Bloodspell (3 page)

A single word escaped her lips. "No!"

Obediently, time stopped.

Victoria swung around to the right to pluck the vase from midair milliseconds before it crashed to the floor, her breath harsh in the unnatural stillness. A blink, and the spell was broken. She replaced the vase with shaking fingers and took a deep, calming breath, her blood coursing wildly in her veins. Leto growled softly, his sudden stare insistent, unnerving. She shook her head.

"You imagined it," she said, pressing her hot palms to the cool surface of the countertop. "It's just adrenaline ... excess energy. Breathe, Tori."

She shook her head again, starting to feel that she would be better off returning to bed, when she heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. A few minutes later, Holly walked in, beaming as she saw Victoria and towing a bunch of shiny balloons behind her through the kitchen door.

"Happy Birthday, Tori! I've got one for each year!
Seventeen
of them!" she cried. "So, how's my birthday-girl?" Victoria couldn't help smiling.

"I'm not exactly sure. Still waking up, I think," she said, with a glance at her reddened hand.

A concerned look. "Did you manage to get any sleep at all?"

"Not much. The nightmares have been a lot worse lately. But I guess it's just the time of year," she said. "Not every girl has a birthday on the anniversary of her parents' death."

"I know, darling, it's hard. But they would be very proud of you, you know," Holly said, squeezing Victoria in a sympathetic hug before adding briskly, "so let's focus on the positive. How does it feel to be seventeen?"

Victoria smiled at Holly's intensity. Holly pretended to love birthdays, but Victoria knew deep down that Holly only did it so that the happiness of the celebration would eclipse the sadness of what had happened eight years ago. And her thoughtful ploy worked, year after year.

"It's strange, I do feel different. My body feels like it could run a marathon, like I've had six cups of coffee or something. I've had pins and needles all morning. Even Leto won't come near me."

"Sounds like birthday jitters to me," Holly said. "No wonder, seventeen, that's a
big
milestone."

"You said that last year when I was sixteen, remember? 'Sweet sixteen is a big milestone,'" she quoted in a chirpy falsetto.

"Well, it is, and they all are," Holly argued good-naturedly. "And I do not sound like that."

"You do when you get excited," Victoria said, pouring herself a second cup of coffee. "Seriously though, why is it even called sweet sixteen? It's so archaic. It's not even a true coming-of-age anymore. Don't you know eleven is the new sixteen?"

"Very funny," said Holly. "When I grew up, sweet sixteen was about celebrating girlhood into adulthood. I think the saying
sweet
sixteen comes from 'sweet sixteen and never been kissed.'"

"Don't look at me, I'd hardly know. I've never kissed anyone, unless you count Peter from church when I was thirteen. Gross. Anyway, I'm glad
sweet sixteen
is over. I can honestly say there was nothing sweet about it."

"Maybe this will be your sweet seventeen then," Holly said with a wink, and Victoria rolled her eyes. "Your grandmother always said that seventeen was a big deal too, you know, like a rite of passage."

Victoria turned and leveled a suspicious glance in Holly's direction. "Aunt Holly, you haven't gone and done anything crazy, have you?"

"Now, now, Tori, don't get that tone with me, young lady. A young woman deserves something special on her seventeenth birthday, doesn't she? I really think, no ... I
insist
that you should have something special! Happy Birthday, Tori!" Holly put two gaily-wrapped boxes in front of Victoria on the table. "Go on, open!"

"Aunt
Holly
! You do too much already!" Victoria said. "You spoil me."

"Don't deny an old lady her joys, darling."

"Old lady? Whatever!" Victoria laughed as she squeezed her thoughtful, infuriating, wonderful aunt in a bear-hug. "But this is the last time, okay. No more," she joked, before removing the wrapping paper carefully and opened the smaller of the two boxes. Inside, nestled on a bed of cotton gauze, was a delicate, golden key. She looked questioningly at Holly who indicated that she should now open the second, larger box.

"Oh no, Aunt Holly, you didn't!" Victoria gasped and pulled the shiny, thin laptop from its plastic wrapping. She held it gingerly in her hands. "It's too much, really it is!"

"Do you like it? Jim at the shop told me it was top of the line, and great for writing or drawing. I know you're always doodling in that notebook of yours, and well, the one I've got is practically extinct as you know." She laughed.

"I love it! It's perfect! You're perfect! I can't believe you got me a Mac! The graphics in these things are amazing! It's got like a super fast processor and stacks of RAM. And look how thin it is! It's so
pretty
!"

"I'm so happy that you're happy, Tori," Holly said. "I don't know about rams and sheep and whatnot, but I'm so glad you like it. Seeing that smile again was worth it. I was worried it wouldn't be the right one, you know how you young people are." She reached for a package beside her. "I still have one more thing for you."

Victoria touched the laptop's shiny surface reverently. "You've already done so much, Aunt Holly. Really."

"Well, this one is indirectly from your grandmother," Holly said, lifting a delicately carved wooden box from beneath several layers of yellowing tissue paper.

"My grandmother?" Victoria repeated, confused. Her grandmother had died when she was eight.

"This was her music box. That's what the golden key is for. Before she died, she told me that I was to pass it to you on your seventeenth birthday. She said it was important, that she meant for you to have it."

With infinite care, Victoria held the music box. It was a warm, worn, cherry-wood interlaid with rosewood, crisscrossed by delicate gold carvings in an intricate design. She squinted closely ... the design looked like some sort of crest. She ran her hands across the top of it and it warmed to her touch.

Feeling strangely expectant, she put the small gold key into the lock and turned the latch. As she opened the top, the faint smell of gardenias drifted up and a haunting melody hummed. It was
Moonlight Sonata
by Beethoven.

Victoria swallowed, her throat tight, and realized that Holly had left the room to give her some privacy. Inside the box was a collection of papers, some yellowed with age, and a small red velvet box. The top piece of paper was folded over and inscribed with her name. She opened it with surprise.

My darling Victoria,

How I wish I could have seen you grow up. You were so full of life and carried so much joy, my beautiful granddaughter. If this box has come to you in the manner I wished, you will be reading this on your seventeenth birthday. This is a special birthday for Warrick women. It marks both an end
and
a beginning, the end of what we know and the beginning of what we are to become. Don’t fear it. Embrace it. You are a Warrick.

All my love,

Your Loving Grandmother, Emmeline Warrick

Victoria read the letter again, savoring the memory of the voice behind the words, then shuffled through the rest of the papers. There were many more letters, some quite old, that appeared to have been written to other Warrick girls on their seventeenth birthdays, all with the same message. She realized that the letters must be some sort of coming of age ritual for the women in her family. They seemed to cling to her hands as if they were part of her, drawn to her mysteriously, and she liked the feeling they gave her. She also found a thin notebook that looked like a journal. She put it aside; she would read it later. The red velvet box beckoned.

She opened it carefully and, with a gasp, removed a delicate amulet on a thin chain. The amulet held a shimmering rose-tinted diamond suspended between the golden threads edging its perimeter in the same triangular design—
crest
?—the one engraved on the music box. It was breathtaking.

Victoria gently traced the outside of the delicate crest and winced as the sharp bottom edge almost sliced her finger—it was very sharp when held just so, although seemed to be quite safe when flat on her palm.
How strange.

"Aunt Holly, did you ever see my grandmother wear this amulet?" Holly walked back into the kitchen and examined the necklace.

"Many times. She told me that it was a family heirloom. Your grandmother was convinced that this amulet kept her out of trouble. She called it her lucky charm. And it did too! She always said she had the devil's own luck. You wouldn't believe her escapades and how many times she got away with murder!" She laughed at the memory and fastened the necklace to Victoria's slim neck. "There, it's lovely. Go have a look."

Victoria went to the bathroom mirror and peered at her reflection. Her dark, blue-black hair hung in the same tangled mass as always, but the necklace lent a warm glow to her face. The amulet lay on her chest like it belonged there, its weight heavy and profound. Leto, who had followed her into the bathroom, scratched his front paws against her knees and she bent to pick him up.

"What do you think, Leto? Beautiful, isn't it?"

Leto's green eyes met hers in the mirror. She suddenly felt breathless, unable to look away from the cat's bright gaze.

"Isn't it odd that our eyes are exactly the same color? I don't think I ever noticed," she heard herself say.

The amulet was so bright and so hot that she could feel it nearly burning her chest. Her blood raced beneath it, her breath coming in rapid, shallow pants. Leto's body trembled in her arms, his green eyes blazing.

Embrace it.

She almost dropped him as the words echoed unbidden in her head.

"Leto?" she said. She
was
going crazy. But Leto mewed softly, still holding her gaze. Victoria was so spellbound by the pull of the amulet that her mind felt drunk, her instincts leaden. She was burning hot just like in her nightmares, exploding from the inside out. Underneath the murkiness, she felt something awaken inside of her. Terrified, she grasped Leto so tightly that his claws dug into her forearms.

The more frightened she became, the more her blood seemed to be feasting on her fear. The amulet scorched her chest, and the light she'd felt not ten seconds before disappeared into a thick, suffocating darkness. Dark into light, light into dark. Victoria stared at the mirror.

The demon had her face.

Her nightmare had become reality. Everything suddenly felt as if it were spinning out of control, the floor beneath her feet tilted and bile coated the back of her tongue. Victoria flung Leto aside and ripped the amulet off her chest.

She didn't want it! She didn't want any of it! She thought about her grandmother who'd spent the last years of her life in some sort of psychiatric hospital because she'd been so weird, if not insane. Victoria was already an orphan and an outcast. And after what had happened at school, being anything like her grandmother was exactly what she didn't want or need.

Leto looked up at her and made a sound that was halfway between a hiss and a growl.

Victoria avoided the cat's penetrating gaze. She threw the amulet into the music box and slammed the lid.

"Everything all right, Tori?" asked Holly, coming back into the room and noticing Victoria's wild expression. "You're bleeding!"

Victoria stared blankly at the long, nearly black scratches on the backs of her hands. A strange rusty-sweet odor filled her nostrils. "Just Leto," she said, wiping the blood with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. "It's nothing."

"You're sure everything's okay?"

"I'm fine. I just need some fresh air." Victoria forced a smile to her face and kissed Holly's cheek. "Thank you for a wonderful birthday present, it's exactly what I wanted. I can't wait to set up my laptop."

"What about the necklace?" Holly asked, looking at the music box on the table.

"I don't want it. I'm sorry."

"What happened?" Holly said cautiously. "Was there something in the box?"

"No, nothing important," said Victoria. "I'll see you later, Aunt Holly."

"Do you want me to put it in your room?"

Victoria glanced at the box, and the heat surged in her chest. Her palms tingled painfully and she dug her nails into the soft flesh, looking away with effort.

"I don't care what you do with it. Really. Just give it away."

Leto's sharp hiss was cut off by the door slamming behind her. She stared down in surprise at her throbbing hands and the new streaks of fresh blood seeping from her scratches. They bled, hot and angry.

Something inside her smiled.

VICTORIA CHEWED HER bottom lip as she drove to the registration building. She didn't know why she was nervous but she was. She had enrolled at Windsor Academy, a private preparatory school about three and a half hours south of Millinocket, where she'd been accepted with a partial scholarship to finish her senior year of high school. Money-wise, it would be hard even with the financial aid, but she'd preferred to scrimp and save, rather than go back to St. Xavier's. The local high school had been an option but the gossip would only follow her there.