Bloodstone (13 page)

A striking thought pelted my mind. Rather than stand by as a participant, I needed to return to my body. Otherwise, with no soul inside my body, I might not have enough will to return to life. I dived toward my body, and once my spirit locked into my body, I felt weak, tired. At the same time, I was determined to return to a physical state. I pushed and focused and sent every bit of energy through my limbs, forcing myself to awaken.

A moment before the Home Bar employee put the pads onto my chest, I took in a huge gust of breath and forced myself forward, which reminded me of an old movie where a vampire rose inside his casket in a stiff manner. If I had flat-lined, my heart wouldn’t have begun beating again because Brandon did CPR. My heart would have needed the electrical jolt the AED would have supplied.

Then I knew why my heart began pumping again. My soul left my body. Without the will to live, to fight in order to continue my existence, my body became nothing more than an empty shell. My spiritual absence had actively contributed to my near-death experience, and I could only attribute my return to the magical spark my spirit provided once it connected with my body.

“Thank God!” Brandon gasped. His arms drew inward, exhausted as he placed a palm over his eyes, taking quick breaths.

“Aunt Serena!” Celestina shouted, her tone both excited and frightened. No longer willing to remain an observer, she drew herself closer to me and curled an arm around my shoulder. “You’re bloody. Are you okay?”

My shoulder throbbed and sent streaks of pain through tributaries in my body. My head pounded, which made me squint, but I nodded. “I’m okay.”

“Should we call for an ambulance?” Brandon asked.

“I’m okay,” I told Celestina and tried to smile to allay her fears. I met Brandon’s gaze with a bright smile for reviving me. “I almost died a second time,” I said, trying to make light of the issue, despite feeling the exact opposite. “Three times a charm?”

Celestina’s expression folded into frustration, but she didn’t say a word. “That’s not funny.” More tears left her eyes.

“Thank you,” I said to Brandon. “Thanks for fixing me.”

“What happened?” Brandon asked Celestina. “Why didn’t you help her?”

I put a hand on his arm, intent to ask him to cut her some slack. “She’s been through enough.”

“No, I don’t think so.” He set his gaze on Celestina. “You sure as hell could have helped when I needed it. Healing her wound a few days ago proved as much.”

Celestina wiped the tears and turned around. Her back rose and fell as silent sobs racked her body. 

“Come on,” I said, “she’s had a tough few days.”

“And you haven’t?” he asked, unwilling to let the issue rest or remove his attention from Celestina. “You saved her before. Why not now? Is it because of the prophecy? You’re scared …Serena will kill your mother?”

“Brandon!” I shouted with an angry scowl. “That’s enough. Leave her alone.”

“Really?” he asked. Contours of frustration rippled across his forehead. “After you almost died?”

“Did it occur to you that she couldn’t help?” I asked. “She revived me and her grandmother because we’d died at the hands of magic. Werewolves attacked me, but I didn’t die because—”

“Wait…werewolves?” His eyes grew wide and he pushed backwards as though my shocking announcement thrust him in the opposite direction. “I figured they’d make an appearance at some point, but there was more than one of them?”

“Yes. There were four of them.”

“Werewolves were created by magic,” he countered. “So why couldn’t Celestina heal your shoulder?”

“That’s true, but the werewolf bite didn’t cause me my heart to stop. I left my body and visited her to get her to help me while you were with…” Recalling that Celestina was nearby, I stopped talking before revealing that Brandon had been with Alexis for a short period of time, something I didn’t even want to think about, let alone bring up in the future. “My heart stopped because my soul wasn’t there to fight to stay alive.”

Brandon gave that some thought and simmered down. “I’m sorry. You scared the hell out of me, and I was upset that she didn’t want to help when I’d seen her do it before.” He slanted his head to the side in hopes that Celestina would meet his gaze. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“It’s okay,” she said in a timid tone, although she wouldn’t look his way.

Celestina had suffered so much verbal abuse that even though I’d just returned to life, I found myself worrying about my niece, rather than myself. “Your mom didn’t let you tag along, did she?”

“No.” She glared at Brandon. “Why didn’t you stick up for me when I said I wanted to come?”

Brandon scoffed. “I’m your friend. She’s your mom. The scale tips in her favor.”

Upon hearing that he considered her a friend, Celestina’s glare melted away. “Makes sense, I guess.” Her face wrinkled with confusion. “A group of werewolves attacked you. Did they know how to find you because they were created by magic?”

I met my niece’s stare. “Your mom, she played a part in—”

“What?” she asked with a terrified expression and jolted backwards and up to her feet. She shook her head, resisting the truth. “Don’t say that. Mom wouldn’t—”

“Zephora sent them. Your mother…” I cut my sentence short, knowing that if I placed the full blame on Alexis, my niece would find it difficult to think clearly. “She followed through. I barely escaped.”

Celestina gave me a sidelong stare. “Mom wouldn’t—”

“Have I ever lied to you?” I asked.

She stared at her shoes. “No, but I can’t believe that. Sisters don’t–”

“Your mother wants more power. We both know that. She’ll do whatever it takes to get it.”

A pang of agony hit my shoulder and I grimaced. Within a moment, I felt weak, dizzy. A frigid chill passed over me. I looked up at Celestina. “When did it get so cold in here?” I tried to wrap my arms across my chest, but pain spread from my shoulder and up my neck. “I feel…so woozy.”

“What’s happening?” asked Brandon.

I looked at my shoulder, and blood still oozed from my wound.

“Werewolves did that?” asked Celestina. Her lips trembled, and her hands vibrated to the same frequency.

“Fuck this,” Brandon said and pulled out his phone. “I’m calling the paramedics. They’ll probably get here in a few minutes. They can monitor you and figure out what’s going on?”

“I don’t think so,” I said as my energy left me quicker than I thought possible. “So tired.” I fought to keep my eyelids open, but when I did, I focused on Celestina. “I’m proud of you, Celie.” A goofy grin appeared on my face. “You’re strong and smart. Just as important? You’ve got a good heart.” I nodded and when my eyes shut, I looked forward to having another moment to rest. “That’s the most important thing.” A second later, I felt small fingers grab my left arm, shaking me, but I luxuriated in the bliss of darkness falling over me.

“Aunt Serena!” Celestina murmured from what felt like she’d stood at the opposite end of a tunnel. “Don’t go. Don’t leave me!”

Sensing that if I remained inside my body if it moved past the Earthly realm, I’d be trapped and unable to move about this world, I detached from my body. Oddly enough, it was the exact opposite reason I’d separated from my body a short time ago. So what encouraged me to leave my body?

Celestina shook me, her eyes once more glassy with tears. “Aunt Serena? Don’t die! Don’t leave me!”

Just as Brandon planned to hit the first key on his phone, he saw my body stop breathing. “Shit!” He dropped the phone to administer CPR once again.

Frightened my body would fail, this time I sensed that returning to it might not result in reawakening, and since I didn’t want to watch my body gasp its final breath, I looked around, sensing a presence I couldn’t quite identify. I caught movement in the doorway and saw the employee that Celestina had returned with only moments ago.

The pale, potbellied man with the bushy mustache cracked a slight smile and raced away from the door faster than humanly possible.

His little grin gesture informed me that he could see my spirit. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have acknowledged my presence. So far, only Zephora and Celestina had seen me while astral projecting. So how had he accomplished that when so few others could do likewise?

Ordinarily, I would have returned to my body, but I knew the human mind could withstand a loss of brain activity for up to five minutes before it began losing integral mind functions. Remaining outside my body was a risky endeavor, but I got the impression this man would continue to provoke me if I didn’t follow him. Or maybe that’s what he wanted me to believe. Torn between two options, I made the impulsive decision to track him down.

I swept from the room, sped down the hall, and hurried back to the main room.

Nolan stood in front of the microphone, staring at the crowd with trepidation. “Sorry, everybody.” Perplexed, he shook his head. A second later, a bottle flew toward his head, and he ducked before it smashed against a framed photo of the hockey player, Patrick Kane, which rattled but didn’t fall to the ground. Nolan stood tall with a furious expression that made it clear he wouldn’t allow another rude gesture. “Hey, chill the fuck out! Give us a minute to straighten this out, okay? We’ll be right back!”

There was the willful, passionate guitar player I’d known! I smiled at the forcefulness in his voice. I scanned the room for the potbellied man. I didn’t see him anywhere. I lifted myself a few feet off the ground and scanned the room. No one rushed from the floor and headed towards the exit. Distressed that I couldn’t locate the mystery man, I peered through the windows, but didn’t see anyone or any vehicles tearing out of the parking lot. In all likelihood, he hadn’t left the bar. I examined every face before me in hopes of finding him.

Nolan glanced in my direction with a perplexed look, as though sensing an unexpected presence, but unsure how to relate to it, he addressed those in attendance. “I’m sorry, but—”

“Hey, asshole!” a man shouted from about eight or nine rows back. “What the hell was that? Who was that bitch? Then your drummer took off? What the fuck, man?”

Nolan collected his composure, although it looked as though it took plenty of fortitude to do so. “I don’t know what happened. It was some kind of mistake. Give me a couple minutes, and we’ll be back out here, okay?” He surveyed the spectators. “Can you give us a few?”

The crowd, full of rolling eyes and shaking heads, grumbled to one another but settled down.

Just as Nolan spun around, prepared to head down the hall in search of me (or rather, Alexis), another bottle soared through the air and slammed against the back wall, startling Nolan and Kendall, who both ducked a second after hearing the crashing bottle.

A moment later, Nolan rushed back to the microphone. Heat vibrated off his flesh. Fury shimmered in his eyes. He pointed at those before him. “Knock that shit off, goddammit!”

The unruly spectators that had rebelled against Alexis’s behavior now stood still. They lowered their arms, shut their mouths, and waited with dazed stares.

Nolan held his arms out at his sides as though unsure why they’d risen. He placed his mouth beside the mic. “I’m really sorry about tonight.”

The crowd, as though under some type of collective hallucinogen, stared at him with understanding, no longer hostile but accepting of whatever had occurred.

What had just happened? What convinced the spectators to abandon their anger and frustration in favor of a more receptive demeanor? The change was too abrupt, too unexpected to have occurred under ordinary circumstances. Something, or more likely,
someone
had somehow managed to brainwash the crowd. Since Nolan addressed them and they responded by awaiting further instruction, he must have tapped into an, until now, unknown ability to brainwash the masses on a wide scale. I could understand compelling a handful of individuals, but Nolan must have some serious magical ability to brainwash over one-hundred and fifty people!

“If you can wait a few minutes,” Nolan told them. “I’ll go find out what’s going on.”

Still unable to identify the mystery man, I wondered if the man was a shapeshifter. That made perfect sense until I questioned how he could have manipulated me to leave my body…when I’d learned only minutes before that doing so could result in my death. I thought back to the moment the man entered the storage closet ahead of Celestina. Then I realized something: Celestina appeared to see him, but Brandon didn’t acknowledge his existence.

No human could rush out of the building so quickly with me hot on his trail, only to vanish without catching my attention. If he was a vampire, he would have had to knock people out of the way, causing a disruption, but that hadn’t happened. Perhaps he was a demon. For all I knew, each demon had different abilities. Unlike Nolan, I doubted all demons needed to get a power boost by touching an individual with supernatural powers. The potbellied man may have been a different type of demon, but demons had to reveal themselves by flashing their eyes black. That hadn’t happened.

The more I thought about how only Celestina and I had seen him and how he’d vanished so quickly, the more I suspected that…the man wasn’t a man at all, nor was he a paranormal creature. There was only one explanation. He was a ghost!

CHAPTER TWELVE

Who had the ability to contact a ghost? My mother. Who else? Zephora. And her aptitude to contact and command every paranormal creature obviously extended to ghosts.

Celestina hadn’t even known that she’d seen a ghost! Neither had I, for that matter.  

Below me, rather than turn away to find Alexis (or me, from his vantage point) to discover why she’d reacted so out of character, Nolan headed back to the microphone with an expression revealing that he’d forsaken reason in favor of allowing instinct to take over. “This would have been a good show,” he said with certainty, watching the crowd for their reaction.

Heads bobbed in total agreement without the least bit of dissension.

“Lower your phones and cameras,” Nolan said. “Erase any footage you’ve taken tonight.”

A dozen people pressed buttons on their handheld devices, while every one else stared at Nolan, awaiting further instruction, obviously brainwashed.

I stared in awe at the scene unfolding before me, shocked that Nolan had somehow found the ability to not only push thoughts into one person’s brain but into an collective of minds. That went far beyond anything Alexis could accomplish.

“You’ve seen our performance,” Nolan continued. “We rocked this place!” He nodded his head, and the faces before him mimicked his gesture, their eyes straight ahead and unblinking.

No one shuffled or spoke. The entire building was silent.

Astounded, yet floundering, Kendall managed to nod at him with fervor. “Keep going. Whatever you’re doing is working.”

Without the hesitation that marked his last statements, Nolan grasped hold of complete confidence. “Everything you saw on YouTube? Our performances? The same thing happened tonight.”

The crowd clapped and cheered. The volume increased with every succeeding second.

“You’ll
never
forget our performance,” Nolan continued, shocked but excited by whatever power convinced the entire room to agree with everything he said. “We are…Salem’s Curse, and we’ll see you next time!”

The crowd screamed their approval. Some jumped up and down. Others whistled.

Nolan turned to Kendall with a haunted expression, but when I looked further, I noticed he took great pleasure in his ability to brainwash an entire room of people. Having seen Kendall need plenty of focus to compel the woman in my home earlier tonight, I knew that doing so took plenty of concentration and skill, but to witness Nolan do likewise with around one-hundred and fifty people appeared effortless, almost like an afterthought.

It seemed I’d discovered one more of Nolan’s demonic powers. His accomplishment stunned me into silence. I trailed him as he left the crowd and hurried down the hall, glanced inside the room my body lay inside, and skidded to a stop beside me. “What happened?” he asked, his face mired in confusion. When he saw my bloody shoulder, he reached out, but stopped short. “Her shoulder…Did you call the paramedics?”

“No time,” Brandon said, almost out of breath.

“Oh, my God!” Kendall said from the doorway. She yanked a cell phone out of her pocket and dialed with trembling fingers. A second later, she alerted dispatch to the issue at hand and hung up. She hurried inside the room. “What happened?”

Brandon, who had continued doing CPR on me, was too busy concentrating on keeping my heart viable to notice that she’d spoken.

The last time Celestina attempted to recharge my unconscious body, I was unfamiliar with my abilities and had no idea I could separate from my body, but once more presuming that she wouldn’t be able to revive me without my soul inside my body, I raced over and tried to rejoin it. My spectral form bounced off my body as if a shield blocked my entrance. I tried again, but once more, my spirit pushed backwards.

Celestina kneeled on the ground beside me, rocking back and forth with a troubled expression on her face. “It’s all my fault.”

Brandon paid her no mind, but Nolan turned his attention to her. “What do you mean?” he asked. “How did you get here? Never mind, it’s not important.”

Noticing my niece’s discomfort, Kendall looked from Celestina to Brandon, knowing something unordinary had occurred but unsure what it might have been. “You’re here now,” she said. “Can you help her?”

She cringed and a gulley of torment entered her dimples. She turned toward me and extended a hand toward me, “I’m sorry, Aunt Serena!”

“You can see her?” Nolan asked, looking in my direction. “Where is she? Serena?” He swung his head left and right, a frantic expression on his face making him more anxious than I’d ever seen him. He spun around in a circle as though hoping he’d see me. “I can help. I did it before. I can do it again.”

“No!” I said to my niece. “We don’t know that.” Part of me believed it. The other part suspected that Nolan had somehow latched onto an ability that allowed him to give strength, not just take it. But he didn’t know how he’d called upon that ability. “If he tries again, he might steal whatever life I have left. We can’t risk it.”

Celestina looked at me and glanced at Nolan. She winced, obviously uncomfortable getting between us.

“What?” he asked with a frantic expression. “What’s wrong? Do you see her? Did she say something?”

“Aunt Serena thinks I should try first.” Pleased with such a diplomatic answer, she nodded emphatically as though nothing Nolan could say would change her mind.

“Dammit, Serena, get back to your body,” Kendall commanded, looking all around to express her anger. “Do it. Now!”

Their fear and my failure to return to my body made it difficult for me to concentrate.

“I don’t think she can,” said Celestina. “I couldn’t help her a few minutes ago because her soul wasn’t in her body. But now, she’s dying because of the wolf bite. That wouldn’t have happened without magic. Only magic can cure bad stuff like injuries that come from magic.”

I agreed with my niece’s logic, so I concentrated on finding a way to reconnect with my body. Not one idea presented itself, but how would it? I’d only been astral projecting for a few days, and I’d never encountered anything like this before. Then an idea came to mind. “What if the ghost cursed me?” I asked Celestina.

“Ghosts can’t curse anyone. Only people with sensitivity to the paranormal could—” She didn’t bother completing her sentence, because in this instance, the ghost was supernatural. She slammed an open palm against her forehead. “But a ghost can only haunt you if…” For the briefest moment, Celestina’s face clouded with fury before returning her attention to my fallen form. “Zephora must have told the ghost to haunt you.”

“That can happen?” Nolan asked. “I thought ghosts only haunted places.”

Celestina shivered. “Not always.” She scooted closer to my body, knocked Brandon’s hands aside, and placed one hand on my injured shoulder while setting the other over my heart. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath.

Celestina turned to Nolan. “I need a knife.”

He drew back, startled. “What for?”

“I need it. Get one. Now!”

With complete trust in their gazes, Kendall and Brandon nodded their heads, and as though speaking with one mind and one heart, they simultaneously said, “Do it!” Startled, they scrutinized each other, attempting to determine if it wasn’t a fluke but fate illustrating their connection was deeper than friendship.

Nolan had already read the scrawled black permanent marker writing on half-a-dozen boxes before tearing open a cardboard box. He removed a silverware knife, hurried back, and held it out for Celestina.

An irritated expression hit her face, making it clear she’d had something sharper in mind. Still, she placed the knife to her palm, licked her lips, and pressed it down hard into her palm…but she didn’t slice her skin. Frustrated, she handed it to Nolan. “Cut my hand.”

“What?” His face scrunched as though considering the idea absurd. “I’m not going to cut you.”

She gestured to me. “Aunt Serena was bitten by a werewolf. Do you want her to turn into wolf?”

As a terrified expression held him captive, I imagined the consequences of that outcome. Thick hair sprouting across my body. Nails growing long and pointy. Sharp and deadly teeth longing to tear flesh from human and animal victims alike. Howling in the moonlight as my clothes tore from my body before I darted into the woods on all fours.

Please, Celestina, I hope your magic heals me!

“Take the knife!” Celestina shouted at Nolan.

Reluctantly, he did as she asked.

“Now cut my palm.”

Nolan looked at her hand.

The floor began to rumble, forcing the shelving units to rattle against the ground, while the items inside dozens of boxes shifted. “Stop wasting time!” she shouted. As in the past, when Celestina had no outlet for the anger or anxiety that rushed through her, the ground quaked.

Kendall and Brandon glanced at the quaking shelves and swung their heads toward Nolan. Once more, they spoke as one: “Do it!”

Nolan nodded. He swiped the knife from her hand, and without a second thought, he grabbed her hand, pressed the knife into it, and dug deep down, striking a rivulet of blood.

A rush of heat and tremendous energy flowed through my soul.

Celestina removed her cut hand and placed it against my injured shoulder. She shuttered her eyes and began whispering under her breath in a language I’d never heard before. After ten more seconds, she snapped open her eyes. “Try it again, Aunt Serena. Now!”

I darted on an intercept course with my body, and this time, I slipped into it effortlessly. A second later, I turned over, gasped, and coughed for air. Those around me probably assumed I did so because I’d lacked oxygen, but unbeknownst to them, I took in a gust of air from fright, thinking I might not have returned to the land of the living.

I turned to my friends and felt a little stronger. My right shoulder no longer throbbed. When I glanced at it, I discovered that my skin was still bloody, although the gnawed flesh was no longer grated but smooth and untouched.

Celestina had obviously repaired my wound.

“Is it true?” Nolan asked, his eyebrows darting up in fright. “Did a werewolf attack you?” An antagonistic expression took hold of him. “First ghosts and now werewolves? What’s next? A visit from the Lochness Monster?”

In no mood or shape to respond sarcastically, I said, “My sister set a pack of werewolves on me. One of them bit me.”

Kendall rushed to the spot opposite Celestina. “Why does your mother have it out for Serena?”

Shriveling like a flower without sun or water for weeks on end, Celestina seemed to burrow into herself as she shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Hey!” I said to Kendall. “Relax, okay? I’m all right.”

Kendall sensed my niece’s discomfort, so she slackened the severe expression on her face.

No longer under attack, Celestina scooted closer to my body. “What about the werewolf venom?” I asked my niece. “Will it turn me?”

“No. When I healed you, my blood killed the venom.”

I trusted her implicitly. “Thank God!” Although my niece had healed me, she hadn’t resuscitated me. When that occurred in the past, I needed time to regain my bearings. I’d been so disoriented that I’d momentarily forgotten my name. Now, I awoke with complete awareness. “But how? Vampires have recuperative powers. I didn’t think witches had that ability.” Once more, I wondered how Celestina had more than three abilities. It seemed like she was picking up a new ability every day! I shivered at how casually my niece had flicked her wrist at Kendall and Brandon, only to have them soar eight feet through the air and collapsed in a heap on the ground.

“How did you fix her?” Brandon asked Celestina, refraining from looking her way. “How can you be sure she’s fine?”

Celestina cracked a wicked grin. “I read
The Book of Souls
. If someone is missing a limb or a body part, I can’t heal them because I’m not a doctor. I can’t do bypass surgery or whatever you call it. I can heal injuries, or shock your heart to beat again, but that’s about it.”

How had Celestina remembered that spell, among all the incantations and all things magical that generations of witches in our line had added to our family grimoire? Not only that, but as the owner of the book, Celestina had the ability to ask it three questions and receive answers. That still mystified me. After all, how could a book respond? Then again, nothing seemed ordinary about that book, so I couldn’t rule out anything when it came to
The Book of Souls
.

For the briefest of moments, as though she shouldn’t have allowed the thought to infiltrate her mind, Celestina appeared proud of herself, and then she quashed her assured expression as though it had no place in her life.

“But that book is huge,” Kendall said, her face crinkling in disbelief. “You read the whole thing several times?”

“No, I just read it once.”

Everyone stared at her, confused.

Had Celestina taken up speed-reading? I doubted it. Although she hadn’t displayed social awkwardness among adults, I figured that flaw only arose around those her own age, which might have made it difficult for her to concentrate in school, which probably explained why her peers mocked her. Of course, I’d only assumed she had difficulty keeping up with her fellow students when it came to her studies. Perhaps I’d misjudged her. Still, how many thirteen-year olds wanted to speed read, much less accomplish that goal? Something didn’t add up.