Blood Legacy: Adult Urban Fantasy (The V V Inn Book 5) (18 page)

“Whisperings of what?”

“Legends come to life. Poppycock if you ask me.”
 

It’s strange hearing the old phrase come out of the young witch’s mouth. Then again, maybe she’s not as young as I think. Vivian doesn’t look a day over twenty-five.

“The sightings wouldn’t happen to be of a misshapen dwarf, using his arms to help walk, would it?”

She snorts, uncrossing her arms and reaching for the tea. “I believe the PC term these days is ‘little person.’ I would have expected more from a master.”

Vivian ignores the dig and keeps going. “Should I take that as confirmation?”

“I can’t confirm or deny something I’ve not seen myself. Would be rather presumptuous of me.”

“Can you tell us who claimed to have seen something? Maybe we can ask them ourselves.”

Sorrow crosses the witch’s face, indicating she isn’t as unmoved by our questions as she cares to pretend. “It was Sophia who told me she saw something. Right before I sent her out for more herbs.”

Her attitude makes sense now. It’s a front to cover up her guilt. She fears she may have been the one to send the younger witch to her death. I glance at Rafe and Viv, their eyes searching out each other then mine, possibly to confirm we all share the same suspicion.

“Tell us what you know of the witch’s death.”

“Not without payment.”

Another smile, this one cold and calculating. “What do you want?”

A bold look crosses Gwendolyn’s face. “Your mate’s blood. Not much, just a small amount.”

“Not a chance.”

The witch raises a shoulder. “Couldn’t hurt to try.”

“Gold?” Vivian asks, eyebrow raised. She looks confident, like she knows exactly where this game is going to lead.

“I have no need for gold. The wolf’s blood?”

I squirm in my seat, uncomfortable that Rafe and I are being bartered like yesterday’s bread.
 

“No, again.” A peaceful look steals over the vampire’s face. “How about mine?”

“You would grant me your blood, vampire? Over theirs?”

Vivian raises an elegant shoulder. “I know you intend to use it in spells. I also know if you try and use it to control me in any way it will backfire on you, leading me straight to you. And make no mistake—you try that and I’ll kill you.”

“Well done.” The witch smiles, showing all her pristine teeth. “But why not give me theirs, over yours?”

“Because I can thwart any attempt to become your puppet or have magic used against me. They may not be able to. I won’t risk their safety. Even at the expense of my own.”

“Bravo.” The young woman leans back in her chair and examines Vivian more carefully. “A vampire with a heart and a conscience. You must not be from around here.”

“I was. A long, long time ago. Way before your time, Gwendolyn.”

“Since you know my name, why not tell me yours?”

Vivian tilts her head to the side, a calculating gleam in her eye. “You may call me Vivian. This is my husband, Rafe, and Jon, my vampire servant.”

“Quite a strong contingent to visit one little ole witch, wouldn’t you say?”

Rafe speaks, frustration in his tone. “You’ve already established that we’re an odd group to show up at your door. What do you intend with my wife’s blood?”

“Nothing you need to be worried about, I assure you. I want it to work a few powerful spells.” She nods at Vivian. “And none of it will trace back to your lovely wife in any way, shape, or form.”

I recall something Bart said. “I thought witches considered using blood beneath them, and that’s why you guys look down on wizards.”

“Not exactly. We may use blood as an ingredient in a ritual to bind and fuel the spell. A wizard uses blood in every spell, no matter how simple or intricate, to
pay
for the imbalance their use of magic causes. Since they can’t command it like we do, they rip it from the earth and air around them, forcing it to their whim. Such a practice extracts a toll on the world around us—thus the payment in their blood.”

“How was your witch beaten to death behind the herb shop? Was she that vulnerable all alone or was she set up to be vulnerable?”

“Based on other witnesses, we think the killer was an invunche—an ancient creature not seen in these parts for over a hundred years. Traditionally they serve wizards, but we’re not ruling out other spell casters just yet.”

She’s mirroring exactly what we discovered with Justin already. But that last bit has me speaking up. “Other spell casters?”

“You’ve heard of fae, haven’t you? Humans aren’t the only ones who wield magic to their advantage. We’re just the most prominent users in the city.”

Vivian nods, asking another question. “Do you think someone called the invunche to attack her on purpose?”

Gwen shakes her head. “It doesn’t seem likely. She was a novice, new to the coven, out running errands. Too young to have made any enemies in the community yet.”

“What about the coven she was a part of—could they have an enemy who targeted their group directly, and she was an easy target?”

“Again, I don’t think so. On the whole, the witches in town work together. There’s no place for killing your equal with magic based on nature.”

Rafe leans forward, pouring himself some tea, brave bastard. “What about the fae you mentioned. Would they have a reason to target Sophia?”

“The fae prefer to stick to the woods. We don’t interact with them enough to warrant an attack.”

Vivian tries another track, one we keep circling back to. “We heard your coven has hired wizards in the past. Could one of them be unhappy with payment and seeking vengeance?”

“It’s true, I know of witches who’ve hired wizards for tasks they felt were too staining to their aura. But I have no idea if any of them are disgruntled or unhappy with the arrangement.”

“Stain their aura? We haven’t heard that before,” Vivian says. “What do you mean?”

“All magic, no matter who is wielding the spell, leaves a taint. If your aura is strong, you can easily absorb it to offset the ‘cost.’ But some useful spells are a little darker and require more cleansing to use them safely. In that case, a busy witch may hire a wizard to do the spell to avoid the extra work.”

“What does that do to the wizard’s aura? Wouldn’t the darker spell cause them harm?”

“Not when they are using their own blood in payment.”

Vivian watches the witch closely. “Why wouldn’t witches use their own blood?”

“Like I said before, we do—just very sparingly. Casting with your own blood comes with risks, too. And a smart witch avoids risk to live longer.”

“What type of risks?”

A heavy sigh comes from the witch. “Your blood better be worth all this. Because of the magic in a witch’s blood, we can’t add it to powerful spells without the blood changing the core of the spell.”

“Wouldn’t that mean the spell won’t work properly?”

“Yes. And doesn’t that defeat the purpose of doing complex magic in the first place? If you’re going to go through all the damn trouble, it better work out right.”

A few things slip into place for me. “So what you’re saying is—mixing a witch’s blood into a spell to pay for it, could actually mess it up? That must be why you guys hire wizards. Their blood is pure of magical taint and makes better payment.”

A scowl crosses the young woman’s face for an instant. “I wouldn’t call it a taint. But I have noticed if I’m doing earth magic, which is my strength, and add my blood as a binder, it doesn’t always come out right.”

“I have more questions about the young witch’s death,” Vivian says.

“Let’s not forget payment, night-walker. Don’t make me get mean.”

Vivian reaches into her pocket and withdraws a silver-bladed knife. “Do you have a suitable container?”

The witch scurries into the kitchen. In a moment we hear cabinets opening and closing.
 

“Is this wise?” I whisper to Vivian.

She shoots me a glare and answers in my head.
Never fear, I know exactly what I’m doing.

The witch returns with a small clay pot, two inches high, two inches across, with a cork in the wide-mouthed opening. She places it on the table in front of Vivian.
 

Without hesitation, the vampire draws the pot to her, removes the cap, and slices the sliver blade across her palm. Blood spills out of the wound, cascading into the jar. Power punches me in the gut, expanding to encase the entire group. “May my blood be used only for good and never against me and mine.”

The witch’s face scrunches up a bit, unhappy over that last bit. “Tricky vampire. I gave you my word.”

“And I don’t know you. Your word means squat.” Blood wells in the cut, but doesn’t close, the wound resisting immediate healing due to the silver in the blade. The redhead stares at the witch, deep into her eyes and issues a command, “Open your mouth.”

Caught off guard, the witch’s mouth opens. Quick as a wink, Vivian dips a finger from her opposite hand into the blood in her palm and raises it over the other woman’s mouth. One drop falls into Gwen’s open maw before she’s aware of what Vivian’s doing.
 

The moment the blood hits her tongue she jerks, snapping her mouth shut, face livid in anger. “You tricked me!” She spits on the floor, eager to dispel the vampire blood from her system.

Vivian sits back in her chair, completely unperturbed. “Now we’re bound, you and I. You try to go against your promise and I’ll know immediately.”

“You’ve linked us! How dare you!”

“As I said, I don’t know you nor do I trust you. You have my blood. Any harm that befalls me will befall you as well.”

Won’t the bond wear off in thirty days?
I hear Rafe’s voice through my connection with Vivian, she must have opened a mind link to the three of us.
 

Yes, but she doesn’t know that.

“Goddamn, vampires!”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Vivian

Due to our new connection, I feel the anger and fear rolling off the witch, but I ignore it. Did she honestly think she could take my blood with no price? Fool. Information is not worth my blood, only a witch would think it was.

“Now, let’s get back to business,” I say, placing the stopper in the jar and offering my palm to Jon to lick. His werewolf saliva will help the healing process despite the silver blade that caused the wound. “Or would you rather I take my blood and leave?”

His silky tongue rasps over the cut, drawing my eyes to his. I hope it’s not enough to make him drunk with a flood of new power. We need him focused.

“Conniving bloodsuckers! That’s why we never do business with you people. A simple exchange of information for blood and you take it too far.”

I rise from the table, the blood vial in my hand. “Okay, we’ll see if we can get the rest of the information we seek elsewhere.”

“Fine! Fine.” She thrusts her hand out. “Give me the blood and we’ll get started.”
 

I return to my chair, careful to keep the blood vial in front of me until we’re done. “Who has your coven hired within the last week?”

“You’re referring to right before Sophia was killed?”

“Yes.”

“We hired at least three other supes that I know of—one was a local wizard named Justin for a specific task. I don’t know his last name. He’s good. He’s done work for us before and has never been a problem. Another job went to Bart, whom you already know. And a third job was hired out to the local werewolf pack. That was for an upcoming security job for the winter solstice.”

The three of us go silent at the mention of Justin. It takes me a minute to recover, and in the interim, Rafe jumps in.

“What did Justin do for you?”

“Same thing he does for the Tribunal. He specializes in protective wards to surround our neighborhood. It ensures none of our witches are harmed.”

A tingle creeps across my flesh. None of us felt anything when we drove through the ward. Which might mean the ward is down now. Either through tampering or it failed.
 

“The ward didn’t work too well for Sophia, did it?”

A frown forms on Gwendolyn’s face. “She was beyond the ward when she was attacked.”

“Was there anything different about Justin’s casting that day?”

“I have no idea. I wasn’t there.”

“Can you find us someone who was?”

“No. I won’t subject anyone else to being bound to you.”

I smile. “You play with fire, Gwendolyn, you’re going to get burned. How about the job you hired Bart for—what did that entail?”

“He has an affinity for animals. I think this time he came in to cast health and pain nulling charms for the animals we’re planning to sacrifice at the winter solstice tomorrow. He was cheaper than the vet and faster than us doing something similar.”

“Purifying and improving the health of your sacrifice, and removing their coming pain, sounds like something a witch would want to do on her own, not hire out.”

“Not when you’ve got an entire flock of chickens and a small herd of goats to prepare—and the spells you’re using must be cast individually over every animal. Bart was a better choice.”

Gwendolyn reaches a shaking hand out to her tea mug, taking a sip to fortify herself. “I’ve told you everything I know,” the witch scowls again. “I think it’s time you all leave.”

I slide the blood across the table to her. “Thank you.”

“Hmph.” The witch snatches up the ceramic pot.
 

“My blood is very strong. Use it sparingly in your spells and it will last you a while.”

We leave, the door slammed unceremoniously behind us.

“Your blood seems to be a popular request lately,” Rafe says.

“Of course. Whenever you deal with magic users that’s a given. But I never give without protecting myself first. They’re idiots if they think anyone my age would hand over that much power with no constraints in place. One drop and they’re bound for thirty days. Not a bad bargain in my mind. They have to use the blood before it spoils.”

“Now what?” Jon asks on our way to the car.

“Now, we face the uncomfortable fact that Justin is our primary suspect.”

The phone in my pocket rings. I don’t recognize the Argentine prefix, but answer it anyway.