Don't Hex and Drive

Violet’s strange reading made no sense. I knew what my intentions were. To make Isadora mine. So her warning that I could lose her seemed like nonsense. But Violet was a powerful Seer. Still, I had her in my arms now, didn’t I? So maybe Violet was wrong.

Her fingers traced over the hand I had spread over her bare belly. I’d gotten her dress off, but her bra was still on. Though I was pleased there was nothing beneath the blanket spread over her lower body. I wanted one more time before she left me. Who was I kidding? I was conjuring ways I could convince her to move in with me while I was still in New Orleans. Or perhaps, I could stay here longer. Should stay longer.

The idea of settling here permanently suddenly had great appeal. Ruben was my dearest friend. The Savoie family had all but welcomed me with open arms. And Isadora.

Fuck. Isadora. The thought of her name, of her smile, of her tender heart and sweet soul had found permanent residence in my own thoughts on a daily basis. The idea of leaving this behind, of leaving her, widened that gaping hollow that lived deep inside me. Funny how the opposite, of imagining a life here with her at my side filled that aching loneliness I’d been carrying around with me for centuries, from place to place, country to country. Ever since I’d lost and left my first home, I’d been subconsciously seeking another. My heart squeezed at the possibility I may have just found it.

“This must be for Stygorn, right?” She fingered the silver ring on my index finger with the onyx center and strangely scripted S.

“Yes and no.” My voice was rough with heady emotion as I soaked in her beauty, her lovely presence.

She smiled, tilting those gorgeous green eyes in my direction. “It’s an S, Devraj.”

I laughed. “Yes. But it stands for Styx, actually.”

A frown pinched her pretty brow. “Why Styx?”

“That was the name of the first known Stygorn.”

“Really?” She flipped sideways, propping her head on her elbow, her wild wavy hair falling across her chest. “Tell me about him.”

I shifted to do the same, relishing that her gaze flicked down my naked body, certainly noticing I was half-hard already.

“You want some covers?” she asked, lifting the edge up.

I wasn’t cold or embarrassed in the open, but I wanted an excuse to be closer, so I shuffled under the blanket with her. She blushed, her gaze dropping to my biceps, which made me want to lean forward and kiss her sweetly. But I wasn’t sure how she’d react. Sure, we’d just had sex three times, but the last time she was here she’d distanced herself when the physical intimacy felt too intense. I didn’t want to scare her off again.

“Not a him. A her.”

“Really?” Her face brightened.

“Oh, yes. Styx was a born vampire, not made, a millennium ago. Her parents, a vampire and a witch with gifts as a Seer and an Influencer, brought her to their perspective Guilds, saying she demonstrated heightened gifts. At two, she could make a seasoned vampire do her will. And she could track deer in a blizzard at age five. But like most gifted vampires, supernaturals began to fear her.”

“She was too powerful,” said Isadora, nibbling on a grape.

I focused on her lips as she held the grape between her teeth.

“Indeed, she was. A faction of vampires sent out their best trackers when the family fled. Eventually, they tracked them down. When her mother and father were nearly killed trying to defend their child, Styx, now eight years old, beheaded every vampire with a single swing of her knife.”

“Wow.”

“Indeed. After that, the Guild instilled a protection law.” I lifted a lock of her blond hair, rubbing the silky strands between my fingers. “Later, after her gene was passed down, by blood or bite, the Stygorn were formally named. Our name is a loose variation of stygian, the origin of the mythical river of the underworld Styx.” Pressing her lock of hair to my lips, I met her quizzical gaze. “Then they began to be trained by ancients.”

“And the rest, as they say, is history.” Isadora got that dreamy look, watching me sweep her lock of hair against my closed mouth. “It’s hard to imagine such a brutal world that would allow that to happen to Styx and her family before our laws were put into place. Before the Stygorn became revered instead of feared.”

“We’re still feared,” I admitted. “I’m not always as welcome as I am here with Ruben’s coven. To be honest, I’m not so sure how welcome I am even here.”

“Seriously?” She sat up, seemingly affronted by this fact. “Vamps give you shit for being Stygorn.”

I laughed. “Some do. The ones who fear us still.”

Her frown deepened. I pressed my thumb to the spot, smoothing it out by rubbing softly. “Don’t worry. I’m fine.”

“But I don’t like the idea of people mistreating you. You can’t help that you’re a stronger vampire. That’s ignorant prejudice. It’s stupid.”

“Lots of people are stupid for less reasons than that, love.”

“Well, I don’t like it.”

Something buoyed up inside my chest, lifting me with the thought of her care for my wellbeing. “You learn to ignore the fools and cherish your friends.”

I laced my hand with hers, palm to palm. And she let me.

“You’re wise, Devraj. And more forgiving than me.”

I smiled. “I’ve lived a long time.”

She nodded. “So the S is for Styx.”

“But also, the ring is a symbol of my status as a Stygorn. We’re given the ring after our training is complete.”

She stared at our laced fingers, fair and dark overlapping, entangling. So lovely. “And how did you become a vampire?”

“That’s kind of a sad story. I’m not sure you want to hear it.”

“I do.” She stared at me, sincerity written in her eyes.

I’d told this story to only a handful of people, all of whom were dear friends and confidants. Like Ruben. And never a woman I had bedded. Strange that I felt as if I were walking across a line in the proverbial sand. A place of no return by sharing this intimate part of my past that I clung to and hid from the world.

“I was young, only thirteen, and I took my mother on our annual pilgrimage to Varanasi. This was the first time since my father had died of illness the previous year. We were nearing the temple and set up camp on the outskirts of the city. I told my mother I’d find fresh water for us to wash and drink. So I went inside the city, wandering the streets filled with people. Somehow, I found myself being lured down an empty alley and then a stone stairwell. I don’t know why, but I knew I had to follow the whispering in my mind.”

I paused, remembering the bone-deep fear and allure of that voice, guiding me toward my fate whether I wanted it or not.

“A Stygorn vampire.”

“An ancient one,” I added before going on. “He sat upon a throne deep in the earth, his hall lit only by braziers. There were other vampires, beautiful ones draped in the shadowy spaces on luxurious silks. Golden platters of food and drink sparkled, filling my senses with the opulence of this place, the majesty of this man. Gorgeous women, stunning men, all seemed to be worshipping the one on the throne. I thought I’d fallen into a dream because I couldn’t resist when he held out a hand to me, covered in jewels. His eyes were pure liquid silver.”

I huffed out a laugh, the memory smarting.

“I went to him so easily. So, so easily, Isadora. A poor boy being summoned by a king. So I’d thought.” She squeezed my hand before I went on, “I took his hand, and he said, ‘One day, you will thank me.’ Right before he hauled me to him and bit me hard, drinking so long I passed out. When I woke, I was still in that room, the braziers of torches lighting the room. But there was no beautiful entourage at his feet. No golden platters. Only cobwebs and the musty dank smell of decay. Just the beast himself in ragged clothes. When he saw me wake, he stood, his eyes glowing bright silver, his face flushed and healthy after feeding. The rest had been a mirage created by his glamour. There was such pain and such thirst, but all I could do was look up at the vampire. He smiled down at me and repeated, ‘One day, you will thank me.’ Then he walked away and left me there.

“I remember wrapping my scarf around my neck to hide the mark and stumbling my way back to my mother. I’d found a well along the way and drank furiously, trying to quench my thirst. But nothing would do it. Not until I stole a goat and drank from it when the thirst had nearly made me mad. That was when the guilt set in.”

“What was wrong with him? Vampires don’t behave like that anymore.”

“He was an ancient who’d been in a trance-like sleep for centuries, waking to smell me near. I don’t know why he pinpointed me out of a city full of people, using his power to lure me, but he had. The bite had nearly killed me, but he’d also transferred the magic and power of the Stygorn.”

We paused for a few minutes, neither speaking, till she asked quietly, “Did your mother ask what happened to you?”

“Oh, yes. She did. She knew something was wrong, but I’d returned. I was alive, and that was enough to pacify her. As a widow, she had a very hard life in that time. I’d already sworn to never marry while she was alive. I was her only child. I had to stay close and keep her safe. Now that I knew what monsters lived in the world, I was determined to keep them away from my mother. The only problem”—I gulped hard, staring down at Isadora— “was that I’d become one of the monsters.”

“No.” She squeezed my hand, hauling it closer against her breast. “Of course, you weren’t.”

“Can you imagine the kind of guilt I felt as a Hindu to live as a vegetarian, who vowed to hurt no living creature for my body’s sustenance? Then I’d sneak off into the night to steal and kill a neighbor’s sheep or drink from his goats. I avoided killing when I could, but in the beginning, I couldn’t stop myself. I had no one to teach me. The only option was to stop altogether and die. But I couldn’t do it.”