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House of Shadows
Enchantment in Crimson
~ Book One ~

A Dark Adventure of
Dangerous Enchantments

***

- Two -
Fortuneteller

Rowan shoved open the heavy door marked: "Employees Only" with one hand. She pushed with her shoulder, wrestling with her large black brocade shoulder bag and grabbing at her long, pitch-black, ground-sweeping coat to avoid trapping the hem at her boot-heels in the closing door.

She wove her way through the crowd while nodding in time to the familiar brooding and violently loud music. It was a typically crowded Friday night at the club Gothic Noire. As usual, she had to practically shove her way across the main room, heading toward her fortune-telling booth. It was on the other side of the dance floor near the Main Entrance door. Waves and smiles greeted her from patrons in varying outfits of plastic, leather and black fishnet. They swarmed, conversed, smoked and drank while endeavoring to look both sexy and intimidating. The music was loud and throbbed with deep rich inflections. The air was scented with clove smoke from all the black cigarettes.

While passing the long bar she smiled at the two harried, handsome and barely dressed, bartenders. Stopping briefly, she gave a quick, passing hug to Tony, the big, gruff club manager then continued deeper into the club, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. She spared a glance in the ornate mirror behind the bar. Rhinestones twinkled in the smoked metal, headband that held her waist-length, pin-straight copper mane back from her brow. She stopped and took a moment to tuck an errant lock back into the glittering band then continued onward.

As she passed the far edge of the bar, Rowan felt a shimmer of otherworldly chill. That feels a little like magic and death. She stopped on the edge of the dance floor and looked over at the very end of the bar. Holy shit, Rowan thought in astonishment. There should be a law against a guy being that beautiful.

A blindingly handsome, young man was sitting on one of the barstools nursing an imported beer. His dark, straight hair was pulled back into a tight tail that fell over his shoulder and brushed his forearm. His pale, chiseled face was pared to the bone showing fine, sharp features and full lips that belonged on the cover of a pulp vampire novel.

He turned slightly and saw her. His pale brown eyes seemed to collect the light from around him, reflecting a soft shimmering, green the way a cat does in the shadows. Slowly he twisted around in his stool and looked her full in the face.

His silky, sleeveless, black shirt framed his broad shoulders while showing off the ropes of muscle in his arms then hugged his flat stomach and narrow waist. The black leather pants he wore looked as though they had been tailored to fit. A long typically Goth, coat was flung over the bar. He smiled.

Rowan felt her heart thump in reaction and the warm roil of her libido sitting up and taking notice. This one is definitely too pretty for anyone's good, she thought in bittersweet admiration then realized that the cool brush of subtle danger emanated from him. She gave him a tight smile then sharply turned on her heel and marched toward the small, corner booth on the other side of the dance floor.

I am not running away, she told her fast beating heart. I just don't have time for incredibly cute, metaphysical weirdness. I have work to do. A glance in the mirrors behind the bar showed that he was watching her. She walked away and felt her body clench in greedy longing. Ahem, brain to sex-drive - we already have a 'too cute for his own good' boy-diva, she told herself sternly. She bit her lip and climbed the three small steps that led to her corner, set-aside for the house fortuneteller. We don't need another potential heartbreak.

Rowan dropped her black leather satchel on the curved, red plastic bench of her semi-private booth. She shrugged out of her long coat and straightened her long, beaded black skirts. She pulled her silver pentacle from where it had tucked itself into her corset then adjusted the black fishnet that stretched across the pushed-up fullness of her cleavage. The deep black velvet of the tightly laced, Victorian style, corset accentuated her unusually narrow waist and framed her rounded hips.

Tugging at her full beaded shirts, she settled into the booth then pushed the fishnet sleeves up to her forearms. Time to set up shop…She opened her satchel then laid out the tools of her trade. A red velvet cloth covered the small, bare and drink-stained table. A small gargoyle holding a short squat red candle, her oversized, Tarot sign along and the small, freestanding, pricing list completed her setting. Rowan pulled her set of tarot cards from the sandalwood box. She was open for business.

A flurry of friends came in and Rowan was kept busy for a long while. She smiled and counseled as needed, bestowing congratulations or comforting hugs to soften emotional bruises delivered by her readings -- and pocketing the cash. It wouldn't pay the rent, but it would keep her in cigarettes and gas between paychecks.

The stream of friends and new patrons finally died down and Rowan was able to sip at her ginger ale in relative quiet. Every last one of her readings had involved someone's love life, which of course depressingly brought to mind her own. Plenty of sex, not one drop of real affection... She grimaced. I need a hobby that doesn't involve men.

She stood up in her booth and signaled one of the waiters that she needed another soda. Catching sight of her reflection, in a small smoked mirror by the opposite bench she leaned over and absently checked her make-up. Hmm, I've been talking all this time, might want to put on a bit more lipstick...

She slid back into her booth, settled her skirts then dug her small purse out of her satchel. She reached in and pulled out her compact. A small, framed photo slid from her bag. It hit the corner of the table with a crack of breaking glass then fell to the floor. A shiver of foreboding raced up her spine. Someone is coming. Someone I don't want to see.

Looking carefully under her table, she found the photo of her current boyfriend lying in a small pile of shattered glass. She picked the fallen photo out of the glass and frowned. A sharp shard of glass had gouged a long tear though the picture's mouth. Instinctively she understood what the symbolic rip meant.

Lies...

Suddenly another shiver skimmed up her spine, raising the hairs on her arms. Trouble is coming and if the photo is any indication, it's probably him that's going to bring it.

There was a heavy thump on the stairs to her booth.

She closed her eyes. "Please, don't be him. Please, make it somebody else. I don't want to deal with this tonight." She opened her eyes to find her boyfriend glowering from the side of her table.

"We need to talk," he said, practically spitting the words out.

"I am working, can it wait?" Whatever the hell he wanted, she just knew it was going to be ugly. He wasn't supposed to stop by until after she'd finished working the club, but his short hair was slicked back with gel and his designer clothes were neatly pressed. Rowan frowned. Do I smell beer on his breath, and cologne?

"You're using me -- for sex!" His hand cracked down on her table. "You, and your witchcraft!"

She raised her brow and slowly stood up. "This is a public place, can't you wait to shout at me in private?"

His face turned an ugly mottled red. "You're not a witch, you're a god-damned vampire!"

"I'll take that to be a: no, you want to have a shouting match right here," she said softly. Over his shoulder she caught a glimpse of one of the larger bouncers making his way toward her booth. Behind him, the cute gothic hunk at the bar was standing and watching.

"You screw me every time you use your magic, and suck me so dry that I can't..."

Her eyes shot to her boyfriend's and narrowed. "Can't what?" She could feel the truth hovering unsaid in his mouth. Wait a damned minute, I've heard this complaint before... And that's not cologne, that's some girl's perfume. Her lips curled up in a sour smile. "Let me guess, you just got back from playing with some other chick and you couldn't get it up."

His face went bone white, then red. He jabbed a finger toward her. "Because you sucked everything out of me, like the damned vampire you are!"

"You weren't complaining last night!" she shot back. "Now get out of my club."

He jerked back. "What?"

"You want to go screw other people? Fine, go do it." She flung a hand out and pointed toward the door. She watched the thoughts race across his face. Apparently, he hadn't meant to admit that he was sleeping around which meant that he hadn't meant to get thrown out of her bed either.

She snorted. Idiot...

"Look, I don't mean that the way it sounded," he said as though in apology. "Your the best I ever..."

"Best ride that you ever had? I know." Her smile was feral. "And now you can forget about ever having it again."

He frowned. "Did you just curse me?"

She hadn't, of course. "Sure," she said out of pure spite. "And if you don't want you dick to fall off, you'll get the hell out of my club, and never show your piss-ant face here again."

"You bitch," he snarled. He turned on his heel and stalked toward the door.

Rowan watched the bouncer meet him on the floor. He spoke a few soft words then escorted her band-new ex-boyfriend out.

She swiped a hand across her cheek, wiping away a tear she refused to acknowledge. "Damn, now I have to find another boyfriend." Rowan raised her ginger ale and frowned at the pale gold soda her glass. A pity alcohol kills my talent; I could really use a beer right now. Absently, she swiped at the chill moisture on her other cheek. She dug a black cigarette from the pack.

"Cheating moron…"

Her lighter clicked. She lit the clove then exhaled the sweet smoke. "I really need to find a guy that's older and less stupid," she muttered softly then sighed. You'd think the library would attract a smarter selection of guys. She shook her head. I have got to stop using work to pick up men when I need to get laid. I'm so sick and tired of insecure idiots that can't handle my being a witch. She sipped at her ginger ale. I definitely need a vaguely decent man in my life… Her eyes drifted back over to the unsettling hunk at the bar. Or a distraction...

He had turned his back to her and was chatting with a small group of enthusiastic girls in black plastic, fishnet and heavy eyeliner. Stools were dragged over and he shifted to make room for them.

Rowan frowned, mulling over the impressions that she was picking up from his presence. He can't be what I think he is… Even from this far away she could feel the shimmer of disquiet that drifted from him. There's no such thing. She shook her head. I'm going to need to check the cards for this.

Rowan focused on the guy at the edge of the bar and shuffled her tarot cards. Okay, is he or isn't he? Two cards slipped through her fingers, the Ace of Swords, yes, and the Devil, subtitled: the Vampire.

So this guy really is a vampire. She made a sour face. Terrific. There's a for-real vampire sitting at the bar in with all the vampire wan'na-bees. She smiled tightly. Talk about protective coloring.

Jennifer, her tastefully made up face wreathed with a deep scarlet smile, came thumping up the tiny staircase in her shiny, black plastic, platform boots. She practically danced with excitement into the circular booth.

"I just met this really gorgeous guy and you have to tell me all about him!"

Jennifer's earnest, deep blue eyes were framed with heavy black eyeliner and dark blue shadow that would have looked atrocious on anyone else.

"Anything for you Jenn." Rowan smiled and pulled her long black skirts to one side, making room for Jennifer on the red plastic seat of the booth. Terrific, another love-life reading…

Jennifer giggled, struggling to sit in her exquisitely short, super tight, red plastic skirt. Daintily, she crossed her legs, exposing a long line of trim, black fishnet encased thigh.

Rowan shuffled the oversized cards then spread them across the table. "How detailed a reading can I give you?"

Jennifer leaned over the small table, her breasts swelling over the neckline of her sheer black blouse. "Just a quickie, I want to know if this guy is, well… You know."

Rowan's brows shot up. "You want to know if he's 'The One'?" She smiled and shook her head. Jeeze, how many times do I get asked this question? When are they going to learn, there is no such thing as a One True Love?

"Well, um." Jennifer licked her artfully painted lips and darted a look over her shoulder, tossing her short and stylish, bright blond bob that curled around her ears. "Yeah, is this guy the one for me?" She smiled then bit into her painted lip.

Rowan let her draw five cards at random then set them in her Answer spread. Center card, the Devil; subtitled: the Vampire, meaning manipulation and compulsion. Uh, oh. This guy is a user. The card on the right was the Page of Wands. Well that pretty much describes Jennifer, immature and talkative. The card on the left was the Tower, subtitled: the Dragon, meaning personal and possibly mental destruction. Definitely not good... Crossing at her feet was the Seven of Swords, meaning lies and theft. Oh boy, he doesn't just use them, he throws them away. The very last card at the root or outcome: Temperance, subtitled: the Alchemist, also known as the Physician, indicating a visit to the hospital. Oh, shit.

Rowan blinked, realizing what she was looking at. She had seen this same exact set of cards in this layout with a few of her friends before. She had ended up visiting each of them in the hospital a few days later for shock and blood-loss. Shit, shit, shit...

According to the tarot cards, Jennifer was the vampire's next intended victim.

Rowan glanced over at the vampire and noticed that the crowd of Goth girls had left him alone, surrounded by empty stools. He had put on a long coat and was obviously waiting for someone. He turned and peered into her booth.

He's looking at Jennifer... Rowan nibbled on her lip, wondering what to say. Being the Goth chick she is, if I tell Jennifer that he's a vampire she'll beg him to turn her into one. He'll probably kill her instead for knowing what he is, after finding out that it was me that told her. I do not need a pissed off vampire after me, but I am not visiting another friend in the hospital either.

Rowan caught Jennifer's eye and held it. "Jenn, you are in danger. I really think you should go home early and not tell anyone that you are leaving."

Jennifer's scarlet mouth fell open in shock. "What?" She blinked her bright blue eyes. "But there's this guy I just met, that's why I'm having you do this reading. He's -- "

Rowan cut her off. "According to my cards, the guy you just met is a rapist." She cringed inwardly. She was bending the truth. An outright lie was a serious no-no and would cost her divination talents for a least a week. Vampire, rapist, there's not a whole lot of difference. She tapped the cards with a finger. "If you stay, you will leave with this guy and you will end up in the hospital." That was the truth.

"But..." Jennifer's eyes dart to the bar then back. "Are you sure?"

Damn it, Jennifer is already hooked on this guy. Rowan sighed inwardly. "It's your choice to ignore my warning, but how often have I been wrong?"

"As far. I know, never." Jennifer frowned. "But he's so cute." She was of course, referring to the vampire, who was painfully cute.

Rowan bit back her frustration. "Of course he is." She smiled coldly. "It makes it easier to find people willing to walk out with him."

Jennifer bit her lip. "But he seemed so nice."

"Of course he did." Rowan grit her teeth, but kept smiling. Jennifer was proving stubborn. "The last thing he wants to do is alert his victim as to what's in store for them." Time to press the point. She trapped Jennifer's wide-eyed gaze with her own. "Jenn, I told Donner and Tess the same exact thing last month. They chose to ignore me."

Jennifer locked on the one thing guaranteed to catch her attention. "Donner? He does guys too?"

Rowan nodded solemnly. "Rapists don't really care who they hurt."

Jennifer leaned forward in her chair. "Donner is in the psych ward," she whispered.

Is that a chink in Jennifer's armor? Rowan leaned across the table, closer to Jennifer. "Yes, he is. And this guy put him there."

"You're sure?" Jennifer's lower lip was trembling. "That it's this guy?"

"Absolutely." Rowan nodded firmly. "These are your choices: leave now and avoid the whole thing or stay and wake up in the hospital, possibly the psych ward. Game over."

Jennifer bit her lip. "All right, I'll leave." She sniffed and there was a shimmer of tears in her eyes. "Just let me tell Susan --"

Rowan shook her head. "No, don't tell Susan that you're leaving." Jennifer and Susan were best friends and fierce rivals. Both were about the same height with similar blond bobs and style of dress. The only real difference was that Susan was a little more aggressive in her approach to men.

"Remember," Rowan continued, "Susan probably thinks he's cute too."

Jennifer bared her teeth. "That's right. If Susan knows I've left the field open, she'll go straight for him."

Rowan felt the sudden swell of jealousy boil up in Jennifer. Oops got 'a nip that in the bud. She placed a hand over Jennifer's. "Jenn, if you tell her that you're leaving and she goes after this guy, she'll end up in the hospital and it will be your fault."

Jennifer's eyes flew wide. "Oh."

"Why don't you tell Susan that you have to make a call, then just don't come back? You can always tell her tomorrow that you had a minor emergency and had to leave. This way she won't make a bee-line for the rapist."

Jennifer tilted her head to one side. "Um…" Her eyes slid to the vampire at the bar. She bit her heavily painted lip then looked at Rowan with indecision. "Are you really, really sure it's this guy?"

Jeeze, Jenn and her appetite for cute guys... Rowan closed her hand around Jennifer's. "It's your choice Jenn, but I really don't want to visit you in the hospital. Or the psych ward..."

"I don't want people to think I'm crazy, Jennifer whispered.

Let's apply a nail to that coffin. Rowan smiled sadly at Jennifer. "Jenn, no one thinks they're crazy, just a little unconnected with reality." Which is to say, they think they're crazy. "Tell you what, go visit Donner and Tess tomorrow and ask them what the guy looked like. They'll tell you."

Jennifer's cheeks blanched. She rose from her chair. "All right, I'm going."

"Good girl." Rowan rose with her and gave her a hug. "I just don't want anything to happen to my favorite Jennifer."

Jennifer hugged her back. "I'm the only Jennifer you know." She smiled and slid from Rowan's embrace.

"That doesn't make you any less my favorite." Rowan squeezed her hand then let her go with a lopsided grin. "Take care of yourself sweet-heart."

Jennifer smiled back then darted a nervous look over her shoulder. "Okay, I'm going." She nodded firmly then turned and left the booth. Jennifer's chin went up. She passed the vampire marching straight for Susan who was chatting with a weightlifter by the dance floor.

Okay, looks like she's going to do it. Let's see if she was smart enough to keep her mouth shut to Susan.

Susan and Jennifer exchanged words briefly then Jenn turned on her heel and marched for the front door. Rowan saw the vampire look up. Jennifer pulled her cell phone from her purse then walked out the front door with the phone jammed tight to her ear, without a single glance toward him.

Bravo Jenn! Rowan saw Susan drag the weightlifter onto the dance-floor, ignoring the vampire. Looks like Jenn kept quiet. She watched the vampire nurse his beer while watching the door.

Several long minutes passed and Jenn stayed gone. The vampire began showing obvious signs of building frustration.

Rowan couldn't help the self-satisfied grin on her face. That's right, you blood-sucking parasite, your meal ticket has left you high and dry. Rowan nodded to herself. Fortuneteller one point, vampire zero...

A little while later, Rowan had settled back in her booth with a fresh ginger ale after yet another 'love life' reading when she heard the "Main Entrance" door open behind her booth. An icy shiver crawled up her spine, making the hair on her arms stand up. That's an aura of bad magic. Her stomach did a slow, sickening turn for good measure. Really, bad magic… Frowning, she looked over toward the door. A very tall, very broad, completely bald, man in a dark suit stalked purposefully past her booth.

Rowan blinked. Her eyes were having trouble focusing on him. She frowned in concentration then confusion. Well, that's weird…

The man had two distinct shadows. One of them wasn't even remotely human in shape.

What the Hell is he? She squinted to blur her eyesight, focusing her inner-vision. Rays of light, sort of like heat curling from hot pavement, became immediately apparent. Okay, he's definitely magical… There was a hint of colors in the wavering rays but they looked wrong, a moldy gray-green and pus yellow. Ugh, that is really nasty magic... A sorcerer? Rowan absently shuffled her cards. What the hell am I looking at?

Three cards slipped through her fingers and settled on the table. The Hermit, subtitled: the Scientist, meaning solitary or secret knowledge, and the Magician; control over forces. The last card was the Hanged Man, the willing sacrifice, meaning a quest for dangerous knowledge. Yep, that's a sorcerer all right, and he is definitely up to no good.

She slid the cards back in the deck and watched the sorcerer make his ponderous way across the dance floor. On every side, dancers shifted to avoid him, unconsciously making a path across.

What the Hell is that second shadow from? Another pair of cards slid through her fingers onto the table; the Devil; manipulation and the Tower; destructive force.

Demonic possession?

The Ace of swords just about leapt from the deck. Yes.

She slid the three cards back in the deck. The Hanged Man proves that if he's housing an actual demon, the sorcerer is a willing participant. Either way, what the Hell is it doing in here?

The Empress with her display of bounty slid to the table. Rowan eyed the card. The Empress means procreation. Nothing hit the table. She continued to shuffle. I guess he's not looking for a date. Wait, the Empress also means food.

The Ace of Swords slid to the tabletop once again. Yes.

Rowan raised her brow. Food? So he's looking for a meal... Hmm, according to my books, demons are supposed to feed on the souls of the corrupt. Gee, let's see. Who has the most corrupt soul in the club?

The sorcerer spotted the vampire sitting dejectedly at the bar, smiled and abruptly took the abandoned stool beside him.

Well, imagine that... Rowan bit back a smile and watched.

The hungry vampire glanced up in surprise, said something then fell under the sorcerer's sway almost easily. One minute he was smiling and the next he was wide-eyed and frozen in place on his bar stool.

Rowan could just make out a swirl of color pinning him to where he sat. She choked on outright laughter. Let's see how you feel about being on the menu for once, vampire.

A small breeze from the door behind her blew some cards from the small table.

With a huff of annoyance, Rowan retrieved the cards from the floor. The Tower, the Devil, the Magician, the Hermit and the Ten of Swords. Rowan felt the blood drain from her face. Piss and firewater! Together these cards meant immanent and massive destruction. The Ten of Pentacles slid out of her fingers; the establishment - the club!

Rowans held the cards and her hands shook. Son of a bitch! That sorcerer is going to slaughter everyone in the club with the power he's draining off the vampire. She glanced around at the crowded club. Damn it! There's no way to warn all these people. Even if I called the police right now people will die before they even get here. Mother of us all, what am I thinking? The police don't stand a chance against something like this! She bit her lip and tapped a finger on the cards. Shit, something has to be done before the sorcerer can cause his bloodbath, but what?

The High Priestess card, subtitled: the Witch, fluttered to the floor followed by Justice, subtitled: the White Knight, meaning rescue. Damn it! I can't stop that - I'm not anywhere near magically strong enough. That monster is way out'ta my league…

The Devil, also known as the vampire, slid to the tabletop followed by the five of wands, meaning argument. The vampire can fight the sorcerer?

The Ace of Swords flipped almost to the floor. Yes.

Rowan looked over at the trapped vampire. The vampire may be sending people to the hospital, but from everything I've heard, they're still in one piece and still breathing when he's done with them. This guy intends to leave nothing but bodies. Or rather, body parts... I guess this is a case of 'the lesser of two evils'. The vampire will have to be released from the sorcerer's spell first…

The Ace of Cups slithered through her fingers.

True love? Rowan frowned. What does love have to do with it? She shook her head. Never mind, I'll just take that as an ace, which means yes, I have to rescue the vampire. Terrific.

She frowned at the two at the bar. That vampire was going to be pissed once released and the following battle would be messy. Their fight will at least clear the bar of innocent bystanders in a big hurry. I better pack up.

She put her cards together and wrapped them in her cloth, then set the cards in their sandalwood box. Quickly and efficiently, she tucked her entire setup, signs, candles and gargoyle statuary into her large leather satchel.

Now, what do I need to break that spell? She reached into the small, red brocaded, Magikal Arte bag that she had tied onto her belt and rummaged around. Her fingers touched small paper twists of various herbs and small randomly collected trinkets. She stabbed her finger on something sharp. She took out a tiny, silver-dipped, horseshoe nail. Ah, yes. This will do nicely. I can always get another one made so I can just leave it behind.

Unknotting the small bag from her belt, she tucked it into her satchel then pushed her kit behind the booth, out of casual view. She grabbed her long skirted coat from the back of the booth, and shrugged into it.

Gritting her teeth in a tight smile, she sauntered out of her booth and over to the bar. Why do I have to do all the rescuing tonight? First I rescue the vampire's victim, now I get to rescue the vampire. Karma must be after me.

Gingerly, she sat in the stool directly behind the broad back of the sorcerer that sat facing the trapped vampire. Let's begin by invoking the element of Fire. She turned her back to the sorcerer and lit a clove cigarette. Slowly, she turned around on the barstool and leaned an elbow on the bar to peek past the sorcerer's shoulder.

By squinting her eyes, she could see that the vampire's vitality was being unraveled in bright skeins of power. To the rest of the bar, it looked as though they were sharing a conversation, with the sorcerer doing all the chatting. The vampire was beginning to look a bit too pale, almost gray. His full lips had a bluish cast to them. He's going to be really pissed off and hungry once I set him loose. Too bad for the sorcerer…

The vampire spotted her behind the sorcerer. She smiled at him grimly at him.

His eyes widened but other than that, he obviously couldn't move a muscle.

Okay, I need to invoke Earth... Very softly, Rowan whispered. "I need, salt."

One of the bartenders accidentally spilled bar salt right in front of her.

She smiled. Well Lord Karma may be pissed at me for some reason, but Lady Fate is still on my side. With her index finger, she sketched a pentacle in the spilled salt that conveniently lay in a portion of the inhuman shadow. There, earth. Now, Air... She held up her horseshoe nail and winked at the vampire. And finally, the element of Water. She licked the nail.

The vampire looked at her in puzzlement. The sorcerer was so involved in what he was doing that he didn't notice the changes of expression on the vampire's face.

She took a deep suck on her clove cigarette. Gently, she whispered, "Blessed be," while blowing the fragrant smoke on the pentacle drawn in salt. Abruptly, she stabbed the damp, silver nail deep into a crack on the bar top. It stuck upright in the center of the pentacle that lay well within the sorcerer's second and inhuman shadow.

Rowan watched the colorful webbing around the vampire suddenly dissipate. That ought to make things interesting. With a grin, she quickly ducked under the bar then peeked out.

The vampire took a deep breath and abruptly realized that his binding was gone. His eyes ignited into pools of flame and he smiled, baring long and inhuman fangs.

Rowan's eyes opened wide. Great Mother, that is definitely not a human -- he is a real vampire!

The vampire lunged for the surprised sorcerer's throat with both hands, his long coat flying out like a cape. The sorcerer roared and they went over together, hitting the floor with the furious vampire on top.

Pandemonium ensued. Screams and shouts erupted all over the bar. People jostled each other in their rush to get out of range. The fight quickly escalated with furniture being thrown. Bodies pressed for the front and back exits.

Fortuneteller two points, creatures of darkness still at zero... Rowan chuckled, crawling along the underside the bar as fast as she could. Darting away to her corner, she grabbed her satchel then dashed under the bar to slip out the side door with the escaping employees.

V^^^V

Chapter One: Auspix

Chapter Two: Fortuneteller

Chapter Three: Copper Kiss

Chapter Four: Correspondence

House of Shadows
Enchantment in Crimson
~ Book One ~

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