Bloodspell (13 page)

When he'd seen her crying the last time, something in him had been desperate to comfort her and for a time, like her, he'd actually thought they could be friends. After she'd left, he'd run twenty miles just to get her out of his head, and even then she'd lingered, driving him to hunt with a ruthless violence he'd long since forgotten. This time, he knew with certainty that giving into his impulsive desire to be around her had been a mistake ... a terrible, irreversible,
stupid
mistake.

VICTORIA WAS LOOKING forward to getting away, if only for a few days, over Columbus Day weekend with Holly in Millinocket. After the last episode with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Idiot, she'd busied herself with classes and hours at the Black Dog, even taking on extra weekly shifts just so she wouldn't have to think. She'd caught up with Charla and Angie a few times, but for the most part she had just stayed on her own after classes.

Charla had jokingly told her that "hiding" was the fifth stage of lovesickness, and had vowed to find out Victoria's mystery crush. The threat of that alone had made Victoria hide even more to the point that she grew sick of her own company. So when Holly called to check in, Victoria had jumped at the chance to take some time and just get away from the source of all her stress.

She put Leto in his carrier and drove over to campus to return a book before she left. On her way back to her car, she noticed Angie sitting off to one side leaning on the stone balustrade of the library steps, chewing an apple and looking at her. Angie hadn't actually gotten any friendlier over the last few weeks, but at least now she deigned to converse with her—there was some sort of understanding that they were both friends of Charla's and although that didn't mean that
they
had to be friends, they could still be somewhat civil to each other.

"Hey," Angie said. "Have you seen Charla?" Victoria almost laughed. Everything had to be related back to Charla, like they couldn't have a normal conversation without it tying back to her in some ridiculous inane way.

"No, I haven't. Not since Wednesday." Victoria was trying to figure out how to leave without being rude, and then noticed the book that Angie had face down on the step next to her. "I didn't realize that you were interested in Wicca," she said before she could help herself.

Angie's smile was strained, more like a grimace. "I'm not," she said. She chewed a nail while still looking up at Victoria, conflicting emotions playing across her dour face. "Are you?" Victoria's eyes snapped to hers, shaken by her meaningful tone. Angie's face was calm but she looked almost smug. "I can always tell, you know. It's my gift."

"Tell what?" Victoria tried to keep her face expressionless, but her heart felt like it was lodged in her throat. Surely Angie couldn't possibly know what she was.

Angie rolled her dark eyes. "That you're a witch." She drawled the last word, rolling it insolently on her tongue. Victoria stared at her expressionlessly, waiting for her to continue. Angie didn't disappoint. "I'm not one, if that's what you're wondering. I can just see it in others."

"But how can you—"

"Colors." Angie cut her off, anticipating the question, and not even acknowledging that Victoria hadn't denied the statement. In Angie's world, what she saw was absolute. "I see colors in the air around you, an aura I guess. Everyone has one, something like a unique signature. Like I said, it's my gift, although not something I'd ever ask for."

"Why are you telling me this, Angie?"

Victoria was curious. It wasn't as if they had spoken more than two words to each other on any given day, and now they were having a bizarre supernatural conversation that had come out of nowhere. The amulet began to heat up, smoldering under the light sweater she was wearing. She shifted uncomfortably.

"Well, I thought you should know," said Angie, "that I know, I mean. After all, I'm sure it's not something you want other people to know about."

"Wait a second! I never said—"

Angie interrupted Victoria before she could finish.

"Like I said, you don't have to. I know what I see." Angie's voice was authoritative and calm. Victoria sat heavily on the step and Angie continued to chew her nails, her eyes dark and fathomless. "Don't worry, I haven't told Charla."

After a while, Victoria asked quietly, "How do you know what the colors mean?" It was the first time that she had ever seen some kind of life come over Angie. Her eyes lit up and her face became animated. She looked like a different person, and Victoria was stunned at the transformation. Angie's tone remained guarded, but her whole manner was different.

"I don't know exactly, but, well, normal people look the same. Their colors are a little different but basically have the same patterns." She smiled a little proudly. "I can even tell what kind of people they are by the color differences. Yours on the other hand has a lot of shimmery reds and purples in it, with wavy black lines. The pattern is very distinct, luminous. I taught myself how to figure out what the colors mean. I'm almost never wrong."

"Does Gabe—"

"Gabriel's ... not like me," Angie said quickly. She seemed to be choosing her words carefully. "Don't worry." Victoria relaxed a little but she was still dazed by the conversation they were having. She felt vulnerable and uncomfortable that Angie of all people knew what she was, or at least claimed to know what she was.

"So do you see in neon all the time?" she asked, desperate to sound nonchalant. Angie actually laughed, a full-throated chuckle that made her normally severe face seem even pretty.

"No, only when I want to, like I'm doing with you now," she replied. "I have to focus."

Just that moment, out of the corner of her eye, Victoria was distracted by a tall lanky figure walking across the quad, and her heart raced uncontrollably. It was ridiculous the effect he had on her still! She tried to squish herself back into the cold stone of the staircase as if she wanted to make herself as invisible as possible, and noticed Angie's quizzical expression.

"What's with you? Your colors just went all fiery red and blotchy!" Angie unfocused her eyes and peered at Victoria's face. "Your face is super red, too." Then she looked around and noticed the cause of Victoria's reaction. "Oh," she said. Victoria stared at Angie helplessly and saw comprehension dawn, along with an imperceptible hardening of her eyes.

"Him," she said in distaste. "I really don't know what Charla sees in him either. He's colorless." She gathered up her book, apple core, and satchel and stood up. "I have to get to class. If you see Charla, tell her I was looking for her."

There it was again, the unfailing tieback to Charla. It made it seem as if their entire conversation had never even happened. Victoria nodded tightly, her throat dry. She was trying to force herself to not look at Christian. But unable to help herself, her eyes turned to him. Sensing her gaze, their eyes connected in an infinite split-second, but then he looked away and kept walking. Victoria felt like he had punched her in the stomach. She almost didn't hear the quiet voice beside her say, "I told you he was empty." She didn't even notice when Angie walked away.

Victoria didn't know how long she stayed on the steps, her eyes burning from the sting of unshed tears. It felt like she was crying about everything lately! After days of not even seeing him at rehearsal, she didn't know what she had expected, but it certainly wasn't him looking coldly through her as if she didn't exist. She should have known better, and trusted her instincts where he was concerned!

She ran to her car, stopped to get gas, and started on the three-hour trip, turning up the music as loud as she could stand and letting it drown out her pathetic thoughts. Leto mewed unhappily in his carrier from the chaos but she ignored his complaints, trying to think about anything but
him.

She focused on the conversation she'd had with Angie and her uncanny ability to see people's "colors." When Angie had started talking about the colors, she had been genuinely animated and had looked
happy
! Still, Victoria was worried. They weren't really friends, and it wasn't like they were going to be now that Angie knew what she knew. Perhaps that was what the amulet sensed when it had grown hot, or maybe the heat had been a manifestation of her own fear. Either way, she knew she would have to be more careful around her.

Despite her efforts, her thoughts inevitably wound their way back to Christian. Victoria wondered what Angie had meant when she had said that he was "colorless." Was that a metaphor of some sort indicating that he was boring, or worse, incapable of being a nice human being? It had sounded like that, especially when she had said that he was empty.

Either way, despite his recent coldness, colorless would have been the last word that Victoria would have used to describe him. No matter what she did or how hard she tried to push him from her mind, she couldn't stop thinking about him. She wanted to hate him, to not think about the feel of his lips on hers or his gentleness when she'd cried about her parents or his inimitable grace with the violin. After two weeks, she thought her feelings would have diminished, but they had only gotten stronger. She needed to banish Christian Devereux from her head! He had obviously banished her from his.

Victoria pulled into Holly's driveway, and immediately felt better, the weight of everything from the past few weeks falling off her shoulders. Holly raced from the house and embraced her. Their reunion was delirious and they talked for hours. Holly filled Victoria in on all the local gossip. Victoria told Holly about Christian, except for certain pertinent details, and had a good cry, getting it out of her system. A dose of Holly was exactly what she'd needed.

The time went by quickly, and after just a couple days, Victoria was well rested. She'd taken long walks, enjoying the peace and quiet, and spent time exploring her abilities in more detail. After her unexpected run-in with Angie, Victoria realized that they only way she could protect herself from harm would be to learn about her gifts and be prepared to
use
them.

Leto was patient, teaching her simple spells and the words that were used to give the spells form and dimension. She discovered that as a familiar, he could not perform magic on his own, but he was a veritable treasure trove of magical lore. Under his tutelage, she learned quickly.

Try this one,
he told her.
Muto capillus. It's a glamour.

"Muto capillus," she said, and watched as her hair shimmered into a pale blonde. "That's amazing! How do I go back to normal?"

Recurro capillus.

Victoria parroted his words and her hair reassumed its natural color. She frowned thoughtfully.

"But why do I need the words, Leto? I've performed magic without them. If I think hard enough I can do a glamour without any words." She stared at him intently and watched as his silver-colored fur metamorphosed into black and white polka dots. "See?"

You're not like most witches,
Victoria.
Most others have to use words to shape the magic or it won't respond.
Even though your own magic is not defined by words,
they can still help to increase the potency of your spells.

"That's good to know."

Wonderful.
Now change me back.

The magic came easily to Victoria, and it made her feel better than she had in weeks. It felt good knowing that she was learning to control the strange and sometimes overwhelming power inside of her. She couldn't change who she was, but if she learned enough, maybe one day, she'd be able to control the demands of the blood and not end up like her ancestor, Brigid. Despite her fear, that had been the tipping point—Victoria vowed that she would
never
become a slave to the blood.

The amulet, too, felt as if it were harmonized to her every feeling, like a mood ring she'd worn when she was younger. She was fascinated by its unerring ability to warn against danger, and as much as she tried to outwit it, she found that it always flared hot whenever she endangered herself. Each time she mastered a new spell, the amulet warmed with approval.

It was heady and frightening at the same time. She became adept at moving things with a simple command, "effero," and bending others to her will, which Leto definitely did not like, especially when she made him walk into the ice-cold spring in the back yard. He retaliated with a vicious swipe of his paw on her leg, which healed on its own at an unspoken command, "curo," from her mind.

Shall we try teleporting
?
Leto asked her one afternoon while Holly was out grocery shopping.

"Didn't you say it was really difficult? As in things-can-go-terribly-wrong difficult?" Victoria said, frowning.

It's an important spell.
I'd rather you get hurt now than later.

She backed away warily. "Hurt? I don't—"

Leto hissed in her direction.
See that tree over there near the spring? Clear your mind and focus on a spot near it. Say
"
transeo
"
when you are ready.
The destination
must
be clear.