Bloodspell (20 page)

She chatted to two other seniors for a while, but soon after Victoria started to feel ill, the noise and heat of the bar making her suddenly dizzy. She sat for a minute but a stinging headache had come out of nowhere. She felt disoriented. Even her amulet seemed hot but Victoria wasn't sure if it was the necklace or her body that was burning up. She told Gabriel she needed to go home. After declining his offer of a ride, she insisted that she preferred to walk.

The minute she left the bar, Victoria felt better. The night air was cold but refreshing against her hot skin as she started the two-mile walk to her apartment. The wind sliced across her cheeks, and she pulled her coat tighter around her neck.

It felt good, the icy coldness helping to clear the cobwebs from her head. It was a dark night but she wasn't too worried; street lamps and homes lit most of the way, and there was only one small area that crossed the five-mile loop, which didn't have any lights. She walked briskly before the chill could seep through her coat and settle in her bones. She briefly considered teleporting, and then decided against it—too public, even if the area was deserted.

She pressed on. Halfway through it, she was just starting to regret her decision to take on the subzero temperatures and the wind chill, when out of the corner of her eye, Victoria thought she saw a quick movement, and a chill that had nothing to do with the weather ran up her spine.

She walked faster, wrapping her arms around her body, glancing behind her once or twice but seeing nothing out of the ordinary. The hairs on the nape of her neck were at stiff attention, and suddenly she regretted not taking Gabriel up on his offer of a ride. Movement to her left caught her eye again and she froze, her body tense with coiled fear.

It was a man, a short thin man.

A menacing snarl curled from his throat. Before she could think, he sprung toward her with lethal precision. Victoria felt the blood roaring in her ears and summoned her energy, sledge-hammering it toward the man's body. He flew back twenty feet and crashed into the base of a maple tree but was on his feet in seconds snarling hideously.

Victoria's focus sharpened and the blood rushed in her veins, giving her strength and clearing her brain of everything but self-preservation. The amulet at her breast pulsed hot as her blood pushed her fear into a dizzying frenzy. Another quick movement on her right made her spin around, and in the darkness she could make out another shape, a feminine shape. As her eyes adjusted, she saw a beautiful woman with long, white-blond hair.

All Victoria could think was that somehow she
knew
that face, but the memory eluded her. The woman dropped into a crouch and feinted, ready to attack, and Victoria braced herself, feeling the magic responding to her needs, the energy amassing in her fingertips. The blast rocketed past the woman who spun with inhuman speed to avoid the blow. Victoria shifted to the left keeping the first attacker in sight and realizing that there was a second man, behind her. She didn't have time to hyperventilate. The power surged through her leaving her breathless—she was born for this.

They circled like three sharks that smelled blood in the water. One of the man-things leapt toward her. Words shot through her head and Victoria screamed them without even thinking about where they had come from.

"Ignis cremo!"

The curse's fiery arms destroyed the creature in midair. Its shrieks were hideous as it died, and Victoria's blood soared in response, exultant with its success. On her left, she could see the blond woman staring at her uneasily.

Victoria lifted her chin in cool challenge. The woman's answering stare was venomous, and as Victoria fought to grasp the elusive memory of
who
she was, she didn't notice the other man-thing springing toward her from the side. Razor-sharp, serrated fangs tore into the flesh of her right shoulder. Victoria screamed, but before she could react, the thing fell onto the ground and started convulsing in terrible agony and clawing at its face. She stared in horror as its mouth and face blistered off, the rest of it smoldering to slow ashes before her eyes.

Blood congealed into her sweater and coat, its tackiness coating her skin, pungent like corroded rust. Her shoulder stung as if there were powered glass underneath but she ignored it, her burning eyes scanning the area. With some relief, she realized that the woman had disappeared. Her vision clouded as her knees buckled. The earth was cold and wet, and her eyes grew heavy as she lay back on the grass at the side of the road, looking at the black sky and feeling the blood dancing in her veins. It was resonant with victory, but she felt drained. The pain in her shoulder faded to a dull throb as she felt herself slipping into unconsciousness.

Christian ...

VICTORIA WAS FLYING. There were tight bands around her arms and her thighs, holding her close. Dizzily, she turned her face and saw the familiar angular profile. He had come for her, just like she had known he would. Her throat stung from the effort of the words.

"Killed v ... v ... vampire ... oh God ... I killed it ... them ..."

Sleep, chérie.

And she did.

CHRISTIAN SHOUTED FOR Anton the minute he arrived at the house with Victoria limp in his arms. Although Anton's special poultice, made for an infected vampire bite, seemed to calm the weeping of the lesions, they still remained angry and raw. Even worse, Victoria was still unconscious.

When she'd called him, Christian had followed her call, the lushly wet scent of her blood like a beacon. Its siren song was nearly impossible to resist. The thought that a vampire had
bitten
her incensed him, and he fought to keep his rage under control as it simmered beneath the surface. He knew
exactly
who had sent it, and his wrath made him reckless. He picked up the phone and punched in a number. No answer.

I know you're there Lucian
!
he roared mentally.

They rarely communicated telepathically but the unique bond they shared had not diminished with time or immortality. They had always been able to finish each other's sentences as children, and that ability had evolved into something much more unique. Despite its usefulness, it reminded Lucian too much that they were brothers, a fact that he preferred to forget.

Christian's cell phone rang.

"What can I do for you, brother?" Lucian's voice was composed, arrogant.

"Explain."

"Explain what? That you were hiding a witch of immense power? That she killed two of Lena's men in the space of minutes? Or worse, that you thought I wouldn't find out?"

"You sent Lena?" Christian's voice was choked.

"Afraid, brother?"

"She is of no threat to you Lucian!" Christian could scarcely control his fury, he felt like he wanted to rip Lucian apart with his bare hands. He didn't even want to imagine what he would have done if they had been on the same continent. Lucian's response was quiet.

"You forget your duty, Christian," he said. "The Watchers have foreseen it. The prophecy—"

Christian interrupted him fiercely. "She is NOT the one you seek." But even as he said it, Christian doubted himself.
Could
she be? "No. The Watchers are not infallible. They are trained to detect paranormal threats against the vampire world, but still, their visions aren't set in stone. You know that better than anyone."

"So you admit that there's something, then? A threat?"

"If there is a threat, I'll deal with it. Don't ever send anyone here again," Christian said, "because
brother,
trust me you will not like the result."

"And what if she is the one?"

"Lucian, her power is raw but not extraordinary. She can't be the one from the prophecy. It's impossible." Christian could hear the silence on the other end of the phone as Lucian processed the information. After a while Lucian spoke, curiosity evident in his tone.

"So why do you care so much? Giving in to the temptation of a little forbidden snack?" Lucian's laugh was derisive.

"None of your damned business."

"That's forbidden too, in case you forgot. Not that I don't mind a little witch blood myself from time to time. We always crave the illicit, don't we? I just didn't think my straitlaced, uptight brother would indulge in such criminal inclinations."

"Think what you will, Lucian. Do not send any of your people here again, or I will return them to you in pieces myself. Food or otherwise, the witch is not your concern." Christian's words were final, indicating the subject was closed, and he disconnected the call.

The tension drained out of his body. If Lucian refused to leave Victoria alone, Christian didn't want to think of what he would do. A tendril of unease crawled up his neck—what
did
the Watchers know? What had they said to Lucian? And worse, what did
he
know?

Was Victoria in danger? Was she the one?

WHEN VICTORIA FINALLY awoke, it was to inky darkness, much like the very first night she had slept in Christian's house. She floundered weakly for the window switch and opened it a crack; no light, which meant nighttime. She closed her eyes and had to take a few minutes before she could focus properly, trying to remember the words Leto had taught her for the spell.

"Illustro," she rasped, illuminating the lamp in the far corner of the room. Her mouth felt like dry cotton and her eyes hurt as if they had grit in them. When she tried to sit up, the agony that stabbed through her back and neck was excruciating, and she gasped, falling back against the pillows. After a few minutes, she hauled herself up and inched her way into the bathroom.

She looked like hell. Her face was pasty with huge black circles under her eyes and a large purple bruise covered the side of her temple. A thick white bandage encased her shoulder, and she winced as she touched the edges of it. Splashing some cold water on her face, she finger-combed her hair and made her way downstairs where she found Christian sitting in the den, still and in repose, hands clasped against his chest. His lips moved soundlessly. Was he
praying
?

"Hi," she said, startling him.

"How are you feeling?" His voice was rough like sandpaper.

"Like I got hit by a truck." She smiled weakly and sat beside him, grimacing from the effort. "Thank you for coming for me," she said. "I don't know what—"

Christian put a finger against her lips and mindful of her injury, pulled her into a gentle embrace. He felt her familiar curves settle into his body and he swallowed painfully, tensing from the sheer proximity of her elegant,
so
elegant, throat.

Victoria felt his tension and propped herself up, noticing his very pale face and stormy dark slate-colored eyes. There was no light in them, just a latent hunger blackening their edges. His arms were rigid and she could see the muscles bunched tightly beneath his white skin. He looked
hungry.

"Have you ...?" Christian shook his head, and she could see the effort it cost him. He wasn't even breathing.

"I couldn't leave, not while you ..."

He was very quiet and her eyes softened as she realized that he hadn't fed because he'd been afraid to leave her side.
But at what cost
? she wondered. He looked haggard, but it only heightened the perfect surreal beauty of his face. Victoria understood in that second why people could fall prey to vampires so easily—their beauty enticed and compelled,
especially
when they were hungry.

"I'll be okay," she told him. "I'll wait. Go." Victoria stood up and literally shoved him out the door. It was snowing again and she watched his lithe body disappear into the trees, their dark evergreen branches heavy with snow.

With Christian gone, Victoria returned to the chair he had vacated and pulled her mind into focus. Her body ached but her mind felt uncluttered. Even her magic felt more malleable,
different.
Something new had arisen within her, something intense and strong and frightening. It excited and terrified her at the same time.

Who are you,really?

The amulet pulsed as if it held the answer. Victoria held the stone. She knew that she had only survived because of its protective power and magical knowledge. She thought about the fire curse that had incinerated the creature, and her blood boiled in response, the amulet scorching her icy hands. She remembered what Brigid had written in the journal about the inhuman exchange between the blood's magic and sacrifice, and her face paled in horror. In that single moment, everything became crystal clear.

She had
killed
last night!

Victoria closed her eyes and whispered a summoning charm, the music box from her bedside table materializing in her lap. She removed the journal, and found the letter that Brigid had written to Marcus, rereading the lines she wanted, "the price of the blood had always been mine to set" and the piece about the diamond amulet, "this is everything that was best of me."

She set aside the journal and removed the amulet, her brow furrowed as she examined the diamond. One thing was clear: somehow, the amulet had protected her with its own magic of its own volition. Tentative, she pushed her consciousness into the stone, prisms of crimson light dazzling her, and found herself in a blood-red cavern. The air felt heavy as if she were swimming underwater. Drawing her mental hands forward, sifting through it, her fingers left a trail of silvery-blue phosphorescence in their wake, and she stopped fascinated. Magic!