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Chapter 1

Croatia. Distant past.

Logan took a closer look at the ripe black-skinned grape in his palm. His fair British skin didn’t cope well with harsh sunlight, but something about this small vineyard in Croatia gave him comfort. There was something in the air, and the aura of the place was telling him that he was here for a good reason.

He chuckled to himself, amused by the changes in his viewpoint on science in the last few months. He was a doctor, so he believed in science. But when he had opened his mind enough to search for a more natural way to cure cancer, an alternative, there was a noticeable change.

His research suggested that the dark-skinned grapes could be used for more than making Zinfandel. He wasn’t a wine drinker, and he didn’t know the differences between vine varieties. But he knew the valuable properties of fruits and plants and the benefit of using them to make medicines.

The owner of the vineyard, a friend of an old friend, had been kind enough to let him stay for a few weeks to do his research, and it had been a fruitful trip. In a few days, he’d be back with his wife in their lakeside house in England.

He gently placed the grape into a small plastic bag. As he turned to walk back to the house, he saw movement at the far end of the row of older vines.

It was about fifty yards away, in one of the vineyards the owner didn’t use for wine because he thought the soil was contaminated, making the vines produce strangely flavored fruits. There was a disturbance among the vines and small shrubs in that area. From where Logan stood, it looked like a large animal had entered the area and was feasting on the bad vines.

It was a Sunday, so there would be no workers around the vineyard if he needed help.

I should just go inside, Logan thought.

Then he heard a female voice crying out, soft and whimpering, and the sounds of the large animal got louder.

Logan rushed into a nearby guard shed and grabbed a hunting gun then ran toward the abandoned corner of the vineyard.

The vines and shrubs were larger and taller up close than they had looked from up on the hill. He pushed tree branches and vines out of his face as he walked. A few steps more, and he stepped into a round cleared patch reminiscent of a crop circle. At the far end of the circle, a young woman in a bloody white dress pushed herself backward on the ground.

In front of her wasn’t an animal, but a man who stood seven feet tall. His back was to Logan. He approached the woman on the ground as she kept moving backward.

“Hey!” yelled Logan

The man turned and looked at him.

Logan staggered back. Based on the human shape of what stood in front of him, he supposed he could medically refer to it as a man. But the face looked like that of a vampire. Its eyes were bloodshot, and its fangs dropped down and started chomping at his bottom lip.

But the sun was still out. This vampire was standing there, unfazed by the sunlight. How was that possible?

Logan was a scientist, and he believed that vampires were pure fiction. But this thing in front of him made the last drop of his hard-core belief in science disappear.

The vampire looked annoyed at Logan for yelling at him but didn’t seem to see him as a significant threat. It ignored him and turned again to the woman on the ground.

“Leave her,” said Logan, “or I’ll shoot you.” Maybe this was someone in costume, and if so, he had some concern about pointing a gun when he had no authority to do so. But if this was truly a vampire, he knew the gun wouldn’t work. His gun would be useless.

As fast as lightning, the vampire turned around and charged at him. Logan pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the vampire in the chest. It staggered back, looked at the chest wound, which was already healing, and gave him a crooked smile.

Then it lunged at him again.

He saw it coming, like in slow motion. The bullet hadn’t killed it, so he was sure it was supernatural. From the speed of its movement, Logan knew if it hit him, none of the bones in his body would remain intact. As he stepped back, his hand brushed against a wooden stake used to stabilize the vines. He grabbed it, and as the vampire leaped at him, he pulled the stick from the ground and held its sharp end out in front of him.

It didn’t take any force on his part. The momentum of the vampire was what killed it.

As the stake pierced its heart, a roar echoed through the air. The vampire melted into a pool of black liquid that was absorbed by the soil.

He wondered how many vampires had died here in this way.

He scrambled toward the woman. She was barely conscious.

“Do you speak English?”

She nodded.

“My name is Logan Hayes. I’m a medical doctor. I’m going to take you inside and check your injuries, is that okay?”

She nodded again.

He gently and very carefully lifted the young woman into his arms. He was afraid he would break her. She was small and light and very frail. She leaned her head into his chest as he carried her inside the house. He lay her on his bed. Her white dress was soaked in blood.

He got her some water.

When she opened her beautiful light gray eyes, he said, “I can get you to the hospital. But that will take time. I think your injuries are too severe, and you’ve lost too much blood to make it there. Can I take a look at you first? I’ll have to take off your dress.”

She nodded.

Her dress was torn in several places, so it didn’t take much time or effort to remove it.

He had treated severe injuries before, but what he saw still made his stomach quiver.

She wouldn’t survive even if he attempted to get her to the hospital.

The majority of the wounds were on her back. Blood poured from a deep well at the top of her left shoulder. That seemed to be the most severe cut. He didn’t know what had caused it, but he knew he needed to stop the blood loss.

He grabbed a clean towel from his cabinet. By the time he returned, the majority of her wounds had healed, but the deep one on her left shoulder continued to bleed. Pushing his astonishment about the healing speed aside, he put pressure on the wound, hoping to staunch the flow of blood.

She shifted in the bed and turned onto her side to look at him.

He could see she was in a lot of pain.

“I can’t heal that one myself. I’ll need your help.”

A tear rolled down her face. Then the pain intensified. She turned back away from him, and a white feathered wing speared out from her right shoulder. She cried out. The wing flapped a couple of times, then flopped down to the bed.

Then she, too, fell onto the bed like a broken doll.

It didn’t matter what his normal beliefs in this world were—Logan knew he was looking at an injured angel, and the wound on her left shoulder was the stump of her left wing, a wing that was no longer in place. It had been torn off.

He was infuriated. He had never experienced a fury like this. It was so intense that he wished harm to whoever had done this to the young woman.

He wiped the tears from her face.

“I know it hurts. If you can, collapse your right wing. It will be easier to lie down that way.”

She did what he asked. He secured the towel in place to stop the blood from flowing out of her left shoulder.

“Please, tell me how I can fix this.”

“I need holy water from the church.”

“I can do that. I’ll go to the village and get it for you. Do you want me to bring someone from the church to help?”

“No, no one can know I’m here.”

“Okay. That’s all I need to know. I want to give you some medicine, something I have to inject with a needle. The medicine will put a human to sleep and help with pain. But will it work on you?”

She smiled weakly. “Yes.”

He injected a dose of anesthesia into her arm.

Before drifting off, she smiled at him. “My name is Xapham. Thank you for helping me.”

“I’m a doctor. It’s the least I can do. Now you just stay here and rest. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

 

 

Chapter 2

“Cheers to Lucien.”

Jasmine raised her champagne glass. Everyone else did the same. She loved the laughter and the festive atmosphere in the house. They hadn’t had that in a while. She wanted to make sure everyone had fun tonight.

Vines & Soul didn’t open for dinner, and it hadn’t opened that afternoon either due to construction work. Business was busiest at lunchtime, but their encounter with the supernatural in the vineyard had exploded an entire row of old vines. She didn’t feel right keeping the restaurant running with patrons having to go in and out of a construction site.

She took the opportunity to host a welcome back party for Lucien. He hadn’t exactly gone anywhere, but he’d been grounded in Beatrice’s bedroom after suffering a nearly fatal injury. Today was the first day Beatrice had let him out of the house.

His color was back, and Jasmine thought he had grown even more attractive since his werewolf gene had been triggered. Speaking of attractive, she glanced at Bertram, sitting quietly at the far end of the counter, and caught him looking at her.

He smiled.

She smiled back.

Why does he always look as if he just walked straight out of Vogue men’s magazine?

The analogy wasn’t hers but that of Fiona, a twenty-something-year-old apprentice at the vineyard. Jasmine hadn’t thought like that when she was in her twenties. And she didn’t think like that now. She didn’t even read that magazine.

But how else could she describe a six foot three man with a well-toned body, dark hair, and an angelic face with intense eyes that twinkled when he smiled? And none of those things was even his best quality.

He was a god of a kisser. Just the memory of his kisses made every cell in her body vibrate.

“What are you thinking about?” Bertram asked.

She didn’t realize he had approached her.

“What?”

“You smiled to yourself. If I ever find out what made you smile like that, I’ll make it happen more often.”

“Are you saying I’m usually grumpy?”

He chuckled. “You do snap sometimes. But grumpy, no.” He leaned in, either to kiss her or to whisper something in her ear.

No matter what his purpose, her heart skipped a beat. Whether a kiss or a whisper, she would welcome it. She loved the feeling of him close to her.

A sharp pain jabbed at her mind, making her wince. Her ability to read people’s emotions occasionally came at very inconvenient times.

But this pain had come from Bertram. He gasped lightly a second before she felt the twinge, and the glass he was holding slipped out of his hand and dropped to the floor.

Everyone turned and looked at him. Bertram smiled. “She’s distracting!” he said and pointed at Jasmine.

Lucien laughed. “Come on, there are twelve cabins here you could use if you can’t make it to Jasmine’s place.”

Nathan and Fiona, the vineyard’s two apprentices, chimed in with laughter and jokes. Beatrice was about to add to the conversation when Max, a husky puppy, did something to make Lucien yelp. The puppy and the newly turned werewolf didn’t always get along, and Jasmine could see they were competing for Beatrice’s attention.

“Well, he’s taken up permanent residence at the Merlot Cabin. You’ll never have to worry about a shortage of accommodations at my resort, Lucien,” Jasmine said, smiling at him and then signaling Bertram to meet her outside.

They stood on the patio that opened to the back garden. The garden lighting wasn’t great, but it was enough for her to see the pain still lingering in his eyes.

“Saxa’s mark is causing you some discomfort, isn’t it?”

He pulled up the sleeve of his shirt. On the inside of his right forearm, where the spirit they had been fighting with earlier had put a round mark, a dark purple bruise the size of a grapefruit was forming.

“It actually looks worse than it feels.” He examined the bruise. “You think she injected me with something?”

Jasmine shook her head. “No, those spirits wouldn’t do anything like that. They’re from a different plane. And their mark shouldn’t cause you any pain, let alone induce a reaction like this in your body.” She rubbed her thumb gently over the purple bruise. It wasn’t swollen, which was somewhat of a relief.

Bertram lifted her chin up. “If there’s a problem, we’ll fix it. Frowning will only give you wrinkles. No woman wants that.”

“I don’t make a living from my appearance, so I’m not too worried.”

“Regardless, you’re beautiful.” He leaned down to kiss her. And this time, it would be a real kiss.

They heard a low growl and looked back at the restaurant. At the door they had left ajar, Max sat, sulking.

“I guess you lost your fight for Beatrice’s attention to Lucien.” Jasmine smiled at the dog.

“Here you are,” said Mia and picked up Max. She looked at Jasmine and Bertram. Jasmine knew she hadn’t come out for Max. Mia missed nothing. She had the mind of an academic, not in the sense of being boring, but in the methodical way she looked at everything. She must have noticed Bertram’s reaction to the pain and seen the two of them heading to the back.

Mia smiled. “I thought you guys were in the Merlot Cabin.”

“That’s act two,” Bertram said as his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen. “It’s Glen.”

“You’re on leave, and these aren’t exactly working hours,” Jasmine said.

Bertram winked at her. “Professional hazard of doctors and police.” Then he stepped aside to a quiet corner to take the call.

As they stood alone, Mia asked, “What happened before in there?”

“Saxa marked Bertram’s arm after he made a promise with Grace.”

“I’m sure the promise wasn’t valid under those circumstances.”

Jasmine shook her head. “That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Then what?”

“A spirit like Saxa from a different plane can mark a human then take that person when the deal is executed. But it shouldn’t cause any kind of reaction or pain. People shouldn’t even know it happened.”

“Like being taken by Death.”

“Something like that. But it’s causing Bertram pain, and there’s a gigantic bruise on his arm where the mark was.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m not a hundred percent sure. But I’m guessing it’s some kind of defensive reaction. Creatures in the same plane aren’t supposed to attack or cause harm to each other for no reason or when they don’t have the authority to do so.”

Mia frowned. “So, it’s kind of like humans are allowed to eat meat from animals, but if they eat another human, it’s considered cannibalism, and that’s wrong?”

“Mia, do you think you could come up with an easier-to-swallow analogy?”

“Like what?”

“Like vampires don’t suck blood from other vampires.”

“Right. And zombies don’t eat other zombies.”

Jasmine rolled her eyes. “Okay, enough of the yuck factor. The point is that I suspect Bertram has something in him that’s reacting to Saxa’s mark, or maybe it’s defending him against it.”

“Isn’t that a good thing, Jasmine? I mean, you’re a witch, so if he has something supernatural in him, wouldn’t that make you guys more compatible?”

“Depends on what kind of supernatural.”

“Come on, since when do you see the cup as half empty?”

“Oh no,” Jasmine said when she saw Bertram’s face as he hung up the phone. “He’s just lost someone he cared about.” She paused. “He’s about to head back to the city, I’ll bet. I’m going with him until I’m absolutely certain that his reaction to Saxa’s mark is harmless. Would you mind looking into Bertram’s background to see if you can find something that might help?”

Mia nodded. “I’m on it.”

Bertram approached. “I need to go back to the city. There was a homicide five doors down from my apartment.”

“You know the person, don’t you, Bertram?” Jasmine asked.

He nodded. He shoved his phone and then his hands into his jacket pockets, trying to hide the fact that the news had affected him more than he cared to show.

“Yes, I know her. Quite well, actually. Suzanna Thomas. I thought she was away on a European cruise,” he said. “I’ve got to go.”

“I chased away a spirit that was hanging around outside your apartment. But those spirits don’t travel alone. And now someone you know has died on that same floor. There’s no way I’m letting you go back there by yourself,” said Jasmine. “Your gun won’t work on the supernaturals, and you know that.”

He was about to object, but the tone of her voice stopped him. He nodded.

 

 

Chapter 3

Supernaturals.

Truckloads of them.

Jasmine sensed it as soon as she stepped out of the elevator on level twenty-six of Bertram’s apartment building. The problem was, she couldn’t see them. Neither could she sense what kind of supernaturals they were dealing with.

This was very unusual. They had to be from a different plane, a world she didn’t know and therefore didn’t have an advantage against.

She didn’t need to look for the number. The door to the apartment where the incident had occurred was open, and the police moved in and out. As Bertram had said earlier, it was five doors down from where he lived.

She remembered this apartment. She had noticed the dead flowers in front of it when she walked past it the last time she’d been here.

The officer at the crime scene recognized Bertram, and he approached. But Bertram’s attention was elsewhere, not on the crime scene in front of him.

He was looking at his own apartment.

She followed the direction of his gaze and saw a woman in her fifties standing in front of his door. When she turned and saw him, she started to come toward him, but Bertram gestured for her to stay where she was. He told the crime scene officer that he’d be back and headed toward the woman in front of his apartment, sliding his hand behind Jasmine’s back to prompt her to go with him.

Jasmine cooperated without question. She wondered if he even realized what he was doing.

“Jasmine, this is my mother, Aubree.”

Jasmine saw that Bertram had gotten his intense eyes from his mother. But apart from that, they didn’t look like they were related. In fact, it would be more believable to say she was Jasmine’s mother than Bertram’s.

Aubree was earthly. That was the only word Jasmine could come up with to describe her. Her face was compelling, attractive in an unusual way. She was tall, lean, and strong. Jasmine hoped she would look as good in jeans when she reached that age. Aubree wore a simple shirt, tucked in, no makeup, and her hair was pulled back in a loose braid.

She was a commanding presence.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Aubree.”

Bertram’s mother smiled. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Jasmine.”

“Finally?”

The woman didn’t respond, just smiled at her.

“What are you doing here, Mom?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Now isn’t a good time. They called me in for a crime scene over there.” Bertram pointed toward the other apartment.

“I’ll wait.”

Bertram opened the door to his apartment. “There’s not much in the fridge. But please make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“I’ll stay here with Aubree,” Jasmine said.

“Great, thank you so much.” He brushed her arm lightly with his fingertips and kissed her cheek. Then he rushed toward his neighbor’s apartment.

Aubree walked straight into the living room and sat down on the sofa.

Jasmine could tell she knew this place, although she perhaps didn’t visit often, or at least not recently. She went to the kitchen.

“Would you like something to drink?” she asked.

Aubree smiled. “What can you make out of water and orange juice?”

Jasmine opened the fridge. She was right. That was all there was.

Aubree nodded. “I could use something stronger if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Jasmine smiled and grabbed the orange juice. Then she went to the minibar at the corner of the kitchen counter. Bertram liked to drink fancy cocktails, and his bar reflected that. He had an arsenal of cocktail-making gear and ingredients. Jasmine decided to make her famous lemon rum cocktail, replacing the lemon with orange juice. She had learned that trick on an oriental food tour she took ages ago.

She brought the glasses over.

“Thanks.” Aubree leaned back on the sofa and tried a sip.

She approves, Jasmine thought. She had never had an objection to the recipe, so she wasn’t surprised.

“What did you mean by ‘finally’ meeting me?”

Aubree smiled. “I’m glad you didn’t let that slide. What I meant was that you and Bertram both deserve good life partners. You’re made for each other.”

Jasmine couldn’t help it—she peeked into Aubree’s mind, hoping to get some kind of emotional hint. She saw a blank wall. There were some creatures and talented humans who could shield themselves from her emotional spying. But she had never seen anything like this before.

“We’ve just started a relationship. Isn’t it too early to tell?”

Aubree smiled. “Time is irrelevant. When you meet the right person, you just know.”

It was Jasmine’s turn to lean back in her chair. She finished her drink and looked back at Aubree. “You’re not speaking from life experience, Aubree.”

“You don’t think I have enough life experience to tell you this?”

“No, I mean you saw something an ordinary person couldn’t see. You saw something between Bertram and me that caused you to draw that conclusion.”

Aubree’s eyes twinkled. Exactly what happened when Bertram smiled. But Jasmine was sure it happened to Aubree when she was intrigued.

“You’ve got some talent!”

Jasmine nodded. “If what you saw is accurate, that Bertram and I have emotional synergy—or what’s commonly referred to as being soulmates—then you’ll know this sooner or later. My parents were witches. I was born a witch. I’m not flying around on a broomstick or anything, but I know some magic, and I can read people’s emotions.”

Aubree finished up her drink. “I might need something a bit stronger than this.”

Jasmine stood up to make her another drink.

“That’s okay, Jasmine. Please sit down.” Aubree looked at Jasmine, and her eyes were so intense Jasmine thought they might pierce a hole through her body.

“I wasn’t born with any supernatural abilities. But I started to see a halo around people with emotional energy. Those couples that are meant to be together. That’s what I saw with you and Bertram. I didn’t see it with Bertram and Grace.”

“When did your ability start? Does Bertram know about it?”

“It started when I was pregnant with him. You’re the first person I’ve told about it. Because I saw what you have with Bertram.”

Jasmine suddenly felt upon a wave of pain and sorrow coming from the woman. When Aubree opened up to her, whatever had blocked Jasmine from seeing Aubree’s emotions was gone. Regardless of the magnitude of the emotion that Jasmine felt, Aubree’s face revealed nothing.

“Can you see your own energy?”

Aubree shook her head. “I prefer to think that I just can’t see it rather than think that I can’t see it because it’s not there at all.”

That’s what the pain was about, Jasmine thought.

She changed the direction of the conversation. “Bertram is susceptible to the supernaturals. If it didn’t come from you, and you’ve never talked about the supernaturals with him, could it have come from his father?”

“Logan? No. He was a surgeon, a hard-core scientist. There wasn’t a spooky bone in him. Logan did say he wanted to tell Bertram something important when he turned twenty-one. But he didn’t have the chance. He died that day in his sleep, just after midnight,” Aubree said. “What do you mean when you say Bertram is susceptible to the supernaturals?”

“Bertram can sometimes sense supernatural energy. Not always, but sometimes. The first time I came to this apartment, I saw supernatural creatures hanging around.”

Aubree glanced around the room. “How about now?”

“Nothing now, but …” She jumped to her feet as a chill ran up her spine. “Of course there are none here now. Bertram isn’t here.” She rushed out of the apartment. She didn’t need to look—she knew Aubree was right behind her. They raced down the corridor toward the other apartment.

At the far end of the hallway, Jasmine saw shadows—a flock of spirits like the one she had chased off before. But these looked a lot more vicious. They hovered in the air, just outside the window. They wouldn’t come in, not yet. They were still cautious around humans.

This world wasn’t their territory, and if they ran into trouble, they wouldn’t have more of their kind here to support them. But it was only a matter of time before they would attack to get what they wanted.

And what they wanted now was not her.

They glared at Bertram, who was stepping out of the other apartment.

They looked at him as a starving creature would at a delicious dinner.

The crime scene officer trailed right behind Bertram.

“That’ll be all for tonight. I’ll stop by the morgue tomorrow to look at the two bodies. I’d like the report done by noon,” Bertram said.

“Yes, Detective. Will you be staying here, just in case—”

“No,” Jasmine said, joining Aubree in chorus.

Bertram and the officer looked at them.

“I mean, I have accommodations at the resort arranged for him,” Jasmine said and locked eyes with the spirits. They chose to hide from humans, so there was no point in telling the two men what was going on.

“We need to go. Right now, Bertram,” she said. “I need to talk to you … at the resort …”

“Are you going out of town, sir?” the officer asked.

“I’m actually on leave at the moment. But I’ve agreed to help with this case. I’m staying in Gisborne. So, not exactly out of town.”

The officer nodded. “I’ll be in touch tomorrow, Detective Hayes.” Then he went back inside the apartment.

Bertram gestured Jasmine and Aubree toward the elevator bank, then led the way.

As they walked toward the elevator, Jasmine stepped forward in front of Bertram. She knew he didn’t like her in front of him—a dilemma for professional people in the serve-and-protect line of work—but he knew his limitations when it came to the supernaturals, so he stepped back to let her do her work.

She cast a spell and pulled a bead from her bracelet. It wasn’t just any bead—it contained a potent protective spell. She flicked it with her fingers. It smashed against the wall and blasted out a stream of blue smoke.

Before Aubree could utter a word, the elevator doors opened, and Bertram hurled them both inside. If this was Aubree’s first time witnessing magic, she was much too calm for Jasmine’s liking.

Five minutes later, they were all in Bertram’s car, driving back to Gisborne.

“I can walk faster than you drive, Bertram,” Jasmine muttered from the passenger’s seat. She glanced in the rearview mirror and saw that the spirits followed right behind them. They needed to get to the vineyard. Her magic worked a lot better there, and she would be in familiar territory.

“I can’t see them, Jasmine. If you’d give us more details about what we’re running from, it would help,” Bertram said.

“How about a group of starving-for-fresh-soul spirits, spirits that will consume your soul slowly so they can watch your humanity leave you before you become one of their trophies?”

“Drive faster, Bertram,” Aubree said from the back seat.

“Mom, you haven’t told me why you needed to speak to me in person …”

“Have you given me any time tonight?”

“Look out!” Jasmine shouted.

Bertram slammed on the brakes, and the car fishtailed.

 

 

Chapter 4

The car skidded to a halt as the group of vicious spirits hovered in front of them. The dark highway had hardly any traffic. The spirits made themselves visible to Bertram and Aubree. They hovered just above the surface of the road, semitransparent in a light grayish-purple shade. They looked almost like genies from children’s picture books, but Jasmine knew this was no fairy tale.

She stepped forward. But now that Bertram had seen the creatures, he wasn’t going to allow her to stand in front of him anymore. He moved up to stand beside her.

Jasmine held another bead in her hand, but she wasn’t sure how she was going to protect Bertram and Aubree. Even if she had her full SLE gear, she’d have sharp blades and fighting skills, but they wouldn’t be backed by the supernatural power of the SLE force. Her witch power wasn’t going to be enough to deal with creatures from another plane.

“What do you want?” she asked.

The most hideous spirit in the group moved forward, hovering. It pointed a frail, lanky finger at them.

“We want the potion …”

“What potion?” Jasmine asked.

“He has it. Give it to us, and we’ll let you all go.”

Bertram pulled out from his jacket pocket what looked like an expensive bottle of perfume. “Is this what you mean?”

“Yes.”

“Suzanna asked me to pass this on to her family. It isn’t yours. I can’t let you have it.”

“Give it to me …” The creature’s tongue slithered out, and it drooled when it saw the bottle.

“You can’t fight them, Bertram. Let them have it. For now,” Jasmine said, but she knew he wouldn’t. She tugged lightly at his elbow and looked into his eyes, trying to communicate to him that she’d find a way to get it back. They weren’t prepared for this right now, and it was unwise to fight.

He looked into her eyes. Then he nodded.

“All right, you can have it.” He put it on the ground and stepped back.

Bertram’s right hand was on his belt. He was ready to assume a fight stance at a second’s notice. There was a small knife tucked in his boot, and Jasmine knew he would try to use it. He had no intention of giving in to the creatures.

He would try to get the one that looked like the leader.

This is a really bad idea, Jasmine thought. He wouldn’t be able to grab the creature. It didn’t work that way.

“You have to release it,” the spirit said.

Jasmine was astonished by the spirit’s words. Suzanna must have locked this potion to Bertram! Her mind ran rampant as she tried to figure it out. The jar wasn’t meant for Suzanna’s family. She wanted Bertram to have it, and she had used a spell to bind it to him.

“What do you mean?” Bertram asked the spirit. “It’s there—take it.”

“Take your knife,” Jasmine whispered to Bertram. “Slice a small cut in your hand, let three drops of blood fall on the jar, and say ‘I release the potion.’”

In most situations, Jasmine knew this wouldn’t fly, especially for creatures at this level, those that could cross to a different plane. They were more wicked and more powerful than ordinary supernaturals. But she had to take a gamble. She cast a deceiving spell at the group of creatures, hoping that most of them would catch the spell. Most important, however, was that the one who seemed to be the leader believed that what Bertram was doing was genuine.

She wasn’t sure it was going to work, but she didn’t have much choice.

If the creature couldn’t take the potion unless it was unlocked and the spell caster was dead, there was no way Bertram could unlock it with a few drops of blood.

Bertram followed her instructions without question.

To Jasmine’s delight, the spirit appeared to have caught her spell. It looked at the drops of blood with joy. It approached to take the jar.

She slid her fingers into a tiny compartment in the front pocket of her jeans and jiggled the lethal bead she kept there. It was like a miniature grenade composed of toxic power designed to kill supernaturals. She had only one bead like this, and she needed to get it right.

The spirit reached out its frail hand to grasp the jar, but before she could throw the bead, Bertram swung his knife at the spirit’s head.

The knife opened the surface of the spirit’s flesh, if that substance was indeed flesh. But it was barely a scratch.

Bertram knew guns wouldn’t work on the supernaturals, so he tried a knife. But a knife that didn’t kill would only make the spirit angry.

What did he think a little knife would do to such a powerful cross-world creature? Jasmine thought.

She prepared for the worst. She pulled out her lethal bead.

To Jasmine’s surprise, the spirit let out a terrifying scream and dissolved into thin air. The rest of the flock followed.

The night returned to its eerie quietness.

Jasmine was stunned. Then a burst of anger washed over her. “Don’t ever do that again, Bertram! I almost killed you!” she shouted at him.

“What? Didn’t I just make them go away?”

“For now, but they’ll come back stronger. You need to know that you didn’t cause any damage with that knife. You only made it angry.”

“If I didn’t hurt it, why did they all run away?”

“It’s your blood, Bertram. Your blood on the knife hurt it. And on that note, we need to talk.” She glanced at Aubree. “I need to know your make, Bertram. Are you supernatural or human?”

“I gave birth to him. That’s the only thing I’m sure of at the moment,” Aubree said.

“If by some miracle I’ve become supernatural, isn’t that a good thing, Jasmine? You won’t have to protect me from them anymore!”

“That depends what side of the supernatural you’re on.” She held up the bead. “Do you know what this would do to you if you’re on the wrong side? If I had triggered this, and you’re the same kind as those spirits, you would be dead. I would have killed you by accident. You don’t want me to protect you, but not having to tiptoe around you would be a great help. If I know who or what you are, I won’t have to tiptoe.”

“You know as much as I know, Jasmine.”

“That’s not enough. What about York? The incident I saw in your flashback. That’s the closest I’ve gotten to your connection and a spirit from another plane.”

“I don’t know!” Bertram was so angry he paced back and forth. “You connected to me to see that flashback. You were cut off because I got cut off. I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”

“I received an anonymous note saying that we’re in danger, Bertram. Both of us. That was why I came to your apartment.” Aubree’s comment stopped the argument between Jasmine and Bertram.

 

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