Love, Creativity & Magick Read online

  Love, Creativity & Magic

  A Steampunk Valentine’s Day Tale by Kiki Howell

  ISBN: 978-1-927415-00-9

  Smashwords Edition 2012

  Release Date: January 2012

  Published by: Naughty Nights Press (NNP)

  P.O. Box 550 Drayton, Ontario, Canada

  http://naughtynightspress.com/

  Edited by: Jennifer Gunn

  Artwork & Logo by Shane Willis, RAD ACT Photography

  http://www.radactphoto.com/

  Copyright Kiki Howell 2012. All rights reserved. This book is under copyright by the author and is protected by law.

  All characters depicted in sexual acts in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older. This e-book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial graphic scenes and graphic language, which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where minors cannot access them.

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this e-book are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

  No part of this e-book may be adapted, stored, copied, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

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

  The right of Kiki Howell to be identified as the author has been asserted.

  Warnings: This book contains graphic language and may contain sexually explicit situations that may offend some readers.

  If you are offended by multiple sexual interactions between characters of any gender or vivid and clear descriptions of a multitude of sexual acts accompanied by implements designed to achieve the acts set forth within this fictional work, we ask that you refrain from reading this e-book.

  Please read at your own risk. – Yours Faithfully, The Naughty Nights Press (NNP) Team

  Love, Creativity & Magick

  A Steampunk Valentine’s Day Tale

  Chapter One

  Through lowered lashes, Emma glanced in inappropriate ways at the masculine forms striding into another room, one where men of the upper ten thousand spent too much time devoted to hedonistic pleasures. Where they were going port would be drunk to access, talk would be dirty and the wagers would be dangerously high.

  She was not paying particular attention to the exquisite tailoring of their clothes or the perfect knots in their neck cloths, which kept those in the privileged aristocracy at rapt attention. Instead, she mellowed without a drop of spirits by looking upon the places where the fabrics these men wore touched close to their skin, outlined for her the beautiful mysteries beneath. If the chaperones watching over their spectacles could follow the path of her eyes, scandal would erupt with their swooning cries.

  Old ladies close to hysterics and tears just might amuse her more than usual tonight, days away from London’s time to celebrate love. Valentine’s Day to those of the female persuasion without suitors seemed wrought of the devil himself, a damnable and confounded affront against them. It surly would not be long before lacy papers, love knots and puzzle purses would start being exchanged, sporting all sorts of sweet rubbish. Puzzle Purses! Who wanted to go about the trouble of reading the many verses scattered among their many folds? Hell and blast, what is wrong with me? Even I’m not usually this cynical.

  Of late, she’d no comprehension of what was happening to her. Something from outside, someone not of this world it seemed, pursued her, begged for her, haunted her. This being was dark and seductive, luring her into a state where sexual desires took over, built a lust, which couldn’t be quenched. Restless, she longed for something, someone she couldn’t find, for things she knew little about. She was a witch, a strong one, and yet, she couldn’t help fearing she was being possessed. Emma had played with scrying mirrors, but even she didn’t mess with demons.

  “Well, of all the deuced, Devilish things! By the by, all the rakes have left the room earlier that usual. What shall we do now?” Miss Cecilia Ingram’s chin lifted as she spoke. Emma’s eyes scanned the room.

  Her group stood in a quiet spot, a tiny alcove with windows overlooking the gardens. With her and Cecilia were Miss Isabella Hunt and Miss Laurisa Abbott. They were cousins, witches each of them, the only ones from families with magick in their circle of London. Their elders had taught them respect for their powers even when mixed with a spanking amount of fanciful mischief. On the other hand, if a lesson was warranted, then white verses black magick could be hard to define. All acts took on shades of gray in the end. Nowhere was the color of steam more evident than in the matters of justice, a slippery term to define. Yet, they’d made defining the laws of society their mission.

  “Why, dare I say, Emma, we’ve created quite the magickal comedy of errors here tonight, and you’ve barely lent your hand to the cause. Some rebel you are, standing here quietly in such a bread and butter fashion, acting according to the rules, being a wallflower. Do you suddenly disapprove of our ways? Because, remember, we believe there are such ornaments of society present that would thank us for the chance to side step society’s fastidious standards. Such pretense is a bore.” The words of reprimand dripped from Cecilia’s tongue.

  “Disapprove? Such a ridiculous notion. However, if it were up to you we would all keep to gentleman’s hours giving no heed to the dictations of civilized society at all,” Emma touched her fingers lightly to her chest feigning disapproval. Excitement tingled over her fair skin.

  Tonight, the presence lingering around her promised. Looking at her friends, it was obvious she was the only one who heard the voice.

  “We have a purpose of freedom,” Cecilia continued in a huff. “We’re setting the women of England free from wheedling away the hours either dancing or talking behind their fans.”

  “And, we’re raising quite a breeze. I mean we must have something to do to pass the time.” Isabella added. “Tonight I have observed many who’ve shown contemptuous behavior upon meeting and greeting, such disrespect as a lady failing to bow when happening upon a gentleman has gained many a chaperones scowl. In fact, poor Miss Elizabeth over there in her high collar gown, all a sickening shade of moss green, her behavior tonight has been so scandalous that she may soon have a demi-rep to contend with. Oh, she will just die of embarrassment when her grandmamma learns of her doubtful reputation, will she not. Yet, during all of this fun, Emma, you’ve remained as if in a swoon, your eyes glazed as if you were in love or something. Look at you!”

  The idea of love had occurred to her. That is what all of this felt like, at least in comparison to the stories she had been told about such things. Families with magick tended to be more open than others. Emotions were a necessary evil when working with their gifts. Yet, if she was indeed in love, it was with something unknown, a phantom, the promise of someone to come, someone only hinted at by the breeze, which felt like a man’s warm breath through her hair. Even so, this man couldn’t be just human. So, what was he then? And was he dangerous was more the question.

  “Love?” Emma shook her head, and half-lied. “It’s boredom which claims my attention. I’m just so tired of polite conversation that I would rather stay home and butter toast with the kitchen servants than to have to be privy to any more of it. Why already tonight, I’ve heard
endless drivel about how beautiful the weather has been of late. And if I hear once more of that new steam-powered card-shuffling contraption, I think I may just march right into that room over there and break the thing. Give Lady Davenworth something to really skitter on about besides that damnable spring powered robot her husband, the mad scientist that he surely is, made her. She claims it actually helps her servants. From what I hear, her servants have nothing but bandy words to say about their employer. I ask you now, would this be so, if they were getting their chores lightened by some spring-powered robot? I think not!”

  At the precise moment of Emma’s scowl, her cousin Laurisa began, “There is no scandal or gossip told of in polite conversation. So, what good is all of this babble here? Like you, Emma, I am so sick of talk of inventions, or I dare say literature, Walter Scott publishing Rob Roy and John Keats publishing Poems. No, give me a steady flow of talk, with no ease of manners, about what is really happening within the walls of all of these homes. I want to know whose wife is an uptight and frigid wench. I dream of hearing of inappropriate kisses dared in dark corners. Oh, dear me, or about the steam-powered medical device for treating hysteria in women and that they may soon be made to buy for personal home use by those on the shelf. Can you imagine what they do with that metal rod that vibrates?”

  While Laurisa feigned a swoon, Emma remained motionless barely giving the girl a nod of agreement. She didn’t dare reveal any emotion or someone might sense how much she would like to try the invention out right about now. Tonight, she’d begun to feel something more tangible lurking, something more powerful, more present than all the nights before. Besides, he’d whispered tonight. She was quite sure she heard it. She might be a damned fool, but deep in her gut, she thrilled at the idea.

  This presence was out of place even with the sedentary fall of water from the late-winter sky creating an eerie ambiance. Then, like arms coming from the darkness, the spirit wrapped around her. The moonless hour, the sky covered in clouds, weighed in on her with a sudden heaviness, more pervasive than the dampness of the atmosphere. She wondered if they were being watched by a spirit or a being, whichever it was, after weeks of hanging around her unseen, she felt she knew him. The masculine qualities of the essence, she had no doubt about, and she wanted to meet him.

  Even with the windows closed, an unnatural breeze swept over her, lured her outside. She uttered only a brief farewell, leaving her fellow witches mouths agape with her abrupt and unexplained departure. As her steam-powered carriage, a gift from her father, went through the rough streets, a sweat broke out over her neck, sent shivers down her spine more so than the shake of the engine did. The evening felt ripe with possibilities, ones as unbelievable and as fantastic as the dirigibles flying above her.

  Back home and retired to her own bedroom, she flew to her glass doors, which lead onto her balcony. Stopping short of throwing them open, she saw a man, his outline a shadow against the gas lamps on the street. Stepping closer, unable to resist, she could see how his head was raised to a proud angle, and how his wicked smile brightened his dark eyes. A sudden wave of panic bred of realization washed over her.

  “Why Emma, your body gives off the heat of sexuality like the flame of a candle blowing in a breeze. I have been burnt by its sparks all night as I’ve watched you.” The low timbre of his voice was erotic and intimate, wrapping her in comfort. “Drop the protective spell which bars me from your room. Let me in. You know me. It is I, the one you have been feeling for weeks. It is my presence you now long for.”

  “You’re a…”

  “Yes I am,” he cut her off. “I knew a powerful witch such as yourself would know what I am once I got close enough to you. Such is the reason why you had to get to know me first, from a distance. I didn’t compel you if that is what you think, but let you feel me. I opened myself to you, every night for months, to let you get to know me. And, I thank whatever there is that is still blessed in this world, that because of my actions, my abilities, you have come to want me as well. I can feel it, it burns within you; a flame I blew on, made come to life. Now there you stand with a raging fire all your own to save the likes of this cold-blooded vampire.”

  Her mind went through the ominous and the seductive possibilities before her. As one of the walking dead, beyond his threat to the blood, which coursed through her veins, a vampire could suck from her the energy that made her magickal. Be that as it may, the chance to be at the mercy of this man was alluring nonetheless in a way she could not possibly comprehend or explain. He was so much stronger than her, dangerous even, and this excited a place in her that even she didn’t know existed. It was juxtaposed to everything she did, stood for. She may use her gifts, even at times at the expense of others, to rebel against social morals and rules, but she wasn’t reckless. Yet, the idea of giving herself to him, naked and wanton, made her feel even stronger.

  She did feel she knew him, had been getting to know him in an intimate way over time. She’d welcomed the presence even when she felt it was driving her mad, when her pulse raced and her head got hazy just because she could feel him near. His touch, his kiss, she wanted. Desperately. How had she missed what he was? Was it a matter of compulsions? Did he just out right lie? Was he using some sort of mind energy, specific to his kind on her, even before tonight, before this first face-to-face meeting? His kind certainly weren’t above it. They hungered for a witch’s magick, and after they drained them of their energy, they drained them of their blood. The same had happened to her aunt just a little under a year ago.

  She knew though, beyond a shadow of any doubt, that sexual tension wound tight like twine around the bristles of a broom inside her. And, the two of them were still separated by glass, a frail barrier she wanted to break to get to him. She had to be under his type of spell, so to speak, and knew not what she would do next.

  Standing steady, her hands balled into fists as he continued to speak again.

  “I know your plan, or your amusements, should I say. I’ve been watching you with Cecilia, Isabella and Laurisa. I can help. I can make you a stronger witch in many ways. Just as I can drain you, I can feed your energy, help you build it up, as a man not a vampire. Some of my humanity remains, and you, you make me want it more, to fight for it harder. Do you believe in destiny, Emma?”

  “I do. Yet with you I feel like a pawn of some twisted fate, one you are perhaps devising.”

  “No. I am not controlling you in any way. Believe me please. I do now believe in the fates, that even a mistake, maybe several, can lead one on a given path to where they were meant to be. I’m a new vampire, made only within the last dozen or so moons. I believe now we were meant to be soul mates in life perhaps. Or, maybe I’ve had too much time to rationalize it all, to come up with excuses to suit my fancy. Yet, with all my heart I believe we were destined in life. My change to a vampire can’t stop that. It is now that we meant, a cruel hand of the gods, but still, I welcome it. I beg of you to give me a chance.”

  His hand came up to the glass. Palm pressed against it, her hand moved like a magnet to his. Even with the glass between them, she felt the buzz of his energy go through her arm, shoot straight to her heart, making the confounded organ skip a beat, like when her carriage wheel hit a rut in the road.

  “As well,” he continued, his head down now, his voice even more raspy, though it had been gravely to begin with. “I can teach you to use the overabundance of sexual energy you bear in my presence.”

  “You created it. You built it inside me.”

  “No. First time I saw you I dared to get too close, couldn’t stop myself. When I did, it sparked inside you, inside of me too. I felt it, felt how you reacted the same to me as I to you, as if we were meant to meet. Soul mates I believe they call it.”

  “Star-crossed lovers would be more like it now then unfortunately. Destined to meet in life or not, now, our kinds are enemies.” Her hand on the glass balled into a tight fist, but remained there just opposite his.

  “
Had I still been mortal I would have asked for a dance the first time I saw you, started calling upon you the next day. But, I knew right away what you were. I just sensed it. I knew I should stay away. I knew all too well the dangers of us being together. But, I’m a stronger vampire now. I will not let myself hurt you. Even the first night I saw you, I knew I couldn’t harm you in any way. I couldn’t listen to the rules of nature. I was drawn to you, and each time I dared come to you, you responded, you wanted me too. At night, while you’ve slumbered, you’ve even cried out for me though you had no name or face. But, I knew. You know. How many dreams have you had of a faceless presence? How many times have you woke up in a cold sweat telling me to come to you? I could have. I’ve had many opportunities as I’ve followed you. But I waited; waited until I knew you were ready for me, that you felt things for a stranger you had felt for no other. You feel it don’t you?”

  His forehead on the pane of glass left no mark of body heat. The proof of what he was hit hard, broke her heart actually as she admitted, “Yes, I feel it. But dare I ask if I will come through this safely. Now that you have made yourself visible, will I ever be safe out of the confines of my room even?”

  “Yes. You’ve been safe all these nights when I could have done whatever I wanted, grabbed you up out of the night on your rides home, made it seem as if you’d disappeared into thin air. I didn’t, the fact remains. You will always be safe with me. I will see to it. It’s a promise I’m fully prepared now to make. Together, we can continue your fight against the social norms.

  “I’m well aware it is how you and your cousins enjoy passing your time. We can build on your magick, harness your energy, use it to fuel your spells. Your plans for the pompous aristocracy, I can help with. If you wish it so even it would be my pleasure to open their eyes to the beings who walk among them who are forced by fear to be secret about who they really are, witch or vampire or other. I was cast out by them in life as a crazy, failed inventor they called me. Now, in death, I still can’t walk among them less I give into the damnable anger they bring about in me. Please don’t worry with you, love. You… I could never hurt you. I’ve gotten closer and closer each night, letting my body adjust to everything about yours, the smell of your skin, the sound of your heart beating, the way your sweet blood courses through your veins. There have been many nights lately I believe you have purposefully let your wards down around your room in hopes I would come in. I did, I just didn’t make myself known.”