Under a Spell

“I was thinking I’d eat them, but whatever works.”

Chapter Four

I tried pulling my pillow over my head and then pulled ChaCha, my ever-trusty three-pound pup over that, but neither did anything to drown out the incessant pounding that was going on in my skull. ChaCha just rolled off me and went to work licking my eyebrows.

“Oh, ChaCha, stop. Mommy has a—” I was going to say headache, but once I sat up in the blackness, I realized the pounding wasn’t coming from my brain—it was coming from the living room.

The pounding started again and ChaCha jumped to attention, a stripe of hair zipping straight up along her back. She curled her little black lips back, exposing frightening—if miniscule—incisors, and growled.

A stripe of fear went down my own spine and I stopped breathing, listening.

Another three raps.

“Go get it, ChaCha,” I said, pointing. “Go defend your turf!”

ChaCha made a second fearsome growl followed by a pitiful yip as she disappeared under my sheets.

“Useless dog,” I grumbled.

I was halfway through the living room, on my way to our sword closet (it’s not that weird), when the pounding came again. It stopped and I stopped, my every living fiber taut with adrenaline.

“Nina?” I hissed.

There was no answer.

“Vlad?”

Again, silence.

Finally, the front door tore open in a Lucasfilm-style haze of whooshing wind and spitting fire.

“Holy crap!”

I stopped, dropped, and rolled. Somewhere in my subconscious I knew that was for earthquakes or bomb raids, but it didn’t seem to matter as chunks of my doorframe blistered and turned to charred dust on the ground. I was being choked by smoke and my eyes stung, but I worked to keep them open until I saw the figure walking through the flaming frame coolly, as if he didn’t feel the heat.

“Who are you?” I screamed. “What do you want?”

“Sophie?”

My heart was clanging like a fire bell and the soft voice saying my name only terrified me further. I knew that voice, I remembered that voice. I gulped, sour saliva dripping down my throat.

“O-o-Ophelia?” I asked, my lips burning from the heat. “Oh, God.”

Ophelia was a fallen angel. One whom, until apparently right this minute, had been dead, killed by yours truly, staked with a trident to a UDA corkboard. The fact that she was the baddest of the fallen angel brigade made her death warranted. The fact that she was my half sister made the whole thing incredibly complicated.

“Oh God, ohGod-ohGod-ohGod,” I mumbled to my hands.

“No, Sophie, it’s me!”

The darkened form came closer and I could clearly make out slim hips, a tiny waist, and thick braids. I squinted. “Kale?”

She did some sort of Samantha Stephens move and suddenly everything—the fire, my charred doorframe —was fine. I took the opportunity to roll out of the fetal position and thank my lucky stars that in my last few years of being surprised, attacked, and other, my bladder was starting to strengthen up quite nicely.

“What the hell are you doing here at”—I glanced at the suddenly non-melted clock next to the door—“three a.m. and what”—I flailed wildly at the door—“was that? Why the hell are you trying to burn my apartment down?”

Kale seemed to shrink into herself and her blue hair as a Corvette-red blush blanketed her cheeks. “I’m really sorry, Soph. But look—” She knocked on the doorframe. “No harm no foul. It was all magik. An illusion.”

“Great. Please tell that to my cardiologist because I’m about to drop dead. Why are you burning shit—illusion or otherwise—at this hour? And why my shit? I thought we were friends.”

Kale rushed toward me and took my hand in hers. “Oh, Sophie, of course we’re friends! This wasn’t for you.” It took a microsecond for the sweet, apologetic look in her eyes to change to one of fiery rage. “It was for Vlad.”

“Vlad’s not here,” I said, my teeth gritted, my breath coming out in spitting gasps. “He and Nina are probably at Poe’s.”

Vlad and Nina—and the rest of their vampire brethren—have no need for sleep and, really, abhor relaxation of any kind (another reason I’m A-okay not being one of the pointy-fanged undead). As the majority of the breathing world fell asleep during the wee hours, some shopkeepers saw their niche in the market and started opening up a select group of shops—bars, coffeehouses, etc.—specifically for their all-night clientele. Vlad and Nina had a special fondness for a little hole-in-the-artery place called Poe’s and spent at least a couple of nights there each week, brooding and drinking blood out of giant cappuccino bowls.

“So sorry about that. And you know, this.” Kale’s bottom lip started to wobble as I prayed for her to leave so I could drop back into my blissful dreams about sexy men and not murder. But I was a pushover. “Come in.”

She did and immediately flopped onto the couch. “I’m just so mad at Vlad. Did you hear what he did?”

“Allegedly,” I mumbled. “But Kale, it’s the middle of the night. You’re eighteen. You should save the blowing up of ex-boyfriends for daylight hours, young lady.” I stifled a yawn. “Besides, aren’t your parents going to be worried about you?”

Kale waved a nonchalant hand and sniffled. “My parents won’t even notice I’m gone.”

“Oh, Kale, I’m sure that’s not true!”

“No, I put an oblivion spell on them.” She turned her watery eyes to me. “Do you think I’m doing the right thing?”

I looked over her shoulder. “If you mean burning down doors at three a.m., no. If you mean trying to make Vlad pay his debts by throwing fireballs and whatnot at him? Still no. Ditto on the magical parental lobotomy. What’s all this really for, Kale? What do you want from Vlad?”

She sniffled again and used the heel of her hand to push the mascara-edged tears away. “I just want him to notice me.”

“Well, burning things might get you noticed, but not in the right way. Why don’t you try talking to him? Or, possibly sending him a nice, quiet text message?”

Kale heaved a weight-of-the-world sigh. “I don’t know. That’s really subtle. Do you think it would work?”

“I think it’s worth a try.”

She looked at her hands in her lap, shaking her head. A fresh round of tears rolled over her cheeks. “It has to work. You’re right, Sophie. I’m already nineteen. I don’t want to be alone forever.”

I bit into my bottom lip as Kale looked up at me with those round, earnest eyes. Eyes that truly believed that eighteen was, apparently, approaching the crest of “the hill” of which I was most notably over.

“I just don’t know how you do it. You don’t have anyone and you’re still just so confident.”

My left eye started to twitch. I pressed my index finger to it in a vain attempt at stopping the thrum. “You should probably head home now, Kale.”

Kale nodded and touched my hand softly. “Thanks, Sophie. You’re really wise.” She stood up and brushed her palms over her jeans. “And again, I’m sorry about waking you up.”

I swung the lock on the door and crawled into bed after Kale left, intent on getting at least another three hours of sleep.

I wasn’t going to be alone for the rest of my life, I reasoned. My life was very full with two incredible guys. One who was supernaturally bound to me and