by Ruby Raine
He imagined, terrifyingly so, his panic was only making hers worse.
He needed to help, not freak her out even more. Charlie sucked in a few calming breaths, trying to get past this panic and initial horror of what was happening. He needed to stay strong and calm, for Lizzy. This was all about her, and what she needed.
“I was really hoping you were asleep. Dreaming. Nice dreams. If there was any magic I could use to undo this, I’d break a hundred rules, Lizzy. But I swear to you, I will not do anything that forces you into a life you do not want. I will not force my will, or wants, on you. I almost bit you and I’m so sorry. I almost took away your choice.”
This was it, dreaded Charlie.
This was the trial Nina had been compelled to warn him of.
If he’d thought everything he’d gone through in his life to date was difficult in some way, it was nothing. Now, it was nothing. This was the new measure of terror. And temptation. One bite would save her and heal her... it would also turn her into a werewolf for the rest of her life. A choice there was no going back on.
With the understanding that the woman he loved was lying on this hospital bed living out her worst nightmare, a true living hell, Charlie concluded there was no greater evil in existence he would ever face.
Lizzy wished she could respond in any way.
His voice soothed her panic, even though he was clearly losing his mind and had no clue how to handle this situation.
She wasn’t sure who had it worse.
The woman with no options. And no say. And no working anything, but her mind.
Or the man sitting at her bedside with all the options, and no idea the right thing to do, for her?
Another harsh reality was breaking through her tiny little world of darkness.
If there was no medical way to fix her, or no magical way, this left only two options: let Charlie bite her, or let Grayson bite her.
Either way, werewolf or vampire, she’d be healed from this nightmare but her life, forever altered, and one of the men she loved would be broken and left behind. She’d literally be poisonous to whichever man she did not choose. There would be no changing her mind or realizing she’d made a terrible mistake... this choice was for keeps.
How long did she have it in her, to wait?
How did she decide it had been long enough?
How did she even share her choice with anyone?
What if death came for her before she had the chance to speak again? There were suddenly so many things she wanted to say and no way to do so.
And what if fate dealt her the devastating blow of being a living corpse lying in a hospital bed? What then? Because that was not a future she was prepared to accept.
Werewolf?
Or vampire?
Two options. Two entirely different futures.
She imagined being at hell’s door, not that she was far away, and pictured herself with only seconds to determine her future. Who did she choose? Which life did she want?
Did she remain with Grayson, her past, and a possible forever future, and the vampire she once thought of as her one true love? A man who’d suffered so tremendously for her.
Or grab onto a future with Charlie? A werewolf who’d stolen her heart so fully, almost overnight. And could give her the one life she’d always wanted, as a witch, a teacher, and possibly even a mother.
Grayson Moone, or Charlie Howard?
WICKED GOOD WITCHES BOOK 10
Dead Witch Walking on Hollow Graves
Supernatural Protectors: A Legacy of Magic
EMILY MORGAN, THAT is, the spirit of the dead woman who took control of Emily’s body, her mother, slowed the car and turned down a dirt road. It was packed down, hardened, easy to drive across, but dust spit out behind the tires, just the same.
She let out a relieved sigh.
The trip from Maine to Georgia had been long, hot, and exhausting. Her butt was sore from all the sitting. And how strange, to feel those things in a human way again, having been dead these last few years. Of course, it was really her daughter’s body taking all the abuse.
The heat and humidity only made the trip seem even longer. Emily’s air-conditioning was barely working, something that went unnoticed on the breezy Demon Isle. Especially since Emily drove very little during the summer. But breath-stealing amounts of heat and humidity wasn’t about to stop her from getting Emily to the one woman who could help: her aunt. Who Emily had never met, and sadly, wasn’t even aware existed.
It was getting late now. Hopefully, the summer heat had kept her from heading to bed too early. If her sister hadn’t changed any, and there was little chance of that, there’d be no air-conditioning in the house, even though it was a thousand degrees and so humid that sucking in oxygen was nearly impossible without drowning.
Emily’s mother had no other options and not much time. She wasn’t certain of the extent of her time left in the ghostly plane on earth before her work would be considered finished, and she’d be called to move on.
A few minutes later she pulled into the drive. There was a woman swinging gently on the front porch, as hoped. No doubt trying to cool off. But even with all these years that had passed, like expected, nothing had changed.
Spirit Vessels were like that.
Predictable.
Creatures of habit.
Well, most of the time anyway.
Which was the point, wasn’t it? The reason she and her sister had a falling out and split apart. Her sister despised change. Thought it unnecessarily dangerous, mostly considering who they were and what they could do. The same way their mother, and her mother, and her mother, and on and on, had all lived.
But Emily’s mother couldn’t tame the restless streak that haunted her from childhood. And looked where she’d ended up... who was dead and who alive? It made a deceased wife, mother, and sister, wonder if she hadn’t been wrong in thinking she could live a life of instability.
Regardless of all this, her sister was the only woman she trusted to help Emily.
The woman on the porch stretched to her feet, stopped fanning herself, and stared questioningly at the unexpected vehicle pulling in and parking in her driveway. Emily’s mother, in her daughter’s body, shut down the headlights and climbed out of the car.
“Evening. Can I help you?” called out her sister. “Are you lost?”
Emily’s mother approached slowly, her own nerves prickling. Perhaps her sister would shoo her away like a fly, still too angry over their split, and refuse to help. The woman waited at the top of the stairs, not nervously so. Her head cocked to the side a little, like there was something she recognized, but not exactly.
“Hello, Luciana,” Emily’s mother called out gently.
“I’m sorry. Do I know you?”
Emily’s body came into better lighting from the porch.
“It’s been a long time, Luciana. My darling Little Lucy.”
The woman on the porch gasped, stepping back with a shake of her head. “Only one person ever called me that.”
“It’s me, Lucy.”
“Oh dear lord, have I died?”
A light laugh. “No. But I’m still dead.”
“Lily? My dear Lily, is it really you?”
Emily’s mother, Liliana Morgan, made it to the top of the stairs and stood in front of her sister. Her twin. They were identical in life, other than the oddity of Lucy being three inches shorter. Hence the nickname, Little Lucy.
The Arnaud sisters together again, if not how they might have imagined.
Lucy had kept her mother’s name, having never married, and feeling it necessary to carry on that name as a Spirit Vessel. But she’d also never had any children of her own. Something she was too old to do now, at fifty-one. Sure, some women tried it, but no way in hell was she ever trying a damn fool thing like that!
Lily had changed her name to Morgan when she got married to Emily’s father.
Lucy dropped the hand clutching her heart.
&nb
sp; “I get the how,” she spoke in stunned sharpness, “but I cannot for the life of me imagine the why you’re wearing a meat suit, and standing on my porch. Lily, dear lord. I think my heart might stop.”
Lily assisted her shocked sister back to the swing. They just stared at each other for an eternity that in reality was only a few minutes.
“So who does this meat suit belong to? How did you find a willing vessel?”
Lily stalled for a second. Stumbling over her words.
“Well, not so much willing as... untrained. My um, my daughter. Emily.”
Lucy gasped. “Oh my God. This... you... this is Emily.”
She nodded. “Isn’t she beautiful?”
“Yes. Yes, she is. I can see it in her eyes. That familiar spark of Arnaud charm.”
“She has that in spades.”
Lucy stared her sister down. “I never thought I’d see her, or you again. I never broke my promise. I wanted to after you died. But I did not.”
“And what a terrible thing I asked you to do.” Her tone begged forgiveness, and apologized, admitting she had been wrong.
“I will never disagree with that. But why on earth are you borrowing your daughter’s body? Last time we spoke she was just an infant, and we,” Lucy’s tongue got tied, a pained smile, weak on her face.
“We left things between each other,” Lily trailed off with a look of personal dismay, equally tongue-tied. She straightened herself. “We did not do right by each other, Lucy. Me more so than you. I’m so sorry. So, so, so sorry. I fear I was wrong in my thinking. And now my Emily is paying the price, and that’s why I’m here.”
“Oh, Lily. Wrong, right, we were both too damn stubborn either way! And fates be determined I still am. And I’d wager you too, even after your death. Seeing as you haven’t moved on and are currently sitting on my doorstep wearing your daughter as a meat suit.”
Lily grabbed her sister’s hand. “Oh, Lucy. It’s been so long.”
“Oh dang it! Screw the past!” Lucy dragged her twin into an embrace so long overdue neither had ever thought it would happen. Mainly seeing as one of them had died a few years ago. They broke apart after a minute, even with their little mini makeup, Lily nervous about what she needed Lucy to do.
It took her such a long time to even try to open her mouth, Lucy guessed.
“You never did tell her, did you? Still afraid I would not keep my mouth shut and tell Emily what she was?”
Lucy deflated into a puddle of regret. “I did not tell her. You’re right. And Emily’s father granted my wishes as well. And exactly as you warned me, to her own detriment. A spirit tried to use her, and she had no idea what was happening. Thankfully, it was a good spirit, and Emily had friends in witchy places.”
“So it’s true then? Witches, on The Demon Isle?”
“Yes. Good ones. Very good ones, who helped my dear Emily when I, or her father,” her voice caught, “did not.”
“What’s happened, Lily?” As twins, they’d always been able to read each other’s gestures easily.
“Emily’s father is dead.”
Lucy sucked in. “I’m so sorry. His health wasn’t always so good, but he wasn’t that old.”
“No. Had ten years on me, and a bad back. But his early death isn’t the worst of it. He was murdered, Lucy.” She gasped at her sister’s revelation. “Murdered right in front of Emily.”
“Oh, spirits! That poor girl.”
“There’s so much more, I’ll tell you everything. I just had to find you and get my daughter to you. She’s so lost. Alone. Broken.”
“Her witch friends were not able to help?”
“They tried, but this is something she needs to do for herself. You were right, Lucy. I could not protect her from it. I failed. I did not succeed in giving her the free life I wanted her so desperately to have.” She raised her hand, wiggling the empty finger. “The ring was stolen the day her father was murdered. I need you... I need you to help my daughter. I need you to train her. Properly. As I failed to do. As I made you promise never to do. I need you to break that vow.”
“She doesn’t even know I exist.” There was a hint of bitterness mixed in with the shock of it all.
There was a sniffle and a wiped eye. “I’m sorry, Lucy. I cannot say it enough. That argument we had all those years ago, why didn’t you just slap some sense into me?”
“I tried.”
She had at that. A hard slap across the face that only fueled the fire for Lily to leave and live her life the way she wanted. There was a light laugh that was edged also, in sadness. “If only I had listened, my Emily wouldn’t be in this position today.”
“I can’t say as you were completely in the wrong, Lily,” admitted her twin. “I was scared. Too scared to change. I have often regretted many of the things we said to each other. Things I was too afraid to do. And even more so after you left.” She lifted her hands, waving them around her. “I never did move on. Or forward. I’m still stuck. Change still frightens the living crap out of me.”
“Same as our mother. But I did move on. And look at me. Wearing my daughter as a meat suit. Left her unprepared to face the rest of her life. Left her believing she was alone in this world after her father and I passed on.” Lily didn’t give her twin the chance to speak. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you but when I free myself from Emily, there’s a possibility my work here may be considered finished, and I might have to move on. I’m hopeful my business is not yet done. I’d like to stick around and help you train my daughter. But I may not have a choice in the matter. If I get my door, I have to go. Please, Lucy. Set aside everything between us, even if you never forgive me fully, please, help Emily. Teach my daughter.”
Lucy looked away, staring into the night.
She’d been moments from heading inside for the night. Off to dreamland.
This, in a million years, is not what she had expected to come to her doorstep.
NIGHT NUMBER THREE ended much as it had started.
With William Wakefield one ornery ass vampire, growling, grumbling, and pacing. In that order, non-stop. Hour after hour.
Until now. Feeding time.
He’d just eaten his bloody breakfast and was holding his breath as if this might somehow make the relief last longer. It was mostly animal blood, laced with human. The very last feeding that included any human blood at all. From here on out it was one hundred percent useless, taste-like-ass, animal blood. He already loathed his next feeding and the zero relief it would give his hunger.
In mere minutes, the calm this meal brought with it abandoned his muscles, screaming for another hit of the good stuff. His fangs refused to retract. Too hungry. He let out a ragged sigh and growled. Grumbled incoherently, and started pacing again.
Three hours until the next dose.
He was entering into the worst stage. Twenty-four hours of total agony. Complete loss of sanity or control. He was so close already. The threads of his giving-a-shit about anything, unraveling little by little.
Riley loitered right outside his cell, raking teeth across his lips, heartrate accelerated with each hour that passed watching William’s normal control fade into a surly strain of bloodlust that was getting harder to witness. Mostly because it was getting painfully obvious the worst part was about to begin.
The first day the blood doses had kept the vampire fairly calm, but the fourth day was not going to be so forgiving. Riley watched the moment the blood surged through the vampire offering needed relief, followed by the moment it wore off leaving him starving for more. Dangerously starving. And the wearing off was happening faster with each dose.
Riley looked up to see two scathing black eyes boring into his own.
He hoped the cell would hold the vampire and his bursts of rage. William insisted it would and that it had never failed yet. But this look, it was venom. Pure boiled venom. As for what the vampire was thinking? Probably along the lines of wishing Riley was tied to a pyre and being tortured at the ha
nds of the vampire. In the same manner Riley had done to him.
In reality, it was so much more than wanting to cause mere pain.
William spun around and closed his eyes, letting loose a low snarl while attempting to gain some clarity. When he saw the young man outside his cell, he saw his own future shriveling up and dying. He saw the young man living out his life. And himself, stuck in the reality of forced acceptance when Melinda chose the young man, or some other human man, as she should. He saw the life he wanted and could not have.
The bitterness of this truth sent his fist slamming into a wall.
Riley jumped, startled, and yet not. He wasn’t sure if perhaps he needed to get that werewolf blood handy, just in case.
But William straightened himself and put on a calm façade. A brave face, just like the one he’d put on for the rest of his life. And somehow, survive the torment. It was that or just stay away, or end his life now. That almost sounded like a good idea. Why wait? This bloodlust torture might end, but there’d just be a new torture around the corner. That was his real life... one long line of tortuous events.
Melinda had barely left William’s thoughts since he’d said goodbye to her in that crazed dream she’d been having. Not being at her side had him on edge. He was here to do the right thing for her, though admittedly, it would not be easy to go home and be so blasé about the whole thing. If she took Riley back, he’d suffer through it. There was no other viable option.
See, he told his crazed mind. Rational thoughts.
But if Melinda denied Riley, it would just be some other male. Some other excuse for a man touching her. Defiling her. Loving her. He let out an irritable snarl; there was no rational thought when it came to Melinda, bad detox trip or not. He was just reaching the hardest point. He’d not be able to control the things he said. Or did. Having Riley be his keeper might prove an error. He’d end up frightening the kid to death and pushing him away from the Isle, and Melinda. Not back to it.
There was a stagger, a wince, and a hand grasping a chest.
However, it was not William, but Riley.