A Touch of Brimstone by McKenzie Hunter

8

Back in the spellbook room, I was unsuccessfully trying to get used to the atmosphere and becoming increasingly curious why it didn’t bother Dominic. Did magic appeal to only magic? Could this room sense that I didn’t belong and its eeriness was repellent, trying to force me to leave? It was working; I didn’t want to be there.

Leisurely moving from shelf to shelf, I examined the books while feeling the full weight of Dominic’s attention.

“What should I do here?” I asked.

“These books hold the strongest and most arcane magic known. Something in here should work.”

I heard the hesitation in his voice and turned to him. “What else?” I asked.

“You’ll be able to find it better than I can.”

Lifting my finger, I said, “Because of this?”

He nodded.

Of course. It all came back to the markings on my finger. It was the beginning and the end.

“What do I do?” I asked again.

“Touch the books, go through the spells, and see if you feel anything. I believe antagonistic spells will respond to it.”

“Spells that want to undo what’s in place.”

He nodded.

Find the books.Starting at the lower shelves, I ran my fingers over the bindings of the books, feeling sillier with each passing moment. Dominic urged me to continue but nothing happened. Then I took one off the shelf, slowly gliding my finger over each spell in the book. If another book bit me, dammit, I was going to bite back.

After ten minutes, there was no refuting his logic or the hard jolt and noxious feeling I got when my hand went over certain spells. I placed a gray, age-warped book on the table and took some Post-its that someone had placed in the middle of the table and marked them. It went faster than I imagined once I realized slow, deliberate movements weren’t needed. The spells wanted to be found.

I found the spells, and Dominic added them to a notebook, placing them on different pages; I assumed in categories based on their designation.

Despite the phone screen having survived being used as a weapon, it wasn’t working. No service in the Underworld. Oddly, the clock on my phone hadn’t changed. I had no idea how long I had been searching. Hours had to have passed because my stomach was growling. Staying on task was increasingly difficult. But if the only option for food was to eat with Helena, I’d starve.

“We should take a break,” Dominic suggested. “Let’s get some food.”

He had to have heard my stomach, too. Understanding my hesitation, he went on. “Helena’s long finished with dinner. But we’ll go to the kitchen. That’s one place we’ll never find her.”

“I know she eats, so why don’t you think I’ll run into her in the kitchen?” I said, following him out of the room, through the library, and down the hall. Avoiding her was my mission and not knowing how much time had passed, it was possible I could run into her again, on her way for a snack.

“She eats but doesn’t believe she should have to prepare it. She has a kitchenette in her suite so she doesn’t have to come down for anything to drink.” The sharpness of disapproval was heavy in his voice. She was a self-indulgent prima donna who enjoyed “dark entertainment.” Helena seemed terrible on so many levels.

The kitchen was a chef’s dream and larger than Books and Brew’s entire store. Black stainless steel throughout, and a large marble island near the double oven. One of the counters displayed a variety of pastries, cakes, and cookies that made my mouth water. A well-stocked wine fridge was to the left, and from what I could see it contained an extensive selection. The other door near the refrigerator was undoubtedly the pantry.

Sitting on a leather barstool at the counter just a few feet from the fridge and the dessert display, I watched Dominic while he moved through the kitchen with familiarity. He opened the refrigerator and the pantry. When he finished, he placed an assortment of cheeses and breads, berries and grapes, prosciutto, summer sausage, and smoked salmon on a platter in front of me. He moved in graceful silence as he opened a bottle of pinot blanc and poured two glasses of wine.

“I’d like water, please,” I requested when he placed one of the wine glasses in front of me. He nodded, took a bottle of water from the fridge, and poured water into a glass. “This should tide you over while I prepare something for you. Do you like steak?”

“You don’t need to prepare anything. This is more than enough. I appreciate it,” I told him, looking at a platter that could easily feed four people.

Nodding, he tilted the glass of wine he’d given me and finished it in a few swallows. He drank the other glass more slowly.

Great, drunk research. Nothing can go wrong with that.

I slid the platter over toward him to share. He took some bread and a few pieces of cheese, which I believed was just to be polite.

Eating a few berries, I took in the view from the bay window. Moroccan-style lanterns provided ambient lighting for the mélange of flowers that managed to be simultaneously intriguing and disturbing.

Dominic leaned in, his head close to mine, glimpsing what drew my attention.

“Roses.” He pointed at a section of the garden. I could feel the warmth of his skin, smell his alluring scent. Focus, Luna, focus.

He directed my attention to another section. “Black Forest calla lily, and those gruesome looking things are bat orchids, compliments of my sister’s wicked inclinations.”

I nearly missed the bizarre plant as I became increasingly aware of his closeness, his warm, wine-scented breath breezing against my face. The hint of pear, white nectarine, and faint notes of honey and apple lingered on it.

He didn’t seem to mind our proximity. He left just enough space between us to bring the glass to his lips again and for me to become acutely aware of how savagely beautiful he was. After finding myself staring at him, I shifted back and shoved a piece of cheese in my mouth and concentrated on tearing off a piece of baguette.

Dominic leaned against the counter behind him and sipped his wine, looking through the window. But he didn’t seem relaxed by the view. Pulling my attention from my food to him, I took in not just his beauty but also his blood-speckled shirt. It didn’t seem to bother him. Maybe he was used to it. Blood on his shirt wasn’t cause for alarm.

“You live here?”

“Yes.”

“Are guardians of the supernatural prison typically greeted as you were and allowed to live in a mansion with their sibling?” I took a sip of water.

He met my gaze and nodded.

“You’re not just a guard are you, Dominic?” I asked, trying to emphasize his name as he had mine.

Without entertaining my question, he gulped down the remainder of his wine. “I trust you can find your way back to the room.”

With that, he was gone, striding quick and graceful down the hall.

Not wanting to chance another run-in with Helena, I devoured the rest of my food and returned to the spellbook room, where I found Dominic, who had changed into a blue shirt and midnight-blue slacks. His hair was slightly disheveled. A peppery, earthy scent of either soap or cologne broke through the other smells in the room. There was an icy edge to his mien. One that I was sure I couldn’t thaw.

In wary silence, I returned to my search. I completed the rows of books I could easily reach and unsuccessfully pushed to the tips of my toes to reach the books on the second to top shelf. Who has bookshelves this high without a step stool or ladder?

Dominic sidled up next to me, his body warm, his scent intoxicating and preferable to the others that inundated the room. With a taunting smirk, he handed me the book.

“Thank you. If you get me a step stool or ladder, I can reach the rest.”

“We don’t have a step stool.” His voice was light with amusement.

I huffed. “So, everyone who uses this room is a giant.” My height was a sore subject with me. It wouldn’t have been if people didn’t make a big deal of it. I wasn’t that short. The average height for a woman was five-four. Just two inches below average and people were ready to put me in the same category as Thumbelina. And Emoni mocking me for having that information “in the chamber” only made things worse. She was probably right; knowing the average of anything to use in a debate did point to it being a contentious subject.

He shrugged, the quirk still on his lips. “Anyone who uses this room can reach the shelves. Until now.” Based on everyone I’d seen, no one would have a problem. Even Helena was just three or four inches shorter than him.

With no desire to be more fodder for his amusement, I moved to the next shelf and worked on the books that I could reach and he continued adding spells to the notebook. The ones in languages I didn’t understand, he translated into English on the paper. Based on the twelve books we’d gone through, the marks on my finger weren’t very discerning. They had selected forty-nine spells.

“What next?” I asked.

He slid a piece of paper toward me. “These are the spells used to secure the prison. I’ve done a reversal spell and it didn’t work.” He moved closer, taking my hand in his. He removed the ring and studied the intricate markings on my finger. His hand was warm and his touch gentle as he moved my hand around to inspect each mark. Distinguishing the network, he used a finger to travel the various lines, pointing out the distinctions of the spells. There were seven spells that needed to be unraveled.

My hope began to peter out again. He evoked several spells, keeping a close eye on my finger for a reaction. When a golden outline illuminated one of the lines on my finger, we both breathed a sigh of relief. He made note of it and continued. One spell down. He invoked thirty spells out of the forty-nine and my markings only reacted to three. This was going to be a long, arduous task. And fatigue was setting in. I needed to sleep.

Standing, I stretched. “I get off work at three tomorrow,” I informed him and then flashed a smile. “Maybe you can find a step stool by then.”

His eyebrows inched together with confusion.

“Step stool or small ladder. They’re everywhere. You can get one from Target. You have to know what I’m talking about.”

He shook his head. “I know what a step stool is. Where are you going?”

“Home. I can’t stay here.” Based on the look on his face, that was exactly what was expected. For my life to be placed on hold and me to remain completely devoted to his cause until this was complete. “Dominic, I have a job. I have friends. If I go missing, things are going to get very complicated. Questions will need to be answered.”

“Luna, things are already complicated. Do you grasp the severity of this situation?”

“If anyone does, I do. You have a single-mission focus. Find the Dark Caster. When this is over, I can’t be jobless because of no-shows for work, and I’ll have to explain going missing to my friends and family. And ‘I was just hanging out in the Underworld with the Perils’ guardian’ isn’t going to cut it.”

“Tell them what you must when this is over, but you aren’t leaving.”

My heart pounded. Could he stop me leaving? How could I get out of the Underworld when he was my passage out?

“You said that as long as you willed it, I’m safe, so what’s the problem?”

“This needs to be done quickly,” he urged.

I waved my hand at the bookcases. “I’ve been here for hours and gone through shelves of books, you’ve invoked thirty spells, and we yielded three results… three spells.” Frustration was getting the best of me. “There has to be an alternative plan. Hunt the prisoners and find somewhere to store them until we have this figured out,” I suggested. Being locked away in the Underworld until this was over couldn’t be the only option. With a bold and uncharacteristic show of bravado, I headed for the door.

“No.” His firm response made me halt midstep. For several beats, I debated if I should argue then indignation fueled my reaction. This wasn’t a no situation. He didn’t have authority over my coming and going.

“No isn’t an option. Take a few minutes to reconcile with that. I’ll meet you at the front door.” Marching toward the door of the main library, I waited in anticipation of his approaching light steps. When they never came, I headed for the front door of the house. The moment I touched the doorknob, there was collective whoosh sound from behind me. Turning around, I was faced with five swords and a crossbow aimed at my chest. I froze and locked onto Dominic as he sauntered slowly toward me, his eyes never leaving mine. Breezy self-assurance and a predatory confidence hardened his gaze.

Refusing to give him the pleasure of my fear, I squared my shoulders and stood taller.

“Are you ready to go?” I asked, ignoring the weapons.

A faint, cynical smile lifted the corners of his lips. He looked to his right, where stoic Anand stood.

Casually shoving his hands in his pocket, Dominic continued his advance, his face turning eerily expressionless. “It seems that we are at an impasse, Little Luna.”

We’re back to this crap again?

“Luna is fine. We don’t need commentary on my height.”

The woman holding the crossbow moved slightly to let Dominic pass. My sight fixed on the man in front of me, who seemed far more dangerous than the weapon-wielding people surrounding me.

His eyes traced my face with interest. “What do you know of vampires?” he asked softly.

“Probably not enough. Only the stuff in fantasy books and The Discovery of Magic. You already told me most of that is wrong.”

“Who they were as humans is intensified by vampirism. Roman, whom you released, has killed thousands of people. Destroyed small cities. And created three other vampires who share his lust for violence and death. I put his sired down in their infancy and only caught him ten years ago. The witches and I have spent his existence cleaning up his messes and making sure that knowledge of the supernaturals remains hidden.” He paused. “Tell me what you know of witches.”

His jawline hardened as I remained silent. I knew very little of this world and The Discovery of Magic had given me a diluted version and a great deal of misinformation. I would not be an active participant in the castigation of my lack of knowledge.

“Luna,” he urged me in a low voice, but I remained silent. “Some witches are stronger than others. Then there are those that are significantly worse.”

Really, if you think I’m shocked by this information, you haven’t been watching.

“The worst of their kind are Mors—witches with the ability to kill with a single touch.” His finger slid languidly over my collarbone to drive home the point. “One spell, one touch, and you’re dead. I’ve found and stopped all of them, except one. Celeste. By the time I got to her, she’d performed a spell that linked her to her bloodline. If she dies, so does everyone in her bloodline.”

“So?” I said, making my voice hard and callous. “Witches aren’t immortal. She’s going to die anyway.”

Amusement played over his sharply carved features. He wasn’t falling for my act of indifference. “It gives them time to undo the spell. Madeline is quite resourceful. I do believe she’ll find a way.” Something lingered after the last sentence. He may have had an appreciation for that quality in Madeline, but there was uneasiness entwined as well.

Dominic’s impassivity made it difficult to read his mood or decipher his thoughts. Unlike his sister Helena, who’d appeared from one of the rooms. Her dark, ethereal presence was alight with the anticipation of violence.

Anand was just as hard to read as Dominic. The guards hadn’t lowered their weapons. With a deadly sword strike, this could be over for Dominic. I was very aware of that as he pondered the situation far too long for my liking.

Everyone appeared disquieted by the tension-laden silence, standing in anticipation. I struggled to keep my patience.

“I want this to be over as much as you do, and I’m committed to doing whatever I can. But when it’s over, I still have a life. I still need my job. And my friends and family will want answers about my sudden disappearance if I don’t make a showing. This is not my world. I was dragged into this fight. It seems the most pressing concern you have is the anonymity of the supernaturals. Others know about the book and what happened to me. I go missing, there’ll be questions.”

I took liberties with “others.” One person, maybe more if Reginald consulted his coven, but I needed to press upon Dominic how me going missing would hurt the anonymity they desired.

His expression hadn’t changed and I was forced to rely on Helena, who looked pleased. That wasn’t good.

“We want the same thing,” I rushed out after seeing Helena’s expression. “What are you concerned about?”

“You are the sole link to me finding the Tenebras Obducit, and finding them is important to me.”

“Fine, you want to make sure nothing happens to me”—I waved my hand in Helena’s direction—“let her come with me to work, make sure I’m safe. She can serve as my bodyguard.”

The suggestion brought on a smirk. Helena appeared aghast with disgust.

Killing and dismembering a guest in your home is perfectly fine, but playing guard for a day is where she feels scandalized?

“I work tomorrow from ten to three and I’m off the following day. If we find nothing tomorrow, then I’ll stay the next day,” I offered, hoping this would make him more amenable. I wanted him to know this was a priority for me.

He regarded me in silence as time ticked by, and my hope that things would be handled amicably dwindled.

“You’ll return after work tomorrow and stay the next day if needed,” he confirmed. There was weight in his words, as if what I said was binding. Perhaps it was. My word. Possibly to test if I would honor my word.

I nodded in agreement.

“At ease,” Dominic finally told the guards. Once they had relaxed their weapons, he dismissed them with a wave of his hand.

“Try not to die,” he said.

Who’s not choosing that option?

“Of course.”

“Let’s get you home,” he said, extending his hand for me to take.

The shimmering wall appeared to his left, and we slipped through it.

We entered my world in the alleyway behind Books and Brew, where I’d first encountered Zareb. I checked my phone. It was two in the morning and I had to be at work at ten. There were several messages. One from Jackson, which I deleted without reading, and two from Emoni, that I would answer once home. Expecting Dominic to leave once I waved goodbye and started for my apartment, I was surprised when he fell into step next to me. He seemed content with the silence as we walked, but I decided it was an opportunity to find out more about him.

“You can get home from anywhere?” I asked, turning down my street. It was still discomforting to discuss the Underworld so glibly. Calling it his home made it feel somewhat normal.

He nodded but didn’t elaborate. It was like pulling teeth to get any information from this guy.

“So why choose the alleyway next to Books and Brew and not closer to my home?”

“It’s dark, not a high traffic area. Less chance to be seen.”

“If you are seen?”

He shrugged. “Most people will convince themselves they didn’t see what they did. If I think it’s a problem, I’ll manipulate their memories so they forget it.”

Great, more horrific discoveries. There was truth to his comment. I had convinced myself that my eyes were just playing tricks on me, that it was the sun, a burst of sunlight, behind Zareb the hellhound, and not the shimmering diaphanous wall that I’d actually seen.

“I don’t like to do it. The manipulation works on other memories as well. It’s required infrequently. Humans want to believe they are the only ones who exist in this vast world. They’re very imperialistic and self-centered that way. Unaware that they are the inferior of the species.”

I scoffed. “I admire your modesty.”

“Do statements of fact require some modicum of modesty?”

I shrugged. “No, but it seems like the polite thing to do.”

“Politeness is overrated.”

“Yeah, to rude people,” I muttered under my breath.

He responded with a wry frown. “Our anonymity is not just for our benefit but that of humans as well. Knowledge of us would change the dynamics of the world. Something humans aren’t ready for. The ones who believe that supernaturals exist have a rather puerile appreciation for it. Not truly understanding the depth and nuances.”

“It’s violent and dark.”

I could feel his assessing eyes on me. “It can be.”

“It seems like that’s all there is to it,” I challenged, turning to face him once we were in front of my building. “This is my place.”

He looked at the modest building. The entire complex wasn’t as spacious as his home. It wasn’t surprising when he followed me up the three flights of stairs to my door.

Despite me leaving the door open, he stayed at the threshold, awaiting an invitation.

He was rather selective in practicing good manners. Attempts to burn me alive, direct threats, and abduction attempts—no problem. But entering my home without an invitation was where he drew the line of impropriety? Maybe he couldn’t. Like vampires in movies, he couldn’t enter without an invitation. But once he was invited, could the invitation be rescinded?

“No, I don’t require a formal invitation,” he said with a grin.

My mother always commented about my expression speaking volumes. It made communication easy most of the time but rarely gave me the advantage.

“Nor do vampires,” he added. “Something else that The Discovery of Magic got wrong.” It seemed like the only information correct in the book was the existence of the supernatural beings. It was definitely a work of fiction.

“You can come in if you’d like.”

He nodded, entered the apartment and surveyed it.

“It’s you,” he said in a neutral tone. His attention quickly moved to the book. He picked it up, flipped through it, examining each blank page as if it’d reveal something. Even my blood had been absorbed into the book. His long fingers traced the markings on the spine of the book.

“Do you know what it means?” I asked.

He nodded. More beats of silence. Damn, he was exhausting.

“What?”

“Awakening,” he whispered in a breath. “A story for another time.” And that was the only thing he offered. He returned the book to the counter. “What are your work hours again?”

“Ten to three.” Before I could question him more, he plucked strands of hair from my head and was out the door. Just so very selective about demonstrations of propriety. Who just snatches hair from someone’s head without warning them?

He knelt, allowing his fingers to glide just above the threshold, then he dropped the hairs over it. They ignited into a quick burst of flames. Upon his command, a rust-colored shimmer of light flared and disappeared.

“It’s a temporary protective field. Once you cross the threshold, it will be disabled. No one can get in.” There was a moment of hesitation. “The Caster may be able to break it, but it will be with great effort. You should be safe.”

I went to bed but sleep didn’t come easily. I had no idea what to do with all the new information. The most pressing thing: Could my life return to normal after this?