I started to pant. It didn’t help. I squeezed my left hand into a bloodless fist and distracted myself with my most potent memories. All of them dreams. All about William and R-rated.

  He wasn’t gone for long. He exited the magical door, and it disappeared into the bland white wall.

  He carried a bandage. It was large enough to cover my scratches. It… looked pretty normal, frankly. You might get it in the special aisle of a magical pharmacy.

  I frowned at it. I didn’t want to sound rude, but I still grunted, “Is that it?

  A knowing smile rumpled his lips. “For your specific ailment, it will work fine.”

  “Specific ailment?” Tension gripped my voice. It reminded me of when my physician, Doctor Hodgkins, tested me for magic.

  I’d ignored that memory for so long. Now it spun, slapped me, and told me to hold on for more bad news.

  “Specific ailment?”

  Either William didn’t know it was a question, or he didn’t hear properly.

  He walked over, prepared the bandage by ripping the plastic off and muttering something under his breath, then leaned down to apply it. He made eye contact just before gently gripping my left hand to hold it still and stretch the arm out. “I think you might be developing a reaction.”

  “To what?” My eyes darted left and right. They searched him for any sign he was about to pronounce me dead – or dying.

  He didn’t. He smiled. “It makes sense. Your body’s been exposed to too many violent vampire forces.” His voice changed and twisted with regret.

  I shook my head. “Huh?”

  “The incident with the tooth,” he clenched his own teeth, “probably tipped you over the edge. It’s an allergy. It’ll calm in time. Your body has recognized vampires as an allergen that must be fought.”

  I looked at him. I didn’t need a second opinion. I had one. He was wrong. I didn’t need to call on my intuition – I just knew it.

  The itch didn’t come because I was allergic to vampires. Why would it only appear on my left arm? Plus, I’d had it for over a whole month. That tooth had cut me only an hour ago.

  I didn’t say anything to William. When he decided on some theory like this, he’d get blockheaded. I didn’t need a fight right now. I did need the bandage.

  He might have misdiagnosed me – he still picked the proper treatment. As soon as it slid onto my skin and adhered, I felt a wave of soothing calm tickling along my forearm and down into my shoulder. I let out a sigh – not a moan. And I did it behind my hand, not in William’s face. “That feels much better.”

  “I told you. But you’ll have to be careful around vampires—”

  I frowned at him. “You’re a vampire. Does that mean I’m allergic to you?”

  “Allergic to parts of me, yes.”

  I don’t know what gargantuan effort allowed me not to react, but I just sat there until William said, “But there’s no way in hell I’d ever bite you, so that’s fine.”

  “Vampire… saliva?” I put two and two together.

  “After repeated exposure, some people can develop antibodies towards it. It’s just a natural body process.”

  “Oh,” I said. I unconsciously ran my hand over my throat.

  “You have been bitten – or half bitten – by a vampire before. The one who worked for John. Don’t worry,” William added again.

  He packed away the dressing wrapper, threw it in the bin, then stopped in the middle of the room.

  He wanted to say something, right? I needed to volunteer something, too. His theory was crap. I wasn’t allergic to vampire saliva. Why on earth would it only affect my arm?

  I was reacting to vampire symbols.

  The same symbols I’d seen dance over my flesh during one of my most notable dreams. William had knelt in his bedroom, ripping pages out of a book I hadn’t known existed then. He’d looked at me and begged me to be his bridge witch. Even thinking about it now made my hair stand on end.

  I sat straighter, heart pounding harder.

  William spun. “It’s alright. I will never let a vampire bite you.”

  I stared at him. I decided to tell him the truth but backed down. When William got overprotective like this, it was tough to help him see reason. I’d tell him, but he’d ignore it. I’d played this game before. Plus… I didn’t know how to break this to William. I’d had a dream where I’d seen a book that didn’t exist. That part was true. That book had later turned out to be real. Maybe it was in a painting somewhere and I’d glimpsed it. Perhaps it was just my intuition. But what about my arm itching? What did that mean? Vampire symbols only appeared on vampire stuff. It wasn’t just because vampires only wrote their language on their stuff like overprotective schoolchildren marking their hats, umbrellas, lunch boxes, and desks.

  I didn’t understand the magic, but it was foolproof. Vampire symbols couldn’t appear on something that didn’t belong to vampires. That wasn’t a part of them, that wasn’t… a vampire.

  I shook my head at that thought and slid off the table. I pretended to check on my dressing. Then I frowned. “What are we just doing here? We need to get out there, need to find Matthew and John—”

  “You’re going to stay here for a little bit.”

  I didn’t freak out. This could have started another argument. It should have. I still stood there, looked into his eyes, and said, “We’re better off together than we are apart.” I didn’t ask my voice to shake on the word together. It did it on its own. I started off confident, then felt like I tripped over some giant stone.

  No, not a stone. The truth. It pulsed in my heart and vibrated into my jaw, forcing my treacherous lips to twitch. We were better off together than we were apart. Mirabella and Argyle’s warning sprang through my head, echoing like a cry in an empty church. I could run off alone. I’d only ever get in trouble. Or I could wait and walk by William’s side.

  His eyes did this thing I couldn’t track. They shimmered with strange emotion. Then they waited like a hand in your pocket as you considered reaching out to someone.

  I couldn’t wait around for William forever. I slid past him, grabbed his elbow, and tugged him toward the door.

  He swung his head down, and his eyes locked on my face. I tingled at his attention. I almost turned to look up into his eyes, but his phone rang.

  His damn phone. He worked for the Enforcement Office, and the call would be significant. I still wanted to grab it from his hand and stamp on it 1000 times.

  I let his elbow go. When I stepped away, he shifted his weight until he moved closer. “William—” he began, about to begin his customary greeting of William here. He froze, his Adam’s apple half punched out, lips open wide. “Patricia—”

  I spun, cheeks paling. I pressed close, though it was pointless. I couldn’t hear past the sophisticated silence spells protecting William’s calls.

  His gaze locked on me. He shook his head once. Disappointment dripped through his expression.

  I winced, closed my eyes, clenched my teeth, and clawed my fingers into fists.

  Damn it. I’d acted as fast as possible. But it still wasn’t fast enough.

  “I see. We’ll investigate. We’ll be there shortly.” William ended the call and slid the phone into his pocket. “Patricia has been kidnapped,” he said gravely.

  “Didn’t witness protection get there fast enough?”

  “They did only to find out Patricia wasn’t where she was meant to be. Her brother,” he snarled, “bought her an apartment. A single room dive in the neighboring city of Fairpoint.”

  “We’re not talking about Jeffrey, are we?”

  He shook his head. “Mark. He had a controlling share of their father’s will.”

  “But Patricia owned her own house. Why would she rely on him?” I said that, then remembered the mayor’s warning. The family was twisted. But Patricia was friendly. Mark and Jeffrey’s lies had still trapped her.

  “By the sounds of it, Patricia evaded Mark. She returned home to her house before it was sold. And she was kidnapped in that house.”

  I threw myself at the door. I knew precisely where Patricia lived and could run there right now. I might get dehydrated, might break my ankle, but it wouldn’t matter. I’d crawl past her pretty lavenders and roses and beat on the door anyway.

  I didn’t need to. William swept close. And in doing so, he proved one thing. We were better off together than apart.

  Chapter 6

  We pulled up in front of Patricia’s house, and dread plucked at my stomach. It felt like something gathered my intestines and wove them into a bloody, awful tapestry. I crammed a hand on my middle and shook my head. Even without walking into Patricia’s pretty house, I knew she was gone and wouldn’t return.

  William watched me, quiet but careful.

  He didn’t prompt me as he grabbed the keys from the ignition and jumped out. He waited. Slowly, like someone walking to the gallows, I undid my belt and got out. As if on cue, a blast of wind raced down the street, grabbed my crinkly locks, and blasted them in front of my face. They were shorter than usual. I kept losing chunks of them in fights. I’d done an excellent job cleaning them up. But they were still long enough that they tousled over my face in giant, uncomfortable knots. I thumbed them out of my eyes to see William watching me. No, he watched my hair. Watched it like someone charting some pretty butterfly’s path through the summer sky.

  I blinked, realized I must be wrong, and raced up to him. I shoved my hands into my jacket pockets then looked at the door. Police tape covered it.

  “No one has investigated it yet. They’ve just sealed off the crime scene.”

  “Got it.”

  William unhooked the tape, let me through, and opened the door for me.

  I slipped in past him.

  The furniture was gone. Mark wanted to sell the place, huh? He’d probably had Patricia sign the rights over to him.

  I’d never met this Mark. I could promise you when I did – and I would – I’d shove my fist into his face. Jeffrey was meant to be the black sheep of that family. Something twisting through my gut told me Mark was worse.

  He’d used his sister and her assets like chess pieces.

  My feet moved over the bare, polished floorboards, and I slid a hand out, touching the pristine painted wall. No photos. I mean, there was no art now, but I remembered from the first visit that Patricia had no family photos. Not one.

  I shifted past the dust marks that indicated paintings had once hung there. I moved through the doorway leading to the once well-appointed lounge room. I could have run to the fire – it wasn’t on.

  I stopped when I reached the office, twisted, and walked inside. I shoved my hands into my pockets and strode up to one of the walls. I didn’t think my intuition was working yet. I was simply investigating this place based on what I remembered. William remained several steps behind, never interrupting.

  I frowned and pulled my left hand from my pocket.

  I felt William’s eyes on me, knowing his gaze drifted to my bandage. You could glimpse the plastic from underneath my sleeve.

  I wasn’t itchy right now. No… I was itchy in a different way. Tingles of intuition raced through my stomach, rising in a cloud. You can’t grab hold of clouds. If you’re smart and you know how to control the wind, you can still corral them.

  I exhaled, pressed my hand forward, and stopped. I clicked my fingers. “Spirit realm. I am—” I went to say I’d head there quickly, then turned.

  I reached out to William. He only stood 30 centimeters away. He watched me intently, not stopping me, not moving, just interested as I grabbed his sleeve.

  My stomach squirmed at the look in his eyes. I was passing some test. I was proving that I could follow orders, could take him wherever I went.

  Because we were better off together than apart. That promise drummed through my mind as, twisting two fingers to the side, I opened a small portal. It pulled us inside. As soon as it deposited us in the spirit realm, I sighed. This time I didn’t control it. Just another inappropriate vocalization around William, right? Wrong. This was one of the deep, blissful breaths I always took when I entered the spirit realm. Just a second before the stalkers attacked, of course.

  I don’t know if it was the void or something else, but coming into the spirit realm always felt like returning home. It wouldn’t last – just couldn’t. Especially now. I opened my eyes. That happy sigh broke across my lips like someone breaking their whip on a horse’s back.

  I faced a wall and froze. Blood dripped off it in a memorable pattern that screamed of Luigi’s dark magic. I lurched back, but William stood firmly behind me. He opened his arm and stopped me from falling to my butt.

  He took a tense breath and didn’t seem to let it out. It remained in his chest, forcing his torso forward, his lips so stiff even a hammer couldn’t move them.

  I watched one side of his eyes blink yellow then the next. He moved his lips. He revealed his teeth. Crap. Blood.

  What had William promised me only about 20 minutes ago? He’d never bite me.

  But he was still a vampire.

  I had an epic sense of smell now. It couldn’t rival William’s or Argyle’s. That wasn’t the point. So much blood filled the room that it even got to me.

  William still didn’t breathe.

  I had him by the hand – hadn’t dropped it after we entered the spirit realm. I slid my fingers further down his until I grabbed his fingertips. “William?” I tried in a quiet voice that didn’t even penetrate.

  He stared at the blood spell.

  The wall wasn’t big. This spell consumed it just like Luigi to one of his victims.

  The enchantment was circular, with three concentric circles nestled within one another.

  Blood dripped off them but didn’t intermingle, smearing into one giant stain. Because the blood was continuous. Which meant something was pumping it from a constant source.

  Jenny Thatcher’s murder had started all this mess. She disappeared from her dorm room at Bavern University only for her blood to reappear 24 hours later.

  If that could happen, then some external blood source could continuously supply a spell like this.

  I’d stopped Luigi – the man who’d probably killed Jenny. I hadn’t stopped blood magic. I hadn’t stopped other vamps from practicing it.

  William still hadn’t breathed. I’d have to press my lips against his and give him CPR at this rate.

  I settled for grabbing his wrist and tightening my fingers. “William? William?” My voice rose with insistent force.

  His eyes moved around the circle as if he could see something I couldn’t.

  I snapped my head around. I stared at the blood with sharper sight. There. Vampire symbols squirmed within the red liquid. It felt like being slapped by C4. Not across the face. Across my arm. A burst of tingles pushed through the bandage’s calming effects. I didn’t think anything could wake William up. I dropped his hand, ripped my sleeve back, broke the button, and went to yank the bandage off. William collapsed around me, holding the bandage with his broad palm and grabbing my other hand with his free fingers.

  He finally pushed his trapped inhalation out, and it blasted against my fringe, the heat tingling over my skin. “What are you doing?”

  “The… allergy,” I played along, “is pushing through the bandage—”

  “It will pass. Let me deal with the blood spell,” he said in a voice dripping with dark promises.

  I watched him. The sight of his broad body moving around me, shoulders bristling as he faced the wall, distracted me.

  I still stood on tenterhooks as he reached out, paused, and touched the blood spell’s center. I needed to dart forward and stare into his eyes, needed to appraise them for vampire magic. Did they bleed with force? Did yellow consume them like nuclear fallout to a once clean sea?

  Maybe. But if it did happen, it didn’t last. With another trapped exhalation, he squeezed his fingers into the spell’s center and suddenly yanked them back. I heard strands of force snapping. One after another, they sounded like powerful tethers at some dock.

  With a groan, the blood spell collapsed.

  The blood thankfully didn’t splash onto the floor and cover our feet. It disappeared.

  One by one, the circles faded, and the symbols writhing within went with them.

  As soon as the last one disappeared, I dropped my arm. It no longer itched.

  William composed himself with a deep breath then turned.

  He watched me seriously.

  I inhaled shallowly and snapped, “Haven’t you just gotten rid of important evidence?”

  “A spell like that cannot remain. The victim it’s connected to will simply be drained.”

  My hackles shot high on the word victim. I grabbed my throat. I wasn’t the victim. That didn’t stop me from imagining Patricia. “She—”

  He opened a broad hand. “It may not be her. It’s unlikely to be her. I think by now we can conclude her brother, Mark,” he growled, “is involved in this.”

  Involved felt like such a light word, like such an excuse.

  I wanted to find Mark right now, set him down, and scream at him until he handed Patricia over. If that didn’t work, I’d find her on my own.

  I let my left hand fall, brush my side, and collapse into a fist. “We should—”

  I stopped. My nostrils expanded. I made a sour face like someone had crammed lemons up my nose.

  I twitched.

  “Allergies,” William concluded with precious little evidence.

  I lifted a hand, silencing him. “No. This feels….”

  It felt weird. Like a combination of Luigi, someone I didn’t recognize, and Patricia’s fear. That one I knew well. I had a picture book of it, in fact. I remembered in perfect detail meeting her for the first time, the way she clutched her malachite pendant, the fear and suspicion in her eyes. Then how it had melted when she’d seen my own angst. She’d reached out to me regardless of her own feelings. That act of kindness would stay with me my whole life. It was one of the scents I detected now. But it was so wrapped up in darkness it felt like someone grabbed your childhood teddy and encased it in detritus from a grave site.

 

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