The Cursed by Blood Saga

by Marianne Morea

  “Does she seem happy? How is she being treated?”

  “The people seem very nice and they tell me she’s adjusting slowly. Her nurse, Jeannette, is a blessing, and doing everything possible to get her to interact with the other residents. I just have to keep reminding myself it’s not a nursing home. Nanita has her own apartment and still does almost everything for herself. It’s just that I have peace of mind knowing there’s a full nursing staff right there twenty-four/seven if she needs it.”

  “It’s all good then, so why do you sound so down about it?” Susan asked, concerned.

  Trina lifted one shoulder and let it drop, yet despite herself, tears pricked the corners of her eyes. “I guess I can’t help but feel guilty about being away from her, but with school and working nights, there was no way I could be around like I was before.”

  Susan gave Trina’s shoulders a squeeze. “It’s for the best, you’ll see, and she’s going to love it. You know how hard change can be for most people. Can you imagine at her age? How old is your great-grandmother now anyway?”

  Trina wiped a stray tear away with her knuckle, and chuckled to herself. “I have no idea, if you can believe that! She won’t tell me and I’ve even tried snooping in her papers, but everything she’s got is locked up in a safe deposit box.”

  “No way!” Susan laughed.

  “Yeah, go figure. She told me everything I ever wanted to know about her would be given to me when she passes.”

  Exhaling loudly, Louie turned around and clapped. “Okay…on that delightful note, let’s get started, or did you forget that you asked us over for a reason?”

  Like a five-star general in designer boots he turned on his heel and surveyed the entire room. In seconds, he had the place transformed into an interior design triage unit. He sent Trina to shower and dress, and Susan to make some coffee while he packed boxes.

  “What time is the furniture being delivered?” he called up the stairs as he heard Trina come out of the bathroom.

  “They said between three and five o’clock, but I managed to get them to put us last on their schedule so we could have more time to prepare,” she yelled down, slipping into jeans and a T-shirt.

  Trina had wanted to do this for as long as she could remember. She was proud of her Spanish heritage and had listened for years as her great-grandmother talked about her life in Spain with such nostalgia. Leaving wasn’t her choice, but Trina’s great-grandfather had made his life in England, and his wife had no alternative but to follow. Back then, she was only able to take a few of her favorite pieces with her, and as the years passed and they immigrated to the States, she had no choice but to leave even more behind.

  It had taken a while, but Trina located some of her great-grandmother’s lost things, and now they were in transit to arrive in New York today. Smiling to herself, she imagined the look on the old woman’s face when she finally saw everything she believed lost to time and circumstance. Trina prayed the surprise didn’t give the old woman heart failure.

  They packed boxes and moved furniture all afternoon. Susan helped Trina press and hang the delicate lace sheers on the bay window in the parlor, while Louie fastened the heavy brackets needed to support the ornate curtain rod Trina had bought for the drapes.

  “Where’d you find these? They’re gorgeous! And so authentic looking,” Susan said admiring one of the bronze rosettes Trina struggled with at the end of the heavy rod.

  “That’s because they are. I searched the Internet for weeks trying to find a pair that fit the description of the ones my great-grandmother had in her house in Spain.”

  “Uhm, can you hurry it up over there? This rod weighs a ton, especially with these brocade monsters you call drapes hanging from it. When you asked me to help, you neglected to mention this redecoration project was going to be straight out of Gone with the Wind. I hope you don’t expect me to make you a dress from this lot,” Louie added dryly.

  Trina rolled her eyes. “Keep your panties on, princess, I’m almost done.”

  Looking at the clock on the mantel, she frowned. “I wonder where that delivery truck can be.” Climbing down, she dragged the stepladder to the other end of the window seat and took the rod from Louie, hoisting it into its bracket.

  The doorbell rang.

  “Finally!” Louie said, rolling his shoulders before sweeping out of the parlor to open the front door. He directed the deliverymen like Toscanini conducting a symphony. The art of Feng Shui at its worst, with each piece choreographed to the point of being painful.

  When the guys were finished, Trina gave them each an apologetic look and twenty dollars. “Well, that was easier said than done,” she muttered, closing the front door. She walked back across the tiled foyer into the parlor where Louie stood looking at the line of photographs, artfully displayed on the oak mantelpiece.

  “Wow! And who is this hottie?” he asked, picking up an older photo that was propped against the wall.

  “That’s a photograph of my great-grandfather. I think it was taken some time in the early 1920s.”

  “Kind of delicious in a Clark Gable sort of way, don’t you think?” Putting the picture back, he sighed wistfully. “They just don’t grow men like that anymore.”

  Susan rolled her eyes. “Okay, Betty Davis, back to work,” she said, and hoisted the last of the boxes to be moved onto her hip. “Hey, Trin…speaking of delicious, you’ll never guess who’s been at the club almost every night.” Not waiting for an answer, she leaned in, her eyes flashing with the juicy secret. “It was that guy, the sexy one who gave me that all that cash. He’s definitely not one of the walking wounded, if you know what I mean. Plus, he isn’t shy about spreading the wealth. He doesn’t say much, but who cares when there’s such a terrific view?”

  Trina laughed as she picked up leftover bubble wrap from the floor. “Really? The walking wounded? I don’t think Avalon quite cuts it as a hangout for urban intellectuals.”

  “That’s because you’ve been stuck working the dance floor bar. After all the times you’ve covered for me up in the gallery, it’s time you asked Rick for a couple of permanent shifts. Tips are better, and you can actually hear yourself think—not to mention a serious decrease in the weirdness factor. It’s true. The closer the proximity to the dance floor, the more weirdos per square foot!”

  Trina laughed. “That I believe!” she said shoving the bubble wrap into a garbage bag. “I’ll ask Rick tonight and see what he thinks.”

  “Honey, for what it’s worth, I think Susan’s right. You deserve a bit of a break. And besides, what could be better than working with moi,” Louie added cheekily.

  “Not a thing,” Trina said with a wink, and headed back toward the windows. With a few final tugs at the brocade, she turned and dusted off her hands. “Voila! I think we’re done. How does it look?”

  With his finger on his chin, Louie walked back and forth in front of the window. “Amazing. I thought for sure it would look out of date, a real dust fest. But, honey, it’s just elegant. Very old world. Well done, girl!”

  “He’s right, sweetie, it’s perfect,” Susan said, holding the old photographs Trina had used as a decorating guide. “It looks as if you reached straight into the photos and took the whole room out of time and space.”

  Turning the yellowed and cracked images over in her hand, she whistled long and low, glancing at the faded dates written on the back. “Wow. Some of these are seriously old. I always knew your family had been in the States for a while, but based on these, it’s even longer than I thought.”

  Trina grabbed a bottle of water from the coffee table and sat on the bottom rung on the ladder. She took a sip, toying with the bottle’s plastic cap. “Well, I know most of my family is originally from Spain and England, but I’m not really sure how or when they immigrated to the States. It must have been a while ago because this house has been in the family for about one hundred years.” She frowned, looking around. “Looks it too.”

  “No honey, it’s
vintage, and vintage is just fabulous!” Louie said with his usual joie de vivre. “Besides, do you expect to do everything yourself? You’re finishing school, you work, and you take care of your great-grandmother—so unless you’re hiding it in that closet of yours, I don’t remember you having a red spandex outfit with the words Super Girl written across the chest!”

  Susan’s lips twitched. “No, sweetie, that’s your department!”

  Laughing, Trina sucked in a breath and nearly choked, spraying water everywhere. Coughing and sputtering, her eyes streamed as she wiped her hand across her mouth and chin, staring at Susan’s matter-of-fact expression.

  “Meow, meow, meow” Louie answered, wrinkling his nose.

  “Come on. Let’s clean up and go get a drink. We deserve it after a job well done.” Susan said handing Trina a bunch of paper towels, and giving her back one last pat. “Whaddaya think? Martinis?”

  “Amen to that, sister!” Louie snorted, sweeping past her toward the front door.

  ***

  The three walked into Angelo & Maxie’s on 19th Street and Park Avenue and sat down at the bar. “Order me a lemon drop martini with extra sugar on the rim. I’ll be back in a sec,” Trina said, grabbing her bag and heading toward the restroom.

  Louie put his elbows on the counter and linked his fingers together. “So, when are you going to tell me why you so graciously offered to come help us today, hmmm?” Raising an eyebrow, he shot her a look. “Come on, Susan, I know you and you don’t offer to do manual labor for nothing. Spill it.”

  “That obvious, huh? I need to ask Trina to cover for me at the club tonight,” she admitted sheepishly. “Don’t look at me like that. I know she’s covered my ass a lot lately, but tonight is super important. My band is playing and there’s supposed to be some record company scout or somebody going to be there. I can’t miss it.”

  Louie swiveled his seat to face her. “You know she’s going to say yes. She always says yes, that’s half her problem. Except she never says yes when it counts, if you know what I mean. I swear, in her next life the woman’s coming back as a pack mule. She’s got to stop shouldering everything for everyone around her.” He looked at Susan over the top of his square-rimmed glasses. “When’s the last time Trina went out with a guy? Or went out at all, for that matter? It’s not right. She’s gorgeous and she’s wasting it. I mean, just look at her. She’s hot and everyone knows it but her.”

  Susan shrugged. “Maybe she just hasn’t found the right guy, Louie, that’s all.”

  “That’s what?” Trina asked as she walked back to the bar.

  Both Louie and Susan were too quiet, and Trina’s eyes narrowed a bit. She knew they had been talking about her, but she knew her friends well enough not to be annoyed. “Come on, guys, what gives?”

  “Susan has something she wants to ask you. Don’t you, Susan?” Louie said, deftly changing the subject.

  Susan shot Louie a dirty look. “He’s right,” she said with a guilty smile. “I need a favor, but first you have to promise you won’t get mad.”

  Trina just laughed as the bartender brought their drinks. “Susan, don’t you think I knew the minute you volunteered to help that something was up? Just tell me what it is you want.”

  “Can you cover for me at the club tonight? My band has an important gig and I can’t miss it. We’re not on till the third set so I can work until about midnight, but then I’ll have to run. Will you cover the rest of the night for me? That way if I punch in, Rick will think I’m somewhere else in the club and won’t give me any crap. I’ll be back by four a.m. I promise,” she said, crossing her heart.

  Trina sighed, shaking her head. “Yes, I’ll cover for you…again. I’ll meet you at the club at midnight and don’t worry about rushing back. But you owe me. You have to take my shift tomorrow night as well as next Saturday or no deal.”

  Susan squealed. “Thank you!” she squealed, and jumped up giving Trina a squeeze. “And don’t worry. I’ll cover whatever shifts you want.”

  Trina laughed, pulling out a chair to sit down. “You’d better or I’m telling Rick.”

  Louie looked at Trina, impressed. “Wow, honey, I’m proud of you. You actually bargained for yourself this time and got two weekends off out of the deal. It’s about time!”

  Trina just shrugged. “It’s no big. Who knows? Maybe I’ll get lucky.”

  Louie laughed. “Oh, honey, that would be a dream come true!”

  Trina closed her eyes as she took a sip of her drink. “You have no idea,” she said under her breath.

  Chapter Three

  With an aggravated sigh, Carlos settled himself back against one of the plush couches. He never fashioned himself a barfly, but with as many times as he’d frequented Avalon in the past two weeks, he was starting to fit the bill. And for what? A human girl who had some sort of extrasensory perception. Still, he was intrigued. Humans with sensitivities to his kind weren’t unheard of, but for her to have seen through his wards? Perhaps he was losing his touch after so many centuries.

  He had already scanned the club, but sent his senses out again just to be sure. He half expected every young blood in Manhattan to show up and try their luck. It would be just like Sandro to stir up trouble for him as payment for what happened with his boys.

  He and Sandro had a long, unpleasant history. They had once been friends and rivals, though Sandro was older. However, that was a long time ago, and though they maintained a gracious front toward one another in public, they would never see eye to eye. In fact, Sandro had never forgiven Carlos for opening his home to Eric after Sandro had cast him off. Carlos had offered Eric a home and a chance at reclaiming some of his humanity, something that Sandro disdained. Cruelty was the only thing he understood.

  Sandro would retaliate; it was only a matter of time and place. He would consider Carlos’s actions excessive, even though his boys were clearly in the wrong. He would regard coming to the aid of an unclaimed human proof of Carlos’s weakness.

  He sighed again. He was so tired of all the infighting, of the impolitic cruelty of his kind, and hoped this time Sandro would be reasonable.

  Perhaps he would. From recent accounts reasonable seemed to be the trend du jour among the elite of his kind. Shockwaves reverberated through their close community at the fragile alliance the Vampire Council formed with Sean Leighton, Alpha of the Brethren of Weres. Sébastien, the council’s eldest and its self-appointed leader seemed especially taken with the furry lot of them, the Alpha’s mate, in particular. With the advent of Sébastien’s progeny going rogue, the vampires were indebted to the four-fanged, four-footed supe species.

  He sighed. The Weres did his kind a service he supposed, although the virus that caused Améile to degenerate was developed and disseminated by a Were, so in the end it was truly a one hand washes the other scenario. Both factions needed the other which lead to their tenuous understanding.

  He smiled ruefully. Not unlike the understanding he now shared with Sébastien. The virus touched almost every shadow house in the city, making willing blood donors a precious commodity. Every house except Carlos’s…, which eventually led the council to his doorstep.

  Still, although finally free of Sébastien and the Council of Vampires, Carlos could not shake the feeling he would eventually pay for his defiant attitude. A rueful smile played on his lips. Pensaremos en esto. We’ll see about that.

  He let go of the troubling thought and turned his attention back to the club. He inhaled and caught the scent of something new in the air. It wasn’t another vampire. This scent was dizzying yet familiar. Carlos didn’t turn his head, but he knew—it was her—and slowly slid his gaze around.

  She was of average height and had what looked in the dim light to be long, auburn hair, the same kind of soft, curling mass he loved to run his fingers through. Her body was curvy, healthy, and full, just the way he liked it, not the emaciated, heroin-addicted look that girls today preferred. And her eyes—greener than the deepest of Colombian em
eralds. He had etched their memory in his mind, but even his heightened recollection hadn’t done them justice.

  His mouth watered and his incisors lengthened. She seemed familiar, yet not. The feeling was both elusive, yet palpable, and went deeper than their fleeting moment in the stairwell. His body suffused with heat and his thirst hit him full on. He hadn’t had a physical reaction to someone like this in ages, and he willed himself to relax.

  “Hi,” she said with a smile. “Can I get you anything from the bar?” Pen in hand, she clicked the end of the ballpoint.

  “Bacardi 151, no ice,” he answered, his eyes never leaving hers.

  Her lips curved again. “No ice. Got it,” she repeated, and leaned forward to pick up a few empty glasses from the table. Giving it a quick wipe, she put a clean coaster down on the table and handed Carlos a napkin.

  Her smile sent shivers down his spine, but when his fingers brushed hers the feel of her skin was almost too much for him to bear. Her touch made the shivers electric, like sparks running up and down his back and straight into his groin.

  “I see by your name tag that you’re Trina. What a beautiful name. Is it short for Katrina?”

  “Nope. Alastrine. It’s Celtic for defender of mankind.” Trina shrugged. “My mother was fascinated with things of that nature, but thank you anyway.”

  “Both beautiful and unusual,” he said, taking her hand without warning. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you…Trina.” His eyes locked on hers and held for a fraction longer than was polite.

  The serving tray slid from her hand, and empty glasses and napkins fell to the carpet by her feet. Her hand flew to her stomach, and her fingers clutched the black satin of her low cut vest. She closed her eyes and inhaled, and as she filled her lungs, the increased volume pushed her full breasts tight against the shiny lapels.

  “Um, how are you doing? Would you like me to bring you more ice?” she stammered, as color flooded her cheeks.