Chapter 29

Shea

The wind howled through the streets as I walked to Julian's apartment, whipping at my hair like a drunk hairdresser after she got dumped, but I hardly felt it. The bookbag hung heavy on my back, and I pulled at the shoulder straps for the millionth time as I made my way through the sliding glass doors.

I was better prepared this time, throwing on one of my nicer sweaters with some dark jeans and chunky heels. I plastered on a smile as I crossed the swank lobby, heading straight for the elevator.

Before I knew it, I was in front of apartment eight-twenty-three, my heart thudding just as hard as the last time.

I raised a hand to knock but hesitated. I had no idea if Julian was back yet. He hadn't tried to make any contact with me, and I still wasn't sure if it was safe to contact him, so we were at a bit of a stalemate.

But I had nowhere else to go. Shallow Grave was too small a town for privacy, and after Caesar's visit earlier this afternoon, Gram would be especially snoopy. Even if I could find a warm enough place to practice my magic—some abandoned building or shed, maybe—chances were, someone would see me go in. I couldn't risk it.

So here I was, risking my neck in a whole different way.

I stood silent a moment longer, waiting to hear some sort of movement from inside. The soft ding of the elevator let me know that someone else was coming, so I grabbed the doorknob, the decision made for me, and said, "Sahad."

The faint click had no sooner sounded than I was inside, silently closing the door. I stilled my breath as footsteps tapped down the hall, but they stopped long before they reached this particular apartment. I let out a breath, sagging against the door.

I turned around and took in the apartment.

"Hello?" I called, holding still as I waited.

If Julian was back, or he'd lost this place, I didn't know what I'd do next. But the apartment was exactly how I'd left it, the partially burned curtain unmoved. The only difference from last time was the fine layer of dust that graced everything.

"Yeah, definitely not back," I muttered.

A thread of worry weaved through me. What was taking Julian so long? If I were being honest, I had hoped he'd be here this time. He'd invaded my thoughts with his mysterious request and handsome face. I wanted to know more about him. And truthfully, I was a little pissed about everything with Caesar and hoped Julian would help lift my spirits.

I was about filled to bursting with all these secrets. My involvement with Julian, my fling with Caesar, the grimoire!

Not being able to tell people I could do magic was one thing when I knew next to nothing about how to wield that power, but it was entirely different now that I had a grimoire full of spells and potions to unleash. Julian was the only person I knew that I didn't have to hide that from. And he was M.I.A.

I sighed.

Walking into the kitchen, I pulled the bag off my back and hefted it onto the counter. The first thing I pulled out was a small blanket I'd packed for just this reason. It was easier than bringing a chair—and I was definitely not sitting on the one he owned, or the piano bench—and this old thing wouldn't be missed around my house if I left it here.

Next, I pulled out the replacement kitty sweater I'd bought Julian and hung it up in the closet. The note I'd written, complete with his name on the front in the most artistic penmanship I could produce, went on the countertop where he could immediately see it.

If he's not distracted by the curtains.

The note just basically caught him up on what I'd been doing. And briefly explained the curtain. More or less.

Finally, I pulled out the grimoire, as well as a Ziploc bag filled with dirt and dried flowers. I opened the baggie, setting it up so it wouldn't spill its contents. The earthy aroma hit me first, followed by faint traces of rose.

The flowers were wild roses, given to me by a boy back before I became the town pariah. When I brought them home to show Gram, blushing and giddy, Mom had instructed me to lay them flat in a book so I could keep them. Years went by, and the flowers were forgotten, until recently when I was looking through my room for something to experiment on.

A quick glance through the grimoire revealed a regeneration spell specific to plants. Apparently, someone in the book's history really loved plants because there were several of those kinds of spells.

This particular spell wasn't the most intricate one I'd seen, but it was the most complicated spell I'd ever attempted on my own. And I didn't have Gram to make sure I stayed within the lines.

And the spell had particular importance. If it really could bring back a dead flower, maybe I could find something more powerful.

Something that could maybe work on a long dead person.

I flipped the grimoire open to the page I'd bookmarked, nervously reading through the spell again, even though I'd memorized the damn thing. I'd been practicing for days, writing it down—then erasing everything so Gram wouldn't find it—silently running through every syllable of every word.

After my last fiasco, I was quite hesitant to pull the trigger.

Stop stalling. No time like the present.

I took off my heels and sat down on the blanket, crossing my legs into a pretzel.

I took a deep breath, staring at the spell as I began to speak. "Di ankh nehep sem."

The tips of my fingers grew warm, and I smiled. I retrieved the dried flowers out of the bag of soil, rubbing my fingers gently along the brittle petals. The spell called for a focus of nurturing, and I thought of kittens, their cute little furry faces making me want to spout baby talk. When I felt I'd done enough, I turned my gaze back to the book. This next part would take all my concentration.

"Fadj her uat netjer wap wadj."

A tingling feeling spread through my body, the energy crackling and snapping. My heart beat faster, and my hair moved as if in a gentle breeze. The light in the apartment seemed to dim despite it being daylight outside.

But I refused to look away. I stared at the book, seeing the plant begin to sparkle, the color becoming vibrant, the stem and leaves plumping.

"Tenn!" I shouted, roots sprouting from the cut end of the flowers. I planted the roots in the soil and finished the incantation. "Di ankh nehep sem."

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the magic drain and settle. When I dared open my eyes once more, the apartment was once again brightly lit, and a smile broke out on my face.

The roses stood tall and strong, roots woven through the soil. A bit of a glow still kissed the petals, though even as I watched, it faded. It was perfect, probably even better than new. In the right container, it would put even the fanciest of floral arrangements to shame.

I stared in silence for a moment. When I couldn't contain it any longer, I got to my feet. I jumped off the blanket before it had the chance to slip from under me and ran to the bathroom.

"I did it!" I shouted as I stared at myself in the mirror. "I did iiiiiiiit!"

I did a little dance, screaming with wild glee.

This. Was. It.

"I have magic. I have magic!" I felt my face and arms. "And I'm still alive!"

I broke into laughter, then ran back into the apartment, heading for the chair—the only thing in this place that looked remotely lived in. "I have magic!" I yelled at the chair.

Suddenly weary, I made my way back to the blanket and collapsed on top of it.

The bag knocked over, and I scrambled to get it upright again, pushing the dirt back inside. I zipped up the sides a little to help hold things in place and pushed it off the blanket.

"I have magic," I whispered, laying down on the blanket, careful to keep clear of the dirt remnants.

I knew just who to give the roses to. Arya. It would be her Christmas present, a hope for things to come.

Because if I could bring a plant back to life, there was a good chance there would be magic to bring a person back to life.

I closed my eyes. Just for a minute, I thought, as my mind drifted to thoughts of the grimoire and all the endless possibilities it held.

I started when the edges of a dream gave me the sensation of plummeting through the floor. I pushed myself up, unwilling to succumb to sleep, but collapsed again. I took a moment and stared at the ceiling.

This can't be right.

I rolled onto my side and forced myself into a seated position, squinting at the writing around the spell I'd just done. There was some handwriting there, personal notes someone had left behind that were hard to make out. It looked like super-fancy cursive. The page was torn in the middle, further obscuring one of the words.

"Uses something essence," I muttered what I could make out.

But what was the something? That blank had been bothering me for a while. I flipped the page and saw a little of the torn area had been bent back. I tugged gently at the edges and found an L, an O or an E, with maybe an I or a T or H between. I decided the middle one was an I and the end was an E, making it L-I-blank-E.

" Something essence, something essence."

Dread ran my blood cold as I stared at it again, realizing what it was saying. The spell used life essence to revive the plant. That would explain my fatigue. How much time did I lose? Was the life essence something that regenerated, or was it something you could use up? And if it took some to revive a plant, how much more would it take to revive a human?

"Maybe there's a workaround." I flipped through the pages, but I could only get so far before it felt like they were sticking together. I'd encountered this before but hadn't paid it much attention. But now, I needed more info. I needed to dig deeper.

The grimoire wasn't going to yield its secrets so easily. I had to be careful, trying to get past the wards. Witch curses were notoriously horrible.

Despite the dangers, I found the thought of cracking this thing open exhilarating.

"I should call Julian." Screw waiting for him to contact me. I'd been patient enough. Besides, he'd said to let him know as soon as I'd discovered anything. This had to qualify.

"Sedjed ka," I said before I had the chance to chicken out. The familiar ringing sensation prompted me to conjure thoughts of Julian. I smiled as I thought about how he'd react.

"Julian, it's Shea," I said when I felt the connection take. "Witch girl?"

"Shea?" Julian swore under his breath, though the words still carried through the connection clearly. "Where are you?"

"Oh. Um, at your apartment?" Maybe this was a really bad idea.

"Stay there, I'll be right over."

"Okie-dokie." I closed the connection, then panicked. How long did he mean for me to stay? Was he close by? And out during the day? That didn't make much sense. Vampires couldn't go out in the sunlight.

"Crap, the curtain!"

If he was upset that I was in his apartment, then he'd be pissed to find that I'd ruined one of the few things he owned. I'd meant to try to fix that, anyway, but had forgotten amid the excitement of the roses.

"Come on, come on, come on!" I muttered as I flipped through the pages of the grimoire. "Ah!"

The spell for mending cloth came into view, and I put my finger on the spot to help guide me through the incantation. I ran through the words once in my head to make sure I had it right.

" Khepri ifed." The hole in the curtain came together, but the sides weren't even, so it puckered. "No! Not like that."

I scanned over the page again, and found the one for patching holes, hoping it would fix it rather than making it worse.

"Hetem remy—ack!" The door opened before I could finish the spell, and my lack of concentration sent the fabric to puckering further, the spot turning a bright green color that started bleeding up the curtain like a vat of dye.

I stepped in front of the curtain, my cheeks burning as I faced Julian. "You got here quick."

Julian raised a brow. "Vampires are known for their speed."

"Right." And for being incredibly attractive.

He was even more handsome than I remembered from our encounter in the alleyway. And something about the way he was looking at me sent shivers racing up my spine. Something inside me screamed, "Danger! Danger!" But for some reason, the thrill his eyes ignited overrode the fear.

"You shouldn't be here," he said, grabbing the note from the counter.

"Sorry. I just, I don't really have anywhere to practice at home. I thought—"

Julian put the note back down, unopened. Not even a peek? "That's fine. I meant you shouldn't be in Chicago. There are vampires."

I put my hands on my hips. "You think? There's one standing in front of me right now."

Julian barely batted an eye. "Can you get back home before dark?"

"Of course! Don't you want to know why I called you?" I threw my hands in the air, letting them flop back down to my sides.

"Yes, but quickly, though. I don't want anyone to know about...any of this." Julian went to the fridge, and I put a hand over my mouth, hoping and praying he wasn't about to open it.

"Ooookay. See the roses?" I said, my voice muffled by my fingers.

Julian turned, brows furrowing as his gaze rested on me. "Yes. Your point?"

"They were dried." I gagged when Julian opened the fridge, nonchalantly reaching for one of the disgusting bags. "For the love of cheese, finish up already!"

Julian wore a smirk as he closed the doors. "Squeamish, are we?"

I gagged again, then nodded. Think about something else. Think about something else.

"So about these dried flowers?" Julian walked to where the bag sat on the ground, dropping into a squat that looked worthy of a magazine cover.

I managed a half-smile. I had his attention now. And he definitely had mine.

That's right. Think of the beautiful man in front of you and not the stuff he drinks.

I almost gagged again but managed to hold it together this time. Working with a vampire was not going to be easy.

Julian examined the flowers with a delicate touch. It was strange how he was both coarse and soft in the same breath.

"Can the same spell apply to a person?" Julian asked, really looking at me for what felt like the first time since he entered the apartment.

"No." As Julian's face fell, I pointed at the roses and added, "But if I can find a spell to do that, there might be something to do what you're asking."

"Good. Go home and keep looking." Julian stood and headed for the door, and my heart dropped. This wasn't the big congratulations I'd hoped for. And certainly nowhere near the heated encounter I'd been fantasizing about for days.

"Wait!" I called, hoping for just a little more time with him. "Do you have any more information about the witch who owned this book?"

Julian stilled at the door, his hand on the knob. "Why?"

"Because of the locking spells. I can't get to the really good stuff unless I know how to unlock it. What were they like? What did they do? Something that would help me figure out what they used in their spells. Maybe that trinket you have of hers?"

Julian sighed, his free hand going to his pocket. "Give me some time to work on it."

"And now's a bad time because?" I probed, pushing my luck as far as I could.

"I'll tell you that, if you tell me what happened to the curtain."

I stood there, mouth open but unsure what to say.

The arch of his eyebrow prompted a response, and I blurted, "I may have had a bit of a magical accident."

A smile slowly crept across his lips, and he stalked up to me, looking every bit like a deadly predator and making me feel every bit the helpless—but not entirely unwilling—victim.

He inhaled deeply as he hovered over me, his eyes fluttering closed. "You smell delicious ."

His words shot terror through me, and I glanced down at the still undrunk bag gripped in his right hand. He was thirsty. He was dangerous.

I should have run. I should have ducked around him, made some excuse, and shot out the door, skipping down the stairs instead of waiting for the stupid elevator.

But I didn't want to. Maybe it was the drain on my life force or whatever from that spell, but my legs refused to move. It probably had more to do with the heat radiating from my core under the hungry way he looked at me.

It wasn't just his thirst I was seeing in those dark eyes. It was desire, raw and powerful, and something about knowing the dangerous creature he was only made him more devastatingly appealing.

So I did something stupid, exactly the opposite of what I should be doing.

I took a step closer.