Page 19 of Bitten Vampire (The Bitten Chronicles #2)

Chapter Eighteen

I lie on a lounger in the shade of a tree, watching Baylor splash in the pool like a toddler on a sugar high.

When I arrived home, I changed and told House everything.

She’s now on red alert, scanning for anyone watching the house, checking and double-checking her wards.

She hasn’t found anyone—yet—but I can tell she is nervous, even if she won’t admit it. She doesn’t blame me.

I still blame myself.

The garden has expanded to accommodate the pool and what must be dozens of dog toys.

All squeaky. All bright. All irresistible, judging by Baylor’s dopey grin.

This isn’t a country for outdoor pools—our weather is chilly nine months of the year—but today the water glitters in the sun, neither chlorinated nor salted, simply water: pure and clear, kept immaculate by House’s magic. Not even a fly dares touch its surface.

Baylor sprawls on the wide steps, chest-deep, tongue lolling as he pants with exhaustion.

I grab a towel. “Come on, it’s time to get out.”

He ignores me—of course he does—then dives for a floating T-bone steak toy.

“Baylor, it’s time. Out.”

He turns his back, tail wagging in open defiance, droplets flying.

“Don’t ignore me,” I say in my best mum voice.

He grumbles, circles back with the toy clenched in his teeth, and finally hauls himself out. I towel him down, muttering about dramatic huskies.

“Come on, buddy.”

Inside, a flash of House’s magic dries him instantly, and the damp towel vanishes from my hands, replaced by a mug of hot tea.

“Thanks.”

Baylor flops onto the carpet with a huff. I sink into the sofa, clutch my tea and stare at the surface as though it might offer answers.

“I’m finding cold-turkey phone withdrawal really difficult.”

You need to get to grips with this psychic gift, House reminds me again—probably the hundredth time since I got home.

“I know, but I’m scared.”

You need to practise, she says gently. There are still a few hours before dark.

“What if I wander off again?”

I won’t let you. You recognise the visions now. You can learn to control them. I’ve got you, Fred; nothing will happen.

She’s right. If fate turns you into an undead seer, ignoring it can only make things worse. Besides, I always wanted to be special—here I am.

Yay.

Better to try now than spend the night brooding over the wedding or Valdarr and whatever he hissed at Jay.

“Okay.”

I set the mug aside, run upstairs, grab my phone and return. Baylor is noisily licking his flank as though it owes him money.

“All right, everyone can hear you. Haven’t you had enough of a bath for one day?”

He pauses to glare, then resumes.

“You will end up with a hairy tongue,” I mutter, unlocking the phone.

I reopen the site, settle in and start scrolling. Nothing happens. I’m too tense, too aware.

Relax, House urges. Trust me.

Trust her? I do, and I do not want the power hijacking my brain. I keep scrolling, keep watching.

Ten minutes later it starts: a prickle behind my eyes, a shimmer, the sensation of slipping sideways without moving. This time, I let it happen, but I do not fall too deeply. I skim the surface. I’m aware now, and that helps.

The magic doesn’t seize me, it flows, and I let the vision take me.