Callie - An Enchantress Novel - Book 1

Chapter 3

Dedicated to @Hellvis check out her story 'Sensitive To The Light' for an awsome vampire story!

Callie gradually became aware of warmth seeping through to her bones, chasing away a chill she had vaguely been aware of for some time now. Her eyes fluttered and a breathy moan escaped her lips. Exhaustion, almost as if she had a bad case of the flu, left her aching from head to toe. She reached down to pull the duvet over her head to block out the persistent light that was making her eyes and head ache. What she felt instead of her duvet made her pause. Cracking open her eyes a little, she realized she was not in her bed. She glanced cautiously around and seeing the jet-black tiles, chrome taps and chrome shower hose in front of her, she knew she wasn't in her own home either.

"Hi there, how do you feel?" a tender, yet very masculine voice asked from behind where her head lay on the bath.

"Like I've just been run over by a bus," Callie croaked.

Her mind raced, frantically trying to piece together how she came to be in a stranger's bathroom; still fully clothed in her favourite red suit that was now soaked and ruined. Nothing came to her. The last thing she remembered was walking down High Street on her way to her new job.

She fought rising panic. Sitting up gingerly, she pushed a hand through her wet hair, and turned to look at the stranger who had spoken. Aged about twenty-five, his dark hair was short and lightly gelled into spikes. His build was slim, from what she could make out beneath the loose shirt, and his features were like one of those models from her favourite magazines, with a little stubble almost hiding the dimple on his chin. His eyes were his defining feature; a mesmerizing deep blue that seemed to look through to her soul. He was the epitome of handsome.

"Who...who are you?" she stuttered. "Where am I? How did I get here? ...Crap what time is it?" She tried to get up. "And why am I in your bath tub?"

Although husky, her voice carried a musical lilt that mesmerised him. He shook his head to clear it and focused his attention on answering her questions.

"I take it you don't remember what happened?" he asked. "I'll explain. Firstly, my name is Sam Morrow. You're in my flat on High Street just above the office. As for how you got here, that's a bit of a long story. Before we get into that, I think you should drink this, dry off and put on that robe. Join me in the sitting room and I'll explain everything when you're ready." With that, he handed her a lukewarm beaker with a straw poking out the top.

After he left and closed the door, she staggered over to turn the lock before stripping out of her ruined suit. She stepped back into the bath and let the hot water stream over her naked body in the hopes that it would wake her up. Her head swam due to both weakness and questions.

Why don't I remember how I got here and what the hell happened to my suit? she thought in puzzlement. I should run screaming from this place. That guy could be a rapist or a murderer, look at Uncle George for crying out loud. No one believed us about George and his late night visits just because he didn't look like a paedophile. Seriously, Cal, get a grip! she chastised herself. But why, then, do I feel safe here?

As she argued with herself over what she should do, she absentmindedly dried her body, and on coming across a tender patch on her abdomen, she looked down to see a faint scar running from just below her belly button to her left hip. Where the hell did that come from? This just gets weirder...

After slipping on the robe, she sipped the drink for the first time. It was quite thick and syrupy with a salty sweetness that stuck to the roof of her mouth and coated her tongue as she swallowed. Before she knew it, she had drained every drop, slurping as the straw drew air from the bottom of the covered beaker. Weakness and lethargy faded instantly. She walked into the sitting room feeling better than she had done in years.