Authors: Evangeline Anderson
It’s hard for me to believe that about Aiden—I thought he was
different. But as Lexy points out, even if he’s a centuries old vampire, he’s
still a guy. And guys are fundamentally untrustworthy—at least according to
her.
I keep waiting for him to call, hoping he’ll prove her wrong. Even
if he’d just pick up the phone for a minute to make sure I’m okay, I’d be so happy…but
he doesn’t. He doesn’t call and he doesn’t come into the shop on the days that
I work. For all intents and purposes, he seems to have completely disappeared.
Sometimes I wonder if he doesn’t like my new look. After all, he
always claimed to like me just the way I was and my magic did a complete
makeover when it finally manifested. I think it’s a big improvement—aside from
the fact that I’m still plus sized—but maybe he doesn’t see it that way. I hate
to think that Aiden would be that shallow, but maybe now that I look so
different, he’s lost interest.
I think about going to his house and talking to him but that reeks
too much of desperation. After all, he released me from my service to him, what
excuse could I give for showing up? I can’t even say I left my things at his
place. The day after the incident with the Vampire Council, a big cardboard box
arrived for me with all my clothing folded neatly inside. He’d even sent my
cell phone and charger—everything was accounted for. I must have hunted through
the box for an hour, turning every damn piece of clothing inside out but there
wasn’t so much as a note. It hurt so much I sat down and cried afterward. And
then I nearly set fire to the shower curtain when I tried to take a hot shower
and relax.
All in all, not a good day.
Things are looking up a little now, though. I have my powers
mostly under control and I’m finally moving back to my own place. Lexy wanted
me to stay with her longer but I decided it was time to get back to my normal
routine—whatever that is. I’ve been living such a strange, surreal existence
for so long now, I don’t know if I’d recognize normal if it bit me on the ass.
When I finally step in the door of my little second story loft in
Ybor City, my first thought is that it’s good to be home. My second is that
everything is dusty with disuse—it’s been months since I lived here.
I don’t love to clean house but I get to work anyway, trying to
put my place back in order…trying to put my
life
back in order. To go
back to the way things were before Aiden picked me out of the crowd and claimed
me…then tossed me aside like a broken toy he didn’t want anymore.
Thinking of my vampire master makes me sad and blue. After my
cleaning spree, I decide to take a hot bath, drink a glass of wine, and go to
bed early. I have to be to the shop tomorrow at seven, anyway. We’re training a
new person to run it since my aunt declared that letting power like mine go to
waste behind a counter is a crime against the Goddess. So I’d better get an
early night.
As I snuggle into bed between fresh sheets, I close my eyes and
send a silent prayer to the Goddess for deep sleep with no dreams. I’ve been
having nightmares lately, dreams of blue witch-fire turning into hungry, golden
flames that leap from my fingertips and consume everything in their path. I
always wake up panting and covered in sweat but they seem to be your garden
variety nightmares.
I’ve only had The Dream once since I went home with Lexy. It
presaged my period, as usual, only this time I had a normal cycle. Meaning the
cramps were bearable and my period lasted about a week instead of one hideous
day from hell. It seems that my blocked magic was also to blame for the
terrible stabbing agony I used to get. Now that it’s unblocked, it can flow
freely, normalizing my menstrual cycle, which is inextricably tied to it.
Tired of thinking about The Dream and my other nightmares, I close
my eyes and count sheep. Around sheep number two hundred, I finally drift
off…only to find myself looking right at my mother.
“Emma?” She steps toward me, her arms held out.
My heart jumps. If this is a dream, I don’t want it to end. “Mom!”
I rush to her arms and she holds me, our ebony hair mingling around our
shoulders. To my surprise I realize that I’m taller than she is now. Well, of
course I am. The last time I saw her I was only eight and…and…
“Mom,” I say in a rush. “Mom, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—I
never meant to start that fire. I thought I was helping you. I didn’t know…”
“Hush, sweetheart.” She puts a finger to my lips and then hugs me
again. “I know all that. I’m not angry—I love you. I’ll always love you, no
matter what.”
“Oh, Mom…” Tears sting my eyes. “Then you forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” she says firmly. “It was an
accident. Any child can burn down a house if you leave the matches lying around
where they can get them. It just so happens your matches were inside you, if
that makes any sense.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” I take a deep, trembling breath.
“I’m just glad you’re safe,” she says softly, brushing a strand of
hair out of my eyes. “Thank the Goddess the vampire came when I called him. No
one else could have gotten to us in time, no one else could have saved you from
the house and protected you from the satyr.” She pats my cheek. “He loves you,
you know. Very much.”
“I don’t think so,” I whisper. I feel tears rising to my eyes and
try to wipe them away. “He hasn’t called or come to see me since he released me
from his service. I think he’s completely forgotten about me.”
“Of course he hasn’t.” My mother sounds indignant. “He—” Suddenly
her face changes. Her eyes grow large and her cheeks grow pale. “Emma, darling,
I love you and I forgive you but now you have to wake up.”
“What?” I look around and see that the edges of this little
reality we’re in are melting away. “No, please,” I beg. “I don’t want to wake
up, Mom. I want to stay here with you.”
“You can’t.” She gives me a grim look. “You’re in danger. Wake up,
Emma! Wake—”
"—up, you little bitch. Wake up.”
I gasp as my mother’s frightened face fades completely away. My
eyes fly open to see the dark face of Emilio Sanchez leaning over me. His
thick, goaty smell is suffocating in the small space of my bedroom. I open my
mouth to scream but he grabs me by the throat, choking off the sound before it
can even start.
“Told you I’d make you pay,” he growls, grinning fiercely at me,
his slotted yellow eyes burning in the darkness. “I’ve waiting to get to you
for fourteen years, girlie, but now your number’s up. I’m gonna kill you nice
and slow but first I’m gonna fuck you, just like I promised.”
“No!” I try to shout but he’s choking off my air and it comes out
as a desperate whisper instead. I think of kicking the walls to wake up my
neighbors, but the condos on either side of me are empty. In fact, there’s only
one other person in the whole building, an eccentric musician named Seth, and
I’m pretty sure he’s on tour with his band right now. I’m literally all alone
with no hope of escaping from the murderous satyr.
No, can’t think like that! I’m not helpless—I have power now.
Except I need my voice to cast a
spell. A fact that Sanchez doubtless knows or he wouldn’t be choking off my air
until I see black spots dancing in my vision. I realize I have to hurry—if I
let him make me unconscious, I’ll never wake up.
Burn him, Emma,
a voice whispers fiercely in my ear.
Burn him like you meant to
all those years ago.
And just like that, the solution comes to me. I may not be able to
say a spell, but I don’t need the power of my voice to call a witch-fire. The
last time I tried to use it to drive Sanchez away, it went horribly wrong. But
I’m an adult now and a powerful witch. I’m determined to make up for the past
and get it right this time.
Lifting my hand, I point my first two fingers at him and call for
the flames. Immediately, blue sparks spit from my fingertips and directly into
his face. One lands directly in his yellow eye and Sanchez gives a cry of
horror and lets me go. He knuckles his wounded eye with one hand and slaps at
his clothing and hair with the other. But the witch-flames are hungry. They
grow and spread, licking over his clothing and his dark, greasy hair.
The satyr howls and stumbles backward. He falls to the floor as
the flames consume him and he becomes a living torch. I stare at him in horror,
frozen to the spot. There is a horrible smell like cooking meat as he writhes
in agony and now the witch-flames are spreading, jumping away, searching for
more fuel.
No!
My
paralysis breaks and I call to the flames. “Come back, turn back! Stop!” But
already the fire is beyond me, out of my limited control. They have been paid
their due—the satyr’s writhing form is proof of that. But the witch-flames are
horribly fast and voracious. They tear down the hallway and through my front
door, spreading to the lofts on either side and the building beyond. Goddess,
what have I done?
I watch numbly as the fire ignores my commands and then turns toward
me. It rushes across the carpet and climbs the curtains, framing one of my two windows
in flames. A feeling of
deja vu
fills me. This is exactly how it
happened when I was a little girl. I called the fire and then I couldn’t
control it. It’s going to eat me now, like it ate the still twitching Sanchez.
Like it ate my mother. I’m going to die in agony, alone…
“Emma!
Emma!”
A deep, familiar voice is calling my name. I jerk my head around,
wondering where it’s coming from.
“The window,” he shouts. “Come to the window!”
I run to the one window not engulfed in flames, just as I did as a
child. But this time instead of seeing the face of a monster waiting to hurt me
outside, I see Aiden. Fear is etched on his white features as he shouts for me
to open the window.
I wrestle with the heavy sash and finally wedge it open. The room
behind me is filled with smoke and it billows out, making me cough and choke.
“Aiden?” I gasp, looking down at him.
“Emma!” There is unmistakable relief in his eyes. “The whole
building’s on fire,” he shouts up at me. “I can’t get to you. You’ll have to
jump.”
“Jump?” I feel the pit of my stomach freeze in fear. The loft I
live in may only be two stories but they are very
tall
stories. The
ground is more than twenty five feet straight down and I’ve always had a fear
of heights.
“Jump!” he shouts again, holding out his arms. “Come on—I’ll catch
you.”
No way, uh-uh,
whispers the voice of fear in my head.
I don’t think so.
“I’ll
come the other way,” I tell him. “Maybe I can get through.”
“No! You’ll never make it!” His roar is loud enough to be heard
over the hungry flames. I can feel their heat on my back and I’m afraid that
any moment my hair will go up in a gold and orange and red corona just like my
mother’s did so many years ago. Still, I’m afraid. Afraid to climb out onto the
ledge and let go.
“But—”
“Emma.” His voice is stern and low and it sends a strange tremble
though my body. With a start, I realize he is using his Master voice on me.
“Emma,” he repeats in that same tone. “Come out of the window
.
Right
now, do you understand?”
The many nights of erotic play rise up in my mind and I feel my
body reacting, obeying, even though my brain wants to refuse. My head is dizzy
and my hands are shaking as I climb out the window and stand swaying on the
ledge, looking down at my master standing so far below.
“Master,” I whisper but somehow Aiden hears me.
“Now jump,” he commands, holding out his arms. “Trust me, Emma,
I’ll catch you. I’ll always catch you.”
I don’t jump so much as fall. My fingers somehow peel themselves
from the window pane and then, with a low cry, I’m flying free in the night with
the ground rushing up to meet me. I close my eyes tight, not wanting to see,
not wanting to know when I’m about to make impact…
Then two strong arms catch me and pull me close.
I put my arms around his neck and hold on tight. I’m crying and
shaking and I feel him shaking too. Then, suddenly, he’s running. Running so
fast the wind stings my eyes and I have to shelter my face in the crook of his
neck. I have a confused impression of the raging fire receding in the distance
and streets and houses streaming by at the speed of light. Then dark branches
are whipping all around us. Up ahead, I see a house with glass walls, lit from
within by a golden radiance. Unable to help myself, I think
home.
Aiden doesn’t stop until he has me in the living room of his house
and is sitting on a couch, still holding me. Only then does he speak.
“Darling.” He crushes me to him, burying his face in my hair. “Oh
Emma, I thought I’d lost you.”
I’m tempted to melt at his words but then I remember he said the
exact same thing after we healed the binding spell and I fainted in front of
the Vampire Council. And then he left me and never called once. I struggle
against him, trying to sit up.
“Why are we here? Why did you bring me to your house?”
“I…” Aiden looks stricken. “Instinct, I suppose,” he says at last.
“You were in danger. My first impulse was to bring you where I knew I could
keep you safe. To bring you home.”