Page 6 of Vampire so Virtuous (Boston Vampires #1)

Boston, Massachusetts, Present day.

“—So I said, ‘At least I know what size pencil to use.’”

There was a burst of giggling. Cally gave a weak smile, having totally zoned out during Zara’s story. She was lost in the smell of incense mingling with candle smoke, her mind on her training regime.

“He is handsome, though,” Priya commented wistfully from her spot in the circle beside Zara. Cally glanced at her, surprised she knew who Zara was referring to.

Right, they both work in the same office.

“Oh, I’ll totally fuck him,” Zara said nonchalantly, brushing back a strand of blonde hair with two fingers. “But only after he’s taken me out for an expensive meal or two.”

Cally snuck in an eyeroll while Priya frowned at the carpet. Zara, fishing for praise from Eve, didn’t seem to notice.

“Spell suggestions for tonight, gang?” Eve asked, making an obvious effort to steer the conversation back on track.

She wasn’t here for idle chatter, but for the mystique of it all—and it showed in her choice of jeans and a tight sweater, both in her usual black.

In contrast, the others favored dresses, more suited for a social gathering than an evening with the occult.

Cally had come straight from the dojang in her jeans and hoodie, and was here mostly because Eve had insisted.

Though that wasn’t entirely fair; she liked the others too. Some of the time.

“My revenge spell?” Lily asked hopefully.

“Throw all the ideas in, but it’s Cally’s turn to choose,” Eve said, casting a quick look at her.

“Oh, whatever you guys want,” Cally replied, though she silently hoped it wouldn’t be another vengeance spell.

The idea held no appeal, especially since she didn’t agree Lily’s neighbor deserved such an honor.

Subtly shifting her weight, she tried to ease the strain on her hips and knees.

Sitting cross-legged for so long was taxing, especially right after a session.

Would it kill Zara to buy some more cushions ?

She eyed the couch wistfully. With that and both armchairs, there was enough seating for all of them, yet they always sat on the floor. Apparently, one had to suffer for the occult.

“Ooh! We could do a love spell for you!” Priya clapped her hands enthusiastically.

“No, thank you.” Cally shut that one down fast, smiling to soften the blow. Every group had a hopeless romantic, and Priya was theirs.

“If there are no better ideas,” Zara said haughtily, “we could do a foresight spell.”

Lily gave an exasperated huff, quiet enough to not draw Zara’s ire.

“Cally’s choice,” Eve said firmly.

All eyes swung her way, and Cally bit back a groan. Why did I ever let Eve talk me into this?

She stiffly unfolded one leg and made to rise. “I’m pretty beat. If you don’t mind, I think I’m going to turn in early and let you all—”

“Don’t you dare , Calista Davis,” Eve said sharply.

Cally hesitated, glancing at her in surprise.

Eve grimaced. “Sorry, babe. But please? For me? Nothing ever works without you here.”

Okay, so that was an exaggeration—though the lack of objection from the others implied they agreed.

It was true there had been one time when the crystals had caught the candlelight so much they seemed to glow, which had been really weird. That had been during a spell for Lily’s curse on her ex. To her and Zara’s delight, the next day he’d fallen off his ladder and broken his leg.

Then there’d been the Ouija board incident, when the planchette had seemingly moved by itself on Cally’s turn.

She’d been going for ‘money’ to tease Eve, but after the first two letters, it had pulled sharply back across the board.

Whenever Zara got out the Tarot cards, Cally seemed to end up with the High Priestess and the Magician.

‘Every time,’ Eve said with smug satisfaction, though Cally was certain she rigged the deck to make her feel more involved.

Besides, they’d done plenty of ‘spells,’ and the most exciting result had been her clothes reeking of incense on the way home.

Nothing ever works without me here? Nothing ever works, period.

It was like Eve thought magic was real, which was both cute and slightly aggravating.

She slumped back onto her ass. “Okay, but can we make it quick? I’m sorry, everyone, but I’ve had one hell of a day. ”

“You still need to choose,” Zara said, then shot Eve an irritated look like it was her fault. That wasn’t fair at all.

“Fine,” Cally said coolly. “Foresight, then.”

Zara’s smile was too quick and lacked depth. “Good choice. I’m sure it won’t take longer than an hour or two.” Cally muffled a groan. “Ladies, your pins, please.”

There was a flurry of activity as they all drew needles from various pockets, unwrapped from silk or pulled from cushions.

“Do we have to do this every time?” Cally asked, feeling awkward. The blood thing was a bit further than she wanted to go, not least because—apparently—it had started because of her. “I haven’t brought mine.”

The one time the crystals had lit up, Eve had claimed Cally had a cut on her hand, but not until days later when Cally couldn’t remember.

But she clearly recalled stabbing her finger on a splinter from Zara’s old Ouija board, because it slid beneath her nail and hurt like hell.

Yet from that point on, Eve had pushed quite hard to bring blood into their spellwork, and to Cally’s dismay, the others had agreed far too easily.

“We don’t do it every time,” Zara said, her tone tart, “but we are doing it tonight.”

“I have a spare,” Eve said, passing Cally a needle in a plastic bag, then whispered, “It’s sterile.”

Cally swallowed a sigh as she fished it out and pricked her fingertip, squeezing it to make a drop of blood appear. Feeling foolish, she wiped it across her polished obsidian—which, this week, she’d remembered to bring.

“Crystals, please, ladies,” Zara instructed.

Obsidian wasn’t a crystal, of course, but Cally hadn’t mentioned it again after the cool response the first time.

They all held them out, arms extended into the center of their circle, the gleaming black stones catching the candlelight.

There was a gentle clink as Cally touched hers between Eve’s and Lily’s.

“Eve, are we using your spell?”

“Of course, Zara, thank you.” Eve cleared her throat, affecting a solemn air. “Focus, please, gang. We wish to know what the future brings.”

Across the circle, Zara and Priya closed their eyes, and Cally quickly followed. Eve began the spell she’d shared with them.

“By the moon’s gentle glow and the stars above,

In this sacred circle where all are beloved,

We align as one, in this mystic hour,

To seek insights the future empowers. ”

To Eve’s left, Zara spoke in the mystical voice she reserved for such times.

“With elements aligned and energies clear,

Grant us visions: make the path appear.”

In contrast, Priya’s words came as a nervous mumble.

“As we weave our words in this mystic rite,

Grant us glimpses of the coming light.”

From beside Cally, Lily took her turn.

“Ancestors’ whispers, spirits near,

Share with us what we need to hear.”

Cally had learned the lines Eve had prepared, but it had been before their session two weeks ago, and then they’d done a finding spell instead.

“With blood and trust, we now decree,

Um, foresight revealed for us to see?”

She kept her eyes closed, expecting Eve to finish the spell, but nothing came. Wasn’t there supposed to be a ‘so mote it be’ by now? She frowned as the silence lengthened, then went to sneak a glance at her friend.

But her eyes wouldn’t open. Instead, a light appeared against the darkness of her closed lids, growing rapidly, spinning as though it were coming toward her.

Then it enveloped her, surrounding her, and it was no longer a light but a whole room.

Cally blinked in surprise, looking around.

She wasn’t in Zara’s apartment anymore. She was at a concert, with a crowd moving beneath her to the beat of loud, thumping music, beams of multi-colored lights shooting from the ceiling and walls.

She was floating in the air above them, looking down, seeing it all as if she were really there.

Which was freaky.

What the hell? I’m hallucinating?

It wasn’t a concert; it was a nightclub, the floor packed with writhing, dancing bodies. Ripped jeans, cropped tops, hands wandering, drinks being spilled. The sweet smell of weed drifted through the hazy air, over the acrid bite of a fog machine and the stench of sweat and too many bodies.

This is too damn real.

She noticed more with each passing second: a bar, light fixtures, a red exit sign above a door.

A way out?

At the thought, her body moved through the room, as if flying.

It was pretty cool, in a weird, lucid-dreaming kind of way.

She tried to see if she could control it as she spun-flew in mid-air around a bank of swiveling spotlights suspended from the ceiling.

Dust and cobwebs clung to each light, and ‘Rig 3’ was written on the truss in faded yellow marker.

That was disconcerting. Far too much detail for a dream.

She flew over hundreds of people, unnoticed. No one pointed or shouted, though she was certain she’d met enough eyes to be seen.

Did that prove it wasn’t a dream, that it wasn’t real?

How could it be, anyway?

But it was all so vivid, like she was really there. She could focus on whatever she wished—the clothing of the dancers, the drinks in their hands. A couple, arguing in a corner. The barman, holding out a card machine with the green glow of its screen.

Had Zara spiked her drink? Was this some kind of prank? Why hadn’t Eve warned her?

It had been mere seconds since she’d arrived , if that were the right word. Then, as abruptly as it had begun, it was over, and she was falling.

No, it wasn’t over, and the floor was coming up fast.

Instinctively, Cally covered her head, bracing for an impact she couldn’t avoid.

But no impact came. She should’ve crashed into the churn of dancers, but instead, she blurred through them—flesh and fabric.

Then was she inside the floor? Artificial grays and blacks of vinyl, concrete, and some kind of foam.

The music had faded to a dull thump, and she feared she’d be trapped, stuck in the floor of a nightclub in an impossible dream.

Until she emerged, wide-eyed, into a new space. The floor of the club was now the ceiling of the area she was in. Once again, she was mid-air. And still falling.

“Stop!” she screamed, but no sound came.

It was a room of some design—dark wood furniture and pictures on the walls, lavishly appointed—but she didn’t have time to take it all in before the floor came up again, and once more she was drifting through building materials, seeing them like a cross-section displayed in a museum exhibit.

A new space, and this time it wasn’t a room but a long corridor stretching on and on, as was the way of dreams. Strangely, it felt more familiar.

Tunnels in dreams she could accept, even if this was a first. Yet it wasn’t nebulous, but a real hallway with walls of brutalist concrete.

Several pipes ran along its length: one yellow, one red, one dull gray.

She flew along, faster than she could run, unable to control her movement.

Ahead, a large double door loomed, ornately designed and carved. A heavy chain lay across it, holding it closed. But as Cally approached, she sensed something from within, like a presence emanating from the room. The greatest threat lay behind the door.

She was still being drawn toward it, and fought to stop herself.

She tried to fly back, to control her movement in this dream, but nothing worked.

With each passing second, she drew closer.

The presence emanating from behind the door grew darker, more oppressive, until she was certain that the last thing she wanted was to see what lay within.

She was thirty feet away, unable to stop herself.

Twenty, and she couldn’t even look away.

Ten, and the chain holding the door shut shattered, bursting into pieces.

It was as if they were pushed from inside, as though something had been caged and was desperate to escape.

As Cally watched in horror, helplessly pulled toward them, the doors opened right before her.

And there was nothing but darkness.

*

“Cally! Cally, wake up! Fuck, fuck . Cally!”

She came to gradually, amidst the flickering orange glow of too many cheap candles. She was lying on the floor of Zara’s apartment, and embarrassingly, they were all crowding around her, their faces filled with alarm. Except Zara, who looked insufferably smug.

Eve was closest to her, kneeling beside her, her worry pulling at Cally’s heart.

Damn, it had felt so real.

She ran her fingers through the soft pile of the carpet, reassuring herself she was back in the real world. Her heart was still racing.

“I’m here. I’m sorry.” She tried to sit up, but Eve leaned over her for a fierce hug, effectively pinning her down.

“Damn it, Cally, you scared the hell out of me!” she said in her ear. “We couldn’t wake you!”

“I’m all right. Let me up, Eve.”

Eve sat back, giving Cally space to rise. Though her face still held concern, it was tempered with relief.

“You had a vision,” Zara declared from behind her, an almost academic air to her words. “The mystic energies in my apartment have always been significant.”

It was difficult to believe apartment 21A was more aligned to the occult than the others on this particular floor, but Cally was still reeling from her experience, and let the comment slide.

“What did you see, Cally?” Lily asked, eagerly leaning forward .

“Uh, nothing,” Cally said. “Just blacked out for a second.”

“Nothing?” Lily said, disappointed. “You were gone for so long.”

Cally looked at Eve. “How long was I out for?”

“About five minutes,” she replied, her words laced with relief. “We were about to call an ambulance.”

“No we weren’t,” Zara contradicted firmly. “You were breathing fine.”

But Cally ignored her, frowning. It had gone so fast it had felt like… a minute? Barely that.

“We were all so worried,” Priya blurted from Cally’s other side, her large brown eyes wide and glistening as she stared.

“ I wasn’t worried,” Zara thoughtfully clarified, in case anyone was in any doubt.

“I think I’ll go home, if you don’t mind,” Cally said, rising unsteadily.

Eve and Priya rose with her, offering support.

“I’ll walk you back,” Eve said, her concern returning.

“No need, I’m fine,” Cally said, feeling stronger with each passing second. Eve looked dubious, and Cally squeezed her hand. “I’m fine, honestly. I can look after myself. I’ll head home.”

“Are you sure?”

“Call you tomorrow, okay?”