attached to the end of a string, or an old-fashioned telegraph machine: tap-tap, tap-tap-tap-tap . He chuckled inwardly, feeling guilty for mocking the peculiar vampire, even if the guy was unnaturally strange.
“What were you doing?” Grigori asked, making Braden feel instantly guilty. He pointed toward the flat, rocky ledge, at the polished, drying stones, and Braden sighed with relief.
“Oh, that?” Braden turned around to face the stones, grateful for the temporarydistraction . “I was just playin’ around with some energy, trying to turn water into wine, you know, that sort of thing.”
“You were trying to make gemstones?” Grigori asked.
Now this got Braden’s attention. “Yeah. How’d you know?”
Grigori cocked one shoulder to his ear in a facetious gesture and smirked. “What kind?”
Braden stared harder at the stones and frowned, knowing he probably didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of getting the metamorphosis right. “Citrines,” he answered sheepishly.
“Citrines?” Grigori repeated. “Hmm.” He glided over to the stones, squatted down in front of the rocky ledge, and placed both hands, palms down, over the rocks. “Ah, you’ve done well, thus far. The stones feel pliant—you’ve already focused some energy.”
Braden raised both brows and took a step closer toward the ledge. “You think?”
“Oh, yes,” Grigori insisted. He bent closer to the stones. “Do you mind?”
Braden shook his head emphatically. “Hell no—I mean, heck no.” Even though Nachari wasn’t there, Braden was still slightly paranoid: Who knew what a wizard could hear. Hell— heck —Nachari might’ve crafted some curse-word spell just to catch him slipping or something.
Grigori chuckled once again and picked up both stones.
He placed them in the center of his left palm and rotated the fingers of his right hand over them in a repetitive circular motion. And then he closed his eyes, and heat began to radiate from his open palm. As he continued to caress the stones, almost like a dutiful lover, the pads of his fingers curled inward and energy shot from their tips. At last, he closed his fist over the stones, exhaled as if he’d been holding his breath, and then slowly reopened his palm. “Is the color to your liking?”
Braden glanced at the two perfect citrines resting in the vampire’s hand, and gasped. “No way!” he exclaimed. “You did that that easily?”
Grigori smiled and bowed his head infinitesimally. “As I’ve said, I’ve been on this earth a very long time, and precious jewels have always been a quick and efficient means of procuring income.”
Braden nodded, entirely impressed.
Eager to study the gemstones more closely, he reached out to take them from Grigori’s palm, and immediately drew back from the contact. In fact, Braden jerked his hand away so hard and so fast that the beautiful citrines went flying through the air and back into the river—all that hard work was lost. “Oh, man… dude …I’m sorry!” Braden clamored.
Grigori stood up and took a generous step back, studying the vampire closely.
Too closely.
Braden flashed a repentant smile and pressed the subject further. “Oh, man, that was so jacked up. I really am sorry. And after everything you just did? My bad! Seriously. I am so, so sorry.” He wasn’t about to say what he was really thinking: What the heck just happened?
Grigori’s expression relaxed, and he held up both hands in dismissal. “What is it the young people say? It’s all good. No harm; no foul.”
Braden nodded, grateful for Grigori’s understanding. Truly, he had not meant to overreact or to offend the seriously strange vampire. It was just…it was just that there was something so wrong with those stones. The energy.
It was so foreign, so remote…
Braden could hardly make it out.
It wasn’t exactly evil, and it wasn’t exactly good.
For lack of a better word, it was obscure: hidden,
“What were you doing?” Grigori asked, making Braden feel instantly guilty. He pointed toward the flat, rocky ledge, at the polished, drying stones, and Braden sighed with relief.
“Oh, that?” Braden turned around to face the stones, grateful for the temporarydistraction . “I was just playin’ around with some energy, trying to turn water into wine, you know, that sort of thing.”
“You were trying to make gemstones?” Grigori asked.
Now this got Braden’s attention. “Yeah. How’d you know?”
Grigori cocked one shoulder to his ear in a facetious gesture and smirked. “What kind?”
Braden stared harder at the stones and frowned, knowing he probably didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of getting the metamorphosis right. “Citrines,” he answered sheepishly.
“Citrines?” Grigori repeated. “Hmm.” He glided over to the stones, squatted down in front of the rocky ledge, and placed both hands, palms down, over the rocks. “Ah, you’ve done well, thus far. The stones feel pliant—you’ve already focused some energy.”
Braden raised both brows and took a step closer toward the ledge. “You think?”
“Oh, yes,” Grigori insisted. He bent closer to the stones. “Do you mind?”
Braden shook his head emphatically. “Hell no—I mean, heck no.” Even though Nachari wasn’t there, Braden was still slightly paranoid: Who knew what a wizard could hear. Hell— heck —Nachari might’ve crafted some curse-word spell just to catch him slipping or something.
Grigori chuckled once again and picked up both stones.
He placed them in the center of his left palm and rotated the fingers of his right hand over them in a repetitive circular motion. And then he closed his eyes, and heat began to radiate from his open palm. As he continued to caress the stones, almost like a dutiful lover, the pads of his fingers curled inward and energy shot from their tips. At last, he closed his fist over the stones, exhaled as if he’d been holding his breath, and then slowly reopened his palm. “Is the color to your liking?”
Braden glanced at the two perfect citrines resting in the vampire’s hand, and gasped. “No way!” he exclaimed. “You did that that easily?”
Grigori smiled and bowed his head infinitesimally. “As I’ve said, I’ve been on this earth a very long time, and precious jewels have always been a quick and efficient means of procuring income.”
Braden nodded, entirely impressed.
Eager to study the gemstones more closely, he reached out to take them from Grigori’s palm, and immediately drew back from the contact. In fact, Braden jerked his hand away so hard and so fast that the beautiful citrines went flying through the air and back into the river—all that hard work was lost. “Oh, man… dude …I’m sorry!” Braden clamored.
Grigori stood up and took a generous step back, studying the vampire closely.
Too closely.
Braden flashed a repentant smile and pressed the subject further. “Oh, man, that was so jacked up. I really am sorry. And after everything you just did? My bad! Seriously. I am so, so sorry.” He wasn’t about to say what he was really thinking: What the heck just happened?
Grigori’s expression relaxed, and he held up both hands in dismissal. “What is it the young people say? It’s all good. No harm; no foul.”
Braden nodded, grateful for Grigori’s understanding. Truly, he had not meant to overreact or to offend the seriously strange vampire. It was just…it was just that there was something so wrong with those stones. The energy.
It was so foreign, so remote…
Braden could hardly make it out.
It wasn’t exactly evil, and it wasn’t exactly good.
For lack of a better word, it was obscure: hidden,
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