The magic that had pulsed from the ring William placed on Amelia stopped the migration of the sigils up Amelia’s arm.
“What is that?” I hadn’t seen anything like it.
“Go to your home, not the hospital,” William instructed, disregarding my question. From the rearview mirror, I looked atmy friend cradled to his chest and wondered if that was the right decision. The sigils couldn’t be fixed with medicine. Concern was etched on William’s features as he retrieved his phone and scrolled through his contacts.
“I need your help,” he rushed out as soon as someone answered the phone. Brusquely, he gave my address without waiting for a response.
After speeding through my neighborhood, I threw the car into park and pulled out my phone to open the garage. William had raced out, Amelia cradled against him, waiting for me. He kept a worried eye on her, clearly annoyed that I didn’t have the speed or reflexes of vampires. As soon as we were in the house, I directed him upstairs to the guest bedroom.
Despite William’s intervention, Amelia’s appearance waned. Each breath she took was a struggle. Color continued to leech from her skin. Putting my hand on her face, it felt cool and clammy. She was unresponsive to her name being called, and when I lifted her eyelids, her eyes rolled up.
Ignoring the weight of William’s scrutinizing eyes was difficult.
“Kara, why would anyone want to curse you?” he asked, interrupting my string of requests for Amelia to wake up, to answer me, to squeeze my hand, to give me some indicator she was still there. Short shallow breaths were all I got.
“Not justsomeone,” I provided, “but an umbral witch.”
Specificity was important when dealing with witches and spells, and the only coven who used dark magic was the Nightshade Coven. Curses were frowned upon because they could only be performed by sacrificing a life. It was never a good idea to be enemies with a witch. Even more unwise was to have beef with a Nightshade.
I couldn’t imagine why they would come for me. I had an amicable relationship with the local covens. I would even goso far as to say a good relationship with the local Nightshade Coven. Some of them even owed me favors.
The only witch that came to mind who might have a problem with me was Jonah. But I’d saved his life. Things could have been a lot worse if I hadn’t intervened. He had to realize that. It wasn’t Jonah who had collided with us earlier. Besides, he was nursing a fractured wrist.
William’s measured stare urged me to answer his question.
“I don’t know,” I said. “This isn’t the work of a local witch,” I asserted with unsubstantiated confidence. I needed it to be someone else. I was just as desperate for it to be someone I could find, unlike the draveths, who had seemed to be creations of Vina’s imagination. They were very real. One had tried to kill me.
I couldn’t denounce reports that they didn’t exist with a “Na-un, they do exist and one tried to kill me. They failed because my protection spell killed them. Yep, a draveth, who apparently are impossible to kill, was taken out by a protection spell over me that I wasn’t aware existed. And the infamous Vina saved my life and in turn unleashed me on the world. So, what do you think about that?”
The hopelessness of never finding the person who initiated the first attempt on my life was renewed. It burdened me to the extent I was about to confide in William about it when he snapped, “Kara!” pulling me from my thoughts.
I glared at him for the cold, menacing undertone in his voice, although I could tell it was misdirected anger.
“Someone is trying to kill our liaison, and that is unacceptable.” The promise of violence threaded through his words. To prevent being responsible for the demise of an entire coven, I needed to find the sole perpetrator.
“This isn’t the first time someone has tried to kill me,” I admitted. His eyes widened. Because the attempt occurred before I started working for them, I hadn’t disclosed theinformation. No further attempts had been made until now. I retold the story of the draveth’s attack, which led to me having to reveal the intervention of Amelia’s mother to save my life. I took creative liberties with Vina’s parting words about my life being one Amelia would regret saving, and the protection spell on me. The fact that she used “this life” seemed especially hurtful because it removed my humanity. As if I were a monster that wasn’t worth the effort.
He shook his head. “Two attacks years apart. Were the motives the same?” He started to pace. “If a draveth was sent to kill you, that was an assassination attempt. The intention of this curse wasn’t to kill you.” He moved past me to examine the markings on Amelia’s arm.
Shocked that he hadn’t dismissed the information about the draveth, I asked, “You believe me that there are draveths?”
“Of course. There are various forms of magic that pre-date the world and the magic we have now. There are those who choose to be hidden for that reason. It doesn’t align with our current system of magic. Anonymity provides a certain level of protection and advantages. Unknown magic is often feared. Sometimes with cause, but far too often it’s just fear of the unknown. I believe there are creatures that exist beyond what we see. In my three hundred”—he stopped for a moment and gave me a weak smile—“three hundred and one years, I’ve seen races of creatures and magic die out. There were rumors of werewolves who could perform magic.”
Since he hadn’t dismissed the existence of draveths, I’d attempt to accept that magic-wielding werewolves also existed. But it seemed impossible because of their immunity to magic. How could they perform it? I pushed the idea aside. There were more pressing things I needed to deal with. Amelia needed me to save her.
William continued to examine the sigils on Amelia. Neither of us was able to make sense of them.
“Why you?” he asked in a low whisper to himself, but his eyes were full of inquiry. The heaviness of the situation was getting harder to bear, and I considered confessing what I’d done the night I found their vampire. Would that help? It didn’t seem relevant, and the information would cause unnecessary contention between us.
William liked me, but his affection for me would never override his obligation to protect the House of Knight. In his risk/reward analysis, I wondered where I’d fall if he discovered what had happened with Raynard.
A cool decisive voice said his name. A woman, I’d guess close to sixty years old from her wizened eyes and small lines around them but reflected in her rich umber skin, stood at the entrance to the bedroom.
William jerked his head in her direction. “Layla.” Her name eased out as he relaxed into a sigh. “Thank you for coming.” His voice held a note of quiet reverence.
I had seen him wear many masks and personas but this one of heartfelt veneration was new.
Her long silver locs were stacked on top of her head in a loose bun, complemented with a patterned head wrap. My eyes were drawn to the glint of her peculiar copper earrings. She was dressed casually in loose, cream linen pants and a long-sleeve shirt, completed with a collection of gold bracelets and charms on her wrists.
