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I begin to lose unconsciousness again, only to see the horrific vampire who earlier gnawed on me approaching, a wicked sneer on his face.
“Boss says I can’t have fun,” he says. “I’ll show him.”
My senses go dark again.
32
CASPIAN
“This is where the scent ends?” I ask Ren.
It is a stark contrast to the last hideout we infiltrated. Whereas before, we were infiltrating an entire abandoned warehouse, the actual structures in these parts are scarce. There are trees and mountains and caverns galore, but no actual buildings, discounting the occasional ruined cabin.
He nods.
“I can’t sense anything beyond this,” he says. “The scent dries up in that cabin ahead.”
He gestures toward a cabin, with a barely functional roof, its sides eaten by termites. It is a very meager dwelling, and I wonder if anybody ever inhabited it.
“There are dark energies nearby,” Rory says, a rotating green emerald in her hand, suspended by nothing in particular. “Kind of like you actually, Caspian.”
Rory has been given no real reason to distrust Ren, but she has taken every opportunity since we left to issue scathing remarks toward me. She and Ren even have in-jokes about their mutual hatred of vampires.
“Why don’t vampires like mosquitos?” She asked Ren earlier, as Ren briefly lost the scent and we stopped to rest. “Too much competition.”
Ren could not help cackling at that one. It really is not amusing in the slightest - I think he is just giddy to have found a woman who shares his prejudice.
PEACE forces follow in our shadow, careful not to try attention. I think Cameron also doesn’t want to get in the way of any arguments.
We walk up to the cabin together, and as I reach for the doorknob, Rory stops me.
“Wait!” She says urgently.
She utters an incantation, throwing caltrops at the base of the door.
“There are two security cameras in here and one alarm. I can take them out,” she whispers.
“Where did you get caltrops?” I ask, confused. “Have those just been in your pocket, jabbing you this entire time?”
“A witch must always be prepared,” she replies, not answering my question.
She weaves together a layer of magic, uttering yet another incantation, as the magic seems to fold over itself in her hands. She cups her hands together, then ‘crushes’ the magic, before opening her hands with spontaneous abandon, throwing the magic over the building like a large blanket.
The building is suddenly made of wire frames, highlighting its every detail, and encased in a green light. Uttering yet another incantation, we see three puffs of smoke, presumably where the alarm and the security cameras are.
“Okay,” she says. “Security cameras and alarm should be deactivated. Let’s go.”
“Quinn told me you were just an amateur witch,” I say. “How did you learn to do all that?”
“I guess I’m just good with tech and the like.”
We walk inside, and the door opens and closes behind us with a creak. We scour the place, looking for clues of how to get in. Ren uses his nose - Rory uses more magic.
“Uh huh?” She whispers to the termite-ridden bookshelf in the corner. “Interesting.”
The thought crosses my mind that maybe the stress of the occasion has broken her, but then I don’t know how magic works. Maybe sometimes, talking to inanimate objects is part of spellcasting.
I smell the air, and suddenly get a whiff of Quinn. She is as pungent as ever, but there’s something unusual about her blood.
