West Coast Witch (23 page)

I crashed as soon as I got home. I was so tired from the past few days that I was
starting to wonder if I'd ever have a normal week again. I kicked off my boots, said
good night to Amy, and I fell down, practically, on my futon. Sleep came easy.

Again, I dreamed.

This time, I dreamed I was at my kitchen table, drinking coffee. Sitting across from
me, again, was the image of my mother.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” I deadpanned.

The image of my mother crossed her arms across her chest. “You have met the one who
calls himself Nick.”

“Uh, yea,” I nodded. I set the mug of coffee down, and looked her in the eye. “Listen,
I don't get it. What's the purpose of these dreams?”

“You are not to trust Nick.” She said. “He is the puppeteer. A witch is never the
puppet.”

“He looks like he has good intentions.”
 
I said. “Besides, why should I trust you? You're just a figment of my imagination.”

“Think of me as a helpful advisor.” She said. “I'm here to ensure your survival, Eric.”

“And why shouldn't I trust Nick?”

“Your mother made that mistake, and it nearly cost her everything, including her life.”
She said. “Nick is only interested in his war.”

“What war?” I asked.

“The war he's been fighting for centuries. Protecting humanity from what it doesn't
want to know about.”

“The Marshals.” I murmured. It made sense, I guessed. There had to be some sort of
organization that protected humanity from vampires, werewolves, and the like before
they had come into the public eye.

“He is a powerful man, but his intentions are his own. Be wary.”

I sighed, shaking my head. “What about Amy? I shouldn't trust her, either?”

“Amy is loyal. She has made a bargain to protect you, and she will honor that.” She
tilted her head, inquisitively. “Your actions this past few days have stirred trouble.
You are quite the busy man.”

“How do you know what I've done?” I asked her. I stood up, walking over to her side
of the table. “What are you?”

“A construct,” she said, slowly turning to look at me. “I can see your mind as you
sleep, and I am designed to interact with you.” The image of my mother put up a finger.
“No, do not ask any further questions on the matter. I am only here to warn and advise.”

“Who was she?” I sat back down. “My mother.” I wanted to know, desperately. How had
she even made something like this? How was it in my head?

“I am not designed to give you those answers.” She answered. “Your mother's life is
something you will have to discover without my aid.”

“Great.” I was starting to wonder if there might be something in her history that
I couldn't know, something that she'd hidden on purpose. “What is the nature of Amy?
What is she?”

The image of my mother paused for a moment, considering. “That is something she would
have to tell you. Your mother had several theories, but there is nothing conclusive.”
She must have seen my disappointment. “My construction is limited.”

“All right,” I nodded. “Then what about magic?”

“Magic is something I can offer help with.”

“Blood magic.”I said. “Hypothetically, I could use blood to track someone, right?”

Again, she paused for a moment, considering. “Indeed. You will required much more
focus, and concentration, but it is definitely possible.”

I nodded. “All right, good. We're on sort of the same page here...” I thought for
a moment. “What about a vampire's blood? What if the person I was trying to find was
bitten by a vampire? Could I use that vampire's blood to try a spell to locate the
one who was bitten?”

“It is possible. You would need to be very focused.” She smiled, just slightly. “But
your line is strong. You will find a way.” She offered me her hand. “Stay strong,
Eric.”

I put my hand in hers. The skin was cold and clammy, but still, my mind thought, even
just for a moment, that this was at least my imagination touching my mother's, in
some odd way. “You bet I will.”

I awoke to someone shaking me awake. “Eric, Eric!”

I blinked my eyes awake. Amy was standing over me. Sometime in the night, I had fallen
over onto the floor. “Huh?”

She sighed, standing back. “I thought you were hurt. You were on the floor, and you
did not respond the first few times I called to you.”

“I...” The dream from the night came back to me. “Amy...” I rubbed at my forehead.
“Right, the vampire!”

“What vampire?” Amy furrowed her brow, watching as I sprang up to my feet and headed
over to the little hamper I kept in the corner.

I rummaged through my dirty laundry pile, ignoring Amy’s disapproving looks as I dug
and dug. I found my pants from a few nights ago, and rummaged through the pockets.
I found Robert Stewart’s card in the back pocket.

“Fan-freaking-tastic!” I whooped in glee, and I ran to my phone.

“I assume you found someone who has had contact with Coolidge?”

“This vamp bit her regularly! Jackpot!” I said, and started dialed the number.

It rang for a few beats before Robert answered. “Robert here.”

“Hi Robert, this is Eric Carpenter, the human from a few nights ago.”

There was a pause for a moment. “Ah, yes, the one who made the vampire lawyer joke.”

I sighed. “Uh, yea, sorry. Listen, I wanted to speak to you about Sam Coolidge. I
may have an idea about how to find her, but I would need your help.”

“Why, yes, anything for Sam. What do you need?”

“Why, Robert,” I grinned, and did my best Bela Lugosi. “I want your blood.”

We agreed to meet at Robert’s house. As it was the weekend, he wasn’t needed at the
courthouse or at his firm, so we’d caught him free.

As Amy drove us to his place in the Castro, she said. “You’re very happy with yourself
right now.”

“Damn skippy I am.” I said. “I may have just figured out how to find Sam.”

“It may not work.”

“Oh, we’ll never get that done with that negative thinking.”

“Now who is scolding who about negative thinking?” Amy laughed at that. “Well, then,
Eric, suppose it works. What do we do?

I shrugged. “Uh, we call in the cavalry, maybe.”

“The cavalry? The police will not have any idea what to do with a man like Lucien.”

“Then we call in Teresa.”

Amy shook her head. “No, they won’t do anything without proof. They could smell the
bite marks on you before. They will not, however, have any way of confirming wherever
Sam is before Lucien can move her somewhere else. We need to do this fast.”

I smiled. “Then we do it. Together. We do it fast, we do it right.”

Amy looked to me. “Oh, you are a witch, that is true.” She sighed, as if she had had
this conversation before. “I will do this, but not without a plan. We find out where
Sam is, and we figure out a plan to retrieve her. Understood?”

“Yea, what could be so difficult about killing a 500 year-old vampire?” I said.

“Much. They’re tougher, faster, stronger than the normal vampire. Some can even overcome
their weakness to sunlight.”

“Okay..” I said. “But they can die, right?”

“Everything can die.” She said. “Everything can die, including young witches who might
think otherwise.”

“Yea.” I sighed. It was only three nights ago that I had nearly died myself, and from
a vampire no less. But here I was, openly discussing the idea of going after one with
much more power and experience. I must have been certifiable, from some points of
view.

Hell, I probably was. But I had a goal in mind. And nothing, if I had anything to
say about it, would push me from it.

Robert Stewart’s house had been a slum at one point, but it had been fixed up into
a nice place. That was something I remembered reading about a lot of Arcanes who had
bought property. They liked fixing a place up to stand out. The house itself was a
little one-story that looked fresher, more maintained than the old houses on either
side.

We crossed the tiny lawn up to the door. I knocked, and Robert answered. “Hello, Mister
Carpenter. Who’s your friend?”

“Oh, this is Amy. Amy, Robert Stewart.”

Robert bowed his head politely. “Come in, please.” He said, and gestured for us to
enter. The house was sparsely decorated. It didn’t look very lived in. But, I surmised,
there wasn’t much of a mess for a vampire to make most of the time. They didn’t need
to eat, drink apart from blood, or even go to the bathroom, so far as I knew.

“So, why do you need my blood, Mister Carpenter?” he asked.

“Well, the explanation requires a bit of secrecy on your part.”

He nodded, and gestured for me to continue.

“I’m a witch. And I think your blood, since you have bit Sam recently, might be the
key to finding her.”

“A witch?” He smiled. “I thought you all were dead.”

“We are, I guess, apart from me. Makes me an endangered species, don’t it?”

“I would suppose so.” He smiled. “But environmental law isn’t really my specialty.
Let’s go to the kitchen.”

We moved to the kitchen. It was well-sorted, with tidy counters and a wine rack. Robert
took a seat at the kitchen table, and I took the seat next to him.

“Do you have a knife we can use?” I asked. “I’d really prefer not to cut you with
silver.”

“Steak knife, on the counter. There’s a rack there,” he said.

I nodded to Amy, who went to the counter and retrieved a steak knife. When she returned
with it, I withdrew a handkerchief. “All right, so, I’m just going to prick you, collect
a bit onto this handkerchief.”

“Before we begin, I would like something from you.” Robert said. “Nothing drastic,
but I would like a promise.”

“A promise?” I asked, confused.

“Yes, I would like your word that this blood will not be used to harm me. I know what
a witch can do with blood. So I only ask that you promise that you will not use my
blood in any spell against me.”

I nodded. “All right, that’s fair enough.” I thought about how to word it. “I swear,
Robert, that I will not use your blood against you in magic.” I felt, for a moment,
a sudden twinge, a whisper in the air.

I took the steak knife into hand. “Uh, look away?” I suggested. I hesitated in this,
feeling a little queasy. Great, now I lost my nerve.

Amy rolled her eyes. “Give me that.” I handed her the knife, and she poked Robert’s
thumb swiftly. The blood welled on the tip, and I covered it with the handkerchief.

“Wow, I didn’t even feel that.” Robert remarked.

“Yes, well, you pick up things now and then.” Amy dismissed it easily. She went to
the kitchen sink and washed off the knife. “Do you think that will be enough, Eric?”

I nodded, trying to quell the feelings that blood brought up in me. I’d always been
terrible with needles and blood. “We’ll find out soon
 
 
 
enough, won’t we?” I smiled at Robert. “Thank you very much. You ever want a favor
or anything, you’ve got it.”

“Be careful about offering such things freely, Mister Carpenter. I may just call you
in on that.”

As I stood, I saw Amy glaring at me. “Come on,” I said. “We have work to do.” The
two of us left Robert’s house, and I said. “Okay, so I think we’re going to need to
modify the tracking spell some.”

“How so?”

“I…am not sure yet.”

“You are not sure. That is it?”

“Flying by the seat of my pants here, all right?”

We returned home, as I theorized and planned. From what I had gathered from my mother’s
notes, a witch could modify a spell for a more specific purpose. However, it was also
a matter of making sure that your modifications weren’t too drastic, but different
enough so it would “feel” right. I wasn’t exactly sure of how we could do it, But,
I suppose, that was the nature of innovation. Not knowing how the heck you were going
to do something, and adapting.

We got home at around two. We had a few hours of daylight left. I wanted to try striking
in the day, if we did it. But if we took too long, we would have to wait until tomorrow,
or risk going at night when Lucien could thrash us. I had no idea how capable Amy
actually was in a fight, and I only had Teresa’s lessons to learn from. How the hell
would I do this?

I didn’t think. I just did. I headed into the kitchen, and I grabbed the candles and
the salt. I made the salt circle, setting the candles at each of the points of the
star. But this time, when I set my mother’s compass in front of me, I pulled a rubber
band around the handkerchief, leaving the bloody part touching the metal of the compass.
It made sense, at least for me. I had replicated the situation from the earlier spell.