Vampire Mage: A Clutch Mistress Book Read online

  Vampire

  Mage

  A Clutch Mistress Book

  Janelle Peel

  Amazon Kindle Edition

  Copyright 2017 Janelle Peel

  Illustrated by Elaine Newsome

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  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without the prior permission in writing from the author, except for brief quotations used for promotion or in reviews.

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are used fictitiously and any resemblance to any persons, businesses, locales or events is entirely coincidental.

  For my family,

  those that have believed in me here

  and those in heaven.

  -Thank you

  Table of Contents

  Summary

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Summary

  My name is Sora. I was born into this world to a highly respected Mage family. All was well as a child; most children don’t receive their magic until puberty… I was not that fortunate. Shunned by my family, I was cast out on my 21st Birthday, a failure and disappointment to everyone that was supposed to love me.

  Left on my own in Seattle with no friends or money, I made my way through low paying jobs down the coast to Southern California. Fate finally smiled upon me in San Diego where I scored a serving position at an all-night diner.

  One night after my shift, I decided to walk to a dive bar near my home to drown my sorrows. That was where I met him, the Master Vampire of the SoCal Clutch. It was either the biggest mistake of my life… or the best decision in the world.

  Clutch Mistress Series-

  Vampire Mage

  Allied Mage

  Chosen Mage

  Coming soon… Alpha Mage

  Chapter 1

  Curley’s sported broken neon in bright red letters over a chipped brick building with bars covering the windows. The L was either burnt out or broken, spelling ‘Culey’s’. Cute, I thought, and pushed my way into the dimly lit interior. I did a quick scan of the patrons, noting a dark corner with a single occupant at the opposite end of the bar. Chipped tile greeted my Chucks as I threaded my way between the rickety tables to the bar.

  Garth Brooks was playing out of an old jukebox in the corner. Half the screen was lit and I could barely make out the warbles of Friends in Low Places. Low, being the key word in my mind.

  I hopped on a crooked stool and placed my wallet on the only clean surface available, the bar. A portly man with a handlebar mustache shuffled over and grunted.

  “Tequila please, Pepsi back.” I said, earning another grunt by way of reply.

  I began pulling change from the pocket of my apron, hoping to have enough to put Garth in the back of the que, and made my way over to the Jukebox. Flipping through the selections using worn silver knobs, the paper placards flopped beneath the scratched glass. I quickly said a prayer to the All Mother for there to be some classic rock; anything other than country.

  Yes! I smiled, “Paint it Black”. I popped in 2 quarters, made my selection, and nodded my head on my way back over to the bar. As the Stones finally shut down Garth, I relaxed and eyed my drink. After a quick inhale, I polished the shot in one go, chasing it with the warm Pepsi. I shivered, gut rot stuff.

  Shadows moved out of the corner of my eye, causing me to turn on my rotating stool. I caught a glimpse of blonde hair and a strong jaw. The same person I’d noted earlier, just shifting position.

  Plucking my phone from my back pocket, I squinted at the sudden bright light. 1:30AM. The bartender was polishing the bar down the way, so I raised my glass and signaled him over.

  “A double, please.” I mumbled, receiving the standard grunt in return.

  Reaching for the bottle, he poured 4 fingers of gold and went back to polishing the opposite end of the ‘L’ shaped bar.

  I stared hard at my glass, wondering where the hell I was and who the hell I was. My days had taken on a monotony of sleep, eat, and work at the diner. It was all autopilot since Giselle took me in 4 months ago. I shopped at thrift stores for my clothes, but that was about all I did to leave my studio apartment. My mini fridge, free Netflix, and microwave were my stable companions. Even my phone was an outdated Nokia. It didn’t even have data, not that I’d even have a use for it. My friend Viv owned an internet cafe, but her being human just made me feel like more like an imposter.

  I reached for my glass and raised it to my lips, slowly swallowing the burn just to feel something as Mick hummed out his last tones. Switching to the warm Pepsi to ease my throat, I debated on playing another song or heading back to my ‘Orange is the New Black’ binge.

  A brush of air whispered against my neck and I shuddered; the only indication of the other patron making their exit. I stewed a bit more on things I couldn’t change and checked my too bright phone screen, 1:45AM. Not noticing the silence, I threw a few bills on the bar, gathered my things and made my own exit.

  Once outside, I zipped my hoodie and shoved my hands deep into my pockets. It was chilly out for a June night in San Diego. The weatherman forecasted rain. The marine layer was so thick, not even the Moon showed her silver face. I was getting spoiled. It was maybe 50 degrees out, and I was freezing. Concentrating on my footsteps for the 2 mile walk home, my vision slightly blurred while I mused about skipping dinner after the evening rush. Wallowing back in my own self-pity, thoughts of my ineptitude flashed through my mind. I had everything, how could I be a magical dud? My parents maxed out on what they could do for me, but when they could no longer deny my inability to cast even a light sphere, the Council forced them to cast me out. By that point they were so frustrated and embarrassed by what should have been a child prodigy, they didn’t even accompany me to my own banishment.

  As I recalled the last time I saw them at dinner before I was taken away like trash, I failed to pay attention to my surroundings.

  Suddenly, I was hit from my right side and thrown to the sidewalk, the world spun as I knocked my head on the unforgiving concrete. I caught a glimpse of blonde hair just before my world went black.

  I was being shaken. Rough hands were patting down my pockets.

  “What?” I mumbled groggily.

  A male voice shouted in alarm, “Shit, she’s waking up! Let’s go!”

  Slowly I sat up, listening to the retreating footsteps as I took in my surroundings. I was only about a quarter mile from home. My fingers clenched the grass, bumping into the hard brick of my phone as I swayed to my knees. Snatching it to my chest, I thought it was rather comical that even thieves didn’t want a decade old Nokia. Further inspection revealed that my apron was a ripped mess and my wallet was missing.

  All Mother, my head hurt. I reached to the back of my skull with my free hand and fel
t a solid knot with the makings of a scab. Did I fall, I wondered, awkwardly rocking back to sit on my heels. My phone showed it was 4:30 in the morning. I ran through what I remembered, bar, tequila, time 1:45AM. About 2 missing hours. Maybe I drank more than I thought. Staggering to my feet on the grass, I finally made it over to the sidewalk and continued home with my thoughts a scattered mess.

  Ten minutes later, the light on the landing glowed like a beacon as I reached my studio. Leaning heavily on the rail, I slowly climbed the stairs. Thankfully, my keys were in my inner jacket pocket. After repeatedly missing the keyhole, I cursed myself. Did I drink too much and fall over? Just what happened? Eventually, I found the lock and turned the key; fumbling the knob as I stumbled inside. Kicking the door closed with my heel, I flicked the lock and tossed my phone onto the hide a bed. Using the wall for support, I slowly made my way to the small bathroom and flipped on the light.

  My platinum hair was stained orange from the impact with the concrete. Dull sea green eyes stared back at me from a reflection I barely recognized. The smattering of freckles on the bridge of my nose, normally not even noticeable, stood out in stark relief. My sun kissed tan was gone… I looked like death after a bender with a bottle of José.

  Turning away in disgust, I flipped on the shower as hot as I could stand and quickly shucked my clothes. Pulling the flimsy plastic curtain aside, I stepped under the spray. Oh, blessed heat. Swiftly, I shampooed my locks and bits, anxious to go to sleep and put the entire night out of my head.

  After a rough towel dry, I tugged on a tank and loose shorts and hopped onto the hide a bed. Snuggling beneath my blue blanket, I flipped through my saved shows on the TV when sleep took me; remote still clutched tightly in my hand.

  I woke to the standard Nokia tune. Blindly searching through the covers, I finally located the phone once the ringing had stopped. The screen flashed bright green, 4:30PM. I had slept for nearly 12 hours. My thoughts scrambled as I tried to remember what day it was. Right, Wednesday, my night off. My phone chimed and a text scrolled across the screen.

  ‘Hey Honey, don’t forget! Dinner is at 6 sharp.’ The screen displayed a big G next to the text. Giselle. She liked having dinner once a week. I knew she worried about me. Her husband and daughter had passed away a year ago in a car accident.

  I slowly texted back, ‘I got in late last night. Raincheck for tomorrow?’ She made the schedule and knew I was off at the diner.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  I typed back, ‘Fine, just had a late night and need some sleep.’

  ‘Let me know if you need anything. Get some rest :/’

  I loved it when she tried emoticons, it was sweet. ‘Will do :)’ I replied.

  As I looked around my studio, the events of last night came rushing back. Just what the hell had happened?

  My stomach rumbled loudly. Right, I didn’t eat last night. Well, that was one problem I could solve. Getting up, I pushed in the hide a bed and resettled the cushions. Using my knee, I shoved the coffee table back into place. Flipping on a nature documentary, I made my way to the tiny fridge and grabbed a container of milk. Turning, I snatched a bowl and spoon from the drying rack; poured my honey nut o’s, and added some milk.

  Back on the sofa, I took my first bite. Crunch, crunch, crunch… odd, it didn’t taste quite right. Maybe I didn’t seal the bag and it was stale or something. I choked it down anyway and padded back to the cheery yellow painted kitchen to clean up my mess.

  Moving through my ritual in the shower, I noticed tenderness on the right side of my neck. Stepping out, I tucked the towel around my torso and peered into the mirror. My eyes were ocean crystals, not quite the normal sea green, and my skin was flawless. I no longer looked like the walking dead from last night, which was a tremendous relief.

  Leaning against the small vanity to check my neck, I found two dot like bruises. Hmm, I must have gotten bit by a bug while sprawled on the grass the night before. I didn’t think I’d drank that much, but what I did drink was more like 6 shots due to the heavy-handed bartender. Add in the fact that I’d skipped dinner and it was no wonder I had passed out.

  I swiped on a quick coat of mascara and got dressed. My go to size 4 skinny jeans were loose and I had to adjust the straps on my favorite C cup bra. Even my lucky V necked shirt was baggy. Weird.

  Styling my locks, I noticed more of a silver sheen. Maybe I should go to bed with wet hair more often.

  Hooking the front door closed with a ballet flat, I locked it and decided a visit to the Thrift Store was in order. It was only 5 blocks away; hopefully I wouldn’t get mugged again. My Nokia read 5:30PM.

  Trotting down the stairs with a bounce in my step, my thoughts swirled with possibilities. I loved shopping for new clothes.

  As I neared the main drag of Pacific Beach, I noticed the lights seemed brighter; even the sounds had more depth. The ocean smelled sweeter. Odd. Maybe that crack to the head adjusted my sensory input. Only then did I realize that I didn’t even have a bruise on my scalp from the concrete. Shrugging it off, I continued on my way.

  A bell chimed overhead as I pushed open the swinging door to the Closet. The bohemian dressed teen at the register waved a hello and I smiled back.

  Searching through the size 2 racks and small tops, my thoughts drifted back to the night before. Bar… check. Drinks… check. The Jukebox… check. Another drink… check. Paying… check. Getting lost in my own failures on the fuzzy walk home… check. Then nothing until I was rudely robbed and left sprawled on the grass. Thank the Goddess I didn’t have more than my old phone, ID, tips, and change on me.

  Finally, having picked enough clothes, I chose a fitting room and stripped. I didn’t recognize my body in the full-length mirror. Where I wasn’t toned before, I had triceps. I could even see my ribs. My waist tapered to a tiny hourglass while my hips flared just enough to attract male attention. Even the globes of my rear seemed perkier. If it wasn’t uncouth, I could go braless. I giggled to myself at the thought of the girls bouncing in the breeze. I quickly tried on my selections. It didn’t seem to matter what I put on, everything looked amazing. This would be my best shopping trip yet.

  Arms full of fabric, I lugged all the clothes to the teen at the front. She eyed my selections with approval and gave me my total. I paid in cash and grabbed my bags. In the glass reflection on my way out, I could see the cashier stare after me with a strange look of longing on her face.

  I popped into Starbucks on my way home and it got even weirder. As soon as I stepped up to the counter the room fell silent. The espresso machines hissed, but everyone just stopped and stared. I looked around for a moment before I figured out that the object of their fascination was… me. Feeling uncomfortable with my second-hand purchases, I cleared my throat to order. The barista immediately snapped to attention.

  “A venti mocha frappe, please.” I said, reaching into my pocket.

  I pulled out a ten to pay when the drink appeared in front of me. You could have heard a pin drop as I held out the bill.

  The barista looked at my outstretched hand like he didn’t know what money was. He stood and stared for a few beats. “No charge Miss. Thanks for coming in today.”

  “Um, okay,” I stammered, feeling incredibly uncomfortable and not even wanting the coffee now. Grabbing my drink, I turned on my heel and headed toward the door; all the while noticing every single person’s eyes follow me with not just longing, but with jealousy, and... lust.

  I rushed the 5 blocks home in record time. What the hell was that all about?

  Locking the door, I walked the 24-foot length of my tiny studio and plugged in my phone. Flopping onto the sofa, I reflected about the strangest evening, ever. I was a dud, just a normal non-magical person. What was with all the looks?

  Venti Mocha Frappe and thrift clothes forgotten on the table, I decided to make popcorn and veg out.

  Bed pulled out, comfy clothes on, Orange on the TV… Perfect. Suddenly exhausted, despite sleeping for 12 hours and be
ing up for 4 more, I nodded off in the middle of the 3rd season.

  A surge of panic startled me awake. Reaching over to the table for my phone, I checked the time. 2AM. I’d been asleep for about 5 hours. What awoken me? I heard nothing but the soft sounds of the TV I had fallen asleep listening to, but inside my gut was screaming at me. Something was wrong. Giselle would be sleeping right now, maybe I should go check on her? As I debated calling her, a soft tapping started on my door. Thoroughly freaked out, I grabbed my bat from the corner of the couch and sat on my knees to wait.

  It came again. Tap, tap, tap. A moment passed and the handle wiggled.

  Panicking, I squinted at the deadbolt in the flickering light of the TV. Locked, I sighed in relief.

  Tap, tap, tap, thump.

  Heart in my throat, I tiptoed to the door, strangling the bat with my damp fingers. My home was just a studio/bath above a detached garage with a stairway entry on the side. The door opened outward, I figured maybe I could kick it and surprise whoever the hell was sneaking around on the landing.

  Muffled voices quickly aborted that plan.

  “... I smell it too,” said a man’s deep timbre.

  “Doors locked… too loud,” came a muffled male reply.

  I looked back toward the phone I had left on my coffee table; torn between crossing the distance and listening further when they spoke again.

  “The scent… near the old lady’s house, we… it out?”

  In full on terror, I gripped the bat in one hand and placed my other on the lock. There was no way I was letting these thugs near Giselle.

  The other man replied, “No, Blaze said to check it out, not harass old lady’s in the… the night.”

  I slowly let go of the breath I was holding and released the deadbolt; it made a nearly inaudible click as the lock resettled from my touch.