by Marina Myles
“You have special abilities. Use them.”
She grimaced. She did possess psychic abilities, but they were minimal.
. “What about the curse of the amulet and the damnation spell Morvina cast over me?” she asked. “Either way, it seems I’m destined to die this evening.”
“Not if you yank the correct demon off the building.” He paused. “Now wait here.”
Rose wrung her hands as he left the room. If there were any damned mirrors in the house, her reflection would’ve confirmed that her face was ashen right then.
A moment later, Drago returned. In his hands, he held what looked like replicas of the amulet of Tousret and the bracelet of Amenhotep. He also held the scanty costume Rose had worn during their show at the Hippodrome.
He passed the necklace and the costume to her with a dour expression. “Wear the amulet. I had a duplicate of the Egyptian pendant made in case you no longer had it. And I’ll wear this substitute of the bracelet. People expect to see them, and they won’t know the difference.”
“And the costume?”
“You wouldn’t want a long skirt hindering your climb up the building.”
Heart hammering, Rose clasped the objects to her chest.
Drago gave her a kiss before lying down to conserve his energy. “I’ll become a demon at seven thirty this evening. It’s the exact time I accepted the lei coin years ago. But the spectacle leading up to that won’t be about me hypnotizing you—like I want the audience to think. It will be about your survival.”
CHAPTER 31
Eleven hours later, twenty thousand eager on-lookers surrounded the Woolworth Building. Spotlights crisscrossed in the black sky, vendors sold souvenirs from the street corners, and eager audience members shoved one another to find an ideal spot from which to watch the act.
All in all, the highly-publicized event was even more chaotic than Rose anticipated.
Drago grasped her hand protectively as he drove his Garford close to the building. Meanwhile, reporters clamored on the sidelines, readying their cameras and notepads.
As Drago and Rose emerged from the motorcar, they were joined by Archibald McMillan. He escorted them inside the Woolworth Building that, thankfully, had been sealed off to the public. Only Rose, Drago, McMillan, and a few police officers milled about the structure’s brightly lit lobby.
Rose clutched the long shawl that covered her costume. She’d donned ballet flats instead of the heels she usually wore onstage. Would the slippers give her enough traction to climb properly?
Her legs quaked at the thought. She was about to face her worst nightmare and it was nearly impossible for her to think straight.
What had Drago said in the car? He’d explained that there were grooves along the building’s exterior in which she could place her feet. Once she reached the base of the spire, there was a narrow, steel ladder she would climb to the very apex.
That’s where Drago would be waiting for her.
“The crowd is calling for a speech, Starkov,” McMillan said as he puffed on his cigarette.
“Speech?” Drago replied sternly.
“Yes, a speech. You’ve been in hiding. The public eats that stuff up. Now they want to hear you tell them where you’ve been.”
They also want to hear you say you’re not the murderer I accused you of being, Rose thought nervously.
“I hate reporters, but I’ll do it.” Drago drew his thick brows together. “I need to clear a few things up.”
“Great,” Archibald said as he steered Rose and Drago outside.
Camera bulbs exploded and Rose panicked. The cameras will show Drago’s lack of presence. Nearly blinded by the thought and by the camera flashes, she groped for him and lost her shawl in the process.
“I love you,” he murmured into her ear.
“I love you, too,” she mouthed as he approached a standing microphone.
The crowd went insane. If the spectators were scared of Drago turning into a homicidal monster, they didn’t show it. In fact, that’s why these people are here, Rose presumed. They’re just as curious as I used to be.
“Good evening,” he said, his Romanian accent thundering through the speakers. “Welcome to my final magic act. I promise you it will be like nothing you’ve ever seen.”
Loud applause punctuated the statement.
“I’ve been in hiding, it’s true,” Drago said. “But it doesn’t matter where. What’s important is that after tonight, I would like to retire from performing. I need time to be with my beautiful wife.”
He glanced at Rose. Her cheeks bloomed.
“However,” he took a breath, “I know that a leisurely retirement isn’t in the cards. There have been erroneous rumors floating around about me—even newspaper articles claiming that I’m the creature who killed the girl at Coney Island. My wife asserted as much. But she has since learned that I am not guilty. Unfortunately, the police aren’t convinced of the same thing. Ladies and gentleman, you’ll see that the authorities are controlling this spectacle. After I’m finished, they intend to take me into custody.”
Rose heard someone shout, “Come on, Starkov. Admit that you’re the Coney Island Killer!”
Drago didn’t reply.
Rose thought desperately, How can he persuade them he’s telling the truth?
She flinched as another voice rose above the crowd. “Your wife was the one who blew the whistle on you, Starkov. You must be furious and she must be frightened of you. Did you coerce her into participating tonight?”
Drago fired the man a dark look. “Coerce is hardly the word. She’s hypnotized by the enchanted amulet she’s wearing.”
All eyes zeroed in on Rose’s neck. She wanted to run back to the car. It took every iota of strength she possessed to stand her ground.
“My wife has debilitating vertigo,” Drago continued. “So her climb tonight will prove dangerous in and of itself. That’s the reason I used the amulet to hypnotize her. She would never dare climb this building without it.”
Rose wanted to cry out, “The amulet is a fake!”
“You’re a monster—putting your wife through such torture!” A stout woman hissed.
“I’m wearing the bracelet of Amenhotep,” Drago retorted, “so no harm will come to her.” He pulled up the sleeve of his jacket and revealed the ornate band.
Murmurs spread through the crowd.
“Since my wife is already hypnotized, I intend to impress the public with another sort of trick,” Drago went on. “I’m going to make her disappear.”
Rose stumbled back. Luckily, McMillan caught her. Disappear?
That can’t be Drago’s plan, she thought. He told her she would need to pull the correct demon off the building.
What does he have up his sleeve?
Confused, she swayed on her feet. Once she gathered her wits, she tugged on Drago’s arm.
Drago covered the microphone with his hand. “What are you doing?” he asked gently.
“I need to tell everyone the truth.”
“The truth?”
“That what I saw in the coin wasn’t you killing that girl,” she whispered to him. “It was Morvina.”
He gave her a rueful smile. “These people won’t believe you.”
“Let me try,” she pleaded. “I don’t want you to get arrested after this spectacle.”
“You don’t understand, Rose. Nothing will matter once we complete the magic act.”
He’s being so damned secretive. He didn’t want to scare her by telling her what to expect—but the reality was, not knowing was scaring her more.
Drago would die if his head was severed. What if I’m responsible for that? Will I pull him off the building instead of Morvina? Will I kill myself afterward?
Knowing that her husband wasn’t going to answer her questions in front of this massive crowd, Rose released Drago’s arm and let him finish his address. While he explained that he’d scale the highest quarter of the building and then wait for Rose t
o climb to him at its apex, she searched the skies for Morvina.
Would she swoop down and attack at any moment?
After Drago thanked the crowd and stepped away from the microphone, a tense silence ensued. He removed his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. Then he turned to Rose as the crowd fell into a profound hush.
“It’s time,” he said.
Her nerves vibrated to a new high.
“I’ll see you at the top.” He planted a gentle kiss on her cheek.
Rose wanted to scream and protest like a three-year-old. Instead, she fought for composure—and blew Drago a final kiss as he disappeared into the Woolworth Building.
Suddenly, a hand grasped her arm. Assuming it was McMillan, she let the gentleman lead her inside behind Drago. But when she turned to look at her escort, she realized it wasn’t Archibald. It was Patrick.
“What are you doing here?” she asked breathlessly.
“I’m running this circus, but more importantly, Olivia came to me in a hysterical state. She’s beside herself because you’ve reunited with Drago.”
Olivia had witnessed the spirit writing session. She knew Drago wasn’t a murderer. “That doesn’t make sense,” she said.
“I’m worried about you, too.”
Rose scowled. “Please let go of my arm. You’re hurting me.” “You need to come with me.”
“Where?” she asked in a panic.
“I’m authorized to take you up to the level below the roof—the level from which you’ll start climbing.”
She struggled to free herself of his grasp. “I want someone else to take me.”
“Rose—” irritation shadowed Patrick’s face—“you raced back into my arms when you returned from Europe. Now you’ve reconciled with Drago. A monster. Do you think that was a smart move?”
“Drago is not a monster,” she protested as he pushed her inside the elevator. “I was wrong about him and Olivia knows it. I think you’re lying.”
“Think what you want.”
“Give me a chance to explain,” she said quickly. “Morvina is the one who killed the girl in Coney Island. She has the power to transform herself into a demon. You need to be looking out for her in a disguised form so you can arrest her.”
There was nowhere for Rose to run inside the elevator so Patrick released her arm. She was about to tell him who to search for when he said, “I know Morvina is coming.”
“What did you say?”
“Morvina sought me out and I agreed to help her,” Patrick said. “As a result, she promised to do away with Drago—so that you and I can be together.”
Terror pulsed through Rose’s veins. She backed into the corner. “You helped her? You stole the lei coin from me?”
“Exactly.” Patrick placed his hands on the walls and leaned over her. “Thanks for showing me you had it.”
Rose realized she’d made a lot of mistakes, but confiding in Patrick was probably the worst one. “This isn’t happening!”
Patrick tried to kiss her but she shoved him away. “I married Drago,” she said breathlessly. “I love him, not you.”
“Soon, there’ll be no Dragomir Starkov. Morvina promised me that.”
“I still won’t be with you!” she shouted.
He started to grope her. Then he yanked her face in his direction and kissed her hotly. To defend herself, she slashed her fingernails across his face.
Patrick cried out. He touched his face, then studied the blood. The sight flamed his cheeks. “First Starkov broke my jaw, now you’ve probably scarred my face!”
“I’m sorry, Patrick.” She wasn’t really, but she was extremely frightened.
“If you won’t be with me, Rose, I’ll let Morvina kill your savage husband and you!” The elevator door opened and he dragged her out. “Now get up on the ledge and climb! Oh, and try not to think about Morvina squeezing you to death before you reach Drago.”
“I hate you!” Tears stung Rose’s eyes. How did I miss how evil he is?
Blinded by her tears, she turned toward the ledge. The hot summer wind whipped her hair about—and her knees wobbled.
When she looked all the way up, she could see nothing but the side of the building angling up and away from her.
Is Drago in place at the spire’s topmost point, waiting for me?
The way the ornate stones were stacked provided Rose with spaces to place her feet—just as Drago promised. Still, she doubted she could scale them.
“For Christ’s sake!” Patrick screeched. “Get up on the ledge. Morvina doesn’t have all night.”
Mouth parched, she shook her head.
Seething, Patrick lifted her onto the ledge by her waist. She gave a teeter and tried to balance herself. Patrick laughed as he stepped back inside the elevator.
“Don’t bother calling for the elevator again,” he said. “I’m going to disable it once I reach the lobby.”
Rose’s heart sank. She told herself not to look down, but she couldn’t help it. The street was more than seven hundred feet below her—and the commotion lining it waved in and out of focus. She came close to inching across the ledge. Then a debilitating fear gripped her. Vertigo was precisely that. A paralyzing phobia of heights that made a person’s limbs freeze and their pulse stutter wildly.
She was about to give up and slide down when she heard Drago’s voice. “Come and get me, Morvina!” he boomed.
Rose licked her dry lips. Hands shaking, she tilted the small clock-pin fastened to her costume and stared at the time. Seventy thirty on the dot.
Drago had turned into a demon.
CHAPTER 32
Stretching her arms out in order to balance herself on the ledge, Rose summoned all of her courage. Once she reached the point where she could start climbing, she placed her foot on the closest stone and stepped up.
“Morvina!” Drago’s voice was octaves lower than normal and coated with a preternatural rasp. It was barely recognizable to Rose, but still, it brought her back to what he’d said at his East Hampton house. “Tonight both of us will face what we fear most. And for everything to work out, you’re going to have to trust me.”
Stifling the fright that swept through her—at least for a moment—Rose picked up her pace. With every centimeter she conquered, she tried to brace herself for seeing Drago in his grotesque form.
He’s still my husband, she reminded herself. And if I don’t look down, I might overcome my vertigo.
“Is Rose alive?” She heard Drago boom to Morvina.
“She’s on her way up,” came the voice of evil. “I want her to suffer before I put her out of her misery. Her vertigo is seeing to that. That’s why I’m going to kill you first, Drago.”
Heart racing, Rose continued to scale the incline. Each inch was painful, excruciating, terrifying. Thus, she wasn’t moving nearly as fast as she wanted to.
How can mountain climbers do this for a hobby?
“I have the lei coin,” Morvina crowed, “so don’t deny it. You know that I was Richard Bellum.”
“Yes. That’s what makes me want to kill you even more,” Drago growled.
“You don’t stand a chance.”
“I’m stronger than any person you could possess,” he challenged.
“I wouldn’t be too confident, Drago,” Morvina fumed. “You don’t have the lei coin. I do. Plus, I have another secret.”
“What secret?” Drago scoffed.
“When I was a child, I was disfigured by arthritis. My mother was a beautiful fortuneteller who dabbled in the occult. In a horrible accident, I fell off a horse and lay dying. My mother gave me an enchanted coin to save me.” She paused. “Not only did it save me, it gave me the ability to live forever.”
“My God!” Drago bellowed. “You’re the fortuneteller who doomed me!”
Rose sucked in a sharp breath.
“Yes!” Morvina hissed. “When you came to me, I looked into my crystal ball and learned you’d be my opponent in the Victory. All I had to do
was get you to accept the coin. And you did.”
“You bitch!”
Morvina tsked mockingly. “It was your choice to become immortal.”
Horrified but unseen, Rose clung to the side of the building. Keep talking, Morvina. It’ll give me time to reach you.
“Forget me, Morvina,” Drago said. “Why did you curse Rose?”
“Long ago, I asked my crystal ball to show me the most beautiful woman in the world. The ball wouldn’t tell me. I asked the cards. They wouldn’t tell me. Then I knew. The woman hadn’t been born yet. I decided to draw on my mother’s spirit. During a spirit writing session, I penned the name ‘Rose Hayes’.”
Bile edged up Rose’s throat. Her foot missed a groove and she floundered to maintain her hand grip.
“So I settled into the body of Rose’s aunt—before I became Richard Bellum. When I was Morvina, I cursed Rose to die on her twenty-first birthday—which happens to be the anniversary of your turning, Drago. I figured Rose’s beauty would peak in her twenty-first year. Now I can kill both of you on the same night. How deliciously convenient!”
“Rose has hardly begun to live,” Drago said. “You’re a she-devil!”
“No one deserves to be that beautiful—especially when there are hideous children in the world.” Morvina paused. “Everyone thought my cursing Rose had to do with an argument I had with her mother. But that was all nonsense and drivel. I just want her youth and beauty.”
Hearing Morvina’s admission nearly knocked Rose free of the tight contact she had with the building. Hanging on for dear life, she remained frozen for a moment. Then she lifted her shaking hand to the next brick. She commanded her feet to follow the action of her hands—although the ballet slippers she was wearing were just that. Slippery.
Reaching down, she yanked the heel of one of her shoes off her foot. In doing so, she caught a glimpse of the spectators’ blurred faces. It made her vision disjointed and she nearly whirled off the building.
Closing her eyes to the dizzying sensation, she peeled off the rest of her slipper by feel and let it fall. Transferring her grip to her alternate hand, she managed to remove the other shoe.
