Phantom Kiss (Chicagoland Vampires 12.5)

His mouth was open and screaming, the words skewed by magic but the anger clear enough.” . . . my power . . . !”

Annabelle stepped forward, determination in every feature. “Albert Padgett! I am Annabelle Shaw, necromancer. You are not welcome in this world. Return to your home!”

She stamped a booted foot upon the floor, and it shook beneath her, proof of her power.

Padgett’s eyes narrowed, became pinpricks of concentrated anger. “. . . am a god!”

“You are most certainly not a god!” Annabelle said. “You are only energy, and you are in the wrong plane!” She pointed her finger at him like the Grim Reaper claiming a soul. “You are a monster with no place in this world. You will return to your plane now by choice, or I will send you there myself.”

He rushed her, so quickly I only had a moment to move.

I jumped forward, pushed her out of the way. Albert Padgett hit me, and we slammed against the floor together, his spirit wrapped around my body, his hands around my neck.

That numbing cold began to spread again, icy fingers piercing my ribs and squeezing my heart into stillness.

In that moment of connection, there was only darkness and death. I could feel his thrill in it, in watching life dissipate, in seeing the last breath catch and release, the twitch of muscle as electricity made its final course through the human body.

Albert Padgett reveled in death, and as long as he had a presence in this world, he would continue to revel in it. He could continue to kill.

Then flame covered us both, and Padgett’s spirit darted back. The world filled with light, bright and blue and pure, and those thoughts retreated like a wave returning to the sea.

I was yanked to my feet, shaken.

Merit! Merit!

I waited for the world to come back into focus, stared into Ethan’s eyes. He’d pulled me up by my jacket, hauling me nearly onto my toes while he called out to me.

I’m all right, I said, not trusting my voice to speak. I’m all right. I got my bearings, watched light reassemble a few feet away. Catcher had thrown a fireball, I realized, saved me. I gave him an acknowledging nod, and he winked at me in return.

The sparks had split Padgett’s energy, but he was beginning to re-form again. I pulled away from Ethan and unsheathed my katana.

Padgett had given me a glimpse of his mind. He was mine to destroy.

With a Cheshire grin as he re-formed, he watched me move toward him. “. . . know what I am . . . What . . . want.”

That was easy enough to understand in context. “I know what you are,” I confirmed. “And what you want. And I’m here to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

I swung the blade horizontally, slicing through him, then back and forth in a crisscrossing pattern that would have torn a physical form to shreds. But it had no effect on him. It only shattered the image, like a ripple through water, but he re-formed again and again.

“. . . weapons . . . no effect!” he cried victoriously.

He was right, so I stepped back. Annabelle took my place.

“Albert Padgett!” she screamed. “This is your last damn warning. Get the hell out of our town!”

She slammed her foot onto the floor, pushing a shock wave of energy across the room. Floorboards buckled beneath the wave.

But Albert Padgett didn’t even blink.

“It’s not working!” Annabelle yelled out, and now there was fear in her voice.

I closed my eyes, made myself think through the steps. Padgett was still here—why? Because he wanted to be?

I opened my eyes, looked over at the pillar candle and the ring of salt around it, still intact despite the fighting. Salt rings were meant to contain things; it stood to reason that breaking the barrier would also break the containment.

Like a girl preparing to run into a game of double Dutch, I watched him move, timed my shot, and I darted forward, running beneath Padgett’s open arms, and swiped a foot across the salt, putting a gap in the ring.

Magic burst across the room. Bolts of blue power, bright and sharp as lightning, struck upward toward the ceiling.