Blood Magic: Demon Curse, #2

By Alex Fox

Phineas has managed to piss off just about everyone. But as long as Dante is alive, he's willing to deal with the consequences. Including Nyx's wrath.

Dante is thrown into a world where magic is much easier to control, but comes at a cost. Dante is not ready to accept what Phineas has done, and rejects the new lifestyle he must live. The only life he wants is one without Phineas.

Hades wants Phineas out of the way, and is willing to make a deal with Dante to do it. In return for Dante's help, Hades will bring Dante's family back. Torn by the possibility of seeing his family again and maybe not hating Phineas as much as he'd like to believe, Dante delves into the world of necromancy. But necromancy is a blood magic, and if Dante wants to bring his family back, he must accept how Phineas saved him and embrace it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alex Fox
• Release date: Nov 17, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386279990

Book preview

I don’t care if people hate my guts; I assume most of them do. The important question is whether they are in a position to do anything about it. My affections, being concentrated over a few people, are not spread all over Hell in a vile attempt to placate sulky, worthless shits

― William S. Burroughs

I: DANTE

Hours might have passed . Maybe minutes. Maybe days. Dante felt every second tick by, but he’d stopped counting them a long time ago. It had to have been long enough for Gwen to get bored with him, as she’d left for the bedroom a while ago, frustrated he wouldn’t talk with her. But he didn’t want to talk to her or anyone. He didn’t want to exist anymore.

He lay on the couch at his office apartment, staring at the ceiling, because closing his eyes brought horrible images to mind. But he’d been staring at the ceiling too long now. The white plaster became a blur, and his imagination took over, anyway. Jessamine, Phineas, Hades. Their faces burned behind his eyes, fueling guilt and fury. The worst image, by far, was his own. He refused to see himself. Refused to observe the damage. So his mind explored the possibilities, transforming his face more and more with each pass. Larger fangs. Whiter skin. Deeper veins. Blood stained lips. Black eyes. He didn’t want to know, but his imagination sufficed to sicken him.

A knock at the door shattered the silence, and Dante cringed. Whoever the hell it was, they weren’t coming in. He’d let them knock for hours without answering if that’s what it took. But the knock came again. And again. And again, before a woman’s voice accompanied it.

Open the door, bitch, or I’m knocking it down!

Feet hit the floor and ran into the living room. Dante glanced over to Gwen who stared at him, eyes wide, mouth ajar.

Not right now, Billie, she shouted back.

The knocking came again, much louder this time. I will knock this door to the ground, woman. Don’t you test me.

Gwen’s eyes never left Dante, but she edged for the door.

I am so sorry, she said, just before the banging sounded again.

Dante sighed and stood, because whoever was on the other side sounded just insistent enough to convince him they would find a way inside. Served him right for going to his office apartment, thinking he’d be safer here. So he turned from Gwen and headed toward the bedroom as the woman on the other side of the door knocked one last time.

When he realized his subconscious was not taking him to the bedroom, he stopped himself. He didn’t want to see, didn’t want to know what had changed. But he had to. Because nothing could be worse than what his imagination had conjured. So he rounded the corner to the bathroom and allowed himself to look in the mirror.

At first glance not much looked different. In fact, if he hadn’t really been looking, he might have thought he looked rather normal. He was a bit paler, but he’d already been so close to a deathly white that it was hardly any different now. His eyes were the next thing he noticed — still gray, but not so colorless. Vampire eyes always seemed to be a bit faded from their natural glow, but Dante’s had already been sucked of life. It seemed turning returned him some color. Bits of blue shone through the usually gray iris, sprinkled like dust, though they were still nowhere close to his original brilliance. None of these observations really mattered, though. It was what hid behind his lips that he dreaded most.

He’d already felt them, his tongue gliding across the new landscape over and over. His lips protruded slightly, and he was terrified of what he’d see once he pulled them back. But he couldn’t draw it out anymore. With a sigh and a reluctant loosening of his jaw, he opened his mouth and let his eyes drift to his teeth.

They weren’t immediately visible, which should have been obvious. Phineas’s had never been apparent, never visible unless he smiled or bared his teeth to show them off. As Dante didn’t feel like smiling, he opened his jaw a little more and pulled back his lips. And there they were. Four large canines – his canines – overgrown and sharpened, hanging down and jabbing upward from his gums. They glistened in the dim light of the bathroom, dripping saliva from a pair of lips not used to the new addition.

Even when he let go of his lips, he could see them, now. Because he couldn’t get his lips to go back completely. They curled in disgust, or terror, and as much as he tried to relax them, he couldn’t. So he stood there staring, the rising and falling of his chest the only movement in the room, watching those white fangs sticking out against the shadow of his mouth.

This was it, then. Phineas had finally gotten his way. Irreversible. He was a vampire now. His stomach knotted, cramping and tightening until he couldn’t stand. He took a step back and turned to sit onto the toilet, clutching his gut as he bent over, trying to keep the feelings from crippling him. They assailed him like daggers, and he wanted to succumb to them, to scream out and fall to the floor. But he couldn’t. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t. Maybe because Gwen was out there with whoever had been pounding at the door.

He stopped, the pain in his stomach still just as intense, but his curiosity strong enough to overpower it. He lifted his head and listened to see if he could hear what was going on. After a moment, voices reached him from the living room.

Food?

You know, like the stuff you eat when you’re hungry.

Because you would know all about that.

The first voice was Gwen, but the other two were new. Dante lifted his head just a little more, cringing against the pain, eager for a distraction. Even if it was an obnoxious intruder.

I still get hungry, said the first, whose unfamiliar voice held a southern twang.

In a very different way, said the second, hers the accent of New Toulouse.

It’s not my food to give away, Gwen said.

Don’t you live here, too? the twang girl asked.

Yeah but...

It’s his apartment, the New Toulouse girl said. Not hers. Obviously she’d need to ask him, first. She paused a moment. Think I could ask him for some food?

Piper!

The two girls said this together, Gwen’s voice coming out softer than the other’s had, as if planting her face into her hand. The other sounded more frustrated, as if this were a common thing.

What? I’m hungry!

Well, go get food somewhere else, Gwen said. I’ll find you guys later.

Ah ah, before you kick us out, the twang said, there was a reason we came here.

Gwen sighed. Of course there was. But do you have to explain it now?

The twang snorted. Might as well while he’s off getting sick on the toilet. We’ve decided we’re going to the ball. And you’re coming with us.

Another sigh from Gwen. Are you sure that’s a good idea?

Why wouldn’t it be? Piper asked.

There was silence for a moment, then Piper let out a long Oh.

Isaac’s had that coming for a long time, the twang said. Honestly, we’re all just surprised it hadn’t happened sooner.

They aren’t mad at me?

The twang snorted. Not for killing Isaac, no. A little peeved you took your blood with you, though.

They’ll get over it, Piper said. We miss you because we like you. Which is why we’re going to the ball together.

Dante grimaced and decided it was time to endure the pain and get up. He lifted himself from the toilet, still tender, and rounded out into the living room, catching the stranger mid-sentence. He saw the middle one first, because she was so hard to miss. Black hair half dyed luminescent red, at least, what remained of it. One side of her head was shaved off, the remaining fuzz dyed red, too. Tattoos covered her body, and she wore the right clothing to show them off. Her ears were pierced three or four times each, as well as her eyebrow and her lip. She wore dark makeup, making her pale blue eyes and pale vampire skin pop. And she couldn’t be anything but a vampire. He could even see her fangs poking out from under her bright red lips, still hanging ajar.

The other one was more subdued. In looks she was closer to Gwen, her native skin just a few shades darker, with dark brown hair which she’d cropped short. Her eyes were a deep brown, almost black, and they were fixed on Dante in a sort of childlike wonder. She couldn’t have been older than fifteen.

So you’re the ones who wanted to break down my door.

Gwen watched him carefully as he leaned against the wall to the bathroom, her eyes sad, brow knotted. She crossed her arms over her chest, like holding back the cold. I’d forgotten I’d invited them over, she said. She looked briefly to the two sitting on the couch. These are my friends, Piper and Billie. Guys, this is Dante.

They each identified in turn. The small, brown-eyed one sprang her hand up at Piper, and the luminescent redhead smiled and wiggled her shoulders at Billie. Dante just nodded and turned back to Gwen.

Remember when I said I had a friend who could see the dead? Gwen said. Dante just kind of nodded. Gwen nodded over her shoulder. Billie responded.

I see dead people.

Dante almost choked when the southern twang came out.

Dead vampires, Piper said.

Dead people killed by vampires, Billie said, raising an eyebrow at her friend. She turned to Dante. You can only see people who died the same way you almost did.

And you almost died by being turned into a vampire? Piper frowned. Don’t you technically have to die to become a vampire?

Billie shrugged. I don’t know. It counts, somehow.

So I’ll be able to see dead vampire victims too, now. Great. Dante sighed but kept it to himself.

So that’s one, Dante said. Who’s the other?

I’m Piper.

Dante sighed. Yes, I know that.

You can call me Pip.

These were my best friends at the house, Gwen said. When I was living with Isaac.

Dante nodded to Piper. But that one’s not a vampire.

She frowned, not angry, but confused. Do I have to be?

Dante glanced at Billie. Everyone else is.

Gwen snorted. I’m not.

Dante sighed and looked back to Pip. Are you a shifter, then?

Pip shook her head, smiling. I have no idea what I am. My eyes glow white, sometimes.

Dante’s face fell flat. How terribly useful.

Billie smiled and shrugged. We keep her around, anyway.

Anyway, Gwen said, looking between Dante and the others, her eyebrows knotting. They landed on the other two after a moment. You should probably get going.

Oh no, Billie said, straightening up, squaring her shoulders. No, you’re not getting out of it that easily.

Gwen glanced back over to Dante, who just watched because he really didn’t care if they stayed or went, as long as they didn’t ask him to do anything.

What? Gwen finally said, looking back to Billie.

The ball! Piper said. We’re taking you!

Gwen sighed. Do we really need to talk about that now?

Yes, Pip said.

No, Billie said. We can end this conversation right now if you say you’ll go with us.

Gwen sighed, her mouth fell open, but no response came out. As Billie raised an eyebrow, Gwen looked to Dante, as if waiting for him to answer. He didn’t move, nor change his expression. He didn’t care if she went or not, and he certainly wasn’t in the mood to give her an excuse not to go. If she wanted out of it, she’d have to come up with something herself.

With a swallow, Gwen seemed to understand this, and turned back to Billie.

Let me think about it.

Okay, Billie said.

Thought about it enough yet? Piper said.

Gwen sighed. Fine, whatever, I’ll go.

You don’t even know when it is.

I’ll go! she said. I thought that was what you wanted?

Promise, Billie said.

No, swear, Pip said.

Gwen rolled her eyes. Seriously, guys.

Yeah, seriously.

Fine! Okay, I promise. I swear, I will go to the fucking ball with you.

Good, Billie said, standing up. Piper scrambled to get up from her slouch on the sofa, but managed to find her feet after a moment and stood next to her friend. "Then I guess we should get going, as we’ve overstayed our welcome."

I really don’t care, Dante said when the two looked to him. Help yourself to some food if you like, too. I won’t be eating any.

Pip’s eyes glowed. Really?

No! Gwen said, getting behind them and ushering them on. No no, out! I'll come find you later.

Billie accepted the fate. Piper had to be pushed along, complaining over her shoulder as she tried and failed to dig her feet into the ground. I don’t trust you.

I will!

Piper went to protest, but Billie had the door open and Gwen showed the brunette out. Billie watched Pip stumble into the hallway then turned back to Gwen. I better be seeing you soon.

Promise.

Swear! came Piper’s distant voice from the hallway.

Gwen shut the door.

II: GWEN

Gwen leaned against the door, as if she could keep Piper and Billie out. She felt Dante’s eyes on her, but she couldn’t look. Not until the footsteps faded. Not until she knew the two were gone. When their steps echoed on the stairwell, she heaved a sigh and turned back to Dante, who was still leaning against the wall to the bathroom.

I’m sorry, she said in a breath. You didn’t have any appointments scheduled for today, so I invited them over. I figured after the whole Isaac thing they wouldn’t come but...

You could go with them if you wanted, Dante said, voice low and disinterested. There’s nothing to do here.

Of course he would say that. Of course he would want to be alone. But that was the worst thing for him right now. The worst thing for her, too. What if he tried something? What if the sun came up and he decided to fuck everything and end it? She looked at him and shook her head.

I’m not leaving you.

Why not? I’m fine.

Her head tilted slightly and her eyes narrowed. She brought her arms up across her chest and blinked. He couldn’t play that card with her. Not anymore. She hadn’t been around long, but long enough to deserve better than that.

Don’t pretend with me.

I’m not.

For God’s sake, if you can’t be honest with me, who can you be honest with?

No one, Dante said, almost too quickly. But I never could. Nothing’s changed.

At this Gwen’s arms dropped, along with her chest. She didn’t realize what she’d said until she saw it on Dante’s face. He’d warned her about Phineas, and it didn’t strike her until now how odd it was. How much Dante hadn’t trusted Phineas, yet stayed with him. There must have been something there, some amount of trust, even if Dante hadn’t shown it. But whatever trust had been there, Phineas had destroyed it, and now Dante had no one. But Gwen couldn’t allow that. She couldn’t allow there to be no one.

She made her way toward him, determined to do something. He looked up at her only a fraction of a second before looking away. She came right up in front of him and grabbed his hands, pulling his attention back to her.

Listen, she said, forcing him to make eye contact and not allowing him to break it.

Dante hesitated, like a dog unwilling to hold her gaze. But his eyes stayed with her, and she took a moment to look at them. A sprinkling of blue came through now, where before they’d been pure gray. The specks littered his eyes like tiny stars, and made his sadness all the more tragic. She took a deep breath, when she was sure he wouldn’t look away, and continued.

You have me, alright? You will always have me, so long as you want me, and I won’t let you get rid of me that easily. So, for Christ’s sake, I know you’re not okay, and you really shouldn’t be. Please, talk to me.

What am I supposed to say that you don’t already know? He slouched as the words came out, barely audible, cracking as if he had hardly enough breath to give them life. She held his hands tighter.

This isn’t the end of the world, she said. I know it seems like that, but it’s not, I swear. It’s just another hurdle, another obstacle that’s considerably less fatal than the last.

Except now I’m a killer.

No, you’re not. And you don’t have to be. I’ll teach you. I know I’m not a vampire but I’ve been around them long enough to know how it works.

It’s not just the blood.

It’s mostly the blood, though, isn’t it?

I’m not myself anymore.

Why not? She shook his arms as he said this, as his eyes drifted away from her. You still look like yourself, for the most part. You talk like you, you move like you, you probably still think like you, you definitely still act like you. Just because you went from witch to vampire doesn’t mean you went from Dante to someone else.

And what happens? he said, a touch of rage in his voice though it was drowned out by his sadness. When I smell blood? Do I stay myself then? What becomes of Dante Reich when he succumbs to bloodlust? Does he stick around? Because I’m not sure how I want that question answered.

If you don’t know what you’re doing, no, he won’t stick around, Gwen said. But it’s manageable. I can help you. I will be your first. You can’t go out in sunlight until you do, anyway.

At this Dante’s eyes shot wide, and he moved to pull his hands out of hers. She held tight, though. She couldn’t let him go. He didn’t try again, but shook his head.

No, he said. I won’t do that.

It would help you in more ways than one. I could show you what blood is like, I can teach you to stop when you need to, and once you’ve had your first bite from me, you’ll never be able to kill me. I can show you how to control yourself while restoring your ability to walk in the sun and feel normal. Please, I can help you.

I can’t bite you! he said, his eyes now wide and desperate. Don’t you get what that will make me?

A killer? No, you’re not going to kill me. A bloodsucker? There are plenty of those in the animal kingdom, and plenty others who have a worse rep. So what does that make you, Dante? And why is it so bad?

I won’t.

You wait too long and you won’t have a choice.

I don’t care. I won’t.

Gwen sighed. He wasn’t going to give in. She felt bad, but there was one sure way to get him to cooperate. She just wasn’t entirely sure it was any better than what Phineas had done. Maybe she empathized with him more than she’d like to admit.

I’m really sorry about this, she said. But you’re not giving me a choice.

With that, she focused on her index. That was all she needed to change, just the one finger, make it a claw, sharp enough to break the skin. She’d done it before with Isaac, when she’d wanted something from him. It was almost automatic now. The finger changed the moment she willed it, and she let go of Dante’s wrist just long enough to slice her arm before Dante even realized what she was doing.

She looked to Dante the moment blood surfaced. His eyes had gone wide, almost angry but mostly afraid. They grew even more as the smell hit him. She could almost see the gears clicking away in his head; the smell and the sight connected in his brain, and the new chemicals started to react. His raised eyebrows tilted back toward his temples as desperation took over. His breathing picked up and he swallowed hard.

Please, he said. But he didn’t finish his thought. So Gwen interpreted it as she liked.

She brought her arm up to his mouth, keeping it just far enough away that she could move and run if she needed to. The first time he bit her, he’d be able to kill her. Once they got past the first time, they’d be alright. She could train him, after that. They just had this one hurdle to jump.

He closed his eyes, as if he was about to move his head away. But his head only twitched before his nose settled over the wound, breathing it in slow. She watched his chest rise and fall at a snail’s pace, as if he were trying not to breath but couldn’t help it. His control was surprising, so she pushed him a little further.

A chill ran up her arm as she touched the wound to his lips. His breath caught, but he managed to keep his lips sealed. She waited until his breathing leveled out again, and pulled her wrist back. A few small drops of blood remained on his lips, and she waited in silence to see what, if anything, he’d do with them. It took him a little longer than she expected, but his tongue finally slipped out between the tight pressed line and cleaned the surface in a swipe.

She saw it hit him, then. A ripple ran through his body, and now the smell had a taste to go with it. He could fight it. They could sit here for hours and he would keep fighting it. But she couldn’t let him. Not if they were to make any progress. Not if he was to become himself again.

She brought the wound back to his mouth, this time smashing it there so that she forced his lips open. He didn’t resist this time. His hands flashed to her arm, wrapping around it in a vice grip, pulling her closer to his mouth. His lips encased the wound, sucking furiously to get more blood out. Of course the wound wasn’t big enough to satisfy the hunger. She just didn’t know if he would take the next step.

She could feel the frustration in his grip. The blood wasn’t coming fast enough, and he squeezed her arm harder as if to juice it out. And he was strong. It took a great effort on her part to not cry out, and instead to lean in and whisper encouragement.

If you want more, she said. Bite it.

His teeth opened up over her then, the fangs brushing her skin as the jaw unlocked. She was almost surprised he hadn’t hesitated, but then again, every vampire was the same. He tested her skin a moment, or tested his teeth, and finally clamped his jaw closed, his fangs breaking the surface with a novice tear that hurt a lot more than a vampire bite should. She gasped, but tried to keep it to herself. She didn’t want him to stop.

The blood rushed from her faster now. It pulled from her face, drained up from her toes, sucked away from the extremities. Everything moved to this one spot on her arm, making her lightheaded. But it was better than him biting her neck. The dizziness wasn’t too bad. She’d built up defenses against the effects of the venom from over the years. She could take it. Just a little while longer. Just a bit more blood.

She pulled away before she even realized it, shouting out as she did so and falling back. She hit the floor tailbone first and cried out from the shock that ran up her spine. But her tailbone didn’t matter. Dante stared down at her, eyes black.

Oh, he said, not quite focused on her.

She wanted to scramble back, away from the coal black eyes. But she couldn’t. Not because she was unable to move, but because she couldn’t allow herself to abandon him. Not like that.

Dante?

Her voice rocked something in him, and he took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he did so. When he exhaled, his eyes opened to reveal the blue-speckled gray iris behind. His jaw stayed tight, but at least he didn’t look like he might rip her throat out.

That was... He stopped as if searching for the word, but a new expression came over him. His eyebrows knotted and he looked to the floor, confused.

Good? Gwen asked, still on the floor, still worried.

Not satisfying, he said. He thought about it a moment, then looked back to Gwen. I feel empty.

His hand drifted toward his stomach. Gwen brought her knees up to her chest and shuffled her feet around under her.

That’s normal, she said. That is very, extremely, one-hundred percent normal.

I don’t like it.

She took a deep breath, her brain running through her options as quick as possible. She could let him have more blood. He couldn’t kill her now. She’d let Isaac have too much blood enough to know what happened if he got too close to killing her. It sucked, and it took both of them a long time to recover, but she could do it. That might be enough to turn him off, to make him not want to fill that void in his stomach which would eternally be there. But Dante was better than that. At least, the Dante she knew. He wasn’t a dog. He was a man with a brain, and could damn well use it.

It’s always going to feel like that, she said. The only way you could ever feel full is if you kept killing. One after another after another.

That doesn’t sound so bad.

Shut up, Dante, you know it does. You don’t want to jump from person to person like that. You’re not a humming bird. You can survive for a couple weeks with what I just gave you.

It feels awful, he said, grimacing and taking a step back, his hand still over his stomach. Don’t tell me I have to feel eternally hungry.

You get used to it.

I don’t want to get used to it.

Then don’t! She’d said it before she thought of how to