Page 8 of Vampire so Virtuous (Boston Vampires #1)

“I got you one of those raspberry pastries.”

Cally set the tray down on their table, careful not to spill the lattes. No waitress today, but the queue at the counter had been short.

“I love these things,” Eve said, taking the plate before the tray had even come to a complete rest. “My one indulgence in life.”

“Uh-huh? What about the tubs of Ben & Jerry’s? The legal weed vape pens? The sorrowful number of wine bottles going in full and coming out empty?”

“Those are necessities, not indulgences.”

Cally dropped into the seat opposite her. “That actually makes a lot of sense. I’ve been looking at it all wrong.”

“So,” Eve said, licking powdered sugar off her fingertips. “Are you pregnant?”

Cally stared at her in disbelief, almost spilling the latte she’d picked up. “ What? ”

“You sounded serious in your text messages.”

Her disbelief shifted to bewilderment. “How did you get that from ‘let’s do coffee’ and an emoji?”

“It’s Monday,” Eve replied simply. “We never do coffee on a Monday.” She took a bite of flaky filo pastry with macerated raspberry, and spoke around it. “Figured you were pregnant.”

“We met like three days ago, and you asked me then too. Funnily enough, still not pregnant.”

“Oh yeah, forgot.” Eve offered a ditzy smile, all the more frustrating because Cally knew how intelligent she really was. “So, what’s so serious that we’re ‘working from home’ here this morning?”

Cally winced. Why had she decided to have this conversation at their favorite hipster coffee shop? She glanced at the couple next to them. The gaps between tables were so small, they were practically sitting side-by-side.

But she’d spent the entire previous day obsessing over the vision—how vivid, how real it had felt, and the presence that lingered behind the doors. What would have happened if Eve hadn’t woken her when she did?

Eve took a slurp of her latte while she waited for Cally to reply, washing down the last of the pastry that had disappeared in record time. How she never seemed to put on weight, Cally didn’t know.

“Well,” Cally began hesitantly, “the, uh”—she looked again at the couple beside them, and lowered her voice further—“ stuff we do at Zara’s.”

“Mmm hmm?” Eve was trying to lick latte foam off her top lip, going slightly cross-eyed in the process.

Cally stared at her friend, then shook her head in mock despair. “Would you like a tissue?”

“No, I’m good. You were saying?”

“Um, yeah. So the stuff we do. If… um.” This is a ridiculous conversation. What was I thinking? She took another sip of coffee, eyes darting to the window, hoping Eve was too foam-distracted to have really been listening.

“If what?”

Damn. “Don’t worry.”

“No, go on. You can ask me, right?” Eve gave her doe eyes, the kind that said, you’re-not-about-to-forget-who-your-best-friend-is-are-you?

Cally winced, deciding it was best to get it out there. “All right. Say one of us did have some stuff within them. Is that like… Does it come from”—another glance to her left, and she mouthed the word ‘spells’—“or is it inherited?”

“Stuff as in”—Eve joined in, mouthing ‘magic’—“stuff?”

“Yeah.”

“You mean, is the magic that powers our spells in your blood?”

Cally leaned forward urgently, hissing, “ Eve! ”

“What?” She waved a hand. “No one around here cares.”

Cally was convinced that if she had high blood pressure by the time she hit thirty, Eve would be solely to blame. “Whatever,” she said. “Yes, is the magic in our blood?”

Eve gave her a look. “ Your blood. You really think Zara has a single mystic bone in her body? Or that Lily sees revenge spells as anything but a cheap alternative to therapy?”

“All right. Hypothetically… my blood.”

“I’ve been wondering when you’d ask me.” Eve took another sip of coffee, then gave a firm, “Yes.”

Cally waited, but it didn’t look like more was forthcoming. “That’s it? ‘ Yes?’”

“Yes.”

“Just yes?”

“Hell yeah. Affirmative. Ten-four. It’s all you, babe. Hundred percent. It’s in your blood. Yes. Amen.”

“Got it,” Cally muttered.

Eve raised an eyebrow. “Did you have any doubts?”

Plenty . “Why did you even invite me to join the group?”

“How long have we known each other?” Eve asked simply.

“Third grade.”

“And how long have you been weird?”

Cally blinked. “Er… since never?”

Eve reached across the table and patted her hand condescendingly. “Of course, dear.”

“You’re weirder.”

“Never denied it. And to answer your question, I found this group for us because of you . I wanted to see, well, if what happened might happen.”

“Wait, really?” Cally stared at her. “You never said.”

“Would you have come if I had?”

“Fair point.”

“You’re the world’s biggest skeptic.”

“Am not.” Possibly true.

“You know I’ve had an interest in the occult for a while.”

“Obviously,” Cally said dryly, waving at Eve’s all-black attire to emphasize her point.

Even when they were growing up, Eve’s bedroom looked like death and darkness had a baby, no pink in sight.

She went full-goth for a few years, but now her hair was back to its natural auburn color, and Cally had to admit her black clothing set it off well.

“I’ve been reading up on you.”

“On me? What does that even mean? I don’t have a Wikipedia page, do I?”

“On the stuff you do. Like when you predicted Chuck falling out of the tree on campus.”

Cally gave her an incredulous look. “That wasn’t magic, it was obvious. He was wasted.”

“The death of our dog?”

“She was sixteen!”

“The lights flickering when you were in a bad mood.”

“I was trying to read,” Cally said with strained patience. “Your brother kept turning them on and off. Of course I’d get grumpy.”

“What about all the other times?”

“I don’t remember any other times.”

“My parents divorce?”

“What about it?”

“You said they would.”

“They were arguing for weeks.” Cally shook her head. “There’s nothing weird about any of that.”

“Epigenetics and ancestral memory,” Eve announced, taking a sip of her coffee as though she’d explained everything.

“Come again?”

“You’ve heard the theory that the trauma of the Salem witch trials imprinted stress on the survivor’s offspring?”

“Uh, no?”

“Later generations are more prone to extraordinary abilities. Hyper-awareness, extreme intuition, and pattern recognition.”

“All right,” Cally said. “With complete respect for you and our friendship, that’s bullshit . Complete and utter baloney .”

“Survivorship bias in historical bloodlines?”

“What?”

“Your ancestors survived the trials by virtue of their magical traits.”

“That’s a completely different argument! You’re making this shit up!”

“They’re academically sound theories.”

“For what? My complete lack of ability to throw fireballs around or fly on a broomstick?”

Eve toyed with her cup. “You ever tried?”

Cally stared at her in disbelief.

Eve’s impassive expression held for a breath, before cracking into humor.

Cally laughed in relief. “You’re teasing me. Thank God. For a while there, I thought you were serious.”

“Fireballs and flying? Not so much. But witch magic? Sure.”

“You mean it, don’t you?”

“Sweetheart, how else do you explain what you do?”

“I don’t do anything.” She made air quotes to emphasize the word. “And this conversation is too weird for me.” Eve could be intense, but Cally loved her dearly. She’d never get up and leave. Even if this time, it was tempting.

Still, she’d started it. Why did I start this?

“Fine. What’s your theory, miss I-blacked-out-and-had-a-vision-for- five-minutes? And don’t tell me you saw ‘nothing.’ I’m not Lily.”

Oh yeah, that was why.

Cally hesitated, all her arguments faltering in the face of the undeniable magic of her dream.

“I don’t have any theories,” she said quietly, looking away from Eve to glance out of the window. “So it’s literally in my blood?”

“Maternal side, obviously. Being, you know”—she mouthed ‘witches’ with a hint of mischief—“and all.”

“So my mom ?” Cally’s voice dropped a little, a hint of vulnerability rising inside her. “That’s ironic.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Eve said quickly. “Could be your Nana.”

“She’s dead, too.”

“Or your great-great-great-Nana for that matter. She’s not alive, is she? Maybe it’s recessive genes, skipping generations.”

Cally could only stare at her more. “How the hell do you know all this?”

“I read,” Eve said dryly. “And not the trash you read.”

“Nothing wrong with trash. Escapism is healthy.” She gave a huff. “I don’t know, Eve. That vision was likely a one-off. One weird thing doesn’t mean I’m some mystical prodigy. It’s random crap. I don’t have a magic bloodline.”

Eve looked skeptical. “All right. So what was in your vision?”

Cally winced. “I’ll tell you if you promise not to freak out, okay?”

Eve’s eyes widened, her voice a whisper. “You saw my death?”

“What? No!” Cally jerked her head back. “Girl, you really need to get your brain rewired.” She hurried on before Eve could say something even weirder. “It was like some out-of-body experience, but I was flying through a nightclub.”

“Why did you think I’d freak out about that?”

“I expected you to jump up and shout ‘translocation’ or ‘astral projection’ or something.”

“Ethereal sight?”

“What?”

“Just kidding. It wasn’t any of those,” Eve said matter-of-factly. “Foresight spell, remember? You were seeing the future.”

“The future is a nightclub?” she said dryly. And the evil, emanating presence. But she wasn’t ready to share that yet.

“There’s an allegory there somewhere. Society and culture, maybe,” Eve mused. “Or how about temptation and corruption.” She warmed to her theme. “Moral decline and hedonism! ”

“Having a conversation with you is sometimes a little like dropping acid.”

“Which you’ve never done, so you wouldn’t know.”

“You make it easy to imagine,” Cally said, deadpan. But it really did feel as if the whole conversation was some kind of hallucination. Magic? Mystical bloodlines? If it wasn’t for the whole nightclub vision thing, she would dismiss it all.

Especially the memory of that shadowy aura, reaching out for her.

Cally suppressed a shiver. She couldn’t shake the sense it was tied into her nightmares, even though they were separate.

What was happening to her?

“You know what you should do?” Eve asked.

“Dare I ask?” But she’d take any offered branch right now.

“You should go talk to your dad.” Eve suggested. “Maybe there’s some answers at home?”

Cally looked out of the window, thinking. She was long overdue a visit, but life had got in the way.

No. That was a poor excuse. Her dad had always been there for her, and she’d allowed herself to put him on a back burner. How had that happened?

“You know, that’s actually not a bad idea.”

And while she was there, maybe she could explore the bloodline thing. Put that theory to bed.

Her Mom? A witch? The idea was laughable.