Belle cocked her head. “A curious choice.”
“It’s what Antoine calls me,” she admitted.
Belle gasped, delighted. “All this and more? No wonder your blood is so potent.” She gave Cally a curiously steady look. “I took only a little, no more than I needed,” she said. “Do be sure to tellhimthat.”
Cally didn’t feel dizzy, so that was probably true, though it was hard to remember in the aftermath of what Belle had subjected her to. She couldn’t have stopped Belle from draining her dry if she’d wished, yet it seemed important to the ancient vampire that Antoine knew she hadn’t fed deeply.
Her mood had shifted dramatically.
“I’ll tell him,” Cally said. “But I don’t know what answer you want. Are we still playing games?”
“So feisty.” Belle’s eyes glinted with delight. “I have missed ones like you.” She lifted her hand as though to touch Cally again, then pulled it back at the last second, her fingers curling in the air. “Very well, I will tell you.Otherwise we will be here all night.” She took a slow breath, for no other reason than to build suspense. “You,mafillette, are awitch.”
“Uh-huh,” Cally said, waiting for more.
Belle blinked, as though she’d expected a stronger reaction to her grand reveal. “Did you know you were a witch?”
“A friend of mine introduced me to a coven. We do finding spells with crystals and… stuff.” She glanced away, embarrassed.
“That is nothing; the art is lost,” Belle said abruptly. Then her gaze sharpened, as intense as Antoine’s finest. “Do you know what it means to be a witch?”
Cally rolled her eyes. “Shall we just assume I don’t? It’s probably faster.”
“D’accord. A history lesson, then.” Belle took a breath, folding her hands in her lap with surprising grace and poise, all traces of her sadistic playfulness gone.
“One cannot speak of vampires without speaking of witches,” she began, as if the carpet was full of wide-eyed school children, sitting waiting for a story. “In centuries past, the power of witches was far greater than the superstitious drivel and mystic nonsense that it has become,” she said with distaste. “Once, witches were feared for the curses they could unleash and the rituals they performed. And they were loved, for the blessings they bestowed and the protections they wove.” She waved a dismissive hand. “But the most famous tale? A man—for alas, there is always a man—jilted his lover, a witch.”
“And he turned into a vampire?” She could see this one coming.
Belle gestured in agreement. “That’s how the story goes, yes. With her coven, she cursed him to darkness, to drink only blood, and to never know peace. To be, for evermore, a vampire.”
Cally longed to say ‘uh-huh’ again, but she bit her tongue. At least she wasn’t being held painfully by her hair while Belle toyed with her, though Belle’s bedtime stories were another kind of torture.
“It is not known how true this is, of course,” Belle continued. “The history is lost to time, as it often is.” She raised a finger. “What is undeniable, however, is the symbiosis between witch and vampire. Both grow stronger with the other.”
Cally blinked, a heavy unease settling in her stomach. One thing to hear stories; another to be caught living in one. She took a slow breath, trying to steady herself, then asked, “How much of this is true, and how much of it is just a legend?”
“Merely because something is a legend doesn’t mean it isn’t true,n’est-ce pas?” She gave Cally a look that almost seemed friendly. “As for the witch and the vampire, they soon found themselves in mutual respect—each feeding off the other’s strength. Over time, others followed, and such bonds grewpowerful.”
Cally shifted uncomfortably. “So, vampires and witches started working together, huh? I’m guessing until they didn’t?”
“Indeed. Jealousy and fear are powerful motivators,ma fillette,and for the longest time, witches hunted vampires and vampires hunted witches, so that never again could such a bond be formed.”
Cally’s gut twisted, her mouth going dry. “You’re saying vampires will hunt me because I’m a witch?”
Belle shook her head. “No longer,ma fillette. Rather the opposite. There are very few witches left, so you are precious. Not least as a source of power. Any who feeds upon you”—she licked her fangs as if still tasting Cally’s blood—“will only grow stronger.”
“Great. I’m a walking battery buffet.” Cally rubbed her temples, trying to calm the headache that had arrived. “So when this gets out, I’m—”
“This can never get out,” Belle said firmly. “No one must ever know.”
Can I trust you?Unease twisted inside her—then she paused, grappling with the irony of her own thought.How the hell am I asking that about another vampire, in the same night?
“How can I keep it a secret?” Cally asked, the despair clear in her voice. “You could tell as soon as you tasted me.” She glanced at the door. “How many vampires are in this house?”
“A great many,ma fillette.But while I can taste your power, that is a uniqueness of…” She paused. “Did Antoine ever explain about bloodlines?”
“No.” Cally frowned. “You mentioned bloodlines back at his house. Mixing them?”