Page 38 of The Neighborhood Vampire

“How about we all calm down?” Hugo said. “Maybe we should walk away for now and think about this later.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Sebastian said.

Alice lowered her arm and dissipated the flame.

Sebastian stood. “We’ll give you some time to think it over. Until you decide, we won’t do anything to anyone. You have our word.”

Sylvia glared at Alice, never taking her eyes off her. She stood and joined her husband. “You have our card. We expect to hear from you shortly.”

They turned and strutted toward the entrance.

Alice and Hugo stood and followed them, never letting them out of their sight. The Savinos left the store and entered their SUV, taking off.

“What do you plan on doing?” Hugo asked.

Alice paused. “I don’t know.” She turned to Hugo, locking eyes with him. “But I do know they’ll never get the spell as long as I live.”

Chapter 10

Check

Alice stood alone in her wine cellar with her arms crossed and a hand placed on her chin. She was lost in thought, staring off at the stone wall behind her workstation. Shadows from the candlelight danced on the stone wall. The room was dim, as if she didn’t want any spirits to see what she was doing.

Thoughts raced through her mind. The emotions of the past few days had finally caught up to her. She wanted to run. She wanted to hide. She wanted to fight. She wanted to take out the Savinos.

Alice couldn’t act or speak. She was lost in a sea of confusion and anxiety as she contemplated her next move. The pieces on the chessboard had been in motion without her knowledge, and now it was finally her turn to make a move. She was at a loss of what to do.

Alice’s eyes focused on a single stone in the wall. The only stone in the wall holding a secret. It was more than a secret—it was a curse. It had ruined many lives. It had caused devastation and destruction. So many lives lost. She only wished she could have destroyed it.

Why did she have to carry the burden? She never asked for it. She didn’t want it. It was thrust upon her. Her grandmother knew itshistory. Her grandmother knew what it meant for her to carry this throughout her life. Why did her grandmother give it to her?

Alice sighed.

She approached her workstation and snapped her fingers. The stone in the wall opened. Inside the wooden box was her terrible curse. She pulled out the box and set it amongst the mortars and pestles neatly organized on her workstation. She opened the lid and pulled out the spell scroll.

It was worn and yellowed with age. No one knew how old it was. Its architect was lost to time. Its ultimate power remained unknown. All Alice knew was a portion of the spell worked.

She wouldn’t be standing there if not for her desire to make the spell with Hugo. If not for his quick thinking, she would have died at the hands of Johanna Newes.

Alice unfurled the scroll, reading its components over and over. She tried to commit them to memory, but as soon as she removed her eyes from the arcane words, all knowledge of them were gone. The spells protection so it couldn’t fall into the wrong hands . . . or be made with the wrong individual.

Her memories slipped back to a time when she first made a promise, when she swore her oath of protection.

“My sweet,Allie, let me look at you,” the old woman said. “You’re all grown up. Give your old grandma a hug.”

“Hi, Grandma Bee,” an eighteen-year-old Alice Primrose said as she wrapped her arms around the flowing dress of the woman.

Beatrice ‘Bee’ Hawthorn was tall and slender. The colorful, floral print dress brushed against the ground. A sharp contrast to Alice’s tight-fitting, black clothes. She was in her late 60s with wild, naturally gray hair. Her fingers were filled with various colorful rings, and her wrists were wrapped in beaded bracelets.

“I love what you’ve done with your hair,” Bee said as she ran her fingers through Alice’s hair. “It’s so vibrant.”

“Thank you. Purple is my favorite color, so I thought, ‘why not?’”

“What does your mom think?”

Alice hesitated, her eyes drifting as if she was trying to find a diplomatic answer. “She doesn’t like it. She wants to know why I would ruin my perfectly good black hair.”

“Don’t listen to her. You keep being you, no matter what,” Bee said. “Got me?”

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