She dried her hands and went to her private altar room to recast the spell that would give her sight through the varcolai’s eyes. She’d find out where he was, track him down, and kill him. That alone would take the edge off her grief. Maybe. The hole in her heart caused by Evie’s death seemed bigger, not smaller. Like nothing could fill it.

Revenge was a good start, though.

She closed the hidden door behind her and kneeled before the wood slab that served as her altar. The spell’s ingredients were still out, but they’d been moved. Used. The silver bowl holding them was blacker than she’d left it.

She inhaled, using her new, stronger senses to test the air. The scent of Evie’s shampoo lingered, along with the scent of blood, most likely Evie’s from using the spell, but below that was something darker. A scent that stung Aliza’s nostrils like ammonia. Silver. Not only had Evie been in here and used the spell, but she’d added silver to it to make it stronger. Aliza’s gut turned over. For Evie to find out about the room was one thing—secret spaces weren’t so unusual, all witches had them—but to add silver? It would have pushed the magic to a new level. Evie’s control over the varcolai would have been powerful strong. He would have felt her upon him like a hand pressing him forward.

And he would have fought it, fought whatever Evie compelled him to do. He would have gotten mad. An angry varcolai was dangerous enough, but Doc had history with her girl. Bad history.

Aliza sat back on her heels. What had Evie seen? What had she made the varcolai do? Why had she brought him here? How had she not seen the danger? She’d gotten herself killed because of it. Anger welled up in Aliza’s churning innards. Anger at herself for not closing out the spell after she’d used it the first time. Recasting it would have been a simple enough task.

But how was she to have known Evie would find it and open it for her own purposes? That she would change it up in such a way that she’d end up losing her life?

With a strangled sob, Aliza grabbed the lighter and lit the wick on the oil lamp, her purpose for opening the spell renewed. The varcolai had to die. This whole mess had to be tidied up and put behind her, for Evie’s sake and the sake of Aliza’s new life. Being a vampire made her powerful, but it made her vulnerable, too. Her blood held double the power it had when she was just a witch. No telling what schemes some of the shadier members of her coven might be thinking up just to get a sample of it.

A revenge killing, something swift and decisive and merciless, would set a good tone for this new era of her life. Show her coven and the rest of the world that she was not to be trifled with.

She ground the proper amount of ingredients in the mortar, dumped them into the bowl, and set it over the flame. The fire crackled and hissed. Then she pricked her finger and added a drop of blood. Time to see just how powerful her vampire blood was. If things went the way she thought, she should be unstoppable. Combine that with the coming Samhain and getting her revenge should be a snap. Getting the vampire child even easier.

Smoke coiled out of the bowl, flattening almost instantly into a hazy screen. Already she could tell the spell was responding faster. “Let me see through his eyes,” she whispered.

The fanned-out smoke rippled once, then went shimmery like the surface of the glades in the early morning sun. Aliza leaned in and the smoke bent to meet her, enveloping her face like a mask.

She blinked hard at the smoke in her eyes and coughed.

“You okay?”

Aliza whipped around to see who’d spoken, but new images filled the tiny altar room. Images of the ghost girl and some fae and a man covered with the same gold markings as the woman who’d come to rescue Doc with the anathema vampire.

Aliza was in.

Chapter Twenty-four

Abrutal jab of intrusion sucked the breath out of Doc. How the hell? Both witches were dead.

“You okay?” Fi scooted closer to him on the couch.

“No.” Someone was in his head again. Someone powerful. They weren’t making any demands yet, but they were there, filling his mind with their presence. Evie was dead, so it wasn’t her. That must mean Preacher hadn’t really killed Aliza, dammit. He closed his eyes to keep her from seeing more than she already had.

“What’s up?” Creek asked. He clicked off the news they’d been watching.

Doc shook his head, unwilling to say anything to tip Aliza off that he knew.

“Something’s wrong. Is the fever back?” Fi grabbed his arm. “Do you have a headache?”

“You could say that.” He put a finger to his lips, then used that finger to very slowly spell out the word witch in the air. Finished, he pointed to his head. He made scribbling motions, indicating he wanted a pen.

“What’s going on?” Damian asked.

“I’ll explain in a minute,” Fi answered him. She tugged on Doc’s arm. “Let’s get you to the couch.”

He nodded and let her lead him. Footsteps came and went around him, and a moment later, an e-tablet and a stylus were shoved into his hands. Eyes still closed, he jotted a quick note and hoped it was legible. Aliza’s not dead. Using the spell to control me again. Can’t talk. Don’t say anything you don’t want her to know.

“Sounds good,” Fi said.

Doc held out the e-tablet and made a wiping motion. Fi’s hands brushed his and the e-tablet moved under the pressure of her erasing the screen. He placed it on his knees and wrote some more. Put me in a room away from you. Lock me in. See if you can find a way to break this spell. Maybe the KM knows. Or Vel.