Nora's POV
I wrap my arms around myself as the cool breeze cuts through my jacket. Late May in Chicago still carries winter's bite, especially near the lake. Walking beside James toward his car, my mind wars with itself. One voice screams this is insanity while another whispers to just get this over with so we can call it even.
But mostly, curiosity devours me. He's ancient, though I can't pin down exactly how old. A few drops of his blood could amplify my spells beyond anything I've ever achieved.
Not that I'd dare ask yet. He'd demand mine in return, and something tells me vampire blood comes with strings attached. There's something magnetic about him that I can't shake. Maybe it's the danger radiating from every movement. He could tear my throat open before I could blink. That man walking ahead of us wouldn't even see James coming.
Getting in his car is reckless. I trust my abilities, but alcohol has dulled my reflexes tonight.
He's lethal, and I despise how much that thrills me. Still, I can handle myself. It's just one ride. Then we're done, and I'll never see his face again.
"I used to call this place home," I say, studying the towering buildings lining the street. "Chicago, I mean."
"Past tense?"
"Indiana now. Hour and a half drive, but far enough to escape the city chaos."
He nods without real interest in my words.
We walk several more steps before his piercing gaze finds me again. "Why did you really come tonight? It wasn't for some trendy bar experience."
"No, it wasn't." I leave it hanging there as we reach a crosswalk. "How long have you been in Chicago?"
"Longer than your lifetime, I'm sure." He pulls keys from his jacket. "Antonia and I arrived in 1962."
"Did you turn her?" I ask, remembering my vampire studies at the Academy. The connection between sires and their creations often runs deeper than blood.
"Yes."
"Are you involved romantically?" Academy classes taught me that sire relationships frequently become intimate.
"Not how you're imagining."
"Fascinating."
"Strange how readily you'd kill vampires while finding us fascinating," he says as we cross the street.
"I didn't kill that vampire at the bar." He was still breathing when we left. James whispered something to Antonia on our way out, but I missed his instructions.
He looks down at me with those penetrating eyes.
"You would have if necessary."
"If the situation demanded it, absolutely."
His mouth curves into a wicked smirk, eyes narrowing dangerously. "Now that I find intriguing."
"Do you kill intriguing people too?" The words slip out before I can stop them. I already know his answer, but hearing it aloud while about to get in his car seems unwise.
"If necessary, absolutely," he echoes my words back to me. We reach the sidewalk and turn. James's long strides force me to take two steps for every one of his.
We continue walking and cross another street, stopping only when we're two blocks from my sister's new house.
"Do you live here?" I ask, scanning the row of brick houses.
"Yes." He opens the passenger door of a pristine classic Chevelle for me.
"If you even glance at my neck, I'll transform you into a frog," I warn, pulling the seatbelt across my body.
James slides behind the wheel and raises an eyebrow. "I'd enjoy watching you attempt that." He flashes an arrogant grin and turns the ignition. The powerful engine roars to life.
"Don't tempt me. Actually, frogs are too generous. You'd make an excellent hairless rat."
He laughs and presses the accelerator, making the engine rev.
"This car is impressive," I admit.
"It is." He backs out of his spot and immediately another car claims it. "I've owned it since new."
"Benefits of immortality?"
He laughs again, but this time it sounds genuine. His face transforms, and the warmth in his eyes makes him devastatingly handsome. I bite my lip and focus on the window, watching the city blur past. He turns right, and we pass my sister's street. I close my eyes, the alcohol making it harder to suppress old memories.
"My car is on this street," I tell him. "White Jeep Grand Cherokee with Indiana plates."
He nods, having already promised to have someone deliver it tomorrow. We don't speak again until we're on the freeway, racing toward the state line.
"I suppose you don't need seatbelts," I say, twisting my purse strap through my fingers.
"Correct."
Another mile passes in uncomfortable silence. I do what I do best and make it worse. "So you own multiple properties in Chicago?"
"Not exclusively Chicago."
"Ah. An immortal real estate mogul?"
"Something like that."
"What did you think about vampires revealing themselves?"
"I was indifferent. I've always lived as I pleased regardless of human awareness."
I drum my fingers on my thigh. "For me, it didn't change much. We witches always knew about you, so watching non-magical people panic about vampire neighbors was amusing. Like, surprise, they've been there forever. At least now you know."
"Nons?"
"Non-magical humans."
He studies me like I'm a puzzle he can't solve.
My phone buzzes with a text from Ophelia about a potion recipe in my Book of Shadows. I tell her I'm away, and she says it's not urgent.
I put my phone away and position my hands toward James. If he tries anything, I'll hit him with a spell that'll send him flying from this car.
I lean back against the seat, eyelids growing heavy. I close them for just a moment.
I wake to James reaching into my purse.
"What are you doing?" I snatch it back. "Trying to rob me?"
"Getting your license for your address so I can take you home."
"Oh. That makes sense. Where are we?"
We're parked at a gas station, bright lights flooding the windows. "Never mind, I recognize this place. Twenty minutes from home." I unbuckle my seatbelt.
"Where are you going?"
"Bathroom."
He purses his lips. "Humans are so demanding."
"Yeah, whatever," I dismiss him and get out, still drunk despite my nap. I expect him to be gone when I return, but he's there, leaning against the car looking mysterious.
I grab water and head to the counter. The door chimes as a man enters. Something feels wrong immediately. I turn to look at him. He's stocky, wearing dirty boots, faded jeans, and a once-white shirt. He fits perfectly in this small farming town. He heads to the coffee station.
I turn back to the cashier and sharp pain stabs between my eyes. I wince and pitch forward. Everything echoes and my vision darkens. Gripping the counter, I inhale but start coughing.
Because I'm breathing smoke. I spin around, head pounding worse, and I'm no longer in the gas station. I'm in a field where a crowd surrounds a burning pyre. I can't see the woman tied up, but I know.
She's a witch and they're burning her alive.
Through the smoke, a man approaches. He twitches as he walks, and my heart races as he appears. He wears dark robes with eyes black as ink.
"Like those before you, you'll be next, half-breed," he says and reaches for me. Long fingers grip my wrist and yank me toward the flames.
The vision vanishes suddenly. My purse is on the floor, and the man with dirty boots holds my hand.
"Ma'am, are you okay?" he asks.
"I'm not a half-breed," I say aloud. "That makes no sense."
He looks at the cashier and tugs gently. "Maybe you should sit."
"No, I'm fine."
"You don't look fine."
I meet his eyes, and his face flashes to the man in my vision. Something about how he looked at me, like he knew me. Like he'd been hunting me. Like it was only a matter of time before he found me, and when he did, he'd be ready because they'd waited long to finally get me, to get revenge on someone.
The gas station door flies open and James moves at vampire speed. He extends his hand, shoving the man away from me, sending him flying backward.
"What the hell?" I whirl on James, eyes wide. "Why did you do that?"
"I could hear your heart racing. You're terrified."
"Not of him." I gesture at the guy pushing himself off the floor. I get another flash of the robed man. His skin is burned and blistered, oozing thick red blood. He's wearing a pendant with an unfamiliar symbol etched in brass.
"Then what's happening?"
"Wait," I hold up my hand to silence James. I tilt my head, narrowing my eyes as I remember the man approaching me. The pendant was smeared with blood and something more substantial. Flesh, maybe?
Taking a breath, I pick up my purse and pull out a five-dollar bill, setting it on the counter.
"Keep the change," I tell the thoroughly freaked-out cashier. Grabbing the water, I look at James. "Let's go."