Page 29 of The Fang Arrangement (Celestial Witches #2)

“ T his is pathetic,” Oz says, as we roam around the World Fair.

People are elbow to elbow pushing through the different spectacles, some completely despicable while others are rather fascinating.

“I think I’ll find myself a companion for the night. Maybe find one worth keeping for a few more weeks while we’re here. What are you thinking? I know you enjoy the redheads. I’m sure we can find you one here,” Oz goes on.

I sigh, waving a hand at him. “I’ll catch up with you later tonight.”

Oz glares at me, irritated with my mood, irritated that I no longer view him as the second coming of Christ. The steel wool has been removed from my eyes and I see him for who he truly is now. He’s still powerful, made me rich, gave me eternal life, yet, I still feel listless.

I thought that when I had the money, the influence, that I’d have everything.

I’d be content. Don’t get me wrong, I love all of those things, but the cost was higher than I realized it would be.

I had to cut ties with my Ma. She thinks I’m missing, or dead.

The sun is an enigma now; the moon is my only constant.

There’s also this rigid codependency Oz has to me, like I’m his reason and I can’t stand it. He released me from the sire bond, saying it was archaic, but I’m still under his thumb. I think he likes knowing he controls me without the sire bond, because truly I have no other options.

Follow Oz, or he’ll kill me himself—those are my two options.

Sometimes I wonder if things would be different if I were out on my own, if I could join a new nest and make my own way, maybe things wouldn’t be so morose.

But Oz won’t allow it. He’s directly told me that my allegiance belongs to him.

If I detract from him, vampire council be damned, he’d chain me to a pillar and let me burn in the sun.

Oz digs in his back pocket, pulling out a few crisp bills and handing them to me, like I didn’t earn this money outright.

“Be good,” he says, pointing at me and turning his back.

We’ve made more money than we could ever imagine bringing moonshine and authentic bayou gin to the city of Chicago. They have their own nests of vampires, but Oz is older and reigns over the entire eastern half of the country.

There’s nothing truly bad for me to get into. If I thought about stepping out of line, any vampire would go tattle right to Oz.

I just need a moment to catch my breath. I need something that is mine.

At least I have a few moments to myself. I’m not hungry, we gorged ourselves on those cocktail waitresses last night and then compelled them not to remember.

Life as a vampire is full of overindulgence. Anything I want, I can have it with a single word slipping out of my lips, yet something is missing and I don’t know what it is.

The fair is boasting, a small child is shoving his face with Cracker Jacks and I almost wish I could taste the sweet treat. I don’t particularly miss food or crave it, but I miss some of my humanity.

I can feel myself losing it, with no direction on how to get it back, or if that’s even possible.

Life as a vampire is different, and I need to accept my new normal.

A pink tent stands in the distance, glittering lights covering the outside. The word ‘Fortune’ is embroidered in gold and something beckons me to the tent.

Surely it’s some human making a quick buck off the insecurity of mortals. Who wouldn’t want to know what their future holds? Even I, an immortal being, wants to know what awaits me in this exceptionally long life.

I approach the tent and cautiously look around, making sure no vampires are watching as the silk fans my fingertips as I pull it back. The moment I do, an earth-shattering headache wrecks my brain. My hands come up to my head and I want to scream but can’t.

“What are you doing in my tent, vampire?” a voice asks, the headache subsiding for a blissful moment.

Definitely not a human. When I glance up at the slender woman with short dark hair, she glares at me, her wand in her hand.

Vampires don’t fuck with witches, and I just strolled into this one’s tent.

“Here I thought I was going to have my fortune read,” I groan, giving the woman a smile.

She rolls her eyes.

“Vampires aren’t welcome here,” she says, giving me her back, unafraid as she sits back down at her crystal ball.

For some stupid reason, maybe to fucking feel something, I sit down across from her.

“Is the crystal ball all for show? Or does it actually do something?” I ask.

The witch lights her cigarette with magic, the cigarette holder floating in the air as she takes a huff, smoke flowing out of the side of her mouth.

“For show. Do you need to be told more aggressively to get the fuck out?” she says, another unbothered huff of her cigarette.

“Tell me my fortune and I’ll leave.”

“How does one tell the fortune of someone without a soul? Without a heartbeat? What is the fate of the dead?” she says, shuffling tarot cards with her hands, always keeping eye contact with me, her wand in immediate reach.

“Surely I still have a soul?” I ask, unsure.

Her inhale of her cigarette is dramatic, her dark eyes on me.

“Nothing I’ve seen of vampires proves otherwise. Always willing to hurt whoever you need to in order to get what you want. Why would I do anything for you?”

“Because I’m a paying customer?”

She arches an eyebrow and I place a substantial amount of cash on the counter, probably more than she makes in a week at the fair. She clicks her tongue and nods.

“What do you want to know, vampire?”

“Is there something more worth living for?” I ask, being completely blunt.

She shuffles her cards, shifting them between her two hands.

“The price has gone up,” she says. “A vial of your blood, some of it needed for the spell.”

“What will you do with it?” I question.

“Hmm. I don’t see how that’s any of your business, pay the fee or fuck off.”

I bite my wrist, a goblet floats in the air, ready to collect my blood. When she’s satisfied with the amount, she dips her wand into my blood before bringing it to her mouth.

The result is instantaneous as her head flings back, her eyes going white for a long moment, and she takes a deep inhale. She’s back to normal quickly, a small cackle leaving her lips as she shakes her head.

“I’d heard the rumors that vampires could have mates, but I didn’t think them true. I always assumed you all fucked and ravaged, never forming true bonds beyond perhaps your sire,” she says.

Her hand picks up a glass of liquor and I wonder if it’s something we imported for the fair. She holds it up and inspects the glass.

“You know you’ll need to find a new business with prohibition being lifted.”

“What were you saying about mates?” I ask, leaning forward. I’ve never loved anyone besides my ma. The concept sounds unbelievable.

“Some more gin and I’ll tell you.”

“Whatever you want,” I reply.

She smirks and I wonder if she’s fucking with me, if I’m just another fool sliding into her tent and she tells them what they want to hear.

“It’s more common with wolves, a person who is destined to be theirs, a fate you can not outrun.

You could have feelings for another, but nothing as strong as your mate.

They are perfect for you in every way. The wolves are born with this knowledge, but it seems it’s become less common with vampires, maybe it has to do with the growing population or perhaps tension within the supernatural community. You’re rather hated, you know?”

“Well aware,” I say sharply.

She smirks, lighting a new cigarette. “A blood mate is another supernatural destined for you. Their blood will call to you like no other and your blood will affect them exponentially. It will heal them faster, ruffle their desire for you. Just as their blood calls to you, the same to them.”

“And you see one in my future?” I urge.

“Hmm. Unsure. I think more money would help.”

I throw down all the money in my wallet on the table, and she nods happily.

“She is magical, fire, sugar, and flowers. Though it’s uncertain that she will ever be yours, only that she is your blood mate, you’ll have a very long road ahead of you to make that happen.”

“When will I meet her? Soon? Where? What does she look like?”

She takes a deep inhale, her head flaring back again. Her heart rate is skyrocketing, and her breathing is heavy when she looks back up at me. Her face is resolved, saddened but resolved.

“I will tell you her name, but in return I need you to make an unbreakable vow to me,” she says, her eyes watering as she takes a shaky inhale of her cigarette and downs the rest of her liquor.

“What vow?”

“Here I thought someone robbing me for my ring was a good enough reason to not wear it today. Lot’s of unsavory types in the city at a fair so big. I should have known better.” She laughs with a sarcastic sigh.

“I need you to preserve my grimoires, save them for your blood mate, but do not destroy them. And you must promise that you won’t let your sire seek retribution against my coven.”

My brows furrow as I look at the witch.

“Vow it,” she says with a trembling voice, holding out her hand.

I take her hand in mine and nod. “I vow it.”

“They’re in the Greyhound bus, fifth seat back.”

“Why do I need to preserve anything? What’s her name?”

“Because I let a fucking vampire into my tent. Her name’s Em?—”

Before she can finish her sentence, Oz is behind her, his teeth in her throat before he snaps her neck. Her blood is dripping down his chin, covering his white shirt as he drops her body on the floor with a thud.

“Naughty, naughty, Warin,” he says, taking the goblet of blood she collected and drinking down my blood, something I’d never willingly do with him. Vampires exchange blood, but it’s usually done in a sexual nature.

“You gave this filthy little witch your blood, while you wouldn’t even dare give it to me? Did she trick your young mind? Did she promise you something?”

I blink wildly, like I’m confused.

“I…I don’t remember,” I say and Oz clicks his tongues.

“Old witches like this are disgusting. It’s important that we stick to our own, that we stick to our nest,” he says calmly, placing a bloody palm on my face. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you out of my sight tonight. Sometimes I forget how young you are. Come, let us retire for the night.”

I look down at the witch’s body; I didn’t even know her name, yet a deep sense of regret fills me. She’s dead because of my curiosity. Oz killed her simply because she was a witch and I gave her my blood.

“Warin. Now,” Oz grates out, and I stand up, looking down at her listless body, knowing I’ll need to sneak out later tonight.

Oz is like a warden as we sit in the basement of the humans he compelled. It’s then that I have an idea, a way that I don’t even have to leave the house to get what I want.

I have to wait until the sun rises. Oz is asleep. He rests more than a typical vampire, and I wonder if that’s how he’s continued to stay in power. The ones who don’t sleep tend to spiral into madness.

It’s dangerous as I walk up the cellar stairs, slowly creaking the door open. A beam of sunlight slips through and I’m careful to not open it any further.

“Clarissa, come here,” I whisper.

She’s an affluent woman, Oz wouldn’t let us stay in a home anything less than expensive.

The human woman comes to the door, her face through the crack, her pupils wide.

“Yes?”

“I need you to retrieve something for me and for your family to keep it safe until I get it, no matter how long that may be.”

“What do you need me to get?” she asks robotically.

I look down the steps, assuring that Oz is still asleep as I tell her where to find the grimoires, where to get a safety deposit box, and the information she needs to pass down for each generation.

Over ninety years pass before I collect the grimoires on the day Oz is found dead from Clarissa’s great-granddaughter.