Bled & Breakfast

by Michelle Rowen

  She pressed her lips together and looked down at the floor.

  I was in front of her in an instant, grabbing hold of her shirt, and tried to ignore the danger presented by pushing her too far. “Where is he?”

  She was an excellent actress, because an edge of fear crossed her gaze. An alpha witch wouldn’t be afraid of some panicky fledgling vampire she could squash like a bug.

  “I tried to break the doggy spell so he could follow you when Raina . . .” She swallowed hard. “Thierry demanded that I do it, even if it meant that Owen might be able to escape. I tried, but I couldn’t do it. He wasn’t able to leave. He got so upset that he lost his hold on the mortal world. I haven’t seen him since. But—um, I’m sure he’s fine. Try to calm down.”

  Seeing me knocked out and kidnapped while he could do nothing to save me must have exploded a few of his brain cells. The anger mixed with helplessness worked to flick the switch that sent him away.

  “I can’t calm down, Heather. Malik devours the energy of other ghosts. And if he learns that Thierry’s trapped here, all delicious and devourable . . .” I couldn’t finish my sentence.

  Her eyes bugged. “I—I don’t know why I couldn’t break the spell. I cast it, so I should have been able to break it. It would have been my fault if Raina had killed you. Oh, Sarah, I’m sorry. I can’t tell you how much.”

  “My goodness, you look like you were trampled by a herd of elephants!” Rose gave me an alarmed look as she entered the room. She held a cup of tea, which she brought to Heather.

  “Just one, but she’s not a problem any more. I’m okay now.” Other than the fact that I was dealing with Rose’s granddaughter’s lies about her level of witchcraftitude to her and everyone else. But what was Heather’s goal? What was her scheme? Was she connected to Malik? To Owen’s murder? How did it all fit together?

  “Besides, if this Malik fellow is as dangerous as you say, Sarah,” Rose continued, “then Thierry is better off not here.”

  She was right. While I desperately wanted to see him, to know he was okay, I’d rather he be somewhere safe right now. I sent a look toward the staircase. “How’s Owen doing? Still using Thierry’s body as a Holiday Inn?”

  Rose’s expression darkened. “He’s not doing so well, I’m afraid.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s weakening. Poor thing. I hope he recovers.”

  Before I could ask any more questions, Todd burst through the front door, kilt swishing around his legs. Heather and Rose regarded him with surprise.

  “Todd?” Heather gasped. “What on earth are you doing here?”

  “Hi, Heather,” Todd said, crossing his arms over his bare chest as if he’d just remembered he wore only a kilt and literally nothing else. “How’s it going?”

  “How’s it going?” Heather put down the grimoire. “I don’t see you for two months, I figure you’ve left town completely without saying a word to me and worry the hell out of me, and you’re suddenly here asking how’s it going?”

  “You broke up with me,” he reminded her.

  “Yeah, I did, but . . .”

  “You were worried about me?” He looked pleased about this. “Really?”

  “I—um . . .” She seemed to grapple for her words as a blush colored her cheeks. “Where have you been?”

  “Good question. And not one that’s easy to answer.” Todd swallowed hard and glanced at me. “Um, Sarah? Some help?”

  I knew this was a delicate situation. Todd had stayed in toad form for two months all to keep watch over the girl he loved. It was sweet . . . in a seriously twisted way. This needed to be handled extremely delicately.

  Too bad I wasn’t feeling delicate. “Good news: Todd is madly in love with you and wants desperately for you to be safe and protected always. Bad news: He’s a shape-shifter who’s been playing the part of Hoppy the toad for two months.”

  “What?” Heather’s mouth fell open as she stared at the half-naked kilted man standing in her front foyer.

  “Oh crap,” Todd breathed.

  “Work this out between you two, okay? I have to go rip Owen’s spirit out of my husband’s body.” I started for the stairs, past the mirror that didn’t show my reflection.

  Rose glanced out the front window. “There seems to be not one but two angry witches now standing on our front lawn.”

  I froze and glanced out the front door’s side window. Raina stood at the edge of the magical warding. Next to her was her loyal sidekick, Casey.

  I’d deal with them in a minute.

  I took the stairs two at a time and hurried into Owen’s room. My breath caught as I saw Thierry’s body, still handcuffed to the bed. Rose was right; he didn’t look so well. His handsome face was pale, his dark hair slicked back from his face.

  I sat down next to him, concern gnawing at my gut. “Owen, are you still in there?”

  He blinked a few times, and then he opened his eyes. My heart wrenched to see the familiar stormy gray eyes I loved so much, even though the personality behind them wasn’t the same. Not nearly the same.

  “Hey, Sarah,” he said weakly. “Heard Raina got hold of you. Glad to see you’re . . . well, you’re incredibly bloody right now. Oh God, the thirst. The thirst is back! This sucks so bad!”

  I got up from the bed and put some distance between us. “Sorry.”

  He groaned. “Finished your blood—Rose gave the rest to me to keep my strength up. You’re going to have to restock.”

  “Did it help?”

  “Not really.” He met my gaze. “I don’t know how Thierry deals with this. He’s a lot stronger than me; that’s for sure.”

  “Is that why you look so sick right now? The thirst is draining your energy?”

  He swallowed hard. “I don’t know. I guess. It was way worse an hour ago, but it’s getting better, I think. I’m recovering.”

  I remembered what Raina had said about the spirit transference spell and hissed out a breath. “I think I know what happened to put you in that body in the first place. I need to get you out of here. Something crazy’s going on, and I don’t think we’ve seen the end of it yet.”

  Rose was at the doorway. “Do you think that’s a good idea? Moving him? I think he should stay right where he is.”

  “I don’t think we have a choice anymore.” Not if my guess that Heather might be involved with Malik in some way and that this spirit transference spell was meant for him, not Owen, was right.

  Malik wanted Raina out of his way tonight. Something was going to happen and he didn’t want a powerful witch like her close by.

  Owen looked fondly at the old woman. “Rose . . . you’ve been so good to me, better than I deserve, staying by my side all this time. I think Heather hates me. Two out of three. It ain’t bad.”

  I turned to Rose. “What do you think’s wrong with him?”

  Her expression was tense. “I think he’s not strong enough to keep his hold on the body, but something’s trapped him there.”

  Something. Or someone.

  I moved past Rose into the hallway, to look over the railing to the first floor. Heather stood by the bay window, the grimoire clutched to her chest, staring out at Raina and Casey on the front lawn.

  Waiting. Watching.

  I turned to face Rose and lowered my voice to a whisper. “Did you know that Heather’s an alpha witch?”

  Rose gasped softly. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I know it’s hard to believe, but I think she has something to do with what’s happened to Thierry. To Owen.”

  “Impossible,” Owen said, shaking his head. “She can barely do any magic at all. What about the nosebleeds? You saw that yourself.”

  I did. And I didn’t have an explanation for it. Not yet, anyway.

  Rose looked at me, her eyes wide. “Why do you say this about Heather?”

  “Raina told me.”

  “And you believed her?”

  I blew out a breath. “I’m having trouble figu
ring out who to believe, to tell you the truth. I don’t trust anyone at this point.”

  “Smart vampire,” said a low voice by the door.

  My gaze shot to the open doorway, where Malik now stood watching us, leaning against the doorframe casually, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

  Rose inhaled sharply at the sight of him.

  I put a hand on her arm so she wouldn’t be afraid. “It’s okay. He’s harmless. To the living, anyway. What do you want, Malik? To lie to me some more?”

  I hated being manipulated, and he’d done a bang-up job. Now, with my newfound clarity when it came to Jonathan Malik, witch hunter, I saw that nothing about him had changed in three hundred-plus years. Not even his fashion choices. He wore the exact same clothes as a ghost that he’d died in.

  Malik simply regarded me coolly. “I’m so very glad that you’re here tonight to be a part of this.”

  “A part of what?”

  His smile before he turned away from us sent new shivers coursing through me. I ran after him into the hallway. Malik now stood by the railing, overlooking the main floor. Heather had left her station at the window to stare up at him in shock.

  “What’s going on?” she managed. “Who are you?”

  As if she didn’t know.

  I approached him cautiously. “Talk to me, Malik. What’s your plan? Did you have anything to do with this? With Owen? Have you hurt Thierry?”

  He glanced at me. “Those are several questions. Which would you like answered first?”

  “Thierry. Where is he?”

  “Your husband.” He cocked his head. “Yes, he’s like me right now, isn’t he?”

  “He’s nothing like you. He’s capable of change, of redemption. You’re not.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Let me guess. You’ve been talking to Raina again, have you? Don’t trust that woman, Sarah. She’d kill you as soon as look at you.”

  “Maybe I don’t trust either of you. What are you doing, Malik? What’s the game plan?”

  “Can’t you figure it out?”

  I already had. Partially, anyway. I spoke in no more than a whisper: “The spirit transference spell.”

  “Yes.” The word was a hiss.

  My throat was tight, almost too tight to form words. “Thierry’s body. It was supposed to be for you, not Owen. A witch is helping you and you think it’s going to happen tonight.”

  “More than think, vampire. I know.”

  He drew closer so that sinister smile was way too close for comfort. I swatted at him, meeting only cold air in the process. He looked down at himself as his misty body swirled and re-formed.

  “Nice try. Now it’s my turn.”

  He backhanded me. My head whipped to the side, my face stinging from the hit. I clasped my hand to my cheek and stared at him with shock.

  “How did you do that?” I gasped.

  “Magic.”

  He came toward me and grabbed hold of my shirt, shoving me against the wall so hard that I shrieked. A framed embroidery sampler was knocked off the wall and crashed to the ground.

  I tried to fight back, but it didn’t work. For some reason, he could grab hold of me, hurt me, but I couldn’t do the same.

  “Not fair,” I gritted out.

  “Life’s not fair. But I’ll tell you what life can be: very painful.”

  Suddenly, an arm came around his throat and the ghost was wrenched back from me. He spun around to face Thierry—Thierry!—who’d appeared in the hallway.

  Thierry grabbed hold of Malik’s shirt and launched him to the side, where he hit the wall—and disappeared. Thierry searched for a sign of him, even looking in the empty room, but the ghost was gone.

  Thierry’s furious gaze snapped to mine and shifted immediately to one of relief. “You’re all right. I was so—” His attention fell to my torn, bloody shirt. “Sarah, what happened to you?”

  I couldn’t talk. I was too happy to see him. I reached out toward him, going so far as to touch his face. Or try to, anyway. My hand didn’t make contact.

  “Sarah,” he growled. “Tell me why you’re covered in blood or I’m going to freak out.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “Freak out? You’re going to freak out? That’s something I’d say.”

  “Maybe so. But trust me, I’ve never been closer to it in my life.”

  I looked down at my train wreck of an outfit, wishing I had enough time to have a shower and change clothes. I couldn’t tell him exactly what had happened with Miranda, with Raina, not now. It would only be a distraction. “I . . . got hurt. But I’m better now. Don’t worry.”

  My words didn’t do much to ease the torment in his eyes.

  “When that witch took you and I couldn’t stop her . . .” His brows drew tightly together. “I thought I’d go insane. I thought I’d lost you.”

  My heart twisted into tight, painful knots. “I’m back. I’m okay. And we can still fix this.” I had to explain what I could quickly. “There’s so much I need to tell you. The witch hunter . . .” My breath cut short. “Thierry, watch out! He’s right behind you!”

  The ghost in question grabbed hold of Thierry and yanked him away from me. Thierry staggered down the hall before he regained his balance.

  “Stay away from him!” I yelled. “Thierry—he can devour the energy of other spirits. It makes him stronger. Be careful!”

  Malik launched himself at Thierry, and they fell through the railing. When they hit the ground floor, both bodies turned into gray smoke, which swirled and then disappeared completely from view.

  Rose stood by the doorway to Owen’s room, her face etched with worry. “This is bad, isn’t it?”

  I shot her a look. “Well, you guys did name this place the Booberry Inn. Looks like it’s finally living up to its potential.” I searched my mind, hoping that a fantastic plan to fix everything would form effortlessly. Sadly, it didn’t. “Can you do anything to stop this, Rose? A spell? Anything that could help us?”

  Her forehead wrinkled deeper. “No, I can’t. I’m sorry, dear. And Heather, oh my Heather . . .” She pressed her hand to her mouth. “If she has power like you say, then it’s been hidden from the world all this time.”

  “So you can’t help.”

  She shook her head and cast her gaze back toward Owen. “I wish I knew who could.”

  “Luckily, I do,” I said.

  Her eyes widened. “Who?”

  “Raina Wilkins.” I turned and raced downstairs, scanning the floor for any sign of Thierry or Malik, but there was nothing.

  I moved directly toward Heather, not pausing to consider how best to approach a powerful witch who tried to hide her powers. “Break the spell keeping Raina outside. I need her in here.”

  She shook her head, her face going very pale. “We stole her grimoire. She hates me.”

  “Do it anyway. Please.” I was certain she’d refuse to even try. That would be the last piece of proof I needed to convince me she was a deceptive, lying witch and had been all this time. But if she did help get Raina in here . . . Well, I didn’t know what that would mean. But it would be a good start.

  Todd sat on the couch quietly, his hands clasped together. “Heather will help you. I know she will.”

  Heather groaned. “I thought I told you to leave.”

  “I’m not letting you face all of this without protection.”

  She hissed out a breath. “That’s what this was to you? You were protecting me as a stupid toad? Now you want me to forgive you after you lied to me for two months?”

  He got to his feet and took a step toward her while she watched him warily. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. As long as you’re okay, I’m happy. I didn’t trust Owen, Heather. I didn’t trust him from the moment you met him, and—yeah, I made a dumb choice because I was stupid and jealous and my feelings were hurt when you dumped me. But I don’t regret a single day we spent together before or after.”

  She let out a harsh, annoyed cry from the back
of her throat and shot him a look so withering I was certain he’d turn into a toad again. Permanently.

  “She’ll help,” Todd said to me, although his gaze didn’t leave Heather. “She’ll break the spell because she knows it’s the right thing to do.”

  She really shouldn’t kick Todd out. He was currently the only unwavering member of her fan club. I just hoped he wasn’t setting himself up for disappointment . . . or worse.

  Finally, after another anxious moment, Heather closed the grimoire and placed it on the coffee table.

  She sent an unfriendly glare in my direction. “Fine. But if that witch kills everybody, it’s your fault.”

  I nodded. “Noted.”

  Heather grabbed her grandmother’s grimoire from a side table and moved to the front door, opening it. Raina and Casey stood at the boundary of the protection ward.

  “Well?” Raina said impatiently.

  “Sarah wants me to let you in my house. For me to break this spell.”

  “And are you going to?”

  There was a pause. “I don’t know yet.”

  “He’s here, Raina,” I said tensely.

  The witch’s expression tightened. She knew exactly who I meant. “Let me in, Heather. I can help. I have unfinished business with that ghost.”

  Heather let out a shaky breath. “Fine. This is a mess, and all of it seems to be my fault. If somebody—anybody—can help fix it, even you, then I can’t just turn my back on it.” She flipped forward through the pages. “I renew the warding every week as magic practice. This should do it.”

  She spoke the words of the spell under her breath. After a moment, she grimaced when her nose started to bleed. She wiped it away as if she was used to that side effect. I looked at her with concern. Owen was absolutely right; that was not a normal reaction for an alpha witch.

  Raina approached cautiously, eyeing the empty air before her as if she expected it to slap her in the face. It didn’t. I watched her tensely as she drew closer and closer, hoping I hadn’t just made a horrible mistake. I wasn’t in Vegas anymore, but every choice I made lately seemed to be yet another roll of the dice.

  Finally, she stepped fully into the inn and glanced around. “How quaint.”