“Vampire ghouls, but yeah.”
Ick. There were two different levels of vamps in the world. First, the so-called normal kind, who could pass as humans. They still fried in the sunlight, but at night, a mundane wouldn’t know them from one of their own. The other kind, ghouls, were disgusting. Imagine if a zombie and a vampire had a baby and the zombie traits were the dominant ones. Mindless, bloodsucking monsters. My lip curled at the thought.
“Throw in a bit of protection, and I’ll be set.” Ember smiled, but her eyes were tight.
I pressed a little harder, clenching my teeth. “You know I don’t do those.”
She winced. “You could.”
“I can’t.”
“I wish you had more self-confidence. You broke the family curse for Hecate’s sake.”
That much was true. Another witch cursed our bloodline centuries ago. The third daughter of every Holland mother would die in infancy. Once birth control became a thing, our ancestors stopped after two kids rather than risk losing a little girl. Well, they tried to anyway. My mom’s pill failed, and I was the result. Somehow, she managed to keep me alive into adulthood, breaking the curse, but that didn’t mean I was some kind of prophet or whatever. I got lucky. Nothing more.
I turned off the machine and sat back in my chair. “The last thing I need is you going into a vampire nest thinking you’ve got protection when you don’t. I never mastered that sigil, and Cinder paid the price. I can’t lose you too.”
A shadow crossed her features, her gaze shifting downward before meeting mine. “We’re going to find her.”
“Are we? She searched for Mom and Dad for months, insisting they were alive, and now she’s gone too. Who’s next? You or me? We won’t find her.”
Her jaw tightened. I couldn’t tell you how many times we’d had this conversation, yet no matter where we looked or what we tried, our sister had vanished, and I was to blame.
“Okay. Speed and strength will do.” She pressed her lips together, giving me what she probably thought was an expression of sympathy.
It looked like pity to me, and I was not having it. I picked up the machine and returned to her sigil, losing myself in the rhythmic pulse of the needles. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t take a tiny bit of pleasure in knowing these things hurt like a bitch. It was “no pain, no gain” in the most literal sense.
Black ink penetrated her skin, the faint blue glow indicating my magic was infusing her with the desired properties. Okay, it wasn’t all my magic. Mostly, I channeled the goddess and the power of the universe, the energy traveling into me and out through the enchanted ink. But my vim went into every sigil I tattooed, and it took a while to recharge when I’d done a lot, like tonight.
Ember was my last canvas out of five in the past hour. With a hunting party that big, they must’ve been expecting a slew of bloodsuckers to come out of that nest.
The fatigue was worth it to do my part. Goddess knew I couldn’t fight a monster to save my life. That was why I was the coven librarian and Ember was the badass butt kicker.
“If you’re not covered in vampire goo when you’re done, do you want to have a drink at the Twisted Thistle?” I shook the tension from my hand before putting the finishing touch on her sigil, bringing the bottom loop down and around like the tail of a cursive G, ending it with a fine point, exactly how my dad had taught me.
She scrunched her nose. “I made plans with Shade and Chrys. Sorry.”
“Oh.” I tried to hide the disappointment in my voice, but I failed miserably. “That’s okay. I should head to bed early, anyway. I’m re-cataloging the grimoires tomorrow. Dad’s organizational skills were lacking at best. He never reshelved anything in the right place.”
The back door opened, and Shade poked his head in. “Hurry it up in there. The sun’s about to set, and I do not want to miss prime hunting time.”
“Speak of the devil,” I muttered as I wiped the excess ink from Ember’s arm. Shade had been the earliest and most vocal witch in the coven to point out my inadequate fire magic. Not that he had any room to talk. He relied on incantations and enchanted artifacts—which he checked out from my library—to do his job. I might’ve been the lamest pyrokinetic in town, but he was the lamest witch all around. I fought the urge to stick my tongue out at him.
Ember pursed her lips, cutting her gaze toward the door he disappeared through before looking at me. “You know what? Why don’t you come with us? If we are covered in ghoul guts, it’ll be nice for someone else to drive. Congealing innards get sticky fast.”
I tugged my dad’s Zippo from my pocket and popped open the top. An orange flame grew from the center, flickering in response to my magic. “You want me to go monster hunting with you? I think you’ve forgotten what happened last time.”
Her nostrils flared. There was a reason Ember knew all about ghoul guts, and that reason was me. “You can wait in the car. Be our getaway driver.”
“I’ve been banned from hunting.” I touched the flame to the new sigil on her arm, activating it, and the design glowed bright red before fading to a cool blue. The magic would last at least six hours. Once it dissipated, the tattoo would disappear along with her enhanced powers.
She arched a brow, admiring my work. “You’re getting really good at this.” She tugged her sleeve down. “And you won’t be hunting. Just driving.”
I laughed dryly. “I don’t think the rest of the crew will go for it.”
“They won’t have a choice. I’ve made up my mind. You’re coming.” She rose to her feet and tossed me the keys. “Let’s go.”
“If you say so.” I locked the shop and followed her out the back door. Our black van, complete with magically tinted windows and a hidden arsenal in the floor, sat in the alley behind the eighteenth-century building that had been in my family from the beginning.
The reason Ember was so sure the other witches wouldn’t object to my tagging along was that they couldn’t. Our parents were the High Priest and Priestess of the Salem order, as were my maternal grandparents and great-grandparents. Being in charge was our birthright, and when Mom and Dad died, the power passed to us.
Well, it passed to our older sister, Cinder. When she went MIA, Ember inherited the torch. And me? I was the introverted librarian tagging along for the ride on my family's coattails.
Actually, that’s not fair. I wasn’t an introvert. I just hated people.
A gust of wind whipped through the alley, blowing my hair into my face. Blue strands stuck to my lip gloss, and as I peeled them off and pulled my locks out of my eyes, I found Shade glowering at me.
“Ember…?” His teeth didn’t part as he spoke.
My sister smirked and smacked the hood of the van. “Load up. We’re burning daylight.”
Shade’s mouth dropped open. “She’s…”
Sis cut him a look that could have melted a glacier in one hot flash. She might have once threatened to roast his chestnuts on an open fire if he ever insulted my magic again, and she probably would have done it. Or at least singed them a bit.
His Adam’s apple bobbed, and his right eye twitched. “She’s not dressed for hunting.”
I crossed my arms over my black corset and shifted my weight to my left leg. Shade wore black spandex pants with a matching shirt. His blond hair was slicked back into a man bun, and a pair of what looked like seatbelt straps crisscrossed his chest, holding a set of wooden stakes.
