Love Bites Then it Sucks by Julie Steimle (story books to read txt) 📖

said, “Yeah. She left a note.”

But Silvia stared at him, her voice going flat. “Left a note?”

Annoyed, Hans dug it out of his wallet where he kept it. He unfolded it and showed her. “Eve would not just leave me. She’s not like that.”

Silvia read it. Then she read it again, frowning. Handing it back, she said, “It looks like she got interrupted.”

Hanz nodded, almost folding it up, though Randon held out a hand for the letter to look at it. Passing it to him, Hanz said, “I don’t know what to do. But I don’t want to let her go. She deserves better.”

That woman’s eyes widened more on him, then she tugged at the letter Randon was now reading to look at it again. “She… she is asking for help here. And you’ve obviously contacted the Seven. But does she really believe that she can reach redemption by ending the vimp curse?”

Nodding, Hanz sighed. “Yeah. But I don’t know how to do that.”

“What if ending the curse kills her, though?” Daniel asked again, that being his main concern.

Peter frowned, the idea clearly not one he like either.

Sighing, Silvia shrugged. “I don’t know. But to end a curse is like untangling a knot. For example, to undo a gorewolf—”

“What’s that?” Hanz asked.

“It’s the first incarnation of a werewolf—a wolf turned man,” Daniel explained.

“To undo a gorewolf,” Silvia said again, “You have to have honey, garlic and a silver knife. And you stab the wolf with the honey and garlic-coated knife.”

“But that would kill the wolf,” Hanz protested.

Silvia nodded. “Yes, it would. But it is either that or the gorewolf kills you. So, yeah, undoing some spells does end in death—especially spells where the creation of some kind of demon is involved.”

Daniel cringed, watching Hanz who sat down on the couch, looking pale.

“The thing is,” Silvia added, “to undo most spells requires the items that are part of the creation of the spell. The ingredients. For a gorewolf, the spell requires the use of garlic, honey and silver on a full moon.”

“And for a vimp?” Peter asked, clearly wondering if this witch knew how a vimp was made.

Looking to him, Silvia snorted. “Waaaay difficult. You have to find the original spell first. And good luck with that. Some spells are so evil that they are expressly forbidden. Our coven tried to control that vimp—uh, Eve,” with a nod to Hanz, whose eyes widened on her when she said that. “And she could have killed everyone in that room. She bit nearly everyone.”

“Bit?” Hanz stared more, trying to recall what Eve had said about that incident. There was something about the witches making her drink blood they had somehow gotten from the Seven, and something else about not being in her right mind and doing things she never wanted to do. They were trying hard to keep her under mind control.

He could see Silvia cringe as she replied, “Yeah.” And she pulled up her sleeve and showed a bite mark. “I was there.”

Daniel averted his eyes, restraining words he clearly wanted to have with his sister. But Hanz stared at the bite. The scar was clean mark showing a fair set of Eve’s teeth, clearly not the kind of bite he had seen in a dog attack at the hospital. It was not one meant to tear and eat, though it could have been a ‘sucking’ bite, as he assumed a vampire would use.

“At the time, I was on track to becoming a major witch in the coven,” Silvia admitted, keeping her arm on display. She gazed apologetically to Daniel. “I didn’t…” she sighed, shaking her head. “I didn’t realize how wrong it was. But I was impressed at how hard Eve fought to keep her free will—and how she did not even kill one of us when she could have. Born demon or not—she is a good person. She is one of the reasons I decided to leave the coven.”

Her brother stared at her with surprise.

Randon smiled. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and kissed her on the head.

“What was the other reason?” Peter asked, his eyes deep with interest.

“Reasons,” Silvia corrected. She then glanced to Hanz then looked to Daniel. “Actually, it started when Howie Deacon came back to Middleton Village, and you—” she poked her brother in the chest, “came over and asked for my help to find that hunter who was after him.”

Daniel’s face colored, his cheeks going hot.

“Wickedness survives in loveless places,” Silvia said. “But the fact that you were willing to come to me and acknowledge me as your sister—that made all the difference.” Tears were in her eyes, and she smiled at him.

Immediately, Daniel hugged her.

Hanz was breathless watching it. And he felt chastened. He had judged Silvia before knowing her. It wasn’t kind.

“Audry Bruchenhaus convinced me to actually leave the coven, even without meaning to,” Silvia said, wiping her eyes while pulling out of her brother’s hug. “Even before we were friends.”

All three men raised their eyebrows, clearly knowing this Audry.

“Anyway,” Randon interrupted, “Back on topic—Tom’s text to me. Vampires. My friend Troy. Plan of action?”

Daniel nodded, letting go of his sister. “Where is your friend now?”

Peter nodded, listening.

Thinking as he drew in a breath, Randon said, “He’s studying for his degree in Medicine and Occult Folklore.”

 “A degree in what?” Hanz stared up from the couch.

Looking to him, Randon nodded. “You heard me right. Occult Folklore. But I think his PhD is technically in something like Pathology and Pharmacology. Troy had been researching cures for vampire bite.”

Hanz stared more. “And why?”

“Troy was bit by a vampire,” Daniel said.

“Two vampires,” Randon corrected, raising two fingers. “His mother and his father.”

Hanz felt sick. And confused. He was sure, according to Eve, that vampires, being undead, don’t give birth.

Seeing his confusion, Peter sat next to him, whispering, “They became vampires when he was a kid. I never met him, but Howie—uh, Rick—told me all about him. Troy has been in hiding from his parents—any vampire really—since he got bit.”

This was too much. Hanz swayed a little and murmured, “Does a bite make…?”

“No,” Randon said. “It’s just a bite. You don’t become a vampire from a bite any more than you would become a werewolf by a bite. It’s just the bite doesn’t heal. The bite becomes an oozing wound—which he’s had since he was bit, and he wants to cure.”

“Oh.” That made sense to Hanz. His head felt more level now.

“So where is he studying that?” Daniel asked.

“New York Medical College in Valhalla,” Randon said.

“Valhalla?” Silvia peeked to Hanz who had set a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes.

“It’s a small hamlet near Westchester,” Randon said. “North of New York City.”

“How far north?” Peter asked.

Randon shrugged. “Come to think of it, I don’t know. North.”

They nodded.

“We can look it up on a map,” Peter said, rising from the couch. “In the meantime, have you called your friend?”

Randon nodded. “I texted him. He does not respond to the phone. He spends most of his time in the library and his ringer is always off. The thing is, you never know how often he checks his phone.”

“It sounds like he wants to be left alone,” Daniel murmured.

Silva nodded.

Hanz frowned. He had those moments, though he only turned off his ringer when he was in class or at work. And a cell phone was not allowed in certain places of the hospital. He mostly kept his phone on vibrate, just in case Eve called.

“Did Tom say where the vampires were congregating in New York City?” Daniel asked.

Randon showed him the message again. “You are seeing what I see.”

“Does Tom know where your friend Troy is studying?” Daniel asked.

Randon nodded. “Yeah. Tom might pop in to bug him, but that’s all we can do.”

Daniel exchanged a look with Peter. “Then that’s all we can do, also. All of us should keep alert.”

“And eat lots garlic,” Silvia muttered, going to the pizza to steal a slice.

Hanz leaned back in the couch. His problem with Eve had taken the backseat. Not that he liked it, but it had to. The thing that chilled him the most, was that he was really the only ordinary person in the room, and it was overwhelming. Being with Eve had always been like going on a run. It left him breathless but felt great afterwards. With these folk, it was like being in the middle of a tornado. Each rushed and whirled with their individual burdens of chaos. He could feel it. He had felt it back when he had first met Daniel with Rick Deacon, Tom Brown, and James Peterson—just trying to help out that kid Roddy. But he had never understood it until now. The rush he got with Eve was the same thing—a savage, higher-energy form of living. It was the same rush he got from skydiving, kayaking, and river rafting—only more dangerous.

“Hanz?” Daniel waved a hand in front of his eyes.

Blinking, Hanz looked up at him.

“You look totally wiped. Just pull out the couch. We might be late tonight,” Daniel said.

Hanz would have protested, but he realized he was beat and needed an out. Nodding, he staggered to the couch and kicked off his shoes, not bothering to pull it out into a bed. He flopped onto it, amazed with himself at how easily he was able to shut out their conversation when the other four continued talking. He was sure vampires and witchcraft had to be the topic.

 

A New York Minute

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twelve

 

 

 

I waited for when those angels would drag me to somewhere in the city for their angel tribunal, or whatever. And waited. And waited.

It was annoying how they made me wait. It was like reverse Christmas. Instead of getting excited for a present, I was dreading the final moment. And when an imp dropped a box of jelly donuts on my head, I remembered that I needed to return the backpack to that kid, Cassius. With donut box in hand, I gave up waiting and decided to roam the neighborhood. It was dark by now. Only the creepers, the homeless, those on swing shift, and the fools were out. I noticed the medium walking home from the hospital and I walked alongside her. A mark of death was on her forehead, but was still faint.

“Why do you go to the hospital all the time?” I asked. “Are you sick?”

She jumped, grabbing her chest. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack? I swear you make no noise.”

Sheepish, I chuckled, taking a side step to give her space. “No. I wasn’t trying anything. But is death supposed to make a noise?”

“I wish it did,” she murmured, continuing on.

“So why do you go to the hospital so much?” I asked again, taking out a donut while also offering her one. “Are you a hypochondriac?”

Groaning, the medium said while eyeing the donut, refusing it, “No. *Hmph*. I am simply doing my rounds, like you.”

I raised my eyebrows, the powdered sugar leaving dust around my mouth.

“I visit the dead and help them with their unfinished business,” she said. “They just happen to congregate at hospitals—for obvious reasons. It’s where they die.”

That amazed me.

“I hope to get to them before you do,” she said with a huff.