Page 103 of A Bond with the Dark

What if they have Nightshade?

What if he was decapitated?

How else can Vampires die?

Pacing my house for the hundredth time, I recheck the phone.

Still waiting for new messages.

The message screen is pulled up on my phone while I wait for the little bubbles to show that he’s texting. The last message is up, saying:

I’m about to go inside. I love you.

Now, I wait for what seems like hours for him to let me know he’s okay.

These are dangerous criminals that he’s going up against.

But he’s a vampire. A killer. With strength and wit and an ability to lull people into calmness. He’s seemingly unassailable.

I shouldn’t be this worried about him.

As the time ticks by, my heart races faster and faster.

Was the protection spell I did good enough?

Can you protect vampires with magick?

Of course, you can.I answer my own thoughts resolutely. I protect him from the sun with his necklace.

Maybe I didn’t do a strong enough one. Maybe I should’ve spelled some more jewelry, a ring or something.

Time itself has stopped. I don’t know why I’m so worried about him anyway; he always does this.

Doesn’t he?

The nerves within me feel as though they’re mush. Every muscle is tense, and there’s a tingling sensation in my arms that I can’t shake. Every time I look at the phone, seeing no new messages burns me, dissonance in contention with conviction, reason frayed with doubt.

When my phone rings, it’s like an elixir for my burns, a soothing agent to calm the serrated nerves the last hour and a half have caused.

Dom’s name flashes on the screen.

Pressing the green answer button, I say, “Hey. You okay? It’s been so long.”

“I’m good,” he says, though the tension in his voice reminds me of a doused star. “I’ll be there soon. I wanted to tell you I’m all right.”

Feeling that my insides are as thin as a drum, I can sense that whatever it is, he doesn’t want to talk about it over the phone.

It must be what he feels after he kills someone.

I let it go for now, knowing it’s more than that.

“All right. Drive safe. I’m proud of you.”

Silence.

Remembering what he said about sometimes taking on the personality of the person he kills, I figure these rigid and severe vibes I’m getting are from the man he killed and not from him himself.

“I love you?” I say, questioning in my tone.

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