Witchfire 
Book 1  
 by Cyrese Covelli
 
 
 
ISBN: 0-7443-1453-X
 
 
Look for the rest of the Witchlock Series:
Book 2: Shadowshifter
Book 3: Wolfsmage
 
 
Copyright 2008 by Cyrese Covelli
All Rights Reserved
 
 
 
Published by SynergEbooks
http://www.synergebooks.com
 
 
 
PART ONE
 
VAMPED
 
 
 
 
Chapter One
Twisted
 
 
The first time my sister shape-shifted, neither of us knew what was happening.  I took one look at Gemma, my big sister, my friend, my beloved tormenter- and ran for it.  I know – real heroic, right?  Well, give me some credit; I did turn around after a mile or two.
As scared as I was, it was nothing compared to how horrified Gemma felt.  When I forced myself to go back to her, she was collapsed on the floor of her bedroom.  Stuck halfway between panther and girl, her usually green eyes were tinged orange. Her mouth and nose fused together in a muzzle.  Two velvety ears poked out from between her curtain of dark brown hair and her hands curved like claws at the end.  I steeled my nerves, crept forward, and patted her shoulder.
"It's…its okay, Gemma,” I said.  A low growl rumbled from her throat and she scratched at the wood-bare floor.
"How is this going to be okay?” 
"I don't… I mean.  This is kind of cool, right?  You have this power.  You're like a super-hero or something,” I said.  Gemma snorted and rolled her eyes.
"Right.  A super-hero.  What am I, Cat-girl?  Fluffy the rodent slayer?”  Just minutes later, she had shifted back to usual. This was pure luck because our grandma was coming over for dinner and I didn’t think the sight of her granddaughter in panther fur would have been good for her.
 
                                                * * * *
 
When my sister's secret was uncovered, we were dancing at a VIP club in a pre-celebration party for my fifteenth birthday.  I wasn't sure if driving to Chicago was such a great idea with her powers still not fully understood, but Gemma insisted on going.
"I'll have to get used to having this freak-power sometime. Besides," she'd argued.  "I only start to shift when I get really upset.”  Judging from the fact that she had first shifted after receiving a phone call from our father, who we had not seen in almost fifteen years, this seemed a valid point.
Despite both of our worries, we had gone out to the club.  We might have been okay if we’d gone to The Kitchen, Asylum, or any one of the teen dance clubs, but I wanted to go to The Crimson.  My best friend Denise's boyfriend, Dax, told her it was the coolest place.  It was a theme bar with scary décor and a row of coffins making up the bar. Waiters dressed as vampires, and punch was served in a cauldron.  I had always loved scary stuff, you know, movies and books. Vampires and Werewolves and ghosts, oh my!
The Crimson was supposed to have different types of music, cool strobe lights, and a huge dance-floor.  The cover was cheap and the deejays were great.  The bouncers were supposed to be lax in the I.D. department, too.  It sounded like the perfect place to celebrate my fifteenth birthday and I was psyched.  Unfortunately, my perfect night ended with Gemma exposed and the two of us near death.
           
 
 
Chapter Two
Chicago at Night
 
 
Denise was picking me up in a few hours and I was flying. Not literally- that would come later. Dax had told us that most of the crowd wore gothic-type clothes.  I took this to mean they wore a lot of black, which was why I was in front of my closet, knee-deep in black skirts, shoes, and tops.  I picked up a black mini-skirt and put it in my "maybe" pile.
Normally, I wouldn't wear such a short skirt.  I’ve had a thing about skirts since an incident when I was eight years old.  Let’s just say, the whole third grade shouldn’t know you still wear My Little Pony Underoos just because you got a little tuck-happy.
The only reason that I considered wearing the mini was because it had a pair of shorts built right into the material.  I tugged the mini on, found a silky red halter-top that came all the way down to my navel and tied it around my neck.  After finding my three-inch black platform Mary Janes, my outfit was complete.
I painted my toenails a blackish brown called "I Love Oil" and my fingernails a sheer crystal sheen with clear polish.  I slipped on several toe-rings and a silver anklet with black beads dangling from the chain.  By the time I finished my make-up and blow-dried my curly ash-blonde hair straight it was almost time for Denise to arrive.
Stoked for my pre-birthday funfest, I’d already begun dancing.  My favorite radio station was playing one of those cheesy pop-princess songs, but even that didn't put a damper on my good mood.  Imitating the moves from the song's music video, I felt excited and impatient for the night to start.
Denise called when I was in the middle of pressing a heart-shaped rhinestone decal onto my right upper arm.  I rubbed the decal backing a few times, tore it off, and studied the sparkly tattoo left behind.  I picked up on the third ring, but before I could say hello Denise interrupted.
"Asch.  I have some really bad news.  I can't go tonight." I remained silent for a long time, waiting for her to confess that she was just kidding.  When she did not I crossed my arms over my chest.
"We've been planning this for a month.”
 "I'm so sorry, Asch.  I know we've been talking about this for, like, ever, but my Step-monster is making me stay home with Rory.”  Denise had a terrible relationship with her stepmother, partly because she had had something to do with her parents' separation.  Rory was Denise's six-year-old stepbrother, and a terror.  "I told her I had plans, but she said I need to carry more responsibility around the house.”  I bit my lip in frustration.
"Did you ask your dad?"
"No, he has a huge mega-important meeting at work.  His secretary wouldn't even put me through to him.  Look, I know you are really upset and I am so sorry about this, Asch.  You don't hate me do you?" I was extremely disappointed; mad even.  How could she let this happen?
"No, of course not.  It's just, we've had this planned forever, and I've been getting ready all day…" I stopped in mid-sentence feeling sorry for giving her a guilt trip.  It wasn't Denise's fault her stepmother was such a witch.  "I understand, though.  I'm just sorry she's making you sit for Rory. He's a little spaz." Denise laughed, relief filling her voice.
"Yeah, I know.  It's times like this when I think freshmen should be allowed to carry tranquilizer darts," she said. "I'm so happy you're not mad at me.  We'll do this whole dance-night thing as soon as we can and we'll definitely hang out tomorrow night."
"Definitely, I’ll see you then.”
"Okay. Try to have a good night, Asch."
"You, too.  Good luck with Rory."
When we had said our goodbyes, I hung up and chucked a bed pillow across the room.
"Ascher? Is everything okay?" My sister knocked a few times before opening my door.  "I thought I heard something fall." I glanced at the pillow I had thrown.
"You heard that? Gemma, it was a pillow. Denise canceled on me.  I can't believe you could hear that!" Gemma had noticed that her reflexes were becoming quicker and that she could see in the dark, but until now, I did not know her other senses had gotten stronger, too.
I felt another pang of guilt bite at the inside of my stomach.  Here I was, freaking out because I couldn't go dancing when my sister is changing into a frickin' cat. 
Real nice, Ascher . 
We still hadn't told mom.  Gemma promised we would talk to her just as soon as she learned how to control her new powers.  Mom had always been wary of supernatural stuff. She didn't even like us dressing up for Halloween or watching scary movies.  The whole subject of magic and monsters just made her freak.
Gemma ran her fingers through her dark brown waves and managed a small smile that did not quite reach her green eyes.
"Yeah. It’s been weird.  I actually heard Angel walking up the stairs last night." My eyes widened.  Angel was my sister's gray tabby-cat.  She was almost a year old, but was the tiniest thing.  The fact that Gemma could hear her walking up the thick, plush carpeting on our stairs was amazing.
"What's it like? Does it hurt when you change shape?" I had wanted to ask Gemma this question for weeks, but never had the guts to get it out there.  She smiled and stepped into my bedroom, sitting next to me on the floor.
"It only hurts for a few seconds, kind of like I have a Charlie horse in every muscle, but then I'm so full of adrenaline, it doesn’t matter. It's kind of cool.  I feel so strong and powerful.  I mean, being able to move so fast and sense things more is great- but, sometimes…it's just…” 
Gemma's eyes welled up and her shoulders shook.  She threw herself forward and I caught her in a tight hug, stroking her hair and making small hushing sounds. 
"I'm so scared, Ascher.  I don't know what to do.  I want to tell Mom and I don't want to tell Mom.”  Gemma's breath caught as sobs raked her body and forced her to silence.  I held her, the guilty pang in my stomach now gnawing with such force I felt as if my skin were about to burst.
"I'm sorry, Gem.  I was so caught up in my own stuff.  I just didn't…”  Gemma cut me off with a dismissive sweeping of her hand.
"No, Ascher.  It’s your birthday and the two of you have been planning this forever.  You should be pissed.”  I opened my mouth to argue, but Gemma thumped my leg. "It's my baby sister's birthday in a few days and we're gonna celebrate, okay?  I will take you wherever you want to go.  We both need to get out of this house and have some fun.  Besides, we cannot miss the perfect opportunity to go crazy.  "
Gemma was referring to the fact that our mother was in Tampa Bay on business and would not be home until late Sunday night.  Our mom didn't leave us alone, though- we weren't that lucky.  Grandma Thyra, on our Mom's side, would be coming over tomorrow night to stay with us.  Since we would be at school all day tomorrow and Grandma had a church meeting to go to later tonight, we had the house to ourselves.
"It's Friday night, we've got a whole day before Grandma gets here. If we didn't go out, I'm pretty sure we'd be the biggest dorks on the face of the planet."
"I don't know if it's such a good idea. What if you start to, you know?” Gemma stood up and placed her hands on her hips.
 "I've got to get used to this whole thing- whatever it is. I'm not going to let it control where I go or what I do.  It has been getting easier to stop the change, too.  I just take deep breaths and count to ten.  I'm the one in control here, not this thing!”  Gemma sounded as though she was trying to convince herself more than me.  "No arguments, Asch.  I'm going to get ready.  We'll leave at eight-thirty."  She spun on the heel of her slippered foot and stalked out of my room.
                            
 
 
Chapter Three
The Crimson
 
 
By the time we reached The Crimson and found a parking spot, it was nearly ten.  I could feel the throbbing beat of the music under my feet as we approached the crowd of people waiting outside the club.  Heads began to turn in our direction and I glanced at Gemma and smiled, used to the attention my big sister received.  She rolled her eyes and dug through her small black purse, her brow furrowed.  She wore a slinky black sleeveless shirt and a pair of red faux-leather pants she’d borrowed from last year’s Halloween costume.
A trio of giggling girls surrounded one of the bouncers, trying to flirt their way inside the club.  The moon was almost full, its milky-white orb seeming both small and large at once.  The high-pitched beeping of my sister’s ring-tone interrupted the soft music of crickets.  Gemma flipped her phone open, her free hand moving to block the pulsating beat of the music.
"Hey, Sarah.  No, I'm at a club with my…you're not serious!”  Gemma mouthed a sorry and took a few steps away from the line.  I rubbed the Goosebumps on my arms and stifled a small yawn.  I needed a serious frappucino-fix.
Another yawn forced my mouth open and it was at this time when my mouth was extended wide like some fish out of water that I noticed an extremely hot guy looking at me from twenty feet away, not exactly the best first-impression to make.  I blushed and looked down at my shoes, feeling unnerved.
Having been the skinny, tall, shy wallflower for the first thirteen years of my life, I found it strange that I was suddenly one of the girls getting the attention.  Sometimes I still have the urge to turn to see who they are looking at or I think I must have something on my face or in my teeth.  It was weird, but it was a nice change, too.  Still, I feel awkward and clumsy talking to guys.
I looked up and inhaled a sharp gulp of air.  The boy who had been staring at me was walking my way.  He was tall, with well-muscled arms that showed through the burnt-gold, silky material of his shirt which was covered by a black suit jacket.  Black pants fell over his shiny black shoes, grazing the pavement underneath him.
His shirt was partially unbuttoned, revealing the dark red of a stone, fastened with a black cord around his neck.  Chocolate-brown hair fell in wispy layers around his face and framed his dark green eyes.  Realizing I had been gawking at him the whole time, my face flushed and I bit my lip.  He smiled and dimples showed on either side of his full mouth. 
Oh, God.  What was I going to say?
Not knowing what to do with my arms, I crossed them over my chest and then uncrossed them again.  I scuffed the heel of my black shoe against the gravel at my feet and tried to look both bored and friendly, praying the elation and terror I felt didn’t show on my face.  He came to a stop about three feet away from me, his left hand casually moving to his jacket pocket and making me believe for a moment that I'd somehow stumbled upon a photo-shoot for Calvin Klein.
"I don't believe we've met before.  Allow me to introduce myself.”  He had a cultured English-accent and I nearly slapped myself to keep from declaring my everlasting love.  He bowed deeply.  "I am Elliot.  Elliot Ambrose."
He extended his hand to me.  I reached forward to shake his hand, but he gently turned my hand and leaned down, pressing his lips against my skin.  He lifted his eyes to mine and I saw their dark color turn gold as if lit by an inner flame.  It had to be some trick of light. 
Breathe, Ascher.  Keep breathing! 
"I…I, um…I'm Ascher Rafferty and…”  I motioned over my shoulder.  "That's my sister Gemma.”  He regarded Gemma for a long moment and I felt a twinge of jealousy.
"I would be honored if you would allow me the pleasure of escorting you ladies into our club,” Elliot said.  "After all, it is your first time at The Crimson and we so rarely receive visits from those such as yourselves.”  I smiled, thinking he had just given me a compliment of some kind.  "Am I right to assume you're uninitiated?”  He asked.
"Uh, initiated?  Do you mean, like, am I in a sorority?”  He tilted his head to the side and laughed, the two dimples deepening.
"What I meant to ask is have you been practicing long?"
"Practicing what?”  Were we even having the same conversation?  The smooth surface of his forehead pinched into a frown.  The sound of Gemma's heels clicking made me turn, grateful for the distraction.
"Hey. What's up?”  Gemma smiled at Elliot who nodded his head and bowed before returning his attention to me.  Gemma and I looked at each other at the same time and had to bite our lips to keep from giggling.
"Miss Rafferty.  I have invited your sister to accompany me inside the club.  I would, of course, love to have you join us.”  Gemma and I exchanged another look.  He must have sensed our hesitation.
"You'd be given the, what is the phrase, VIP treatment for joining me." 
"We're actually celebrating, tonight.  Ascher's fifteenth birthday is this Sunday,” Gemma said.
"Then I would consider myself fortunate, to participate in the celebration of such an important milestone,” Elliot said. 
Wow .  I thought. Does everyone in England talk so grown up?  
After a brief moment of hesitation, Gemma raised her eyebrows and shrugged as if telling me it was my decision. 
Let me see.  Did I want to hang out with this hottie straight off of one of the covers of my grandmother's romance novels?  Hmm.  That was a hard one.
"Yeah.  Sure. Okay." It was with those eloquent words that we entered the club.
                                     
                                     
 
Chapter Four
Pinky Promise
 
 
Elliot rushed us past the waiting crowd and through security, excusing himself with a promise to return.  Gemma went to the bar to order herself lemonade and a Pepsi for me, so I could scope out a good place to dance.  I knew from the tight feeling in my face that I was grinning like an idiot.  Squelching an urge to break into an impromptu Snoopy dance, I rubbed my bare arms with my hands and looked around the club. 
The Crimson was the coolest place.  Its atmosphere felt charged with frenzied energy.  The strobe lights made the throng of dancers appear as though they were moving in slow motion with each burst of light catching them in still poses.
Some of the more adventurous girls danced on a platform set to the right of the dance floor, their dance moves drawing a lot of male attention.  I was disappointed to see that the majority of scary decorations were lining the walls of the private entrance and not the interior of the club.  I guess they thought it would be a waste to put decorations in a room that was dark.
Two red-curtained balconies towered on either side of me; jutting from the wall like crags of rock.  I thought I caught a glimpse of someone peering through the curtains hanging on the balcony to my left, but when I looked again I didn't see anything.  My excitement was making me imagine things.  Something icy cold pressed against my back and I jumped.  Gemma stood behind me, a smirk on her face.  "You're jumpy,” she teased handing me my drink.
"You're the one with the stealthy approach there, Whiskers,” I said.  Gemma rolled her eyes and slapped me playfully in the arm.
"Speaking of which; at least I'm not growing any.  Wait.  You don't think I'll start do you?”  Gemma asked.  Her green eyes grew wide and she patted her fingertips over her chin and mouth.
The bass of the music grew louder, its beats pulsating through my shoes.  Nodding to the beat, I sipped my Pepsi and pointed Gemma's attention towards one of the girls dancing on the platform.  She moved sinuously to the music, raking her hands through her chin-length hair, the color of cherry cough syrup. 
She had been up there for less than a minute when most of the other girls filed down the shallow stairs casting angry glances at the newcomer.  When one remaining girl continued to dance, Cherry Cough Syrup leaned forward, grabbing the other girl by the arm.  Whatever exchange went on caused the lone dancing trooper to haul her stiletto-footed self in the same direction as the others.
"That was pleasant,” I said.  Gemma lifted the lemon wedge from her lemonade and pressed it to her lips, sucking the remainder of her beverage through its pulp.
"A definite Midol-moment,” Gemma said.  I choked on the soda I was drinking and laughed.  "You know what I think we should do, Asch?” Gemma asked.  Maybe it was intuition or maybe I just knew my sister well, but before she could even continue her thought, I was shaking my head no.  There was no way I was going up there.
Cherry Cough Syrup reached into the press of clubbers below her and pulled someone onto the stage, pressing her body tightly against his.  It was Elliot, and I was so going up there.  Gemma took my soda from me and smiled.
"Go,” she said.  "I'll be right there.”  I squeezed her hand and turned towards the stage.  After taking several steps, it occurred to me that I had no idea what I was doing.  I had met Elliot less than an hour ago and I was acting jealous as if he had come to The Crimson as my date.  Not that I would mind going on a date with him, or a date at all for that matter.
Mere days away from turning fifteen and I was the only girl I knew who had never gone on a date.  My spontaneous burst of confidence now leaking away, I thought about how I had almost gone onstage and felt the heat rise to my face.  I felt Gemma at my back.
"Want me to beat her up?” Gemma asked.  I smiled knowing she was half-joking and half-serious.  Gemma poked me with the tip of her purple nail.
"You are going to go up there and show that Strawberry Shortcake dye-job what real dancing looks like,” she stage-whispered into my ear.  "She's not even dancing.  Look at her.  She's just rubbing all over him- guys don't like girls like that.”  I gave Gemma my "yeah, right" face.  "Okay, some guys like that sort of thing.  Creepy guys- guys I wouldn't let get within ten feet of you, but Elliot is not like that. Look."
I followed her gaze to the stage and watched as Elliot politely tried to disentangle himself from Cherry Cough Syrup's grasp.  "Ascher, I can tell he really likes you.  Just go with it.  Go up there and get him to dance.  He'll be so stoked, I promise,” Gemma said.
"Pinky promise?”  I asked.  We linked pinkies and she nodded.  "I swear, Gem, if this backfires, I'm going to…”  Gemma shoved me away before I could talk myself down from her pep talk.  I found myself trudging up the steps of the platform with my heart in my throat, my eyes on Elliot, and my nerve at the ready.
I was a few feet from the platform when someone grabbed me by the waist.  I pivoted on my boot heels and just managed to keep my balance.  A tall boy steadied me.  He tightened his grip on my waist and smiled.
"Better be more careful with those sprain-makers or you could hurt yourself, darlin'.  Lucky for you, the Fiske was here to catch you,” he said.  The Fiske?  His eyes skimmed from the top of my head to my shoes, lingering on my chest.  I pushed him away from me.
"I was fine until you grabbed me.  You should…”  I stopped talking when I noticed his gaze was still on my chest.  I flicked the back of my hand into his chest.  "Hey.  Person talking, here.”  He turned his focus back to me, eyes laughing at some private joke.  "You shouldn't grab someone like that.”  In one quick movement, he pulled me towards him knocking the wind out of me.
"Why not?”  He asked.  My adrenaline kicked in and so did I- my right heel slamming into his left foot.
"Be careful with those sprain-makers.  You could hurt yourself,” I said.  Pushing through the cluster of people who had gathered to gawk at our spectacle, I hurried to the place where I had left Gemma.  I did not see her, which was odd considering that fact that our height made it almost impossible to miss each other.
What if she had seen me fight with that boy and had started to shift?  Panic emboldened me and I stomped up the small staircase and onto the platform, hoping it would be easier to spot Gemma from there.
 I shaded my eyes with my hands, shielding them from the flicker of the lights.  Gemma waved at me from the bar.  The longhaired boy who was sitting on the next barstool peeked over his shoulder and tilted his head up in way of greeting.  Gemma said something to him and he laughed, his attention returning to me as if I was the topic of discussion. 
Was Gemma telling him why I'd come up here?  A wave of warmth rushed over me and I blushed.
"Ascher,” Elliot said.  "I was just about to ask you if you'd join me for a drink."
"Uh, sure.  As long as it's juice or pop,” I said.  Cherry Cough Syrup sauntered over, her hips swaying to the beat of the music.  She ran her fingernails over the fabric of his blazer, shooting me a superior smile.
"Aww, no alcohol?  How adorable!”  She said.  "Where do you think you are, sweetie? Sunnybrook Farm?”  The heat radiated to the top of my head, blurring my vision.  For a terrifying moment, I thought I was going to faint.  My vision cleared and I rubbed my temples.
"Just moved out, actually,” I said.  I met her eyes and my head began to throb.  What is wrong with me?  Elliot grasped my hand and led me towards the steep staircase. 
He glanced over his shoulder and I followed his gaze to Cherry Cough Syrup who was right behind us, brow knitted in a frown.
"What the hell do you think you’re doing, witch?”  She snatched at my arm, scratching a rhinestone off the heart shaped decal.
"What's your problem?”  I asked.  Cherry Cough Syrup's nostrils flared and she muttered an epitaph under her breath.
"My problem is you and your kind.”  She spat the last word at me, her face contorted in a look of pure hate.  "Look around.  This is not your scene, princess.  You don't belong here.”  A stocky bouncer in dark slacks and a black tee lifted himself onto the stage and started arguing with Cherry Cough Syrup in muted tones.  Elliot gently tugged on my arm and I followed him, still reeling from my strange encounter.  Gemma greeted us with a wave and I slid onto the barstool next to her that the long-haired boy had vacated.
"I'm afraid that you've met one of our more troublesome patrons, Emily,” Elliot said.  "She tends to be somewhat aggressive.  She is harmless, or has been until now.”  He smoothed his thumb over the heart decal, stopping where a red scratch was beginning to sting. “I assure you she'll be dealt with for her actions.”  Elliot cocked his head to the side as if listening to someone.  "My apologies, ladies.  Our accommodations should be nearing completion.”  Gemma lifted an eyebrow.
"Huh?”  She asked.  Elliot cleared his throat.
"Our table is being set up,” he said.  "I won't be but a moment.”  Elliot hurried through the thrashing bodies of dancers.
"You were gone for a long time,” Gemma said.  I opened my mouth to tell her about Emily and the boy who grabbed me, but I did not want to make her worry.
"Did something or someone distract you?”  Gemma asked, wiggling her eyebrows at me.  I rolled my eyes and smiled.  She was so goofy sometimes.
"Something like that,” I said.
                                               
                                               
 
Chapter Five
Something Wicked This Way Comes
 
 
We sat in a huge booth faced outward, giving us an open view of the club below through the opened red drapes.  Gemma reclined comfortably on the booth seat, its red leather matching her pants and making her look like a suspended sawed-in-half magician's assistant.
"Remember whatever it is you said to get us into the VIP section, Asch.  I could get used to this,” Gemma said.  She stretched her legs out beside her, enjoying the roominess of our big booth.
"Alright, the next time we go out, I'll mumble awkwardly to unknown hotties until you swoop in for the rescue,” I said.  Gemma rolled her eyes.
"Oh, please, Asch.  You act like you don't know how beautiful you are,” she said.  The truth is that I had always thought Gemma was the beautiful sister.  I was the funny one, yes.  The shy one, too, but I had never really considered myself beautiful.
"You look beautiful,” I said.  Gemma reached towards me, her hands curled inward.
"No.  You!”  She said in the little-girl voice we only used with each other.  She moved her hands to my sides and tickled me until my eyes teared up from laughing.
"Say it,” Gemma said.
"Oh, okay.  Okay!” Gemma relaxed her grip on me and I slipped away from her grasp, smiling.  "I don't look frighteningly hideous,” I said.  I felt the corners of my lips curl back as Gemma dove forward.
"I'll show you frighteningly hideous,” Gemma said.  She lunged forward, her hip grazing the corner of the table and knocking a white candle over.  It rolled towards the edge of the table and I reached to grab it before it fell.  Gemma mirrored my movements and we missed bumping heads by a fraction of an inch.
Gemma caught the candle by its glass base just as another hand gripped it.  The longhaired boy I recognized from the bar smiled down at us.  I could see him more clearly now.  He was older, nineteen or twenty.  His blue-gray eyes turned towards Gemma.
"Nice reflexes,” he said taking the glass jar and holding it like a bottle of iced tea.  I saw Gemma's cheeks flush and was surprised when she cast a shy smile his way.  A slight girl appeared to his right and Gemma's smile faltered a bit before returning with the forced curve of what I call her "polite smile" usually reserved for lame jokes.  As if sensing my discomfort, the girl turned her blue eyes to me, a smirk playing across her pale lips.
The expression on her face reminded me of a line from the play Macbeth, my accelerated-English class had read last semester: Something Wicked This Way Comes.  I thought.  I returned her smile.
She was a tiny wisp of a thing.  Her small form accentuated by the tailored gray suit she wore over a wine colored blouse.  Gemma and I were definitely not the only girls who were not old enough to be here.  This girl was fifteen at most. 
A long, heavy pause wafted over us, interrupted by a waitress who placed several drinks along the circumference of the polished cherry wood table.
"Savian, hi,” Gemma said.  "Who's your friend?”  Her question was innocent enough, but I could hear the flirty, hopeful lilt in her voice and it made me want to smack the both of them.  Savian slid beside Gemma and the girl sat down next to me.
"That's Cadence.  She works for me,” Savian said. 
Doing what?  Selling Girl Scout Cookies?
Gemma seemed happy with his explanation, her rigid posture replaced by a relaxed slouch. Savian put his arm around Gemma's shoulders and my heart jumped from a sudden surge of anger.  I felt a tight feeling enter my chest.  Something about him just did not seem right.  There was the fact that he was way too old to be flirting with Gemma, but it was more than that.  I lifted a glass of water to my lips and gulped it down.
"Thirsty?”  Savian asked.  I cast him and evil look and felt Gemma kick me under the table.
"This…”  Gemma said, "…is my baby sister Ascher."
"Hey, baby…”  Savian said.  "I own the Crimson.”  Still glowering, I reached forward to shake his hand, my manners taking precedence over my feelings. (Although, I did grip his hand harder than necessary.)
"You've quite a grip there,” Savian said.
And you have quite a talent for stating the obvious .
"Yep.” My eyes drifted over the faces of the people below.  There were noticeably fewer dancers crowding the floor.  It must be getting late.  I opened my mouth to tell Gemma we had better get going when I saw Elliot making his way up the staircase.
My heart beat against my rib cage as he jogged over to our table.  Cadence got out of the booth to let Elliot slide next to me and it occurred to me that I had not given her a fair chance.  Her eyes met mine and I was struck with the feeling that she knew what I was thinking.
Cadence turned to Savian who was twirling his fingers in Gemma's hair, his face close to hers. 
Where was a fly swatter when you need one?   Savian climbed out of the booth and held his hand out to Gemma who hopped up like a happy puppy.
“Savian," Cadence said.  Savian's jaw clenched.
"What is it?” 
"If you don't have any objections, I'd like to be dismissed for the evening," Cadence said.
"No.  I think you should stay,” Savian said, his eyes never leaving Gemma's.
"We'll be right back, Asch,” Gemma said.  Savian grabbed her hand and Gemma smiled and followed him towards the staircase.  Cadence shadowed them until I lost sight of all three.
Standing up, I leaned over the balcony to keep an eye on Gemma.  I did not like the idea of her being alone with Savian.  There was just something wrong about him.  A song with a slow rhythm vibrated through the speakers.
"May I have this dance?”  I startled, remembering Elliot.  His arm extended towards me and I took his hand.  He walked us to a dark corner of the balcony, his strong hands grasping my waist and pulling me close.
He draped my arms around his shoulders, the wool of his jacket tickling the insides of my wrists.  My heart was pounding so hard, I thought Elliot would feel it beating.
"You're shaking,” he whispered.  I met his eyes and looked away, embarrassed.
"I…I've never, um slow-danced before.” 
"It's easy.  Just follow me,” he said.  He counted steps and I stared at our feet, both excited that I was dancing with such a cute boy and humiliated that I did not know what I was doing.  After a while, I got used to the steps and could actually look away from our feet, but I was still too scared to look at Elliot.
Every time he caught my eye, I would blush and look away.  A new, faster song began and I felt his fingers on my chin.  He tilted my head up until my eyes met his.  "You've never been this close to a boy before, have you?”  He asked.  I cast my gaze downwards.
"No,” I said.  He must think I am such a child. 
"Look at me.”  My eyes returned to him just as he leaned forward to kiss me.  I closed my eyes and felt his lips move against mine- a soft whisper like butterfly wings.  He pushed his lips against mine, almost painfully and I pulled away.  He opened his eyes and looked disappointed.  "You should go,” he said, raking his fingers through his hair.
Elliot clasped my hand and pulled me after him, I yanked my arm free.
"Why?”  I asked.  He grabbed my wrist and wrenched me forward.  I tried to jerk my arm away, but he held it in an iron grip and rushed me down the stairs.  "Hey!”  I said.  Several faces turned to us as Elliot squeezed my wrist.  "Let go of me.”  Three college-age boys surrounded us.
"It looks like she doesn't want your company,” the first one said.
"She doesn't want yours either, Petrel,” Elliot said.  A crowd began to swarm around us.  Petrel moved forward and smiled.  He was wearing the same fake porcelain vampire fangs I had worn to Denise's Halloween party last year.
 My focus fixed on those around me and I thought I could see the reflections of the strobe lights in their eyes.  When the beat of the music changed a moment later, the lights stopped flashing, but their eyes remained iridescent.
They looked evil, like monsters straight out of a Wes Craven flick. 
Halloween's not until next month I thought. 
A scream tore through the club, ripping my stare away.  Elliot jerked away from me, his body pinned against the staircase railing by Petrel's friends. The club erupted into chaos and Petrel hooked his arm around my waist, steering us into a dark corner.  I tried to push him away from me, but he was too strong.  He ran his hands up and down my arms, his eyes filled with a strange yellow glow.
"Stop fighting,” he whispered.  His eyes locked on mine and my thoughts grew confused.  Why had I been so upset?  I looked into Petrel's dark eyes and my lips parted in a sigh.
Feeling his lips on my neck, I shivered.  I felt dazed like I had been awakened from a dream and part of me just wanted to drift away- to go back to sleep.  I closed my eyes and Petrel spun me against his chest.  I smiled, dreamily as I felt his breath on my neck.
He wrapped his arms around me and I felt his tongue dart against my neck.  What the hell?  My hands lifted to push him away but it felt like my arms were weighted with iron.
I screamed, but the sound was cut-off as a sharp pain stabbed into my neck.  I fought to open my eyes and saw Gemma standing about ten feet away.  Her eyes were glowing in the darkness, her face twisted in rage.
She growled loud enough that everyone around her turned to look.  She ran towards us, her pretty face already rippling into the features of a panther.  The crowd cleared a path, people running in every direction as Gemma neared us.
She launched herself at Petrel's back and clawed at him with half-formed paws.  Petrel let go of me and I staggered away, my hands pressing against my neck, which bled through my fingers and down the front of my body.  I collapsed onto the floor, the room spinning.
 Gemma lifted Petrel into the air and threw him across the room.  She slashed out at the crowd in warning and ran over to me, helping me sit up against her.  She shuddered and her body rippled.  Still growling, her body caved inward, her legs shortening.
There was the newly familiar sound of her bones cracking and her tendons and muscles popping as her limbs reconstructed.  Her shoes exploded and she fell forward on her half-formed paws, stepping closer to me.  A tail emerged from her pants and her ears elongated and moved to the top of her head.  Her clothing stretched, tearing into ragged pieces.
"Run Ascher,” Gemma growled my name and then her face shifted into a panther's and the transformation was complete.  She rubbed her sides against me and circled me, growling threats to all those around us.  Her movements grew slow and she lay down beside me, hissing a final threat to anyone foolish enough to come near. She lost consciousness. 
  Elliot was on his knees next to me.  He lifted me into his arms, cradling me like a baby.  I wanted to get away, but I was too weak from blood loss to move.
"You'll be okay,” Elliot said against my ear.  "They won't let your sister go now that they've seen what she can do, but I'll get you out of here.”  His words jarred me back to reality and I lifted my head against his shoulder.  He licked my neck and must have sensed my complete revulsion because he stopped.  "I needed to stop the bleeding,” he said.  I touched my neck, which was now clotting.
"Where's my sister?”  I asked.  Elliot adjusted me in his arms to let me see.  When I spotted Gemma, my heart clenched and I felt what little blood I had left slow in my veins.
                                     
                            
 
Chapter Six
Mean People Suck
 
 
Savian’s mouth pressed to her neck, his teeth tearing through the fur at her throat. 
Oh, my God.  You are vampires.  A vampire bit me!   I thought stupidly.  Of all the times I had fantasized that vampires could be real and wondered what meeting one would be like, I had never envisioned anything like this.  The romantic images blurred from my brain as Savian pulled away from Gemma and smiled with my sister's blood on his lips.
I fought against Elliot, but he would not let go of me.  Madly, I dug my nails down his cheeks, causing deep red scratches that dribbled blood down his face.  Within seconds, his skin closed.  He had healed himself.
"I'll kill you!”  I shouted at Savian.
"Calm down.  She's not dead,” Savian said.  I looked at my sister.  Her eyes fluttered and she made a small mewling noise.  "I knew she was a witch, I just needed a taste test to be certain.  A feline-shifting witch is rare, you know,” he said.  I frowned at him.  "Well, I guess you didn't.”  He wiped my sister's blood on his sleeve.  "You're just as clueless as can be, aren't you?”  He took a sip from a dark wine glass, making an ahhhh noise when he was done.
 “My God, but you look like her.  No wonder Elliot is so taken with you,” Savian said.  “I will admit that I did not believe Elliot when he said there were two teenage witches outside the club.  I mean, witches openly walking into our territory.  That is just incredibly stupid.  Even witches are not that dense.  Nevertheless, there you were, waiting to come inside like the silly humans.  Not a good idea, Ascher.”  He shook his head.  I swallowed and struggled to speak.
"Look, I don't know what's going on, but we're not witches, okay?  We just wanted to go out dancing.  We have nothing to do with any of this,” I said.
"He knows.  He just doesn't care,” a girl's voice said.  Cadence stood behind us, a haunted look filling her eyes and making her youthful face look much older.  An object hurdled towards us and Cade snatched it, inches away from her face.  It was a silver-handled knife.
"I've had enough!”  Savian spat, his face pouting like a spoiled child in the midst of a tantrum.  "After all I've done for you, you're going to try and intervene?  You have no authority here, Cadence.  The witches attacked a vampire in my territory and will be dealt with as I see fit.”  Cadence flinched as if struck and blocked Savian from coming closer to Elliot and me.
"You can't punish them for defending themselves,” Elliot said.  Savian snarled.
"I'll deal with you later, servant,” Savian said.
"On behalf of the Triune, in accordance with the treatise of Coventry , I'm placing Ascher under the protection of the Rudrian witches,” Cadence said.  I shook my head in confusion, feeling like I was listening to a discussion in a foreign language.
 Savian rushed forward, but stopped in mid-motion as Cadence held up her right hand.  She moved her index finger in the air and the room filled with abrupt silence and stillness. 
"I've just placed a power-barrier on the room, but we have to hurry,” Cadence said.  I nodded, still not understanding her words.  "I can't do anything for your sister. They know she's a warlock and the Triune does not protect users of the Dark Magicks."
"She's not a warlock or a witch.  We…”  Cadence held her hand up and I shut my mouth.
"I know you don't understand what's happening, but you must listen to me.  Vampires exist, as do werewolves, witches and warlocks, which is what you and your sister are."
"He said she was a witch, that we were witches,” I said.
"It's all the same to him,” Cadence said.  "We have to hurry.”  I felt my body go numb.  Cadence stood across from Elliot, a trail of pink-tinged tears falling from her cheeks.
"I'm not leaving without my sister,” I said.  I twisted in Elliot's arms and Cadence flicked her fingers at me in a shooing gesture, knocking me back against Elliot.  I felt small, helpless, and pissed.
 "I'll stall Savian and the others, Cade. You take her somewhere safe,” Elliot said.  He handed me to Cadence and I had a lucid moment where I felt surprised that someone smaller than me was holding me as if I weighed nothing at all.  Cadence whispered strange words that I could not quite make out.  My vision darkened and my veins felt like they were on fire, a searing pain spreading throughout my body until I thought I would pass out from the pain.  I screamed, the shrill shrieking sound of my voice accompanying me as I drifted into a tunnel of darkness.
                                     
                            
 
Chapter Seven
A Demon or Something
 
 
I blinked my eyes open and frowned.  The flickering of lights surrounded me.  I felt sleepy and warm, a heavy layering of blankets weighing comfortably over me. 
Did I fall asleep at Denise's house? No, this did not look like her room.  Then, where…?
I sat up so quickly, the blood rushing away from my head made my temples throb.  Kicking away the burden of blankets, I surveyed my surroundings with the aid of the few candles resting on a small storage chest.  I was in a large, ornate four-poster bed in a room so tiny, that I could see I was alone with one sweep of my eyes.
"You shouldn't do that,” a soft voice scolded.  The glow from candelabra blinded me for a moment as I struggled to see past its suddenly ignited flames.
"What the…who's there?”  I asked.  A face emerged from the darkness next to the bed and I recognized Elliot.  Memories flooded back in a cruel wave that left me feeling cold.  "Where's Gemma?”  I said.  "I swear, if anything happened to her…”  Elliot held up his hand to silence me.
"There's no time for that,” he said.  "They're coming for you- we don't have much time.”  Elliot rushed forward and I scrambled backwards over the side of the bed.  In my hurry to get away, I tangled my legs in the bedding and fell backwards onto the hardwood floor.  Before I could right myself, Elliot was next to me, pulling me to my feet.  I tripped over the blankets and he caught me easily.
"Get off me!” Elliot tightened his hands around my arms and held me to his chest.  Behind him, other candelabra exploded into light.  He reached forward, his fingertips pulling my chin upwards until my face was so close to his I could feel the warm rush of his breath.
"I need to give you something,” he whispered, lips moving inches over my own.
He grabbed my left hand and slipped something cold over my finger.  I lifted my hand and stared at a green stone ring.  "You'll be safe enough when they come for you, but if something should happen, if you need help, just use the stone to summon me."
"What do you mean ‘summon you’?  What are you a demon or something?  I asked.  Elliot pressed his lips into my own and my words and thoughts were both lost to the sensation of his lips against mine.  His kisses were gentle and chaste at first, but some inner fire kindled between us and they became fast and fervent as if he was feeding some raw need that had been long starved.  Finally, he pushed away from me, body shaking as though he were struggling to tear himself away.
"Or something…” he said, his voice breathy and deep.  I had never been kissed before and the moment had had a strange, dream-like quality that frightened me.  He twisted his finger around a lock of my hair, curling it with his fingers.
The odor of burnt hair filled my nostrils and Elliot yanked his hand back, his fingers clutching a lock of my hair.  His eyes studied me with a confused expression.  The candlelight began to fade and I felt myself pulled, mind, and body, by a strong and suffocating presence.  I could not breathe.
"I'm…I'm dying!”  I said.  Elliot kissed me lightly on the forehead and released me on to the bed.
"No,” he said.  "You're waking up."
                                                                                     
 
 
PART TWO
 
 
 
BEWITCHED
         
 
 
 
Chapter Eight
Not Enough Garlic
 
 
I awoke to the sound of music.  No, not the "hills are alive" kind; a woman was singing softly beside me.  Outside, the birds were chattering in melodious little chirps.  Turning my head to the side, I saw the shawl-draped figure of an elderly woman rocking back-and-forth in an old rocking chair.
"Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral,
Too-ra-loo-ra-li,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral,
Hush now, don't you cry.” 
It was a lullaby my Grandma used to sing.  The old woman stopped singing and looked up from the chore with which she was busying her hands.
"Brigit be praised!  You're awake, my child," the old woman said.
Who was this woman? And what was she doing in my room?
"I'm Rose Bruer.  You’re at my family's home, recuperating," the old woman said.  She had a slight-Irish accent, which struck me as funny for some reason.  I laughed, covering my mouth with my hands so I would not offend her.
A strange silver ring was on my left hand, an odd green stone set in the middle.  It looked vaguely familiar, but I could not remember where I had got it.  My mind felt fuzzy, my thoughts clouded.  I was spacing out big-time.
I knew there was something important I was forgetting, but trying to remember was like searching for a light in a dark room.  The memory was just out of my grasp.
Looking around, I realized I was in a tiny room with a small table set across from the four-poster bed where I lay.  I had the feeling I'd been here previously.
How did I get here?   No sooner had the question entered my head that Rose was answering me.
"Cadence brought you to us, lass."
This was weird, the way she was talking to me- it was as if she could…
"…read your mind," Rose said.  I flinched as if I'd been struck and Rose clucked her tongue in disapproval.  "I'm a witch, child.  I can do many-a-strange and wonderful thing.  Dear, Cadence told me you do not know of our gifts, of your gifts.  I still can't imagine what your parents might've been thinking, hiding your heritage from you as they did."
"A witch?  I don't, I don't understand," I said.  Rose stood and came to stand beside the bed.  I could see now that she was grinding something with a mortar and pestle.
"I'm afraid, in her hurry to wake you, my granddaughter may have used too much coriander and not enough garlic.  Without enough garlic, it can be quite difficult to undo a vampire's hypnosis.  That, my dear, is why you're having such a beast of a time remembering."
Okay.  Now I was getting a little freaked-out .
"Look, I'm not sure exactly what's going on here, but I'm not a witch and if I'd met a vampire, I'm pretty sure I'd know…”  I was interrupted by a knock at the door.
"May I come in, Gran?”  A red-haired girl popped her head in the door, her eyes widening when she saw me.  "I'm so glad you're awake!” She said.  "Sorry about the potion mix-up, I was totally spacing.  This whole thing must be really freaking you out, huh?  You know, finding out about magic and all."
Was everyone in this house crazy?  Whatever their game was, I was tired of playing.
                            
 
 
Chapter Nine
Witching Hour Is Over, Lady
 
 
"Okay, that's enough.  I'm a witch, you’re a witch, and everyone is a witch.  Ha Ha.  It's a really good joke…”  The redhead narrowed her eyes at me.
"It's not a joke," she said.
"Look, I like Dracula and Anne Rice just as much as the next girl, but this has really gone too far.  So, if you don't mind, I'm gonna get up and get the hell out of Salem 's Lot or wherever this is," I said.
"I told you, this isn't a joke!  Being a witch is nothing to laugh at," the redhead said.
"Now, Cyd.  Let's not upset the poor dear.  This must be quite alarming for her," Rose said.  Cyd crossed her arms over her chest and pouted.
"Whatever.  I just came in to tell you that Anise got back from Mrs. Birch's with the stuff you needed for the spell, but she could only find two of the tiger's eye."
"Tiger's Eye?  Oh, my God, I'm going to be sick."
What was wrong with these people?  Who could hurt a poor little tiger …?
"Oh, no, bless your heart.  Tiger's Eye is a gemstone, my dear.  Witches never harm any of Earth's creatures.  Here, that will be your first lesson in the ways of the witch. 'An it harm none, do what thou wilt.’  This means we're free to do as we please with our magick as long as we never use it against another," Rose said.
 I tore the quilt away from my body and got up to leave, pointing a finger to warn the old woman to stay away.
"That's it, Witching Hour is over, lady," I wanted to say more, but I was hit in the face with a handful of thick dust that smelled a lot like…"Garlic?”  I choked, inhaling the pungent aroma.
My body started to tremble as the events from the previous night flashed through my mind.  I saw Gemma and I arriving at the Crimson; dancing with Elliot; meeting that strange girl, Cadence, and then, the image of Savian's mouth pressed against Gemma's neck.  Memories clawed through my consciousness and I collapsed to the floor, fighting to breathe as sobs raked my body.
 I was vaguely aware that Cyd left the bedroom.  Rose wrapped a worn purple shawl around me, the heat from her body still warming the wool.  She held me against her small frame, whispering comforting words to calm me, but it was no use.  All I could hear were Gemma's screams and all I could see was the terror painted in her eyes.
                                     
 
                            
Chapter Ten
Basic Magic 101
 
 
After drinking several cups of steaming herbal tea, I began to feel better or at least calmer.  I felt numb and empty as I thought of Gemma.  Where was she right now?  Was she hurt?  Scared?
Thinking back on the countless times in my childhood when I'd wished she'd leave forever, I felt guilty, almost like I was to blame for what had happened.  Tugging on the elastic lace sleeve of the flannel nightgown I wore, I fell back against the pillow.
"You have a very powerful aura," a voice said.  I glanced at a pretty girl with strawberry colored hair who'd just entered the bedroom.  She resembled the redhead, Cyd who'd high-tailed it out of the room right before I'd lost it completely.  I wondered if they were related.  "I'm Anise Curry.  You've met my grandma Rose and my cousin, Cyd."
"Uh, huh," I said.  I didn't feel much like talking.  Anise shifted her feet, the upper part of her body leaning on the doorframe as though afraid to enter without my permission.
"You can come in.  I mean, it's your house," I said.  Anise took a few tentative steps into the room before crossing to the bed to sit down beside me.
"Actually, it's my Aunt Jacinth’s and Cyd's.  I used to live with my Grandma at her house, but she's been out-of-sorts lately so we moved in here.  That way, someone can always be around to help Gran out.  You know, when I'm at school and stuff."
"Where are your parents?”  I asked.  Anise looked down at her socked feet and chewed her lip.
"They died when I was nine," she said.
"I'm sorry.”  Anise took a deep breath and fixed me with an intense look.
"Everything's part of a cycle.  New life comes forth from death just as every end is the first step to a new beginning,” Anise said.
Thank you, Oprah .
  "I want you to know that I have some powerful magic at my disposal and I'm going to do everything in my power to get your sister back, but I'm going to need your help."
"I'll do anything you want," I said.  Anise narrowed her amethyst-colored eyes at me much like a scientist looks at an interesting new specimen.
"There's something you're not saying," Anise said.  I swallowed.
"It's just that I don't know why any of this is happening.  My sister and I, we're not witches.  I mean, I don't even believe in witches, not really.  I know about Wicca and stuff like that, but I didn't know there were witches with supernatural powers, like, straight out of a TV show, you know?"
"This is overwhelming for you.”
No shit, Sabrina.
Unable to think of a more tasteful response I nodded my head in reply.  Anise draped her arm around me and my body shuddered with one of those hyperventilating-hiccups you get after you've cried very hard.  She muttered something under her breath and the door to the room clicked shut.  I jumped at the noise.
"Oh, duh.  Sorry," Anise said.  "I need to ask you some important questions and I didn't want to risk Cyd overhearing."
"Why shouldn't she?”  I asked.  Anise gave me a pitying look like I'd just said something incredibly stupid.  I decided to change the subject.  "What do you need to know?”  I asked.  Anise smoothed her palms over the fabric of her denim hip-huggers and folded her hands in her lap.
"When did you first learn you were a witch?”  Anise asked.
"Last night.  I mean, that's what the vampires called us, anyway."
"Okay, so you've never used magic before, your mom, your grandma never mentioned anything about your being a witch," she said.
"No," I said, feeling uneasy.
"You're positive?”  Anise said.  I rolled my eyes.  My patience was going fast.
"Um, I'm pretty sure I'd remember a conversation like that," I said.  We sat for a moment, staring at each other. 
"How'd you find out about The Crimson?" It was her turn to change the subject.
"My best friend Denise's boyfriend told us about it," I said.
"What's his name?"
"Dax.  Dax Harris," I said.
"Do you know where he lives?"
"Why?”  I asked.
"Because The Crimson is ensorcelled with spells to keep its location hidden.  The only way you'd even know it was there is if you're a vampire or a warlock.  Either way, he's dangerous," Anise said.  "Vampires are dangerous enough, but if we're dealing with warlocks, then the stakes have risen.”  I smiled despite my dark mood at the pun Anise didn't even realize she'd made.  "So, this, Dax guy brought you to The Crimson…"
"No," I interrupted.  "He didn't bring us.  We went ourselves."
"Uh, no…that would mean you were a…”  Anise stopped talking and I could see something dark pass behind her eyes.
Uh-oh.   The vampire, Cadence, had said I was a warlock and Anise didn't seem to think much of warlock-kind.  If she was going to help me get Gemma back, I had to think fast.
"He, um, didn't, like, drive us there or anything.  We followed in my sister's car, so he didn't, technically, bring us," I lied.  Anise chewed her nails and nodded as if weighing the validity of my story.  Finally, she sat up and walked towards the door.
"My grandma's setting up for lunch.  We can talk about this more with her.  I'll bring you some clothes to wear," Anise said.  I was still rocking the flannel-grandma look.  "And, Ascher, I wouldn't mention how you found the club to anyone, especially my Aunt and Cyd."
Did she know I was lying?
"You can't follow a vampire or warlock to The Crimson," Anise said.  "The veil-spells won't let you.  It's basic Magic 101 stuff.  You're lies revealed the truth to me, even if you didn't.  You're a warlock."
                                     
 
 
 
Chapter Eleven
Binding Spell
 
 
I opened my mouth to apologize and my jaw snapped shut, my teeth clicking together painfully.
"It's a binding spell.  Even though you aren't practicing magic, you're still a warlock, which means I can't trust you.  I just wanted to show you some of what I'll do to you if I think, even for a second, that you're working with them,” Anise said.
She left the room, her binding spell still suspending me in an invisible iron grip and returned a few minutes later with a stack of clothes.
"Come down after you've finished dressing.”  She must've done something to end the spell because I was able to open my mouth, which closed again, only this time, I was the one who shut it.  I had nothing to say to Anise; at least, nothing she'd like to hear.  Anise shut the door with more force than necessary and I sank onto the bed. 
If I'm supposed to be a magical warlock, then why can't I do anything, well, magical?  I found myself wondering.  Squeezing my eyes shut, I willed myself to change into a panther.  I know I'd never been able to do it before, but neither had Gemma until a few weeks ago.
"I have to get to Gemma.”
She'd been hurt badly the last time I'd seen her, but if vampires really did sleep during the day, then maybe she'd have a chance to get away.  I pulled on a pair of black corduroys that fit too tight and were the low-rise kind that always made me nervous when I wore them because I was always one slouch from flashing butt-cleavage like a plumber.
 I grabbed a pair of red jogging pants with the word "Hottie" stitched onto the seat and a gray long-sleeve shirt.  After dressing myself, I hauled it to the door, anxious to get more answers from the witch-bitch.  I hurried into the hall.
The walls on either side of me were plain white and the slap of my feet on the hardwood floors sounded loud to my ears.  The smell of onion, tomato, and garlic filled my nostrils and my stomach growled like an angry dog.  A staircase led down to a family room, comfortably crowded with candles and pillows.
Strange knick-knacks filled the space of every flat surface.  Two identical worn sofas faced each other, an oriental rug separating them.  The hardwood floor was spotted with the shapes of three sleeping cats, all warming themselves next to the flickering flames of the fire.
Well, if they have cats they can't be all bad
A rocking chair placed to the right side of the fireplace hid a cat-tree, which held two more cats.  One, a black long-hair swatted at the tail of a very moody tortoiseshell whose growling grumbles could be heard even over the gurgling of my stomach. 
"The pissy one's Galway , my Nana's.”  I jumped at the voice and looked behind me.  Cyd Bergamot, Anise's cousin trailed me by a few feet.  Galway 's ears flattened at the insult.  "I see Anise scored some of my sweats for you- they fit okay.  You like spaghetti?  Mom made it for lunch.  Man, you're tall!”  I tried to follow Cyd's unconnected attempt at conversation, but managed only a nod of the head.
Cyd skipped in front of me, in toe-socked feet.  I followed her into a large kitchen, which looked equal parts Betty Crocker and Mr. Science.  A large counter, taking up much of the space in the middle, was crammed with multiple spice racks and a bunch of strange scientific equipment.  I thought this was a little strange, but, being that I was about to discuss my feline-shifting sister with a family of witches, my thoughts didn't linger on the kitchen's weirdness.
We walked through a small opening, leading from the kitchen to a large dining room.  Anise, who I'd newly nicknamed witch-bitch, and Nana Bruer sat at the heads of the table.  Cyd joined a pinched-face woman in her fifties on the side of the table closest to the entryway. 
One empty chair was placed in front of a big, beautiful bay window framed in stained glass.  The clear glass provided the view of a heavily wooded area.  This meant their house was secluded, which didn't do much to calm my fears.  Feeling much like a guilty student in the principal's office, I slunk over to the chair and sat.
The pinched-face woman, also known as Cyd's mother, Jacinth insisted on eating lunch first and "talking shop" afterwards.  When we were through eating, Jacinth turned her attention to me, her lips pursed.
"Well, my mother tells me she's been nursing you back to health after your battle with the vampires.  Why don't you tell me what happened last night that forced Cadence to bring you to us?” Jacinth said
"I, um.  I'm not sure exactly why all this happened.  See, my sister Gemma and I just wanted to go dancing…”  I recounted the previous night's events for my hosts.  When I'd finished, Jacinth sucked her teeth and frowned.
"I find it odd that Savian Radbourne would react in such a violent manner,” Jacinth said.
"Uh, he is a vampire, mother,” Cyd said.  I smiled at her smart remark.
"Yes, but why would he attack in a public place?  You'd think the Master Vampire of Chicago would be more discreet,” Jacinth said.
"Master Vampire?”  I asked.
"He's, sort of, the Merlin of…” 
"She's human, mother.  How is she supposed to know who Merlin is?”  Cyd said.
"I know who he is.  He, uh, pulled a sword out of a stone.”  I wished I'd paid closer attention in my mythology course.
"Savian Radbourne is, like, the Godfather of vamps in Chicago ,” Cyd said. 
That I understood.
"He attacked in public because The Crimson is an asylum for vampires, it's like Equinox.” 
"What's Equinox?”  I asked.
"It's a club owned by the Valerian family- they’re warlocks.  A safe-haven for those who use dark-magic.  They can practice magic freely there without worrying about the human authorities,” Anise said.
"So, vampires can hunt without fear of being caught at The Crimson,” Cyd said.
"That's why his vampires attacked you and your sister, because they knew no one would try and stop them,” Jacinth said.
"Did Cadence say anything to you; give you any reason as to why Savian behaved as he did?  Did she say why she was helping you?” Nana Bruer asked.
"She said that Savian knew that my sister was…" I remembered Anise's warning to keep mum about the warlock stuff and swallowed.  "…that we were witches.  And when she argued with the vampire, she said something about a treaty of covens.”
"The Treatise of Coventry,” Nana Bruer said.  "It's an agreement we witches signed with the warlocks long ago.  I haven't heard of anyone using the Treatise to protect prisoners of war for over two-hundred years."
"Prisoners of war?” 
"Yes.  There have been centuries of feuding within the magical community.  This ended with both witches and warlocks being taken captive by the other side,” Nana Bruer said.  "Your sister, Gemma is the most recent victim, but the Treatise allows for an exchange to be made to ensure the safety of the captive."
"Well, alright.  I'll give them whatever they want,” I said.  "We just need to find them, I'll…” 
"We already have their proposal,” Jacinth said.  I wondered how they'd communicated with the vampires, but my thoughts were focused on Gemma's rescue.
"And?”  I asked.
"And they'll return Gemma if we agree to turn you over,” Jacinth said.
"I still think it's weird that Radbourne's so gung-ho about the two of you. I mean, no offense, but I haven't seen you use any powers and your aura looks like a regular human's,” Cyd said.  I felt insulted and I wasn't even sure why. 
Who cares what she thinks- my sister can shift into a panther! 
Nana Bruer suddenly rose from the table, knocking over her glass of water.
"One at the threshold.  Four on the grounds,” she said.  Cyd and Anise stood and began to move their hands and fingers in what oddly resembled sign language.  Jacinth ran from the room and I could hear the clatter of metal and an expletive being muttered.
Nana Bruer motioned for me to come to her, but I couldn't move.  It didn't feel like another binding spell- it felt strange, calming.  Jacinth ran back into the room, her arms full of small jars and vials.  She dropped them onto the table and handed me a tiny bottle filled with lapis blue liquid.
"What's happening?!”  I asked.
"Warlocks.  Smash the bottle against any who come at you,” Jacinth said.  Nana Bruer scuffled over in her house slippers and put a small arm around my waist as if protecting me.
"They're going to make their move,” Cyd said.  Anise stopped moving her hands and crouched to the floor, followed by Cyd and her mother.  Cyd and Anise were both panting as though they'd just been in a race.  Nana Bruer tightened her arm around me and I waited, unable to breath, for the attack.
                                               
                                     
 
Chapter Twelve
An' It Harm None, Do What Thou Wilt
 
 
The doorbell rang and we all jumped.  When no one moved to answer the door, the chiming doorbell sounded two more times and was followed by a loud knock.
"Why won't they attack?  What are they waiting for?”  Cyd asked.
"It's a trick.  They want us to come to the door.  They've set up an ambush or a trap of some kind,” Jacinth said.  Anise drew several circles in the air with her left hand.
"I don't think so, Aunt Jacinth. There is only one at the door.  The others are at least fifty feet away,” Anise said.
"You're sensing spells are still weak, Anise,” Jacinth said.
"The child is right, Jacinth.  There is only one at the door.  Perhaps they haven't come to fight,” Nana Bruer said.  She made a brushing away gesture with her hands and I could swear I saw a fine purple shimmer pass through the air and settle around Anise.  Anise locked eyes with me and I saw that their color had changed from light violet to a bright purple.  She moved towards the front door.
"Aww!  I never get the power-boost.  When will I get to have one?”  Cyd whined.  She all but skipped over to me, tugging on my hand.  "It's awesome.  If the warlock tries to hurt Anise, she can crush him like a fly!”
Nana Bruer cleared her throat before sinking into her chair at the head of the table.  She looked ghostly pale like something fragile spun of glass.  Cyd opened her mouth to say more.
"Neesey, kick his…"
"Chalcedony Bergamot!”  Jacinth said.  Cyd flinched and turned a sheepish gaze towards her mother.
"I know, I know.  ‘An' it harm none.  Do what thou wilt,’” Cyd said.  She rolled her eyes at me and I felt my lip lift in a smirk.  Jacinth crossed the room to kneel in front of her mother and began dabbing an amber colored powder around her mother's forehead and temples.  Cyd, or Chalcedony as I guess she was called, tugged at my arm like an impatient child.  I followed her into the kitchen where a number of vials had been left in broken pieces on the floor.
"Mom sort of freaks when anyone but witches or humans are around.  She gets clumsy. C'mon, Ascher.  You've got to see this!"
We ran into a long hall where I glimpsed a small living room to my left.  I couldn't see much else because Cyd was propelling us forward in her hurry to reach her cousin.  Anise stood close to the front door.  She drew a squiggly-shape in the air and the door's edges glowed for a moment before Anise twisted the manual knocks out of place.
"Keep her close, Cyd,” Anise said.  I felt almost warm at Anise's concern for me when she opened her mouth again.  "She might try to run.” I frowned and Cyd elbowed me making a scrunched-up face.
Anise eased the door open.  Her slender form blocked our view of the warlock, but I could just make out what was being said.
"Anise!  You're looking well,” a male voice said.
"Save it, Whimbrel.  I know why you're here and you can forget it.  You can't talk to her,” Anise said.  A shadow swept over the patio and the face of a college-age boy with spiky-blonde hair appeared over Anise's right shoulder.  He smiled broadly.
"Maybe, but I can see her and your pretty little cousin.  Chalcie, we miss you at Equinox.  When are you going to party again?” Rigel asked.  I felt Cyd stiffen beside me and her cheeks grew bright pink.
"Like any member of my family would slum it at that over-spelled warlock refuge.” 
"Let's not argue, Miss Curry.  I'm here on official business.  It seems a warlock named Ascher Rafferty was taken into custody under the Treatise of Coventry.  We've come to retrieve her.” 
"She's a witch, not a warlock,” Cyd said.  Anise whispered something to Rigel who nodded, and shut the front door.  Anise stared at Cyd and something passed between them in the silence.  Apparently, they shared their grandmother's telepathic gift.  Cyd shook her head.  "No, no!  I don't care what you say she is.  She hasn't done anything bad!”  Anise continued to stare at her cousin.  "Fine, I will tell Nana!”  Cyd squeezed my hand and ran from the hallway.
"What is it?”  I asked.  Anise swallowed.  "I've got to let them take you, Ascher."
"Take me- where?  Why?” 
"I don't think you're in danger.  At least, not from Rigel.  He's a magical-lackey for Dunlin Valerian and nobody would even dare hurting you if you're under the Valerian's protection.  Anyway, you're a warlock so we're not exactly going to fight to keep you here.  Warlock blood runs wicked whether you know it or not.  You need to leave.” 
`Before I could reply, Anise pulled me towards her and began herding me towards the door.  I felt a small shock hit my hand and let out a startled cry as the green ring Elliot had given me slipped off my finger and levitated into the air.  Anise closed her fist around it and waved her fingers at the door, which banged open.
She flicked her fingers at me, sending me flying backwards and into Rigel.  The door slammed shut in my face.  Reaching for words to describe exactly how I felt at that moment, I said the only thing that came to mind.
"That bitch!"
                                     
                                     
 
PART THREE
 
SPELLED
                            
 
 
 
                  
 
Chapter Thirteen
Linda Blair Impersonation
 
 
Rigel laughed, the rumbling sound of his voice vibrating against my right side, which he held against his chest.
"Already, I like you,” he said.  I pushed away from him, which seemed to please him because his laughed again.  His eyes scanned over my body, lingering on my backside.  I folded my arms over my chest and turned so I was facing him.
"Hottie?”  Rigel said.  My face flushed before I remembered the word stitched on the back of my borrowed pants.  He turned and waved a hand at a limousine that parked far from the house.  Its lights flashed and then it started rolling towards us.
I noticed the small blue vial Jacinth had given me lying on the front porch, just behind Rigel.  That had its possibilities.
"Looks like you need a pair,” Rigel said.  I balked and lunged forward, snatching up the vial.  I uncorked it and readied my aim when Rigel put his hands out in surrender.  Again, he laughed.  "Of shoes,” Rigel said.  "I meant you need shoes."
He snapped his fingers and a pair of Velcro running sandals covered my feet.  I let out a shriek and jumped back, but the shoes remained.  Rigel was now holding his sides as though in pain from laughing.
"I'm…I'm sorry I scared you,” he gasped, between fits of laughter.  "I couldn't resist.  Come on, the car is waiting.”  Rigel cupped his hand around my right elbow, which I swung backwards and into his chest, spilling the liquid in the vial over his chest.
"I'm not just going to leave with you.  I don't know anything about you.  And, I may be new at this, this supernatural stuff, but I'm not some clueless little girl you can order around!”  I said.  "Why aren't you, screaming or melting or something?”  I asked.
"Two reasons.  One, I'm not the Wicked Witch of the West or a witch at all, for that matter.  And two, you doused me with witch-potion.  It's harmless unless used to defend yourself.  And, in case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly attacking.” 
My face grew hot and my temples began to throb.  The stress from the past day all seemed to crash into me like a tidal wave so that even the air around me felt heavy.  I couldn't breathe.  Rigel was saying something, but his words muffled.  My vision went dark and a heady, sick feeling swirled around me.
No, not again.  I will not faint.  I won't.
My ears popped like they do after I've been swimming all day.  I blinked several times and my vision returned to normal.
A limousine pulled to a stop a few feet from us and a girl my age stepped out, followed by a little girl and a man with several pink scars running across his face.
"Everything cool?”  The older girl asked.  Rigel patted me on the back.
"Yeah.  She just had a power-crash.  She can't control it, yet,” Rigel said.  The older girl regarded me with curiosity and went back inside the limo.  The scarred man lumbered towards us, his eyes covered with Matrix-style sunglasses.
"It's the coolest in there!”  I looked down at the tiny blonde girl who'd just spoken.  She looked like she couldn't be older than five.  Was she a warlock, too?  Rigel took his jacket-off and draped it over my shoulders.
"You'll learn to control your powers, it just takes practice,” Rigel said.  Nodding as if he were talking about something as mundane as algebra, I wrapped my arms around myself and let my fingertips slide over the buttery material of his leather coat. "We're planning on rescuing Gemma tonight,” Rigel said.  That caught my attention.
I gazed into the dark blue of his eyes and tried to figure out if he was telling the truth.  After an uneasy minute of staring at him, and still not sure if he was telling the truth, I shrugged and crawled into the limo. Rigel scooted in next to me.  The scarred man slammed the door shut and, a minute later, the car started up and lurched forward.  Rigel grabbed my arm to keep me from falling off the seat when the driver made a sudden turn and I thanked him by jabbing him with my elbow again.  He put his hands up in a gesture of surrender.
"Sorry.  I'm a little on edge,” I said.
"I'd be, too.”
"Yeah.  Just a little,” the older girl said.
"This is Fawne,” Rigel said indicating the girl who'd just spoken.  "The little one's Lily."
"I'm not little!”  Lily said.  She stuck her tongue out at Rigel and kicked the backs of her pink patent-leather shoes against the seat
"Hey,” Fawne said by way of greeting.  Fawne was pretty, with short, curly hair, coffee-colored skin, and startling green eyes.
"Hey.” 
"Is for horses!” Lily said.  She did an imitation of a horse, tossing her blonde pigtails back.  I smiled at her and her little faced scrunched up in a frown.  "How come you were at the witches' house?  Did they put a spell on you to get you to come?”  She asked.
"Uh, no…”
"'Cause that's the only way they'd get me to come,” Lily said, her little face fixed in a serious expression.
"Lily,” Rigel said.  His voice held a warning tone.  Lily rolled her eyes and threw herself backwards onto the seat.
"Where are we going?” 
"Where would you like to go?” Rigel asked.  I balked at his question.
"You said we were going to get Gemma.” 
"Yes, but not until later.  It'll be safer to rescue her at night."
"Don't vampires sleep during the day?"
"Yes, which means they'll have her…”  Rigel's voice trailed-off.
"They'll have her…” 
"Secured.” 
"What do you mean?”  I asked.
"I'd rather not get into specifics.  It's just safer to wait until dark.” 
"Can't we just…"
"Damn it.  I won't argue about this!  I know what we're doing, so just do as I say."
"Rude!”  Lily yelled.  My sentiments, exactly I thought.
"Well, I'd rather you did get into specifics.  We're talking about my sister here and I want to know what's happening.” 
"No, no you don't."
"Yes, I do.  I have the right to know what's happening to my sister!”  I said.
"You want to know what's happening?”  Rigel asked.  I nodded, but the tone of his voice made me unsure. "They'll have kept her close which means she'll be with them all day.  The location of a vampire's crypt is known only to himself.” 
"You're not saying she's in a…a…” 
"A coffin, yes.  Your sister's in a coffin."
"Awake?  Is she awake?”  I asked.
"Not at first, but she should wake up a few hours after sunrise.  When the sun comes up, vampires pretty much die.  Their hypnotic powers over her would lessen,”  Rigel said.
"So, you're telling me my sister will wake up, in the dark, in a coffin next to a…dead body?”  A wave of nausea hit me and I gagged.
"Pull over!”  Rigel ordered.  The car slowed and he opened the door.  I made it outside just as I began to vomit.  I threw up everything I'd eaten and still my stomach lurched upwards.  I felt someone gather my hair and glimpsed over my shoulder at Fawne who made small circles on my back with the palm of her hand.  She leaned forward and handed me a Kleenex to wipe up with, but when I met her eyes, I saw that they were those of an animal; her irises glowed a sickly yellow.  I cringed away from her.
"It's okay, I’m a werewolf,” Fawne said.  Why she thought telling me she was a werewolf would be of comfort to me, I have no idea.  I clenched my jaw, swallowing the bile that was threatening an encore.  "Damn it!  Rigel, you didn't have to tell her like that!” She said.
 I felt hot tears trailing down my cheeks, and began to sob.  Fawne helped me up and half-carried me into the limo.  She sat down next to me, still patting my back.  Lily moved to the bench along the back of the car between where Rigel sat and where Fawne and I sat.  I felt the car begin to move again, but I didn't care.
I just kept thinking about Gemma and how scared she must be.  I burst into tears as fresh sobs shook my body.  When I'd cried all I could, I sat, feeling defeated, my body still shaking.  My thoughts turned to what my grandma would do when Gemma and I didn't come home.  I pictured her frantic conversation with my mom and took in a shaky breath to try to calm myself.
"I didn't mean for you to get so upset,” Rigel said.  Fawne and I both glared at him.  "I don't want you to be mad, okay.  What can I do to make you feel better?"
"She could call her grandma,” Lily said.  My head jerked up in surprise.
"How did…”        
"I listened to your head.”  Lily said matter-of-factly.  Did all witches do that?  I wondered.  "I'm not a witch- and no, I'm special.”  Lily said.
"Keep it up and I'll bind you for a week,” Rigel said.  Lily rolled her eyes.  "Lily apologizes.  Her gift is very rare in magical children as young as she is.  She won't be invading your thoughts again.  Will you, Lily?"
"I do have to call my grandma, though.  My mom's out-of-town and my grandma was coming over this morning to stay with us.” 
"Understood,” Rigel gathered his coat from the floor where I'd discarded it prior to my Linda Blair impersonation and tossed me a phone.  "Look, I'm sorry I sprung the whole coffin thing on you like that.” He said it like he was apologizing for something unimportant, like a stain on the rug- which is precisely what he'd be if he said one more thing about Gemma.  "I'll make it up to you.”  I narrowed my eyes at him.
"Oh, yeah?”  I said.  I expected him to say he'd buy me an ice cream or something equally stupid, but his words blew all my expectations out the window. 
"We'll make a stop at your house and you can visit with your grandma."
"Are you serious?”  I asked.  Rigel smoothed his hands down the black material of his shirt.
"As a vampire attack,” Rigel said.  He pushed a button on the car door and the partition dividing the back of the limo from the driver lowered.  "We're going to back track, Roscoe.”  A minute later, we headed towards my house and I had a whole new set of problems.
                                               
 
 
Chapter Fourteen
Friends of the Family
 
 
An hour later, I was basking in the familiar comfort of my home, curled up on the recliner in my living room.  My grandmother sat beside me on the sofa, the heat from her coffee mug sending swirls of scented smoke into the air.  She'd made us a pot of tea, using an old recipe she'd learned from her mother.  No tea ever tasted as good as Grandma's.
She'd been so excited when I came home with my "friends" Fawne and Rigel.  We'd left Lily with the driver who, Fawne told me, was also Lily's bodyguard.  I'd asked Fawne why the little girl needed a bodyguard, but she's shushed me with a look of warning.  My Grandma was disappointed that Gemma was staying over at a friend's house- an alibi provided by Fawne after I'd babbled incoherently when my Grandma asked where my sister was.
"I'm always so glad to meet my granddaughter's friends.  Did you kids meet at school?”  Grandma asked.
"Uh, yeah.  Fawne's in my honors English class.”  The lie came to me easily and I felt a pang of guilt gnaw my stomach.
"And how did you meet this handsome young man?”  Grandma asked.  I turned my attention to Rigel whose face threatened to split from the smile he was aiming at me.  I frowned at him and his smile widened; his blue eyes crinkling at the corners.
"Ascher!  I can't believe you didn't tell your grandmother about how I met you.”  I scowled at him.
"It must have slipped my mind,” I said through clenched teeth.
"I suppose next you'll tell me you haven't told her we're dating.” Tears filled Rigel's eyes as he struggled not to laugh at the horrified look on my face.  I bit my lip.
"Oh, my!  Ascher, I didn't know you had a beau!  Why didn't you tell me?”  My grandma's face was a mask of disappointment.
"Well, we're not really…” 
"Come on, Asch, sweetie.  No need to be shy.”  Rigel got up from the loveseat where he and Fawne sat and crossed over to me.  "We've been dating for four months.”  He took a seat on the wide armrest of my recliner and placed a hand on my knee.  I turned to him, my teeth grinding together
"Stop it!”  I whispered.
"Oh, I'm so glad Ascher has found herself a nice young man.  Her sister Gemma's always had more luck socializing with the boys and all that.  Our little Ascher was always the shy one.  Always tagging along behind her big sister like a baby duck!”  Grandma said.  I wanted to crawl into a hole and die, not necessarily in that order.
"Well, lucky for me, it made her easier to catch!”  Rigel laughed at his joke, my Grandma laughing right a long with him.  Still seething, I placed my hand on top of his in a gesture of familiarity and dug my fingernails into the back of his hand.
I saw a blur of movement to my right and noticed my black and white cat Nicky was peering at me through the white railing of the banister that led upstairs.
"Hey, little man,” I said.  Nicky meowed his response and climbed down the stairs to meet me.  He always followed me around.  Mewling and mewling until I picked him up, like a furry baby.
Nicky turned the corner leading to the living room and froze in mid-step.  He was staring at Rigel.  Nicky's velvety little ears flattened against his head.  He growled and flicked his tail in challenge.
"I see you have the same effect on cats as you do on people,” I said.
"I see you're cat is as uptight as you,” Rigel said.  My Grandma watched Rigel and I, her usually tranquil gray-green eyes squinted in concern.
"Is everything cool, kids?”  Grandma asked.  I smiled at her sweet, but lame attempt to bridge the generational gap.
"Yeah, we're fine. Could you excuse me for a moment?”  I stood and Rigel started to follow me.  "I'll be right back.” Rigel smiled at me.
"I know you will.  You wouldn't leave your grandmother alone for too long."  I heard the underlying threat in his words and swallowed.  I ran up the stairs, taking two at a time, and collapsed on my bed.  I could feel tears on my cheeks, but that was the only reason I knew I was crying.  I felt drained, empty.
God, I don't even have the energy to cry .
I felt something brush against my side and raised my head up to see my sister's cat Angel.  I stroked her silver fur and took a deep, shaky breath.  I had to keep it together for Gemma.
My eyes skimmed my overloaded bookshelves; all of them filled with horror novels, books peopled with vampires, witches, ghosts, and werewolves.  When these creatures merely existed on the page, they seemed exciting, alluring- each novel an escape into a world I'd often wished was real.  I laughed bitterly.
You got what you wanted . Your sister is locked in a coffin and your Grandma is in the middle of the world's most funked-up tea party with a werewolf and a warlock. 
The Dracula poster on my wall seemed to taunt me, the vampires' yellow eyes, and sharp fangs mocking my hopelessness.  As I eyed the Dracula poster, I grew increasingly pissed.  I couldn't look at that stupid poster for another second.  I pushed myself up from my bed and crossed the room, tearing the Dracula poster off the wall and into many tiny pieces.
"Feel better?”  Fawne stood in my doorway, her arms wrapped around herself as if she were cold.
"I want to kill Savian for what he did to Gemma,” I said.  Fawne rubbed her arms.
"I know how you feel.” 
"What did he do to you?”  I asked.  Fawne shook her head and stepped further into my room.
"Not him.  A werewolf killed my father, stepmother, and brother, Robby.  He was only six.  I was eleven,” Fawne said.  "They kept me as a prisoner, a servant for three years.  One night, they brought a prize home for dinner- a little girl, Daray's sister.  I'd been used to following orders for so long, but something inside me just snapped.  I took out three of my captors and escaped with her. 
When she told Daray what had happened he pledged a gift to me.  I could have anything I wanted because I'd saved the life of the Warlock Princess.  I told him I wanted revenge, against those who killed my family and I wanted to learn to fight.  He led a raid on the were pack that night.  It was a long time ago, but the impulse to fight, to get revenge, it never really stops.  If you want to help your sister, you need to use the anger you're feeling.  It'll fuel your magic."
"I don't know how.”
"It'll come to you soon enough.” She stalked over to my closet and began shoving through my clothes.  "You need something to wear tonight.  Something impressive."
"Why does it matter?” 
"You're going to meet royalty, girl.” 
"What?  Am I being introduced to the Gnome King?"
"The Warlock Prince, actually.  He's using his pull to help us get to Gemma,” she said.  My stomach did a nervous flip-flop.
"I'm pretty sure Gemma has some dresses from last year's dances I could borrow.” 
"No.  Her scent would be all over them and the vamps would sniff you out.  I'll take care of it.  We have to get going; sunset is in a couple of hours.”  I spotted my alarm clock on in its usual place on my nightstand.  It was 3:53 .
A couple of hours until sunset. 
A couple of hours left to find out what powers, if any, I have. 
A couple of hours to learn how to use them to destroy the Master Vampire of Chicago .
 
                                                * * * *
 
After my Grandma and I said our good-byes, Fawne, Rigel and I headed to the limo.  I could tell she was sad I wasn't staying longer, but she said she was glad I'd be "out and about" with my friends.  When we'd settled back into the limo, I noticed Rigel was studying me.
"What?” 
"Your grandma's a witch, but she doesn't know it,” he said.  "Her aura reads like a human's and I didn't feel any magic coming off of her, but you can sense her magic, waiting to be released.”  I was getting sick of his evasive answers.
"What's your point?” 
"Someone or something blocked her memories and bound her magic.” 
"I don't understand,” I said.  Rigel bit his lip.
"Your grandmother's magic was bound.  That sort of thing happens, but the victim always remembers who they were, the powers they had.  The fact that you're a witch or a warlock can't be erased.  Not unless the victim themselves casts an erosive memory spell.  Your grandma would've had to cast the spell of forgetting on herself.” 
"Why would she do that?”  I asked.  Rigel cracked his knuckles.
"That's what I'd like to know.” 
We sat in silence for most of the ride.  Lily fell asleep while we were visiting my Grandma and the rest of us weren't in a very chatty mood.  When the car pulled to a stop, I jerked out of my reverie.
"Where are we?”  I asked.
" Chicago ,” Rigel said.  He didn't say anymore.  His face was drawn and pensive.  I couldn't tell if he looked scared or angry, maybe he was both.
I followed Rigel and Fawne out of the car.  The limo pulled away; Lily and the driver/bodyguard in tow.  Fawne led the way to an elevator, ushered us in and pushed the button for the 23rd floor.  I closed my eyes as we surged upwards, my belly filled with butterflies.
 
* * * *
 
When the elevator doors opened, Fawne led us to a door marked 23D.  She unlocked the door and directed us inside.
"Welcome to my humble abode,” Fawne said.  Humble was not exactly the word I would have used.  A living room, the size of a small gymnasium opened in front of us.  Brown suede overstuffed sofas and a black leather recliner were the only furnishings.
 I couldn't see a TV, but I didn't think it was so very strange, considering that the entire back wall of her apartment was made of one huge window with the most amazing view of the Chicago skyline.  A veil of dusk covered the city.
"It's beautiful,” I said.  I wondered if her apartment was a gift from Daray, but didn't dare ask.  "Do you live with anyone?” 
"No.  Just me. I'll show you where you can shower and dress."  I followed Fawne through a wide hallway, lined with strange photos, maps and posters with foreign words on them. "I travel a lot.” I found that a strange explanation for wallpapering her home with maps.  She opened a set of double doors to our left, which led into a beautiful bedroom with a bed, vanity, armoire and sofa.  "The bathroom is right in here.” 
An old-fashioned tub sat on the right side of the bathroom.  "There are extra toothbrushes in the cabinet under the sink and a robe on the back of the door.  You should find everything else.”  Fawne turned on the faucet and the huge, claw-footed tub began to fill with water.  She poured some salts and bubbles into the water and dropped a plug into the tub.     
"Thanks,” I said.
"Sure thing.  When you're done, we can look through my closets and find something for you to wear.  You're taller than me, but we're about the same size.  Sound good?” 
Fawne hurried from the bathroom before I could respond.  I shut the door behind her and locked it, grateful to be alone.  I kicked off Rigel's conjured sneakers and peeled off the clothes Cyd lent me.
Stepping into the hot, fragrant water felt like heaven.  Easing myself into the tub, I ducked my hair into the tub and rubbed water over my face.  I tried to forget about the night ahead and concentrated on getting myself clean.
                                     
 
 
Chapter Fifteen
Warlock Secret Service
 
 
When I'd finished bathing, Fawne took me into her huge, plainly decorated bedroom and into her walk-in closet to pick out something to wear.  She was already dressed in a satin lilac-colored dress that made her pale green eyes pop out against the dark caramel color of her skin.  Her feet were tied in matching sandals, which were pretty, but not very practical for a rescue mission.
"Are you sure you can run in those?”  I asked.       
"If it gets to the point where I'm fighting, everything will come off anyway.  I'm a werewolf, remember.”  As if I could forget.
 I tried to ask her more, but she changed the subject and set about rummaging through her closet.  Twenty-minutes later, I was dressed and gawking at my image in the mirror.
I was dressed in a black, sleeveless ball gown.  Yep.  I said ball gown.  It was beautiful, in a gothic sort of way.  I felt like the Corpse Bride.  My pale, practically translucent skin a stark contrast to the raven material.
The skirt of the gown puffed-out in a Princess meets Fright-Night poof.  I felt ridiculous even though part of me felt like spinning in circles just to watch the skirt swish.  Rigel's sudden tuxedo-clad appearance squelched the impulses of my inner six-year-old.  He grinned at me and I braced myself for a smart-ass comment.
"Well.  You look very…”  He flicked his fingers as if thinking of something to say, "…very, uh, Mistress of the Night,” he said.  I narrowed my eyes and wished I had the power to hurl him across the room Carrie-style.  Fawne laughed and I turned my evil eye on her.
"Why am I dressed like this anyway?” Fawne and Rigel exchanged a look.
"It's sort of a costume.  We need you to look the part you'll be playing,” Fawne said.  Her arms reached behind me to fasten a huge, antique silver cross around my neck.
"And what part will I be playing.  Gothic-girl Barbie?”  I said gesturing to my blonde hair that Fawne had twirled into spiral curls.
"We're going to perform a glamour spell on you to make the vamps think you're a high-ranking vampire named Dionysia.” 
Oh, crap.
"Should I be wearing a cross then?  I mean, vampires are allergic to them.  Aren't they?” 
"Some might be,” Rigel said.  "But not any I've ever dealt with."
"Most vampires aren't allergic to the cross.  Dionysia wears one as a sort of status symbol; she has ever since Stoker's book became popular,” Fawne said.
"And, um, you guys will be there to back me up, right?”  I asked.
"We'll take care of the big, bad stuff.” 
"Yeah.  Your job will be to find your sister.  That's it.”  Fawne said.
Oh.  That's it.  Just find my imprisoned sister while impersonating a well-known vampire in a club filled with bloodsuckers.  Great.  For a minute there, I was worried.
 
                                                * * * *
 
Equinox was a lot more exclusive than The Crimson.  Only guests of The Royal Valerian family were admitted, and even they needed to be on the list.  Rigel held a card out to the door attendant who clapped him on the back and used a hand-held metal detector.
"Whimbrel.  It's good to see you, man,” the door attendant regarded Fawne and I with curiosity.  Rigel picked up a pen connected to the clipboard placed on a small kiosk.
The pen made a clicking noise and Rigel grimaced, swishing his finger over a metal disk.
A green light above the door blinked.
"He's got to scan you before we go inside.  Fawne, you know the drill,” Rigel said.  Fawne stepped closer to the door attendant who used the metal detector on her.  Fawne went through the same motions with the pen, placing her fingertip over the disk just as Rigel had.
The door attendant stepped so close to me, I got a whiff of his after-shave.  As he drew the metal detector slowly over my arms, I became aware of his attention on the bodice of my gown.  I harrumphed and stomped the heel of my shoe into the ground.  I was getting sooo tired of guys looking at me like that.  It made me feel weird and uncomfortable, like I was doing something wrong.  When the metal detector went over my skirt-covered legs, I took the opportunity to "accidentally" trip and mash the creep's toes. Fawne hid a smile and called me over to the clipboard.
"This is just to make sure you're not a vampire.  It's like a lab test,” Fawne said.  I reacted too slowly to her words and by the time I'd caught their meaning, Fawne had pricked my index finger with the "pen" and was smearing a drop of my blood on a thin silver disk.
A needle.  The pen had a freaking needle inside it!
 I snatched my hand away from her and cradled it to my chest.  The light above the door flashed green several times and I followed Rigel into the club, Fawne's heels clickity-clacking just behind me.
It was hard to see much of anything unless I stood under the candelabra mounted on the walls.  There were flowers and plants everywhere.  The bar to my left was covered in vines of ivy and some other plant I didn't recognize.  Every surface was crowded with daisies and tulips, roses and carnations.  In fact, the only place that didn't look as though Mother Nature had regurgitated over it was the DJ booth to the right of us.
"Equinox is divided into two floors.  Autumn and spring.  Guess which level where on now,” Rigel said.  I rolled my eyes and he snickered.
Techno music pulsed in rapid thrums, a throng of writhing bodies twisting with the music.  I've never liked House music or techno stuff because you can't dance to it without looking like a spaz.
A huge maypole stood in the center of the dance floor.  Behind it, the blossoming branches of an apple tree reached towards the ceiling.  Vibrations from the stereo rained white petals over the crowd.  My hands were freezing, though my face and neck felt fever-hot.  I swayed on my feet and held my palms to my temples.
"We'd better go downstairs.  She's going to pass out,” Fawne said.
"I'm fine.  I just…need a second.”
Rigel placed his hand on the small of my back and herded us through the crowd.  The black of his tux mixed with the shadows and smoke until it seemed like he was just a floating head.  The illusion unnerved me and I glanced away, allowing him to steer me through the path he'd cleared.
We approached a staircase leading down.  It was guarded by three bulky men.  He left me with Fawne and I was, again, stuck with the impression that I was being babysat.  Rigel talked with them for an instant and then waved us over.
"Warlock secret-service,” Fawne whispered.  I rubbed my temples, trying to sooth the ache that had settled in.  The guards moved aside to make room for Rigel.  We descended the staircase and I frowned when I saw it stopped in front of a red door.
"Why not just build a moat?” I asked. Fawne smiled wryly and gave me a little punch in the arm.  Turning her focus back to Rigel, I saw a lusty look wash over her.  Someone was in lo-ove.  Rigel stretched his palm against a scanner on the side of the door. A sound like a deadbolt turning was followed by the door popping open.
Rigel pushed through the small entryway, Fawne and I at his heels.  I glanced at Fawne who was all but drooling over Rigel's new Bond look.  The giddy urge to tease her filled me, but went away just as quickly when I remembered the girl filed her nails with her teeth.
"Whenever I come here, I feel like I'm in the middle of an episode of MTV Cribs,” Fawne said.  She was right.  I couldn't tell if we were in a lounge or an office.  I could tell that whoever work/lounged here was "well-to-do" as my Grandma would say.  That is when she wasn't using the word "bling" which destroyed its coolness.  I love it when adults try to be cool- it's just so…cute.
"Make yourselves comfortable while I tell Prince Daray we're here,” Rigel said.  I slid my high-heeled-feet across a thick, white shag carpet.  After several valiant efforts to smooth down my poofy skirt I gave up and plopped onto the couch.  The black lace of the gown surrounded me like some itchy fabric warden 
"I thought you said Equinox had two levels,” I said.  It sure didn't look like fall in here.  The interior of the room held no framed photographs, no cheery decorations, and no plants.  It was almost like an ad in a furniture catalogue.  Only, the furniture was all white and weirdly constructed with a strange metal that reflected the lighting above us.
"It does have two levels.  These are the royal family's personal rooms.” Hissing noises came from behind me, followed by the growling grumbles of an angry cat.
"I used to love cats,” Fawne said.
"Cats?”  I looked over her shoulder at the desktop and coughed in surprise.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me,” I said.  A crystal ball sat next to a cauldron containing, what looked a lot like, kitty litter.  A slender, white cat perched in front of the cauldron and was in the midst of, well, a hissy fit.  The cat held its paws up, ready to throw down it seemed.  Fawne reached for the cat and growled when it did its Freddy Krueger, claw slash.
"When you say you used to love cats…"
"I had them as pets when I was a kid.  Their names were Mittens and Fluffy."
I made a face at the clichéd names and Fawne scowled.
"Hey, I was five when we got them.  Be glad I didn't name them Poopie and Cooties.” The cat slapped at Fawne with its paw in three rapid movements.
"What's wrong Kung-fu Kitty?”  I asked.
"I think he can tell what I am; can sense it.” Her face was sad.
"I'm sure he just doesn't like strangers.  See, watch.”  I reached forward to pet the cat, silently wishing he'd smack me, too so Fawne wouldn't feel so bad.  Instead, the cat head-butted my palm and rubbed his chin over my fingers.  "He smells my cats.”
"He senses your power,” a lightly accented voice said.  Fawne quickly fell into a curtsy and nudged me to do the same.  I gathered my skirt and imitated Fawne's motions.  My gaze was aimed at the floor.  It wasn't a respect thing because he was royalty; I was just too nervous to look anywhere else.  “The cat is Cadmus and I…I am Prince Daray Valerian, Son to Dunlin Valerian, Prince of the Warlocks."
His hand reached towards me and tilted my chin up to stare into a pair of silver eyes.  I stood, feeling more out of place than I'd felt in my life.  Daray took my left hand and sandwiched it between his own, his eyes watching me in a way that made my cheeks flush.  A blue, lightning-looking thing shot out of and over his hands, sending painful spikes through my fingers.  I yanked myself away, stumbling backwards to get as far away from him as possible.  What had he done?
"Give me your hand,” Daray said.
"But, that hurt.  What did…?"
"Give me your hand.” He spoke like he was used to giving orders and even more used to having them obeyed.
"Why?” 
"I'm channeling my energy to help you unleash your powers,” Daray said.  I hesitated, but extended my hand to him.  If I did have powers, I wanted to know.  Daray took my hand in his and the same electric-blue energy crackled over my palm and up my arm.  It snaked up to cover my neck and sizzled over my cheeks and into my eyes.  I freaked out and tried to pull away, but Daray wouldn't let go of me.  His silver eyes turned black as the pupils eclipsed the startling sterling of his irises.
The blue light burned my skin and I shrieked as huge, gross blisters began to rise on my skin.  I tried to look away from him, but his eyes seemed to hold me to the spot.  Transfixed, I stared into Daray's eyes, which were black as the magic ripping through my body.  As the minutes passed, I became aware of the fact that those alien eyes would be the last I'd ever see.  The knowledge didn't make me sad or even scared.  No, I was just really pissed.
I was angry with the freak-of-nature tearing my life away and I was mad at myself for being too weak to do anything about it.  This… monster thought he could just kill me, just snuff me out like I was no more than a flame on a candle wick.  I thought of Gemma, alone in a dark coffin.  I thought of my mother returning from her trip to find her daughters missing and pictured her frantic conversation with my terrified grandmother.
And why had this happened?  Because this guy was powerful.  He was stronger than me.  He was a warlock.  He was royalty.  He was…
  "Dead,” I answered through gritted teeth.
 I unclenched my jaw and screamed.  I cried out through the pain I felt, but, even more, I cried out with the need to escape the terror, the hopelessness and the magic that held me.  An explosion of light flashed in front of me before a calm wave washed over my body.  I shivered with in relief.  The energy felt so cold.  I felt something icy in my hands.
"Ascher!"
Who said that?  Spots danced across my vision as the room refocused.
"Reverte Aurora.”  It was a guy's voice, the same one from before.  I couldn't understand what he was saying.  I looked down at the frigid object in my hands and gasped.  A sphere of red light, the size of grapefruit, circled in the palms of my hands.  The crimson light was crackling over my skin, the horrible blue light fading away.    "Ascher!”
Ready to fight my way out of there, I held my palms outwards and watched in amazement as the red sphere left my palms and flew at Daray.  When the fiery circle reached him, it burst into flames, sending ash and smoke through the air.
Rigel tackled Daray to the ground, using his tuxedo jacket to smother the blaze.  Fawne rushed over to the sprawled duo, a green vase in her hands.  She emptied the vase, flowers and all, over Daray and the fire died.  Rigel and Fawne continued to move around, using nearby objects to fight the tiny fire kindling throughout the room.
My  fire.   The fire I'd made and controlled.  All at once, I knew it was true.  I knew I was a Warlock.  I knew I could conjure fire.  And I knew I could never wake up from this nightmare.
                                     
 
 
Chapter Sixteen
All Work and No Play
 
 
After changing out of his smoldered, wet clothes, Rigel returned to the office with a less cocky attitude- and a leather bag full of weapons.  He apologized to me for "using magical means" to awaken my powers, diving right into a round of target practice with me.
I was still mad at him for using the blue light on me.  He'd made me think I was dying.  A ruse spell, he'd called it.  I had to admit though; his "magical means" were what brought me into my powers, giving me the ability to help my sister.
The Prince and I took turns attacking each other and warding off blows.  He faced me, his hands out in a crouching tiger fashion as I threw balls of fire at him.  All I had to do to conjure the fire was to think about it and the fireballs, sort of, emerged from my palms.  It didn't even hurt.  My hands just felt like they were cold.  Very cold, with that kind of freezing that was so cold it was almost hot.
Daray dodged my fireballs, diving to crush them in his hands.  I think he was trying to keep the damage to the furniture minimal.  He caught the fire, which flared purple before extinguishing.  Using his blue-light magic on them, no doubt.
"How do you do that?”  I asked, throwing two fire balls at him.  Daray batted one away, forcing Rigel to run after it with a small fire extinguisher.
"I am an Energy shifter,” he said.
"Um.  Could you, like, elaborate?  I've been a warlock for forty-eight hours, remember?”  Daray flicked his hand at me and blue light snaked towards my face.  I tossed a fire ball at the light and they collided, purple smoke puffing in the air.  I guess he wanted me to switch to defense.
"I can tap into both the natural and magical elements of the earth and use them to thwart my enemies.” I snorted back a laugh.  Who uses the word thwart?
After what seemed like an eternity of sparring, Daray stopped and told me to put down my dukes.  Of course, he didn't use those words because that would require him to have some type of personality.
"We should move on to vampire self-defense.  And I think you should change into something less…flammable,” Daray said.  Rigel snapped his fingers and I was wearing stretchy black leggings and matching scoop-neck top.
"What are you, a wardrobe shifter?” Rigel just smiled at me with that "I-know-something-you-don't" look in his crinkled blue eyes.  He plopped himself on the sofa next to Fawne who panted from the job of volunteer fire-fighter.
"Now, Ascher.  The first thing you…”  Daray words choked in his throat and he stopped speaking.  He froze like a Madame Tussaud’s wax figure.
"The first thing I…what?”  I asked.  When he said nothing, I took a step towards him.  "Are you okay?  Prince Daray!”  I waved my fingers in front of his face.  "Hello!”  He didn't budge.  "What's his deal?”  I asked, turning to make a face at Rigel and Fawne.  Both were held still as if we were a movie and someone had pressed "pause."
"Hey, guys…”  I started, but they were equally silent.  Behind them, the cat was suspended in mid-leap.  This was sooo not good.
"Hello Ascher.”  I spun and hurled a fire ball at the dark figure lurking in the corner of the room.  The fire melted into the darkness and Elliot Ambrose emerged from the shadows.
"You!” 
"Anise Curry, the maiden witch of the Bruer Coven contacted me on your behalf.  I'm here to rescue you."
"You're here to rescue me?” His lips parted in a smile.  "You're about two seconds from knowing how a marshmallow at a campfire feels like, buddy!” 
"I speak the truth.  The witch used the bloodstone ring I gave you to summon me.  It seems she wanted to…”  Elliot paused as if searching for the right word.  "…help you, but is not permitted to because of her position."
"Her position?”  Curious in spite of myself, I took the bait.
"She is the granddaughter of the Witch Crone and you're a warlock.  Let's just say they have their differences."
"Why should I believe you?  You're working with the vampires.  What, is this, like, their lame attempt at getting me to switch to the dark side or something?”  I asked.  Elliot folded his eyebrows in a frown.
"Dark side?"
"Yeah, you know. ‘  Luke, I am your father' and all that.”  I said.  His frown deepened.  This guy was so not a movie-buff.
"Forget it.  Just undo whatever it is you did to my, uh, to them and bail."
"I will do as you've asked, but first, I must tell you what I've come to say.”  I nodded and gestured for him to go on.  "Anise has discovered that someone in the ranks of the Warlocks has been spying on you and your sister since the events of a few weeks ago when Gemma came in to her powers as a feline-shifter,” Elliot said.
How did Elliot know about how long Gemma had been shifting?
  "The witch does not yet know who has been following you and your sister, but Warlocks seldom use such human tactics as spying on those with powers, so she feels you must be of some significant interest to them.  Specifically, to Prince Daray."
"Look, all I know is that Prince Daray is helping me get my sister back from you and your suck-head friends.  I…”  Elliot was on me in the blink of an eye, his hands gripping my arms and his eyes two dark pools of anger.
"What makes you think he's doing any of this for you?”  His words were hot against my face.  "You have a powerful magic inside of you and Warlocks are known to be collectors of such magic.”  He shook me a little with each word he spoke.  "You think this is an act of kindness…of charity?  Warlocks know nothing of kindness.  They know only power.  Power of magic.  Power over those who possess it.  Daray will try to rip your magic from you and if he cannot then he will try to conquer you, to possess you and he'll control your power that way."
Elliot tore his hands away from me and paced around me in a mad march.  I gaped at him, not knowing what to say.  I couldn't help but feel there was truth to his words.
"What am I supposed to do?”  My eyes were blurry with unshed tears.  "They say they can help me get Gemma.  For God's sake!  What- am I supposed to sit on my butt until the vampires decide to hand her over?  And it's not like you're offering to help me get her back.  What makes you talk so badly of them when you won't do a damned thing to help my sister?  To help me?"
"I am the vampires' prisoner!  As I have been for centuries.  Do you have any idea how much of my power was drained when I fought my way you in your dream?  To come to you now, I have depleted my power to the point where I can be destroyed.  I've shifted time itself to give you this warning.  Don't you understand why I've done this?  Why I've come?"
Elliot caught me in his arms and pressed his lips against mine.  I surprised myself by kissing him back, soft movements at first.  Then, my lips moved against his with a fervent hunger I hadn't known I possessed.  I pulled away, our breath puffing against our faces in ragged gasps.
"I have lived for centuries and no woman has ever touched me as you have.  No other face has ever caused my very soul to alight.  You, Ascher, are my destiny.” I didn't know what to say to that.
"I like you, too.” His head snapped back and he laughed like I'd just said the funniest thing he'd ever heard.  He tilted my chin up until I met his chocolate brown eyes and kissed my forehead.  "Be careful, tonight.  I will do what I can to help you, but if I'm too weak from Time-shifting use this.”  Elliot slipped the bloodstone ring he'd given me in my dream over the ring finger of my left hand and brushed his lips against my palm.  His body disappeared into shadow and the room shifted back into action like someone had pressed un-pause.
"…should know about vampires is how to kill them,” Daray continued speaking, his hands digging through the contents of the leather bag.  "Now…”  He narrowed his eyes at me and my heart flip-flopped.  "Why are you all the way over there?”  He asked.
"I was, uh…”  Think, Ascher, Think!  "Going to pet Cadmus,” I said, my hand pointing stupidly at the fluffy white cat.
"Later.  I need you to focus right now," he said.  I sat down next to Fawne who was crossing her eyes at me.
"All work and no play make Prince Daray a dull boy.”  I smiled at her Stephen King reference.
"Now, Ascher.  Tell me what can kill a vampire,”  Daray said.  I bit my lip.  What could kill a vampire depended on what movie, book or TV show you consulted.
"Well, it varies.  Sunlight, fire, beheading and the removal and destruction of the heart always seem to work,” I said.  Well, well Princey looked impressed.
"You've hunted vampires before…?” Daray asked.
"No, I've watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer before."
"You've trained with a slayer, then?”  My mouth dropped open and he actually laughed. "I caught the King reference as well.”  Fawne's face was a mask of fright.
Heaven help me, but I was beginning to warm-up to the Warlock-Schmuck.
                                               
                                     
 
Chapter Seventeen
The Rogue Witch
 
 
An hour later, I was back in the poofy black dress and the limousine.  Daray was busy going over some last minute "rescue details" with Rigel.  I knew we were making a stop to pick someone else, but nothing about who they were.  I guess Daray felt like I'd been asking too many questions because he'd threatened to bind me, which had, of course, just pissed me off.  I "accidentally" singed his shirtsleeve and he hadn't said a word to me since.
Just as I started to coax some details out of Fawne, the car stopped and Rigel climbed out of the car.  I now knew we were meeting a rogue-witch who had not yet agreed to help rescue Gemma.  She'd refused to agree to help over the phone and had insisted Daray make an appearance.  The witch was wary of warlocks.  I wondered what type of power she had that allowed her to order the Warlock Prince around without fear of getting zapped.
Daray followed Rigel outside and I heard Daray's curse.  He climbed back into the car and crossed his arms across his chest.  He had the look of a little boy who just been grounded.
"Is there a problem, Sir?”  Fawne asked.
"The meeting place is supposed to be somewhere hidden, secured and private,” Daray said.
"And?”  Fawne had a knack for getting right to the point.
"Take a look for yourself.” Fawne made her way to the door and pushed the button to lower the window.  Rigel popped his head through the opening.
"I'm sorry, Prince Daray.  I asked for the meeting to be at the warehouse or The Equinox, but was told she wanted a public place.  Because, well – you know,” Rigel said.
"In case the big, scary warlocks try anything,” I said.  I was getting used to the fact that the Warlocks seemed to be the supernatural scapegoat.
"A public place was agreed upon, but this…this is…”  Daray was at a loss for words.  Yep.  The obnoxious, know-it-all Prince of the Warlocks was speechless.
"It's a coffee shop, your Grace,” Fawne said.  She opened the door and held her hand out to help me out of the car.  I smiled at the huge green sign bearing the name of the well-known coffee chain.  It was the most normal thing I'd seen in two days and I was glad for the sense of familiarity it gave me.  I had a crazy impulse to kiss the front door.
Prince Daray climbed out of the car, sneering.  He seemed jumpy and the look of suspicious alertness on his face made my stomach roll.
"Is this, um, rogue-witch or whatever dangerous?” 
"Hardly,” Daray said, but I could tell he was uneasy.  Fawne squeezed my hand, which made me raise my eyebrows in question.
"They have a history,” Fawne said.  A history- like a romantic one?  I felt a twinge of jealousy, which both surprised and irritated me.
"Muffin?”  Daray asked.  My heart leaped.
"What?”
"Do you want a muffin, something to eat or drink?”  Daray asked.  I nodded and turned to look at a display of travel mugs and coffee-makers to hide the fact that my face was turning red.  When he returned with a tall latte and a blueberry muffin I thanked him and frowned at the pastry that had caused my embarrassment. 
Little, delicious traitor!
Daray gave Fawne some sort of signal and she went to stand beside the entryway.  I plopped onto an overstuffed velvet chair.  After looking at his seating options with what can only be described as muted horror, Daray sat next to me.
We sat there, silent, for at least five minutes before Daray heaved a sigh of impatience.
"Unbelievable disrespect!  She picks the location, the meeting time and she still can't arrive on…"
"Hey Ray!”  A beautiful blonde girl with saucer-sized blue eyes hurried over to us.  After wiping her hands on the green apron she wore, she rushed over to Daray and wrapped him in a hug before he could even leave his chair.  "I was so excited to hear that you called that I just had Iridian tell you to meet me at the end of my shift."
"Your shift?  Still insisting on this ridiculous masquerade I see,” Daray said.  The blonde girl ignored his comment and turned her toothpaste-ad smile my way.
"My cousin seems to have lost his manners.  I'm P.J.”  I put my hand out and shook hers.
"Ascher,” I said.  P.J. beamed a smile at Daray.
 "The Prince and I haven't seen each other…"
"Since you left with that Witch boyfriend of yours.  How is Irrational, anyway, Persephone Jasmine?”  Daray's words sliced like a knife through the conversation making P.J.'s smile falter.
"It's Iridian – and you know it.  Besides, by the looks of things.  We seem to be the pot calling the cauldron black," P.J. said.  I didn't get the reference, but Daray clasped his hands together and took a deep breath.
"Careful, cousin.  Remember your place.” P.J.'s face whitened.
"Since you exiled me, I no longer have one.  Why have you come?”  P.J. said.
"I need you're assistance in casting a short-term, multiple illusion glamour over a group of vampires including Savian Radbourne."
"Uh, uh.  Not gonna happen,” P.J. said.  "I told you I'd never use my magic like that again.  Goddess, Daray.  We have enough to deal with without starting a war with the vampires.
"We?  Don't you mean I have enough to deal with?  You're no longer a Warlock.  Royal or otherwise, Persephone Jasmine,” the Prince said.  P.J.'s narrowed her eyes.
"No.  No, I'm not.  Not since you betrayed me by telling my parents about Iridian When I confided in you, it was as my cousin and friend, not as my liege.  Because of you, I lost my family, my friends, my title.  Why on Mother Earth would you think I'd use my magic to help further your political agenda?"
"This isn't about politics.  It's a rescue mission,” Daray said.
"You're rescuing a vampire?”  P.J. asked incredulously.
"We're rescuing a girl who was taken by vampires,” Daray said.
"She's already been turned, drained or killed.”  P.J. said.  I clenched my jaw.
"She's still alive,” I said.  P.J. coughed back a laugh.
"Vampires don't exactly keep humans around for company,” P.J. said.  My hearing disappeared and I lost my sight as feverish warmth spread throughout my body.
"The girl that was taken isn't human,” Daray said.
"Blood is blood.  I'm telling you, it's pointless.  She's six-feet under or on a strictly liquid diet by now.”  P.J. stopped talking and starred at the table.  Looking down, I saw that the remainder of my coffee was boiling rapidly, sending froth over the rim and piddling onto the table.
P.J. pulled a stained washcloth from the pocket of her apron and sopped up the mess.  My nostrils flared.  The Styrofoam cup was burning.  My eyes lifted to P.J.'s face and I felt a wave of heat wash over me.
Daray was already in front of me.  His bare palm caught the fireball before it hit his cousin.  Her wispy blonde bangs smoked, singed at the very ends.  She blinked, her astonished eyes watching me through her soot-smeared face.  Daray held his hands in front of him and winced.  They were covered in blisters and raw wounds.
"I suppose I should mention that the girl we're rescuing is Ascher's sister,” Daray said.  I reached towards him, but he flinched.  P.J. handed me her apron and I gently wrapped his hands in the stiff cloth.
"Oh, Daray.  I'm so sorry.  I swear I didn't mean to, it's just, the way she was talking about Gemma.  I guess I, sort of, freaked.”  Our eyes met and I shuddered.  He'd been staring at me with something like hunger in his eyes.  I noticed how close together our faces were.  I could feel his breath on my lips.
"A fireshifter, Goddess,” P.J. said. We both jumped.  P.J. reached out to me like she wanted to make sure I was real.
"When was your first Shifting?” P.J. asked.
"My what?"
“Your first shifting.” I looked at Daray and shrugged.  P.J. puffed her breath out and frowned.  "The first time you shifted fire.  When was it?”  She spoke the words slowly like she thought I was stupid.
"Today,” Daray and I said together.  P.J. kneeled at my side, her breath rushing out and her hands clasping mine.
"Good Mother!  I can see why Daray…"
"Bite your tongue, cousin.”  P.J. flicked her fingers at him.
"And your sister, what can she do?”  P.J. asked.  She started to poke at me with searching fingers, her face folded in concentration.  I pushed her hands away.
"Keep her hands to herself.  Will you help us or not?” P.J. gave me a long look and I regretted my temper.  I'd really blown it.
"When do we leave?” she said.
         
 
 
 
PART FOUR
 
SHIFTED
 
 
 
 
Chapter Eighteen
Kiss Crazy
 
 
 Rigel met up with us a couple of blocks from The Crimson on Bryn Mawr Avenue .  He took one look at Daray's blistered hands and glared at me.
"I didn't mean to.”  I mumbled, returning his glare.
"You're one hot chick, Ascher,” Rigel said.  I frowned at his lame joke.
"If you're quite done flirting with Miss Rafferty, I would appreciate your Cure crafting expertise,” Daray said.  Rigel's face turned white and he swallowed.
"Yes, Sire.”  He gingerly touched Daray's palms, whispering strange words under his breath.  Fawne steered me away from them and back to P.J.
"She's done with mine, but she needs to finish yours up,” Fawne said.  P.J. smiled and brushed her thumbs over my cheeks.  Fawne had the most basic glamour which made her look the same, but appear as a vamp instead of a werewolf.
"Since when does Ray Ray care who Rigel flirts with?”  P.J. said.  She was putting the final changes on the glamour that made me look like Dionysia.  It felt like she was smoothing cool clay over my face.  She had already cast a glamour over Daray to make him look like Dionysia's boyfriend, Clive- a human Dionysia vamped in the late 1800s.
Daray  thought it would be a good idea for us to walk the rest of the way to the club to give the appearance that the two of us had Shadowshifted, a power all vampires have to turn into shadow and materialize anywhere at will.  P.J. gave my face one last poke with her finger and stood back to admire her handiwork before moving on to Rigel.  With the limo gone, I had nowhere to sit, so I leaned against the sharp bark of a nearby tree to rest.
After a few minutes of face pinching, P.J. ran her fingers through her hair and frowned.  "Sorry, Rigel.  This isn't going to work,”  P.J. said.  "I haven't cast a glamour in a long time and it's just too hard to hold all four of you.  I'll have to cast an immersion glamours over you."
"What'll that do? “  I asked.
"If anyone looks at Rigel, he'll just blend in with his surroundings like a chameleon; it's a sort of camouflage.  I was going to just spell myself with the immersion glamour, but it should work for the two of us,”  P.J. explained.
"Why can't we all just go in like that?”  I said.  Everyone turned to look at me.
"Among other reasons.  We'd never get passed the guards,” Daray said. 
Oh.
"It's no big,” Fawne said.  "Anything that'll help us get the drop on the vamps.  I'm all about the offense anyway."
"Not tonight, Fawne.  You are going in there as a servant to Dionysia and you are to act like one.  Tonight you are only to defend yourself, Gemma and Ascher.  You're to keep the damages done to the vampires to a minimum,” Daray said.  Fawne smiled as he had just made a joke, but Daray looked serious.  "I'm not kidding around, Fawne.  I am giving you a direct order to only strike if your life is in imminent danger.  You're to use your weapons to repel the vampires, not hurt them."
"Not hurt them?  Not hurt them!” I said.  "These…things kidnapped my sister.  In addition, that vampire Savian bit her!  They'll be lucky if I leave most of them intact."
"And what if Gemma is caught in the middle?  What then?” 
  I narrowed my eyes at him and rubbed my palms up and down the scratchy material of my dress. 
"This is a rescue mission, Ascher, not a siege.  I am taking a huge risk tonight meddling with the affairs of a Master Vampire to save your sister.  Taking Gemma from him will be considered a huge insult and I won't risk adding injury to it!”  Daray said.  I mumbled my agreement, but knew I could not keep my promise.
If the Master Vampire wanted Gemma, enough to take her in the first place, what would stop him from coming after us again?  No, this would not be just a rescue mission.  I had to make sure that Savian Radbourne would not come after us and the only way I could be positive he would not is if he were dead.  Daray gave me a hard look, an eyebrow raised in question.
"Alright, fine.  I get it!”  I said.  Fawne came over to me and patted me on the shoulder.
"To make certain this rescue will run as smoothly as possible I want everyone to be sure of the plan.  Now, Persephone Jasmine…"
"P.J.,” P.J. said.  Daray swept his fingers at P.J. in a dismissive gesture and continued.
"…will continue casting the glamours over Ascher and myself until we have Gemma safely back in the limo.  The driver is meeting us at the rear entrance of the club which can be reached through the emergency exit located just behind the bar. Rigel, Fawne and- P.J., two of you are to remain with Ascher at all times no matter what happens. Is that understood?" Rigel bobbed his head in agreement and Fawne rolled her shoulders like she was stretching her muscles.
"Got it," Fawne said.
"Ascher, all you have to remember is to carry yourself with authority and act as though you are used to giving orders and having them obeyed. If, for any reason, you feel like you're about to lose control over your powers or give yourself away, you're to excuse yourself and go somewhere private until you calm yourself."
"Okay," I said.
"Fine then. My contact at The Crimson will be meeting us in…" Daray checked his watch, "About ten minutes. You may do as you wish until then, but we're all to stay within six-feet of each other."
P.J. sat on a flattened patch of grass, her fingers playing with the sparse grass. Rigel rifled through his messenger bag as though he was making sure he had everything he needed. I said a silent prayer that he did. Fawne crouched next to P.J. and patted the grass beside her, but I shook my head no. There was something I'd been avoiding doing. Now that we were so close to ending this nightmare, I wanted to thank the person, warlock or not, responsible for helping me save Gemma.
"Um, Daray. Can I talk to you for a second?" I asked.
"Of course. What can I do for you?" He said. Feeling like crap for being so snippy with him, I let out a sharp laugh.
"What can you…that's just it. You've done so much already. I mean, with training me and getting P.J. and everything. I, I…" I sniffled back a hysterical sob that threatened to escape. "I just really, really appreciate it and I can't thank you enough." I lunged forward and wrapped him in a huge bear hug. His body went rigid for a long moment before he relaxed into it, patting my back like he wasn't used to shows of affection and didn't know quite how to react.
Daray dropped his arms and cleared his throat Tears stinging my cheeks, I pulled away from him, feeling about as welcome as the plague.
"It's no imposition, I assure you and I appreciate the sentiment," he said. I blinked at him and swallowed, my face beginning to burn for showing so much emotion in front of someone with the emotional capacity of a mechanical pencil. I started to walk away, but before I'd taken two steps, Daray caught my left hand and squeezed it.
The heat from his skin warmed my hand and sent shivers throughout my body. A vein of blue electricity sparked from his palm and I gasped as my fire flared up to meet it, turning my flame from ruby red to amethyst as my magic mixed with his own. He bent over my hand and brushed his lips over my skin.
As he rose, I was surprised that I wanted to kiss him back. He watched me, his silver-blue eyes seeming to search mine. His face lowered over mine and I leaned forward to kiss him, the second boy I'd ever kissed in as many days. I guess finding out I'm a warlock with superpowers was making me kiss-crazy. Just as his lips touched mine, someone coughed.
"Forgive me, my Lady. I seem to have arrived at a bad time." My eyes sought the owner of the voice who'd interrupted us and remained hidden in the darkness of the woods. Cherry Cough Syrup a.k.a. Emily the uber-bitch was kneeling in the dirt, her eyes flicking from Daray back to me.
"You!" I said. Cherry Cough Syrup looked up at me, her face pale in the moonlight.
"Yes, my Lady?" Cherry said. Daray gripped my wrist roughly.
"Hey! That girl, she's…" I began.
"…late. I know, but perhaps you'll pardon her just this once, Dionysia. After all, she's just a silly little girl. Is it the child's fault her master sent her to meet us?" Daray said. I snapped my mouth shut and glared at Cherry who fell into an exaggerated bow.
"She's the contact?" I said.
"Something like that," Daray said. I felt Fawne and P.J. at my back and sighed, my thoughts turning wicked. I had to make nice with Cherry long enough to get to Gemma, but that didn't mean I couldn't have fun doing it.
"I understand." I said to Cherry. "You're just a baby, really. You're forgiven for your lateness." When Cherry didn't get up from her bow, it occurred to me that she was waiting for my permission. "Um. You may…get up." I said, stifling a laugh.
This was just too much fun .
"How old are you, anyway? Eighteen? Nineteen?" I asked.
"Seventeen," Cherry said.
"Oh, how adorable!" I said, imitating the same tone she'd used to belittle me.
"May I escort  you to my Master?" Cherry asked. I smiled at her, knowing she could see the fatal points of my glamour-spelled teeth.
"Lead the way," I said.
                                     
                            
 
Chapter Nineteen
Demented Dress-Up
 
 
After a brief hike through the woods, and more than one muttered curse to the inventor of the stiletto, we arrived at The Crimson. Cherry led us through a spelled third entrance that appeared only after she placed the flat of her palm against the brick side of the building.
"Reveal their true selves," I whispered as we stepped into the inky dark of the hallway. P.J. had told me to recite the words when stepping over the threshold of the doorway. The spell was short-term, but would allow me to see the auras of those around me, letting me know who was a vampire and who wasn't. Most vampires had this ability to some degree, but Dionysia was an expert at identifying those of her kind.
P.J. told me vampires have violet auras, witches have yellow, warlocks red and werewolves black. Shifters glow blue and humans’ auras are usually a cloudy silver.
As I looked back at Fawne, Rigel and Daray, I found this to be true, but P.J.'s aura glowed orange. That's weird I thought. I told myself I'd ask her about it later. Right now, there were more important things to worry about.
The magic around us felt heavy and liquid. I guessed it was from so many spells working all at once. I stumbled against the magic and felt the invisible hands of one of my bodyguards on my back. Daray offered me his arm and I took it as I struggled to keep from falling Daray had warned me that I might be more affected by the magic because my own powers had been awakened only days before.
Except for Fawne, the others had been around magic all their lives. Overtime I began to lose consciousness; Daray would steady me against the solid brace of his arm, keeping me from sliding to the floor.
Only minutes had passed, but my body felt sore and stiff. Each of my movements was slowed like I was struggling to run while submerged in water. I glanced at Daray whose face appeared sculpted; the flames from candles ensconced in the walls making him look even more handsome and unnatural. We came to a steep staircase and he whispered to the others to go on ahead of us.
"What is it?" I said.
"We haven't even entered the club yet and you're already weak. I'm going to shift some of my energy to you so that you'll be able to face Savian." Daray's long ash-blonde bangs fell across his eyes and he pushed me backwards, pinning me against the wall.
"What are...?" Daray smashed his mouth against mine and I felt a warm pressure enter my lungs and surge throughout my body. He stepped back, gasping for air.
"I'm sorry." He said. It was so not what I expected to hear after being kissed. "There are less…physical ways to shift energy, but I thought this would be the least time consuming." Great.
"Well, I'm glad to help keep us on schedule." I said. I shoved him away from me, feeling insulted and embarrassed. Heaven forbid he kiss me because he wanted to.
"That's not what I…"
"We don't have time for this." I hurried after the others, not knowing if Daray was behind us and not really caring. Cherry grabbed at a pair of doorknobs and pushed, her entire body working to open the heavy doors. I noticed her aura was a dingy gray. After all her posturing, she was just human.
I winced as light poured into the hallway and just managed to keep myself from shielding my eyes. Taking the lead, I stepped through the entryway and cast my gaze over the half-empty booth in front of me. We were upstairs, in the balcony of The Crimson where Gemma and I had sat.
Gemma.
My eyes continued to search for her among those seated at the table. She wasn't there. Savian locked eyes with me and smiled, flashing his pointed fangs. He was dressed in a red dress-coat like they wore in the Revolutionary War. Black pants tucked into tall, black boots and a puffy pirate shirt completed his look. Cliché-much?
Cadence wore a black, velvet cat-suit and a vaguely familiar man at the edge of the table whose back was facing me was clothed only in fitted black jeans and a black leather jacket. Super. I was wearing a corseted, black ball gown and standing next to a boy wearing a black tuxedo with a cranberry-colored shirt. If I were an outsider looking in, I would think we were all in the middle of a game of demented dress-up.
"Lady Dionysia, you've chosen to grace us with your presence weeks earlier than expected," Savian said.
"Yes, well. My beloved heard of your new pet and wanted to see what all the fuss was about." Daray said. I was just about to elbow him for calling Gemma a pet and for the cutesy names when I remembered he was pretending to be Clive.
"Ah, yes. The feline-shifter. She'll be with us shortly. Won't you have a seat?" Savian snapped his fingers and the man at the end of the table turned to look at us.
"I trust you remember Fiske."
That's where I knew him from!
Fiske was the grabby werewolf. He smiled at me, rose to his feet and bowed. Savian gave me a similar greeting as he stepped out from behind the table, giving me the perfect angle to kick his face in, should the opportunity arise. Cadence curtsied and Savian kissed the back of my hand, his lips cold as death against my skin.
"I'm sorry about the décor. I would have liked to greet you with a far more extravagant reception, but I do have your favorite on tap," Savian said.
On tap?
"A-positive, is her favorite, but she does so hate the tranquilizer- aftertaste," Daray said. It took me a moment to realize they were talking about blood and when I did, I felt the blueberry scone from earlier begin to churn in my stomach. "Or, perhaps you would like a cranberry juice?" Daray said. I swallowed.
"And a large, pitcher of ice," I said.
"Emily, fetch what Lady Dionysia has requested along with several glasses of A- positive for the rest of us." Emily scurried away and I slipped into the booth, Savian slid next to me, followed by Cadence and Fiske. Daray sat to my right. The glamours cast by P.J. continued to keep her, Fawne and Rigel from being noticed. "Cadence- will you be a dear and go get the feline-shifter for me?" I gritted my teeth and dug my nails into the leather of the booth to keep from screaming "her name is Gemma!"
Emily returned with a cranberry juice for me and a few glasses of what I prayed was V-8 juice for the others. She placed a silver ice bucket in front of me and curtsied before walking, backwards, out through the double doors we'd entered through. When I turned back to Savian, he was tilting the remainder of the red liquid into his mouth. He let out a refreshed sound like a thirsty person after a tall glass of water and smiled, his teeth tinged pink.
"It's not the best stuff, but it keeps the hunger at bay," Savian said. "Ah, there she is." Cadence ushered Gemma towards the table and my eyes filled with tears at the sight of her. She was dressed in a sleeveless scarlet dress, her hair twisted up to reveal twin sets of purple bruises on her throat that were scabbed over at the center. As I looked at her, I realized she'd been bitten multiple times.
My stomach twisted and I struggled to keep from vomiting. Her green eyes held the familiar spark of anger that had sent me fleeing to my room at age eight when I'd given all of her Barbie dolls a crew-cut. Fiske stood to let Gemma sit next to Savian who draped his arm around her shoulders like a happy kid with a stuffed animal won at a carnival.
"Look at me, girl,” Savian said. He caught Gemma's gaze and she blinked, her eyes suddenly blank. Savian met my eyes, his own heavy-lidded with a hunger in them that made my heart beat savagely against my chest. He extended her arm to me and smiled. "Care for a drink?"
 
 
 
Chapter Twenty
Fanged Femme Fatale
 
 
I stared at him and fought my power back as it flared against my palms, nearly singing the material of my dress.
"I really don't have much of an appetite," I said. Savian shrugged and lifted Gemma's wrist to his mouth. I was on my feet, lunging across the table and angling to tear her away from him when Savian stopped and sniffed at the air.
"Is something burning?" He asked. I slumped back into the seat, tucking my hands behind my back. I balled them into fists, waiting for the icy feeling of my power to go away. Daray reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a silky handkerchief, pressing it into my hands. His fingers flexed and the ice bucket slid in front of me, pouring  melting ice into my lap. I placed my hands on the ice, and Daray fanned me with the handkerchief to hide the rising steam.
"Please allow me to help you freshen up a bit," Fawne said. She started to steer me away from the table, but I wasn't letting Gemma out of my sight.
"I'm fine," I said. Fawne pointed at my skirt which was covered in blistered lace.
"I won't leave her," I said in a voice so low I wasn't sure if Fawne could hear me.
"Fine, then. I'll show you the bathroom and come right back, okay?" Fawne said. I rolled my eyes and let her lead me back towards the entryway and behind the red curtains of the balcony. Absently, I realized P.J. and Rigel were just behind us. Fawne knocked on a huge, black door before shooing me inside. "You have to pull yourself together, girl."
"I know. I know," I said.
"I'll have Rigel stay with you, okay?" I closed the door and rolled my eyes. It was nice that Fawne was so concerned for me, but it felt like I was being babysat. I twisted the knob for the cold water and stuck my hands against the cool marble of the sink.
I stared at a reflection that wasn't mine and lifted my upper lip so I could see the points of my canines. With the raven hair, black dress and translucent skin, I looked like some kind of fanged femme-fatale.
Taking deep breaths, I closed my eyes and concentrated on reigning in my power. Steam rose to my face as my hands reacted to the water. I breathed in the damp air and sighed.
Ascher .
Someone was whispering my name.
Ascher .
I glanced up at the mirror and saw Elliot's reflection. I spun around to face him and felt two hands grab me under the arms and lift me off my feet, towards the sink. I gritted my teeth, expecting to be slammed against the sink mirror, but I found myself being pulled into a world of swirling mists of fog and dark shadows.
The only light came from the mirror opening that led to the bathroom. It emitted just enough light for me to see Elliot staring back at me.
"Geez, Elliot! Why can't you just say hi like a normal person?" I said. Elliot cocked his head to the right and smiled wryly.
"I needed to see you," he said.
"Well, fine, but can't you just knock or clear your throat or…"
"It's a trap," Elliot interrupted.
"What's a trap?"
"This supposed rescue mission Prince Daray has arranged," he said.
"Why would you say that?" 
"Your sister's power makes her too valuable to Savian. If Daray were to steal a possession of such worth, it would be considered an act of war. There's no way he'd risk war just to save some random girl," Elliot said. I narrowed my eyes.
"She's not…"
"…a random girl to you, I know, but Prince Daray isn't known to get involved in acts of charity. He hopes to gain something from his kindness or he would never chance angering the Master Vampire of Chicago."
"But, we're covered in glamour spells. Savian will think she was taken by another vampire. He won't even know that Daray helped us," I said.
"You're covered in Glamours?" Elliot said. I nodded. "He's lying to you.. The only warlock capable of that type of magic is his own cousin who he had exiled three years ago."
"Whatever. I just want to get my sister, get the hell out of here and get on with my life."
"There's no way Daray will allow it," Elliot said.
"Then I guess it's a good thing that he has no say in what I do."
"I suppose you think he's helping you in kindness? The only reason he's helping you is because he thinks he'll gain something in return."
"And what exactly do you hope to gain by telling me all this?" I asked. Elliot gave me a wicked smile.
"A moment alone with you."
"Yeah, right." I started towards the mirror portal, my feet making suctioning sounds against the smoke-hidden ground. Elliot materialized in front of me, his expression one of anger. He spun me in a circle into his arms and bent me back like he was dipping me in dance. His lips on mine were harsh, a desperation making his kiss almost painful.
"I could keep you here with me if I wanted to, trap you in the shadows of Time for an eternity," he said. I had nothing to say to that, so I called my power into my hands and watched the scarlet sparks encircle his arms. I shoved away from him and ran to the portal. I could hear him behind me, close enough that his breath tickled the back of my neck. He was too close. I only had one choice.
I leapt up and threw myself through the portal, landing hard on my chin and the black marble of the bathroom floor. The door to the bathroom crashed open and I saw the ghostly images of Rigel and P.J. enter the room.
"What happened?" I couldn't tell who had spoken, the words a mere tickle across my mind. As I looked behind me, I saw that the mirror was intact and Elliot was nowhere in sight.
I started to tell them about Elliot, but remembered his warning about Daray. Some part of me trusted Elliot and I couldn't shake the feeling that there was some truth to his words. I had to find a way to get Gemma out of here and, unless I wanted to become a vampire-appetizer, I had to do it soon.
                                     
                            
 
Chapter Twenty One
Liar, Liar
 
 
Fawne stood outside the doors leading to the balcony, chipping at her of nail polish with her teeth.
"Who's with Gemma?" I asked.
"She's fine," Fawne said. When I tried to move closer to the door, Fawne put out her hand to block me and used the spiked heel of her black stiletto boot to knock. She was stalling. Not caring whether she was offended or not, I shoved Fawne away from the door and pushed into the VIP section of the balcony. My eyes darted around, searching for Gemma.
She was still in the booth with Cadence who patted her on the shoulder as though comforting her. Fiske was slumped backwards, his arms behind his head and his legs resting on the table. Savian had his back to me and was laughing at something Fiske was saying. Daray's attention turned to me and he smiled.
"Ah, Dionysia, after you," Daray said, standing. I heard the sharp click of Fawne's heels behind me and felt her hands on my back. I reached out to my sister, but she shrank back, terrified. Mentally scolding myself for forgetting the glamour, I moved a few inches away from Gemma to make her more comfortable.
I noticed Savian staring at me and frowned before I could stop myself. He smiled, flicking the tips of his fangs with his tongue.
"Verywell. Now we can deal with some business matters. If we can all please…" Savian said.
"I think it's best if we just get this over with as soon as possible," Daray said.
"As you wish," Savian said. My frown deepened.
"Get what over with?" I asked, my patience bordering on non-existent.
"The exchange," Daray said.
"Will someone just tell me what's happening?" I said.
"Hey!" P.J. materialized, her glamour gone and her voice tight with anger. Rigel was behind her, his hands covering the top of her forehead. "Rigel, get off of me! Ray, what the hell are you doing?" She shrieked.
 Daray helped Rigel force P.J. into the booth, his hand placed on the top of her head. Daray's glamour disappeared, a warm rush of air flowed around me.
 I was already on my feet and half-way across the table to help pull Rigel away from P.J. when Fawne yanked me back, using my own momentum to throw me into the seat. P.J. screamed as a neon-yellow light pulsed around her.
"Ascher?" Gemma said. "Ascher? Is it really you? Blinking back tears, I stretched my arm and grasped my sister's hand, giving it a small squeeze. The loud shrill of P.J.'s screams cut through the balcony. Gemma seemed to notice P.J. for the first time. "What are they doing to her?" She asked in a small voice.
"What is this, Daray? Rigel? What are you doing?" I said.  Savian's gaze focused on me and he smiled.
"Oh, none of that," Savian said. "Your Prince is merely fulfilling his, how do you say, 'end' of the bargain. The ability to charm others with Glamour Magic is a rarity, much like the power to shift into the form of a cat. So, you see what's happening?" I didn't.
"Daray is shifting P.J's powers into Savian," Fawne said. "In exchange for the release of your sister." The neon light around P.J. was circling through the air surrounding Savian in its ethereal glow. P.J. moaned.
"You're killing her!" I said.
"Rigel's magic will keep her from dying," Fawne said, her voice empty of emotion. "She'll survive the night."
You won't I thought. She'd lied to me, they'd all lied, saying they wanted to help Gemma. Why had I believed them? I felt stupid and ashamed. How had I let myself be so easily taken in by them? It occurred to me that Daray would probably try to take my power, too and maybe Gemma's. No. I wouldn't let that happen. This was going to end now.
I used my grip on Gemma's hand to pull her under the table and focused on calling my fire. My powers worked better when I was angry so I closed my eyes and thought about the past few days and all my sister and I had been through. The memories flitted through my mind, each one fuel for the magic building inside of me.
When I thought I would burst from all the power, I held my hands, palms outstretched, over the table, watching with wonder as the magical fire ignited from within me and poured over the table. The others began to scream, their cries mixing with those of their victim. A surge of power swelled in my chest, making it difficult to breathe.
I dove under the table and crawled towards the other side of the booth where an opening led beyond to the floor. Just as we'd reached the end of the table, I felt a strange magic prickle against me like fingers tickling the back of my neck.
"Ascher," Daray's voice was calm- deadly calm "You won't escape me." He sounded so sure of his victory over us, I had to remind myself that Gemma and I were getting away.
"Escape from this!" I said, tossing a fireball over my shoulder. I heard him curse and smiled. Bulls-eye.
I reached Gemma and scrambled to my feet, my sister pulling me by the arm. I rushed for the staircase that led to the lower floor, but Gemma yanked me back.
"There's too many of them down there. We have to find another way," she said.
"Here!" I said. We rushed towards the hallway that led passed the private bathroom, our desperation to escape forcing us to move fast. We ran blindly, not really knowing where to go. When we reached a hallway lined with heavy black curtains, I cried out.
 The exit I'd used with the others was gone!
 Footsteps pounded the floor behind us. This was it. Gemma and I would be trapped here, at the mercy of nightmarish creatures whose purpose with us we could only begin to guess.
"They'll kill us!" Gemma cried. I bit the inside of my cheek. No, not us. Just me. I shoved Gemma behind the curtains.
"Run. I'm just behind you," I lied. Hiding between the suffocating layers of velvet, I listened to the sound of my sister's footsteps growing softer. I heard a crisp tearing noise to my left and spun around to see what had caused it when something hard hit the back of my neck. My legs felt unsteady and I stumbled, tangling myself with the curtains.
The heel of my shoe caught on the bottom of the panel making my ankle twist with a sick snap. My knees struck the floor and I clenched my jaw to not give whoever was behind me the satisfaction of hearing my cries. A deep, throaty chuckle vibrated through the air, hot breath misting my face. Two glowing eyes watched me, a pair of tiny flames in the blackness.
                                               
 
 
Chapter Twenty Two
Wrestling with Werewolves
 
 
A heavy weight pinned me to the floor. I tried to call my fire, but my arms were seized and pressed over my head, leaving me without the aid of my magic.
Oh, crap.
I heard a small click and the flame from a lighter sparked over the face of my attacker. Fiske sat on my legs, grinning down at me like a bloodhound with a prize fox caught between its teeth. I struggled against his weight, but he held me to the floor with one hand.
Damn it! I barred my teeth and glared at him.
"Get off of me!" I said. He lowered his face and sniffed at my neck.
"You got to love the smell of terror. It makes the meat all the sweeter," he said. I head butted him in the face and jerked my legs to the side. "Feisty little thing," he said. I pressed my nails into his palm.
"There's no need for that, I'm not gonna eat you." I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. "No, it will be much more fun to make you a werewolf." The skin on his face rippled causing tufts of black fur to sprout from his face.  “It'll just take a minute 'til I'm shifted and then we're good to go," Fiske said.
Flashing me one last saliva- slathered smile, he stood,  flicked the lighter off and left me lying in the dark. Too afraid to move, I started to call for help, but he slapped his hand, now a paw over my mouth.
"This should hurt quite a bit," he said. I braced myself for the pain of his bite. The curtains behind us yanked apart, the light of a candle filtering into the dark. Fawne stared at us, a look of disgust on her face.
"Son of a bitch!" Fawne said. She launched herself over me and seized Fiske by the hair. He yelped and turned on her. His teeth tore into her arm, forcing her to drop the candle. I was careful not to make a sound as I inched away. Wrestling with werewolves was something I, so, did not want to do. The curtains tangled with my limbs, slowing my movement.
When I was sure they weren't paying attention to me, I used the curtains to pull myself to my feet. My knuckles grazed the brick wall that was in front of me, shrouded by the plush curtains. I held my scratched-up knuckle to my mouth and sucked on the metallic taste of the cut before I realized what I was doing.
"Ugh." I felt disgusted with myself even though I'd done the same thing since I was a little kid. The palms of my hands suddenly felt cold and I could sense my magic surfacing like the beads of blood dotting my knuckles. My back tensed as I sensed someone watching me.
I flattened myself against the wall and held my breath. Maybe they hadn't seen me. Maybe I could still find a way to get Gemma out of here. Sharp nails stabbed into my neck and I was thrown past my hiding spot into a lightness room. Maybe I was S.O.L.
"Ow!" I landed on someone or, given where I was, more likely something. The sound of a door being closed came from the shadows and I felt someone grab my wrist. I raised my arm to slap their hand away.
"It's me, Asch." My sister put her arm around me and gripped my right shoulder. I felt my magic surge to the surface and I struggled to channel it somewhere away from us. Raising my left palm to the ceiling, I imagined my fire swirling over us like an deadly chandelier. Light illuminated the room and I blinked, my eyes watering at the brightness.     
"Oh, Asch! That was so cool! How did you…" Gemma made a choking sound.
"Are you okay?" I asked. I could see her now. Her face was suspended in a look of horror. I knew I didn't want to see whatever caused such terror, but I couldn't stop myself. Along the walls were at least six cots where blanketed figures lay. Beeping machines attached under the blankets, some connected to bags of fluids like I'd seen at the hospital. Each bed was hooked up to two plastic pouches filling, drip by drip, with what looked an awful lot like blood.
"What is this?" I asked.
"On-tap blood. You girls are in Savian's wine cellar." Cadence smiled at us and clasped her hands together. "Let's get on with this, shall we?" Cadence said. I readied a fireball, but, before I could release it, Cadence flicked her fingers at me and I floated into the air, the fire in my hand extinguished. Gemma peered at me from a crouch on the floor, her eyes shifting into cat-form. She hissed at Cadence who made a sweeping gesture, bringing my sister into the air beside me.
We floated backwards until we reached a small window about ten feet up from the floor towards the back of the room. The glass shattered, but remained air-born, pouring out into the night. I looked a question at Cadence.
"Get out. Now," Cadence said. The door behind her splintered in the middle as something large and heavy smashed into it from the other side. Gemma grabbed for the window and pulled herself out, still supported by the invisible force.
"Why are you helping us?" I asked. Cadence lowered her eyes to the floor and bit her lower lip.
"Savian's blood made me a vampire, but the magic I was born into makes me a witch." She gave me a tight smile "I suppose he'll exile me for this. What a pity."
A strong wind pushed me through the window until I was suspended next to Gemma over an alley. Rainwater pooled in filthy puddles next to a dumpster bulging with garbage so rank I could smell from twelve feet in the air. A wolf howled from somewhere in the building and the glassless window frame slammed shut.
"What now?" Gemma asked. I lifted my shoulders in a shrug just as the magic released us and gravity recaptured us with a vengeance.
"Aim for the dumpster! Get to the garbage!" Gemma shouted. She gave me one hard shove and I flapped my arms towards the dumpster hoping her idea would work. The ground rushed towards me and I panicked, sending fire magic into the puddles of rain and making them boil. I was going to miss the dumpster! My upper body slammed against the side of the dumpster, knocking me onto the slimy concrete. I tried to breath, but I couldn't take any air into my lungs. I think my ribs were cracked.
Gemma landed on her feet beside me and reached for me with a clawed hand. Her nose and mouth were pulled together, a muzzle forming. She said something to me, but I couldn't hear her. I could feel my pulse in my temple and a piercing buzz filled my ears.
Rigel appeared from behind the dumpster and Gemma was already turning to fight him. He put his hands behind his back and said something to Gemma. He pointed to me as he spoke.  Gemma nodded and let Rigel walk past her.
I wriggled to get away from him, my eyes asking Gemma the questions I couldn't. Rigel placed one hand against my forehead and one against my chest. He's going to steal my power I thought. A warmth seeped from his hands into my head and chest and I gasped. I could breathe! My head was no longer throbbing and my ribs didn't ache. Rigel had healed me. I darted looks around the alley and let Gemma helped to my feet.
"Uh, thanks," I said, still unsure of his purpose. The corner of his mouth twitched.
"It's what I do," he said.
"Are you gonna let us go?" Gemma asked. Rigel frowned.
"That's not really up to me, girls. I heal. I don't hunt." The howling of wolves poured into the night. Rigel cupped a hand behind his ear and grinned. "But they do."                                                    
 
 
 
Chapter Twenty Three
Nice Kitty
 
 
"C'mon!" Gemma grabbed my hand and pulled me after her, the thick padding on the palm of her hand felt both comforting and alien. I lifted my eyes to the moon which disappeared behind the smoke-gray clouds of the city. Shades of pink and purple peeked over the horizon like a timid bruise.
Gemma moaned and doubled-over as fur grew in patches over her arms and legs, the slinky red material of her dress tearing like tissue. I patted her on the back, whispering that everything was okay even though I really didn't think it was. I could here the howling of the werewolves grow louder as they approached. The last of the change took over her body, forcing her onto her hands and knees until the transformation was complete.
My sister regarded me with predatory eyes, but I knew the underlying threat was a promise made to others. I patted my thigh to tell Gemma to come with me before I noticed what I was doing and rolled my eyes. Gemma nipped me gently with her knife-like teeth and butted my hand with her head as if scolding me.
"Sorry," I whispered. "Come on, Gem." We ran fast, not caring if we ended up in the wrong part of the city as long as we lost the werewolves. Although, I don't think anyone would attack a girl out for a morning jog with her panther. I smiled at the thought and glanced to my right where Gemma's movement slowed. Something on Gemma's neck glinted in the dim light cast by the overhead street-lamps
The long beads of the necklace she'd worn now fitted her like a choker. I reached towards the necklace and felt a jolt of electricity as a bolt of blue light exploded behind us, hitting Gemma. She made a pained mewling sound and picked up her left rear paw. Anger overcame me and my magic stirred through my limbs.
Daray stood about a block away, the huddled shapes of two werewolves slinking behind him. I called the fire up to my palms and threw several magical red spheres, but they only covered half the distance to Daray before falling to the wet concrete and sizzling to a rest in puddles of rainwater.
"Crap." I held my palms out and breathed in, closing my eyes and concentrating on directing my power. Go to him. Take them. I thought. The force of my magic knocked me back as it left my body.
I opened my eyes and saw Daray and one of the werewolves slapping at a wall of flames as it licked over them. Gemma rubbed her cheek against the lace of my skirt and growled softly. Another zigzag of cobalt light caught Gemma in the shoulder and at least ten more bolts headed towards us, snaking through the air like vines.
"Run!" I cried. Gemma's lope was slow and clumsy as she turned and ran. I followed behind her, but covered only half a block before Daray's magic seized me. His power was liquid warm and just as heavy. My body dropped as the sensation of being dipped in a thick vat of honey enveloped me. Everything seemed to slow except for the blurry shapes moving in the distance.
Forcing myself to fight through Daray's spell, I held on to Gemma's collar and used her strength to help pull myself up. She dragged me towards a dimly lit alley on our left and came to a stop next to a dumpster overflowing with soggy wooden boards and other construction material. Gemma sank to the pavement, an oil slick left over from local traffic throwing prisms of rainbow colors over her sleek black fur. Her whiskers tickled over my face and I felt tears sting my cheeks. She nuzzled the back of my hand with her mouth and then passed out, her breath puffing out in rapid heaves.
"I'm so sorry Gemma. So sorry," I said. This was it, it was over. The only one of us with the ability to use offensive and defensive magic was me and I didn't feel up to a round of thumb-wrestling. I could see the sun more clearly now, the orange and red of the sunrise bleeding through the night's clouds, staining them with color. My eyes turned from the warmth of the rising sun and settled on the corner of the alley where shuffled footsteps halted and an unearthly howl erupted into the dawn.
Using the last of my strength, I pushed Gemma off of my lap and used the chain-link fence behind me to help myself up. I ran towards the place where the howl came from and prayed I could distract Daray and his wolves long enough for Gemma to wake up and escape. The werewolves were just entering the alley when I stumbled past them in a stilted lope, leading them across the street. I ran for a tiny tree-deprived park with bright plastic playground equipment arranged in colorful shapes.
One of the werewolves jumped at my back, knocking me to the ground. The sound of Daray cursing was followed by an injured yelp from one of the wolves. A shadow came closer with hurried footsteps and I was, suddenly, in Daray's arms. When I tried to shove him away from me, he pressed me against his body in a backwards hug and made shushing noises.
"Fawne, get the car. Now! Leave Fiske where he is, I told him not to touch her," Daray smoothed the side of my face with his hand. "I just want to help you, Asch. I'm not going to hurt you unless you make me!" His breath was hot against my neck, his lips fluttering over my hair as he spoke. When I didn't respond, he shook me. "Asch, just do as I say, okay? I want to help you, that's all. Okay, Asch?"
"Don't call me that!" I snarled. His grip on my arms grew painful and he spun me to face him. I tried to burn him with my hands, but he held my wrists away from us. A flicker of blue light shot from his fingertips and I felt my body sway as he shifted energy from me and into himself. Pain sparked over me and he let go of my hands, his eyes bled bluer than was humanly possible and he gazed out at me from two sapphire orbs.
"I've never felt a power as purely raw as yours." He panted. "Your magic is a true mate to mine just as you are to me."
Warlock say what?
"Your mate? Get real, Daray," I said. His power grew around me. I could feel it reaching towards me, threatening to destroy me if I resisted.
"I am Daray Valerian, Prince of Warlocks, it is my right to choose any warlock I see fit to be my bride and I've made my choice," he said.
"Okay, first of all, I'm fifteen so this is so not going to happen. Second of all, I'm not even a full warlock, you said so yourself. I'm half witch. And, third, you're a cruel, evil, son of a bitch and I'd rather die than even kiss you, let alone marry you."
"You're being of mixed-blood is of no consequence. It's obvious through your powers that you're more warlock than anything else. Unlike your sister who favors her witch-blood as a feline-shifter," he said. "I can teach you to use your powers in ways you've never imagined. I am the key to unlocking the powers your family has kept from you in their witch-ignorance. Now, come. The car is waiting for us and we have much to do before the ceremony."
"The ceremony?" I asked, disbelieving his nerve.
"I assume you'll want to be involved in the plans for your own wedding?" Daray asked.
                                     
 
Chapter Twenty Four
Bite Me
 
 
He wrapped one arm around my waist and used the other to hold my wrists together. My mind raced as I tried to figure out my next move and then I saw Gemma. She was still across the street, but she was awake, standing and watching Daray and I. I had to stall until she came close enough to attack.
"You said you'd help me. How can I trust you after what I saw you do to P.J., your own cousin?" I asked. Daray let go of my waist and cupped my face with his hand, holding me like a prize he'd already won.
"I have helped you. Persephone Jasmine shunned the gifts her warlock blood granted her. I bargained the power that was unwanted and wasted by her to have your sister returned to you because I thought you'd be pleased," he said.
"Well, I…" I dropped my eyes to the pavement as if considering his words and strained to see where Gemma was hiding. She was closer now, but still too far away for me to chance running to her. Daray would have me before I'd gone five feet. "I am pleased. It's just that…everything is coming at me so fast. I mean, finding out I'm a warlock with super-powers and that you guys even exist. Vampires, werewolves, witches. And then, I mean, I haven't even really gone on a date and now you're talking about getting married. It's just too much," I said.
"You've never been on a date?" Daray asked. My face felt hot.
Nice, Ascher tell the psycho warlock all your innermost secrets
"I just want to go home," I said. Daray kissed my forehead.
"But you are home, with me," he said. "We'll be together, forever. I'll be your first date and your last." He whispered. I didn't like the underlying threat. Daray used his right hand to tilt my chin up and leaned down to kiss me, but I pulled away, revolted with the thought of his lips on mine. He seemed to sense my thoughts because his power prickled over my skin.
 "I'm, I'm sorry. It's just that, I'm shy," I said. I  leaned my body into him, my eyes promising things he'd never have. He released his grip and I smiled. I traced a finger down his throat and over his chest, walking coyly around him until his back was turned to Gemma. When he leaned in for the kiss, I pressed a finger against his lips.
"Could you close your eyes? I wouldn't feel so shy then," I lied. Daray smiled and made a show of closing his eyes. Gemma was almost here. Daray's hand on the back of my neck pulled me forward and I closed my eyes as our lips met. His magic mingled with the kiss, each press of his lips returning some small part of the energy he'd stolen from me.
He struggled to pull away from the kiss and stared at me through heavy-lidded eyes, his breath hot and ragged on my face. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Gemma,  her body tensed to pounce. I stepped backwards, calling my magic to my palm where it rested, waiting to be released.
Daray frowned and began to turn, but he was too late. As Gemma bit through his ankle and dragged him to the ground, I threw a fireball at his feet to keep him from running. Gemma leapt at his face, her fangs glinting with saliva. She was going to kill him.
"Gemma, no!" I shouted, but her teeth were already at his throat.
I dove forward and covered Daray's neck with my forearm. Gemma growled at me, but backed away, her eyes wary. Daray lifted his hand to my shoulder and I swayed as he shifted energy from me. Grinding my teeth against the pain, I dug my fingernails into his arm and held my right hand up, ready to release another fireball.
"Do that again and I tell my sister to bite," I said. Daray narrowed his eyes.
"Is this really necessary, Ascher? You can't get away from me. You know if you find a way to escape I'll just find another way to find you and to get what I want."
"Not this time, Daray. I saved your life. Gemma would've killed you if I hadn't stopped her. The way I see it, I just saved the life of the Prince of Warlocks and I'm going to cash in on my reward," I said.
"What. Do you want money?" Daray asked. I rolled my eyes.
"No. Fawne told me about how she saved your little sister in exchange for the Warlocks leading a raid on her captor's were pack. I want your word that you won't come after us if we let you go," I said. Daray's blue eyes searched mine.
"You won't let her kill me. I know you. I can see in your eyes that you don't have it in you to kill." Daray said. He tried to sit up and Gemma pounced, knocking him back with the weight of her front paws.
"You're right, Daray. I guess because of how I was raised, I'm too human to kill, but Gemma…she doesn't seem to be very human at all right now." Gemma growled and hissed as if emphasizing my point. "I never want to see you or your people again, or next time, you won't be walking away. Now, do you agree or does my sister have an early breakfast?"
"I know why you're really doing this, Ascher. I can feel your doubt. You can't bring yourself to harm me because you know you're my true mate and I'm yours." Daray said. "I agree to leave you and your sister to yourselves, but you'll be back, Ascher. Your magic is too powerful for you to control. I'm the only one who can help you reign it in and, deep down, you know it." I climbed to my feet and patted Gemma's back.
"Whatever. Since your so tight with the vampires and their Master, Savian, you can forward the message to them. I don't want to have anything to do with any of you or your world," I said.
"You'll come back, Ascher. And when you do, you'll be mine." Daray smiled up at me, his eyes glinting madly.
"Bite me," I said. "Come on, Gem. Let's go home."
                                     
                            
 
Chapter Twenty Five
Birthday Girl
 
 
Gemma and I were a block away from where she'd parked the car when I remembered we didn't have the keys and that the only one of us with a license was currently furry. There was a spare key under the floor mat on the driver's side, but the door was locked so I had to break the passenger side window with a piece of broken brick I found near the car.
Driving home was an adventure, to say the least. I managed to avoid getting in an accident, but I've never received the one-fingered salute so many times in my life. Not that I recommend driving without a license, but I really had no choice. I doubt Daray would've been in the mood to give us a lift and I wouldn't have fully trusted him to anyway.
Gemma shifted back to regular when we were almost home which startled me so much, I singed the fuzzy blue steering wheel cover with my magic. We pulled into the garage of our townhouse and Gemma waited in the car while I made sure it was clear for her to make a naked dash to her bedroom. As hard as it would've been to explain her panther form to our Grandma, I thought it would be equally as tough explaining why Gemma wasn't wearing any clothes at 7:39 on a Sunday morning.
Gemma slipped into some sweats, grabbed a freshly baked banana nut muffin from the kitchen and went to bed. Too exhausted to bother changing out of the black ball gown, I crashed on the floor of Gemma's bedroom. Just as I was falling asleep, my cat, Nicky climbed on top of me and kneaded my stomach with his paws.
"Meow. Meo-oww!" Nicky said. I patted his little black and white head and scratched him under his chin.
"Nicky," I said. "Your mama is an all-powerful, fire-shifting Warlock." Nicky purred, closed his eyes and rested his head on my chest. Obviously, he was unimpressed.
 
* * * *
 
Someone kissed me on my forehead and I jerked awake, putting my hands up to defend myself. My mother was standing over me, smiling.
"Good morning, birthday girl!" She said. I shoved my hands under my comforter to hide the smoke that was coming from my palms.
"What time is it?" I asked.
"About ten. I caught an early flight in because I missed you guys so much."
"We missed you too, Mommy," Gemma said.
"I still can't believe my baby is fifteen! Do you feel any older, Asch?" Mom asked. I glanced over my shoulder at my sister and smiled.
"A little," I said. Mom nodded.
"So, everything went alright? No problems? Nothing you want to tell me?" Mom asked. Gemma and I exchanged a look.
"Uh, not really, no," Gemma said.
"I think I'm going to go to my room and sleep for a little while," I said. As I stood, I realized my mistake. The smell of smoke filled the room and my mom frowned.
"You girls haven't been lighting candles have you, you know how dangerous that is," she said. I shook my head and gave my mom a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
"Love you, Mommy. 'Night."
"Ascher?" I turned back.
"Yeah, Mommy?"
"What are you wearing?" I looked down at the black ball gown all burnt, torn and covered in dirt. "You look like something the cat dragged in." I met Gemma's eyes and we burst out laughing.
You have no idea.