Page 33 of Vampire Sins
I glowered at Sonya’s grandmother as she sipped tea. Fucking tea. How cliché.
Instead of responding to her, I squeezed myself into a dark corner—my favorite brooding corner—and stared outside as clumps of snow fell to the ground. My stomach twisted wondering if Sonya was all right, if our plan had worked, if the world was really going to shit or if we’d somehow make it through this.
If I’d see her again.
Sonya’s grandmother, who I had come to call Grans—she wouldn’t give me a normal name to call her by other than Miss D’Ange—had helped me hatch a crazy plan to stop my father from taking over the world. A single television blubbered on about a riot in Shanghai that was finally dying down, as well as an unexplained massive earthquake in Venice, all of which I knew were lies. Male muses have been very good at keeping the supernatural community on the down low, and even I was impressed at how a single male muse was able to cover up such catastrophic events. There was no way Apollo would cover any of this up. Quite the opposite. He was trying to expose the community and working with my father to do it.
Dragons revolting in Shanghai.
Derek and Apollo declaring war on the vampires of Venice.
I knew the truth, not because I was supernatural—I too damn mortal for my own good—but I had connections.
A rapid knocking sounded at the door and I launched from my brooding spot to answer it. One of those connections was here. Fucking finally.
Grans rolled her eyes at me and took another dainty sip of her tea. “You really didn’t have to call another one. I insist that I’m fine and—”
“It’s not all about you, Grans,” I barked, although I was more worried about the ancient succubus than I’d admit out loud. I turned from her so she couldn’t see my expression. I was never very good at hiding my feelings from women. Opening the door, relief flooded me to see that not one, but two witches had answered my summons.
The first one, a tall pink-haired woman lifted her chin at me, looking every bit the same as I remembered her. Silver earrings dangled all the way down to the elegant curves of her neck. “Nathanial,” she said, playing my name across her tongue with affection.
I smiled and yanked her into a hug. “Hey, Pink.” She was like a sister to me. We’d grown up together and Pink was the main reason I had so many great contacts. She always saved my butt when I was in trouble, and I was never more grateful for her than I was just now.
Another witch stepped out from behind her shadow, a younger girl with flat, chocolate waves that folded her hands in front of her dress. I would have thought her completely harmless, had I not spotted the glimmer of magic sparking across her skin.
Most humans would never notice it, or play it off as their imagination. The effect was faint and gone before I had a chance to really focus on it. Perhaps it was because I was the son of the Incubus King, or maybe it was just because I knew what to look for, but I could spot a fledgling witch, especially when she had as much power as this one.
Pink squeezed my arm and beamed down at the girl, who I guessed was her latest protégé. “Nate, this is Emily. Emily, meet Nate.”
I offered my hand, but the girl stared at it until I let it fall. “Well, it’s nice to meet you Emily,” I said, trying to keep my tone friendly. I gave Pink a sideways glance, and she gave me a slight nod, confirming my suspicions. This girl had just inherited her magic recently and was still in shock. A witch’s initiation was pretty brutal.
I tried not to cringe as I guided the witches into the tiny studio apartment. Grans could have gotten us something nicer, but the outskirts of Detroit looked like a war zone and it kept our low profile to stay in a shack rather than anything remotely nice. We couldn’t go too far into the surrounding cities, or else we might get noticed. People tended to stay out of Detroit, for the most part. I’d never seen a place with streets so empty, with the division of economy quite clear. Tesla and Audis sped by, on their way to downtown high-rises for work, and they’d be sure to leave before nightfall. Trying to keep up beside them were rusted and beat-up sedans better suited for a junkyard than anything else. Those were the residents, and the people that would help us blend in.
Pink nestled into one of the couches, not seeming to mind the small strings that frayed from it, and gladly accepted a teacup from Grans. “Thank you, Miss D’Ange, how nice it is to see you again.”
Grans gave the witch a nod, but I could tell how weak she was. Dark circles shadowed under her once bright eyes and deepening wrinkles stretched across her cheeks. It must be so strange, to cause human deterioration for so many years, and one day succumb to it yourself.
“Thank you, dear. How are the preparations going?” Grans gave me a glance, her brows furrowing. “Nathanial hasn’t been too demanding, I hope.”
I glared. “You act like this was my idea.”
Emily stepped to Pink’s side, continuing to keep her hands clasped in front of her, even when Grans offered her a cup of tea. The girl just stared at it until she took it away. Finally, she spoke, her words soft and fragile. “Pain,” she remarked.
Pink squeezed the girl’s arm. “Yes, Emily. There’s a lot of pain in this room.”
The slightest of smiles lighted on the girls face at Pink’s praise.
I nestled into my brooding corner, but I wasn’t watching the snow this time. I kept my gaze pinned on the girl whose skin glittered with magic. I realized she wasn’t talking because she was concentrating. Even now, she was performing a spell to help extract the toxins from the suffering succubus. Her magic searched the room with silver fingers, tickling through Grans’ hair and slipping over her sunken-in cheeks. No one seemed to notice it, so I flicked my gaze back to Pink and narrowed my eyes. “It was Grans’ idea to extract the toxin.” The succubus could have survived for some time longer, but now the illness was spreading through her body at an alarming rate. We’d opened a wound, and the only thing we could do for her was take some of the toxin out.
Emily shot her heat up at me like I’d set off a gun and I winced. “The girls are dead,” she whispered, but she might as well have shouted it the way the accusation thundered in my skull.
Grans cleared her throat and loudly set her teacup into its saucer. “Yes, we infected human females with my toxins. The same girls which the Incubus King fed upon. They would have died, with or without our help.”
Emily shifted her gaze to the succubus. “But you chose them.”
Grans pressed her lips into a thin line. It was true, but I understood her logic. It’s why I’d helped her, but it didn’t change how wrong it all felt. We were the ones who’d sent those girls to their deaths, and even though someone else would have taken their place had I failed to meet my father’s demands to find him new thralls, we’d still been the ones to do it.
A sweeping shot of the destruction in Venice came on the TV and I snapped up the remote, turning up the volume. “This is why Grans poisoned those girls,” I explained. The prompter was going on about the phenomenon, but the witches knew exactly what had happened. The supernatural community was at war and my father was leading the charge. “We can’t let him get away with this.”
