Screams echoed around them in the blackness. Caliste’s ears rang with the nerve-splitting sound. It was too dark to make out who—or what—was screaming or even where it was coming from.
There was only fear. A primal fear driving a stake right through her. Her mind begged for her to run. To throw up as many protection spells and wards as she could and get the hell out of there. But she couldn’t leave the ordinaires to fend for themselves.
“Babet. What is this? What have you done?” She glanced around for Mdima’s white eyes.
If she spotted the shadow being, the witch couldn’t be far either.
“Shh. Let the spirits talk. Show some respect, Caliste.” Babet’s voice came from behind her.
Caliste jumped; thankful she’d come prepared with her charm. Not that the crone couldn’t break through it if she really wanted to, but Caliste’s ancestors would put up a good fight first.
“Yes, but they’re not talking. They’re screaming.” Caliste muttered in response, covering her ears as another round of screams erupted.
The air grew colder, biting at Caliste’s skin. Her gris-gris burned bright against the unnatural chill. Caliste scowled in the direction she assumed Babet was standing. There were far more than just spirits lurking among them.
This was dangerous power. Ancient magic. Something they had no business messing around with.
“Bab—”
Everything fell silent. Caliste blinked against the darkness, heart still racing. She could still sense a powerful energy around them, but the screaming had stopped.
Light flooded the street, making Caliste stumble. A dark blur raced away. Mdima? Caliste turned to find Babet comforting the young woman who sat on the stone ground, shaking and whimpering. The man stood beside her, a haunted look on his face.
Whatever the couple had heard or seen had spooked them—bad.
“Now, now. The worst is over, my sweets. You should be very proud of yourselves. Not many can say they’ve come face to face with their demons and conquered them. You must really want this healing, huh sugars?” Babet chuckled.
The woman sobbed. Her companion, seeming to remember himself, helped her to her feet and held her tight as she buried herself into him. Caliste’s heart twisted at the scene.
“Yes. Please. We’ve tried all the doctors. There’s no known cure. This is our last hope.” The man’s voice wavered.
His desperation cut Caliste like a knife. She’d seen that look before. More times than she wished she had. It was those moments that made her wish the GRIMM weren’t so strict on enforcing the rules of magic. There was so much good it could do—with the right hands casting. It didn’t need to be something humans were so scared of.
Before she could comfort them, the light vanished, bathing them in the darkness once again. The woman wailed.
“Hush now, child. This is the easy part.” Babet chuckled.
Caliste moved toward the couple, not trusting the old witch. If they’d survived the path, then that meant they’d arrived.
Shadow Street.
Coldness seeped into Caliste’s dress, chilling her to the bone. A warning rang in her head. She bumped into the young woman and reached out an arm to steady her and to keep her safe.
It was only a matter of time before the dead arrived—the vampires.
“I didn’t know there were any shaman here.” Caliste directed her statement to Babet.
The other witch remained silent. Slanted white eyes flashed in the dark, signaling the return of Babet’s shadow familiar.
Returned to help its master with whatever twisted plan she had? All senses alert, Caliste stood in front of the couple, ready to act. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears. The darkness, cold, and lack of any odor made her wary.
What were they doing there? What could the bloodsucking creatures do for the humans?
Bells jingled in the distance, catching her attention. The song was soft and reminded Caliste of Bastille Day. But this wasn’t the French Square. None of the witches dared to wander these parts.
“What is it? Is it the shaman?” The man’s fearful voice echoed around them.
Caliste squinted against the blackness. Were they in some sort of alley? Her mind screamed at her, reminding her that someday her recklessness would be the death of her.
But not today…hopefully.
Little orbs of light lit up the sky, making the young woman gasp. The orbs glowed in a variety of different colors and bathed the cobblestoned street with its rainbow effect. It was beautiful—if you didn’t know what the lights were made of.
Sprites. Trapped in spelled orbs for eternity. It was a practice Caliste hated, but one she’d seen many times. Though technically it was outlawed by the GRIMM, they didn’t care enough to enforce it.
Her lip curled as she met Babet’s gaze. What did the vampires want with the morbid décor? They didn’t need light to see in the dark.
Soft jazz music blared from behind and shadows moved toward them. Caliste’s heart sped up as she watched. Vendors dressed in white lace dresses and old-fashioned trousers and vested shirts strolled up, pushing their carts along the square. They flashed friendly smiles at the ordinaires, but Caliste could see past their facades.
Vampires.
Her throat turned dry. What was this place? Caliste watched as a cart holding a rack of sheer scarves glided by. Carts with sugary pastries and steaming pots of what she imagined was gumbo rolled past them. Wide-eyed, the man and woman took it all in, breathing in whatever aroma they’d been spelled to smell.
All Caliste could smell was trouble.
Before she could warn the couple, a tall vampire appeared before them. His eyes darted from Caliste to Babet and landed on the ordinaires.
He smiled. “Good evening, are you looking for the shaman?”
Hopefulness spread on the man and woman’s faces as they nodded their heads. Caliste frowned at the vampire and glanced back at Babet. What was this little ruse they had set up?
Her fingers twitched at her sides, ready to cast and escape with the humans. Voices drifted around them as the vendors continued setting up their wares. From the outside, it looked innocent. The perfect trap for unsuspecting ordinaires.
“I’ll be happy to assist you.” The vampire smiled, eyes twinkling.
In one movement, he was on top of the woman, his fangs sinking into her neck. Caliste threw her arm up but froze as pain speared through her head.
A blocking spell.
She whipped toward Babet. The witch smiled. When had she cast it? How had she gotten past Caliste’s protection spell to do it?
The man’s anguished cry snapped her out of her thoughts. Caliste turned to find the vampire gone and the woman… dead.
Drained. Caliste’s stomach churned. It happened too quickly. Even with her magic, she wouldn’t have had time to stop it.
Her heart twisted as the young man knelt beside his love, shaking her limp arm. His devasted, disbelieving cries echoed along the square, drowning out the soft music and voices of the vendors.
Free from the blocking spell, Caliste rushed to his side. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But we have to go. We have to get you out of here. Please. Let me help you.”
He ignored her pleas, his grief rolling out in torrent of sobs as he held onto his partner. Caliste turned to Babet, her anger hot and burning.
“Watch.” Babet instructed.
The man fell silent. Caliste’s stomach grew queasy. The woman’s body began to stir. Her gaping neck wound healing fast—too fast.
No. No.
“Sun?” the man’s voice held his wonder and hope.
Caliste held her breath as the woman stood to her feet, her companion sobbing in relief as he threw his arms around her.
Babet chuckled. “There. See. All healed up. She’s saved.”
Caliste threw her a glare. The young woman hadn’t been saved. She’d been damned—changed and bound to immortality as a vampire.
“Thank you! Thank you!” The man cried, planting kisses all over the resurrected woman.
Nausea hit Caliste at the scene. It was heart wrenching. Horrific. She needed to get him away from the girl. Before it was too—
“No!” Caliste’s scream bounced around them.
She was too late.
In her changed state, the young woman didn’t remember her partner. His eyes widened in horror before she attacked, dragging him off into the night. Caliste ran after them. Her boots pounded against stone.
The man’s strangled cry echoed in the alley.
Then silence.
When she reached him, it was too late. He was gone. His body lay discarded, drained, and ripped apart. Caliste turned her head, bile rising in her throat. Tears burned her eyes. The woman he had loved was gone too. She’d been transformed into a bloodthirsty creature. There was no telling where she’d go now and what havoc she would wreak until morning. Would she realize what she’d done once the bloodlust left her?
Heat spread across Caliste’s skin. This was her fault. She’d failed them.
If only she’d been faster or stronger.
“I warned you, you wouldn’t like what you’d see.” Babet’s voice startled her out of her thoughts.
Caliste whipped toward the witch. “Why? Why work with vampires? What are you getting out of this?”
Babet ignored her question and sauntered up to the man’s body. She prodded his arm with her cane and nodded before glancing back at Caliste.
“Isn’t it obvious? Shadow magic requires death. Darkness. Decay. This should keep until the next one.”
The old witch sucked in a deep breath and sighed. “Yes. Very good. Still potent.”
Caliste balled her fist. She wanted to send a spell flying at the cruel woman, but what little juice she had left would have to be conserved. It was a long way until morning light, and she was still in danger.
She couldn’t watch as Babet went to work wrapping the body and she certainly wasn’t going to help her. Her chest ached as she thought about the couple’s family and friends. They would never know what happened to them.
“You better hurry, sweetie. The shaman will be back. With your limited power, I wouldn’t waste another minute. Witches taste just as sweet as ordinaires.”
Caliste shot her one last glare before throwing up a quick protection spell. The crone was right. She needed to get back, and fast. She squared her shoulders. Surely, Stéphanie would want to hear what was going on.
As much as she hated herself for it, Caliste took Babet’s help when the old witch cast a path of flame to guide her back. The noise of the market faded as she raced home.
Her heart pounded loudly in her ears and sweat gathered on her skin. The faces of the poor couple floated in her mind. Guilt seared through her. There would be a next time, and she needed to be ready for it—ready to stop it.
* * *
Caliste paced the well-worn rug of the apothecary shop. She could hear Stéphanie and the other coven leaders whispering in the back room. No doubt, discussing her and her latest adventure.
Mona, busybody that she was, sat behind the counter, eavesdropping under the pretense of painting their coven symbols on the finished pottery. Her eyes met Caliste’s.
“Why are you here, Mona? Who’s running your shop?”
The witch smiled smugly at her. “Stéphanie asked me to help her with inventory.”
Caliste snorted. More like she had begged their supreme to give her an important task and Stéphanie had assigned her a chore that no one else wanted to do.
The door to the back opened and Caliste whipped toward it. Stéphanie filled the doorway, hands on her large hips as she studied Caliste.
“Alright, Caliste. Come in here, please.”
Caliste took a steading breath and smoothed her skirt as she followed her supreme. She could feel Mona’s eyes tracking her movement and heard her muttering something under her breath about Caliste causing more trouble for their coven.
Once inside, Stéphanie motioned for her to sit. Caliste took her place in the center of the room. The other leaders frowned at her from their chairs.
Already, she could tell this wasn’t going to go well.
“Before you start, you should know that we already know what you’ve come here to discuss. We are aware of Babet and her… projects.”
Caliste blinked in surprise. They knew about Babet working with the vampires? Was it possible? Thrown by their revelation, Caliste looked around the small room and studied their reactions.
Didn’t they care about what was happening?
Stéphanie sighed heavily. “We’ve called you in to formally inform you that we will not be getting involved in the matter.”
“But the ordinaires—”
Stéphanie held up a hand to her. “Enough, Caliste. We have our own problems to worry about. Let the GRIMMS worry about the humans. I’m not involving the coven in this.”
Her refusal burned Caliste. How could she allow such a horrible thing to keep happening and remain silent? It was wrong. Couldn’t she see that it was wrong?
“So, I have your permission then to seek out the GRIMMS about this? File a report?”
Stéphanie’s dark eyes narrowed. “No. That’s not what I said. How do you think the other covens would react if they knew we summoned the dogs? Besides, you think they would stop at investigating Babet? We would all be under their eye.”
“But—”
“No. The answer is no.” Stéphanie cut her off.
Caliste bit her lip, fighting the urge to launch into another argument. It was useless. Stéphanie had made up her mind and there was no changing it. Caliste would have to do this on her own.
As if picking up on her thoughts, Stéphanie side eyed her. “I expected you to put up more of a fight. What are you up to?”
Caliste schooled her face and shrugged. “I know there’s no winning with you. Why waste my breath?”
Stéphanie’s brows furrowed. “Don’t do it, Caliste.”
“Do what? I’m not doing anything.”
“Good. Go run your shop, pay your coven dues, and worry about your own problems.”
“My own problems? Like what?”
“Have you mastered your holding spell yet?”
One of the other witches grunted in agreement.
Caliste shot her supreme a flat look. Holding Spell? Humans were being hand delivered to vampires and Stéphanie wanted her to practice control?
Done with the conversation, her coven leader turned her back to Caliste and returned to mixing pungent potions together. The other witches folded their arms across their chests and watched her.
Caliste turned and saw herself out, wheels spinning in her mind. If her coven leader refused to help and the other witches were as good as useless, then she was left with only one choice—she’d go to the head.
Gerard Bergeron. The vampire viceroy.