The Sacrifice (2 page)

“How should I know?” he snaps. “You’re the expert—you tell me.”

I take a deep breath, reminding myself to be professional. “It
depends on what kind of spell you’re casting or what kind of potion you’re
making?” I end the sentence as a question, raising my eyebrows at him, hoping
he’ll fill me in.

“It’s a potion,” he says reluctantly. “I really can’t say any more
than that. Look, just give them to me dried.”

“All right.” If he wants to be an asshole, I don’t care how his
potion works out. I come out from behind the counter and start hustling around
the store, grabbing the herbs he named. We keep most of our merchandise up
front on the various shelves which means technically he could get them himself.
But it’s clear Mr. Tall, Dark, and High-handed is used to being waited on so I
take it upon myself to get what he’s demanding.

When I turn around, I see him watching me closely. For some
reason, I feel my cheeks get hot. I’m wearing jeans and a modest crew neck
T-shirt but somehow it feels like those cool gray eyes can see right through my
clothes.
Don’t be stupid,
I tell myself uneasily.
As if someone like
him would look at someone like you.
“Um, is there anything else?” I ask,
trying not to let him see that his eyes on me disturb me.

“Hmm?” He looks at me speculatively. “Oh, yes—I also need adder’s
tongue, cinnamon, cedar—”

“Hang on.” I go and get the things he’s naming, collecting them
easily—all except the adder’s tongue. We don’t get much call for that one and
it’s stored on the highest shelf in the store. Feeling self-conscious, I
stretch up on my tiptoes, trying to reach it. I can brush the red tin it’s
stored in with my fingertips but I can’t quite—

All at once I realize he’s right behind me. “Allow me,” he
murmurs. I can feel the heat of his big body along my spine as he reaches over
my head and easily plucks the red tin of adder’s tongue from the top shelf. He
isn’t actually touching me, but he’s not far from it, either.

I turn quickly to find my face just inches from his broad chest.
When I look up, I’m confronted with those cool gray eyes again. He’s studying
me as though I’m some kind of a bug he wants to know more about. I can feel his
power, throbbing like a beating heart between us. Whatever he is, he’s one
dominant son of a bitch, that’s for damn sure.

“Oh!” I try to take a step back but the shelf is in the way. I
only succeed in making the various jars and tins of dried and fresh herbs jangle
against each other.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, but he makes no move to back up and give
me more space. “I didn’t mean to frighten you—I was only trying to help.”

“You didn’t frighten me,” I lie, lifting my chin. He might be a
hot, powerful supernatural whatever he is (I still don’t know his species) but
I’ll be damned if I let him intimidate me in my own shop. For a moment we lock
eyes. Mine widen and his narrow—it’s strangely intimate and also disconcerting.
Who
is
he?

Finally, I manage to look away and sidle farther from him, putting
some space between us. “What else do you want?” My words come out sounding
rude—almost belligerent—but being this close to a male, especially such a
large, dominant alpha male, isn’t something I’m used to.

He clears his throat and consults the list again. “Cedar, ginseng,
and rue. And that should do it.”

I shake my head. “No, not that last one. You don’t want rue.”

“Excuse me?” He gives me a displeased frown. “You don’t even know
what kind of potion I’m concocting.”

“Yes, I do,” I say, feeling calmer now that I’m out of his general
proximity. I go back behind the counter, cementing my authority here as the
witch in charge. “You’re making a divination serum,” I tell him. “Probably to
help you find your true love.”

“What?” For the first time he looks genuinely angry. Not just
pissed or snappish but really irate. “Who told you that?” he demands, striding
toward me. He has long legs so it only takes two steps to put him right in my
face. I’m glad we have the counter between us, not that he couldn’t just step
over it, as tall as he is.

“No one told me,” I snap right back. “It’s obvious. Look—you’ve
got mugwort, that’s good for clairvoyance. Serpentavia root and adder’s tongue
for divination. Rosemary and cedar for purification and love. Cinnamon for lust
and ginseng for, uh, sexual potency.” I clear my throat, feeling my cheeks get
red at the intent way he is studying me.

“And?” he demands.

“And so you don’t want rue,” I say, nodding to the shelf where the
herb is kept. “Rue is for exorcisms and hexes. Adding it to a true love
divination serum would ruin the whole thing. I mean, you want to find the
girl…or guy, right?” (Hey, what do I know about his sexual orientation? I can’t
even tell what kind of supe he is.)

His face darkens. “It’s a
female
I am searching for, I can
assure you of that.”

“Okay, sorry.” I hold up my hands in a 'don’t shoot' gesture. “But
anyway, you want to find her and bind her to you, not hex her. Rue would ruin a
perfectly good serum.”

“And you’re sure of this, how?” He leans over me, looking into my
eyes, obviously trying to intimidate me.

I look right back and frown at him. “Besides getting a degree in
herbology and horticulture? An entire lifetime spent in this shop, learning the
properties of every known herb at my mother and aunt’s knee. Believe me Mr…”

“James,” he says, drawing back marginally. “Aiden James.”

“Believe me, Mr. James,” I said, ignoring his offered hand. “If a
witch of my lineage tells you not to put rue in your love potion, you’d better
pay attention.”

“It’s
not
a love potion,” he says, frowning at me. “None of
this is about love. I just need to find the right one.”

“The right one for what?” I demand.

“None of your business, nosey little witch.” He glares at me
frostily. “You don’t need to know.”

That’s technically true but I don’t like being insulted in my own
store. Well, my family’s store but it
feels
like mine since I run it.
“That’s it.” I point to the door. “You can leave now if you want to be rude.”

“Is that so?” He leans forward again and bares white, even teeth.
To my surprise, I see two long, curving fangs where a normal male’s canine
teeth would be. Holy crap—he’s a vampire! I’m stunned and more than a little
afraid—I’ve never seen one who could hide it so well. He’s scary as shit but still,
I endeavor to hold my ground.

“Yes,” I say, hoping my voice isn’t shaking too much. “That’s so.”

“Are you threatening to kick me out of your store?” he demands.

“If I have to.” I may not be a powerful vampire or even a
practicing witch but we do have some pretty effective 'leave me alone' type
spells already made up in aerosol cans like magical mace. They come in handy
for a lot of witches who, as I said before, like to sleep around. Sometimes a
guy gets clingy and you need an out. Of course, I have no idea if they would
work on a vamp but it looks like I’m about to find out. Slowly,
surreptitiously, I reach under the counter for an aerosol can full of the
distilled warding spell.

Aiden James still looks furious. “You should learn to treat your
customers with more respect,” he growls in a soft, menacing voice. “Were you
mine, you’d be severely punished for such a display.”

“Well I’m
not
yours,” I point out, my hand tightening on
the smooth cylinder of magical mace.

“A great pity,” he snaps. “There’s nothing I’d enjoy more than
teaching you a lesson, little witch. You’re badly in need of some discipline.”

I can’t believe him. What kind of caveman is he, anyway?

“Right,” I say. “Well, I’m afraid you’ll just have to forgo that
particular pleasure. And I’ll treat
you
with more respect when you start
treating
me
with more respect. This is my place of business—don’t come in
here and insult my intelligence.” I may not like running this stupid shop but I
know my stuff cold and I’ll be damned if I let him say otherwise.

To my surprise, Aiden James suddenly stops looking scary and
vampiric and nods a little stiffly. He takes a deep breath and his next words
genuinely surprise me. “Very well, I will admit that it was rude of me to
disparage your knowledge.”

“Thank you,” I say, nodding.

“I can see you know what you’re talking about. You’ve saved me
from a very costly error, Ms…”

“Emma,” I say grudgingly. “Emma Krist.” I wonder how he can be out
in the daylight. The gold and onyx ring on his right hand catches my eye again,
must be magic—heavy duty magic too, to pull off something like this. A vampire
with access to high-level sorcery—great. My little bottle of magical mace would
probably bother him as much as a gnat bothers an elephant. Slowly I release my
grip on it and place both hands on the counter.

“Very well, Ms. Krist, you’ve earned my respect.” He looks at me
speculatively. “
And
my interest. Forgive me for being rude, I’m very
preoccupied just now.” He puts out his hand in a conciliatory gesture. “We are
well met on this Sacrifice Eve.”

I don’t really want to shake his hand but I don’t see that I have
much choice. Reluctantly, I hold out my own hand. “Well met, indeed,” I say, giving
the ritual response. Or that’s what I
start
to say as his hand closes
over mine.

But as the vampire's much larger hand engulfs my own, I feel a
strange tingle that runs down my arm and gives me a most uncomfortable jolt. My
heart starts to hammer and I jerk my hand away from him.
What the hell…?

Aiden James must have felt it as well because he looks from his
hand to my face and back again, as if trying to figure out what just happened.
Well if he finds out, I wish he’d let me know. I’ve never felt such power from
anyone before, not even my Aunt Cassandra and she’s a senior witch and the
mistress of our coven.

The vampire studies me, his gray eyes narrowed. “You know,” he
says at last. “I think I’ve changed my mind.”

“About…about what?” I ask, wishing my voice didn’t sound quite so
breathless.

“About this…all this.” He waves one hand negligently at the
packets of dried herbs strewn over the countertop. “I don’t think I need to
make this potion after all.”

“You don’t?” I look at him uncertainly. He was so intent on his
list, so insistent about the ingredients. What changed his mind?

“No.” He shakes his head, then cocks an eyebrow at me. “I assume
I’ll see you at the Sacrifice Ceremony tonight?”

“Of…of course,” I stutter, feeling stupid. My hand is still
tingling from his touch—along with other parts of my body. What happened? Who
is he really? Then I realize what he’s asking. “Not that…I mean, I won’t
probably be around afterward,” I say quickly, feeling my cheeks heat up. “For
the uh, celebration. The after party, whatever you want to call it.”

“The orgy,” he says, and there is a spark of heat far back in his
gray eyes that makes me tingle all over again. “You don’t intend to
participate?”

“Uh, no. Not at all.” I shake my head firmly. “I don’t…I’m not…not
like most witches. Besides, I have to be back here early tomorrow.” I pat the
counter, indicating my place behind it.

James looks at me speculatively. “I see.”

“So I might see you there but I won’t…I can’t…”

“I understand.” He nods, cutting me off.

Suddenly I feel stupid. It’s not like he was propositioning me.
Someone who looks like him? Please—he can have anyone he wants and I’m sure
once he catches sight of my lovely cousins I’ll be the last witch on his mind.

I clear my throat and try to get back to business. “Uh, so anyway.
Are you sure you don’t need the herbs?”

“Quite sure.” He gives me one last long look from those cool gray
eyes and nods. “Good day, Emma. I’ll see you soon.”

I seriously doubt it,
I think as he heads out the door, empty-handed. As I put back the
herbs, I wonder again who he really is and what happened when we touched. But
it seems my questions are destined to go unanswered. I’m sure if I see him at
all after the Sacrifice celebration, he’ll be partying with some slender fairy
chick or chatting up some other pretty witch or were. As for the girl he was
searching for, he won’t have to look hard to find one to suit him.

I sigh softly and look at my watch. Almost time to close up
anyway. I put the shop in order and try to get him out of my mind. But somehow
he lingers there, Mr. Aiden James with his sharp teeth and even sharper eyes. Why
can’t I stop thinking of him?