Elizabeth stared. “That’s impossible. You can’t-”
“We can,” Valerica said. “If it’s what you want. There will be questions and rumors. Ugly rumors. Are you sure-”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said firmly. She bit her lip as Valerica moved toward the coyote. “Are you going to kill it?”
“She’s paralyzed. She won’t feel anything.” Valerica hesitated. “The spell will work better if we both…”
Elizabeth ’s hand closed over her own. They slit the coyote’s throat together, making the death as swift as possible.
“How?” Elizabeth asked.
“The coyote lived a long life, and carried many litters.” She wiped most of the blood from the razor. Blood sank into the engraving on the ivory handle, highlighting the initials G. L. B. Gary L. Bemis, Elizabeth ’s husband, who had died of influenza several years earlier.
Elizabeth pulled out a lace-trimmed handkerchief and began wiping the blood from her hand. “Is all magic so bloody for a strigoi viu?”
Valerica dropped the razor. “Where did you hear that term?”
“You whisper in your sleep sometimes,” Elizabeth said. She put her clean hand on Valerica’s shoulder. “When the nightmares take you. What does it mean?”
She stooped to retrieve the razor, never meeting Elizabeth ’s gaze. “The words are Romanian, the title for a child of power.” Not a lie, but far from the truth. “You may wish to turn away.”
Without waiting for a response, Valerica knelt and sliced open the coyote’s stomach and chest. She peeled back the skin and cracked the ribs, shoving organs aside until she exposed the pink of the uterus.
To Elizabeth ’s credit, she never averted her eyes. She was pale and sweating as Valerica used the razor to reopen the nick on her palm, but when it was Elizabeth ’s turn, she held her hand steady for the cut.
They clasped hands, pressing together until their palms and fingers grew slick, and blood dripped onto the coyote.
Blood burns with power. Jaw tight, she ignored the words, repeated so often by her father in another land, another life.
“How does it work?” Elizabeth whispered. “Which one of us will-” Her eyes widened, and her free hand went to her stomach.
Valerica grinned and put her own hand over Elizabeth ’s. “You will.”
Elizabeth ’s face was like the morning sun, burning away Valerica’s fears. “I can feel her,” she whispered, her voice soft with awe. “Valerica, it’s a her. Bill’s going to have a sister.”
For nine months, Valerica had known joy. She deluded herself into believing she could violate the laws of God and never suffer. She and Elizabeth had created life. They had done no harm. Surely God would bless a child born in such love.
Alina was born in winter. Elizabeth lost consciousness shortly after the contractions began. She never woke up.
The quarter moon provided enough light for Valerica to make her way back to the stamp mill. After checking to be sure it was abandoned, she crept inside.
Even in the darkness, she had no trouble finding Jim Daley’s blood. It called to her, stirring memories of that day with Elizabeth, the way the blood had coated her arms like a second skin.
Someone had washed away the worst of the blood, but enough remained, clotted in the cracks between the planks. Valerica opened her penny knife and used the blade to dig up clumps of bloody dirt, which she sprinkled in a small circle.
When she had enough, she pulled out a dented silver rattle, tarnished where Alina had gnawed on it. Giving the rattle a quick kiss, she placed it in the center of the circle.
An observer would have seen nothing. At most, one would hear a faint ringing as the rattle rolled to one side. Valerica picked it up, feeling a soft tug at her hand. She stood, wincing at the cramps in her legs. Outside, a glance at the moon told her only an hour had passed, but her muscles were tight and knotted.
She ignored the pain as the rattle led her uphill, past the miners’ main camp. She stopped behind the cooking tent when she realized where Alina must be.
A place of darkness, where screams would go unheard. A place where one could work magic, unseen by the eyes of God and men.
Up ahead, the entrance to the Red Eagle Silver Mine was an open mouth, laughing as it waited to swallow her in darkness.
The cabin door was still ripped asunder when Valerica returned for supplies. Candlelight flickered inside. Valerica hesitated, but there was no trace of new magic. “Who’s there?” she called.
Bill stepped into the doorway. “Now don’t get all sore, Aunt V. I know you said to stay away, but-”
“No.” Valerica stepped past him. She opened her trunk and grabbed a dark jacket, a handful of candles, and some matches. “Go back to the church.”
“Jim Daley’s body is down there, along with some whore who got herself stabbed.” He tried to act nonchalant, but Valerica saw him shiver. “They say she’s the third one this month.”
She nodded, unsurprised. “You can’t stay here. Return to town, and-”
“No.” He folded his arms, and Valerica had to fight back tears. Standing like that, jaw clamped with determination, Bill was the shadow of his mother. “I want to help you find my sister. She’s in the mine, isn’t she?”
“How did you-?” Valerica swore. Alina’s rattle had come from Elizabeth. No doubt it was the same one Bill had used as a baby. Valerica’s spell must have called to him, too. “You’re not coming.”
“It’s my fault she’s gone,” Bill insisted. “Let me help!”
“Bill, please.” She forced the coldness from her voice. “The man who took Alina is worse than a murderer. He’s probably the one who killed those prostitutes.” The more blood he harvested, the greater his power.
“What does he want with Alina?”
Valerica closed her eyes. He would take Alina to live among the dead. He would teach her power others never imagined. He would give her the strength to defeat death, and he would damn her forever. He would make her strigoi viu, as he had done to Valerica. And he would use her to control Valerica, to punish her for her disobedience. “Let me worry about Alina. If you interfere, you will join Jim Daley.”
“He didn’t kill me before,” Bill said.
Only because I would have sensed your death and come running. “You should thank God for your good fortune. If you return willingly to his grasp, he will make you beg for death.”
Bill reached behind his back and drew a Bowie knife. The blade was twice the length of his hand. “I’d like to see him try.”
“Where did you get that?”
“Don’t matter. You didn’t expect it, and neither will the bastard who took my sis.”
Valerica grabbed his arms and shoved him against the wall. Years of working in the mill had strengthened her muscles, so she barely noticed Bill’s weight. His dangling feet kicked her shins, and the knife point pricked her side, but she ignored it. Her right hand held him pinned. Her left twisted the knife from his hand and stabbed it into the wall beside his ear.
Bill’s face was white. He was breathing so quick he couldn’t talk. His panicked gasps reminded her of the coyote, right before she and Elizabeth had killed it.
“I know you love Alina,” she said. “But this man will eat your heart while your blood is still hot. The only way I can save Alina is by destroying him. Alone.”
“Who-” Bill swallowed and tried again, but the words didn’t come.
“My father,” Valerica said. As a child, she had been too weak and afraid to fight back, choosing instead to flee. Had she fought, he would have killed her…and Elizabeth would still be alive.
“What kind of man-”
“He is strigoi mort,” Valerica said. “Living dead.”
What she would become after her own passing.
Valerica had never won an argument with Elizabeth when she set her mind to something, and Bill was his mother’s son.