Primal Kill (The Order of Vampires #5)

Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

I t made no sense that Juniper was this messed up over a woman she barely knew. But there was something worth saving in Adriel. Despite her five hundred-year existence, she barely lived.

Juniper needed to hone her magic. She needed to access all the hidden power inside of her. That was the only way they were going to beat Cerberus. It was the only way to save her friend.

However, that would mean actually acknowledging her vampire roots and…

Juniper swallowed, her insides souring at the thought. There was only one foolproof way to access that side of her genetics, but she wasn’t sure if she could stomach it—literally.

Ugh, the thought of drinking blood…

She couldn’t. She just couldn’t.

On top of feeling nauseous, her insides were twisted up in knots. She didn’t want to face that part of herself, but she also didn’t want to lose Adriel.

But what if this Cerberus guy was really as scary as Adriel made him sound? She was his mate, and Dane was his son, but that didn’t even matter. It took a special kind of sick fuck to be that cruel to family.

If they decided to go after him, they were all at risk. Juniper couldn’t bear any more remorse.

That meant they had to beat him. They needed a strong plan. Plus magick. They would need lots of fucking magick.

She chucked a rotten tomato into the bushes for the rabbits to eat.

“Hey.” Dane stood at the gate.

“H-hey.”

“Is it safe to enter, or are you going to pummel me with tomatoes?”

She glanced at the insane vegetation crowding the steps. “There are enough for me to do real damage.”

He dropped his gaze and softly laughed. Unlatching the gate, he approached the back steps. “I, uh…I’m sorry I flipped out. I don’t even know what I said?—”

“It’s cool.”

“No, it’s not. I know more than anyone what it’s like to want revenge. My mom…”

“I know. Adriel told me.” She pushed the basket aside and brushed away the dead leaves and dirt so she could sit on the step. “She also explained the, um, Gracie thing.”

He frowned. “What did she say?”

Juniper shrugged. “That you care about her.”

Hands buried in his pockets, he shuffled closer and sat beside her on the step. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry that didn’t work out.”

“Which part?”

“All of it. Your mom, your sister, not being able to help you with Isaiah.”

“You tried.”

She had tried, but she knew very little about magick, and she’d been weak and depleted. She wished she could have done more. Maybe then his sister wouldn’t be gone, too.

“I’m free because of you, Dane. It’s not my goal to upset you.”

“I know.” He plucked a ripe tomato off the vine and sniffed it. “I get the Jonas thing.”

“I’m not gonna do anything. Truthfully, I wouldn’t even know where to start. And I’m never going back there.”

He nodded. “I know it doesn’t lessen your grief, but if it’s any consolation, Grace wasn’t okay after what she did to your aunt. She’s not a violent person, and she deeply regrets her actions.”

“If only that brought my aunt back.”

“At the time, she was only acting on instinct. Gracie didn’t know what her father had done to you. If she could take back her actions, she would. ”

“She told you that?”

“She, uh…didn’t have to.”

Juniper frowned. “What do you mean?”

He pointed to his head. “I can sometimes glean impressions from others. I’m really not that good at it compared to the immortals, but Gracie has always been an easy read for me, which further proves her goodness.”

“You can read minds?”

“Mostly just children. The more innocent a person’s mind, the easier it is for me to sense what they’re thinking. Gracie has a lot of regret about that day.”

“If you feel all that for her, why were you with that Magdalen chick?”

“Maggie’s like me—like us. She’s a half-breed. She taught me how to feed, and we kept each other company. It passed the time.”

She shivered, recalling how time never seemed to move in that place. “You were lonely.”

“Yes.” He set the tomato aside. “What I feel for Grace is different.”

It was clear he loved her very much. “How do they know half-breeds can’t get called?”

He shrugged. “The elders said so.”

“And they know everything?”

He shrugged again.

She hated the elders. “I don’t think they’re as all-knowing as everyone makes them out to be. If they were, they wouldn’t have been so afraid of little old me.” That was why they kept her muzzled and tied, why they did not let her look at them. “Or maybe they know more about me than I know about myself.”

“Aren’t you curious? Feeding can be incredible. It’s like a switch going off in your brain. Every cell in your body comes alive, and you feel—limitless.”

“No one’s limitless.” Juniper would eventually experience what he described, but she didn’t want to think about it now. “What if Gracie gets called to someone she hates?”

“It doesn’t work that way. I’ve seen it with Adam and Annalise, and Larissa and the Bishop. The bond between mates is unbreakable.”

“Bullshit. If that were true, Adriel wouldn’t be running from Cerberus.”

“You shouldn’t speak his name.”

“I have the whole property spelled.” She studied him for a moment. “Do you feel anything toward him, as your father?”

“Fuck no. I care about Adriel. He’s nothing to me.”

He was one more person Dane would lose. Not a terrible loss, but a loss all the same.

“I don’t know my dad either,” she confessed.

“Do you wish you did?”

She shrugged. “Not really. I only recently discovered he existed. My aunts didn’t know much about the calling stuff, but I assume that’s why my mother abandoned me.”

“Wait, she was called?”

“Why else would she leave her newborn child? ”

“But she was a witch. Only full-bred immortals can be called.”

Juniper’s insides turned to ice, and she stilled. “Well, that’s just fucking great. I guess it really was just about Niro the Wonder Schlong.”

Dane nudged her shoulder with his. “It’s their loss.”

“Thanks.” The whole destined mates thing came with too many rules. Just when she thought she had it figured out, she learned something new. “I’m glad my future isn’t tied to someone I’ve never met.”

“Me too.”

“What will you do if Gracie never gets called?”

“I hope that doesn’t happen.”

“But you love her. Are you saying you want her to be with someone else?”

“I want her to be happy.”

Dane, once again, proved he was a good guy. She couldn’t knowingly betray or hurt him because she respected him. “I promise I won’t do anything that hurts her—emotionally or otherwise.”

“Thank you.” He sighed with relief and then glanced down at the basket of tomatoes by her feet. “Are you making something with them?”

They might as well eat some of the harvest before it rotted. “Pasta?”

“Can I help?”

“Sure, but you should know my cooking skills tap out at Ramen. ”

“Maybe you don’t need cooking skills. When I was looking at your books, I read something about water magick. This could be a great opportunity to practice your craft. Think you could cook dinner without the gas?”

She smiled, encouraged by the challenge. “I can try.”

Adriel was in the kitchen when they entered the house. She didn’t appear surprised to see them together.

“We apologized.”

“I heard.”

Damn vampires and their supersensory hearing.

Needing a change of subject, Juniper hefted the basket of tomatoes onto the table. “Do you like spaghetti?”

Adriel’s smile triggered something protective in Juniper. She needed to heighten her magick skills because she couldn’t accept Adriel’s plan of surrender. “Who doesn’t? I’ll get the flour.”

“Oh, okay. We’re doing this old school.”

Adriel glanced over her shoulder, already rummaging through the cabinets. “That’s the only school I know.”

The next hour resembled a Disney montage with dark notes of Grimm and a shortage of fairy dust. Those little pixies in Sleeping Beauty made it look so easy. The reality was an underwhelming mess.

After Adriel mixed the flour and egg on the table, Dane rolled out the dough. Juniper washed the tomatoes and chopped them into chunks. Once they were on the stove, she grabbed her notes.

It couldn’t be that hard. She’d made fire before. Just never on a gas stove. Time to concentrate and not blow up the house.

“Maybe we should put Ruth outside.”

Dane dug through the drawer for a knife. “Ruth’s fine. You’re not using the gas. You’re using your mind. Just try.”

Juniper stared at the burner where the pot for the tomatoes and a pot of water sat. Without gas or wood, she would have to hold the flame herself, all while maintaining the constant weight of the protection spell she’d been carrying since they left the woods.

“Maybe we should just use the stove.”

“You’ve got this.” Dane nudged her toward to range. “Just focus and say the right words.”

She grimaced, her attention on the base of the empty pot. She held up her palms, embarrassed when they shook. The added pressure of having an audience made the chance of screwing this up all the more embarrassing.

With a trembling breath, she whispered, “Insignia.”

Nothing happened. Not even a spark. She doubled her focus and tried again.

“Insignia. Damn it. It’s not working. Insignia!” Frustrated, she dropped her hands and rose to her full height. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

Adriel and Dane came to the stove to look at the boring sight. “Maybe you’re missing something.” Dane inspected the surface and pots. “On the farm, you had all the elements, remember?”

He was right. The tomatoes were of the earth, and there was water in the pasta pot, but they were still missing a few crucial ingredients. How had she overlooked something so simple? This was Magick 101. “I need an offering for air and fire.”

“You’re making the fire.”

“Oh, right.” She was not good at this. “Then a feather. Something to represent air. There has to be an offering.”

“Wouldn’t the air we’re breathing be enough?” Adriel asked.

“I’m not sure.”

They went outside to look for a feather. Dane searched the hedges while she and Adriel searched the driveway. “Can’t you manifest something?”

“I can try.” Juniper closed her eyes and stepped out of her shoes, pressing her bare feet into the grass. Once she felt grounded, she envisioned the universe providing what she needed.

“Will this work?” Adriel held up a long feather.

“Holy crap,” Dane said, his shock mimicking Juniper’s. “Did you do that?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll braid it into your hair, so this element is always with you.”

Juniper smiled and nodded, feeling not only supported by the elements but also by her friends.

Adriel sectioned off a thin strand of hair and got to work. A shiver skipped down her spine when Adriel’s breath teased her cheek. Juniper froze, remembering when an immortal had been that close and ripped into her.

“Did I hurt you?”

“N-no.” Adriel would never hurt her. She truly believed that now.

When she tied the braid off, the feather secured and hanging over Juniper’s shoulder, she stepped back and admired her work. “There. Now, you’ll always have it with you.” The braid and feather slid through her tapered fingers, and she smiled. “Pretty.”

Juniper ducked her gaze and mumbled a thank you, unsure why her face was suddenly hot. “Let’s try this again.”

They crowded her as she faced the stove.

“I need a little space.”

She took a deep breath and channeled Aether, the primordial god of light. “ Insignia.”

Adriel gasped, and Dane laughed when a little flame came to life, but it quickly disappeared.

“Shit.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Try again.”

Juniper breathed deep and squared her shoulders, focusing hard on the base of the pot. “Insignia!”

They cheered as a small flame blazed but then quickly flickered out as if frightened by their excitement.

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.” It was as if her magick wasn’t holding. “When my aunts did big spells, they would sometimes put their magick in other objects or borrow energy from other witches.”

“Where are we getting another witch?”

She looked over her shoulder at Dane. “We’re not.” She needed something she could charge, something that could sustain its shape while the fire burned. “I’ve got it!”

She rushed out the back door without explanation. Dropping to her knees, Juniper used a stick to dig a hole near the fence where no one walked. Navigating the earthworms and roots, she dug until the loose soot transformed into a damp clay.

She pried a collection of geodes from the earth and then banged them on the walkway.

“Juniper, what are you doing?”

“I need to break these open to see what’s inside.”

Adriel closed the distance. “You’re going to smash your fingers. Let me help.” She took a stone in both hands and tightened her grip. It snapped open as if she were cracking an egg.

“Holy crap.”

Unfortunately, the insides were not what she needed. “Can you break open the rest of them?”

Adriel cracked open several more stones, but none of them had anything more than layers of useless matter inside. She needed something powerful.

“We have to find a crystal.”

They dug until the sun faded behind the trees. It seemed like a useless effort until Adriel gasped. “How about this one?”

Minerals sparkled from inside the broken rock Adriel held, and Juniper scrambled to her feet. “That’s perfect!”

Taking the crystal inside, she washed it off to reveal a mixture of calcite and grey amethyst in the crevices. She set the crystal in the divot of the burner.

“Let’s hope this works because I’m out of ideas after this.” Calcite was great for amplifying energy, and amethyst was known to open the chakra around the third eye. Taking a deep breath, she held up her hands and called upon Spirit. “ Insignia.”

A flame caught, flickering from the gemstone, and Juniper laughed. “Nobody move!” Dane and Adriel held back as Juniper blew a soft breath on the flame, and it doubled in size. “I did it!”

“I’ll start crushing the tomatoes.”

Juniper continued to focus on the stove. The books explained how water was made up of memory. It was transient in form, converting from ice to vapor and able to undergo extreme heat as it traveled through the earth and air. If she tapped into the water’s memory, she should be able to heat it to a boil. It was basic alchemy and something she’d watched her Aunt Venus do many times before.

Placing her hands on the side of the cool pot, she shut her eyes and poured her energy into the water. “ Memóriám liquoris calefactus sum. Memóriám liquoris calefactus sum. Memóriám liquoris calefactus sum.”

The motion around her stilled, and the kitchen silenced. Dane and Adriel were on the other side of the table.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.” Juniper frowned. “I…felt something.” She refocused on the pot and continued chanting. “ Memóriám liquoris calefactus sum— There it is again!”

“What are you talking about?” Dane frowned.

“I feel something—or someone—touching me.”

“Where?”

“On my hand. It’s not a bad feeling. It’s like…an energy. Like they’re trying to help me.”

“We’ve already got an immortal, a hybrid, and a witch,” Dane said with a shrug. “Sure, why not bring ghosts into it?”

Was it a ghost? If it was, the spirit wasn’t trying to hurt her. On the contrary, she felt it wanted to help her.

“It’s offering me its energy.” Juniper drew in a deep breath and exhaled, refocusing on the pot of water as she chanted once more. “Memóriám liquoris calefactus sum.”

Adriel and Dane chimed in, and they found a rhythm. Harmonizing, as if singing, they chanted and started to dance, much like the indigenous people did when they called upon the rain.

Ruth was drawn into the kitchen by noise and energy. “Sing with us, Ruth,” Adriel invited, and the older woman joined in.

Juniper laughed as the water's energy vibrated with the gentle bubbles that preceded a boil. “Keep going!”

They chanted louder and louder until she yanked her hands back, the metal now too hot to touch.

Could she do it without touching the metal? How powerful were these words?

The air buzzed around her, and the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood up. A surge of power flowed through her veins and streamed from her fingertips.

“Do you feel it? It’s everywhere!”

Her brain hummed, and her heart raced as vitality powered through her like a live wire, something electric shooting through every nerve of her body, moving through her veins and pumping into her heart faster than cocaine. A dome of power formed over the kitchen, siphoning more energy from outside.

Juniper became a great maestro of the elements, conducting an orchestra of energy that built to such a ringing crescendo she could no longer hear the others chanting—only the intense buzzing around her as the water trembled and the pot rattled on the stove .

The steady buzz rang in her ears as her pulse vibrated. Faster and harder, energy pumped through her veins. It pulled from the earth and traveled from the soles of her feet, where it pulsed into every muscle of her body. They generated so much power she seemed weightless as if she could float through gravity and time.

Steam billowed from the surface of the water as tiny bubbles raced to the top.

“June?”

The pull was magnetic and delightful. She couldn’t look away.

“Uh, Juniper?”

The glass trembled in the window frames and the doors jerked at the hinges. Invisible hands—dozens—pressed into her, lending enough power to lift her hair off her shoulders. The water started to hiss.

“Juniper!” Dane and Adriel screamed as more lights flickered, and then something popped.

Glass shattered.

Dane tried to grab her, but the invisible hands pushed him away, lifting her higher. He shouted, his words pulled into a howling vortex of energy that she could no longer hear. Her heart sped up as sweat beaded on her skin. The buzzing changed to a screech, and suddenly, the pot of water ruptured like a geyser.

“Look out!”

A burst of white-hot light exploded with a sharp whistle, and all went black.