He nods and offers his arm. I blink, surprised. Refusing him would be an insult, but being this close to him feels like a trap when my response to him has been so instantaneous. I link our arms, deferring to manners. The last thing I need to do is offend a client.
It’s not usual that I am sent on jobs of this magnitude. It just happened to be he needed a powerful protection spell and requested a virgin to perform it. He understood it would make the spell three times stronger. He knows more about witches than the average vampire. I send out my feelers, gently assessing him.
He’s yet to reach his potential. I’d put him at around four-hundred easily. I wonder what line he descends from and which sire created him. I need to keep this professional and fast.
We come to a stop in front of the freshly dug grave. Immense power radiates from beneath the ground. It’s not pulsing, so I know it’s a member of the undead community or a fallen supernatural being. Either way, it’s not my place to ask.
“You understand why I chose this grave?”
I nod. The power of the person buried is directly linked to the effectiveness of the graveyard dust I’ll use to cast the spell of protection. Whoever lays here is a friend of Cristobal. Their spirit is willing to assist him.
“Sister,” she calls to me, an older witch who was quite fond of him.
“Sister,” I return her acknowledgment. “I would like to collect the dirt from your resting place if you’ll allow me.”
“Consider it done, my sister. Cris was a good friend and will continue to be one to our kind.”
I store the information to bring back home.
“She agrees.” Reaching into the burlap bag, I remove the Mason jar wrapped in black silk cloth. I hand it to Cris— Cristobal. “I want you to place this on your bare skin, so it soaks up your essence.”
He complies. I walk to the grave, opening my senses. The witch guides me, playing a game of hot and cold as I search for the right spot. I end up digging from the position where her chest area would be to retrieve dirt from the heart. I use the jar to scoop up loose soil. A jolt of electricity shoots up my arm. I gasp as the power flows through me. She’s given me her blessing and a bon. She really loved him. It’s strange to think of a witch so attached to a vampire. We tend to be a segregated bunch.
“Thank you, sister.” I bow, feeling refreshed instead of drained. She leant me some of her energy. It’s an honor, and an impressive feat after death. I wonder once more who lies in the unmarked grave.
“Are you okay?”
I glance up and jerk back. His face is inches from me. My mouth goes dry. I swallow. “Yes, your friend was quite generous. She approves of using her grave for this. It will make the protection spell even stronger.”
Reaching out, he tucks a stray hair behind my ear. I hold my breath.
“Yes, I imagined she would be.” He stands.
I screw the lid back on the jar, depositing it into my bag. I pull out a travel bottle of rum to pay my fee for buying the dirt—a tradition that goes back years and years in root working.
“For your help,” I say as the thirsty earth takes the liquor down. He holds out his hand, and I accept his help to rise. Sparks fly between us. I drop his hand and take a step back.
“What was that?” he asks.
“Residual energy from the exchange.” I refuse to look any deeper into the strange occurrence.
“Ahh. Yes, the old girl did always have a flair for the dramatic.”
The fondness in his voice intrigues me. All of the vampires I’ve come across are so cold and closed off. I get why. Once you live long enough, you get used to saying good-bye to people. It’s best to be selective who you care about, or you’ll go insane.
“I can tell.” I tuck the jar in my bag. “I believe casting the circle here will increase the potency of the spell. She wishes you well and is willing to lend her power to me.”
“I’m agreeable to that.”
“Do you have the vessel for the amulet?” I ask.
He reaches into his pocket, and I hold out my palm for the shiny silver money clip. Smart. Small and unassuming, it’s the perfect way to hide his talisman in plain sight. The cool metal is just a touch colder than his hand. His slight warmth surprises me. Perhaps he’s recently fed. His wink sends blood rushing into my cheeks. Observant, isn’t he?
“Thank you. I go over this with every client. It’s policy. Once I cast the circle, you may not exit until I finish the spell and open the circle again. I need you to remain quiet and allow me to concentrate. Regardless of what you see, taste, hear, or smell, I am in total control.”
He arches an eyebrow. “Are you expecting pomp and circumstance?”
“It takes a lot of power to protect one such as yourself. It’s a lot of energy to build up, and we’re in the middle of a graveyard full of active ghosts with a dead witch who will lend her power to us. In my mind, it’s better to be over prepared than to be caught with your ass uncovered.”