High Stakes and Vampires (Pandora's Pride Book 2)

by Annabel Chase

  “It would be nice if she cared a little more,” I said.

  “Listen, I’m as quick to criticize Evadne as everyone else, but I kind of understand.”

  I glanced at Tate. “What is it that you understand?”

  “It’s the same reason she resists creating portals.”

  I thought of Liam and Saxon. “She messes up?”

  “I know she’s coming off as heartless, but I think she’s actually afraid to kill him,” Tate said.

  I stared at the survivor. “Maybe we can help him regain consciousness with a spell.”

  “Maybe.” Tate positioned herself on her knees beside the victim. “I don’t suppose your mage skills extend to reviving half-dead humans?”

  “If they did, there are a few travelers I wouldn’t have lost in the mountains.”

  Tate winced. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sometimes the mountain wins. Most of the time we win. I’ll still take those odds.”

  “Yeah.” She rubbed her hands together. “Let me see if I can use a rousing spell. I just don’t want to do anything too forceful and send his system into shock.”

  “I’ll see if I can find any other survivors.” I left her in charge of spells and explored the closest section of town. There were so many competing smells that I had a hard time picking them out.

  Saxon landed on the ground nearby and retracted his wings. “No survivors,” he said.

  “Except that one,” I said, motioning to the unconscious man.

  “Human?” Saxon asked.

  “Yeah. Tate is seeing if she can wake him.”

  We returned to the grassy patch where Tate’s hands glowed with a white hue. “Nothing’s working. I don’t think my magic is strong enough.”

  A lightbulb switched on in my head. “I have an idea.”

  “I’m not feeding him vampire blood,” Saxon said. “That won’t heal a human.”

  “No, we should take him somewhere nearby with powerful magic.” I looked at him. “We should take him to Wayzata.”

  “That’s coven territory,” Stan said as he and Howard joined us on the grass.

  “Yes, we were instructed to go to them for help if we need it.” I inclined my head toward the victim. “I think he qualifies.”

  Stan and Howard exchanged glances. “We don’t have authorization to go to Wayzata,” Howard said. “We have to jump through their hoops and it won’t happen quickly enough.”

  “Then leave us at the border,” I said. “We’ll take him with us.”

  “I can fly and meet you there to make room for him in the vehicle,” Saxon offered.

  “Can’t we put him in the trunk?” Evadne asked.

  “So he can roll around like a sack of potatoes?” I asked, aghast. “The man is hanging on by a thread. We have to treat him like he’s made of glass.”

  Evadne moaned. “Humans are so delicate.”

  Liam carried the victim and we piled into the Escalade with Saxon overhead. Although Wayzata was slightly closer than Minneapolis, it felt like it took longer because of our dire situation. Every moment of silence involved me listening for the reassuring sound of the survivor’s heartbeat.

  Howard parked as close to the border as he dared. “Good luck,” he said. “I’m sorry I can’t drive you directly there.”

  “It’s okay. We don’t want to start a turf war,” Tate said. “Tell Justin thank you for everything he’s done.”

  “He wants to know what you learn,” Stan said.

  Liam lifted the survivor into his arms. “He’ll be the third to know.”

  We left the Escalade and walked into town. Saxon offered to take the victim when he finally landed, but Liam declined.

  “I’m as strong as you are, remember?”

  “Not as strong as me, though,” Evadne said. “Maybe I should carry him.”

  “Are you sure you’re not afraid of dropping him?” Liam asked and I heard the taunting note in his voice.

  She scowled and surged ahead. “I see the sign for Belle Fleur,” she called over her shoulder. “It’s ugly, but it’s there.”

  I was relieved that the hotel wasn’t too far or difficult to find. It was only when we arrived at the entrance that we realized we’d forgotten an important piece of information.

  “We’re supposed to ask for cardamom, right?” Liam asked.

  “No, I don’t think that’s it,” I said.

  Liam’s brow furrowed. “Why not? Cardamom is a curry spice.”

  “It’s not for an actual meal,” Saxon interjected. “It doesn’t have to be a curry spice.”

  “But it was one.” I wracked my brain to remember what Abra had said.

  “I really need to pay more attention in meetings,” Liam said.

  “I usually do, but I didn’t think we’d need to come to Wayzata,” Saxon said.

  “Cumin?” I suggested.

  Tate pulled out her phone. “Why don’t I just text her?”

  Saxon put his hand on hers to stop her. “I think we should figure this out without asking.”

  Evadne grunted her agreement. “Seriously. Abra will have us…”

  The door flew open and a woman stood there with wild, curly hair, patches of flour on her face, and a rolling pin in her hand. “The code word is turmeric, you imbeciles. Now get inside before the whole town knows you’re here.”

  We filed into the cramped entryway. The walls were lined with shelves that housed books and trinkets that would’ve been more at home in a study.

  “You’ll have to follow me into the kitchen,” the witch said. “I’m in the middle of prepping the dough for the morning bread.”

  Liam glanced down at the dying man in his arms. “Um, I don’t think this would meet health and safety codes.”

  “You can’t stay out here. Too many eyes and ears.” The witch blew a coiled strand of hair from her eye. “No one’s gonna complain, least of all him.”

  We dutifully trailed behind her into the kitchen, which was even messier and more cluttered than the front room, with copper pots and pans dangling from the ceiling and ingredients scattered across the woodblock countertops.

  “I’m Cecily,” she said. She flicked a finger to the area behind us. “Put him in the alcove. I’ll see what I can make to help him.” She set the rolling pin on the counter and wiped her hands on her apron.

  “How can you make something when you don’t know what’s wrong with him?” Tate asked.

  “He’s unconscious, isn’t he?” Cecily asked. “Doesn’t take a brain surgeon to figure that out.” She busied herself in front of the spice rack, deliberating her choices. “What happened to him?”

  “We’re not sure,” Saxon said. “Did you hear about what happened in New Asche?”

  Cecily’s hand hovered over a container of herbs. “So there was an incident. I knew it.” Her face hardened. “I told those stubborn witches that there was something amiss and they told me to stop paying attention to the news. That everything was making me anxious after reading about those Whitney witches killing each other.” She cursed under her breath. “When will I start listening to my gut?”

  “The entire town of New Asche has been destroyed and that man appears to be the only survivor,” Saxon said.

  Tate inched closer to the witch. “He’s alive but barely. We’re hoping you can help us heal him.”

  Cecily eyed us suspiciously. “Because you want to help him or you want information?”

  “Can’t it be both?” Tate asked.

  Cecily pondered the question and finally acquiesced. “Yes. I guess it can.” She returned her attention to the herbs and spices. “Let me mix a broth that might revive him.”

  “Do you mind if I watch?” Tate asked.

  Cecily looked her up and down. “You’re Abra’s girl, aren’t you?”

  “Her granddaughter.”

  “Right.” Cecily nodded. “You have her eyes.” She unhooked a pot from one of the ceiling chains and handed it to Tate. “Here. Fill this with wate
r about three-quarters of the way and put it on the stovetop.”

  Tate did as she was told while the rest of us stood idly by. I glanced into the alcove, torn between wanting to watch over the victim and talking to Cecily about what happened.

  Cecily began measuring herbs and dumping them into a beaker.

  “How do you know my grandmother?” Tate asked. She set the pot on the stovetop and joined Cecily at the counter.

  “Abra and I met at a coven convention a long time ago.”

  Tate frowned. “We’re in the same coven?”

  Cecily snorted. “You’re not in any coven, little miss. Neither is your grandmother. Not anymore.” She handed the beaker to Tate. “Light the burner and dump these in the pot.”

  “Why isn’t she?” I asked.

  Cecily’s expression clouded over. “Witches don’t like it when lines are crossed.”

  Abra crossed a line? That seemed unlikely given what I knew about her.

  Evadne leaned her elbows on the counter. “She’s talking about the Pride.”

  “How is the Pride crossing a line?” I asked.

  Cecily eyed me curiously. “What rock did you crawl out from under?”

  Evadne laughed. “A big one. Practically a mountain.”

  “Witches don’t rely on other species for protection or anything else. We fought too long and hard for standing in the supernatural community. Abra shunned her kind when she chose to join forces with…” Her gaze swept the kitchen and she seemed to realize how many species were currently represented.

  “Why help us now then?” I asked.

  Cecily tipped the mixture into the pot and instructed Tate to stir as it boiled. “Because I know if Abra’s asking for help, then it’s a bad situation for everybody.”

  “But you still don’t want anyone to know you’re helping us,” Evadne said.

  “‘Course I don’t,” she snapped. She bumped Tate aside and gave the pot a final stir before switching off the burner. “I don’t want to be an outcast. This is my home.” She grabbed a beaker from the counter and scooped it into the broth. “I’ll see if this does the trick. Stay out here. I don’t need to get claustrophobic in the alcove.”

  We remained in the kitchen, anxiously waiting for an update.

  “Help yourselves to food,” Cecily called. “There’s a tray of Swedish meatballs in the refrigerator.”

  Liam brightened at the mention of meatballs. “That sounds like a good way to pass the time.”

  Tate warmed the meatballs with a spell and we devoured the entire tray within minutes. When everyone moved on to the tin of homemade cookies, I ducked into the alcove to check on Cecily’s progress.

  “Any luck?”

  Cecily looked up at me. “I don’t think there’s anything else I can do without the risk of killing him.”

  “What if you asked for help from the coven?”

  She shook her head, causing her curls to bounce in all directions. “Too much power will definitely kill him. Whatever we do, we need to keep it subtle.”

  An idea sparked in my mind. “Do you think he’s in a deep sleep?”

  Cecily regarded me. “Why? So you can kiss him and wake him up? This isn’t a fairy tale, honey. I don’t care how pretty you are.”

  “No.” I lowered my voice. “I might be able to…access him if he’s dreaming.”

  Cecily’s gaze darted to the kitchen and back to me. “I take it your friends don’t know about your little gift.”

  “One does, but it’s best if no one else finds out right now.”

  She grunted. “Secrets. You really are one of Abra’s, aren’t you?”

  “The only problem is that I need help falling asleep.” I was too worked up to sleep without help.

  The witch nodded. “There’s a potion I can use.”

  “How long will it take to make?”

  “You’re in luck because it’s already made. I have a number of regular clients who request it, so I always make sure to have a fresh batch ready.”

  “People come to you for sleeping potions?”

  “People come to me for a lot of things. I used to be a nurse before the Plague. That was my chosen profession. It allowed me to blend in and still use my powers. Didn’t want to be a doctor because of the student loans.” She chuckled. “If I’d have realized the Plague was coming, I would’ve made different choices.”

  “I’m sure you’re not the only one.”

  She pulled a wool blanket over the victim. “What are you anyway? I can’t get a proper read on you.” Cecily smoothed a few wayward curls.

  “Half mage,” I said.

  She squinted at me. “Psychic?”

  “No.”

  “But you can talk to him in his dreams?”

  “We’ll see.” I didn’t want to reveal any more than I already had. I would’ve preferred to say nothing at all, except I truly believed I might be able to help this man and find out what happened to him. To three thousand people in New Asche.

  Cecily crossed the kitchen and entered the walk-in pantry. She emerged a few moments later with a basket of materials.

  Evadne blocked our way back to the alcove. “What’s going on?”

  “What’s going on is that I’m ready for a cup of tea,” Cecily said. “Why don’t you make a pot of tea for everyone? You’re a smart girl. I’m sure you can figure out where everything is.”

  I returned to the alcove with Cecily and she handed me a vial of the potion. I downed it just as Saxon poked his head in the doorway.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  “We’re going to try something else,” I said.

  “I got that impression. Does it involve what I think it does?”

  I met his gaze. “It does.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on her,” Cecily said. “You manage your friends.”

  Saxon gave a curt nod before returning to the kitchen.

  Cecily smiled at me. “You lucky girl.” She grabbed a pile of blankets and a pillow from a shelf and tossed them onto the floor beside the victim. “Sweet dreams.”

  I yawned and sank onto the blanket. I could feel the potion taking effect. My body felt heavy and I settled against the pillow, willing sleep to come.

  It was a beautiful day with a clear blue sky and not a cloud in sight. Sunlight glinted off the roof of a hospital building.

  I knew instinctively that his name was Don Sutton and he was a doctor who liked to be called Dr. Don. He drove a Ford pickup truck to combat the Minnesota winters, although he would prefer to drive a fancier car. He was proud of the fact that he’d lost thirty pounds recently thanks to an exercise bicycle that he’d bought for himself during a Christmas sale. He’d put on extra beer pounds in the fall and was worried that his girlfriend was losing interest as a result.

  How could I know all this from a dream? With Saxon, I could interact with him, but I didn’t necessarily know his thoughts. Then again, Saxon was a hybrid with years of experience cloaking his thoughts from mind-reading fae. It made sense that that protective habit would filter into his subconscious.

  Dr. Don lingered outside the hospital waiting for his girlfriend to arrive. He checked his phone and tucked it away. Then he pulled an object from his pocket and smiled. An anniversary gift for his girlfriend. Another amulet—this one a red stone. He held the stone up to admire it in the sunlight and the world exploded.

  When the light returned to normal, I stood outside a dilapidated building as dozens of small creatures swooped down toward me. They resembled green goblins with beaks and wings that seemed too tiny for their bulbous bodies. They zoomed past me and hovered over the area where we’d found Dr. Don. I realized that, lined up as they were, their bodies formed the shape of an arrow. I’d never seen anything like them. I watched as another figure strolled onto the scene.

  A demon.

  The skin on his face looked cracked and dry. His shaggy hair brushed his shoulders and he wore a long red coat and cowboy boots. He strode forward and the gobli
ns parted to accommodate him. His boots sliced through the rubble like he was walking in water. He observed a spot on the ground and I knew it was Dr. Don. The demon crouched beside him and tugged the amulet free. He held it up for inspection and then turned to give his minions a triumphant smile, revealing teeth like tiny daggers.

  The goblins’ wings buzzed with excitement. Whatever this amulet represented, they were happy about it. The demon slipped the red stone into his pocket and walked away with the goblins surrounding him like moths to a flame, leaving Dr. Don to die.

  One of the goblins at the back of the line caught my attention. In his hand he clutched a fan made of black and grey feathers.

  Like a feather from a black-legged kittiwake.

  I wondered whether I was imagining it. Whether maybe my own memories were commingling with Dr. Don’s dream. I didn’t know how accurate these experiences were.

  A groan directed my attention back to the man in the rubble. I hurried over to the injured doctor and placed a comforting hand on his arm.

  “It’s going to be okay, Dr. Don,” I said.

  He looked at me and I saw the uncertainty reflected in his eyes.

  “I promise,” I said.

  He nodded weakly. “Thank you,” he whispered and closed his eyes.

  Chapter Ten

  We were silent upon our return to Atlantica City via Emil’s portal. I think we were all still shell-shocked from the devastation we’d witnessed in New Asche. I’d shared what I learned with the team and gave them the impression that Dr. Don had spoken to me thanks to Cecily’s enchanted broth. We left Dr. Don in the care of the Wayzata witches, who swore an oath that they’d be able to heal him eventually, but it would take time. I wasn’t sure what his life would look like once he’d recovered. His town was gone. His job. His girlfriend—the intended recipient of the amulet. Even if he physically healed, he’d never be the same.

  I snuck back to my room for a much-needed shower and rest before the inevitable debriefing. I knew there’d be questions and I wanted to have my head on straight. A tired Callie was a Callie who made mistakes and I couldn’t afford any of those right now. I crashed for two hours and my dreams were filled with goblins that buzzed like bees and pulsing black and red hearts. Despite the unpleasant images, I was relieved that I stayed in my own dreams. I was too drained to be confronted with anyone else’s psyche, even Saxon’s.