1305 & 1306 The Oracle & the Vampire (The 13th Floor) (4 page)

Kerr licked his lips and rolled over.

Harriet found Elli in her favorite spot on the highest bookshelf in the living room. She rattled the can. “Treats, sweetie.”

The tabby stuck her nose in the air and didn’t budge.

Harriet took out two treats and placed them on the edge of the shelf near Elli. She could apologize again, but Elli wasn’t one to listen. Sometimes she wondered how she ended up with familiars that had no respect for her. Maybe because they were strays before she adopted them?

No, she knew the real reason. It was her curse. How could her familiars respect her if she couldn’t even remove a curse from herself? She was a witch. Not just an herbalist, but one with magic in her blood. Her ancestors were powerful witches and she’d learned the arts from her favorite Aunt Kyna.

Sighing, Harriet returned the can of treats to the cupboard and cleaned herself up. She’d grab a few things at the store before coming back to wait until sundown.

The next vision hit when she was changing her shoes. Gremlins viciously attacked a man. Small, black beasts. His friend panicked and tried to shoot the monsters, but killed his buddy instead. He ran screaming as the evil things laughed.

Harriet froze in the hall, waiting for the change and the screams. There was a tickling of the urge, but it didn’t happen. Perhaps because it was still too early? It was odd to have a vision before sunset, but it’d happened before with particularly horrific scenes like that one. And it fit in with the horrors she’d seen in her dreams.

Hopefully she’d be able to catch Kiral before she changed. It was likely going to be a very long night.

Leaving the building, Harriet breathed in the fresh air. Her nose twitched. Something wasn’t right. Not that she had a keen sense of smell like Stefanie, but there was an odor. Faint and foul.

Carmine wasn’t in America’s top places to live, but she had a powerful soul. Harriet visited the city once when she was a girl with her father. His interest was the history. Hers became the magic flowing through Carmine’s veins.

She attended nursing school here and discovered the thirteenth floor while visiting a friend who lived in the building during her second year. Harriet found Kerr and Elli not long after. They walked up to the thirteenth floor and into her apartment as if they’ve been doing it their whole lives. Everything fell into place telling her she was meant to be in Carmine.

Everything would be perfect if she could save Kiral and rid herself of her curse.

First thing first. Groceries and then Kiral.

A scream shattered her thoughts. Across the road, someone smashed a window and jumped from the eighth floor. Her red hair streamed behind her like a comet’s tail as she fell. The sound of a human body breaking as it hit the sidewalk jolted Harriet into action.

Harriet raced across the street, ignoring the blaring of horns as cars screeched to a stop. The eighth floor. Maybe the woman survived.

A crowd began to form. People screamed and cried. Harriet fell to her knees next to the woman, staining her skirt with blood. She didn’t dare move the jumper, but pressed her fingers to her neck. No pulse.

The redhead’s eyes stared upwards with her mouth hanging slightly open as if she couldn’t believe she was dead. Harriet tenderly closed the woman’s eyes with a stab of guilt that she couldn’t save her. Logically she knew there wasn’t anything she could’ve done, but her father had always joked that Harriet wanted to save the world.

She would if she could.

There was nothing she could do here. Standing, Harriet caught a glimpse of something black out of the corner of her eye. Goosebumps decorated her arms. When she turned, there wasn’t anything there, but she never doubted the things she saw out of the corner of her eyes.

She wished Carmine could speak to tell her what was going on.

Around the next block, a cat yowled. Not one in heat. No, it was in agony.

Harriet ran, bloodied skirt sticking to her knees. Turning into an alley, she stopped and studied the shadows. Too dark. The sun hadn’t set yet. Why were they so large?

Sirens wailed in the distance. An ambulance coming for the poor woman. No one paid attention to a cat’s howling.

Stepping into the alley, the feline’s pained cries abruptly ended. Harriet’s skin crawled. The darkness was unnatural.

She’d dedicated her life to healing and wasn’t a warrior witch. What could she do against evil creatures without preparing a spell or potion? Harriet wet her lips and let out a long breath. Be smart. Take one step at a time.

The dark. Every instinct told her not to walk into it. She wasn’t going to leave without seeing if the cat was all right, though.

So take care of the darkness. That was easy enough. One of the first summoning spells she’d learned from her aunt was to call forth a willow-o’-the-wisp.

Harriet murmured the spell—more a call for aid—and swirled her left hand in the air around three times counter-clockwise. A lot of magic was simple since it was a matter of intent.

Something fluttered over her shoulder bringing a soft, shifting blue and pink light. Harriet smiled and thanked the wisp for coming. As a girl, she was enchanted by the wisps and annoyed them by calling on them too often. This one bobbed in the air, but it wasn’t excitement Harriet felt from it.

“I know. Something’s not right, but there’s a cat in trouble here. I only want to see if she’s okay.” The request was innocent, but somehow, it hung heavily between them.

The wisp flitted back and forth before shining brighter as it moved deeper into the alley. There were no more tortured noises. No sounds at all. Which was even creepier than the yowling.

Harriet motioned to a dumpster about fifty feet away. “I think it was coming from there.”

Pinks and blues swirled to deeper violets, but the wisp continued to inch forward. Daring things, but not stupid.

Twenty feet from the dumpster, the shadows refused to budge any more for the ball of light. The wisp floated up, but even from above, its light didn’t penetrate the darkness.

Harriet’s legs were suddenly swept out from under her. She fell on her rear with a grunt and bent one wrist awkwardly. Hissing, she held the arm against her chest and rubbed it as she quickly drew her legs in to stand.

Something grabbed her right ankle and yanked her toward the dumpster. No form or aura. Not even movement in the shadows themselves.

Kicking and screaming, Harriet tried to stop herself with her other foot. Whatever had her out-muscled her, though. There was nothing to grab, and glancing over her shoulder, no one paused to look down the alley as they passed. It was as if she were cut off from the rest of the world.

Whatever had her was determined to drag her behind the dumpster. It was completely black behind there. Panic threatened to steal away her self-control, but Harriet couldn’t let that happen.

The wisp zipped down to her, but its light didn’t extend more than an inch or two. It was as if it were contained in black construction paper. It flickered as it tried to pump up its luminosity, but it could do nothing against whatever had inhabited the alley.

Harriet braced her left foot on the edge of the dumpster. She screamed again and pushed herself back, but the thing wouldn’t let go. Its grip tightened around her ankle, biting into the flesh.

There was nothing there for her to fight. What more could she do?

More. More light.

Her voice trembled as she called for more willow wisps. Over and over, she uttered the spell. A mantra to save her from this unseen enemy.

Two, four, eight, sixteen. Two dozen wisps zoomed toward her. Lights brighter than the headlights of an approaching big rig.

One little wisp couldn’t force back the darkness, but the great group enveloped her body with illumination. Whatever had her ankle let go, shrinking back behind the dumpster.

Harriet caught a glimpse of a mangled feline, innards split in opposite directions. There would be no saving the cat. Scrambling to her feet, she could still save herself.

With a few whispers, the wisps formed a brilliant shield around her. Not that Harriet could see anything in the darkness, so she kept her eyes on it as she backed out of the alley. Terror demanded she run, but she’d lose her helpmates then.

Nothing came for her, but when she was safely out of the alley, she was reluctant to send away the wisps. People were staring, but it didn’t matter. They’d reason it out to be something mundane.

Thanking the wisps, Harriet stood under a lamppost as she released them. They twirled and zipped around the pole before disappearing into the late afternoon sky. She leaned against the post, breathing heavily, with one hand clutched to her chest.

There was nothing she knew that could do this. No creature, no spell. Even more so, no purpose. She was the only fool that came to check on the poor cat.

No one paused to ask if she was all right. Many people were running along the streets. More sirens echoed from downtown. What was going on in Carmine?

Another vision slammed into her. Her head fell back. Monsters, blood, destruction.

Her screams drowned out the sirens.

CHAPTER 6

Kiral jerked out of the chair in the same second he opened his eyes. Harriet!

When had he drifted off? He didn’t feel as though the sun had set, and a quick glance at the antique clock showed it was nearly six.

He threw open his door, darted across the hall, and knocked on apartment 1305’s door. The lights in the corridor dimmed. Harriet had to be there. He needed her to be there.

When there was no response, he knocked louder. A cat hissed from the other side, but there were no other sounds. Kiral pressed his ear to the wood and listened. Only two very quick heartbeats. Just the cats.

His head twisted toward the other end of the hall. Was Harriet still at Marc’s? Would Marc allow him to see her if he asked? Not likely, but he found himself already standing in front of apartment 1301.

At least Harriet would hear him, know that he wanted to talk to her, that he was sorry.

There was no answer from Marc’s apartment, and listening, there wasn’t any sign of life.

Kiral cursed, threw a fist at the air, and smacked his back up against the wall. He slid down to crouching position and ran his hands through his hair. Her scent was still lingering in the hall, and he could almost feel her warm body pressed to his. Her surrender was his undoing.

Where was she?

He could go back to his apartment and wait. That was the most logical option. This time he wouldn’t fall asleep until he saw her.

Standing, Kiral couldn’t force himself to go back to his place. Waiting wasn’t an option. He needed to find her.

The old woman wasn’t home either. Maybe Harriet and her grandmother went out together. That meant they couldn’t be gone for long nor could they’ve gone too far. Kiral could track her by scent. He wasn’t a hunter like some of his kind. His prey had always been from the city and easy enough to find in the gutter.

He didn’t need to be a hunter. She was in him, body and mind. He’d be able to find her anywhere.

Entering the stairwell, he nearly flew down the stairs and came to an abrupt halt in the lobby. Shadows covered the streets, but the sun hadn’t fully set. If he stayed out of the direct rays, he’d be fine, but that wasn’t what stopped him.

Something small and black raced over the tops of cars, which moved slowly along the street. Human eyes wouldn’t have caught it, but Kiral’s did. It wasn’t a cat or dog or even a bird. It was built more like a shaved monkey, but it wasn’t an animal from this realm. It was no animal at all.

What was that thing doing in Carmine?

Harriet.

She was out there with something foul. Kiral was out the front door in the blink of an eye. She wasn’t anywhere on the street coming home. He took in a deep breath and nearly gagged.

It wasn’t the pollution or unwashed humans. There was a stench in the air that he hadn’t smelled in decades. He was ashamed to know what it was, but he had been born in a different time and fire had been the church’s great purification tool.

Burning flesh. Human.

Kiral wondered for a moment if it could be a flashback. A scent from his memories. It wasn’t unusual for addicts to have those, but the odor was too fresh. Too real.

Harriet.

He breathed in again, steeling his stomach against the sweetly putrid perfume. There was no way to pick out Harriet’s scent. Not now.

Circling the block three times and staying out of the sun, panic threatened to overcome him. The constant wail of sirens didn’t help his anxiety. Grasping for some sort of calm, his craving gnawed at him. One bite of someone on downers, then he’d be able to think.

No. No one but Harriet. No one else would ever be able to compare.

Kiral took off at a run. Cafés and restaurants. Maybe she was out for dinner with her grandmother. They could even be picking up a few things from the store.

A few minutes turned into half an hour and then an hour. Why couldn’t he find her?

The sun had disappeared in the west. Night brought more sirens, screams, and fires. Smoke billowed up from all four corners of the city. Perhaps Harriet went to help. He’d only shared the bite with her, but she was a compassionate soul. She’d helped him after all.

She wouldn’t be able to bring her grandmother, though. Kind as the crone was, she couldn’t get around in emergency situations. Unless she was already out mourning the dead.

Check the apartment again.

Kiral’s body went rigid as he turned toward home. The coppery aroma of fresh blood grasped him and led him half a block in the opposite direction.

A tall apartment building sat five feet from a much shorter and newer one. A shimmering pool of blood looked black as none of the streetlights could reach it. Kiral was motionless. His fangs pinched his lower lip.

He blinked as a ripple went through the puddle. For a few seconds, he thought it was beckoning him closer, to lick up the blood as if he were a dog. When it rippled again, he caught sight of the drop that had caused it. He tilted his head back, looking up to the source.