Page 54 of Twice Bitten

The entire neighborhood was buzzing about the Rolls Royce and vampire driver they’d seen at my house. I’d noticed at least two posts on our neighborhood board, and someone had gone so far as to tag me asking to share the “hot goss.”

I shunned social media for the most part. The only reason I had an account was to keep tabs on the neighborhood goings-on, things like power outages and construction, simply to keep Edmund up to date. He cared about that stuff, only so he could monitor whether the Wi-Fi mightbe off.

I found myself wishing that all I had to worry about was the Wi-Fi.

A few hours later, I had several more hair pins created and a number of orders filled for the apothecary, but I’d gotten no further with figuring out what was happening with me. Nothing had popped up in any of the books I’d flipped through except the usual.

According to every internet search and every book I picked up, witches could not be infected with vampirism or lycanthropy, and certainly not both.

Being an impossibility was never a good thing. It attracted attention, and that was the last thing I wanted.

I gathered up the pins and packages and brought them upstairs. The orders went straight to the mud room. Alric’s threats about my apothecary lingered in the back of my mind, but I’d be damned if I changed anything for him. He wanted me to dance to his tune, and I couldn’t do that if I were in jail, could I? He’d think twice before reporting me to anyone. Smiling to myself, I tucked one of the pins in my purse to wear to work in the morning, along with a recipe for scrying herbs I rarely used but might need soon.

Most people thought a hedgewitch was a natural witch. While that was true, this was not the only thing we were. Hedgewitches were walkers of a sort. We “rode the hedge”, which meant we could astral travel or journey through the spirit world. I rarely used this talent, finding little reason to explore other realms. It was difficult enough to live in this one.

But after everything that happened, I needed more guidance. Marinka had offered very little help, except for the address she’d scrawled across that slip of paper. I planned to head there tomorrow after work, but I wasn’t confident they’d tell me what was going on with me and why I was changing. Still, it was more of a lead than I’d ever had, and if a visit mightpoint me in the right direction, I’d be a fool not to make the effort.

Riding the hedge might offer up a spirit guide to help me. I’d never sought one before for reasons I wasn’t sure of. Most witches had guides, but I had Mom to teach me. When she left, I felt like seeking out a guide was replacing her, so I could never bring myself to go through with the search.

I took learning seriously, but now I was a solo practitioner. Anything I learned came from trial and error and books. While covens existed and most witches belonged to one, Mom had urged me to be independent and assured me that any magic a coven could do, I could do by myself.

When I asked about group spells being more powerful, she’d scoffed and waved her hand. “Our power comes from here.” She’d touched her chest. “Group spells are good for some things, but in a coven of thirteen, there are thirteen chances for something to go wrong.”

At my look of dismay, she’d ruffled my hair. “You are young, Alex. As you grow older, and people show who they are, you will realize it’s far easier to trust one or two people than a baker’s dozen. Keep those trusted few close, darling.”

Her words proved right over the years, and I’d never found a coven I wanted to join. But sometimes when I was down in the basement sitting in my circle, my chest ached with loneliness, and I wondered if I’d made a mistake somewhere along the way.

And then…

“If you keep eating like that, you won’t be able to fit through the basement door, Alex.”

I’d inherited Edmund.

I paused with my fingers over the freezer door. “You’re just jealous you don’t have a stomach.”

“Maybe mix in some fiber sometimes.”

“I had a salad yesterday.” Magic took a lot ofenergy, and refueling became a necessary evil. Edmund’s words stung, but they were untrue. Most witches ate double the amount a human did. Working witches sometimes tripled that.

I opened the freezer and pulled out a pack of chicken thighs and a bag of frozen broccoli I shook up at the ceiling. “Look. A veggie. Now hush.”

Edmund harrumphed. “Did your research turn up anything?”

Hours of fruitless skimming had turned up nada. “Not really. I might have to rob a blood bank soon.”

“Once you upgrade the service, I’ll see what I can find online.”

“You could do that now, you know?”

Edmund sighed. “I could, but it will take me twice as long. Your internet runs at the speed of a depressed donkey. I need to keep you motivated to hurry up and upgrade the service. Also, I noticed you aren’t eating steak tonight.”

I glanced at the chicken still in my hand. “Huh.” Edmund was right. I hadn’t had any weird cravings for hours. “Maybe this necklace is good for more than shifting.”

“Every gift comes at a price.”

“Yes, well, hopefully the price is lower than my grocery bill this week.”

I defrosted the chicken and started cooking dinner for one.