by Marina Myles
Now that the objects were hidden safely inside the painting, she returned the sword to the suit of armor. Feeling free, Rose picked up her satchel, but before she stole outside she felt a presence behind her—a presence real enough to raise the hair on her arms.
Wheeling around, she caught a glimpse of a white apparition.
The ghost of Jean-Daniel Girard.
Before it vanished, Rose could have sworn it murmured, “Don’t be fooled . . .”
Lungs stinging, Drago finally reached the château. As he entered the house, he was greeted by an eerie silence. Rose is gone. He sensed it. He also sensed that she’d taken off the amulet of Tousret.
“Rose?” he called out desperately.
There was no answer. He searched the drawing room and the library.
Madame P. hurried out of the kitchen, smoothing her dress. “Monsieur Starkov?”
“I’m looking for my wife. Have you seen her?”
“No.” Concern shadowed her face. “Maybe she’s lying down . . .”
Drago bounded up the stairs two at a time and hurried into the suite. There was no sign of Rose. Nor was there any sign of the lei coin or of the bracelet of Amenhotep.
He yanked open the desk drawer and saw that the money was gone. His heart sank and he tried unsuccessfully to fight back his emotions.
Rose is headed back to New York City. He knew her plans as clearly as he knew their marriage was in dire straits.
Will Drago come after me? Rose stared out at the ocean waves as the steamer she’d booked passage on plowed toward New York.
He’s smart. Smart enough to figure out where I’ve gone.
Pulling the lei coin from her jacket pocket, she moved to a private area on the ship’s deck. In a low whisper she spoke to it again. “Show me Drago—when he returned from the town of Maincy.”
The coin burst forth an image of him searching for her in their suite at the château. Then it showed him pitching to his knees in frustration. Before it went dark, the coin projected a scene of Drago booking passage back to America.
I was right. He’s coming for me.
Rose couldn’t be sure if the hypnotic spell cast over her might remain despite the fact that she’d taken the amulet off, but she had refused to wear the necklace another minute. Learning the truth about Drago had turned her world upside down. He’d made a deal with the devil. In return, neither of them would ever be the same.
Weeks later, Rose heaved a sigh of relief as the steamer neared the Port of New York and let out a deep bellow. In the distance loomed the Statue of Liberty—and the sight comforted her. It was good to be home, yet she didn’t feel like rejoicing.
Olivia, the Marconis, Anthony, Richard, and Patrick had all been right in distrusting Drago. Obviously, they’d read him much better than Rose had—and she owed them an apology. Should she tell them that Drago was the demon who’d terrorized Coney Island? How could she not? She’d never forgive herself if her husband killed someone else.
Rose’s hands shook as she glanced down at her simple wedding band. When Drago’s show at the Hippodrome began to pack audiences in, he had taken her to several high-end jewelry stores to look at diamond rings. The stunning jewels had certainly impressed Rose, but she’d refused the let Drago buy one. She wanted to keep the simple band he bought her in the village of East Hampton. It would always remind her that their relationship was built on the simplest, purest form of love. Love at first sight.
How the tables had turned. Now Rose was trying to get far away from him—to return to the only place that was familiar.
The ship docked and Rose’s spine tingled. She looked wildly about. Only she knew what Drago was capable of—and she wouldn’t put it past him to appear out of thin air. That’s why she’d taken the coin.
When she stepped off the ship, she stuffed the coin in her pocket. Before she’d left France, she telegraphed Patrick in a panic about her return to New York. She told him that she was about to face her wicked aunt. Worse yet, she was running away from Drago, who was a more fearsome monster than Morvina.
Once she spotted Patrick on the dock, her fear sent her racing into his safe embrace.
Drago sensed that Rose was enfolded in Patrick’s arms. Rage flushed through his veins with the fury of a hurricane. Damn it! Things were playing out as they had in his original vision, yet he had every right to be infuriated by it. He hadn’t merely seen the other remaining demon coming to America and Rose’s subsequent fear of the witch’s curse, he’d witnessed what happened at the end—when all the players came together in a result that was beyond dramatic.
He thought taking Rose to France would have been an effective way of avoiding Morvina and the final scene of his vision, but he was beginning to doubt that these things could be eluded. Besides, Rose had been so miserable there.
Christ! He gripped the railing of the large steamer he’d booked passage on.
Years ago, the fortuneteller Drago had visited claimed that he’d have no chance to reverse a predestined chain of events. But he sure as hell wanted to try. Although a vision was a prediction of what was about to take place, was he a lord of black magic or not?
He’d gotten the sense earlier that Rose had taken off the amulet. Did she still have it in her possession? In addition, the bracelet of Amenhotep was nowhere to be found. What had Rose done with it? Without both objects, his power to save her had lessened. Doubt that he could manipulate what happened beyond the vision hovered over him like a storm cloud. He didn’t even have the lei coin.
Worse still, Rose leaving him had knocked him to his knees. In her absence, he felt as if his lungs had collapsed and his heart had broken in half. She was his entire world and he couldn’t tolerate being without her. Although he longed to draw her close and feather his hands along her soft skin, Patrick might be doing those things instead.
As the steamer plowed through the ocean waters at full speed, he marched under the deck’s overhang. He preferred to conserve his energy from the sunlight so that he could plan his reunion with Rose.
Why had she sought solace in O’Leary’s arms? She knew her former suitor was in cahoots with Richard Bellum. Worse yet, the arrogant cop seemed bent on stealing her back.
How can I not hate him?
Drago suspected that Patrick only saw Rose as a challenge. Once he conquered that challenge, he’d throw her away when his interest waned. And Rose was especially vulnerable right now. No doubt she’d seen Drago in his demonic state—naturally, she’d be terrified out of her mind.
Drago grimaced. That was probably the reason she was seeking solace with Patrick.
He folded the collar of his jacket up against the strong Atlantic wind. It was a twenty day voyage back to New York. Rose had departed on the ship prior to his—which meant she’d have almost two days alone with O’Leary. While Drago’s powers extended to transporting objects through time and space, he could only transport himself in his demonic state. It was too bad, because if Rose shared what she saw in the coin with anyone, Drago would be a sitting duck for the police in New York. Anthony Marconi and Patrick O’Leary would arrest him.
Feeling his energy drain completely, he pulled the brim of his hat lower and closed his eyes. He must come up with a plan of escape. After all, he wasn’t going to be clueless enough to step off the ship at Ellis Island straight into O’Leary and Marconi’s hands.
CHAPTER 25
Patrick’s arms felt strong and sturdy around Rose—and it was just what she needed in the moment. He said nothing, but held her for a long time at the edge of the dock. She leaned against him. She needed him to be her rock in the terrifying days to come. And there was so much she wanted to tell him.
“Are you all right, Rose?” he asked as he gently smoothed her hair.
“No,” she replied honestly.
She drew away and looked at him. He’d changed. His frame had grown more muscular and his boyish face had matured. And against the colorful background of the city, his green eyes appeare
d especially vibrant.
Because he looked incredibly handsome, Rose wondered why she’d never allowed him to court her.
Adjusting his boater hat, Patrick wrapped his arm around her shoulder and steered her toward the luggage desk.
“I don’t have much baggage,” she said. “I only purchased a few clothes and a small suitcase on board.”
“You did leave in a hurry!” Patrick took a step back. “Be honest. Did that bastard Starkov hurt you and then drive you away?”
“No. It’s not that . . .” her voice trailed off.
Patrick frowned. “Don’t worry. We have all afternoon to catch up. I took the day off.”
“Thank you, Patrick.”
She tucked her hand through his bent elbow. Without heavy luggage weighing them down, they decided to walk. They meandered through Battery Park and strolled all the way to Chelsea Pier. Patrick asked her if she was hungry, but she shook her head.
“I think I need a drink.”
Patrick gave her a look as if to say, “You’ve grown up”.
He led her into a pub. Once they settled at a table, they ordered two lager beers. Rose took a long swig of hers, but she squished up her face in disgust and set the glass down. Patrick offered to finish it for her.
Trembling, Rose shook her head and sat back in her chair. “I need something to steady my nerves, but that tastes terrible.”
“I’ll order you a glass of wine instead.” He smiled. After it arrived, he surveyed her nervous state. “I want to know everything that happened to you while you were away. When I saw you at the Hippodrome, I got the feeling you were miserable. That you were giving up a hell of a lot for that shady magician.”
“I did,” she replied penitently.
He took in a breath. “One of my fellow officer’s discovered Drago has a police record. He was arrested under a different name for theft.”
“Theft? When was this?”
“Years ago.” He paused. “A man claimed he stole money from him.”
“Maybe one his magic acts was misconstrued.” There I go defending him.
Patrick looked nonplussed. “I still think he’s shady. A fraud.”
“You don’t understand, Patrick. I didn’t come back to New York because Drago is a fraud. I came back because he really can perform magic.”
He raised an eyebrow. “What?”
The wine came. She drank a good deal of it, which made her tongue looser. “Richard Bellum’s newspaper exposé was all wrong.”
“The exposé that ruined your husband’s career?” he asked with a glimmer of pleasure in his eye.
“Yes—and don’t look so smug about it.” She went on. “What Bellum didn’t include in the story was the secret of Drago’s Romanian coin.”
“His what?”
Rose nodded. “Drago possesses a silver coin that gives him black magic powers. It also allows him to see the past and the present.”
“You’ve lost me, Rose. You know I don’t believe in hocus-pocus.”
“That’s a naïve mindset, Patrick.” Her tone was firm.
He downed his beer. As he unbuttoned his jacket and stuffed a hand in his trouser pocket, his eyes narrowed. “Are you telling me that all the illusions Dragomir Starkov performed have been real?”
“Yes.”
“That cad can actually make a woman float in space and bring a dead kitten back to life?”
She pursed her lips together.
“Holy hell, Rose! That’s impossible!”
“I’ll show you proof in a minute, but we need to go somewhere private.”
Patrick threw some money on the table, then escorted Rose outside. “I’ll take you to a place the police use for stake-outs. It isn’t far.”
They made their way to an abandoned building. After Patrick drew the curtains, he leaned against a wall. “Show me your proof.”
At first, she hesitated. Here she was, back in New York one hour and she was spilling Drago’s secrets. But she didn’t have a choice. If Drago was capable of killing someone once, he’d surely do it again, and the police needed to know.
Sucking in a breath, she extracted the coin from her pocket and presented it to Patrick.
“It doesn’t look magical,” he remarked.
“It is,” she said softly.
Commanding the coin to show her Drago at Coney Island, the object projected the tell-all vision of him transforming into a demon and compressing one of the Coney Island victims into a crumpled heap.
“Christ!” Patrick cried. “Starkov is the monster that attacked those women!”
“I had to tell you.” Remorse stabbed at Rose.
Pushing himself off the wall, he began to pace in circles. “I . . . I don’t know what to say. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“A long time ago, Drago made a deal with an old fortuneteller. It turned out to be more like a deal with the devil,” she explained. “In exchange for his magical powers, Drago needs to suck the life out of someone on the same day every year.”
From the look on his face, she knew what Patrick was thinking. This can’t be.
After swallowing a dry lump she said, “That day happens to be my birthday.”
Patrick stopped pacing and grasped her shoulders. “My God, Rose. Do you think Drago has been saving you for his ultimate victim?”
“I don’t know.”
“If killing you is what this fiend has in mind, we have to protect you from him!”
Her hands trembled as she scrubbed them over her face. “Now he’s as terrifying to me as my Aunt Morvina.”
“I hated Dragomir Starkov from the minute I laid eyes on him. Your aunt—who may be dead for all we know—seems pathetic compared to your husband, at least when he turns into a demon.” Patrick blew out a breath. “But I still don’t understand. Why does Starkov have to suck out someone’s soul once a year?”
Rose looked him straight in the eye. “It makes him immortal.”
Apparently, that’s all Patrick needed to hear. Over the next twenty-four hours, he used his new status of detective to scramble his sources together. The police discovered that Drago would be arriving behind Rose on another steamer. That prompted them to immediately raid Drago’s Tenth Avenue apartment, looking for additional proof that he was a demonic sorcerer.
Rose insisted on accompanying Patrick and the police force he’d assembled to meet the Astoncia when it arrived the following day. The ship docked but Drago didn’t disembark.
“Where the hell is he?” Patrick scowled.
“Maybe he turned himself into a seagull and flew ashore,” one of the officers said snidely.
“You just bought yourself surveillance duty, McCracken,” Patrick replied harshly. “You and Greboski stay here and notify me if you see any sign of Starkov.” He thrust an artist’s rendering toward the wisecracking cop.
“And you, O’Leary, you need to get on that ship and search for Starkov,” Patrick’s boss, a ruddy-faced police captain, barked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Where do you think he is?” Rose asked Patrick as she hurried by his side.
“First of all, you’re a lady and you need to stay here,” Patrick said. “Secondly, I have no idea where Drago is, but I intend to find out.”
“How?” She frowned.
“Rose. One lone magician can’t outsmart the entire New York City Police Department.”
Her stomach clenched violently. “You don’t know Drago.”
CHAPTER 26
Rose had stayed the past few nights in a hotel. Finally, Patrick convinced her to go home. When she arrived at the Marconis’ brownstone, she fell into Elena’s arms.
“It’s all right, cara,” Elena murmured through tears. “You’re home now.”
Lorenzo Marconi stood behind Rose and gently stroked her hair as she sobbed. “No worries, my dear. You’ll never hear us say, ‘We told you so.’”
“Lorenzo!” Elena said sharply.
Rose found extreme comfort i
n Elena’s embrace. She didn’t want to pull away, but she made herself step back eventually. “Is Olivia home?”
Elena nodded.
Just then, Olivia came rushing down the stairs. “Rose! I’ve missed you so much!”
They hugged one another and Rose could feel her adoptive sister’s heart beating wildly. Anthony appeared and gave her arm a hardy squeeze. “Glad you’re back, sis.”
She smiled. He’d never called her that before.
Exhausted, she let Elena tug her into the parlor. Nothing had changed. It still smelled of lilacs, Elena’s favorite flower. Rose sat on the sofa and eyed a small bouquet of the blooms on a sideboard in the corner.
“Where’s Patrick?” Anthony asked.
“He dropped me off here, then went to set up a barricade around the harbor.”
“Barricade?” Lorenzo asked.
At the family’s prodding, Rose relayed everything. Drago’s alliance with the fortuneteller. The coin the old woman gave him. And his demonic immortality.
Everyone in the room met her story with gaping mouths.
“He doesn’t deserve to be roaming the streets after what he did to those women,” Elena said with alarm.
Rose took in a breath. “He only killed one woman. The others were left alive.” She realized how foolish her words sounded as soon as they escaped her mouth.
“Just killed one woman!” Elena cried. “Drago took someone’s daughter away from them, forever.” She made the sign of the cross.
Rose shook her head. “I wish I’d seen him for what he is.”
“How could you have?” Olivia asked gently. “He hypnotized you. He’s an expert at that.”
Instinctively, Rose reached for the amulet—only to remember that it was back in France.
Am I still under his spell? After all, the legend of the amulet claimed that its wearer needed to don it only once . . .
Anthony paced the room. “The police will get Starkov,” he said. “Have no doubt about that.”
