Superstition

by Veronica Blake

  Lastly, they would perform the curing ceremony to hopefully rid the Clan of whatever curse had been put on them to bring this tragedy upon their village. Always before, dhampyre children were born strong and healthy; their fragile human genes were infused with the nearly indestructible genes of the century old vampires who sired them.

  The previous night, however, after an especially long and grueling labor, Lydia had given birth to a boy who was beautiful and flawless in appearance. But he never took a breath regardless how hard the women attending the birth tried to revive him. The remains of the tiny infant were now wrapped in a blue and tan woven blanket and laying on a rock altar built beside the fire pit.

  Mateo stared at the tiny lifeless bundle through the flickering flames of the fires. The death of this dhampyre was the most tragic thing to ever happen in their village, and it left the entire clan in a state of disbelief and shock. His grandfather instructed members of the Clan Society on the Apache Reservation to get in touch with other society members from Blood Clans in different parts of the world to see if any of them experienced such an unexpected tragedy, or if any of them had heard of a stillborn birth in all of the Blood Clan’s history.

  Late last night, Drago called a meeting of his entire clan so they could discuss different theories as to why this misfortune might have occurred. They wondered if a new and unheard of virus could be affecting the Clan, either from the blood supplies they drank from or the tainted environment itself.

  In the three centuries he lived, the senior vampire had seen so many changes already. He talked about the human blood sources they needed for survival and how he was concerned they were now contaminated with synthetic food supplies and numerous diseases. He worried the air they breathed was filled with putrid fumes and toxic wastes that drifted up from the world of the real ones. Nothing was pure in this world anymore, he warned.

  Drago even suggested perhaps some of the venomous infections of the real ones, like cancer, were somehow infiltrating the strong immune systems of the Blood Clan. If this was true, their entire existence could be threatened. Once again, he contemplated if the time had come to cut all ties with the modern world and live in total seclusion as the clans in olden times had done.

  As Mateo had listened to his grandfather speak the previous evening, he realized the changes he felt were imminent for his clan could be the exact opposite of what he was hoping for. He envisioned they would soon find ways to live among the world of the real ones without living in dread of extinction.

  But his grandfather was constantly suggesting they become even more reclusive than they were now. In spite of how much Mateo loved and respected his wise grandfather, he knew if Drago ordered them to stay on the mountain and never go down to the world of the real ones again, he would have a difficult decision to make.

  His heart ached now as he watched Rafael approaching the fire pit, holding his sobbing wife against his side. Lydia’s face was pressed into her mate’s chest and her body shook with inconsolable sorrow. She wore a white shawl over her black hair and a loose-fitting buckskin dress. Rafael was decked out in his ceremonial suit like the rest of the clan. They stopped next to the alter that held the lifeless body of their newborn son.

  Anton and Nita appeared next, leading all the dhampyre children of the clan. Their six children walked beside Anton. The oldest, one of three sons, Chaz, was fourteen years old and Mateo was surprised to see the boy recently cut his long dark hair short in a choppy style like many of the real ones in his age group. Mateo could not remember any of the males in their clan ever cutting their hair.

  A faint smile curved Mateo’s mouth as Chaz walked past him. He was a tall handsome boy and carried himself in a dignified way that suggested he was older than he really was. In Blood Clan years, fourteen was still considered barely more than an infant for a male since Chaz would not become a fully mature vampire for another eighty-six years.

  Chaz’s mother, Nita, carried Lydia and Rafael’s three-year-old son on her hip, and their ten-year-old twin daughters walked beside her. All three children resembled their Canadian-born mother more than they did their vampire father. Right now, they all focused their full attention on the rock altar where their baby brother lay silent and cold.

  With the entire clan gathered around the fire pit, Drago began the ceremonies with ancient Apache and Spanish prayers, a combination of his original Mexican Blood Clan and those of his Apache mate, Raven. They danced one of the Apache dances of her ancestors, and when the praying and dancing were done, they consumed blood drawn from the human sources held in the caves.

  There were three real ones in the cave at this time. Typically, there was only one blood source kept in the cave at a time since the full grown male vampires needed only a small amount from a real one every few days to suppress their thirst for blood. Raven and Rosa, who were also immortals now, drank a minimal amount of blood and usually not as much their male mates. But when a dhampyre child was about to be born, Drago would request the Clan Society to bring an extra real one to the mountaintop. Blood from the additional human would be used for the special ceremonies they conducted in the few days preceding the impending birth.

  In spite of the fact the Clan was educated from the books and teachings of the world of real ones, Drago and Raven still adhered to the outdated beliefs that preparing special potions from blood to be drunk by everyone in the clan, even the children, would help ensure the birth of a male child. Human blood would also be massaged into skin on the belly of the mother once she went into labor.

  Regardless of Mateo’s past attempts to talk to his grandfather about the complete contradiction to scientific fact that a female or male child was determined from the genes of the father’s sperm at conception, Drago still believed the sex of a dhampyre child was not established until the final moments before they entered the world, and the outcome was greatly influenced by the special ceremonies conducted and blood potions consumed by the clan in the days preceding the birth. The elder vampire could be open-minded about many things involving the world of the real ones, but he refused to consider any other possibilities when it came to the birth of the dhampyre children.

  Mateo shifted his weight from one foot to the other in a nervous motion as the gourd of blood began to circulate among the clan. Chloe Webster’s blood was not needed for the birthing ceremonies. But her relentless curiosity and determination to find the Lost Dutchman’s Gold Mine led her to the location of the village hidden at the entrance to the legendary gold mine. As with all the others in the past who wandered too close, she could not be allowed to discover the secrets of the gold mine without paying the ultimate price.

  Even the crazy old miner, Jacob Waltz, had not climbed high enough to follow his own clues. The smaller vein of gold he discovered was in caves lower down the mountain. He mined out that limited source long before his death in 1891.

  The Blood Clan left him alone for two reasons, the main one was because most of the people he told about his gold mine thought he was crazy; and also, because the zealous gold seekers who did believe his wild tales of endless veins of gold sometimes got a little too close to the secluded caves, which provided an extra bonus of human blood to the clan.

  “Drink, my son.”

  Mateo snapped out of his deep concentration about the past and the present, and how it would affect the future of the clan. He reached out and took the antiquated gourd flask from his mother and tipped it to his mouth. The blood was lukewarm and thick going down his throat. It satisfied his primal need, but since tasting the indescribably sweet blood of his eternal mate, the life source of any other human was not so tempting right now.

  Udaya. His Dawn. Her name and her beautiful image floated through his mind. He couldn’t wait to be with her.

  Mateo’s hands shook slightly as he handed the blood-filled gourd to Anton. He did not know which of the human blood sources provided this drink for the ceremony, but the thought it could belong to Chloe Webster made it a bitter taste t
o swallow. He wondered if Chloe would still be alive when he finally brought Dawn up here to the village.

  The homeless alcoholics who usually provided them with blood did not last more than a couple weeks before their emancipated diseased bodies gave out from lack of blood. But a young healthy source like Chloe could last several weeks or longer, and as much as he hated to acknowledge it he knew the time was drawing near when he would be forced to bring Dawn here.

  He glanced around at his solemn family. They all looked like they belonged in a different century. Tonight, even the youngest children wore the ceremonial outfits crafted hundreds of years ago, most likely by his grandmother’s family when Drago had first come here to claim Raven as his mate.

  Right now, Mateo also looked entirely different than when he left the mountain to visit the world below. In addition to his centuries old tanned buckskin outfit and knee high moccasins, his hair was hanging in two long braids over each of his shoulders. There were red streaks of human blood drawn across the sides of his face. He was the epitome of a savage vampire in every way.

  Tomorrow night he would dress in his trendy clothes and drive his shiny new truck to town, where he would pretend to be just a regular man, a real one, for the short time he would spend with Dawn.

  As he stared into the fire pit where the fiery fingers of the crackling orange flames were reaching toward the ebony sky overhead, he felt a sinister omen lurking in the shadows. At this moment, he realized just how drastically different his vampire world was from the world below the Superstitions. Was there really any way to combine the mysteries of his vampire clan and Dawn’s human world without incurring tragic consequences?

  The ceremony finished with the heartbreaking burning of the tiny body in the roaring fire pit. Lydia’s tormented wailing drowned out all other sounds. Mateo looked up at the unusually cloudy sky. The barely more than a fingernail moon peeking from the shadows of the clouds curved in a menacing and unnatural looking shape. He lowered his gaze just as Rafael and Lydia were walking past him.

  His brother leaned toward him and hissed through gritted teeth, “This is your fault. Because of you wanting to change the way we have done things since the beginning of time, our Clan is now cursed.”

  He stared at Rafael in stunned silence, before he reached out and touched his brother’s arm. “I’m sorry, my brother. I don’t understand why you would think I caused this?” Rafael pulled his arm away without answering. His cold unyielding expression bespoke his innermost feelings.

  A current of icy wind whipped through Mateo as he watched the remainder of his family began to move away from the fire and the last remains of the burning child. He glanced around to see if anyone heard his brother’s harsh words, but it appeared no one else was aware of the accusation Rafael hurled at him.

  There was no basis for his brother’s allegation. But he had to find a way to prove it wasn’t true—to his brother and to himself, because if he was the reason this tiny dhampyre male was now no more than a pile of smoking ash, he would never forgive himself.

  Chapter Twenty

  Dawn had wanted to wear this dress for ages and it just never seemed appropriate for even the dressiest of after-school functions or any of her previous dates. Her sister-in-law, Teresa, Jeremy’s new wife, had given this unique dress to her because it was too tight on her figure, which was slightly fuller than Dawn’s slender body. The dress was an exquisite vintage mini from the sixties; a sleeveless black silk sheath with an intricate black lace overlay covering the entire—skimpy—length. But from where the length ended at upper mid-thigh, delicate threads of fringe fell from the hemline of the dress and swirled in a teasing motion around her lower thighs whenever she moved.

  She even had the perfect CFM’s—come-fuck-me shoes—to wear with this sexy dress. Four-inch stiletto sandals with the thinnest of straps traipsed over the tops of her feet, and delicate t-straps wrapped around her ankles, all in tiny shimmering rhinestones. She had bought them to wear with this dress, so this was the first time she was getting to wear them, as well.

  Leaning toward the mirror, Dawn slipped the wires of her long dangling rhinestone earrings into her ear piercings and stood back to survey the day long effort of looking as beautiful as possible for Mateo Two Moons. Her glossy red lips parted with a satisfied smile. It was worth splurging today at the beauty shop.

  Her updo was messy perfection with long tendrils of blonde hair tumbling down her back, and framing her face. Tiny rhinestones were sprinkled among the swirls of hair and sparkled when she moved her head in the slightest bit. Afterward, she asked for the works, and had a manicure and pedicure. Now, her toenails and fingernails were a shiny red that matched her lips.

  She was ready to go way too early. As she glanced at the clock on her nightstand, the extra pregnancy test she hadn’t taken yet caught her eye. Maybe tomorrow she would make time for the second, and totally unnecessary, test. Oh, and she would remind Mateo they needed to use protection tonight. Her knees grew weak as everything between her legs began to tighten with the thought of what they would undoubtedly be doing before this night was over. Everything except the biting thing, she hoped.

  She needed a drink.

  A glass of red wine didn’t do much to calm her nerves, but it did help pass the time. It seemed impossible that only a week had passed since her first date with Mateo. Tomorrow would mark a week since Chloe disappeared, too. Dawn took another huge swig of wine. How could she even think about going out and enjoying herself when Chloe was...what?

  The local newspaper today said search parties were still looking. She thought about the disturbing words Mateo said when she pushed him for an answer. Alive, but not safe. A sharp shudder raced down her spine. Alive—that was all that mattered.

  She heard the roar of his big truck pulling up outside as she drained the last drop of wine from the glass. The sun had been down for only a short time. He must have driven like a maniac to get here. She grabbed her small black beaded evening bag and headed to the door the instant she heard the light knock. When she pulled the door open, she was fairly certain she experienced that swooning thing again.

  Damn. Wasn’t there a law against a man looking this gorgeous?

  Mateo’s mouth curved in a half smirk, half sex smile that made one side of his full lips turn up just slightly more than the other as his hungry gaze raked up and down her body with brazen and obvious lust. “Udaya, you are so beautiful,” he said in a husky voice. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  “So are you, and so have I,” she murmured in a desperate-sounding voice that once again sounded alien to her ears. It had only been two days since she’d seen him, but it felt like two years. She let her own gaze admire the magnificent man who stood in her doorway.

  His long luxurious hair was loose tonight; the shiny raven locks were tucked behind his ears. Her fingers curled into tight fists at the sides of her body in an effort to resist the urge to reach up and immerse them in those beautiful thick strands.

  He was wearing a sharply tailored black suit jacket over a black dress shirt with the top couple buttons undone. A narrow white, gray and black diagonally striped tie was loosely knotted below the open collar of his shirt in a manner suggesting it was ready to be pulled from around his neck at any moment.

  Her fingers uncurled for an instant, yearning to loosen that teasing tie the rest of the way and pull it in a slow, leisurely motion from around his neck. She gulped and pulled her fingers back into her palms. Her red nails dug into her skin.

  His shirt was loosely tucked into the waistband of black jeans that caressed his hips and thighs just enough to define the strong form of his lean muscled legs. A shiny silver oval buckle adorned his black tooled belt and peeked out from between his jacket.

  Dawn’s fickle hands now wanted to undo that belt, pull it slowly—or maybe really quickly—from his belt loops, drop it to the ground, and begin unfastening his jeans.

  Hot didn’t even begin to describe the way this man looke
d tonight.

  As she was seducing him with her zealous thoughts, he emitted a low whistle and grabbed her hand and began to twirl her around. She felt the fringe on the hem floating over her thighs. It was a total turn on to know he was staring at the way the long strands were lapping teasingly against her bare skin.

  “This is one hell of a sexy look you have going on here, Miss Malone. You are giving a whole new meaning to fringe.” He cocked one brow, adding, “And my people do know our fringe.” His eyes moved down to her towering rhinestone sandals and back up to the top of her rhinestone adorned head. “I might have to cancel our dinner reservations because I’m not sure I want to share you with anyone else tonight.”

  He shook his head and sighed. “I suppose anticipation is part of the fun, though.” His voice was filled with innuendo. The provocative expression on his face bespoke his inner most thoughts as his eyes narrowed and misted with desire.

  Her insides began to quake. “We don’t have to go out tonight,” she managed to gasp.

  A heavy sigh escaped him as he leveled his shimmering gaze on her face. “That is way too tempting, but tonight is kind of special because Joseph Red Feather is playing at a club in Phoenix and I’ve made reservations for the concert and dinner.” His handsome face drew into a conflicted frown. “But—”

  She reached out and put her finger against his lips. “We have the entire night ahead of us and I would love to see Joseph Red Feather. We might skip dinner, though.”

  He hesitated for an instant before his lips curved into a smile behind her red polished fingertip. “I definitely don’t need food when I’m with you, but I was pretty excited to know Joseph Red Feather was playing locally again so I could take you to hear him.”

  She smiled and without hesitation leaned forward, rose up on the toes of her stilettos slightly—with this added height she was not that much shorter than him—and placed her glossy red lips against his mouth.