Blooddrinker's Prophecy

by Anna Abner

  #

  Roz had never been invited inside the Coven building in downtown Las Vegas, and it rankled her to now beg for recognition from a bunch of women who’d rejected her. Especially after the deaths of Marta Kaufman and her acolyte Sara, two Coven witches who met with Roz’s group and never returned. She didn’t expect to be welcomed with open arms.

  Hence, the .38 snub-nosed pistol shoved through the rear waistband of her jeans and Maksim Volk at her side. There was very little the pair of them couldn’t handle.

  And if there was any way of sweet-talking the Coven into removing the blood curse from Violet, then Roz must try. The woman had no part in the supernatural clusterfuck she was smack in the center of.

  Standing across the street from the black, glass-walled tower, she called her power and said, “Reveal magic.” The building flashed with a nest of neon squiggles, so many it looked like a Jackson Pollack painting, everything from protection and defense spells to concealment and confusion spells. It made Roz wonder what they were hiding.

  “It’s sick with magic,” she told Ali, Violet, and Maks who flanked her on the busy sidewalk. “It permeates every floor, wall, and ceiling in the place.”

  “Is that good or bad?” Violet asked, clutching her belly. The poor girl was a trooper to put up so well with the shit she’d been through. As if being a vampire donor wasn’t bad enough—and they were legendarily cruel to their donors—she’d been shot with black magic.

  “I guess we’ll see.” With a final look at Maks—alarmingly quiet, his eyes cold and hard like black concrete—Roz stepped off the curb and headed straight for the main entrance. Giant double doors slid open as they approached.

  The lobby was marble-floored with tall fluted columns and dotted with tasteful artwork depicting ancient ruins and full moons. Across the wide space was a curving reception desk and a perky blonde woman operating a computer and the phones.

  “Welcome to the American headquarters of the Coven,” she greeted cheerily. “How may I help you?”

  Roz lurched forward, Maks crowding her every step. “Good morning,” she said, straining for courteousness, but it wasn’t in her nature to be polite or even all that friendly. “I’d like to speak to someone in charge.”

  “Do you know the name of the person you wish to see?”

  Roz had combed the Coven’s website so many times for information, she knew most pages by heart. “Heather Connelly,” Roz said. Might as well summon the most powerful witch in the place. According to their site, Heather was the CEO and high priestess. “She should know who put a curse on my friend here.”

  For a moment, the receptionist’s pretty smile faltered. Silently, she opened and then closed her mouth.

  There was an elevator to the right of reception, and Roz waved the lady off as she jogged toward it and hit the big green button. Immediately, the little screen beside the door turned red, and white letters spelled out: Swipe ID here. She punched the button again, but nothing changed.

  Furious now, Roz stomped back to the desk, and then stuttered to a stop at the unexpected sight that greeted her. Maks had the receptionist bent backwards over her curving desk in a very uncomfortable looking position, his face in the crook of her neck.

  “No,” Roz gasped, running to stop him before he ruined everything.

  As she closed the distance, she heard his whispered words.

  “Do you know what happens when I puncture your carotid?”

  The woman squirmed and made a noise Roz hoped never to hear another human make again.

  Roz looked to Ali for support. “You’re not going to stop him?”

  But it was Violet who answered. “He won’t hurt her.”

  Roz snorted in disbelief. Her mouth open in uncertainty, she listened to Maks’ quiet threats.

  “You’ll bleed out, but the hole will be so small, it’ll take a very,” he smelled her, “very long time. You will bleed and bleed and bleed…”

  “Are you going somewhere with this?” Roz snapped. “We’re standing in a building full of witches who want to annihilate us.”

  Maks continued, unperturbed. “You’ll feel weaker and lighter until lifting your head will be too strenuous.” His nose bumped her cheek. “No one comes after me or mine.” He opened his mouth as if to strike.

  Violet’s small white hand landed on his shoulder. “Maks.”

  He didn’t react right away, and then slowly the tight muscles in his chest and arms relaxed a fraction. His mouth swept down upon the receptionist’s neck, and when he drew away, he revealed a red X scratched into her throat. He’d marked her, like a particularly juicy steak he was saving for later.

  When he released her, the woman fell forward off the desk and smacked upon the marble floor, both hands clamped to her neck.

  “I didn’t do anything,” she panted in a tremulous voice.

  “That’s why you’re still alive,” Maks said.

  “Get somebody down here,” Roz told her. “I’m a witch, and I want to talk to someone in charge of this godforsaken place.”

  The woman removed one visibly shaking hand from her throat and grabbed the phone, knocking it onto the floor. It took her a couple moments longer than necessary to dial a number.

  “I need you,” she gasped into the phone. The handset rattled into the cradle, and then she said to them, her brown eyes wide and unblinking, “Back away from my desk, you frickin’ psychos.” Her wobbly voice did not lessen her command. “Heather’s on her way down.”

  As Roz moved toward a pair of faux leather sofas, the receptionist gathered her things and, while texting furiously, walked out of the side door and onto the street.

  Five minutes passed, and then the elevator descended, the doors opened, and a forty-something woman in a tailored pantsuit stepped into the foyer also texting, her high heels clicking upon the marble.

  “You dare come into my building and assault my employees?” she greeted, her tone and expression like cold steel.

  “Thanks for coming down from your tower to speak to us,” Roz said unkindly. “A couple of your Coven witches showed up to my home and cursed someone under my protection.” She gestured to Violet, who strode forward. “And you’re going to break the curse. Right now. Right here.”

  “I’m sorry,” Heather said, not looking or sounding sorry at all, “but you’re mistaken. Our organization is dedicated to protecting and training young witches not casting curses.”

  Maks lunged forward, and both Ali and Violet held him back, one on each arm.

  Heather pointed at him. “Keep your attack dog leashed,” she warned.

  “If there’s one thing I’ve learned,” Roz said, “it’s nobody controls Maksim Volk.” Tilting her head, she added, “The witches you sent to kill him learned that the hard way.”

  Heather opened her mouth to say something, but Roz spoke over her. “And I’m not mistaken about anything.” These uppity bitches had the nerve to look down on her, and it infuriated her. Especially the way they pretended to be so holy and helpful when both she and Heather knew the Coven’s true mission was to train little witch warriors to wipe out vampires and shifters so they’d be the only supernatural powers left on earth. Roz happened to like one vampire and one shifter, in particular, and the idea of her boys being murdered by this skank left a very bad taste in her mouth.

  “Break the curse,” Roz insisted. “Now. Violet is an innocent human being. She doesn’t deserve this, and you can stop it.”

  No reaction.

  “We’ll go to the First Witch,” Roz threatened, for the sole purpose of discovering Heather’s buttons. “We’ll break the curse with or without you.”

  Heather chuckled softly. “The First Witch is a bedtime story. I sincerely hope you don’t travel all the way to the Ukraine to search for someone who doesn’t exist. It’ll be a huge waste of time and resources.” She smirked. “Ms. Carrera, you’ve seriously outdone yourself today. You’ll be hearing from our lawyers.”

  “Another cease a
nd desist letter?” Roz taunted. “Oooh. Scary.”

  “Now, politely leave the premises, or I’ll have you dragged out.”

  “You’re going to kick me out?” Roz exclaimed. “Unbelievable.”

  “Ms. Carrera,” Heather said, her voice finally slipping into annoyance. “Your application was denied for specific reasons. Perhaps you ought to take the hint.” With that, she spun and clicked her heels back across the marble lobby and swiped her ID for the elevator.

  “What a bitch,” Roz grumbled.

  Heather must have heard because she pivoted as the elevator doors swooshed open. “Marta was a close friend, and Sara was full of potential,” she said. “Don’t think for a moment that I don’t know you’re a murderer, and I could have you arrested at any time.”

  As a final warning, the high priestess said into her phone, “I need security in the lobby.”

  “Save it,” Roz taunted. “We’re leaving.”

  The bright, clear sunshine seemed to cleanse Roz’s temper.

  “I don’t like them,” Ali said grumpily as she stepped onto the sidewalk.

  “I didn’t think they’d help,” Roz said. “But we had to try.”

  “So, what now?” Violet asked.

  Roz looked into her anxious amber eyes, but didn’t know the words to reassure her. “We’ll think of something.”

  “Until then,” Violet asked, “can we get some food? I’m starving.”

  #

  Maks didn’t speak after leaving the tower, and neither did the girls. It was a long, quiet ride back to the fifty-first floor of the Le Sort Hotel. The only sound for most of it was Violet’s wrappers crinkling as she devoured fast food.

  Maks should have done more. He should have torn the receptionist’s heart out, and then force-fed it to Heather Connelly.

  He should have done something to actually help.

  He’d tried to do the right thing, but the more he tried, the more fucked everything became. Maybe he wasn’t a ‘do the right thing’ kind of guy.

  Because Violet remained cursed.

  The elevator opened on their floor. Violet, clutching a wadded, greasy bag of half-eaten food, stepped around him into the hall, followed closely by Roz.

  Ali passed him next, gracing him with a small smile. “Sorry,” she said.

  On impulse—maybe it was her sympathy, maybe it was her mother’s eyes in her sweet face—Maks lifted Ali’s hand as she neared, pressed a kiss to it, and released her. It was over in an instant, and yet he felt altered by it. A father’s gesture.

  Connor, with Markus at his side, opened the door to his and Ali’s suite for them.

  “It didn’t work,” Roz grumbled, shoving past Connor into the living room. “They won’t help us.”

  “They were horrible,” Violet agreed.

  Ali gave the men a quick summary of the events, glossing over the worst parts. “The high priestess, or whatever she’s called, wouldn’t even admit what they’d done.”

  “It’s not over,” Maks promised, clenching and unclenching his fists. “I have another idea.”

  “Well,” Roz snapped, tossing her keys and wallet on the kitchen bar, “I’m all ears.”

  Roz irritated him, and so he gazed at Ali as he spoke, which in a way was more difficult. “The witches want me. I’ll trade myself to them in exchange for a cure.”

  “We can’t trust them,” Ali said immediately. “They’d kill you.”

  “I have to agree,” Roz told him with reluctance. “They’re evil. They won’t hold to any bargains you make with them.”

  “I think it’s worth a try,” he said.

  Violet had taken a magical bullet for him. The least he could do was repay the favor. In fact, he was probably even further in her debt than that. He’d kept her a prisoner even when he didn’t have to.

  “Excuse me?” Violet stepped directly into his eye line. “Can I speak to you? In private?”

  Her amber eyes were so sincere, so full of empathy and anxiety. Maks could still remember the silky soft feel of her skin, her sweet-smelling hair, her little puffs of breath. He didn’t deserve anything as pure or as decent as her. He deserved death, to be honest. He deserved exactly what had happened to him.

  Nodding, he followed her into the bedroom they’d been sharing.

  She closed the door and whirled on him. “Tell me you’re just saving face in front of those people. Please tell me you care more about dying than you’re letting on.”

  He sighed. She shouldn’t worry about him. “If I die, then it’s no more than I deserve. Especially, if my death can save you.” He lowered his voice. “I’ve done horrible things in my life. Maybe this is my time to pay for them.”

  “No.” She said it so simply, so distinctly, he was momentarily struck dumb. “I don’t accept that.”

  She didn’t know anything about him. Memories flashed of his time in prison, and then his existence before.

  “You don’t know me,” he said gently. “I may look like a beautiful child, but I am not. I am a full-grown man with a man’s regrets, emotions, and desires. And you don’t have to save me.”

  “Too late.” She grasped his shirt in both fists and shook him. “You owe me,” she hissed. “I saved your miserable life, and now you owe me.”

  He couldn’t answer her honestly. So, he got angry. “I bowed to Oleksander. I bowed to Sergei. I didn’t fight. That’s who I am, moppet. I bow. I scrape. I kiss greater men’s boots to make it through another day without having to actually do anything.” He stalked her, forcing her back until her knees hit the edge of the mattress, and she sat. “I’m not a hero.”

  “You caught me when Sergei threw me out of a window,” she reminded him. “So, you’re full of shit. And what about those people out there? You’re gonna leave them without a fight?”

  That was low. He thought of Ali. He would really love a relationship with her. He’d love to tell her stories about her mother and see her blossom into the woman she would become.

  Violet continued, “You’re not sacrificing yourself for me. Do you understand?”

  “There aren’t many other options,” he reminded her. “This spell will kill you.”

  “Then think faster.”

  He grunted in dismay, though secretly he adored her attitude, so at odds with her sweet little body. “A magical spell that cannot be undone? A blood curse with no cure?” he reminded her. “If I had a year to ponder it, it wouldn’t make any difference. And we don’t have a year.” He shook his head at the ceiling. “Fucking witches.” He’d never met a decent spellspeaker. And he’d met a few.

  Roz opened the door without knocking or asking permission. “Sounds to me like we need the First Witch.”

  #

  Violet stared openmouthed, and a little frustrated, at Roz. She’d much rather yell at Maks some more. Arguing with him was making her feel loads better. But maybe the witch was right.

  The Coven idea hadn’t worked, but it was possible pleading her case to the First Witch, whatever the hell that was, would be more successful.

  There must be a cure. She had to go home, hug her son, and be healthy enough to raise him for at least the next eighteen years or so. She wouldn’t accept any other outcome.

  “By the way,” Roz added. “You’re on TV.”

  “What?” She glanced at Maks.

  They rushed into the living room where a news program played on the wide screen. At their entrance, Connor skipped back to the beginning with the remote.

  “We have an update on a missing person’s case right here in Las Vegas,” the newsman said. “Violet Russell, the single mother who’s been missing in our area the past nine weeks has called her family in Fayetteville, North Carolina. She is alive and well, but she has not yet contacted authorities. Detectives have a lot of questions. Miss Russell, if you’re listening, please call the nearest police station and talk to the officers there.” Then he moved on to the weather.

  “You called your mom?” Maks asked.


  She stared unseeing at the television.

  Connor said in his brash, military tone, “You have to turn yourself in, or they’ll be searching for you. I can’t afford to be brought in for questioning, not in my line of work.”

  “Yeah. Of course.” She thought of her baby son. Jackson was so close, she could practically hear his cooing. “I have a son,” she said softly. “He deserves a mother.”

  “When we find a cure, we’ll come for you.” Maks blinked and lowered his gaze. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  “Anything but offer yourself,” she reminded him.

  Maks remained silent.

  Ali neared. “You can finally go home. This is good news. Your days of being a captive blood donor for a bunch of vicious vampires is over.”

  “Yeah,” Markus chimed in, “this is really good news.”

  If leaving was such good news, then why did she feel so sad? “I’ll be okay.” Violet nodded at Maks. “I saved his life. He owes me.”

  “Owes you what?” Ali pushed.

  Violet glanced briefly at Maks and then away.

  Ali rolled her eyes before adding, “When you talk to the police, tell them you were captured by vampires and kept in the abandoned St. Peter’s Hospital. But you don’t remember anything. You escaped the first chance you got. We’ll say we found you on Tropicana in need of help.”

  The desk phone rang. Ali picked it up, and her expression darkened. After disconnecting, she announced, “So much for turning yourself in. The front desk says police are on their way up.”

  Chapter Six

  Violet looked from Ali to Maks. “Police?” she stammered. “Here?”

  There was a loud, abrasive knock at the door. Nothing friendly about it. Markus answered, and a uniformed officer barged in ahead of a detective in a cheap suit and forced Maks face first against the wall.

  “No one move,” the uniform demanded, frisking Maks.

  Violet wasn’t sure whether to be amused that Maks would allow the officer to treat him in such a way or concerned that police were breaking into their private rooms.

  “Violet Russell?” the detective asked gruffly, placing heavy hands upon her shoulders. “You’re safe now. We’re here to take you home.”