Bled & Breakfast

by Michelle Rowen

  “I’ll fix this, Raina,” I called out to her. “Just give me some time, okay?”

  Even from a distance, I could see her blue eyes turn witch red. “I want my property back. Now.”

  “Whatever do you mean?” Heather squeaked.

  I eyed her. She was an even worse liar than I was.

  “You know what I’m talking about. A book? From my attic? It’s missing. And my front door is broken.”

  I wanted to take over for Heather, since the bleak, scared expression on her face automatically made me want to protect her. Miranda was wrong about her. She might have stolen a boyfriend in the distant past, but the girl was harmless.

  “I asked for your help, Raina,” I said firmly. “But you said no. Then you worked some mojo on me to get me out of your hair.”

  “Return the book.”

  “I fully plan to. But I can’t—not yet. I’m not done with it. I assure you, as soon as I am, it’ll be returned to you undamaged. My word is good—I promise. And I’ll also pay for the door. It was my fault. Heather had nothing to do with that. So hate me, not her.”

  I closed the door to block out her vicious glare. I’d just made an enemy of a witch of uncertain power. That never turned out very well.

  The doorbell rang again.

  I looked at the door, feeling queasy now. Then I shot a glance at Thierry, standing a few feet away, who’d witnessed the entire exchange. “How does she ring the doorbell if she can’t approach the house?”

  His expression darkened. “Magic.”

  “That’s not very reassuring.”

  “You’re right. It’s not.”

  I pushed the door open a crack and glanced outside again. Raina still stood at a safe distance, but her cold smile had returned.

  “I’ve taken out a little insurance that I get my book back.” She pulled something out of her handbag. “I believe this is important to Heather. Am I right?”

  I peered closer. “What is that? A rock?”

  “Hoppy!” Heather exclaimed. “She has Hoppy!”

  “Oh no!” Rose gasped from the living room, her hand over her heart. “I left him in the backyard when he discovered a tasty flower. Hoppy hopped away!”

  “Most want a cat as a familiar”—Raina looked down at the animal—“but you have a frog.”

  “Toad,” I corrected uneasily. She was combatting our thievery with kidnapping. Heather loved that little creature, so this was low, even for a witch.

  “Whatever it is, I’ll be holding on to it for now. I do have a perfect recipe if I hear nothing from you very soon. A vegetarian lasagna, but I’ll make an exception this time for one of the layers.” Her smile widened. “Have a nice day.”

  I had my hand on Heather’s arm, and the girl had started to tremble.

  “Hey, Raina,” I called after her, “did you know a witch hunter’s ghost is haunting your house? Well, he is. Sweet dreams.”

  Her shoulders tensed, but she didn’t turn back around.

  It was petty, but I couldn’t help it.

  By the time I closed the door, Heather had grabbed the grimoire from the living room table and had returned to try to push the door open again.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, alarmed.

  “I need to give her this. It’s no use to us, and I can’t let Hoppy become an Italian casserole. She’ll do it, you know! I don’t doubt it!”

  I grabbed her arm. “She won’t do that. Toad lasagna would be really gross. It was just a random threat because she’s mad. And yeah, we’re evil, devious creatures of darkness for taking that spell book from her, but we need it.”

  Thierry caught my eye. He’d remained silent while we had our witchy standoff. “Sarah, there’s nothing in there to help us. What difference does it make now?”

  I shook my head. “Wrong. It does have something that can help us.”

  He frowned. “What?”

  “The time travel spell.”

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  I’d been thinking about this ever since Heather told me what it was. Thierry was right—there was nothing in that grimoire that could help us with his possession problem. However, that wasn’t our only trouble. I wanted to deal with our mounting issues with the Ring and get it over with. Then we could focus better on the problems here in Salem.

  “This is an opportunity,” I said firmly. “One I can’t just ignore.”

  “What are you talking about, Sarah?”

  I took a deep breath. “I want to go back to the night you disappeared and find out what really happened.”

  Chapter 10

  Sometimes it was hard for me to remember that I’d had serious trouble reading Thierry’s shifting moods when I first met him—ever since that November night when I’d first been bitten by a vampiric blind date. That jerk was long gone (actually, he was dead, courtesy of vampire hunters). But the other vampire I’d met that night—the one that tolerated my endless questions and my tendency to get myself neck deep in trouble; the one who tried to push me away until he realized it was a losing battle and that I wasn’t going anywhere—was giving me a look that could only be described as incredulous.

  I recognized that look. I got it from him a lot.

  Thierry shook his head. “Sarah, this is not a good idea. Actually ‘not a good idea’ is a vast understatement.”

  “Hear me out.” I moved over to where Heather clutched the grimoire to her chest. “This spell book can help us figure out what happened to you. The Ring wants to know and Markus gives me the distinct impression they’re not going to take “leave us alone” as an answer.”

  “You believe they mean to seal me away somewhere and torture me into revealing what I don’t remember?”

  He said it half jokingly, like I was overreacting, but I didn’t think it was very funny at all.

  “I wouldn’t put anything past them, actually.” When he opened his mouth to interject, I held up a hand. “And before you try to argue with me, I do realize they’d have a hard time locking up a spirit, but I am going with the optimistic presumption that we will find a way to successfully fix this and you’ll be back in your body very soon. Therefore, you and your body will be fair game for the elders to pick at like a science project.”

  He was so close to me that I could reach out and touch him if this was a normal situation. I had to fist my hands at my sides so I wouldn’t attempt it. Touching cold air and seeing him turn to smoke was too disturbing.

  “You’re trying to protect me from them,” he said, his gaze steady on mine.

  “Of course I am. And you’d do the same for me.” I didn’t wait for his reply, since I already knew the answer. He already had protected me from them by taking this job in the first place, even if he refused to admit it in so many words. “Heather, do you think you can do it? This time travel spell?”

  She exchanged a look with her grandmother. “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean, honey?” Rose said. “Of course you can do it. I just want you to be very careful not to hurt yourself. The nosebleeds, you know.”

  Heather chewed her bottom lip. “Well, it is grimoire magic. I’ve had some luck with that in the past. But it’s also blood magic, so you’re going to need a blood sample from the vampire whose lifeline you want to travel along.”

  “Sarah . . . ,” Thierry said.

  I spun to face him again. “Save your breath, Thierry. Or . . . or whatever you have in that ghost form. I need to try. If it can help you—”

  “If I ask you not to do this, will you respect my wishes?”

  I didn’t understand why he wanted to fight me on this when it was something that could get the Ring off his back. But then I realized his misgivings had very little to do with the Ring at all. “I know you don’t want to share your past with me in all of its unedited glory. But what exactly are you afraid I might see?”

  He gave me a look like I’d just slapped him. “I’m not afraid.”

  “Then let me do this for yo
u. Please. You told me before that you trusted me. Trust me enough to let me try.”

  He opened his mouth as if ready to continue to argue with me, but then closed it. “If this doesn’t work, you must promise to walk away and let me deal with the Ring.”

  “Thank you.” The tight feeling in my chest eased by a fraction. I studied his strained expression. “But if it does work I’ll be able to figure out where to find this amulet they want. We can get them off your back, once and—”

  But then Thierry disappeared right before my eyes as if someone had flicked a switch.

  I turned around in a circle. “Thierry? Are you still here?”

  “I think he’s gone again, honey,” Rose said. “He was getting all uppity and upset. That’ll do it.”

  Every time he disappeared I was afraid it would be the last time I’d ever see him.

  Just as I was about to run upstairs to check if Thierry had reappeared in our room, I heard a groan. It came from the couch.

  It came from Owen.

  Uh-oh.

  But then I had a thought—a wonderful thought, since Thierry had just disappeared a moment ago . . . “You don’t think Thierry was able to get back into his original—”

  “Sexy mama,” came a half-garbled outburst from the still-slumbering vampire. “She’s so sexy—look at that body. Oh yeah. Daddy thirsty now. Gimme a taste.”

  “Nope,” I said, my stomach souring. “Still Owen.”

  “Oh dear,” Rose said. “I think the Baxter spell’s wearing off. He’s waking up. I really wanted him to stay asleep and out of trouble until later.”

  Me too. The timing on his awakening was horrible. I needed him unconscious if I was going to get a blood sample. “Heather, can you renew it and keep him unconscious?”

  She gave me a squeamish look. “Afraid it only works once.”

  I stared at her. “It only works once? What kind of a stupid spell is that?”

  “Sorry. But, I mean, it was originally meant for a dog.”

  “If it’s any consolation,” Rose said, “the original location spell should be intact for quite some time. He’ll still be unable to leave the inn.”

  I watched the vampire with growing dread. “He’s going to tear this place apart.”

  Owen was the key to the time travel spell for one very important reason—he was currently residing in Thierry’s body. For this vampire blood magic spell to have a chance to work, I needed a sample of Thierry’s blood.

  But to have Owen awake and cranky about being magically trapped and sedated . . .

  This was not going to be fun.

  “Can you two give us a little privacy?” I asked.

  “What are you going to do?” Heather watched me warily.

  I gave her a look. “Whatever I have to.”

  She grimaced. “Grandma, let’s go into the kitchen for a few minutes.”

  Rose didn’t argue. Heather left the room with the grimoire clutched to her chest, her grandmother right behind her.

  Rose glanced over her shoulder at me. “Try not to break anything, dear.”

  “I’ll try my best.”

  They disappeared.

  It wasn’t more than a few seconds later when Owen slowly opened his eyes, then blinked rapidly. “Wha—what happened?” He squinted at me as if I was slowly coming into focus for him. “Oh, it’s you.”

  I forced a smile. From his unfriendly tone, I didn’t think he’d give me another opportunity to run away on a romantic adventure with him. Fine by me. “Good afternoon, sunshine.”

  My good cheer—however forced—was met with only a scowl. My worst fear right now was Owen going postal, destroying the house, and possibly hurting Rose and Heather in the process. After his rigorous escape attempt last night, I didn’t put anything past him.

  “I’m out of here.” He shakily got up from the couch, flicked the afghan to the floor, walked in a semistraight line toward the front door, and exited the house. I waited tensely, ready to run after him, but he got as far as he had last time before he hit the invisible barrier.

  “Problems?” I asked from the open doorway.

  He gave me a withering look over his shoulder. “You totally suck, you know that?”

  “Feeling’s mutual, body snatcher.”

  Owen brushed past me as he came back into the house; then he stomped up the stairs to the second floor. I followed right on his heels.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “Thierry’s cell phone,” he said. “I’m sure there’s somebody in his speed dial who can come and help him out when he’s being held prisoner by his crazed wife from hell.”

  He wasn’t going to be winning any Nobel Prizes for brainpower—or congeniality. Besides, the phone was downstairs by his jacket, where I’d left it after calling Thierry’s contact. “That’s your master plan to get out of here? To call for backup and pretend to be Thierry? Good luck with that.”

  “Why do you have to be so mean to me?” he asked, his expression pinched.

  “Just because I don’t want you stealing Thierry’s body and gallivanting all over the world with it while he takes a one-way trip to the spirit world? Yeah, so mean.” I blew out a breath and tried to stay calm. “Listen, Owen, I need a favor from you.”

  This made him pause before he started to laugh. “You need a favor from me.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “You’re just as crazy as you look. What is it?”

  I didn’t think I looked that crazy. I cast a glance toward the special mirror. Nope, totally sane, if a bit stressed, in my humble opinion. “I need some of your—well, Thierry’s—blood. And I need it right now.”

  He cocked his head. “Thirsty, Sarah?”

  “What? No, that’s not why. I need it for a spell. However, I can take it by force if you keep giving me a hard time.”

  This only made him laugh harder. “You think you can take my blood by force.”

  “I can try. But I’d really prefer if you cooperate.”

  I was trying for that optimism thing again. It would have to do until I thought of something better.

  “A spell using master vampire blood, huh?” He looked intrigued by this. “Sounds dangerous. That’s pretty hot.”

  It was something. “Glad you approve.”

  Owen crossed his arms over his stolen chest. “Here’s the deal. I give you some blood and you let me leave.”

  I glared at him. “Forget it. I’ll find another way.”

  I turned toward the door, but Owen was next to me in a heartbeat. He grabbed my wrist tight and spun me back around to face him.

  His expression was fierce. “You’re going to help me get out of here, Sarah. The witches like you. They’ll break this doggy spell if you ask nicely.”

  I gave him an icy look. “I strongly suggest you let go of me.”

  His gaze moved over my face and down my throat. “How about another deal? I’m willing to negotiate. One kiss of your own free will for a little blood.”

  I made a face. “Is that all you ever think about?”

  “I said kiss, not anything horizontal.” He grinned now. “Come on, these are Thierry’s lips, after all. It’s not like it would be cheating. Kiss me, Sarah, and don’t hold back.”

  “Owen, I’m seriously going to knee you in Thierry’s groin if you don’t let go of me in three seconds.”

  He laughed softly and moved closer so he could whisper in my ear. “You know what? You’re kind of—”

  But then he froze.

  “Owen?” He hadn’t let go of my wrist and he was still positioned to whisper to me, but he said nothing at all. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

  “So strange,” he said, his words now muffled. “It—it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. You smell so good.”

  I rolled my eyes. “If this is some kind of a cheesy pickup line, it’s not going to—”

  And then he sank his fangs into my throat.

  I shrieked and tried to get away from him, but
he held me firmly in place. This was not the way this scene was supposed to play out. I was the one who was supposed to get the blood sample, not him!

  He pulled away from me, his lips red with my blood. His eyes were black and glazed and filled with endless hunger—and also, confusion. “What’s happening to me? It’s horrible . . . this thirst. I can’t stop this.”

  All I could do was stare at him in shock before he dove back for a second helping.

  It never occurred to me that Owen would have to deal with Thierry’s drinking problem. Thierry didn’t drink blood at all, since even the smallest taste of it would push him over the edge of his control—similar to an alcoholic dealing with the aftermath of a shot of vodka, only way more deadly. Thierry had tried to fight this constant urge for centuries, and it was much worse than the regular thirst other vampires dealt with. His was true bloodlust.

  He’d fought it hard and well—and almost always abstained from drinking blood. At his age, he could go a long time without it. Like, a very long time.

  But Owen was brand-new to this body. And if he was now experiencing the same bloodlust Thierry did . . .

  Then I was in serious trouble. As far as I knew, being drained of every drop of blood could kill a vampire as surely as a wooden stake through the heart. And Owen seemed ready to satisfy his endless thirst right here and right now. With me.

  Before I could figure out how to stop this, something shattered and Owen jolted against me. He spun around angrily to see Rose standing behind him holding the remnants of a broken jar.

  “Ouch!” Owen touched the back of his head. He pulled his fingers away bloody and he frowned. “Wait a minute. Did that bottle contain . . . pickled garlic?”

  She nodded. “Yes, it most certainly did.”

  “Well, damn.” Owen fell to his knees, then collapsed all the way to the ground.

  Contrary to popular myth, garlic doesn’t repel vampires. Once in the bloodstream, it actually knocks us out cold.

  I held my hand to my throat and stared down at the unconscious vampire before turning my grateful gaze to Rose.

  “Thank you. I was doing my impression of a damsel in distress really well.”