Wraiths and Warlocks (The Blood Witch Saga Book 7) by Theophilus Monroe

Author:Theophilus Monroe [Monroe, Theophilus]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2023-03-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Holland came with me. So did the two Loa. When you have death deities coming to visit, it's good to have a specialist on hand. I took Ellie's truck. Ellie rode with Annabelle in her sparkly purple Camaro.

The truck wasn't meant to sit four, but Holland and the dead hosts taken by Baron Samedi and Nibo were petite. So long as they didn’t crowd into the stick shifter, I could manage.

I hadn't heard from Dracula all night. Tommy texted and said he was in the house. Connor was there, too. I didn't know if Connor could see him. He could see wraiths, but if Dracula was an actual ghost, he couldn't. Whatever the case, leaving Connor in the house with nothing but my young progeny and a half-baked Sarah to defend him if Dracula got thirsty made me anxious.

I pushed that old farm truck as hard as I could. The thing needed a serious tune-up. At the very least, it was probably due for an oil change. At least it ran well enough to get us from point A to point B. With only a few minutes until sunrise, I couldn't risk a breakdown. If we stalled out on the side of the road, I'd have no choice but to bury myself in the ground. I'd done it a few times before. There's no worse way to spend a day than in a makeshift grave.

The sun was just cracking on the horizon when I pulled up in front of Casa do Diabo. I'd normally be more hospitable and casually let my deathly guests through the door first. Steam was already rising from my skin. Burning vampire flesh doesn't produce a pleasing fragrance. It wasn't enough to leave any wounds or scars, but every second mattered. I blasted through the front door. If Baron Samedi thought I was being rude, tough. He made me this way.

Once everyone was inside, Holland locked the front door. Dracula was seated at my dinner table. He didn't appear as a ghost. He was sipping on a glass of red wine—or perhaps some freshly drained blood. Ghosts don't eat and drink. Not from glasses, anyway.

Dracula smiled at me widely. "Good morning."

I turned to Connor, who was seated at the table. "You can see him?"

"Of course I can."

I rubbed my forehead. This wasn't the first time a ghost had materialized in something like a body. Julie Brown, Mercy's half-sister in life and a caplata, had taken a body despite being a ghost. How many more people did he drain overnight to accomplish it? I didn't know and at the time I didn't want to know. Did he stick to our agreement and limit his consumption to scoundrels and criminals? Probably not, but I knew he'd lie to me if I asked.

Dracula saw the two Loa beside me. He stood and tilted his head. Then he looked at me. "You turned them?"

"We are not who we appear," Baron Samedi said. "I am the maker of your maker and every maker before.

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