught a glimpse of them—two sharp fangs. Candle light glinted off the harsh, pointy weapons as he grinned. I kicked at the salt on the ground. The protective barrier fell, and the men rushed to my side.
“It worked,” I whispered.
Jude went to hug me, but his ethereal form ended up falling right through me. He floated back a few feet, and instead, hovered as close to me as he could. I felt cheated of the warmth of his former body and swore to replicate the magic from before that had made it possible for me to touch him. I would find a way to make my best friend whole.
“Thank you,” Rafe said again. His voice was filled with sincerity.
He shifted his legs over the table and stood. I ignored the sexuality pouring off of him. I was used to it; I regularly hunted and killed his kind.
“If you want to thank me, then do so by making me a promise.”
He smiled, flashing those insufferable fangs. “Of course.”
“Promise to never take a human’s life. Not even accidently, while feeding. Can you do that?” I raised a brow.
I knew the request was a far-fetched one. It was in a vampire’s nature to hunt and kill his prey. I was already expecting him to lie, but I owed it to myself and any human he may come across before I could send him back to the grave, to at least give it the ole college try.
Rafe sat back down on the table. He ran a steady hand over his chest; he thumbed the eagle wings that covered his left pectoral muscle. His fingers roamed, traveling down farther, until they brushed across the thick ridges of his eight-pack. His body was something akin to a miracle…my creation. I couldn’t help thinking of him as mine. A life created darkly, but my creation, never the less.
He let his hands fall to the table, and with a turn of his thick neck, he looked at me with a set of bronze-colored bedroom eyes. Shocked, I realized that his copper orbs held a glow of compassion and understanding in them; that confused me. All the other vampires I’d come in contact with before were obviously killers, feral in their lust for blood. There was no hiding their wildness. Rationally, I could contribute their crazed state to the fact that those vamps knew I was about to end their worthless lives, but even before they were aware of that, their eyes told the tale of vile acts and lunacy against humans. That’s the kind of sick stuff you can’t hide behind a fake smile and hard abs…interesting.
Rafe nodded. Holding his right hand over his eagle mark, he vowed, “I promise you, my beautiful Creator, I will never take a human’s life.”
He stood, his naked body swaying like the hypnotic swing of a pendulum as he made his way across the room. Okay, the sight of his rock-hard body was a little tougher to ignore than his come-hither stare. The man radiated sex appeal.
Rush gave me an odd side look. Was he jealous?
The vampire stopped in front of me, so tall that he hovered, and bowed at the waist. When he rose, he did so with a smile and a wink for me. “No accidents, no murdering, nothing of the sort…got it. All life is precious,” he said.
I couldn’t help my slight smile. Rafe was a charmer, but for some reason, I believed the truth in his words.
“I’m glad that’s settled.”
Maybe I wouldn’t have to kill him, which could be a good thing, because even though it was sudden, I kind of liked that vampire. But only that one—no others.
I looked over to the phantom standing off to the side, watching us intently.
“What’s next?” I asked, exhausted, fumbling my words a little.
“We wait to hear from the boss man.”
“Okay, then. I guess we’ll stand around with our thumbs up our butts while we wait for the king to call.”
Rafe laughed. “You’re cute.”
“She’s not interested,” Rush hissed, his back up like a lion about to pounce.
Geez, rub your ass against the man once and all of a sudden, he thinks he has claim over it. Well, I did shove my tongue down his throat like I was drilling for oil…but still.
“Settle it down, boys; now’s not the time for that kind of crap.” I brushed Rush’s silly behavior off and freed myself from the cumbersome robe. “Here,” I said, tossing it at Rafe. “Use this to cover up with.”
“That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day,” Rush said.
Jude laughed. The men in my life were exhausting.
Chapter Fourteen
The phantom’s phone rang. I pushed up from the wall and listened while he answered.
“It was a success,” I heard him mumble. “No, the vampire seems fine. There is one thing, though.”
The phantom turned his back to us. We had stayed as far away from him as the room allowed while we waited, all of us anxious to leave. Even Rafe sat
composed on the ground next to me, not saying a word. His head was down, resting upon his crossed arms, which were balancing on his knees. He hadn’t tried to bite me once. One more gold star on the blood-sucker’s report card.
“She marked him,” the phantom whispered. He shouldn’t have bothered; the stone walls bounced his hushed voice throughout the room. We could hear everything. “I don’t know. I wasn’t close enough to get a good look. I think wings of some sort.” He listened, and then said, “Okay, yup. Not a problem.” He hung up the phone.
The phantom brought his hand to his forehead and scratched it. “Looks like you’re free to go. Boss says we’ll finish this tomorrow night.”
I jumped to my feet. “If you think I’m going to leave my sister alone with him for another minute, you have a crack in that thick skull of yours.”
The phantom threw his hands out as I stormed towards him. I looked down at my palms and noticed that I had inadvertently turned on the juice. My hands sought his energy, wanting to yank him out of the body he was squatting in. I wanted to wrap him into a little ball and shoot him straight to Hell, where he belonged. The monster backed up. He was cowering away from the light in my hands, looking scared, and rightfully so.
“You took longer than expected. Boss says tomorrow night or nothing,” he said. His voice wavered, but he cocked his chin up, pretending not to be afraid.
I didn’t believe the ‘nothing’ part. Wolf needed me enough to go to great lengths to orchestrate it all.
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