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  “Next comes the ultraviolet light,” Rose stated.

  “Okay, okay. I’ll talk, but you are guaranteeing my second death.” He took a deep breath. “We’ve been summoned to New York City.”

  “Why New York?” Killian asked.

  “It’s not for food. Someone opened up the book. We have to show up. It is like being drafted.”

  “The book?”

  “The Book of Abomination. It awakens us, calls us, and now all vampires must report.”

  Rose gasped, and Killian clenched his teeth. That grimoire was to speak to the dead. In the wrong hands, it acted as a beacon, to summon them. This event might mean catching up with his blood brother, Leif, who’d know more. Not something he looked forward to, however.

  Every family came with drama. Why should a supernatural one be any different?

  “And if you don’t report?” Killian asked.

  “The madness will strike, and we will kill anything and everyone.”

  This would be the beginning of the outbreak unless they got the grimoire and put a stop to this. Opening the grimoire was akin to spreading a virus that only the dead were susceptible to.

  A deadly virus spread by magic.

  Both Killian and Rose stepped back, and the ultraviolet force field turned on, securing the vampire in his holding cell.

  Who was heading to New York? It had to be something they both were thinking.

  “Okay, one game of Wolf, Dragon, Witch, and that will decide.” The game was much like Rock, Paper, Scissors, but a play on all of their roles. The dragon could defeat the wolf, the wolf the witch, the witch the dragon.

  “Wolf, Dragon, Witch, Wish,” they said in unison. Rose played the witch, and Killian, the wolf.

  “No surprise there, Killian. You better go pack.”

  Chapter Three

  Leslie

  Would life be easier if I were a man?

  The spell didn’t work, and no matter what I did, nothing seemed to make that magic work.

  “I have heard it all before. You start down that road, and you end up man-less.” Gran fluttered around me as if she were a pesky fly. She wrung her ghostly hands. “Your sins will find you, and only the gods know what they’ll do out there on those mean streets.”

  Would my gran still be nagging me about settling down? Blech.

  I closed the old grimoire I’d borrowed from the library in the occult section. Every night, I’d found something to read, to practice with. Besides seeing shadows in my bedroom, that didn’t correspond to Gran’s movements, nothing had happened.

  It was my secret, and even Gran had no idea.

  “You could settle down with the great guy at the Nigerian place. You always say that when you come in. He tells you that you’re beautiful and that he loves you.”

  I chuckled in return and pictured that handsome man. Jordan loved everyone. Former military, he’d returned to the city that never sleeps with joy in his heart and knowledge of international cuisine. Dreadlocks usually caressed his strong square face that I didn’t mind looking at.

  My stomach rumbled on cue. Maybe I could place an order?

  It wasn’t that Jordan wasn’t my type. He was supposedly single, available, and able. Of course, Gran had spoken to his dead auntie who haunted the building over to get the 411 on him.

  New York City was filled with men. It was a cosmopolitan similar to an international buffet. Whatever your taste, you could find it here. From men bound to fetish lifestyles and dressing in shiny latex, to those in fancy high-rises—it all lay open here.

  They were like the subway: another ready to come in three minutes.

  But men also caused problems and could make me miss my next book deadline.

  I desired a new man like a pint of ice cream. I’d love nothing more than to dive into the spectacular and scrumptiousness, but I’d prefer to do it with a tablespoon while wearing yoga pants and watching Netflix.

  It wasn’t like I needed a man. I paid my own bills, bought whatever I needed, and sometimes wanted, and could even order in when I wished, almost always. I was making it in the most expensive city, and still surviving.

  No, men brought heartache, misunderstanding, and more often than not, lies.

  “I don’t know what you’re doing when you ward your room,” Gran continued, “but you’re up to no good, and it’s going to bring a gauntlet of pain down on this family.”

  Gran had a way of being overly dramatic. If I’d had a fainting couch for her to collapse on, I’m sure she would have used it.

  But it couldn’t matter. This was something I had to do on my own, and using the grimoire was the only way.

  “Even now, that thing vibrates with bad juju. Trust me. I know what that means.”

  “More than what’s normal here in New York?” I laughed. It sounded brittle to me, forced.

  If this worked, then I’d reveal everything. I needed it to conjure the dead.

  The recently departed to be exact, and no amount of warning was going to put off this ritual. Tonight was the night I resurrected the dead.

  Those mean streets were New York City, Manhattan streets to be specific, and the same streets I’d called home since childhood. Everyone else seemed to be able to leave our apartment, finding something new, but when I ended up going to college, I’d taken over the family apartment, and it wasn’t letting go.

  I had more problems than “men problems” might imply.

  It came with rent control and the prior owner, who kindly reminded me that my life was not adventurous enough, or at least not that of a superhero: my Gran.

  “I have to get down to the esoteric shop if I plan on getting the henbane for the ceremony,” I said. “Something went wrong last time.” I was truly meta about research in making sure that my characters and their experiences were true.

  “You used parsley. I told you that wouldn’t work, but you have to be careful with this spirit work. You don’t know what you’re doing, and you’re not quite listening.”

  “Sunflower told me that she’d show me the right way, with golden light, orbs, and grounding.” It was the best answer I could come up with. But it wasn’t parsley. Parsley didn’t open up doors to pure havoc and madness. Henbane brought about its visions, and I could have sworn that I watched a dinosaur-like monster glide across the water, maybe it was like a Spinosaurus, at least that was what my mind interpreted it as.

  Since then, I couldn’t escape this feeling that something was watching me, or rather someone.

  Gran moved closer to me, and tried to cup my cheek, and gave me that frown which explained her concern. “I’ve been listening, Leslie, and something is trying to find space to get to you.”

  “I can’t let fear stop me. Maurice is waiting for my next book. I can’t miss this deadline.”

  “You spend all of your life behind that computer.”

  “Well, think of this as my getting out.” I walked around her and reached for my burlap messenger bag, pulling it over my head so it crossed my body. It would take a couple of trains to get to Sunflower’s shop on the Westside.

  That was only one of several things I loved about this city. Everything was only a train or two away.

  Growing up in Manhattan, and then continuing to call it home, it was a dream for many people—wasn’t New York known as the concrete jungle? People preying on others, while many hunted opportunities, any easy opportunity.

  Life here wasn’t easy, either. If I failed at this—what else could I do? I’d never been afraid to walk around here. I’d never been one to run away from the threat of what could be.

  “I’ll be back,” I called out and dashed down the walk up to the lit-up night. Cars zoomed by, yellow taxis weaved through traffic, and the scent of fresh pizza from Giardini’s wafted in the air.

  I should have come clean, but Gran would only worry. Luckily, she had to stay behind in the apartment. She’d worry if she knew the truth.

  I moved along with the pedestrian traffic toward the
subway station, stuck my earbuds into my ear, pulled out my phone, and scrolled through my social media feed. It was the easiest way to stalk those whom I had no desire to interact with again. Just because I knew you in Pre-K, didn’t mean we had anything in common now. I swear, social media is where dreams went to die.

  My phone chirped, and on the screen popped up my sister, Claudine. The apartment always weirded her out, so she wouldn’t want to become my roommate if I didn’t get this book done on time—goodbye advance, goodbye being able to survive in the most expensive city, but all of that I could live with.

  I’d have to say goodbye to Gran. There was no way I could risk that. She was all that I had left.

  “Are you on your way to the play?” Claudine asked. She didn’t even have to be specific as to which play that might be. My favorite actor was leading a show there, and surely on his way of getting an EGOT—Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, and Tony awards. I took it all with a grain of salt. He was so close, but I wasn’t going to be that stalker chick. Plus, those tickets cost something I couldn’t pay. Maybe I’d be lucky enough to run into the magnanimous Sam Dolomite another way. Of course, the post about him on my website had generated the most traffic these past few weeks, too.

  “No, I have to go meet Sunflower at her shop.”

  “Just be careful. My feed is filled with Sam being attacked last night, roughed up and all. They found his apartment tossed and blood. Hey, I listen in to the police chatter.”

  It wasn’t strange for someone to get mugged. I’d give her that. However, the criminal had to be an idiot to follow Sam to his apartment. Although Sam liked to play those moody parts, he was an actor’s actor, meaning he went all-in on a part. If the character was supposed to be able to carry AK-47s and shoot at mythological creatures, you could be sure that he’d be running in knee-deep water and know how to shoot.

  Sam had done it all—on the stage and film. From my recollection, he could shoot, do swordplay, throw daggers, perform kick-ass roundhouse kicks, and maybe even play the guitar.

  “I’m sure he gave whoever it was a good butt whooping, and his reps just have him hiding out until this blows over.”

  “I hope he was able to walk away, but the ones who did it haven’t been found, either.”

  That wasn’t strange, either, depending on where it happened in the city. There were enough tunnels and all to hide those who knew about them.

  “Well, fine. It’s a full moon, and people are crazy now,” Claudine warned, her voice similar to my mother’s—passive-aggressive.

  “Well, if”—I paused for emphasis—“if you believe in that stuff, mercury is in retrograde, and I might even have a couple of stale fortune cookies to give you. This is all research. None of it’s real.” Maybe the more I said it, the more I could convince myself that I wasn’t about to ask the devil to dance.

  “Ha. Don’t you find it interesting that your books are always calling you toward this myth and magic that you don’t believe in?”

  Faith was personal. If I told her I had a deep connection to the Norse gods, she’d think I’d either lost my mind or watched too many superhero movies, which I loved, by the way.

  “I’m in a hurry. I can’t be late.”

  “You’re doing this because of Dad, right? It won’t bring him back, you know.”

  I stopped walking.

  Death had been something I’d not wanted to consider. With all of the pomp and circumstance of his funeral, I’d only wanted another minute with that damned man. The magic and myth gave me solace, where nothing else had. If Gran was still here, maybe he was just on the other side. Maybe I could give a little bit of my life and time to connect with him again.

  “We’re all grieving.”

  “I can’t remember his voice anymore.” It was the only thing I could say. We’d not had the best of relationships, and he’d been a major prick.

  But still, Dad—my dad.

  And now, he was too far away.

  I had to do this. Damn the warnings. Damn the repercussions.

  I’d open every door if it gave me another minute with him.

  Nothing I did could make the pain of loss go away.

  “This isn’t going to give you another minute with him.” Claudine’s voice became almost a whisper. We could talk for hours about all those dastardly things he’d done over the years, but still at the end of the call, an emptiness and pain punched me in the gut.

  “I have to try, Claudine.” I paused to stop the tears I didn’t want to shed publicly. Life could be fleeting, but it didn’t mean that letting go was as easy or simple as a goodbye. “I have to go. I’ll let you know what happens when I get home.”

  Hearing the swooshing of the subway through the grates on which I stood, I hurried down toward the subway station entrance.

  Rushing down the first set of stairs, I entered the main corridor, swiped my metro pass and pushed through the turnstile. On the landing, a man wearing an ultraviolet bob wig and an American flag bikini with roller skates loudly belted “Rolling in the Deep.”

  I’d seen everything living in this city: from half-naked cowboys, to goths carrying real live pet ravens on the train like they were on their way to some magical academy or another. It didn’t bother me. I barely blinked at it. But tonight, I paused. This guy actually had potential in the entertainment business.

  He shimmied, he twirled, he twerked, and sang on key.

  Naturally, people came to surround him, creating a circle and clapping on beat. At first, I was a little meh about it. Then he backflipped into a James Brown double-split. A loud, “oohhh” raced through the gathered crowd—part grimace at what was surely painful and also because of the dirty concrete. The men grabbed their sensitive parts, and the women made “ew” faces.

  Yep, the subway had something for everyone.

  Sunflower would help me heal.

  If that required henbane, parsley, or poppy seeds—whatever it took, I’d reach out and take that step.

  Heaven couldn’t be that far away, right?

  Chapter Four

  Killian

  “The vampires have forgotten the treaty,” Killian said. He and Rose stood before Alistair’s desk and watched the prince quirk his brown eyebrow.

  “You have this under control, Killian. I will wait outside and send forth all that I can to protect the key.” Rose exited before he could even respond. Killian watched as Alistair waited until the door snicked closed before he might answer.

  As Killian’s commander, before Killian could move forward with what he believed the best counterattack, he needed Alistair’s approval.

  In the Highlands, off of Loch Ness, the castle served as the base for the Order, and Alistair was its resident Lord.

  Alistair was slowly becoming the stereotypical castle grump from what Killian noted. Things between him and Rose must have been direr than even he’d assumed.

  Killian knew the problem, though—love made them foolish, incautious. Love created a haze that practically made them stupid, and that was not something he’d even considered when they’d moved from colleagues to dance partners.

  Alistair thought he’d be able to put Rose on a pedestal and she’d bow to all of his demands, and Rose must have forgotten that Alistair was a demanding dragon, who magically appeared as a muscular man. Killian could only shake his head as they sought to avoid each other.

  The relationship baggage they now carried around seemed to be pushed off on all of those around them, too.

  He cleared his throat, glancing around the room instead of at his uncle’s brutal stare. Alistair was all business, and there was nothing in him that could cloud his judgment when it came to his role.

  Plus, Killian knew that his mother, the Dragon Queen, would have his hide if Alistair weakened and let the realm fall to darkness because of distraction.

  A circular blackened-iron and mock-candle chandelier hung overhead from mahogany rafters. Light, bare limestone walls contrasted with the dark wooden furniture and the
red, blue, and gold Persian rug. Moonlight filtered in from the crenellation and adjacent window. A fire blazed in the massive fireplace.

  Alistair leaned back in his chair, barely fitting into the massive frame. It seemed like the more Alistair heard, the larger his form grew, almost like he’d been bench pressing tractor trailers. Alistair was massive, no stranger to having to quash a rebellion or two.

  The power of the dragon shifter couldn’t be ignored. The energy therein practically radiated. The more Killian spoke, the more Alistair’s anger vibrated.

  “The treaties are there to keep our worlds safe,” Alistair finally said. “These are nothing more than what we’ve previously dealt with.”

  Killian cleared his throat. “Brother, this time they are after the book, or at least someone has been able to find it.”

  When the first dragon arose from the ashes of Asgard, the gods found her so powerful that they sent her to Helheim and captured a part of her essence in the Book of Abomination—the same book that was said to free the vampires from the Order of the Dragon’s chokehold.

  “We’ve heard this before,” Alistair stated matter-of-factly.

  “They are looking for the key to the book, and the book acts as a beacon. Whoever has it, is in extreme danger.”

  “Danger is all around us.”

  “Yes, but whoever it is can’t do anything,” Killian muttered. “May the gods help us all.”

  As if on cue, a bright light appeared, and in that beam, a woman with wheat-colored hair appeared. Her clothing white, and she carried with her a basket of apples.

  Both knelt at Freyja’s presence. She was the Queen of Asgard, the goddess of the seidr magic, and the wife of Odin.

  “Dearest children, I come with news.” Freyja waved for them to rise, sauntered toward Alistair’s ornately carved desk and took a seat on the edge. “There is a reason that we are all hidden in plain sight. To have them disregard it threatens us all. Do we need to be reminded how it might be in an alternate version, alternate reality if the vampires ruled instead? The Order exists to protect both worlds: ours and theirs. They might be hell-bent on destroying the peace, but we must do better.” She stared at Killian.