Karizma

Kristopher tensed as he stood outside of Ryleigh’s apartment. He could not smell her anymore, but he could smell burnt flesh. The lack of her presence, mixed with the burnt flesh, stirred unease. Something was wrong, he thought. He felt his fangs bite into his lower lips as rage began to consume him. He knocked on her door, and only silence greeted him. His hand gripped her doorknob tightly, and he squeezed. The metal doorknob groaned under the pressure of his grasp. He squeezed the doorknob harder and jerked it backwards as he dislodged it from the door. He fought the urge to rip the door off its hinges and simply pushed it open.

The apartment was empty. Kristopher approached the living room and the scent of burnt flesh intensified. He looked curiously at a spot on the carpet that appeared to be cleaner than the rest of the carpet in the living room. As if magically cleansed, he thought. He knelt beside the spot and instinctively touched it. Warmth greeted his fingertips, and he clenched his jaw. This is still fresh. Whatever happened, he had only missed it by a couple of hours. He pushed himself to his feet and walked slowly through the rest of the apartment.

There was no furniture missing or out of sorts that Kristopher could see, and he even noticed dishes in the sink that needed to be washed. It was as if Ryleigh had just vanished. The smell of burnt fabric greeted Kristopher’s nose as he approached the bedroom. He quickly entered the bathroom and sighed. The bathtub had the same magical cleaning regimen as the living room. H e raked a hand through his hair and turned to face the bedroom.

Kristopher closed his eyes as a deep growl reverberated in his throat. She’s not dead, he told himself. She is one of the most powerful witches that I’ve ever met, there is no way that someone killed her. What if someone had come to harm her, and she bolted? But why? He thought as he opened his eyes. She is one of the most powerful witches that I’ve ever met; who could she possibly be afraid of?

Kristopher cocked his head curiously as a shrill ringing noise sliced through the silence of the apartment. He had not noticed the cell phone that was face down on the bed. He approached the bed and used the blanket to flip the phone over. Bailey. So, this is Ryleigh’s phone, he thought. If she’s not dead, then she doesn’t want to be found, he thought. His fingers hovered over the phone as he debated on answering Bailey’s phone call. Maybe she knew something.

A bolt of magic shot into his fingertips from the phone. He hissed and withdrew his fingers instinctively. Ryleigh, he thought. Her magic had toyed with him long enough; he knew the difference between her magic and another’s. She’s alive. It was as if a part of her magic resonated in the cell phone to send a beacon of assurance to the person that found it. More than likely for Bailey, he thought. He exhaled and raked a hand through his hair. He needed to find her, he wanted to find her. What happened? Why did she run? He had to make sure that she was okay, that she was more than just alive.

Kristopher spun around and began to run. His speed blurred him to the human eye, making him damn near invisible as he tore through town. He needed to find her, and he knew what a witch smelled like. He could track her down by her scent. I have to be careful searching for her, but how far could she have really gone in a couple of hours? The buildings melted into nothingness as he searched for her. Every witch scent that he found, he investigated and departed before the witch could even see him. They would sense him, of course, but he was gone before they could actually locate him and determine if he was a threat or not. And with everything else going on right now, the last thing I need is to fight a witch; all that would do is delay me from finding Ryleigh, and I have to find her, he thought. I have to know that she’s okay.

Whomever entered her apartment, she had eliminated the threat. Rather powerfully. He knew so little about her; what if she was being hunted? What if she had made enemies throughout her life as she assumed her power? Hell, the Karizma line is an automatic enemy of my race, he thought, and, for that reason, most witches deem us their enemy as well. He would like to believe that vampires were not responsible for the burnt smell that polluted her apartment, but it was the only thing that made sense. She would not have needed to defend herself so powerfully against another human, and werewolves typically do not involve themselves with witches.

Kristopher remembered the surge in her power while they were intimate, and he cringed. Vampires were getting twitchy waiting for the Karizma to ascend and become known; they probably assumed that her surge in power made her a target. His heart battled with the logic of his mind. He cared for her so deeply that he was shutting his mind down to the possibility of what was screaming in his face. What if she really is the final Karizma? What happens then? He shook his head and ran even faster. I need to find her first, he thought. I need to make sure that she is okay.

Kristopher stopped suddenly in front of a run-down motel two towns over. The streetlights outside of the hotel had been extinguished and allowed the darkness to blanket the hotel. It was almost hidden, if not for the pulsating magic that barricaded the vicinity. He could smell a few human tenants, but they mattered not to him. He walked slowly toward the center of the barricade, the magic’s intensity growing with each step. It was Ryleigh’s magic. He growled lowly as the magic began to sear his skin and push him backwards at the same time. He pushed harder forward, trying to penetrate the magical shield that was protecting its occupant. She needs to stop; any other vampire in the area will target her on the sheer possibility that she is the Karizma with a power of this magnitude. Even if the vampires determine that she is not the Karizma, she would be eliminated because she is a powerful threat to their race.

Kristopher snarled and his speed burst through him. He shot through the barricade and slammed into the motel door. It rattled beneath his weight and his hand gripped the doorknob. He heard shuffling inside the room, and he sighed softly. She was walking around, that was a good sign. He gritted his teeth against the magic that continued to sear his skin, slowly stripping it off his bones. He slowly lifted his free hand through the thick molasses of her magic that attempted to paralyze him, and he knocked on the door. He was thankful that the streetlights were out; any human that could see him right now would be terrified. “Ryleigh,” he whispered hoarsely as her magic flooded his mouth.

Ryleigh’s barricade instantly shattered, and Kristopher collapsed to his knees. He gasped as her magic exited his mouth. “Ryleigh,” he repeated louder. He pushed himself to his feet. He hissed softly as his skin began tearing at itself to heal. He lifted his fist to knock again, but heard the locks disengage from the door. The door swung open suddenly. Ryleigh’s crimson hair was tossed into a messy bun. Her emerald eyes were wide as she stared at him. She was wearing a black tank top with a pair of black shorts. He growled darkly as he pushed her into the room and instantly closed the door behind him. He grabbed her hips and spun her around to press her back against the door. “You’re alive.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered. “You need to leave.”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

“You’re a smart vampire, Kristopher,” she said with exasperation. “Deep down, you have to know what this is.”

“I want to hear you say it,” he growled. His hands gripped her hips tightly and he pressed himself into her. His auburn eyes burned intensely into her emerald ones as he gazed down at her. “I want you to tell me why I shouldn’t be here, why your apartment reeked of burnt flesh, why you took off.” Because it’s her, he thought bitterly. She is the last Karizma, and yet he needed to touch her. He had the overwhelming urge to protect her, yet he was the one tasked to kill her. Her eyes shifted as she looked past him, and she bit her lip. He felt her magic flare up beneath her skin as it became defensive. She knows what will happen if she says the words, he thought. “Tell me,” he growled darkly.

“My name is Ryleigh Karizma,” she said slowly as her eyes returned to him. Her magic exploded beneath her skin and began to create a shield between their bodies. “I’m the last living descendant of the Karizma bloodline.”