Actually, I'd prefer to hear what she had to say about Killian. But maybe one had something to do with the other. "Yes, I would."
She took a sip of her tea. "You know I don't believe in beating around the bush."
I didn't, really, but I just nodded.
Looking me dead in the eye, she said, "Lizzy, you are descended from a family of witches." Immediately, she held up her hand before I could say anything. "Not voodoo. There's a difference between their magic and ours. But witches."
I asked the first question that came to my mind. "Then why did you own a voodoo store?"
She sighed and moved around on her chair, getting into a more comfortable position. "I don't know. I guess because it was familiar in a way. And it's all really interesting, don't you think?"
"I don't really know. I don't know much about it."
"With all of those books you sell? You never picked one up and read it?" Pursing her lips, she waved her hand in the air before I could answer. "Never mind. That's neither here nor there right now." She took another sip of her tea, then set her cup on the table and stared at me so intently I couldn't look away. "Get comfortable, hon. I have a long story to tell you."
Two hours later, I was on my way home, my head buzzing with the tale Aunt Judy had just told me. I didn't know if I believed her. But, then again, how could I not? I'd always felt there was something different about me. In any case, she'd asked me to meet her at the store on Sunday when we were closed.
And she said there would be others with her.
Chapter 8
Killian
"LIZZY!"
Her name was ripped from my throat as though by unseen hands. Precious seconds ticked by as panic froze me where I stood, staring up at her apartment windows. A few stragglers glanced at me uncomfortably, probably thinking I was a drunk boyfriend or some sort of abusive husband, but I had no time to ease the minds of humans. By the time I forced myself to move, smoke burned the inside of my nostrils.
Fuck it.
Thoughts of my own safety never entered my mind as I opened the door to the residences above the cafe that took up the first floor of Lizzy's building. "God dammit!" I needed a code for the elevator. Trying a few random numbers that didn't work, I punched the steel doors in sheer frustration and went back outside, jogging around the end of the block to the alley behind the building. What I was about to do was not for human eyes to see.
With a quick glance around, I removed my sweater and hung it over the Dumpster. Testing the tread of my boots on the brick, I quickly scaled the outside of the building to the second floor. The first set of windows were dark. Inside, I saw black, leather couches and an oversized television.
Not Lizzy's apartment.
Crawling over to the next set of windows, I saw a gray couch with a matching chair. On the wall hung posters of popular Broadway shows. The Phantom of the Opera. Wicked. Hamilton, and others. The smell of smoke was stronger here, and I could see the flickering shadow of flames around the corner. My fist went through one pane of glass and then the other. Blood ran down my hands, but I felt no pain as I ripped out the wooden grilles in between the panes and then did the same to the rest of the window until I had made a large enough hole for me to fit through without shredding myself into bloody ribbons. I hefted myself up and through the opening, landing silently on the hardwood floor.
A thick gray haze hung in the air, swiftly filling the space between me and the 14-foot ceilings. Crouching low, I tried the door nearest me. It was a closet. Moving swiftly through the living room, I circled to the right, heading toward the flames.
Icy fingers crept along my spine, remnants of magic that crawled along my skin like ants.
I shivered in the heat that seared my lungs as I turned toward the kitchen. I'd forgotten not to breathe. A fire was swiftly building from absolutely nothing in the center of the room. It had already burned up what must have been a rug. Parts of it were now licking at the wooden cabinets. Once they caught, it would spread fast.
I saw a closed door to my right across from the kitchen, midway along the inner wall. Her bedroom. It had to be. I eyed the encroaching flames as they crept toward that door. The smoke was turning black, thick enough it made my eyes water.
I sucked in a breath. "Lizzy!"
Immediately, I began to cough so hard I was surprised pieces of my lungs didn't spew out of my mouth. Again, I eyed the flames edging closer to her door, judging the distance between. If something blew, I would be engulfed in the flames. And vampire or not, there was no way I'd live through being burned alive.
But I couldn't leave her there to burn.
As I made my way to her room, hugging the wall, I tried to will the flames away with my mind. I don't know if it worked or not, but somehow, I made it to the door without becoming a pile of ash myself. I concentrated on slowing my heartbeat to keep my mind off of the urge to breathe. I didn't really need to breathe; it was just an automatic process of my body that had never stopped after I had been turned.
Once I got to the door, I placed my palms against the wood, feeling for heat, just in case. But it was impossible to tell with the inferno just behind me. Without thinking, I grabbed the doorknob. The heated metal seared the skin from my palm, exposing the muscle in the split second it took me to let go again. I roared in pain, my upper lip pulling back from my fangs. There was only one way I was going to get into that room.
Backing up a step, I kicked the door just below the latch. It flew open, banging off the wall behind it. I threw my body into the doorway before it could shut again.
The bedroom I found myself in was small and rectangular. To my right was a small seating area near the windows. Just a lounge chair and a table with a lamp. Her dog was on the chair, lying on a blanket. A corner of it covered his face.
