by Marina Myles
She turned away from him and walked around the workshop. “I know you’re preparing for tonight’s show, but you never answered my question.”
“What question?”
“I want to know what you said to Patrick onstage.”
She stole a look over her shoulder. Drago remained silent as he ran his hands through his hair.
“Please tell me,” she said softly.
As they locked eyes, distress brought out the fine wrinkles across his forehead.
“You broke his jaw, Drago. The least you can do is admit the truth.”
His frown deepened, but still he didn’t answer her.
She went on. “Very well. I’ll tell you what Patrick claimed you said.”
Drago was listening intently.
“Apparently you said you’d do anything to keep me from him.” She paused. “Even commit murder.”
Drawing in a breath, Drago said, “He’s right.”
She gasped. “You can’t mean it—”
“Come sit with me, Rose.”
He indicated the stool. She sat. And after he pulled up a second stool, he reached for her hand across the worktop. “It’s time I told you everything about the amulet you’re wearing.”
She tensed. The necklace was hidden beneath her dress. She hadn’t taken it off since the night he’d given it to her.
“I have always wanted to get my hands on it. It possessed a dark history before it fell into the hands of a Romanian Gypsy tribe, a tribe that protected it for many years. Some of those Gypsies were my father’s relatives, so I felt compelled to track the necklace down. Once I did, I bought it from a private dealer. It’s familial, powerful, and sentimental all at the same time.”
“That explains why you had it,” Rose said. “But why did you give it to me?”
“I wanted it to blend in with the other gifts I gave you.”
“Blend in?”
“I didn’t want you to question it.”
“I’ve always suspected you used it to hypnotize me.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “As I said, the necklace has a dark history. It also has the special abilities of a talisman. The power to control and the power to re-direct someone’s fate.”
“What if I remove the necklace right now?” she asked.
He shook his head. “The spell it casts is permanent, even if you manage to take it off.”
“Permanent?”
“If you must know, the amulet’s hypnotic spell can only be lifted when I say it’s time.”
She locked eyes with him. “If this is true love between us, I don’t need the necklace to want to be with you. You should lift your spell.”
Drago jerked his head away. “Not yet. The amulet and its control are my way of protecting you.”
“Protect me from what?”
“It’s going to ensure that you do what I want.”
“Which is?”
“Carry out an act I saw in a vision.”
Her face flamed with frustration. “I don’t understand.”
“This has been overwhelming for you, Rose—and I don’t want to scare you further.”
“I can handle whatever it is. I’m twenty years old.”
Drago returned his dark stare to hers. “About that. If Morvina resurfaces, you’ll need all the protection you can get on your twenty-first birthday.”
“You know my Aunt Morvina?” Her pulse accelerated.
“I know something about her.”
Rose cocked a brow. “What, exactly?”
“That she is evil and heartless.”
“How do you know, Drago?”
“Please don’t ask me that.”
She frowned and studied the tools that lay on top of the table. “Does the amulet fit in with the threat you made to Patrick?”
“I didn’t mean that I will kill him.”
“Who, then?” she asked.
“Morvina, if she comes close to you.”
Rose squared her shoulders. She knew it was time to be brave and ask Drago everything. “What about the threat you made to take me from this world, if necessary. What did you mean by that?”
A heavy silence hung between them. Finally, Drago said, “Were people stunned by my disappearing act yesterday?”
“Yes,” Rose said. “My boss is especially curious about it. He took a photo of you, but there is no trace of your image.”
Urgency flashed in his eyes. “What has he done with this photo?”
“Nothing, yet.”
Drago reached for her hand and gripped it. “You must get that photograph, Rose. It’s of the utmost importance.”
“I can’t,” she cried. “I saw Richard lock it up.”
“Richard? Richard Bellum?”
“Yes.”
“Christ! That man has been a thorn in my side for months. Even more reason for you to confiscate the photo.” He paused. “I assume you’ve seen it?”
“Yes.”
“And it startled you, right?”
“Yes.”
Drago released her hand. The revealing glance he gave her made her blood freeze. “How do you know I didn’t enact real magic on the laundry line?”
Stunned, the possibility of what he said came crashing down on her. “A . . . are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“My manager confiscated all of the reporters’ film last night—except your boss’s, apparently,” he informed her. “We didn’t see him take my photo.”
Rose gripped her fingers tightly. “Why are you so worried about it?”
He sucked a breath. “If you must know, I don’t show up in photographs—or mirrors.”
She raised her hand to her mouth. “Are you some sort of ghost?”
“A ghost? No. I’m a warlock.”
“Good God!”
Drago rose and paced before her. “I’m putting myself at risk by telling you this, but you’d have found out sooner or later.”
Rose’s nerves began to fray like the seams of an ancient garment.
“ ‘Warlock’ is actually a weak term for what I am,” he explained. “I’m a powerful lord of black magic. And if I desire, I can take you from the here and now into another lifetime.”
The revelation tilted Rose’s world off its axis. She’d always been fascinated with magic, but seeing it this close frightened her like nothing else. Shaken to the core, she asked, “Take me into another lifetime? You mean time travel?”
He nodded grimly.
Struggling to breathe, she fanned herself with her handbag. “I don’t believe it.”
“It’s true,” he said. “When a vision of Morvina came to me, I saw you in the same vision.”
“That’s how you know about my aunt—and my curse?”
He nodded solemnly.
Horrified, she murmured, “It explains all the birthday gifts . . . and why you want to protect me.”
“I was a magician for many years in Romania,” Drago explained. “And using my powers here in America was the only way to find you.”
“Don’t you mean it’s the only way I would come to you?”
“Yes,” he said quietly. “If you’re under my wing, Morvina can’t hurt you.”
“I don’t know who to be more afraid of.”
“I’d never hurt you. I fell in love with you in my vision.”
Denial and terror mingled inside her. She turned away. “I need time to process this.”
He grimaced. “There’s more. You need to know the details of the amulet, before you hear them from somebody else.”
Without meeting his gaze, she braced herself.
“The necklace belonged to an Egyptian princess named Tousret. When Tousret took a lover named Amenhotep who was a priest from her court, the action sealed both of their fates. The Underworld God, Anubis, willed Tousret to kill Amenhotep. Then Anubis forced her to turn the knife on herself as punishment. Now any female who dons the necklace is doomed to murder her lover, then commit suicide.”
“Wha
t?” Rose screeched. “How could you do this to me?” She leapt off the stool and made for the door.
Drago stopped her with a thrust of his arm against the portal. “A bracelet made by Amenhotep’s fellow priests can neutralize the prophecy. Counteract the dark forces.” He paused. “I have it.”
The bracelet in his bedroom.
The information made her feel a little better, but not much. She tried to yank the door open, but the pressure of his hand was too strong.
“I know something about you, Rose. When we met, you secretly hoped my powers were real. Hoped they could alter the path of your curse.”
“Maybe I did—”
“Now that you know the truth, I can help you with Morvina’s spell.”
She stopped pulling on the doorknob. “Y . . . you can?”
“In my vision, I saw the accident you’re going to face. But if you cooperate with my plan, you won’t die.”
“What plan?”
“There’s no need to frighten you now. I’ll tell you when your twenty-first birthday draws closer.”
Rose’s breath became ragged and she sagged against the door. Is Drago my only hope for survival?
“You aren’t going to die,” Drago assured her, “at least, not because of the amulet.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The necklace won’t put you in danger because it’ll allow me to direct you. Moreover, I’ll be wearing the bracelet of Amenhotep on your birthday.”
She looked at him. Tears lined her face. “This is all so confusing.”
He stroked her cheek. “I can’t tell you everything right now. But you need to trust me. Do you, Rose?”
She knew she should run out on him right then. He’d lied to her. His magic couldn’t be explained. It was deceptive of him, yes. Yet, she realized why he’d been untruthful. He was here to guard her.
Finally, she replied, “I trust you.”
“Good,” he said. “Now whatever you do, don’t tell anyone about this conversation.”
Her hands shook.
“If I’m going to shield you from Morvina,”—he knitted his brows—“the fewer people who know about my powers, the better. You can’t tell anyone I enact genuine magic. There’s much at stake here.”
She hesitated.
He continued to frown. “Promise me.”
“I promise.”
He squeezed her arm. “I mean it, Rose.”
“You have to know that I’m scared, Drago. I don’t want to deceive anyone.”
“Not even Morvina?”
She made no reply.
“If you give away my identity, the police will seize me and I won’t be able to protect you from her.”
Goosebumps blanketed her arm. “I swear I won’t tell anyone you’re a sorcerer.”
He gathered her to him. “I realize this is mind-boggling information. And I know you have no loyalty to me, especially with my dark powers. But my capabilities aren’t meant to scare you. They’ll be a godsend, you’ll see.” He paused. “You have to trust me.”
Why does he keep saying that?
“I need to prepare for my show now. Say you’ll come to the theater tomorrow night. After my performance.”
Ultimately, she agreed.
“Until then, my sweet Rose. And remember: mum’s the word.”
CHAPTER 15
Morvina despised New York City. Perspiring beneath her jacket, she paced in front of an open window. She hated the automobiles’ incessant honking and the voices she heard day and night. July in this city was stiflingly hot and repressively humid. And the energy of the place never slowed down.
The combination of these things made Morvina pine for the mountain breezes of her homeland. She planned to return there when this was all over.
After I destroy Rose.
Morvina threw her head back in laughter. Rose has no idea I’m this close to her. Close enough to hear her talk about her hopes and her dreams.
On another peal of laughter, Morvina considered another juicy secret. No one knows I’m an enchantress . . . an enchantress who’s resorted to occupying someone else’s body.
As one of the last two remaining Immortals, she intended to defeat Dragomir Starkov in the Victory. And she required the strength and the endurance only a male body could provide.
She looked down at her hands. Hairy, large. A man’s hands. Sighing, she took a turn around the room. She’d chosen her male victim very carefully. Now, staying hidden inside this new identity was exhausting. But that’s one of the things demons were capable of. If they wanted to become a new person at any given time, they could possess and occupy any foreign body they chose.
“The beauty of evil lies in its ability to take various forms.” She whispered her motto as she studied the photographs adorning the parlor walls. She put a fist up to one photo in particular. Rose. With her pert, etched nose, glossy lips and rare, violet eyes, she was undeniably beautiful. Unfortunately, Morvina’s plan to destroy Rose couldn’t be executed until the girl’s twenty-first birthday.
“Patience,” the enchantress said under her breath.
Rose’s torment over knowing that her twenty-first birthday would be her last had been Morvina’s only source of satisfaction over the years. That’s not to say Morvina hadn’t dreamt about killing her niece in violent ways. Poison. Pushing the girl from a window so she’d smash against the pavement. A fatal gunshot wound from a distance would have been satisfying, too.
But these were just entertaining scenarios Morvina envisioned in order to pass the time. She’d have to wait until Rose’s curse was realized to see Rose dead.
However, it was extremely hard to wait.
Morvina hated her niece, it was true. In fact, she’d resented Rose from the instant she wasn’t invited to Rose’s christening. But Morvina’s loathing went deeper than that. Morvina had been a sorceress for centuries and she’d been privy to a premonition that Rose would grow up to be extraordinarily beautiful. Something Morvina never was.
In fact, her appearance had been the one thing she couldn’t change in the beginning. She began with a body gnarled by arthritis, but following each attack she exacted in her demonic state, she gained the ability to morph her appearance into a better-looking woman. With every drop of blood Morvina extracted from pretty girls, she acquired more beauty and youth.
At this point, I’m almost as stunning underneath it all as I want to be. But not quite.
Rose held the key to Morvina’s final improvements. Once Rose died and Morvina sucked out her soul, Morvina would transform into the perfect woman.
Someone who will live forever as the world’s ultimate beauty. But first, she had to defeat Drago in the Victory to ensure her immortality . . .
Rose entered the newspaper office in slow motion. The clatter of the typewriters and the hum of the presses rang in her ears like deafening church bells. She’d been awake all night, agonizing over the information that had poured out of Drago. He’d begged her to keep his warlock identity secret and to steal the photograph Richard had taken of him. In the meantime, her boss was demanding all the information she was willing to give.
I’m certainly not going to tell Richard that Drago is a lord of black magic.
Rubbing her bleary eyes, she sat at her desk. Perhaps a little nap wouldn’t hurt . . .
Before she could rest her head and close her eyes, Richard charged over with his hands stuffed in his pockets.
“Come to my office,” he commanded.
Once she was settled inside his work space, he shut the door. “Did you polish the story about the sweatshop shutting down on East Eighty-Second Street?”
“Yes,” she answered. “I finished it yesterday.”
“Good.” He puffed on his cigarette. “You know, Rose, the pressure’s on.”
She stiffened. “Excuse me?”
“Phillip Cameron just secured an exclusive interview with Harry Houdini. You know what that means . . .”
“Not really.�
�� She feigned ignorance.
“It means that this department needs to produce an exposé on Dragomir Starkov as soon as possible. If I don’t come up with some scorching inside information, I’m gone. You will be gone, too.”
Rose’s heart nearly failed to beat. “Fired?”
“Oh, yes.” He glanced at her. “I hope you’re going to tell me that you stayed up all night in order to coax some ripe information out of your suitor.”
She glowered. “Dragomir Starkov is an expert at keeping things to himself.”
“Does that mean you tried to coax something out of him?”
“It means that he prefers not to talk about anything personal,” Rose replied. “Maintaining a mysterious aura helps him to keep his secrets close to the vest.”
Agitation replaced the gloom in Richard’s expression. “I couldn’t give a whit what this magician ‘prefers’. Keep working on him. I’ve found out all I can about him and now I’m at the end of my rope. You, however, can use those warm, purple eyes of yours to chip away at his frosty exterior.”
“I won’t be your snitch, Richard.”
“You’re terribly naïve about the way this world works, Rose. Besides, if you want to be an effective reporter, you have to be willing to do what it takes.”
She pursed her lips together.
“So you refuse to kiss-and-tell, eh?”
Rose exploded out of her seat. “Why do men have to be so crude?”
Richard shifted his stance. “I’m sorry. But my job is in the balance.”
“I understand that, but I wouldn’t feel right revealing information Drago doesn’t want exposed.”
He raised an eyebrow. “So you are privy to inside information.”
Why did I say that? “N . . . no,” she stammered.
A knock at the door made her jump.
“Saved by the coffee boy,” Richard said, as he allowed a runner into the office. The boy, who appeared to be no older than fourteen or fifteen, set a clattering tray on the desk. Richard slipped the runner a few coins before the lad disappeared in haste.
Rose sat and watched her boss doctor up two cups of steaming coffee with cream and sugar. Richard handed her one of the cups.
