Blood Kissed

  “Can you remember the names of the other people in your group?” I asked.

  “Maybe. It was a long time ago.” She frowned. “I think there were eight—no, nine—others.”

  I pulled out my phone and opened the voice recording app. “Tell me the names you remember.”

  “Morris Redfern still lives here, and Mary Jones died in a car accident when she was twenty-five,” she said. “The others moved out of the reservation years ago. I have no idea where they are now.”

  “Just tell me their names. We can search.”

  She did so, although for a couple of them, all she could remember was their first names. When she’d finished, she wrapped the ends of her coat more tightly around her body and said, “Do you really think Karen was targeted because of that one event so long ago?”

  “It’s a possibility we can’t ignore.” I stopped the recording and tucked my phone back into my pocket. “What can you tell me about the girl? Or her parents?”

  “Her name was Frieda.” She paused. “Frieda Andersen, I think. We never saw her dad—he apparently had a night shift job somewhere in Bendigo. Her mom didn’t work.”

  “Did Frieda have any brothers? Sisters?”

  “No,” she said. “But there were a couple of other women living with them—it was another reason Frieda was mocked. We only ever saw them occasionally, when they came to pick Frieda up from school if her mom couldn’t make it.”

  So the women weren’t vampires, although we couldn’t yet rule out Frieda’s dad as a possibility. While vampires might, as a general rule, be loners, there were always some exceptions. These came in the form of pods—a small group of humans who willingly allowed a vampire to feed on them in exchange for security and an easy life.

  If being a vampire’s meal ticket could ever be considered easy.

  That being the case, however, it meant our vampire couldn’t have been Frieda’s dad. Vampires were not fertile, so the only way he could have had a child was if he’d inseminated one of them before he’d turned—which was certainly possible, I guessed, even if it made the subsequent living arrangements a bit more perilous.

  But if he’d had the control to feed from three women without killing them, why take so long for retribution? Why wouldn’t he have done it right there and then? It didn’t make much sense.

  “Where did the family live?” I asked.

  Marjorie hesitated, and then shook her head. “It was somewhere on the west side of town.”

  “But in town, rather than out in the scrub?”

  She nodded. So much for the vague hope that Frieda’s home might be our vampire’s current hideout. “Is there anything else you can tell me about the family?”

  “No. As I said, it was a long time ago. That’s why I’m struggling to believe it could be related to what has happened to Karen.”

  “It might not be, but if you can’t remember any other event, it has to be considered,” I said. “Was Frieda buried here?”

  “No. But I can’t tell you why.”

  Maybe they simply hadn’t wanted her buried in the town that had all but killed her. Or maybe Frieda had shared blood and was about to become a vampire herself, so they dared not risk remaining in the town. “What happened to the family after Frieda’s death?”

  She shrugged. “They were never seen again, as far as I’m aware.”

  And I doubted a search would reveal much information on where they’d gone, especially if we were dealing with a pod. Not only had it all happened a long time ago, but it was easy enough to get a new identity if you knew the right people or spells—Belle and I were evidence enough of that.

  “If you do think of anything else, please call me,” I said. “In the meantime, maybe it would be best if you left—”

  “No.” Her expression switched from guilt to anger in an instant. “Karen is here and I will not go anywhere until I see her.”

  “Marjorie, a newly turned vampire is nothing more than an insane mess. She won’t know you. She won’t even remember who she is. Everything about her has changed, and it’ll take time—”

  “I’m her mother,” she said. “I will not abandon her.”

  I hesitated, then pulled the charm from my wrist and held it out. Belle would kill me, but Marjorie needed it more than I did right now. “Then wear this. It will at least offer you some protection from the vampire who raised Karen last night.”

  Her expression was somewhat dubious as she accepted the charm. “How can something so fragile in any way deter a vampire?”

  “Magic can do many things,” I said. “Wear it, and it’ll hopefully keep you safe.”

  She slipped the charm over her wrist and then rose. “You’ll call me if you hear anything? Either about Karen or the vampire?”

  “I will.”

  “Thank you.”

  She left. I locked up again and then headed back upstairs. I didn’t fancy reheating the crumbed fish in the microwave, so I made myself a cup of tea and grabbed a packet of Tim Tams from the cupboard. It might not be the fuel my body needed, but my soul also had needs, and right now it wanted chocolate biscuits.

  I was halfway through the packet when I felt the faint caress of magic. It wasn’t witch in origin, but rather dark.

  Blood magic.

  Our vampire wasn’t neatly tucked away somewhere recovering his strength and controlling Karen.

  He was out there, in the night, raising hell.

  Chapter Seven

  I grabbed my keys and backpack, then raced downstairs to the reading room. As much as I wanted to stop whatever might be happening out there, I wasn’t about to do so totally unprepared. And that meant grabbing my athame as well as some of the precious blessed water we had in stock. I had no idea what spell was being cast, but those two items gave me the best chance to combat it. And if I was too late to do that, I could at least cleanse the ritual site.

  Once outside the café, I paused, despite the growing urgency. I needed direction. I couldn’t afford to run around blindly.

  The force of the spell rose again and tugged me left, toward Barker Street. I briefly debated whether to grab the car, then abandoned the idea and simply ran. I couldn’t drive and concentrate on tracking the sensations running across my skin. I just had to hope that the location wasn’t too far away.

  I turned left into Barker Street without really looking, and crashed full force into someone who smelled faintly of warm musk and smoky wood.

  Aiden.

  His arms went around me as he staggered back several steps, but he somehow managed to keep us both upright. “What’s the emergency?” he said, his voice a little hoarse.

  Which was no surprise given the force with which I’d hit him. “Someone is casting a spell. I need to stop it.”

  I thrust away, but he grabbed my arm, stopping me. “Can you track this force in a car?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’ll drive. This way.”

  I followed him down the street. Once in his SUV, I wound down the window and closed my eyes. The wisps of energy that was the spell were getting stronger; whatever the vampire was trying to do was reaching a pinnacle. Time was running out.

  “Continue straight down Barker,” I said. “And floor it.”

  The truck’s big engine roared as we hurtled down the street. “Can you tell what type of spell is being cast?”

  “No, but it’s blood magic, not witch.” I didn’t open my eyes, needing to concentrate on the nebulous threads of power rather than the world whizzing past. “Right at the next road.”

  “Princess Street.” The truck tilted alarmingly as he took the corner at speed.

  The spell peaked, the power of it so strong—so dark and wrong—that my skin twitched and stomach rolled.

  “Left,” I said, voice tight.

  The truck slid sideways for several meters before he got it under control. “Cemetery Road.”

  Those two words had horror surging. Our vampire wasn’t raising hell. He was raising the
dead.

  “He’s in the cemetery—”

  “What the fuck would he be doing there?”

  “Attempting the second part of his vengeance plan, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “Meaning what?” Aiden’s gaze stabbed toward me, something I felt rather than saw. “Trust me, now is not the time for cryptic comments.”

  I gripped the door, bracing as the vehicle did a sharp right and slipped around on a graveled surface. We’d entered the cemetery.

  “Meaning if I’m right, and if we don’t stop him, we could be dealing with a zombie.”

  “Oh fuck.”

  A statement I echoed as the caress of magic died. “Stop.”

  He slammed on the brakes. As the Ford came to a shuddering, sliding halt, I threw open the door and scrambled out. The energy was fading fast but its remnants led me left, toward the rear of the cemetery.

  I raced through the gravestones, every sense on high alert. Just because the main spell had reached completion didn’t mean there weren’t others here—especially if our caster was aware his plan to wipe me out had failed.

  Candlelight flickered through the trees ahead, a faint glow that did little to break the darkness or lift the unease coursing through me. The magic might have faded, but the sense of wrongness was still very much present—one that was now accompanied by a weird sort of anger. It was an emotion that seemed to be coming from the night itself.

  I cut through the strand of trees and ran on. Magic stirred anew, but its touch wasn’t dark. It was fresh, light, and powerful—wild magic. It was here, in this cemetery, and full of the anger I’d sensed only moments before. It curled around me, urging me on—something I had no idea a non-sentient force could do.

  I caught sight of two figures up ahead—one tall and broad of shoulder, the other hunched and cloaked.

  Energy surged, and a sphere of what looked like a boiling mass of blood began to form above the two men. The taller of the two made a throwing motion and, as the red mass hurtled toward us, picked up the cloaked figure and ran in the opposite direction. I threw up a hand and started casting a diversion spell. The wild magic gathered around me, weaving itself into the spell and creating a force far greater than I’d intended.

  A second sphere formed at the end of my fingertips—it was bright, white, and as deadly looking as its counterpart. It wasn’t what I wanted, and I had no idea what it might do, but it was all I had. I flung it at the darker mass flaming toward us, then spun and threw myself at Aiden.

  This time, he had no chance to catch his balance, nor did I want him to. He caught me with a grunt and we crashed to the ground as one.

  “What the fuck—” he said, the words little more than a wheeze.

  “He just threw something at us.” I slipped to one side and twisted around. The two spheres continued to arrow towards each other, and the air burned with their joint fury.

  “What the hell are those things?”

  “Ethereal fires,” I said. “Dark and light.”

  The two of them hit and halted, the white merging into the red and disappearing. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. The merged spheres simply hovered above the ground, pulsing and heaving as each spell fought for control over the other, creating a field that rippled out in ever-tightening circles. It was accompanied by a whine that reminded me of an engine being pushed too hard and too fast.

  There was only way this could end.

  “Cover your eyes,” I said, and buried my face into Aiden’s side, breathing in his warm, rich scent to counter the bitter fury of the pulsing spheres.

  With an almighty roar, the spheres blew apart.

  Even though I had my eyes squeezed shut, I was nevertheless aware of the fiery heat that sprayed across the night, and of the wild magic chasing and consuming those droplets. None of them hit us, but the ground sizzled and the stench of burned grass touched the air.

  Lizzie? Belle’s mental tone was concerned. Is everything all right? I just felt an almighty rush of power—

  It was a spell, but not one specifically aimed at me. Which technically wasn’t a lie because it had also been aimed at Aiden. I’ve dealt with it, so there’s nothing to worry about. Get back to enjoying your lovely werewolf, and keep those mental shutters down!

  A statement that fills me with suspicion.

  I promise, there’s nothing to worry about. Not now, anyway. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow morning.

  If I find out you’re holding out, I’ll be pissed.

  And I’ll be pissed if you don’t shut the hell up and get back to enjoying yourself.

  Her laughter ran down the mental lines. Fine. I’m gone.

  The slight buzz that was the connection between us shut down again. Around me, silence had again fallen and the sense of danger slipped away. I carefully lifted my head. The night was empty of any sort of magic, wild or dark, but we were completely surrounded by thick patches of burned grass. The wild magic had saved us, by both enhancing my spell and then protecting us from the fallout.

  That scared me, almost as much as the power the vampire could so readily call into being.

  I wasn’t the local witch. I wasn’t even a vetted witch. The wild magic shouldn’t have even recognized my presence, especially when I had yet to enter the wellspring to commune with it.

  But it wasn’t just that—it was also the anger I’d sensed within it. I’d always believed wild magic wasn’t sentient, but if that were true, how in the hell could it have been angry?

  Was Belle right? Did the wild magic not only hold some form of awareness, but was it also the reason I’d felt compelled to come here?

  But that raised yet another question—why me? If the magic within this reservation were capable of calling a witch to it, why wouldn’t it have called to someone far more capable?

  Aiden pushed to his feet. “What the hell sort of spell was that red sphere?”

  “A nasty one.”

  “Which you destroyed with one of equal power,” he said. “And that is yet another indicator you’re not what you claim.”

  “Except it wasn’t all me. The wild magic subverted my spell and created something I had not intended.” I paused as instinct suggested that whatever had happened here tonight was just the start of things—but the start of what, it wouldn’t say. I rubbed my arms, though it did little against the gathering chill. “I did warn you it was dangerous.”

  He briefly scanned the graveyard. I had the suspicion he was searching for the magic he didn’t have the capacity to see or feel. “I thought you said the wellspring was in the O’Connor compound?”

  “The wellspring is, but the wild magic itself isn’t restricted to that area. As I said, it’s everywhere on this reservation.”

  “Ah.” He offered me his hand. “I have to tell you, I’m struggling to believe any of this.”

  “Which is hardly surprising given your less than stellar opinion of both magic and witches.” I placed my hand in his and let him pull me up. “We’d better go see what he was doing.”

  He didn’t immediately release me. “You look rather pale—are you all right?”

  I nodded. He hesitated, and then stepped to one side to allow me to pass. But his grip moved from my hand to my elbow, as if in readiness to catch me should I stumble or fall. I didn’t object—my legs were more than a little wobbly. It had been a long time since anyone of power had tried to kill me—over twelve years in fact—and this bastard had now tried twice.

  “Is it really possible to raise the dead?” Aiden asked.

  “If you know the right spells, yes.” I glanced at him. “I don’t know those spells, in case you’re wondering.”

  A slight smile touched his lips. “Are you sure you’re not telepathic like your friend?”

  “Trust me, your thoughts are totally safe from me, Ranger.”

  “Aiden, please, especially given I’m going to need your help to catch this bastard.”

  That raised my eyebrows. “So hell really has frozen over???
?

  “Possibly.” His voice held just a touch of self-deprecation. “Certainly it’s something I would have thought impossible a year ago.”

  The candles were still burning up ahead, which meant our vampire either hadn’t closed off his pentagram or he hadn’t used one. Even for those of us who followed the path of light, their usage often depended on what sort of spell was being created or on what sort of magic or spirits were being called forth.

  “I can smell blood,” Aiden said. “It’s fresh.”

  “He would have had to make a sacrifice if he was raising the dead.” I paused. “How strong a scent are we talking about?”

  He glanced at me, his expression one of curiosity rather than anything else. “Why?”

  “The longer a body is in the ground, the bigger the sacrifice has to be. Reconstituting flesh isn’t easy.”

  “I’m not sure whether to be relieved or not by that statement.”

  “Opt for the former,” I replied. “It means he should be out of action for the next day or so.”

  “Should is also not a word I find comforting in this sort of situation.”

  A smile tugged at my lips. “This bastard does keep doing things he shouldn’t be able to.”

  As we drew closer to the grave, it became evident that the two candles I could see were it—and that, in turn, meant there was no pentagram.

  My gaze slipped from the candles to the grave itself. It was open, and the earth had been flung in all directions, suggesting the vampire’s magic had simply punched through it to get to the body. With more than a little trepidation, I looked at the gravestone.

  Mason Redfern, son of Emma and Morris Redfern. He’d been buried thirteen days ago, and had only been sixteen years old.

  The same age Frieda Andersen had been when she’d committed suicide, the same age Karen was when she’d been killed.

  I doubted any of it was a coincidence.

  “Do you know how Mason died?”

  “Car accident,” Aiden said. “His car ran off the road and hit a tree.”

  “Why was he driving when he was only sixteen?”

  “Teenagers are allowed to drive solo at that age within the reservation as long as they obey a rather strict set of criteria.” He shrugged. “Up until Mason, we’d had no major accidents.”