White Witch, Black Curse

"Rachel?" Ivy said, close and concerned.

My stomach was rolling, and I panted to keep from vomiting. The undulating surges of power from the nearby line were making me seasick, and every nerve felt the power grating across it. "Fine," I gasped, unable to even think of the right words. There were three charms that were generally used, and my dad had taught me them all, plus one that wasn't used except for the most dire situations. Oh God, this was awful.

I took a heaving breath and held it, fighting to think past the pain and dizziness. Ivy's cool hand touched my shoulder, and my breath exploded out as I felt her aura slip to cover me, soothing.

"I'm sorry!" Ivy shouted, her hand leaving me, and I almost fell when the pain returned.

"No," I said as I reached to grasp her hand and the pain again vanished. "You're helping," I said, watching her fear that she'd hurt me replaced with wonder. "It doesn't hurt when I'm touching you. Don't let go. Please."

There in the lamp-lit dark, she swallowed hard and her fingers in mine became firmer. It wasn't perfect. I could still feel the waves of ley line coming at me, but at least it wasn't so raw and the agony across my nerves was muted. My thoughts returned to last Halloween, when she had bitten me that last time. Our auras had become one before she lost it. Was I seeing a lingering effect of that? Were Ivy's and my auras the same? Able to protect each other when one was compromised? Was it love?

Edden stood beside us, not sure of anything, and taking a steadying breath, I put my free hand more firmly on the door.

"Quod est ante pedes nemo spectat," I whispered, and nothing happened.

I shifted my feet. "Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?" I tried again, and still nothing.

Edden scuffed his feet. "Rachel, it's okay."

My hand quivered. "Nil tam difficile est quin quaerendo investigari possit." That one did it, and I pulled my hand back when I felt a quiver of response rise up from the charm buried in the cement and ping through my soul. Nothing is so hard that it can't be found by searching. It figured that it would be that one.

I stepped back and dropped the line, and Ivy searched my face before she let go of my hand and I fisted it. Edden put his fingers into the curve of the handle and pulled. The door cracked, and Ivy flung herself back with her hand over her face.

"Holy crap!" I exclaimed, gagging and falling back as well. I almost tripped Edden as he reared back at the stench. The light from the lantern showed Edden's expression, twisted in distaste. Whatever was in there was long dead, and anger started trickling in. Kisten had succeeded in killing our attacker. Now who would I yell at?

"Hold this," the FIB captain said as he shoved the flashlight at me. I set my lantern down and took it. Edden pulled the door farther open to show a black archway and little else. The stench rolled out, old and putrid. It wasn't the smell of decay, which would have been muted from the cold and perhaps sheer time, but the stink of vampire death that lingered until the sun or wind had a chance to disperse it. It was incense gone bad. Decaying flowers. Spoiled musk and dead sea salt. We couldn't go in, it was that bad. It was as if all the oxygen had been replaced with thick, poisonous, decaying oil.

Edden took his flashlight back. Holding a hand across his nose, he played the light over the floor to find the edges of the room. I stayed where I was, but Ivy came forward to stand at the threshold. Her face was damp from tears, and her expression was blank. Edden moved to get his shoulder in front of hers, but it was the smell that was keeping her out, not his presence.

The floor was the same dust-colored stone, and the walls were cement. A black scum stained the floor, crinkled and cracked, the color of old blood. Edden followed it to the wall to find scratches gouged in the concrete.

"Neither of you go in there," Edden said, then gagged from the deep breath he had taken to say the words. I nodded, and he quickly played the light over the rest of the room. It was a nasty hole of a place with a made-up cot and a cardboard box table. On the bare floor beside another smaller puddle of dried blood was the body of a big black man, faceup and spread-eagled. He had on a lightweight shirt, open to show that his throat had been completely torn out. His lower body cavity had been opened as well, almost as if an animal had been at him, though I expected the small mounds of something piled beside him were probably his insides.

I couldn't tell if he had been attacked while not wearing any pants or if his attacker had eaten through them. Vampires didn't do this. At least not that I'd heard. And this wasn't the man who I'd remembered at Kisten's boat.

Edden's light shook as I held it on the body. Damn it, it had all been for nothing.

"Is that Art?" Edden asked, and I shook my head.

"It's Denon," Ivy said, and my gaze jerked from the corpse to her and back again.

"Denon?" I gasped, feeling my gore rise.