Bloodspell (46 page)

Victoria had closeted herself in Christian's house. She couldn't bear to be alone, especially at night when she was assaulted by horrific images of what had happened, and she'd only been able to get through finals with Christian's help. After the dramatic, life-changing events in New York, finishing high school seemed anticlimactic.

Angie's foster parents had let her return to campus despite their adamant wishes for her to remain with them in New York. Angie had told them that she'd called 911 when Gabriel and Charla had been hit while running across the street after a late-night party, but the paramedics had been unable to do anything to save either of them. The deception had been essential to protect not only Victoria's identity, but also those of the vampires. Christian had made a call that same night to recover the bodies from the underground room. It was amazing to see the power of The Council. It had been a tragic but necessary facade, and somehow the police report corroborated Angie's story.

Victoria sighed, curling up on the sofa while Christian lit a fire in the fireplace as the temperature had dipped a bit since earlier in the day. She didn't want to think about what Christian had done to make that happen. It seemed that the supernatural world had its fingers and connections everywhere ... more so than she'd ever imagined. She wondered if she would ever get used to being a part of that world—the world that existed in the shadows on the periphery of human reality. For better or for worse, she was a part of both now. She sighed.

"Are you all right?" Christian asked quietly, joining her. She nodded leaning against him. He inhaled the strawberry smell of her shampoo with the heady scent of
her
flickering beneath it. His longing for her, and her blood, had only gotten stronger. All he wanted to do was to bury his face in her neck and take and take until he couldn't take any more, even
knowing
that her blood would consume him, consequences be damned. He shifted uncomfortably.

"Have you talked to Holly?" he asked, resorting to conversation as a suitable distraction.

"Yes, earlier today. I don't know if I ever told you that my grandmother had confided to Holly about us, about me. She knew. But she wasn't prepared for Gabriel. None of us were." Victoria faltered, the sense of betrayal still keen. "She says Leto is doing much better too. I think the magical therapy I did might have actually worked, thanks again to the blood magic," she said. "I think it will take him a while to come to terms with you and me though. Overcoming centuries of hate will take time." She smiled wryly. "Did you talk to Lucian?"

"Briefly. He's as well as can be expected. The Houses are convening next month to elect the new member to replace Enhard." His eyes clouded.

"I'm so sorry, Christian," she said.

"It's okay. Time heals everything, and that's one thing I have plenty of." Victoria wished she could erase the sadness etched in his face. She smiled brightly.

"Speaking of Enhard, did you know that he could
fly
?"

Christian looked at her, knowing she was trying to make him to remember the good things, the happy things, about Enhard. "Yes. He was over eight hundred years old. At that age, vampires can fly or shape-shift. There are very few left as old as he was."

"He told me about Valerius and Brigid," Victoria said quietly. "He said Valerius was his mentor. He must have hated her so much when she killed Valerius—almost as much as he hated me."

"He didn't hate—"

Victoria interrupted him. "Not at the end when he helped me. It was only his love for you that made him trust me. But I know that he was afraid of me, of what I am." She hesitated. "He was afraid that I would kill you, too."

Christian marveled at her perspicacity. As strong as she was, he knew the possibility was there that the blood could eventually control her and it scared the hell out of him too. It was a heavy curse, Le Sang Noir, or as she called it the Cruentus Curse, which she had explained to Christian meant bloodthirsty in their old language. It was an apt name.
Bloodthirsty.

"Tell me what you're thinking," Victoria said.

"I was thinking about you, and about the blood," he said. He could feel her body tense but then immediately relax. "It would protect you at all costs, right?"

"Yes, probably," she said. "What are you worried about?"

"Me." Victoria sighed and looked up at his handsome somber face. "And ... you," he admitted.

"Christian, we've been through this before," she said. He quelled her words by placing his finger against her lips.

"I know that, but sometimes fear is healthy. It's what keeps us alert and not seduced by a false sense of security because of who we are,
especially
because of who we are." He smiled sadly. "I don't want to lose you, Victoria ..."

"You won't."

"Will you do me one favor?" he asked. When she agreed, he continued. "Will you put a protection charm on yourself when we are together?"

Victoria said nothing and bit her lip as she nodded once. Truth was she always had a shield spell in place whenever they were together, not because she feared him but because
she
didn't want to hurt him. Enhard had had a right to worry; she was every bit as dangerous as Brigid had been.

She sighed as Christian stroked her hair, lulled by the warmth of the fire and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, and closed her eyes, falling victim to the safety of his embrace as she always did.

Christian kissed her temple and felt her pulse immediately jump with life beneath his lips. Like a beacon, her blood soared, cognizant of its own seductive power and predatorily recognizing his weakness against it. He could hear it calling sensually to him with the tone of a forbidden lover and he sighed as he felt the tightening of his upper jaw. He'd fed earlier, but still it wasn't enough.

It was never enough.

He stood and stepped away putting several feet of distance between them, and stared out the window at the moonless night. Her scent curled around him. He sighed. Without any noise, he opened the French doors and stepped out onto patio, welcoming the cool air against his face.

Victoria heard him leave. She had reawakened the minute her treacherous blood started its tormenting song. Her heart wrenched at its duplicity. She closed her eyes, refusing to consider the possibility that he'd be better off without her, and without her blood tempting him every infernal second. Christian was right, they did have every reason to be afraid, but as long as they had each other and fought to protect what they had, then their love had to mean something.

Didn't it
?

She leaned back on the sofa and stared at the ceiling, her fists clenched at her sides. After some time, she heard the sound of a violin in the next room, passionate and violent. Christian played to assuage something he too fought to express, his music giving voice to everything unsaid between them. Its cadence was harsh, the melody fraught with notes that sung of pain, and anger, and loss.

From Bach to Vivaldi, Victoria could feel him playing the runs faster and faster, whipping his bow at an impossible speed as if trying to exorcise something inside of him, the storm building and building and building, scale after scale, until it came to an exhausted, crashing halt.

Expelling a shaky breath, Victoria felt his spirit ease then as his strokes on the violin gentled into a more tender
Adagio,
soaring to something unbearably, poignantly sweet. It was music that only love could make, its language hauntingly beautiful, and one Victoria recognized—one that her mother had played to her father often.

It was a message ... a promise ... a love letter.

Christian was playing for her, weaving a spell she'd almost forgotten, one of beauty, and love, and unconditional hope. She felt a tear slide down her cheek as her throat constricted, the sounds of his raw emotions owning her completely, as she knew hers owned him, and telling her what no words could.

I will love you forever.

A few moments later, Christian returned to the room, closing the doors behind him. She felt the weight of the sofa shift as he sat down beside her, his smooth hand finding hers and gripping it like a lifeline. It was warm to the touch. Strong. He would be strong enough for both of them.

"Stay with me, Victoria," he said.

"Always."

These are some of the songs that I listened to while writing this novel. These particular songs influenced and inspired specific chapters or scenes, and whether I got stuck or was on a roll, I found myself replaying them over and over. Forthwith, the playlist:

21 Guns,
(Metamorphosis/Inheritance)

Bleeding Love,
Leona Lewis (At First Sight, Revelation, Falling)

Breathe,
Telepopmusik (Discovery)

Say It Right,
Nelly Furtado (Angst)

Paralyzer,
Finger Eleven (Eye for an Eye)

Bring Me to Life,
Evanescence (The Attack)

Falling for You,
Jem (The Prophecy)

The Hand That Feeds,
Nine Inch Nails (Paris: Christian/Lucian)

Life In Mono,
Mono (Paris: Christian/Jardin des Tuileries)

Road to Zion,
Damian “Jr. Gong” Marley & Nas (Paris: Christian)

Stop and Stare,
OneRepublic (The Council)

Savin’ Me,
Nickelback (Snowstorm: Tori)

Never Say Never,
The Fray (Happy New Year: Christian and Tori)

Already Gone,
Kelly Clarkson (The Fight)

Better In Time,
Leona Lewis (Misunderstanding: Tori)

Blurry,
Puddle of Mudd (Misunderstanding: Gabriel)

Always,
Saliva (Vulnerability and Rage: Gabriel)

Glory Box,
Portishead (Romeo and Juliet)

Missing You,
Jem (Betrayal)

Pour Que Tu M’Aimes Encore,
Céline Dion (Blood and Magic :
Christian)

24,
Jem (Paris Revisited)

Run,
Leona Lewis (Clash of the Titans: Tori and Christian)

What About Now,
Daughtry (Bloodspell)

I Don’t Care,
Apocalyptica (Bloodspell: Lucian)

Deliver Me,
Sarah Brightman (Graduation)

Adagio in G Minor,
Albinoni (Graduation)

It takes a village, that's all I can say. I owe a ginormous debt of gratitude to the many people who helped me get this book off the ground and for believing in me even when I didn't believe in myself.

With all my heart I'd like to thank my husband, Cameron, whose support and love is unending, for never letting me give up (and for making sure the kids didn't go without bathing for days at a time while I was writing this book); Pam Sullivan, one part agent, one part editor, one part friend, for keeping me grounded and for all the laughter; my mother Nan for her unwavering faith and for helping me to find mine; my valiant first readers, Robert Stickney, Gian Gosine, and Amanda Davis, for their motivation, enthusiasm, and honesty; J. Mark Lane, attorney extraordinaire, for his expert and generous guidance; Craig Gordon for keeping me stocked in reading material and vampire paraphernalia; my brother Kyle for cheerfully enduring all of my questions on high school life, love, and lingo; the talented team at Langdon Street Press for helping to make this book a reality; and especially, my wonderful children, Connor, Noah, and Olivia for being so patient when mommy needed "just one more minute" to finish that chapter.

Finally, to my parents, who always encouraged me to think differently and fueled my hungry imagination with as many books as I could sink my teeth into, and to my beautiful family, whose love makes every breath worth more than I can possibly imagine, thank you for everything.

AMALIE HOWARD
grew up on a small Caribbean island where she spent most of her childhood with her nose buried in a book or being a tomboy running around barefoot, shimmying up mango trees and dreaming of adventure. She received a bachelor's degree from Colby College in Maine in International Studies and French, and a certificate in French Literature from the Ecole Normale Supérieure in Paris, France. She has also lived in Los Angeles, Boston, and New York City. She has worked as a research assistant, marketing rep, global sales executive, freelance writer, and blogger. A lover of other cultures and new experiences, especially of the culinary variety, she has traveled extensively across North America and Europe, and as far east as China, Indonesia, and Australia. She currently resides in New York with her husband, three children, and one very willful cat that she is convinced may have been a witch's cat in a past life.

Amalie Howard's debut novel,
Bloodspell,
evolved from a short story that took on an eerie life of its own, and is undoubtedly the result of a lifelong infatuation with witchcraft, vampires, and excessive amounts of chocolate.

Twitter:
http://twitter.com/AmalieHoward

Blog:
http://www.amaliehoward.com

Bloodspell Website:
http://www.bloodspellbook.com

Facebook Bloodspell Page:
http://www.facebook.com/BloodspellBook

Goodreads:
http://www.goodreads.com/amaliehoward