Scarlet Heat (Born to Darkness) (34 page)

“I’m going to burn it with six drops of your
blood.” She frowned at me. “I don’t suppose you have anything of Victor’s on
you, do you? A strand of hair maybe? Or a fingernail clipping?”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry—it never occurred to
me to bring anything like that and well, I took a shower tonight after…after. Does
that mean this won’t work? Since we don’t have anything of his to add to the
mix?” A surge of hope coursed through me. Maybe I wouldn’t have to break our
bond after all!

Gwendolyn frowned. “In most cases I’d say yes.
But in this case…you’re drinking from Victor and no one else, right?”

I nodded. “Well, yes.”

“Good. Then your blood will do for both you and
him—it came from him originally but it’s been circulating through your body.
Perfect, actually.”

My sudden hope died abruptly.“Oh. Okay.”

She looked at me sharply. “Look, if you don’t
want to do this…”

“No.” I lifted my chin. “No, I
need
to. But…”

“But what?” she asked impatiently.

“Well…” I cleared my throat. “I, uh, heard you
and um, Laish talking and he said something about how you doing this spell for
me will cast a shadow on your soul…?”

She shifted uncomfortably.

“Look, sweetie, you worry about your soul and let
me worry about mine. I’m fine and I want to do this deal—but only if you’re
sure.”

I thought of Victor lying there all bloody and
bitten and scratched, his arm over his eyes, unable to look at me.

“Yes,” I said softly. “Yes, let’s do it.”

“All right.” Gwendolyn held out her palm. “Then
give me your hand. I need your blood to make this work.”

She pierced my middle finger with the point of
the silver dagger, which she told me was called an athame, and carefully
squeezed out twelve drops of blood—six for me and six for Victor—over the
chopped pile of demon’s breath in the silver bowl. She collected twelve more
drops for herself in a little glass vial and then put it aside.

“All right,” she said. “Now for the fire. You
might feel this a little.”

She struck one long fireplace match and touched it
to the bloody demon’s breath. It burned surprisingly well considering it was
wet with both blood and the ruby red sap.

At first I didn’t notice anything but a little
warmth and tingling in my hands and feet. But then the burning sensation began
in my veins.

“Ah!” I gasped, jumping in surprise.

Gwendolyn looked up, a concerned expression in
her eyes.

“Are you all right?”

“No!” I looked down at my arms, half expecting to
see flames leaping from them. There was nothing to see but plenty to feel—the
sensation of being set on fire from the inside out was spreading up from my
hands and feet and into my arms, legs, and core.

“What is it? What do you feel?” Gwendolyn asked
anxiously.

“
Burning
.”
I writhed helplessly on the couch. “God, it
hurts!
Is this normal?”

“I don’t know!” Gwendolyn bit her lower lip.
“I’ve never tried to break such a strong bond before. Usually when I do a spell
like this at least one of the people involved hates the other one.”

“Then this shouldn’t be so hard. Victor
does
hate me,” I protested. Or if he
didn’t, he should. The burning was spreading to the pit of my stomach now and I
felt like any minute it would engulf my heart. “Gwendolyn,
please—
do something!”

“It’s almost ash.” She stirred the bowl with the
tip of her athame. “The pain will be gone once the last of the demon’s breath
is consumed. Just hang in there.”

“I’ll…try,” I said through gritted teeth. The
burning was all through me now, flames licking from my toes to my hairline, one
solid wash of fiery agony. I tried to hold still but I couldn’t help twisting
in pain. God, it was
awful.

Just as I felt like I couldn’t take it anymore,
the burning flowers gave one last puff of nasty smelling smoke and the flames
went out.

“Ah…” I sagged back in relief against the floral
couch. “That was
horrible
.” A sudden
thought occurred to me. “Does…is Victor feeling this too?”

“If he still loves you, I’m afraid so,” Gwendolyn
said.

I gave a sigh of relief. “Then he should be fine.
So…I’m only hurting because I still…still have feelings for him?”

She nodded. “It’s your love for him that brings
you pain with the breaking of your bond. Are you
sure
you want to do this? I’m afraid the next part might hurt
considerably more.”

I gave a shaky laugh. “More than being set on
fire from the inside out? Wow, you really need to give out some kind of
disclaimer before you do this kind of spell.”

She spread her hands. “Like I said, I don’t
usually try to break a bond this strong. Considering the fact you’ve only been
bonded a little over a month, it’s phenomenal how deep and ingrained it is.
Almost like…”

“Like what?” I asked.

Gwendolyn looked down. “Like it was meant to be.
Look, are you
sure—?”

“Do it,” I said, trying to sound stoic and
failing. “Just…please, hurry. Okay?”

She nodded briskly. “Going as fast as I can.”

Scooping the powdery ashes from the bowl, she
pressed them into the black waxy lump and kneaded them in. Then her long, slim
fingers began to work, molding the lump into a figure—or rather, two figures. I
watched in fascination as they took form—a large, muscular man and a tall,
slender but curvy woman with long flowing hair. The figures were formed from
the same lump of clay and were connected—standing with their arms around each
other.

“That’s Victor and me.” I looked up at her with
amazement. “You know, if you ever decide to give up the witchcraft thing, you
could have a career in art.”

“Thanks,” she said dryly. “But I’d rather be a
well fed witch than a starving artist any day. And this…isn’t supposed to be
this way. Let me try again.”

Rapidly she pulled the figures apart and reformed
them, a frown of concentration on her delicate features. Again the figures
formed, looking like exact miniatures of Victor and myself, face to face with
our arms around each other.

I thought they looked really good but Gwendolyn
swore in obvious irritation.

“Damn it—what is going
on
here?” she muttered.

I watched as she tore the figures apart, balled
them up, and formed them a third time…with the same result.

“What is it?” I asked at last. “What’s going
wrong?”

“I don’t know.” She looked up at me. “They’re
supposed to be standing back to back—symbolic of hate. But somehow you two keep
coming up face to face.” She shook her head. “Are you
sure
about this, Taylor? Something or someone out there
really
doesn’t want me to break this
bond.”

I thought of Victor again—how he couldn’t even
look at me. The choked sound in his voice when he told me to go.

“Yes,” I whispered, feeling like I might cry. “Go
ahead—do it.”

“There are probably going to be consequences for
this,” she warned me. “A blood-bond carries its own warding—a kind of
protective spell around the bonded parties. You’re going to lose that if I do
this.”

“I know there will be consequences,” I said
calmly. “I’ve been warned. So what happens next?”

Gwendolyn sighed. “Well, normally I would make
this into a candle and put a wick right between the two of you, here.” She
pointed to the spot in the middle where the Victor figure was joined to the
Taylor figure. “Then I would burn the candle until it melted the two of you
apart. But I’m afraid that might be really long and drawn out.”

“Not to mention extremely freaking painful,” I
said, trying to keep my voice from shaking.

She gave me a level look. “I won’t lie to you,
Taylor—this is going to hurt
a lot
no
matter how we do it. The question is, do you want the pain drawn out or should I
get it over with all at once?”

“All at once,” I said. “Like ripping off a
bandage.”

“Good call.” She lifted the silver athame and
held it like a butcher knife above the wax figurines. “Okay, here goes.”

“Do it.” I clenched my hands into fists, waiting
for the pain. But instead of chopping immediately, Gwendolyn took a deep breath
and began to chant in a low, melodious voice.

“Herein I place Taylor’s name,

And humbly ask the sacred flame,

Release her now from blood-bond’s power,

Make her stronger by the hour.

Cleanse her soul and set her free

So bonded she’ll no longer be

Free of blood and bond and pain

Ashes only shall remain.

So mote it be.”

Then with a swift, chopping motion, she brought
the athame down, slicing the wax figurines apart with one brutal slice.

My back arched in pain as I felt the stroke like
a knife in my heart—chopping me in two. Severing me from Victor and cutting the
tie that bound us together.

For a moment I could only writhe in pain. God, it
hurt so
much!
It was ten times worse
than the burning I’d experienced earlier. The stabbing sensation like a knife
in my chest, my inability to draw breath—was this what a heart attack felt
like? Was I dying now? My hands curled into fists and tears gathered in my eyes
as I fought the pain, feeling like I was drowning in agony.

“Taylor? Taylor, are you all right?” Gwendolyn
was leaning over me, patting my cheek. “I’m sorry, sweetie, I didn’t know it
would be this bad. Come on—breathe…”

Some vampires don’t need to breathe anymore but I
had never lost the habit. It was a great relief when I was finally able to drag
some much-needed air into my lungs. I lay on Gwendolyn’s couch panting, the
tears streaming from the corners of my eyes, trying to make sure I was still
alive.

“Are you okay?” she asked again, anxiously. “My
God, you scared me to death! I thought I was going to have to do CPR.”

“CPR on a vampire? We’re already dead, remember?”
I tried to laugh but couldn’t quiet manage.

“You’re okay then? Do you feel any different?”

I looked at the two figurines, lying severed on
her coffee table.

“No…yes. Yes, I think I do.”

“How?” she asked anxiously. “Do you feel lighter?
Freer? That’s what I usually hear from female clients when I do a spell like
this.”

“I feel it here.” I rubbed my chest, over my
heart. “It’s like…a wound. Like a hole inside me opened up and I don’t
know…don’t know how to close it.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Gwendolyn put an arm around me. “I
shouldn’t have done it. I’m so sorry.”

“No…” I sniffed and swiped at my eyes, leaving
bloody tracks on the backs of my hands. “I…I asked you to. It was for the best.
It just…it hurts, you know?”

“I know,” she murmured. “But hopefully it won’t
hurt so much in time. Just give yourself time…time to heal.”

“Right.” I straightened up and forced myself to
get off her couch. “Okay, well…I guess we’re done here.”

“You don’t have to go right away,” she said,
rising to join me. “Stay a while if you need to recover. I’ll make you some
tea—or you can have some more pickles.”

I shook my head. “No thanks. I just…really all I
want to do is go home and climb in bed and pull the covers over my head.”

“I understand,” she said quietly. “Even when you
have to end something for the best, it still hurts.”

Hurts
wasn’t the word I would have
chosen. I was in agony inside—it felt like my soul was bleeding. Like I would
never be whole again. My only consolation was that Victor hadn’t felt anything.
He couldn’t—his love for me was already gone. Now the only thing to do was go
home and wait for my love for him to die as well.

As if it ever could.

“I should go,” I said dully, getting the keys to
Addison’s car. “I’m tired. I need to rest.”

“Let me know if there’s anything else I can do
for you.” Gwendolyn looked at me for a long moment then came and gave me a warm
hug.

I was shocked at first—she didn’t seem like the
hugging kind. Or maybe she was just really picky about who she was affectionate
with. But I appreciated her kindness—it made me feel a little less ragged, a
little less desperate. Slowly, I hugged her back.

“Thanks,” I whispered when we finally pulled
apart.

“You’re welcome,” Gwendolyn said. She looked at
me thoughtfully. “You know, I don’t usually care for vampires but you’re all
right.”

I laughed weakly. “You sound like Addison—she
used to
hate
all vamps but me. She
says I should be the poster child for vampire tolerance.”

“Right. I could see that.” Gwendolyn smiled.
“Please let me know if you need anything else—anything at all.”