Something Witchy (Mystics & Mayhem) (42 page)

I honestly don’t think I have ever seen anything more gorgeous in my entire life.  His bare chest gleamed in the low light of the lamps.  I reached out and traced the muscles I had been dreaming about since the moment I laid eyes on him, using only my fingertips.  He sucked in a sharp breath when they brushed over the silvery scar over his heart, the only thing that remained of the wound that had nearly killed him, and I felt a ripple go through him from head to toe. 

When he stretched out beside me and wrapped me in his arms again, I laid my head on his chest and breathed in the scent of his skin like it was a sedative.  And that’s when I heard it, the soft thud of a single heartbeat.  I had slept on Nathan’s chest before, letting the sound of his breathing lull me to sleep, but I had never heard his heartbeat.  Holding my breath, I waited.  After a second or two, in which time my heart thumped at least four times, I heard it again.

“Did you think I didn’t have a heart?” Nathan teased.

“No, I just assumed you didn’t have a heart
beat
,” I told him shyly.  “I didn’t hear it before, when we were on our road trip to Grams’.”

“Another myth,” he said softly, holding me closer and tangling our legs together beneath the soft, silky-feeling sheets.  “I do have a heartbeat, but it’s different than yours.  Where your heart beats once or twice every second, mine might beat once every five or ten seconds, less if I haven’t fed for a while.  That’s why you didn’t hear it when I held you as you slept during our trip.  I wasn’t feeding the way I should have.  I wasn’t kidding that night when I told you I was thirsty and you smelled like heaven.”

“So, is that where the myth came from?” I asked, genuinely interested in everything about him, even something as simple as a heartbeat.

“Probably.”  He shrugged before smoothly changing the subject.  “Now, it’s your turn.  For everything I tell you or explain to you, you have to tell me something about you.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” he whispered, tilting my chin up so he could look in my eyes.  “I want to know everything, Em.  I want to know what you like, what you hate, what your favorite color is.  I want to know what you were like growing up and what you want to be when all this craziness is over.  I want to know
you
.”

So our game began.  For every story he told, he demanded one from me, as well.  Every tiny fact he gave me about vampires, I had to tell him something about myself.  He told me about his mother, I told him about mine.  He made me laugh with stories of growing up with seven brothers and sisters; I told him how lonely it had been to be an only child.  When I clammed up, he pressed harder for the bits and pieces of information that made up the jigsaw puzzle of my life, and I made him tell about the dark parts of his.

Even though there was no one else in the house to hear us, we spent the rest of the day and most of the night whispering our secrets to one another, the quiet cocoon of the bedroom making it seem like we were the only two people left in the world.

It was sweet and beautiful, and with every word that fell from his lips I fell a little bit more in love with him.  He was so much more than just that pretty face and hot body.  He was everything I had ever wanted in a guy and so much more. 

He was perfect. 

For
me
.

The Next Chapter Begins

There wasn’t a soul around as the cloaked figure slipped out into the night, her head covered and shielded from the bright moonlight overhead.  Her heart raced as she moved with quick, determined steps.  The hem of her robes brushed the dead leaves as she moved through the frigid chill of the shadows, the dry, rustling sound the only sign of her passing. 

“Just a little longer,” she said, smiling as her destination came into view.  “Just a little longer, and that spoiled little brat’s power will be mine.”

The moonlight seemed to shy away from the ruins of the old church as she approached.  She smiled, thinking that was fitting.  A place of sanctuary it had never been.  The horrors committed within the depths beneath the crumbling structure were known only by a few, most of whom would never dare to enter such a vile place.  She alone had seen its power.  She alone had embraced it.  And she alone would reap the rewards.

The witch remained still after closing the door of the crumbling structure behind her, checking for signs that the building was playing host to more than just herself.  When she heard nothing but the moaning of the wind through the cracks in the mortar and the screech of rats fighting over their nightly meals, she continued toward the marble altar.  Her footsteps echoed against the cold, damp flagstones, and she found herself searching for an unseen adversary with every step, her pulse racing.  Every sound was the sound of footsteps following her, intent on keeping her from succeeding.

She counted the stones that made up the floor as she walked, and when she reached twenty she stopped and looked around once more, making sure she was still alone.  Then, holding her breath in anticipation, she pressed down with the toe of her boot on the stone etched with a mystical sigil so ancient that few, if any, knew its true meaning any longer. 

A cleverly disguised trapdoor rose up before her, revealing a dark, winding staircase leading to the bowels of the old church and she hurried down them without aid of a light.  She was more than familiar with the rusted places in the iron steps and the treads that were too dangerous to step on and must be skipped over, having made the same journey many times.

 Only when she reached the last step did the robed figure stop to light the candle she pulled from her pocket.  By the guttering light of the flame, she hurried down the short, low passage to her right until she came to the door at the end.  It was carved with more arcane sigils and she ran a trembling hand over them, feeling the familiar tremor of fear as the power within bled through the wood. 

Pushing the door open with the utmost care, the witch slipped into the room.   The chamber was round in shape and completely empty save for an ancient stone table in the center.  It was to this table she walked and placed her hands, bowing her head in reverence to the power it contained.  The blood of the innocent had seeped into its rough surface and the souls it had trapped seemed to call to her for release. 

But she was only there for one soul.

She pulled a small amulet from her pocket and arranged it just so on the surface of the altar, arranging it so that the engraved, jeweled swirls faced upwards.  Then, taking a step back, she began to chant in a language handed down to her by her mother, a language forbidden by the Council of Elders.  Just to be caught speaking it was an unforgivable sin in their narrow-sighted view.

As she chanted, the swirling center of the amulet began to move, spinning faster and faster until the light reflecting off its jewels seemed to form a multi-colored whirlpool.  A coldly brilliant light began to emanate from the very center, small at first but growing larger and larger the longer she chanted.  When the winds began to blow through the room, slapping her robes against her ankles and shins, she felt a thrill of triumph.

The light exploded from the amulet so abruptly that she was startled and nearly stumbled back.  When the brilliance faded and the amulet was cold and still once more, she saw a figure kneeling on the floor before her.  He looked like she’d just dragged him straight from Hell, a fitting description for his time in the void.  His clothes were ragged and blood-stained.  There were burns and cuts on his arms and his golden hair was matted and filthy. 

“Get up, you fool,” she snapped coldly.  “You have a bargain to keep.”

The figure lifted icy blue eyes to her face and sneered, “If you had kept your end of our deal, my work would already be done.”

“And if you hadn’t been so arrogant, she never could have banished you,” the witch hissed back, her voice like a whip in the unnatural stillness of the room.  “I provided you with not one, but
two
chances to get what you wanted and you failed both times.”

“You forget your place, witch,” he said coldly, getting to his feet with exaggerated slowness. 

“Don’t forget who brought you back from the void, demon,” the cloaked figure countered, ignoring the little jolt of unease she felt at taunting a demon.  “Had I not needed you to finish what you started, you would still be rotting in the Nether with the rest of the monsters.”

“What exactly is it that you need of me?” he asked, leaning against the table behind him and crossing his muscular arms over his chest.

“I need you to do what you agreed to do!” she screeched, her eyes wild and crazed.  “I want her power!  That little fool has no idea what she carries inside her!”

“And I want
her
,” he said, shrugging.  “Guess that just goes to show we don’t always get what we want.”

They glared at each other silently.  Then, with a mysterious smile, the witch turned and reached for the door.  As she exited the room, she said quietly, “You will give me what I want, demon.  If you don’t, I will find someone else who can…and return you to the hell I just pulled you from.”

He watched her as she slipped out the door, unimpressed with her threats.  Oh, she would get what she wanted—they had a deal, after all—but not because he was there to do her bidding.  He would accommodate her because it would benefit him to do so.  Had it not, he would have killed the traitorous witch before the first arrogantly-commanding syllables left her tongue.

“Ah, Ember,” Jack whispered.  “I have missed you, my love.”

He searched for her, for her unique essence, without moving a muscle, letting his mind cross the space between them to find the one he sought.  He felt a flare of fury when he found her, wrapped in her bloodsucking lover’s arms, but then a smile that would have chilled the coldest hearts pulled at his lips.  They thought the danger was over, that the threat had been contained and they could live happily ever after.  His little love had no idea how fragile her peace was. 

But she would.  Very soon, she would know what real terror was all about.

A Note from AJ Myers:

Something Witchy
has been a labor of love.  And hate.  And insanity.  And I have loved every single minute of it.  Is this my first book?  No.  Is it my favorite?  Oh, most definitely!  I’ve been in love with Ember and her crazy cast of friends and family since the day I sat down and, out of nowhere, typed,
All my problems started with a dead guy.

I couldn’t have done this without the support of
my
friends and family.  I have the greatest husband a writer could ask for who puts up with some serious drama when I write.  I have amazing kids who make me laugh, make me cry, drive me crazy, and prove everyday that they are definitely
my
kids.  I have a wonderful sister who has no qualms about confiscating the laptop to remind me there’s another world besides the imaginary one I spend most of my time in.  And my friends…I couldn’t have better friends if I had created them in my secret laboratory in the basement.  Oh! Shoot! Guess it’s not so secret now, huh?

But, this book would still be collecting dust on my laptop if I hadn’t, in a moment of frustration, sent Sara King my query letter to get her opinion when I kept getting turned down by agent after agent.  She saw something in my writing no one else saw—and then tore it all to pieces and made me do it again and again until I learned to be the writer she knew I had the potential to be.  If it wasn’t for her and the crew at Parasite Publications, this little adventure would never have fallen into your hands.  So yeah.  When you fall in love with Ember and Nathan, you know who to thank. 

If you want to keep up with what’s coming next, you can find me on Facebook at
www.facebook.com/ajmyersnovel
and on the Web at
www.ajmyersnovel.com
, or, feel free to drop me an email at
[email protected]
.  And be sure to check Parasite’s website,
www.parasitepublications.com
,for more great novels to fall in love with.

Now, go fall in love with mine! 

About the Author