Immortal Chocolate (a vampire novel)

Part 11

Chapter 6

We danced around the room, him trying to stab me with his toothpick, while I avoided it.

He finally panted in frustration. “I’d planned this revenge much more smooth, you were supposed to drink the wine.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” I eyed him critically, deciding what was going to happen from here. “Listen, Lawrence, it wasn’t supposed to go down like that. I didn’t know how to control myself back then. You have a life now, settle down, have a family, live!” Was my pep talk working? I hoped so, because I did feel bad about killing this psychopath.

“Do you know what he made me?” He flickered between human and ghostly-thing. “I’m not alive and I’m not dead. I’m not a vampire—not a werewolf—ghost—or human. I’m an it. I’m in-between death and life—living in a place where I can see tortured souls and living souls. I’d rather have died that day. Freeing myself of you, may bring my curse to an end.”

I stared at him. “Are you an idiot?”

“What?” The question took him by surprise. But seriously, he thought killing me would end this mumbo-jumbo of a curse that his father had put on him?

“You need a lobotomy if you think killing me will cure you of this.” I pointed to him, my fangs retracting. “How about you leave me alone, and I’ll find a way to make you a real dead thing—or a real living thing. I know a few people.” I thought about the couple witches I’d met in my city, they avoided me, but they still respected me enough to hear me out.

“How can I trust you?” he whispered, his dark eyes dancing with confusion in what to do.

“You can’t, but you used to. I truly am sorry, I loved you, Lawrence, I really did.” I think he saw it in my face, because his hand fell to his side, the stake clattering to the ground. He broke down sobbing, hitting the floor without a sound, his face buried in his hands. Poor guy. I’d effed him up good. I’d go hunt down a witch or two and come back and fix my ancient mistake.

“Iva…” he whispered my name, and I heard tortured pain ripple through his voice. “Iva…”

I came over to him, compassion squeezing up in me.

“I’ll be back.” I touched his cheek and ran out the door, my red hair fluttering in the wind.

The city turned into one big blobby blur as I raced past building after building, looking for a tiny shop I’d visited twice. When I’d opened up Sweet Bites an old hag had come into my shop, and we’d immediately known what each other were. We hadn’t talked about it, except that she left a large tip in my jar, and a warning in her eye. I knew if I ever got out of control she’d be there to clean up my mess—or take me out—not sure which. Witches didn’t really intimidate me, but they did hold some power, I’d give them that.

I stopped suddenly; a tiny bright purple building loomed before me. I cautiously made my way inside, the open sign flickering with an eerie glow.

“Hello?” I called. A presence filled the room, and I knew she was watching me. “Hi, I just need some advice if that’s no trouble!” I waited, feeling the atmosphere shudder with her.

“Yes?” she called, and stepped into the dimly lit room, her eyes locked onto me.

“I’m sorry,” I said, taking a step forward toward her. She took a hasty one back, and I paused. “I have a great favor to ask of you, Ma’am.”

“Vesta, my name is Vesta,” she said in a thick accented voice.

“I’m Iva, I just need to talk to you, may we?”