Sire (23 page)

"Angelica, I—"

"No, Michael. This is probably my fault, really. I forget, sometimes, how young you are, and how much I still have to teach you." She smiled. "But then you do something like this, and I remember.

"You are a vampire, Michael," she said. "You have no place in their world, not any more. And the only place they have in ours is as food. Or a distraction."

"It doesn't have to be that way."

"Yes it does," Angelica said. "Do you really think you can love her? Love her the way she wants to be loved, needs to be loved? She's a mayfly, Michael. She'll be dead before you know it, and you ... you're eternal. And that will haunt you, every single moment you look at her. Maybe not right away, but soon. When you can't help but notice that she looks just a little bit older than you. When you start noticing those fine lines forming around her eyes. When you look at her, and can't quite recognize the girl you loved so passionately."

"I won't—"

"Maybe you won't. Maybe you really are one of the good ones. Maybe you see the beauty beneath the surface or love her for her soul or whatever it is that you've told yourself. But what about her? Don't you think that it's going to weigh on her, too? That she isn't going to see herself growing older and weaker and uglier, and start to resent you? Or worry that you're going to leave her for someone newer, better? Do you really think a mortal can live with one of us?"

Michael hung his head, and was quiet for a moment. "You're right," he said finally.

"I know that I am. Now, if you're ready to continue ..."

He looked up at her. "What if she agreed to be changed?"

Angelica felt the beast rising up inside of her, but she quickly gained control, and covered with a bitter laugh. "Changed? Her? How long have you known her? And you're all ready to offer her eternal life?"

"How long did you know me before you decided to change me?"

"I've had a very long time to practice evaluating people, Michael. My judgment is better than yours."

"You've said yourself how beautiful she is. Isn't she worth protecting? Preserving? What if we—"

"No, Michael. You're being childish, and I'm done listening to this."

"But what—"

"
Michael.
" The word was a hiss. "We are done discussing this. And you are done with her."

Michael opened his mouth, but Angelica kept going. "This girl is clouding your judgment. She's preventing you from growing into what you must become. And for your own good, I forbid you from seeing her again."

"Angelica, I—"

"And if you disobey me, if you treat me to one more vision of your little escapades, I will end her." Michael's mouth dropped open. "Yes," Angelica said, "I saw you two. And I'll admit, she is fun to look at. But looking at her through your eyes? I didn't enjoy that. You should thank William for cleaning up after you, by the way. That's rather demeaning."

"You said you weren't jealous."

"I was wrong. You are mine, Michael, and it turns out, I can't stand the idea of sharing you. So I make you a promise. If you see her again, I will do things to her that make Liam's plans look pedestrian. I will bleed her slowly. I will make her beg me to kill her. And I will let you watch every moment of it."

Angelica stood, and the sheet dropped to the floor. She crossed the room and stood before Michael, who turned his head away. Angelica ran her fingers across his chest. "I think that's enough for tonight," she said. "One day, Michael, you will realize that I did this
for
you, not
to
you. And you'll thank me."

Michael stood there as if he was carved from granite. Angelica slapped him on the ass. "I'll see myself out, lover."

Chapter Fifteen

The spell book sat on Evan's right. His notebook, inscribed with the fire sigil, was on his left. The candle was right in front of him, stubbornly unlit.

Evan rubbed his eyes. God, his head hurt. He wasn't even sure how long he'd been at it. Staring at that damn candle, trying to summon the primordial energies of creation or whatever the hell they were supposed to be, and trying to bend them to his will.

If Michael hadn't sworn that this damn book was legit, he would have given up days ago.

And maybe that wasn't such a bad idea. He'd wasted
days
on this crap. Days that he could have spent finding a better way to deal with Liam. Tracking down silver bullets or ordering cases of holy water or Googling garlic recipes. Pretty much anything would have been more productive than this.

But.
But
, if this did work, then it would be incredible. Not only would they have a weapon that would be effective against Liam, but his world view would have to change dramatically,
again,
in just two weeks. If magic was real, well, he wasn't even sure what that implied. But it definitely meant that he would have to do a whole lot of thinking.

Still, that was a pretty big
but,
and a damn big
if.

He took a deep breath, focused on the candle's wick, and touched the sigil. He could feel the energy stirring inside of him. Or could he? Was he just psyching himself up, like one of those people at a faith healing service?

The candle didn't even hint at lighting.

Evan released his breath and leaned back in his chair. This was stupid.

"God damn it," Evan said, and slammed his hand down on the sigil.

Golden energy rippled across the ink. Evan could feel it pulsing under his hand. He gasped and stared at it, afraid to leave his hand there, but afraid to move it, too.

He looked up at the candle. Slowly, he stretched out his right hand, then pointed at it. "Fire," he whispered.

Flame erupted from the wick, so high that it scorched the ceiling. Evan jumped back. "Holy hell!" he yelled. His chair toppled over, and Evan wound up on his back. He scrambled back to his feet and stared at the candle. The flame continued to burn for a second, and then it shrank back into itself, finally disappearing altogether.

Golden energy rippled along the sigil. Then, without warning, the paper itself lit on fire. No, not fire, but some kind of energy consumed it. And just the sheet that had the sigil on it.

"Okay," he said to himself. "So maybe that's the key. Anger. Or at least some kind of strong emotion. And the sigils are one-time-use only." He stopped. "Unless ... the paper just can't handle the energy. Maybe if it was made of something more permanent ..."

He sat down and tore the ruined sheet off the notebook, then re-drew the fire sigil. The candle smoldered silently in front of him. Evan touched the sigil and closed his eyes, turning his focus inward. He remembered why he was doing this. Why he was angry. He remembered what had been done to Bethany. What could have been done to Alexis.

He took that anger and formed it into a little ball. Pictured it right in the center of himself, and then pictured it moving out to his right hand.

Evan opened his eyes and pointed at the candle, then touched the sigil. "Fire," he said in a firm, steady voice.

Again, energy swam across the sigil. He felt it travel up his arm, felt it meld with his anger, felt it rip across the room and stab at the candle's wick.

Fire began to manifest again, but Evan held it with his mind. He felt it straining against him, but he contained it, limiting it to a few inches. The flame danced in the air. Evan thought it seemed almost sullen at being denied freedom.

Evan turned his hand and closed his fingers. The flame disappeared, and the sigil consumed itself.

"Oh my God," he said. Then he ran across the hall.

Alexis answered his pounding. "Oh, hi Evan. Are we talking again tonight?"

Evan sighed. "Okay, you're right. I'm a jerk and an ass and an idiot, and I'm sorry, but I need you to come over to my room
right now.
"

Alexis arched an eyebrow. "You should really give a girl more warning. I would have shaved my legs."

Evan let out an exasperated breath. "That's not what I'm talking about—"

"Figured."

"Look, I don't want to talk about it here, but I
really
need to show you something."

"Fine." Alexis rolled her eyes, and stepped out into the hall. "Let's go."

He led her back to her room. "Um, what the hell have you been doing in here?" she asked, looking up at the black mark on the ceiling. "Setting off fireworks?"

"Something like that," Evan said with a grin. "Close the door and watch."

He quickly sketched the sigil, and repeated his little ritual. Focus. Feel the anger. Feel the energy. Touch the sigil. Release.

Fire.

"Oh sweet jumping Christ in a mini skirt!" Alexis said. She had backed up, and was pressed against the door. Her eyes were the size of dinner plates, and her mouth hung open.

Evan grinned at her. "Right?"

"That's ... oh my God, that's incredible. I mean ... that ... oh my
God.
"

"That's what I said."

"I thought ... I mean, I know we're dealing with freaking
vampires,
but I didn't think ... and you can do this whenever you want?"

"It looks like it. I mean, that was only the third time, but I think I have the hang of it."

"Do it again."

He did, and this time tried to exercise more control over the flame. He made it about six inches high, but then willed it to expand into a ball, until it looked like there was a miniature sun sitting on top of the candle. He held it there for about thirty seconds, but then the sigil consumed itself, and the flame died.

"What happened?" Alexis asked.

Evan looked down at the ruined paper. "These things don't last very long. Each drawing is only good for one spell, and it looks like I can only do the spell for so long before the sigil eats itself."

"Huh. Well, I guess that kind of makes sense. So, there are like, rules and stuff."

"Looks like. Which is actually good. I can wrap my head around rules. I can use them."

Alexis was nodding. "And you think you can use this against Liam?"

"Well, I want to talk to Michael about it, since he's the expert on things with fangs, but yeah, I think we can."

"Babe, that's amazing. I don't even know what to say." She sat down on the bed and stared at the smoke curling up from the candle.

Evan sat next to her. "So ... do you want to have sex now?"

Alexis looked over at him. "Oh
God
yes."

***

Michael stood on a balcony overlooking the main dance floor at Indigo. The music, some crap new techno band, blasted through the club's speakers. Michael gritted his teeth. The blue and white lights were just strong enough to allow the humans to see what they were doing, but Michael's eyes saw everything.

In the center of the floor, one of the newer vampires—newer meaning fifty years old or so—was talking to a pair of girls.

"You must be new in town, am I right? Is that why you couldn't get anybody to bring you here?" the vampire asked.

"We could have gotten someone to bring us," the first girl said. She was wearing a tight pink shirt with a faded 93 on it. Her hair was long and blond, her eyes big and blue, and her lips were full, luscious, and stained red. "We just didn't want to be stuck with someone lame if we found someone more interesting." She ran her fingers over the vampire's arm.

The vampire ignored her, and turned to the other girl. She was plainer than the first, with flat brown hair and shy brown eyes, and clothes that didn't accentuate her curves the way her friend's did. "How long have you been in town?" the vampire asked.

She perked up when he spoke to her. "Oh, we just started classes a couple of weeks ago."

"Really?" the vampire said, smiling at her. "What are you studying?"

"I'm an English major," the first girl interrupted, stepping just slightly in front of her friend.

The vampire looked back at her. "Really? I'm kind of surprised that they still offer that. I mean, there's not much of a job market, is there?" He turned back to the plain girl. "What about you?"

"Oh, I'm a nursing major."

The vampire smiled again, and the girl blushed. "See, that's what I'm talking about. That's a career that will make a difference."

The first girl gave her friend a dirty look. "Well I'm going to be a teacher. That's important, isn't it? Teaching the next generation?"

The vampire acted like he was giving her words serious thought. "I suppose you're right." The first girl puffed up a little, happy to finally win his praise.

The vampire looked around the club. "Say, it's kind of hard to talk in here, isn't it? Do you girls want to find some place a little quieter?" He looked at the first girl and smiled. "We can talk about future generations."

The blond girl beamed. "We'd love to."

The vampire took them both by the hand and led them off the dance floor. Michael tracked them until they disappeared through the rear fire door. Michael's talons bit into the balcony's banister. Startled by the noise, he looked down at the gouges he had made, and forced his claws to retract.

Another vampire stood in the corner, largely concealed by shadows.

This vampire wasn't particularly handsome, and didn't appear particularly intelligent. Michael was actually surprised that he had been turned at all. Most vampires were more selective. The change would have improved his features some, made them more symmetrical, more even, but there was only so much it could do. The vampire didn't have the crooked nose or scars that identified hired muscle, but it was pretty clear that that's what he was. Both before and after he died.

A girl walked by him, her face buried in her cell phone. The vampire's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. The phone tumbled to the club floor.

"Hey, what the hell?" the girl said. Her voice was high-pitched, whiny.

The vampire didn't speak. He just locked eyes with her. Michael felt a tiny wave of pressure as the vampire took hold of the girl's mind. Her hands fell to her side, and the expression drained off her face.

"Let's go," the vampire said. The girl followed dumbly behind him.

"Kelly? Kelly? You still there?" said the voice from the cell phone. A guy walking past stepped on it, crushing it. He looked down, saw the mangled plastic, shrugged, and went on his way.