Cassandra narrowed her eyes, fixing her gaze on the flames. For a second, she thought she saw—no, it was impossible. Yet again she focused on the flames. They twirled into shapes, the shapes were letters—no, she was not imagining things. This was real.
Cassie leaned closer and read the message quickly:
Broken frame
End the game
“Does this mean… what I think it means?” Cassie mused.
“Are you all right, sweetie pie?” Mona said with an air of suspicion.
But could it be as simple as that? No higher charm or spell, but the easiest task? The simplest solution often is the right solution… “It’s worth a shot,” Cassandra whispered.
Quick and agile as a fox, Cassandra grabbed the cake’s knife, jumped on the sofa, and leaped onto the chimney’s mantel.
“Cassandra!” Mom said, her mouth agape with incredulity. “What are you doing, child!”
Josie rose from the sofa with widened eyes, marveled at Cassandra’s acrobatics. “She’s gone mad!” she said in awe, pressing her small hands against her blushing cheeks.
“Get away from that portrait!” Mona growled, rising from the chair.
“Brace yourself, Mona,” Cassie said, turning back only to give her a wicked look. “This might sting a little!” She plunged the knife deep in the middle of the portrait, holding the handle wit both hands, she drove the keen knife down, splitting in half Mona and Dad’s wedding photograph.
“Broken frame, end the game…” she mused, satisfied. Cassandra jumped back on the sofa, then onto the rug. She left the knife on the coffee table and dusted her hands clean wearing the most confident of smiles.
Mona roared. “You’ll pay for this, witch!” In a flash, Mona lunged at her, tackling Cassie to the floor. They wrestled on the carpet, rolling and grunting as two ultimate fighters on the ring.
“Get her, Cassie!” Mathilde cheered, climbing on the sofa next to them.
“I’m… trying!” Cassandra muttered, one hand gripping Mona’s wrist, driving away from her face the vixen’s pointy black fingernails.
“Enough! Stop this at once, both of you!” Denise got on the floor, willing to separate them. In the struggle, her camera went off several times—the flash all but blinding Mona.
“Arg! I can’t see!” Mona cried, covering her eyes with both hands.
Cassandra seized the moment and in one quick move, she rolled on top of Mona. She sat on her shoulders, pinning her to the floor.
The lights came back.
“Well, it wasn’t a fuse,” André said, stepping out of the kitchen. “Anyway, how about a nice slice of—hey! What is going on here?” Dad stopped halfway through the living room. “Cassie, why are you sitting on top of that young lady?”
Unable to move from Cassandra’s lock, Mona growled. “André…! No!” she muttered.
Dad moved closer. “I’m sorry,” he said, tilting his head as he addressed Mona. “Do I know you, Miss?” He paused. “Cassandra, where are your manners? Please, let go of the young lady.”
Is this really happening? Cassandra got on her feet and moved away from Mona. The vixen rushed to Dad’s arms.
“André, please try to remember!” Mona cried. “I’m your wife!”
Dad flinched. “My wife?” he said, and loosening from Mona’s embrace, he stepped back. “You’re old enough to be my daughter… I could never marry you. I love Denise,” wrapping his arm around Mom’s waist. “I’ve loved her since we were kids.”
With quivering lips and bloodshot eyes, Mona moved closer. “No, André! I’m your wife! That’s our wedding picture!” pointing at the ripped portrait above the chimney.
André knitted his brow. “Is that a joke?” He laughed, heading towards the chimney. “Look at that thing—it’s a blank canvas, and it’s damaged. We should throw it away.”
Cassandra looked at the portrait. The photograph had completely disappeared! She turned to her mother, and when their eyes met, Cassie noticed her amazement. Little Josie’s mouth was agape, holding her doll tight. Mathilde slipped her hand over Josie’s chin and pushed it up, closing her mouth.
“I’m terribly sorry, Miss… But this is a family celebration. It’s our daughter’s birthday.” André opened the front door. “Run along, now. I’m sure your parents must be worried sick about you.”
Mona snatched her clutch purse off the sofa. “But, André—”
“Not another word, young lady.” Dad escorted her out of the house.
Defeated, with the heel of her hand, Mona cleared the smeared mascara from her face. She picked up her Jimmy Choo’s from the floor and walked out the door.
Dad closed the door. When he turned, he took his hands to his hips and sighed. “That girl needs some serious help,” he said. “I wonder if I should have called 911 instead…” He pursed his lips.
“I think you did enough,” Mom said.
“Oh, well…” André smiled and held Mom’s hand. “Where were we?”
“Honey…” Mom whispered. “We should talk.”
“Sure, darling Dee,” Dad said. “But first, let’s have some cake!” He picked up Josie and carried her over his shoulders. Josie laughed and led them back to the living room, pointing the way with her finger.
The three of them moved out of the foyer while Mathilde stayed behind.
“Cassie?” Mathilde asked. “What exactly did you wish for?”
Cassandra hinted a smile of mischief. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you…” she said, wrapping one arm over Mathilde’s shoulders, both sniggering as they headed to the living room.
Marianne
Months had passed since she’d last seen her preternatural family. Marianne dared not return to Villa Belle Vedere, not after the Coven affair. She couldn’t face Ivan. Surely, he resented her for putting the whole family at risk of annihilation. And she couldn’t think of laying eyes on Phillip again, Marianne’s betrayal must have shattered his heart.
She never should have broken the rules. Had she stayed away from Michael he’d probably be alive today—the sole thought tortured her endlessly.
More than ever, Marianne wished she believed that death was a sweet release from this world, as Eirik had once suggested. Unfortunately, she didn’t.
The warm summer breeze tousled her long hair. From her lair’s rooftop in Pacific Heights, Marianne’s gaze lost in the bay’s serene landscape. She enjoyed spending time in this part of the house though she hardly ever slept there.
“How is your heart?” a voice asked, breaking her train of thought.
Marianne turned. He stood there, in brown leather sandals, casual blue jeans and an Armani white shirt with sleeves folded below his elbows. His golden hair was gathered in a low coil, and his piercing blue eyes were warm and caring as their gaze landed on her. A minute passed before he sat beside her.
“Hmmm?” he asked, raising his brow in the most endearing manner. It made her smile.
“It’s seen better days,” she said, lowering her gaze.
“It will heal,” he whispered. “It takes time.”
“I’ve missed you, Eirik,” Marianne confessed, an immediate warmth rushed to her face. Was she actually blushing? She hadn’t seen him in so long.
He seemed pleasantly surprised. “I’ve… missed you too, Marianne.” Eirik looked away, stretching his lips in a timid smile, one hand rubbing the nape of his neck.
“I’ve often thought about what happened.” Marianne bit her lower lip. “I know I have you to thank for my release… and my life.”
Eirik dismissed the entire thread of conversation with a swift hand gesture, shaking his head.
“I have also learned of your terrible fame…” She teased him raising her brow.
“Oh?” he uttered. “Have you?” There was a hint of restlessness in his velvety voice.
“Mm-hmmm,” she nodded. “Eirik Bjorn, The Skull Splitter. The millenary blood drinker that shows no mercy.”
He conceded to her
game with a quick nod. “You've forgotten The Undefeated Scandinavian Warlord…” He sniggered, in spite of himself. “But that sounds about right.”
“Your name stirs both dread and devotion amidst our brethren.” She paused. “Which makes me even more grateful for the role you played in my rescue.”
Eirik turned. Marianne discovered a deep sense of longing in his blue eyes . “You are safe and that’s all that matters,” he said, finalizing the subject. “I wish I could return the gleam of joy to your eyes.”
“I’m sure you will,” she said. Her hand landed on his, smooth and firm as marble.
Eirik glided his hand away. Was something wrong? The corner of his lips curled in a gentle smile. His strong arms wrapped her in a long embrace.
In this nearness, he leaned close to her ear. “Come away with me,” he whispered. His serene eyes fixed on hers. “I have traveled the world only to find it dull without your company…” He paused. “I want you by my side, Marianne.”
Perhaps I need you by my side would have rung better to her ears. But the words had been spoken and now lingered in midair, and Marianne held each one in her heart.
For months without end, she had thought about this precise moment. In the back of her mind, she had always known the time would come to ask herself the question: Would she remain here, in her hometown, dying a little more each day as the tormenting memories ate away her soul? Or maybe, just maybe, for the first time in her life, she would take the plunge into the world.
Would she risk it all for the promise of true love? The answer was one she discovered in Eirik’s bright blue eyes.
“Yes,” she said. “I will.”
Cassandra & Ivan
Twilight set in. The magnolia trees stirred a citrus fragrance as the warm wind rustled their leaves. Cassandra opened her eyes. The movers placed the last box inside the van. They locked the doors and drove off.
“Life moves on… That old cliché,” she mused. A soft whirlwind twirled before her, carrying pink and white petals and green leaves.
It felt like the end of an era—closing those doors behind her. Perhaps a long time would pass before she ever walked through Deveraux Hall’s threshold again.
It was a wish come true. Her parents had solved their differences. They were a family again. Then, why did a trace of bitterness tarnish her joy?
Cassandra’s life had changed so much over the past few months—she had changed. On the night of her twenty-first birthday, a dozen lawyers had paraded into Deveraux Hall requesting to speak with her. She had been designated the sole heiress to the Deveraux fortune. Annette's Mora clock and grimoire had been tokens of Granny’s affection, but this was far from a birthday gift. Taking on the Deveraux’s legacy was a huge responsibility. Was she even ready for such a thing? She had to be now.
Her phone’s ringer went off.
“Allô?” she said. It was her cousin, Jeanette, calling from Paris. “Oui, bien sûr,” she said, stepping off the porch. “I’ll see you at the airport… Bon. Bisous.”
The black Mercedes pulled into the driveway. The chauffeur opened the door and waited for her to step inside.
“To the airport, Miss?” he asked, looking at her through the rearview mirror.
“Not yet,” she said. “We’ll stop by a friend’s house first.” Cassandra put on her sunglasses and relaxed into the comfortable seat. She slipped on the EarPods and turned on her iPod.
Ivan noticed a familiar face on his front porch as he stepped out of his car. Fortunately, he’d just dined out. He was in the mood for social interaction.
“This is unexpected.” He removed his sunglasses and smiled.
“I thought I’d show up in your house for a change.” She shrugged.
Cassandra looked positively preppy in her white short skirt and black-and-white striped cashmere sweater, but something else was different.
“You cut your hair,” he said, amazed. The short dark mane just below her jawline suited her quite well and even gave her an air of maturity.
She sniggered. “No more bangs,” she said with a shy smile.
“Come inside,” he said, opening the villa’s front door. “It’s only fair after all the times I’ve broken into your home…” He laughed under his breath. “I would offer you some tea or coffee… but since I have neither—”
“Don’t worry, Ivan.” Cassandra shook her head. “I’m good.”
They sat on the parlor’s sofa. Antoine would be happy to see her—they hadn’t seen each other in weeks. It was all he ever talked about. Ivan was actually looking forward to their meeting.
Now accustomed to his newest vampiric abilities, Ivan sharpened his preternatural senses, detecting Antoine quickly. He was on his way home, minutes away from walking through those doors. He should have picked up Cassandra’s presence by now.
“I… um…” Cassandra tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I came to say goodbye.”
“What?” He certainly had not expected to hear that. “You’re leaving?”
She nodded. “I’m moving back to Paris with my family,” she said. “Mom’s going to teach me the family trade,” widening her eyes.
“So Denise and André are really back together,” he mused. “Well… I suppose that’s good news.” Ivan tilted his head, weighing the possibilities.
“They are,” she said. “Everything changed after the Mona Mai Incident.”
“Don’t underestimate your skills, Cassandra.” He sniggered. “What you did was bloody brilliant. I would have killed to see the look on Mona’s face when your father kicked her out!”
Cassandra repressed a smile. “It was rather funny…”
“What ever became of her?” Ivan was beginning to enjoy this chitchat. He could get used to it, but Cassandra wouldn’t be around anymore. Too bad.
“Last I heard, she moved to LA…” Cassandra read the time on her wristwatch with a quick glance. “She hasn’t bothered us since.”
“Sounds like one of Denise’s protection spells.” He sighed. “Anyway, good luck in Paris.” What memories it evoked in his preternatural mind! He’d invested too many mortal lifetimes in La Ville Lumière.
“Ivan...” Cassandra pursed her lips. “Thank you for believing in me.” The words moved her to tears, but she held her poise.
“Oh… Come on,” Ivan shrugged. “None of that.”
“It’s true. You believed in me more than I ever believed in myself,” she said, fiddling her fingers. “You made me remember who I am.”
“You’re a Deveraux, Cassandra,” he said. “Never forget your powerful lineage again… So, when is your flight?”
“Um… It leaves tonight.” She half smiled. “I’d like to say goodbye to Antoine—is he around?”
Not anymore, he wanted to say. Antoine’s presence had vanished minutes ago, right about the time when Cassie had mentioned she was moving to Paris.
“You know, I don’t think he’s here…” he uttered. “Maybe, I could—?”
“You don’t have to cover for him.” She shrugged. “I know of your vampiric superpowers.”
He slumped in his seat. “I’m sorry, Cassie.”
“That’s okay,” a bitter smile, getting on her feet. “Say goodbye to him for me?”
Ivan nodded. They remained silent as they walked to the door. Cassandra went ahead. She reached the porch’s steps and suddenly, she stopped. When she turned, her tearful eyes locked on his. Pursing her lips, Cassandra ran to his arms. He never expected it, but her embrace warmed his heart.
Ivan wrapped his arms around her.
This was nice.
Cassandra had worked her most powerful spell yet. In that moment, Ivan turned into more than the Deveraux’s preternatural guardian… He became part of her family.
“Goodbye, Ivan.” Cassie hinted a smile.
“This isn’t goodbye,” he whispered. “I’ll be seeing you.”
Phillip
Raindrops tapped against the cool windowpane. An impressionist
panorama lay before his eyes—blotches of green, white, and pink, disarrayed by the copious rain.
Phillip placed the magazine over his lap. The hazy weather had allowed him to leave home early. He loved this kind of evening.
An electrical chimney crackled spreading warmth into the small office. The room’s cozy atmosphere took him back to the wondrous days of his youth. Sally Porter—his first mortal love—came to his mind unexpectedly, along with the memory of the first of their many kisses.
Sally Porter… She had been a dream. A pretty girl of seventeen with long golden brown hair, enchanting hazel eyes and porcelain skin, crimson lips and ruddy cheeks. The year was 1916—a year before his father had been called to the War. Tall and well built, Phillip looked older than sixteen years of age, which gave him a tremendous advantage in his love pursuits.
Their first night together had been a glimpse of heaven. He could almost listen to their song playing in the distance—Harry Macdonough’s I love you best of all.
He returned the magazine to the desk. The different car models would have to wait, and so would Sally Porter’s memory, for someone else demanded his attention. She had stepped into the office minutes ago.
Disregarding all matters was easy in her presence. His eyes captured every detail of her curvaceous figure without an ounce of discretion. She blushed, noticing Phillip’s scrutinizing stare.
What do you see in me: A handsome man, a potential client… A one-night stand?
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Blackwell,” she said. “Have you decided on a specific model?”
“I have,” he said. “But I would like to see them before making a commitment.”
“Love…” She blushed. “I mean, I’d love to show you the latest imports.”
“I would like that very much.” He stood from the chair and followed her out of the office.
They reached the garage. The rolling curtain was closed. She took the key from her pocket and removed the padlock.
“Please,” he said, stepping in. “Allow me. These doors get jammed from time to time…”
Call of Blood: A Novel of The Unnatural Brethren Page 31
