To Kill a Sorcerer Page 13

  “Incredible,” I said. “Now I understand your apprehension.”

  “About your LAPD partner, Mr. Hamilton. What does he know of you?” Marcus asked.

  “He does not know my true nature.”

  “It is his job to arrest this murderer if you should establish his guilt.”

  “Yes.”

  “According to Aliena, Detective Hamilton gives no credence to the possibility of supernatural events, including magic.”

  “That’s right,” I said.

  “It is also her contention that you care what happens to him.”

  “I do. He is a good man.”

  “Then you may want to keep a close eye on him,” Marcus said. “If this killer is in possession of the key and can make the Akashic Records work for him, he may be able to re-create the power of the men from the fourth century. And if he accomplishes that, he will not fear policemen.”

  “Nor any of us, apparently.”

  “Not even God himself.”

  “Herself,” Aliena corrected.

  Twenty-Two

  Thursday, December 23, 5:38 a.m.

  Marcus said good night. As soon as he lifted off the patio, I frowned at Aliena.

  “You already knew Marcus’s story about the battle of magic when we met with Reed last night, didn’t you?”

  No answer.

  “I do not invite you to those consults because you look good standing in the room.”

  She looked away.

  Now I was angry. She hadn’t said anything, either before the second murder or after it. Yet I was certain she had formed the same theory as Marcus when she saw the photos of the Barlow murder scene. Telling me would not have stopped the second murder, but I did not like her withholding anything from me.

  “You might have mentioned it, Aliena,” I said. “My people are experts, you know that. They can do amazing things with the tiniest bits of information.”

  “I wanted to consult with Marcus first, as I told you.”

  “What has that to do with keeping me informed?” I asked. “If you wish to consult with anyone else, that’s your affair, but I expect you to keep me in the loop about every speculation you may have. You’ve wondered about this since that first night, when you saw the pictures of the Barlow girl, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, it occurred to me.”

  “I can understand why you didn’t bring this up in front of Reed and Hamilton, but I wish you had told me.”

  “You’re right, Sebastian. I am sorry.”

  I hadn’t expected an apology. Aliena never admitted she had done something wrong. Even when we both knew she had.

  She stood in front of the Christmas tree, skimmed her fingers over the branches.

  “The lights are lovely, Sebastian.” She looked up at the angel. “Is she holding a candle for anyone in particular?”

  “For only one.”

  I wondered about her relationship with Marcus. That he was my rival for her affections was without doubt. He did not attempt to hide his desire for her. And while Aliena seemed unaffected by his charms, her natural aloofness made her difficult to read.

  “Let’s go for a walk on the beach.”

  “That sounds nice,” I said. “Shall I drive?”

  “Don’t be silly.” She took my hand, led me onto the deck. We wrapped our arms around each other, and she lifted us into the air. I hung on tight.

  “Are you grabbing my bottom?” she asked. Our noses were nearly touching.

  “You know I am.”

  “And why should I allow that?”

  “I have a fear of heights. Hanging on to you like this is the only way I feel safe.”

  “You are such a terrible liar.”

  The headlights on the Pacific Coast Highway resembled a pulsing, multi-jointed caterpillar as we passed high above them. Once on the ocean side, Aliena descended and deposited us on the smooth sand near the tide line.

  The Malibu Pier bulked in the distance, a spindly silhouette on the horizon. We headed toward it slowly, the sand shifting beneath our feet, the surf to our right. She reached out and took my hand.

  “How long have the oceans been here?”

  “Over four billion years.”

  “That is so long ago, it might as well be the beginning of time,” she said quietly.

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t know why, but I find some comfort in that. To know they are ageless beyond anything we are.”

  “I know the feeling.”

  We approached a dark shape on the sand just above the surf line. The cold sea air carried a familiar smell of rot. The shadowy form turned out to be a dead seal. We skirted it, noting the gaping wound in its side and the bite marks on its head that indicated a shark attack.

  “I would have made a much cleaner kill,” Aliena said.

  “Yes, I’m sure you—wait a minute, you don’t kill seals, do you?”

  “Oh, Sebastian, do lighten up!”

  “Seals are endangered! Aliena, I want you to promise me that—”

  “Yes, yes, I know. No more seals. You are becoming quite a bore.”

  “You’re feeding on endangered seals, and I’m a bore. I like that.”

  “How you do go on about nothing!”

  We continued toward the pier, the dull roar of the ocean a timeless score for our late-night promenade.

  She squeezed my hand. “I am sorry if I hurt you by bringing Marcus into the investigation.” Her voice became playful. “I know how much you care for me.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Her tinselly laugh floated above the rushing of the waves. “I saw the way you looked at him. I am flattered. I mean that sincerely.”

  Was I a fool, wasting my time pursuing Aliena? In spite of my longevity, I don’t like to take time for granted. I live every day as fully as I might. If wooing Aliena became, in my opinion, a futile endeavor, I would have to reevaluate my priorities.

  We stopped and sat on the sand. Her leg pressed against mine. We stayed like that for several minutes, holding hands and watching the rolling surf.

  “Marcus thinks it’s likely we will not catch this killer in time to stop him,” she said.

  “His assessment is premature.” But probably accurate, since we had no idea who the killer was.

  “And if this man has the Key of Akasha?”

  “That would present us with a serious problem.” Marcus’s description of the first War of Magic came to mind. If only one man controlled such energies, what might he dare? The answer was chillingly simple: he would do whatever he wanted and take anything he desired. The murders of Sherri and Jessica proved he had no qualms about sacrificing people to achieve his goals. And if torturing three girls to death yielded the power of a Thief of Souls, what forces might he acquire by destroying an entire city?

  Aliena roused me from my bleak thoughts by pulling on my hand. Her dark eyes were wide.

  “May I have a drink?”

  I raised her hand to my lips. “You may have a drink anytime you like. But I thought you had dined with Marcus earlier.”

  “So that is why you looked at him with fire in your eyes.” She pulled me close. “Marcus has desired me for a long time, but I do not love him.”

  While slightly annoyed at my transparency, she had provided me with an opening to ask the question. “Is there anyone you do love?”

  She raised my hand to her mouth and slid a cool tongue across my knuckles. “No vampire.”

  A breeze ruffled her honey mane. The mole above her lip gleamed in the moonlight, and the need to kiss it nearly overwhelmed me. I bottled my passion, recalling the cab ride.

  She leaned forward until our noses touched. “May I have a drink?”

  “Aren’t you full?”

  “Not at all. My dinner was a small man, and I didn’t drain him. Besides, no one tastes like you, you know that.”

  “I suppose you want to be on top again?”

  “Please and thank you,” she
said, pushing me onto my back. She squirmed eagerly into position, squashing her buxom body against mine, stirring me considerably.

  “Aliena I said, tortured.

  “I know,” she said, closing her eyes as she brushed her lips against mine. She leaned back and with a wicked smile, ground her hips against me. I groaned and turned my head to the side. She licked my neck.

  “It is only seven centuries of experience that keep me from forcing myself on you.” I kissed her satiny ear.

  “What about the fact that I could easily break every bone in your body if you were to attempt such a thing?”

  “That is also a deterrent.”

  A shudder went through her. “Oh, God, you smell soooo good.” Her eyes burned, canines lengthened. “Your blood is luscious, so luscious, Sebastian, so rich, not the watery drink of mortals.” She slid her hand into my hair, pulled my head into position, and made a slight hissing sound as she bent to my throat. I caught a glimpse of her red eyes and distended jaw, the predatory sharpness of her fangs. I stifled a groan as she bit in. No matter how often she fed from me, puncturing the sensitive skin of my throat agonized me.

  Soft sighs of pleasure filled my ear as Aliena drew my plasma into her mouth. I exhaled a long breath, watching a lone seagull circle above us, listening to the crashing of the waves grow dimmer as blood loss began to fog my brain.

  This at least was one advantage I had over Marcus. I could provide Aliena with a full feeding without dying, a delicious drink he could never give her. That was my last thought before passing out.

  When my vision cleared, Aliena’s angelic face appeared, our noses a few centimeters apart. She laid her head on my shoulder and squeezed me. I hugged her tight as blood surged through my limbs and roared in my ears. Fingers and toes tingled, and my throat itched as the ripped skin repaired itself.

  Aliena lifted her head and kissed my cheek with blood-heated lips. Her face radiated a pink glow. I hoped she would kiss me on the mouth.

  She rolled off and plopped cross-legged on the sand next to me.

  I sat up and brushed the sand out of my hair.

  “Thank you,” she said, a giddy note in her voice. “Even as a mortal girl, I never tasted anything as sweet as you.”

  “So you have told me.”

  “You are wonderful to let me drink from you, Sebastian. Does it hurt much?”

  “Not at all. Truly, it is my pleasure.”

  “You are a dear.” She scanned the sky. “Come, let’s fly back. It’s close to my bedtime.”

  When Aliena set us down on the deck, I sagged, shaky from her long drink. Inside, I staggered to the refrigerator and quaffed two liters of water and two liters of orange juice while Aliena watched.

  I set the bottles in the sink and closed my eyes, loving as always the expanding, vibrating sensation that signaled the activation of my immortal engine.

  Aliena waited, knowing my need.

  Fully recovered, I took her hand. “Before you go, there is something I want to show you.”

  I led her down the hall to the first room on the left. Set into the wall next to the doorframe was a square glass sensor. As we entered, the lights came up.

  This was the lower guest bedroom, with a queen-size sleigh bed, a bureau and matching wardrobe in dark oak, vanity with chair, and Tiffany lamps on the bedside tables. A full-length antique mirror stood near the vanity. On the wall opposite the bed was a small brick fireplace. The room was painted eggshell white, the bedding and draperies pastels.

  “I have converted this room for you,” I told her, crossing to the far wall. I parted the heavy curtains, revealing black panes. “The windows are carbon fiber, opaque and bulletproof.”

  She leaned against the doorframe, her arms folded over her chest, her legs crossed at the ankles.

  Cruising to the armoire, I opened the two large doors, revealing the interior. “Everything in this room is empty. And of course, you have your own shower.” I pointed.

  Aliena owned a house in Studio City, but she never slept there. It was primarily a place to keep her clothes and cherished possessions.

  “Oh. One more thing.” Sliding one of the bureau drawers open, I lifted a pair of printed underclothes out of it. Her eyes widened.

  “You remembered!”

  They were Bugs Bunny pajamas. She had mentioned to me twenty years ago that she only wore Bugs to bed. It was hard to tell if she was joking, but I had made a note of it.

  “I’ve always wondered what you would look like in cartoon nighties. So I found your favorite.”

  “Ah, that is why you have made this room for me. You want to see me in bed.”

  I went to her and took her hands in mine.

  “You know better than that.”

  Her flesh glowed, warm with my blood. The high complexion in her cheeks leant an angelic cast to her exquisite features.

  “Of course,” I said, “with you right here, comatose, practically naked—”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  I kissed her knuckles. “Any time you are sleeping here, I swear on my honor, nothing will disturb you.” I gestured to the square glass sensors on the walls. “Only your palm or mine can activate the door.”

  “It is a lovely thought. I will think about it.”

  “Thank you.” I glanced at my watch. 6:34. “It’s time for you to go.”

  We returned to the living room. She stopped near the patio doors and looked at the brightly lit Christmas tree again, up at the angel. I put my hands on her shoulders, turned her to me.

  “You’re standing under the mistletoe.”

  She glanced at the plant hanging from the beam. “So I am.”

  As I leaned toward her, she slid her arms around my neck.

  When our lips touched, I opened my mouth slightly and pulled her lower lip in. I pressed harder against her and felt her arms tighten as her lips parted. I slid the tip of my tongue into her mouth. Breaking the kiss, I turned my head to the side, kissing her from a different angle, this time starting at the corner of her mouth and sliding my lips across hers. Her mouth opened, and her tongue tentatively tasted my lips. I sucked on it gently. She melted against me as she had done on the beach, her body becoming a soft mold against mine.

  As we explored each other intimately, my spirit grew alight with the fire of her presence.

  She finally pulled away, staring at my mouth, her lips parted, mole glistening in the blinking lights. She dragged the tip of her finger along my lower lip. Her gaze rose slowly to my eyes. “That was wonderful.”

  “It is only the beginning.”

  “I know.” She pressed her finger against my lips. “I can feel it, too. Please be patient with me.”

  “Of course, my darling.”

  My head swam from the obvious passion of her embrace as she led me onto the deck. She turned and gave me a soft, lingering kiss on the cheek.

  “See you tonight.”

  She lifted slowly into the air, staring down at me. Then she blurred and disappeared into the backdrop of stars while I stood looking up, my mind aflame with a divine, delirious ache.

  Twenty-Three

  Thursday, December 23, 6:49 a.m.

  The sky gleamed cobalt. I sat on the low patio wall and smoked as the stars faded from view. Aliena was probably tucked into her lair by now.

  She hid her cell phone high in a tree or on top of a building every morning, and picked it up every night after waking, so no one could use the GPS signal to find her sleeping place. She told me that for the last ten years, she had been stripping down to nothing and hiding her clothes many miles from her bed, so concerned was she over the sophisticated tracking devices available these days.

  The thought of her running nude through the forest, a beautiful, steel-white nymph, impervious to the elements, the most dangerous creature in the woods, roused me deeply, bringing to mind images of Diana, the virgin huntress—goddess of the moon.

  Musing on our parting kiss, I fought down the soaring feeling in my
breast with panicky quickness. Failing to curb my feelings for Aliena would be a terrible mistake. Her emotions toward me were too capricious.

  But kissing her had been more intense than I had believed possible. My pulse rose as I remembered the way her long body had turned liquid against mine.

  I went inside, closed the doors, and checked my watch. Three hours before I picked Hamilton up at the station. I had time for a trip to the ether.

  Reed hypothesized that if our killer had made a mistake during a magical ritual, he might have lost a soul. And though he had also said the chance of meeting one of the victims in the ether was improbable, it was worth it to take a look. Several permanent entities resided in this area, and they may have seen or heard something relating to the girls. It was a slim lead, thinner than a Hollywood starlet, but I wanted to leave no avenue unexplored.

  Reclining on the floor, I crossed my hands over my chest and began breathing rhythmically. In moments I had slipped into a deep trance. I visualized my spirit body. With a slight tug on my chest, my ti bon ange rose from my physical form.

  The inner spirit is composed of two parts, the gros bon ange, or big guardian angel, and ti bon ange, or little guardian angel. It is the latter that travels in the ether—and warily. The ti bon ange can be captured, even killed, by forces on the astral plane. Any injuries sustained by the spirit are mirrored in the physical body, so it is crucial to avoid harm.

  Once free of my shell, I gazed down at my recumbent form and confirmed my silver cord stretched back to it. Thus reassured, I turned and floated up and through the ceiling and continued rising until I was fifteen or twenty meters above my house.

  I hovered there, looking at the sky and the ocean. Gray clouds scudded fast across a slate sky. The moon was still up with Sirius and the blazing Orion Nebula.

  It is difficult to generalize the experience of traveling on the astral plane to someone who has never been there. Your body feels the same, but it does not move the same way—at least, not until you begin abiding by certain rules, in your mind. For instance, I always feel buoyant when I begin, so I start by “flying.” I use no muscles of which I am aware when I travel this way, only thought. However, it is also possible to “land” and walk on the ground, even sit on chairs and lean against things, but you have to believe the ground and the chair are there in a way that is unlike the physical world.