Anselm chuckled and hesitated a moment before sighing. I watched as he dug in his pocket to take out his phone. He moved slowly as he looked for the correct number.
Clearly, he knew he needed help too.
“Hey,” Anselm said into the device. “Can you bring by some blood? I’m in a bit of a spot.”
I couldn’t hear Grey’s reply.
“Neither. Just enough substance to find my own way,” he replied to whatever comment Grey had given. “Some of us don’t have time to dispose of the bodies,” Anselm went on to say, and I could only imagine what Grey had said to him in return. “Okay, Jack,” Anselm said again, humor in his voice this time. “Never mind. I’m just going to starve.”
Anselm hung up, resting his head against the armrest as he lay back down. I frowned, but Anselm was already drifting to sleep. He was still out of it, and I wished that I could do something for him. I couldn’t even go to the store and buy him blood.
I was so useless sometimes.
Curling on his chest, I lay down as worry nagged at me. I hated myself for being unable to help him. If I were sick and needed help, Anselm would move heaven and hell for me. I knew that, but as a stupid cat, I couldn’t even open the front door and get the blood he needed myself. I couldn’t even offer it from my own body.
Anselm reached up, rubbing my head. I could tell he was trying to comfort me, trying to soothe my worries even though he was the one in trouble. The soft strokes lasted until he seemed to fall asleep again.
Two hours, maybe less, passed before there was a knock on the door. Anselm’s eyes popped open as the knocking came again. He groaned but sat up. After he put me down onto the floor, he wobbled to his feet, taking a moment to steady himself before we both walked towards the door.
When Anselm pulled open the door, Grey’s smiling face was on the other side. He held up a cooler with the blood bank’s logo.
“Let me in,” Grey said.
“Only because you bought blood,” Anselm countered as he stepped back.
Grey came into the house, and Anselm shut the door behind him.
“You look like shit, man,” Grey said as the two vampires moved towards the living room.
“Still better than you,” Anselm said, and Grey scoffed as they both settled on the sofa.
Grey opened the cooler and passed a bag over to Anselm. Slowly, probably much more slowly than he wanted to, he raised it to his mouth and drank.
“If you were that hungry, you should have just eaten the cat,” Grey told Anselm.
I hissed at the vampire.
“I like the cat more than I like most people—including you,” Anselm told him, getting out another pack and tearing it open so he could continue to eat.
“Do you know any dark witches?” I asked Grey. Since he was here, he might as well be useful. Though I guessed we owed him for bringing Anselm some blood.
Grey looked from me to Anselm. “What do you need a dark witch for?” Grey asked, his red eyes mostly on Anselm.
“Oh, you know, the standard cursing someone,” Anselm said.
Grey leaned back in his chair. “You try Cassius?”
Anselm had known Grey longer then he’d known me. The two of them were friends. They had used to hunt together or at least that was what Grey had said. Cassius I had only recently heard about.
“No answer. You know him.” Anselm reached for another bag.
“Yeah, can’t stay still for more than two seconds. I can ask around for you. I heard two covens from the old world just got into it; a few witches were taken out,” Grey went on to say, relaxing on the sofa as Anselm continued to eat.
“There aren’t many covens left from that time. Usually, they tend to band together. Something serious must have happened for there to be a fight,” Anselm said before going back to sipping on the bag of blood he’d retrieved.
“I haven’t heard anything, but you already know old blood is dying out—being taken out slowly. People don’t like the old order of things. They want new leaders for the new world,” Grey said. I looked between him and Anselm. What were they talking about?
Was something going on that I didn’t know about? Who was the old blood they were speaking of? Did they mean people like Charlotte and William—witches from before the world had learned about supernatural creatures?
Was Charlotte a part of this battle between covens? Was her brother? Where was William now? Was he dead as well? Even though I’d moved past my one-sided crush on him, I didn’t want him to die. I supposed, in the end, William’s fate had nothing to do with me, but still, I didn’t wish for any harm to come to him.
I glanced at Anselm. “Do you think that’s when she died?”
It made sense, didn’t it?
“Maybe,” Anselm replied. “It’s rare for a witch to die of natural causes. At least, I’ve yet to meet one who has.”
Grey looked towards us again as though he was trying to piece it together. He knew that I had been human once before. And that I was cursed to be a cat forever. However, he didn’t know all the things that had just started happening.
“I doubt Cassius was involved. He never liked the structure of a coven,” Anselm went on to say.
“Too many rules.” Grey did this fake voice that I guessed was supposed to be Cassius. I’d never met the man.
“You mean I have to do what he says?” Anselm used a mocking tone as well. He was still going through the blood packs between conversation.
The two of them laughed.
“You three were close?” I asked. I could hear the familiarity in their voice and noticed how they both seemed to relax a bit more while making fun of their friend.
“We were bound together for a time long ago,” Anselm explained.
“Then Cassius set a little fire. Anselm found a cute boy to keep his bed warm. And I went to Africa,” Grey said. “You can only do something for so long before it gets boring.”
“You weren’t bored. You were wanted by authorities. And it wasn’t a little fire,” Anselm retorted, shattering Grey’s version of events.
“So he burned down half of London. You only care because your house burned too. I always thought it was silly you held a grudge this long.” Grey pushed his fingers through his dark hair as he spoke.
“I loved that house, and it’s hardly been three hundred years,” Anselm protested.
“He offered to buy you a new one,” Grey said.
Did they not care about the people who died?
“Why must you always take his side? You could stand to pop your dick out of his mouth,” Anselm countered, finishing one bag and reaching for another.
Grey laughed. “Hey, man, I was on your side for like two hundred years. Then when I wanted to get the gang back together, you were still mad and playing with your pussy.”
I rolled my eyes. Of course I was the pussy he referred to.
“I’m still mad. And I’m still playing with my pussy,” Anselm told him.
Grey shook his head. “Well if you need his help, what are you going to do?”
I looked at Anselm. We needed Cassius’s help. He was the only dark witch Anselm knew. Without him…what would happen to me? We didn’t have a lot of time. Every time I turned human, I must have started to age again. Or maybe it didn’t matter if I was a cat or a human anymore. Was I aging once more no matter what form I took because Charlotte was dead?
What was Anselm going to do? If he was still upset, could he let the fact Cassius had burned his home down go?
“Obviously I’m going to let him buy me a new house and call it even. Then, he’d better help me,” Anselm said. I laughed softly, shaking my head. Even if he was given a new house, I didn’t think he would leave this one. It had been our home for years now. Plus, I liked it here.
“Well, I have an idea. There’s an underground casino opening tonight. Good place to rub elbows with the kind of people who can find a witch.” Grey’s lips tugged up at the sides.
“I thought you gave
up gambling after White’s?” Anselm glared at his friend. Grey was the kind of person who always wanted to take the highest risk in order to reap the highest rewards. I guessed it had worked out so far for him. He was older than Anselm. A pureblood.
“But the humans make it so easy,” Grey whined.
“Do you remember that time they tried to burn you at the stake? Because I do. Those were good times,” Anselm said, and Grey laughed again. Anselm joined in. It was good to hear him laugh. Maybe he was feeling better?
“Do you want to come or not?” Grey questioned.
“I will come. At the very least, there will be a body to bring home,” Anselm replied.
“Leave the pretty kitty home,” Grey told him, and I hissed at the vampire, who hissed back at me, baring his fangs, though I knew he wouldn’t actually do anything. He was always talking shit and telling Anselm to leave me behind.
“Edmund has his own mind. He decides for himself,” Anselm said.
“You spoil that damn cat too much.” Grey sighed.
I rolled my eyes. “You’ve done your job. Now go away,” I told the vampire, waving my paw at him.
He glared at me before looking at Anselm. “You should be warned”—Grey switched into an old dialect, one I didn’t know, but clearly Anselm did.
He frowned and shook his head before replying to Grey.
I looked between the pair. What were they talking about?
Grey spoke again, rolling his eyes as he did so. Anselm glared but said nothing as he finished off the last of the blood packs that had been delivered. “So it’s settled then?” Grey asked, ignoring me. “I’ll text you the address—or are you riding with me?”
“We may as well arrive together.” Anselm sighed, giving a shake of his head. I peered up at him. He was looking a bit more like himself, but clearly he wasn’t happy either.
What had Grey said?
Rising, Anselm started towards his room. I jumped off the sofa, following behind him. I didn’t want to be left out in the living room with Grey.
“What was that about?” I asked once we were alone.
“Grey being himself,” Anselm said but didn’t elaborate.
I hopped onto the bed, letting it go. It was probably nothing anyway. Anselm would have told me otherwise. Plus, I had more to worry about than whatever Grey had told Anselm.
Maybe someone at the casino would know where Cassius was.
And then . . . then I would refresh my curse, I supposed. It was what I wanted, right?
It was getting harder to tell.
Anselm
Exhaustion pressed down on me. Despite the few hours of rest I’d gotten, it was hard to focus on the people draped in jewels and dressed in luxury that flowed around me. They laughed at bad jokes told by their companions, danced with whoever looked as if they had enough money to keep them in style, ate rich food, drank expensive liquor, and moved between the multiple tables that were filled to occupancy.
Crystals dripping with light illuminated the area. Soft music flowed through the room, just loud enough not to drown out the numerous voices speaking in unison. The air was tainted with happiness; it was a sickly-sweet smell that curled and wrapped around us like a candy store clerk’s perfume.
Everyone was hoping to see someone win big or lose. It didn’t seem to matter so long as they were entertained.
Grey had disappeared into the crowd. No doubt he would be a much poorer man come sunrise. Wealth came and went for men like us. He could survive without money even if it wasn’t a pleasant existence and much unlike the one he’d grown accustomed to.
Edmund stood beside me, dressed as elegantly as those around us. In the dress he wore, he looked good enough to eat, I appreciated it even though it had required a shopping trip that had cut into the time I could have used to rest.
I laid my hand on his lower back, guiding him into the crowd. We couldn’t stand on the outskirts if we intended to find Cassius Ruda. My old friend would likely be in the thick of things even though I very much doubted he was here tonight. Gambling had never been his vice.
Plus, there was the little issue of the demon Grey had mentioned earlier. Even I wanted to avoid him. It would be best for everyone involved if we completed our business tonight quickly. If luck was on our side, someone here would know what Cassius was up to. Even better, maybe we would find someone who ran in the same circles he was occupying these days.
“What does Cassius look like?” Edmund questioned.
I snatched a champagne flute from a passing waiter’s tray.
“You’ll know Cassius when you see him,” I assured Edmund.
The dark witch had never blended into a crowd. He stood out, proudly declaring what he was simply by the aura around him.
“You think you should drink that?” Edmund questioned, his eyes drifting to the crystal flute.
“It isn’t for me,” I replied, holding it out to him. He curled his fingers around the glass, the tips of them brushing again mine. My whole body was aflame with the innocent touch.
I could taste him on my tongue even though his blood wasn’t the last I had enjoyed. I almost wished it had been, but that would have been dangerous. I had been so hungry a few hours ago, hungrier than I had been in centuries. If I had sunk my teeth into him, I would have drained him dry and walked into the sun at daybreak because of the loss of him.
“It tastes sweet,” Edmund said.
I glanced down, seeing him pull the flute from his lips.
Grasping his wrist, I brought the glass to my nose and inhaled. “Peaches,” I told him.
It wasn’t cheap by any means. Someone had gone all out for opening night.
“Are you going to gamble?” Edmund asked, and I glanced towards the tables.
In my past, I had been rather good, but it had been a long time.
“You can be my good luck charm,” I teased, my lips at his ear, before I began to guide him around the room, looking for a game I could play at a table that wasn’t full.
As luck would have it, the table Grey sat at had an empty chair.
I fell into it, pulling money out of my pocket and placing it onto the table.
The dealer took it, and I pulled Edmund into my lap, letting him rest on my knee as he sipped his drink, watching the players around the table until the hand ended.
As the next one began, the dealer gave me my chips and dealt me in.
Seven cards lay face down in front of me.
I looked to the man left of the dealer. His red hair cascaded down his back in waves. There was a hard look in his gaze, as if his stare was meant to intimidate us.
Turning over a card, he exposed a nine of diamonds.
He threw a red chip into the middle of the pile.
Everyone who wanted to remain in the game threw a red chip in as well.
The next man, a man with skin the color of a just minted copper coin and eyes the same shade as amber in the sunlight, went after the redhead, exposing a three of spades. It wasn’t enough. He flipped again, revealing a king of spades. The guy between Grey and me made a soft sound in the back of his throat. The redhead who’d flipped a nine of diamonds was disappointed if the draw of his thick brows was any indication.
None of the others were nearly as easy to read, including Grey.
The man with amber eyes, the one who now had the highest card on the table, threw in a black chip. Everyone threw in a matching chip.
The woman beside him, a pretty brunette with her breasts spilling out of her dress, flipped her first, second, and third card. She ended with a pair of sixes and gave everyone a saucy grin while dragging her fingers across the top of her breast. It was meant to be distracting, and the action did draw the attention of several men. Grey spared her no glance. Nor did I. She wasn’t my type.
“I don’t have a clue what’s going on,” Edmund said, his fingers curled around the nearly empty flute of champagne I’d given him. “Who’s winning?”
“No one,” I replied. “B
ut right now, she”—I nodded to the woman with sixes—“is in the lead. She has a pair—two cards of equal value,” I explained, loud enough for the others to know we weren’t plotting, and I was just explaining the nature of the game to my companion.
“So that’s a good hand?” Edmund asked. The man between Grey and I snorted.
Grey laughed outright.
“It remains to be seen,” I answered, not willing to insult the woman. “If no one turns anything over, it could win. It just depends on the cards.”
“Doubt it,” Grey said.
“Turn your hand then,” the woman who had a pair spoke, her voice sharp, demanding.
I found I automatically liked her. She was clearly here to win. And unwilling to let the men think she didn’t know what she was doing.
Grey flipped his first card. It was a jack of hearts—not enough to beat a pair of sixes. He turned his next card, and the woman huffed, sitting back in her seat. Dark curls danced on her collarbone.
“Because jacks are higher than sixes, even though Grey has a pair as well, he currently has the best hand,” I told Edmund, settling my hand on his thigh. He leaned back, pressing against me. The dress he wore, the one I had talked him into during our shopping trip, was long, black, and slit clear to his hip. I was tempted to part the fabric and feel his warm flesh under my hand, but now wasn’t the place nor the time for that.
Grey threw in two black chips, worth two hundred dollars in total. Everyone followed suit.
My gaze drifted to the man beside me. He flipped his first card, his second, his third, his fourth, his fifth, and then his sixth. A grin pulled at his lips, and he chuckled, clearly satisfied with himself, before throwing three black chips into the pile.
“He has a full house,” I told Edmund, examining the nine of hearts, diamonds, and spades, as well as the three of hearts and three of clubs, “which is hard to beat. You need four of a kind—four cards of equal value—a straight flush, which is five cards of the same suit in order, or a royal flush, which is an ace, king, queen, jack, and ten, all of the same suit.”
“Can you beat it?” Edmund questioned, shifting just enough to peer at me.
Eight Lives (Match Made In Hell Book 1) Page 9