Page 12 of Twice Bitten

“An encounter with a vampire,” I said, the feeling of Beckett’s energy lingering on my skin in the same way the smell follows you home from a fried chicken joint.

The snarky house spirit had quite the repertoire of knowledge about the supernatural population and might be able to help me. I once asked him how he knew so much, but he clammed up every time I tried to engage him about his past. My house spirit had a background he wasn’t ready to share yet, and since he was helping me, I wouldn’t press him. At least not right now.

I’d pay a little extra for the electricity and Wi-Fi he neededas long as he used the knowledge for good, in other words to benefit me.

Edmund sucked in whatever passed for breath. “You appear to be unscathed.”

I took a sip of my mead and sighed. The cool honey flavor exploded over my taste buds. “Have I ever mentioned how weird it is that you can see me with no eyes?”

“Only a few hundred times.”

I shifted in my seat and thought about Beckett and the unnerving feeling he gave me each encounter. “He’s creepy, Edmund. Dangerous.”

And I couldn’t wait to wash away the encounter. My fingers tapped against my glass impatiently. As much as I wanted to soak in a bath, Edmund was a good source of info and might be able to give me more insight.

“Tell me everything.”

I went through both encounters with him, and when I was finished, Edmund stayed uncharacteristically silent.

“I screwed up, didn’t I?”

“No.” His voice was adamant. “You did nothing wrong. Vampires, as you must already know, are intense. It’s always risky to be the object of their obsession, no matter if they’re good or bad. Even in human and witch kind, obsession can go too far. Vampires are far worse.”

“He said he wants to unwrap me like a gift.” I scrubbed my hand over my face. “Addy gave me the week off when she noticed how attentive he was. She told me to lie low.”

“Wise advice. There is plenty to keep you busy here, and I will keep an eye out for any threats coming from the outside.”

“Thanks.”

“You are welcome, Alex. I created a mood playlist for you. Let me know when you’d like a bath, and I’ll run one for you.”

“You’re the best. I have someone coming out next week to upgrade the Wi-Fi for you.”

“Excellent.”

Edmund was powered by magic and electricity but had issues communicating when the Wi-Fi got spotty. Odd, and he wouldn’t explain why, but he had asked for some very specific upgrades to the house. Since he was usually more helpful than snarky, I was happy to oblige. It cost a bundle, but Edmund assured me it would pay off in the long run. Whatever that meant.

“I will leave you now. You only have to shout if you need something.”

His presence faded away, leaving me alone with my mead and thoughts.

Most witchcraft required a clean heart, a clean mind, and a clean body. I had two out of three. Settling the mind proved difficult, thanks to Beckett. After a long bath that turned me pruny, I oiled my thick hair with a special formulation of rose and honeysuckle, diffused my curls into something a little more manageable than normal, and dressed in a floral-printed silk robe.

No makeup, no artificial fragrances or polish on my fingers or toes. I went to the earth like I’d arrived, lacking artifice.

Before I began my spellwork, I sank to my knees and fished underneath the bed, pulling out a worn wooden box with a childish triskele symbol burned crookedly onto the top. The sight never failed to make me smile. One of the few things my aunt allowed me to keep before she’d sold our house and dragged me to Texas, the box was a reminder of where I’d come from—a home filled with love and laughter, magic and hope.

Under Mom’s supervision and guiding hand while I used the wood burning tool, I’d carved the symbol of the Maiden, Mother, and Crone carefully on top of the box she had oncestored lavender inside. Now, staring down at the still-fragrant wood, a bottomless chasm of grief opened up inside me.

I wanted to look for her so badly, had gone so far as to pack a small suitcase and have one leg out the window when my aunt caught me, sadness and disapproval burning in her gaze. She’d guided me back inside, taken the clothes out of my suitcase, and made us ice cream sundaes—one of the few times she’d shown true empathy. As I picked at my ice cream, she’d taken a folded piece of paper from her apron and slid it across the table.

I’d recognize my mother’s handwriting anywhere. The note was short and to the point.

If you’re reading this, know I had no choice. Do not look for me, Alex. Stay with your aunt and wait. All will be revealed soon.

Her scrawled final line read:Never doubt how much I love you.

The note had killed any thoughts of running after her. She’d left on purpose and might never come back, and I knew my mother well enough to realize there was very little that could keep her from my side. If Mom wasn’t dead, she was trapped or worse, and there was nothing I could do about it. The trail had long grown cold, if she’d even left one in the first place.