Page 28 of Accidental Blood Lust
“Thanks for the ride,” I shout before using my vampire speed to get the fuck out of there.
I tear off through the night streets with no idea where to go, but then I remember what Cassius told me about the fae. Maybe I can find one of them and they’d be willing to help me reverse my condition or somehow make me enjoy drinking blood.
I shudder at the thought. I can’t imagine craving it unless it was Jareth’s or Roman’s. As I slow down, my thoughts return to the strange interaction I had with Roman just a couple of hours ago. It’s clear there’s a physical attraction between us that doesn’t make any sense. Roman has never been warm to me. Does he have some sort of vampire fetish? No, that can’t be it.
His presence in my room felt so visceral, and for just a few minutes I was able to push down the heartache over Jareth leaving me. In a weird way, kissing Roman felt like a connection to Jareth too, but that doesn’t make any sense. Maybe it’s wishful thinking. It doesn’t really matter anyway. Roman won’t go there with me, and frankly, I can’t imagine having a fling with someone Jareth considers a good friend. I’ve caused enough hurt. No way am I going to take Roman down with me too.
As I turn a corner, a building comes into view. Bass-heavy music pours from the open windows and brightly colored lights spill onto the sidewalk through the doors as they swing open. It looks like fun, and maybe I could even find some help in there.
I step closer, but as I do, my chest tightens with unease. I shake it off. I still have trouble deciphering what all these news body cues mean, and usually they don’t mean anything. There’s a big beefy man standing at the door and I immediately clock him as a wolf shifter, but he doesn’t smell anywhere near as nice as Roman does. His scent is closer to mangy dog than cinnamon and autumn leaves. I turn my nose up but approach, plastering a smile on my face.
“Good evening.”
The wolf grunts at me, sniffing in my direction. Then without a word he pulls the large wooden door open and gestures for me to enter.
As I step inside, I glance around, hoping that for once I’ve made a good decision. Maybe there will be a powerful witch inside, or a mage with even stronger powers than Jare. Or… My attention turns to a large round table with seriously beautiful beings gathered around it.
I’m drawn closer to them, almost enthralled, and when I’m standing right beside them, one of them turns to me. He has long silver hair that drapes over his shoulders like a shawl and lilac eyes that sparkle even in the dim light of the club. He smiles, showing off a row of sharp white teeth.
“Well, hello, stranger,” he says, his voice melodic and light.
I step closer to him, almost without meaning to. “Hello. You’re beautiful.”
His smile grows and he leans forward. “You’re hungry, vampire.”
I nod. “I can’t feed normally.” Clearing my throat, I try to pull my gaze away, but I can’t. “I don’t know where I am or what to do next,” I admit.
“You found me.” He rises from his seat, extending an arm and offering his elegant hand. “I am Iswyn. What is your name, delightful creature?”
“Um, I’m um…” My head is cloudy. “Lochlan. My name is Lochlan. Are you a siren?”
Everyone at the table laughs softly. “I am not,” Iswyn says, an amused smile on his lips. “I am fae.”
“Fae.” I suck in a breath. “Maybe you can help me.”
“Maybe I can. What does a beautiful vampire like you need from me?”
A small warning bell that sounds a lot like Cas’s voice rings in the back of my mind, but I push it down. I need to fix my life, and maybe this fae person is the one who can help me do it.
“Can you reverse my vampirism? Or if you can’t do that, can you make me like feeding on mortals?”
Iswyn tilts his head, studying me with his strange eyes while everyone at the table titters with soft laughter.
“Isn’t this interesting?” Iswyn says. A moment later, he holds his hand out to me again. “Come along, vampire. Let’s see what we can make happen.”
My gut twists and those warning bells clang a little louder, but if he’s willing to help, I should see it through. My options are limited, and if I ever want to be able to face Roman and Jareth again, I have to do whatever I can to make this right.
I take Iswyn’s hand and let him lead me through the club then through a doorway, and that’s when shit really gets real.
TEN
JARETH
Getting to the underworld isn’t pleasant. It’s not hell in the Christian sense, but most of the popular imagery is based on it. But even if there’s no literal devil or mass torture scenes, it’s still not a place most people would want to go for a day trip. At least from what Roman has told me. I’ve been perfectly happy never having seen it personally, but something’s wrong, I can feel it, and I don’t have time to wait around and weigh my options.
I double check my notes and verify that I have everything I need for the spell. Chalk? Check. Obsidian? Check. Black candle? Check. And finally, my pocketknife. Check. I read the incantation a few times out loud so I can get used to the shape of each word on my tongue. It’s a demonic dialect, so it’s far from natural on my human tongue, but I had Roman repeat it for me several times so I could write it out phonetically.
I bring the candle close to my face, close my eyes to draw my magic from my core, and blow gently. The wick sparks and the flame flickers and dances as I carefully set the candle back down directly in front of me, exactly six inches away. Next, I need the chalk. I pushed my kitchen table aside to make space on the floor for this ritual, and I have just enough room to draw the elaborate circle around myself, with runes and demonic symbols spacedaround the edges, and precise lines that radiate from where I sit in the center outward to each symbol.
