Spellcasting with a Chance of Spirits: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Romance Novel (Grimm Cove Book 3) Read online

  “Are you in there?” asked Harker. “I asked if you said something.”

  Bram shook his head.

  Harker watched him with knowing eyes. “All the blood too much for you?”

  “It’s proving to be a challenge,” admitted Bram. “I thought I had more control of it, of him.”

  Standing without hurry, Harker nodded. “We all think that until we don’t.”

  Bram inhaled deeply, still relishing the metallic scent of blood that coated the area, masking nearly all other smells.

  Feed. Do it. So much blood for the taking. So, take it. Hear the wolf-shifter’s heart beating? Sink your teeth into him.

  “I already warned you,” he said, this time out loud.

  Harker offered a slow blink. “Is this one of those moments when you look like you’re talking to me, but you’re really talking to your other side?”

  “Yes,” returned Bram.

  “And it’s telling you to kill me…again…isn’t it?” questioned Harker.

  Bram sighed. “Kill? No. Sink my teeth into and feed, yes.”

  “Oh, that’s a step in the right direction,” added Harker, a teasing note in his voice. “At this rate it will have you making eyes at me from across the pub.”

  Bram stared at his longtime friend. “Highly unlikely.”

  Harker shrugged. “You’re not my type.”

  “Because I’m not a woman?”

  Harker grinned. “Right.”

  “How are we friends again?” asked Bram with a snort.

  “Met by way of a prince who liked to impale things. You might remember him. Big ego. Big castle. Big fangs,” said Harker, waggling his brows.

  With a snort, Bram nodded. “I think I recall who you’re talking about.”

  “He’s pretty full of himself. Hard bloke to forget,” added Harker.

  He wasn’t wrong. Vlad, more commonly known as Dracula, did have an ego that was limitless. It didn’t help that the character he’d inspired in a novel had spawned countless books, movies, and merchandise. Bram was no stranger to the notoriety either, but he didn’t bask in it like Dracula did. Thankfully, the author of the original work, Stoker, had layered in misdirects, taking only grains of truth.

  Humans thought they knew the tale. They were wrong. They knew only a version of the story. The actual players were far more deadly, and the evil they’d all faced long ago had come from more than one source. Not to mention, Dracula was hardly the only immortal involved in it all. He was simply the only one who had been somewhat outed.

  From Bram’s understanding, Dracula got a big kick out of being a famed fictional character from a gothic horror novel. He was even known to show up at places dressed in what people believed he’d wear—a cap, a top hat, and so on.

  Stoker’s book was meant to be something of a cautionary tale. In truth, the book had the opposite effect than intended. Over the years, humans managed to take it, twist it, put a sexual spin on it, and ultimately romanticize the idea of creatures of the night.

  Bram snorted.

  He was hardly leading-man worthy.

  If anything, he was the type of man a woman should avoid at all costs. He was walking death.

  Speak for yourself, snapped the demon. I’m what women crave. You are merely the vessel by which I give them what they want. I am the one with the lure and prowess. You are nothing.

  “You are merely a pain in my—” He stopped just short of saying it all when he realized how loudly he was speaking.

  “You know, I don’t have full-blown conversations with my wolf side,” added Harker with a touch of judgment in his voice. “And I haven’t run into any other vampires who talk to their demon like you do. You know, heart-to-hearts for all to hear. Not even Prince Dick-u-la. And let’s be honest, if anyone of you lot were going to spend forever arguing with himself and thinking he was his own best company—it’s him. You’re a bit of an odd duck.”

  “Perhaps you should think about having a heart-to-heart with your wolf, considering you ate one of my Italian loafers while in shifted form last month,” said Bram. “That, or think about letting me collar you and take you for walks while you’re in wolf form to work out your excess energy and teach you to behave.”

  Harker snorted. “Nah. I’m fine with my wolf eating your shoes. You’ve got plenty. You do know you have a weird shoe fetish, right? You have how many pairs?”

  Bram shrugged. “A few.”

  Harker looked at the state of the body nearest him. “What do you think left these bite marks? They don’t look to be animal or vampire related. They look almost human. Except there is some curiously putrid-smelling slime all over them.”

  The tone went from light to serious quickly, considering what they were standing in the center of. With all they’d seen in their long lives, Bram and the others like him were somewhat immune to the horrors of the world. That didn’t mean that certain things did not still get to them.

  Bram stared harder at the bites and caught another whiff of the rotten-egg smell. It was nearly impossible to deny the evidence before him. “My gut says it was ghouls.”

  “I was afraid you’d say that,” replied Jonathan. “Is that smell what I think it is?”

  “The rotten-egg one?” questioned Bram.

  Harker gave a slight nod.

  Bram returned it and, for a brief moment, neither man said a word.

  “Damn,” whispered Jonathan, breaking the silence. “All the signs are pointing to Dragos being out and running with this prick again. I mean, we all knew they’d been pals back in the day, but the last time they ran around together was before we came on the scene. Dragos was a bastard to start with. Over the years, we’ve more than come to know Ager is as big of one, if not worse. If they’re in league again, there’s no telling what they’re capable of.”

  Chapter Two

  Bram

  Bram said nothing. There wasn’t anything to add to it all. He merely stared around at the aftermath. Harker was right. If the necromancer and the others were traveling as one again, no one was safe.

  “Might be time to send out another summons,” said Harker. “I know you’re normally against pulling that card, and that you only just sent a summons around six months ago, but this is bigger than we first thought. The Order is involved, and if we’re right, so is Dragos. We’ll need all our players on the field.”

  “I know,” said Bram. “I’ll do that when we get back to the hotel. It would be unwise for me to tap into my demon side right now—in the middle of all this death and bloodshed.”

  Harker regarded him closely. “This is about more than just the blood. You still having issues sleeping? No offense, but you look knackered.”

  “I am,” confessed Bram. He had been having issues with sleeping but had only confided as much in Harker. He didn’t need everyone more on edge around him.

  “The dreams still the same?” inquired Harker.

  Bram glanced around, taking into account how close any other members of the team were. “Yes and no.”

  “Oh, goodie,” said Harker with a sideways grunt. “I do love it when you’re cryptic.”

  Bram expelled a long breath before speaking. “The woman is still in them.”

  “The hot blonde you’re getting down and dirty with in the most biblical of ways but when you wake you can’t remember her face?” asked Harker.

  Bram nodded.

  “Tell me again why that would make it hard for you to sleep?” Harker snorted. “I’d be all about getting as much shut-eye as I could if it meant when I closed my eyes, I got to shag a gorgeous woman nightly.”

  It would be hard to fight that logic, if that was really all that was happening. It wasn’t. The dreams brought a sense of panic with them. A deep-set fear that something was going to happen to the woman. That this mysterious woman, whom Bram couldn’t ever fully remember during his waking hours, was important to him, and that she was in mortal danger. That something evil was hunting her.

  The bigge
st concern of all was that Bram was the evil he feared.

  There were times he woke in a cold sweat, having just dreamt that he’d taken her hard and rough in the most carnal of ways—right before his demon surged up.

  Just thinking on it now caused his pulse to speed and sweat to form on his brow.

  “You all right?” asked Harker.

  Bram closed his eyes a moment. “I honestly do not know.”

  “How often are you having these dreams of this woman?” asked Harker. “Still just a couple of times a week?”

  Swallowing hard, Bram tried to ignore the smell of blood as he answered. “No.”

  “More than that?” asked Harker.

  Bram acknowledged the question with a slight tilt of his head.

  “How much more?” Harker continued, worry in his voice.

  “Every time I fall asleep as of late,” confessed Bram.

  “You’ve been burning the candle at both ends, mate,” said Harker, as if that alone explained everything. “Did you feed today?”

  Bram tried to recall the last time he’d stopped to drink from the bagged blood reserves he traveled with. He drew a blank.

  You. Did. Not, said his demon, punctuating every word, annoyance rising as it did.

  Harker refrained from lecturing him, which Bram appreciated. “I’ve got this if you need to step away.”

  “Old friend, this is our cross to bear,” said Bram, the pun not lost on him. “We’ll face it together.”

  Harker visually scanned the surrounding remains. “I can’t even begin to guess where they’ll strike next or what will be left in their wake. Each crime scene is worse than the last.”

  Bram stared off into the tree line, his mind racing. “Everything in me says they’re headed to America. That this was just to make sure we knew it was them.”

  “The Order has always had a flair for the dramatic,” said Harker as he nodded his head to one of the bodies.

  The team member who was documenting the scene approached. “I’m done in this area. They’re going to start bagging the bodies.”

  “Michael,” said Harker. “Can you be sure to get the outlying area too? I don’t want to miss anything. Spiral method, please.”

  Michael Hutton walked off and began singing something about being turned right round—whatever that meant.

  Confusion must have showed on Bram’s face because Harker snickered.

  “From a popular song back in the ’80s,” said Harker.

  “How young is he?” asked Bram, unsure of Michael’s actual age.

  Harker snorted. “A right bit younger than us, old friend.”

  Michael worked his way out in a pattern that left him widening the circle he was examining. He took his time, carefully logging the evidence. That would assure they had ample photographs, measurements, and notes for later reference.

  Once Michael was far enough away to afford them privacy, Harker turned his attention back to Bram. “We should bring Seward and Morris in on this,” he said, listing the others who had taken part in defeating Dragos long ago. All the men also had direct ties to Dracula. “Of course, that will mean you and Seward will need to act like grown-ups and stop fighting like schoolboys.”

  “He started it,” said Bram quickly, instantly falling back into old habits when it came to the feud.

  Harker grunted. “Did he? The way I remember it, you got your knickers in a twist because he wanted to tell your daughter the truth of who and what she is after her mother passed.”

  “See,” stated Bram evenly. “He did start it. Had he left well enough alone and allowed me to handle my own family affairs, all would be fine now.”

  Harker couldn’t have rolled his eyes harder if he tried. “Come off it, mate. We both know you aren’t handling it, and you never were. Tucking your head in the sand and hoping for the best when it comes to Dana isn’t a working game plan, despite what you think.”

  “Now isn’t the time or the place for this discussion,” warned Bram.

  “Really? Seems to me that standing over fresh kills caused by an enemy you’ve been hunting for over a hundred years, who is clearly trying to send you a message, is a prime time for the talk. She needs to know the truth, Bram. You aren’t able to tell her. You know it. I know it. Seward knows it. Let him do it,” said Harker, no malice in his voice. “She’s special to us all, and while I know you and I are close, Seward is something like a brother to you. Trust that he can handle this. That he has only ever had your best interest at heart.”

  “Dana’s been safe so far,” stated Bram.

  “Because she had Daniella there for the first half of her life, as well as Wilma. How much longer does Wilma have left? She’s pushing a hundred.”

  At the mention of Daniella’s mother, Bram cringed. Wilma detested the very air he breathed.

  Harker continued, “Dana’s had Wilma’s magik protecting her as much as it can ever since she was born. Not to mention the New York teams of slayers checking in on her. Then there was the whole, you ordering Dwayne and his family to insert themselves into her life, only to rip them away the second you found out his son was dating her.”

  “Do not remind me,” said Bram. When he’d sent one of Harker’s many relatives to New York to put himself and his family in Dana’s day-to-day life so that someone could be close to her at school, he never dreamed it would end in a budding relationship between Dwayne’s son, Kellan, and Dana, but it had. The second he’d learned as much, Bram had recalled Dwayne and his family, forbidding Kellan from contacting Dana again.

  “You’re in charge,” said Harker. “We all know that, but that doesn’t mean you’re always right. On this, you’re dead wrong. Emphasis on the dead. It’s been twenty years since you and Seward had the falling-out. It’s past time one of you takes the high road. With The Order and what they’re pulling, that time is now, Bram.”

  “It hasn’t been twenty years,” said Bram before thinking better of it. Truth was, it had been slightly over that since Daniella’s passing and the argument with Seward. He gasped.

  “Did the math, I see,” said Harker with a snort. “I get time is on our side, being immortals and all, but be a big boy now, Bram. Call Seward. Say you’re sorry. Free him from the ridiculous blood oath you made him take back then that keeps him from telling her or anyone else the truth. Let him do what you should have done by now—let him tell Dana the truth. He’s pretty damn qualified when it comes to dealing with people and their emotions, wouldn’t you agree?”

  He was right.

  Not that Bram cared to admit that out loud.

  Harker wasn’t done. “Bram, we don’t need history to repeat itself. Want what happened between you and Holmwood to happen again?”

  “No,” said Bram, his body tightening as he remembered his friend, Arthur Holmwood. They’d gotten into an argument that had started over the amount of time Arthur was spending in the company of the Fae. While Bram wouldn’t have normally thought much of it, Arthur had been rumored to be romantically involved with a member of the Nightshade Clan of Fae.

  While all Fae had ties to nature, some had other strengths. The Nightshade were well-known for their ties to death magiks and to The Order of the Dragon. Something best left untouched, especially by a vampire—which Arthur had been.

  But Arthur had dug in his heels, butting heads with Bram to the point they’d come to blows. The next Bram knew, five years had passed, and he’d found himself on the receiving end of devastating news.

  Arthur had been killed and the necromancer was thought to be behind it all.

  He didn’t want that fate for Seward. He didn’t want to get a phone call alerting him that his friend was no more. That any chances to make amends were gone.

  Once had been enough.

  He didn’t need it to happen again.

  Clearing his throat, Bram squared his shoulders and looked at his friend. “I’ll reach out to Seward. But for now, Harker, I think it’s best you make a call to the others back in Gri
mm Cove. Speak with Elis. Make sure he knows to have the men be on the lookout for anything strange or out of the ordinary,” said Bram, wanting to avoid more talk of his daughter.

  “You do realize that everything about Grimm Cove is strange and unusual,” said Harker with a forced smile.

  Bram couldn’t help but chuckle. “True. But above the norm.”

  “Can do,” said Harker before stepping away to make the call.

  Instantly, the smell of blood filled Bram’s head once more, making his demon rock violently within him. The demon wanted to be fed and was done with being pushed aside. It wanted to revel in the surrounding carnage. Too much time had passed since it had been allowed to do as it pleased—to wreak as much havoc as it could. Too many years since Bram had learned to control it enough to keep it from killing others.

  It wanted a piece of the freedom Dragos had clearly been gifted.

  But there was no way Bram would permit that to be. He’d not spent the greater part of his life learning to lock the darkness down, only to grant it unlimited access to the general public.

  No.

  That couldn’t ever happen again.

  The one time it had—when he’d been newly sired and at the demon’s mercy—it had committed unspeakable acts of violence. And it had left a trail of dead bodies in its wake. It was an act that haunted him to this very day.

  One for which he’d never be able to seek absolution because the act was unforgivable.

  Harker returned with more of their men and pulled Bram aside.

  From the look on his face, he hadn’t come bearing good news.

  “What is it?” asked Bram.

  “Two things,” said Harker. “The New York team called in. Looks like The Ripper struck there overnight. Not far from Dana’s place.”

  Bram and his demon went on high alert.

  Harker lifted a hand. “She’s totally fine. That was the first thing I asked. They said she’s at her place and one of her friends is with her for the weekend.”

  Instantly, Bram’s thoughts filled with fragments from his dreams. Of the blonde woman he continued to see in his sleep. The one who filled his nights with sex and passion but left him waking in a panic that something had happened to her.