Silverthorn (4 page)

No one stood there.

That didn’t lessen the pressure on my lungs. I glanced to my right.

The space was vacant.

Only one other direction remained. With a growing sense of dread clamping down on me, I craned my neck to the left. I turned back to the other side of the bed.

A hooded figure in a black cloak crouched over the bed with only a few feet separating us. A white, bony finger shifted beneath the heavy cuff link and pointed at me. “Don’t trust…yourself!”

I stared wide-eyed at the formless creature. The scent of decay reached my nose. The room seemed to constrict, sapping the oxygen from the area around me.

Zephora must have manifested this presence by astral projecting. The hooded figure pulled both hands from its cloak and grabbed its hood, prepared to pull it back. Then it stopped and knelt closer.

Instinctively, I recoiled, determined to put as much distance between us as possible. But in reality, I only managed to move a few inches.

The figure removed part of its hood, and it looked like jagged currents of electricity danced in twin orbs in what were probably its eyes.

A shrill ringing to my left made me blink: my cell phone on my nightstand.

I blinked and discovered that the figure crouching toward me had vanished. Where had it gone? More importantly, why had it appeared in my home?

The phone rang again, and Lulu quivered under the covers,

I put a hand on Lulu and petted her, trying to comfort her. The brisk temperature had somehow collapsed on itself, defying physics and allowing more temperate climes to take its place. I blinked once more at the space the figure had inhabited only moments ago. At first, I thought Grams had visited. But a second later, it seemed that a darker spirit had pushed her aside and taken her place, even if she hadn’t been able to maintain her form. So who had it been? Grams? Or some other, more sinister, spirit?

Once more, the phone rang.

The piercing clatter in an otherwise silent room jolted me out of my reverie. I snatched my phone. “Hello?”

“Well, hello dear!” Zephora said.

A streak of fear crawled across my skin. Zephora could only astral project while asleep, and since she had called only a couple seconds after the mirage had disappeared, it was unlikely she had visited me only moments ago. But if she hadn’t sent the hooded figure, who had?

CHAPTER THREE

“What do you want?” I asked in a steely voice. Lulu barked at my distant tone, but I shushed her into silence. I presumed she was too frightened to mutter another sound.

“I want the same as you,” Zephora said, “a full and happy life.”

“But you already had that. Three hundred years ago.”

“You consider burning at the stake at thirty years of age…a full and happy life?”

She had me there. “What do you want?”

“To stay in contact with you, of course.”

“What makes you think I want to see or hear from you? We’ve spoken more than enough lately as it is.”

“We last conversed a couple days ago, my dear. Nowadays, that stretch of time is an eternity, is it not?”

That all but confirmed my assumption that Zephora hadn’t visited me moments before calling me. I didn’t know how to follow up her remark, so I remained silent.

“Has someone appeared to you…in my image?”

“Not exactly.” I balled my fists, wishing I had thought twice before speaking.

“Intriguing,” Zephora said. “And
what
appeared to you?”

“We have nothing to talk about,” I said, anger igniting inside me. I pulled the phone from my ear, ready to disconnect the call. I had only stayed on the line as long as I had to determine whether Zephora had just visited me. Since she hadn’t…

“What if I told you that I know
who
, or just as correctly,
what
appeared to you?”

My finger lingered the button to hang up, but as I weighed the pros and cons of continuing to talk to a murderer, curiosity got the best of me. I stayed quiet a little longer so as not to appear desperate for information. “I’m listening.”

“Are you, Serena? You’re quite impulsive. Quite rash.”

“I tend to be when a bunch of vampires try to kill me in a public place.”

“Yes, I heard they visited you earlier this evening.”

“Visited?” I asked, astounded by the way she downplayed the attack.

“Yes. I am quite appalled by your incessant need for public adulation. You really should work through your self-esteem issues.”

I ignored her condescension. “So you sent them to kill me?”

She chuckled. “Well, it is not quite so simple.”

“Either you did or you didn’t. There’s no middle ground.”

“Then I did not. I merely tasked Darius with informing the vampires he recently turned about your existence. They made an attempt on your life of their own accord. But I can hardly blame them. It is an instinctual desire to be free.”

“But killing me won’t free them from the curse.”

“Yes, but you have considerable influence over Celestina. Removing you from the equation will make it that much easier to manipulate your niece. You understand.”

“No,” I growled into the phone, unable to contain the anger that burned inside me. What kind of lunatic discussed killing another person as calmly as placing an order at a fast food restaurant? “I don’t understand. You said you didn’t want to hurt her.”

“Yes, she is much more valuable alive than dead.”

That should have settled my nerves, but it meant that Zephora planned to manipulate Celestina. But how would my niece fit into her plans? “Why did you call me?”

“It is only good manners to inquire about the health of family members.”

“But you tried to kill me!”

“You are a poor listener, my dear. I did not make an attempt on your life. The vampires did. Who am I to tamper with their free will?”

I tightened my grip around the phone, wanting to whip it against the wall. But if I gave in to that impulse, Zephora would no doubt reveal a condescending smirk. Not that I could see it, of course, since we spoke on the phone. Just the image of that creepy grin of hers made me shiver.

“Well,” Zephora said, “I should be going. I have plenty of work ahead of me, as you can imagine. Please accept my congratulations on surviving the vampire attack.”

“Wait,” I said, gripping the phone tightly, upset with myself for sounding frantic about ending the call without finding out about the figure that visited my room. “You seem to know who visited me a few moments ago.”

“Yes. I do.”

“Who is it?”

“He has many names. And many faces.”

“Mephisto!” I said, almost panting at the recollection of the man who visited me a couple days ago, hoping to regain the Soul Sword. He had the ability to shape-shift as well as appear and disappear at will. He’d first appeared as an overweight geeky fan boy with a penchant for Mickey Mouse and binge watching television shows. He next confronted me in the strip club that Alexis worked at. That time, a three-piece suit covered a muscular frame, and he looked like a professional with little time for petty matters. Two distinguishing factors allowed me to recognize him the second time: his same cold and distant smile and the scar on his face.

“Mephisto,” Zephora said as though savoring the way it sounded on her tongue. “I suppose that name is as good as any.”

“What do you know of him?”

Zephora took in slow deep breath. “You will not find a more deranged individual anywhere in existence. Nor will you find one who wields such power.” She paused. “Good day, Serena.” Then she hung up.

I put the phone down and considered everything Zephora mentioned. She considered Mephisto as both a person and a creature. What did that mean? She’d also used the word ‘existence’ with regard to Mephisto. Did Zephora mean that he had existed for eons? Or did she mean that I’d never find a more powerful person on the planet? Was he a sorcerer? Was that how he’d been able to appear in spirit form?

Then again, Grams told me that the women in our line had never given birth to a son, which sounded preposterous. But I believed her, since she had no reason to lie. I assumed someone or something had cursed the women in our line to produce only females, and because Alexis, Celestina, and I were the last remaining witches in the country, that meant Mephisto had to be something else.

For Zephora to speak so cryptically about Mephisto, she had either worked alongside him, battled him at some point in the past, or avoided him at all costs. It all added up to one thing: Zephora feared him. And when the most powerful witch in our line’s history displayed misgiving, I found it best to heed her words the next time Mephisto visited. Which could be ten minutes from now…or ten days from now, based on his unpredictability.

I had no illusions he wouldn’t return. If he wanted the Soul Sword, a weapon Grams had handed down to me before passing, he would no doubt continue trying to regain control of it. Since he hadn’t fought me to obtain it, he had seemed to imply he wouldn’t use physical force to do so. So what prevented him from stealing it? Or knocking me unconscious and taking it from me? For whatever reason, it was obvious he couldn’t use whatever powers he had amassed to take back his sword. Since Grams told me that the sword could kill any paranormal entity by piercing their heart, I wondered if Mephisto fit in that category as well. It could explain why he wanted it.

On second thought, if he desperately wanted it, he would have done everything possible to recover it as quickly as possible. But he obviously wasn’t in a hurry to reclaim it. Otherwise, he would have been visited at regular intervals until he got what he wanted. This latest visitation confirmed that suspicion. If it were imperative to reacquire the Soul Sword, he would have
actually
appeared, not shown up in spectral form. That left me to think that he wouldn’t drop by anytime soon. I suspected that he appeared moments ago to keep me off balance by worrying when he might next drop in. He no doubt planned to wear me down by occasionally appearing when I least expected it. It was a low-effort, high-return concept...if I fell into his trap. But since he hadn’t threatened me, and because I got the impression that he wouldn’t visit me anytime soon, I put him out of my mind.

The doorbell rang.

*              *              *

Unsure who would visit me at 2:00 AM, I rushed down the hall, concerned one of my friends had run into trouble of the vampire-centric-kind. Lulu raced ahead of me, skidded to the stop at the door, and turned back to me while gasping for breath with a smile on her face. Like so many dogs, she probably suspected the visitors had come by to pet her. But logic told me that visitors who dropped by in the middle of the night were not harbingers of good fortune and solely interested in scratching Lulu’s ears.

“Good girl, Lu. Let’s see who stopped over.” I met her at the door and looked out the peephole.

Darius, flanked by Kendall and Brandon, clutched their shoulders. Kendall appeared ready to begin crying at any moment, whereas Brandon put up a false front of complete confidence, but I the tension tugging at his eyes and lips made it clear he was just as frightened as Kendall was.

Darius, however, wore a lackadaisical smile as he looked into the peephole.

Fright swept into me as my breath left my lungs. I’d never faced Darius in battle before, and knowing that he could beat them to death without much effort, made it difficult for me to think straight. Momentarily weak, I waited a few moments until I collected enough oxygen to make my dizziness drift away.

Rather than whine for me to open the door, Lulu looked up at me with a quizzical look. Still, she appeared to dance from one front paw to the other, unable to fully control her enthusiasm at potentially hosting visitors. The movement forced Lulu’s name tag to jingle against her chain collar.

“I can hear you breathing, Serena,” Darius said from behind the door. “I suspect your heart isn’t beating so erratically solely because you have a late night visitor?”

His arrogance sent a jolt of anger into my bones.

“It seems you’re even more frightened than your little puppy.”

Referring to Lulu in such a cuddly way spiked my animosity. No longer feeling intimidated or startled by his unexpected visitation, I flipped on the porch light, unlocked the door, and whipped it open.

Darius met my gaze with the kind of gentle grin a young man would deliver to an elderly lady while he offered his spot in line at the grocery store. Only Darius probably didn’t shop at the grocery store…unless he scanned the aisles for human victims. He clenched Kendall’s right shoulder in his palm, holding her upright beside him. She looked pale and woozy. In all likelihood, Darius had sampled some of the blood through the two puncture marks on her neck. Brandon, however, stared straight ahead, looking dazed, as though he’d been hypnotized…or in this case, compelled to follow Darius’s every command.

My first inclination was to rush forward and attack the bloodsucker so he would release my friends, but instead, I allowed common sense to take hold. “You better not have hurt them.”

“Or what? You’ll burn my face off?” His grin turned condescending. “Please, Serena. I’ve been a vampire for over three centuries and you’ve been a witch for three days. I know more about magic than you do. You are no match for me on any level: intellectually, physically, or emotionally.”

I couldn’t argue that point. If he’d spoken in hopes of making my legs shake and forcing my mind to race in circles without a way to end this predicament…he’d succeeded. And I couldn’t even find my voice to pretend otherwise.

“How truly pathetic,” he said with a snide smile. “And don’t even try to persuade me that your chest isn’t trembling. Or that your voice wasn’t quivering.” He turned his attention to Kendall. “But I applaud your endeavor to prove that you’re not frightened…that you’ll be unable to save your friends.” He set his gaze on Brandon before meeting mine. “And you should be. Very frightened.”

My attempt to sidetrack him while searching for a way out of this mess failed. However, some of my fear subsided, regardless of what Darius thought. “What do you want?”

“A trade. The Soul Sword for your friends.”

Although Lulu hadn’t yet met my friends, she barked, probably sensing my fear as only a dog could…well, only a canine
and
a vampire. That knowledge made warmth spread across my cheeks. Lulu stopped at my right heel. She growled at Darius, pawing the ground, as though tempted to leap onto him. Then she barked repeatedly at him, even if her high-pitched bark sounded cute rather than threatening. At that moment, no matter how much trouble I had in requesting her to stop, heal, or sit, I had never felt so much momentary love for a dog.

“Cute little toy,” Darius said, eyeing her with a snarl.

The way he stared at her told me that Darius wouldn’t hesitate to strangle Lulu…the moment after he drained Kendall of her bodily fluids. Not only that, but he looked as if he’d enjoy crushing Lulu’s larynx even more than bleeding Kendall dry. I tramped down on the heat that rushed through my chest, through my shoulders, and down my arms. But if I attempted to raise my hand with the intention of throwing a ball of flames at Darius, he would snap my friends’ necks before I even managed to aim at his chest.

Looking closer at Kendall, I spotted what appeared to be a faded smear of crimson on her upper lip. Blood? She didn’t have any bumps or bruises, so Darius hadn’t worked her over. I did my best to pretend that Kendall only suffered from the diverse effects of having donated blood. Which was true…just not of her own volition.