Tracking Magic: A Rylee Adamson Short Story by Shannon Mayer Page B

knife, balancing it in my hand. Fear rattled around in my brain at light speed, as I struggled to recall the things Giselle had been teaching me. Strike first, ask questions later.
    Three quick slashes and I’d backed the vampire up. He easily dodged what even I knew were wild swings. There was nothing controlled about my attack, my movements jerky and out of balance. I stepped into what would have been my fourth slash when he slid sideways and swept my legs out from under me.
    My back slammed into the floor, but I didn’t let go of the knife, the only thing I had between me and this bastard’s teeth.
    He stood above me, blood dripping down his chin, one foot on my chest.
    “Where ih ick?
    “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?” I asked, my voice remarkably steady considering the fact I was staring down death in the form of a creature I’d only just learned existed.
    He spit a gob of blood to one side, then grinned down at me, his mouth a hideous twist of fang, blood and bright white teeth. “I am going to ennoy killing you. Firck. Where ga fuck ih ick?”
    The light flicked on and he blinked in the sudden brightness. Giselle stood there in her long white nightgown, dirty blonde hair cascading around her and one of her swords I was not yet allowed to touch gripped in her hand.
    “Martin, you know better than to show up un-announced,” she said, her voice deceptively soft.
    He smiled at her, then gave a mock bow. “Buineth. Ick ih all abou buineth.”
    “Good grief, did you bite your tongue off?” she asked, her eyes widening. Martin pointed at me.
    Giselle’s brown eyes flicked over me and she gave me a slight nod of her head. A flush of pride skipped through me.
    “Good. Perhaps this will teach you not to attack people.” I noticed she didn’t lower her sword tip, just adjusted her grip slightly. “How long before it grows back?”
    Martin shrugged thin shoulders. “Few minutes. Ah, there we go.” He smacked his lips and flicked his tongue, fully intact, out around his lips. He really didn’t look like much, certainly not the scary, big, bad, ugly thing Giselle had told me vampires were. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it hadn’t been a fang I’d seen.
    “I’m here on business. I want the stone the kid has.” Again he pointed at me and I sat up, scooting back from them both. I didn’t know what was going on, but Giselle would sort it out. Of that much I was sure.
    “I don’t have any stone, rock, gravel or boulders.” I said, pushing to my feet.
    Giselle glanced over me. “Are you sure? Go check your room.”
    I knew a dismissal when I heard one; but at seventeen I struggled with myself to do what she wanted. Frowning, I backed out of the room and then ran up the stairs to my tiny bedroom. A quick search gave me nothing, as I knew it would. Giselle had wanted me out of ear shot for a reason. Well, screw that.
    Creeping back down the stairs, avoiding the squeaky one third up from the bottom I made my way back to the living room with my back pressed against the wall.
    Martin’s voice reached me first. “The boss said a runaway had the stone. A runaway with a talent no one has seen for years. That fits your girl there.”
    “What would your pack want with the stone? You have no witches who can use it,” Giselle said.
    I slowed my breathing and tried to ease the beat of my heart as if that would help me hear better.
    “You don’t know everything about our pack,” Martin said. Something shifted, like a chair being scraped across the floor.
    “Fine. But still, a stone like this, it shouldn’t be floating around out there. The connection to the deeper sides of the Veil is too dangerous.”
    “Why do you think we’re trying to track it?” Martin snapped. “Can you imagine what would happen if . . .” There was a sniffing sound then, “Your girl is listening.”
    Heat rushed through my face and I had no doubt I was bright red; it would be stupidly obvious what I’d been up to. Like a brand