The man’s complexion paled. “Control me? How?”
“Let’s put negative thoughts out of our minds.” She turned her back on him, but Christoff watched her lips curl into a smile. “Let me think. Where would be the best place to start?” She spun around, the smile gone from her devious face. “Show me to the bedrooms.”
As they climbed the stairs, she asked the man his Christian name.
“Anthony.” He answered automatically. His gaze directed at the room at the top of the stairs.
“Anthony,” she repeated, melodically. “Such a strong name.”
“I was named after my father and his father before him.” Anthony informed her as he stopped in front of his daughter’s room.
The gypsy’s eye’s twinkled. “So, I guess that makes you Anthony Addams the third?”
Christoff’s supernatural hearing detected her whispered, “Ca-ching”, as she stepped into the child’s room to begin her deception. “Do you mind if I call you, Tony.”
“Actually, yes. I’d prefer –”
“Hush.” With her finger pressed to her lips, she silenced him. “I need you to remain quiet while I try to detect the entities in the room.” She closed her eyes, expanding her chest and holding out her hands as if to welcome a lover into her deadly embrace. “Are there any spirits present?”
A gust of wind blew the curtains and the small crystal chandelier swung from side to side. Christoff shook his head. Parlor tricks. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but be a little impressed. She had talent. Talent for knowing the best use of her powers, and talent for choosing the right victims. A chandelier in a child’s bedroom? These people had more money than sense.
She opened her eyes, turning towards Anthony as she told him. “They are angry with us for being here. I feel their hatred towards me.” With an open hand, she fanned her face. “Is it getting hot in here? I’m feeling a little…” Her legs buckled beneath her, but with plenty of time for her prey to catch her before she fell.
Clever girl.
After positioning her on the end of the child’s bed, Anthony rushed to the ensuite and returned with a wet compress.
“Thank you,” she sighed, moistening her forehead and cheeks with the compress. She kept her eyes trained on his face as she lowered the cloth to her neck, then chest, pausing for effect at her cleavage.
When she unfastened the first few buttons of her blouse to pat at the skin of her breasts, the husband’s eyes widened. As did Christoff’s. Despite their size, her plump, tanned breasts almost defied gravity. His fingers twitched as he imagined squeezing the tender orbs. Anthony, gasped and turned away.
The gypsy may not have seen the bulge in the distinguished, Anthony Addams the third’s tailored trousers, but the twinkle in her eye provided Christoff with the information he suspected. More of her parlor tricks. As he adjusted the crotch of his own pants, he wondered, just how far would this woman go?
“I’m feeling a little better now.” She rose from the bed and dipped into the pocket of her skirt. “Take this charm for your wife. I’ll place the other on the dresser for your lovely daughter.” As she moved towards the dresser, her skirt blew up over her head, fluttering there long enough to allow both men an enjoyable view of her ample derriere. What type of undergarment is this? Christoff could hardly believe she would find the garment comfortable. The thin scrap of silk not much more than a band at her waist, completely exposing her buttocks. What was the point of even wearing such a thing? She turned, her skirt still flapping around her ears and he gasped. A triangle of almost transparent white lace, accentuating rather than covering her private parts. White? Was she playing the ingénue? He suspected her innocence had been taken long ago.
“Oh, my,” she squealed, forcing the skirt to behave. “They seem to be annoyed at me for helping you. I’m so embarrassed.” Her hands shot to her cheeks and her chin lowered.
After clearing his voice, Anthony assured her she had nothing to be ashamed about. The color in his cheeks told a different story, as did the bulge in his pants. Something inside Christoff stirred. Something buried deep down for centuries. A low growl resonated through the room. The gypsy’s eyes widened, and she turned her head quickly from side to side. Had she heard him? She shook her head. A subtle shake but there, nonetheless. He’d need to be more careful. He wasn’t ready to confront her, not yet. Not until he’d learned as much as he could.
She moved towards the man with the agility of a jungle cat and reached up to grasp the charm at his sternum. “We must work quickly, using our collective energies. I will focus on the power of your charm while you hold tight to the one around my neck.”
The elegant Mr. Addams the third, gulped as he reached inside the gypsy’s shirt, fumbling at her breasts as he drew on the deceptively long chain. By the time he’d located the charm, his cheeks were as red as the tie he’d discarded in the living room, and her blouse gaped even wider. She leaned into him, mumbling a chant as she pushed her breasts against the charm, forcing his hands deep into her blouse. Forcing her hips against his growing erection.
How far did she plan to take this sham? Would she really sell her body? Of course, she would, you fool. She’d already extorted thousands from this family and that was before she’d established his worth. He leaned back against a wall and waited for her next move. He didn’t have to wait long.
Suddenly, she flew backwards onto the bed, her skirt once again around her ears. Christoff blinked, then blinked again. Had his eyes deceived him? Did the husband push her?
“What are you doing?” she screamed at the man who fumbled at his zipper as he approached the bed.
“I don’t know!” he yelled back. “Honestly, I don’t understand what’s happening.”
Despite his denial, Anthony maneuvered himself between her legs, tearing her blouse open, cupping her breasts, all the while protesting his innocence. She wiggled beneath him, begging him to stop. Pleading with him. It was almost convincing. Almost.
Anger boiled in Christoff’s belly. Instinct told him to aim his fury at the charlatan, certain she had choreographed the entire situation. She was the puppet master. Despite this, he found himself desperate to annihilate the puppet. Wanting to tear him limb from limb. How dare he touch those breasts? Pathetic human with pathetic human lusts. Surely his love for his wife would have given him the strength to fight her seduction? Has he no willpower at all? No self-respect?
With a shove, she managed to push him away before the situation intensified.
“I’m so sorry.” Anthony sobbed as he backed away from the bed, zipping his fly. “It must have been the spirits controlling me.”
She sat up, flattening down her skirt as her breasts jiggled free of the cotton blouse, tempting Christoff to test the weight for himself. She took her time covering her modesty, tying the ends of her torn blouse in a knot before slipping her feet over the edge of the bed.
“This has never happened to me before.” She informed him, a tremble in her voice. “I think I should speak to your wife about it. Ask if you’ve ever done something like this to another woman. If she verifies your story, I won’t press charges.”
“My wife? No. Please don’t tell my wife.” He begged, cupping his hands in front of his chest. “She wouldn’t understand.”
She rose to her feet and tidied up the mass of curls with her fingers as she pretended to wipe a tear from her eye. “I don’t know you or your wife, Mr. Addams but I can’t let this sort of behavior go unpunished. You tried to –”
“Please, Madame Eva. I’m begging you. I love my wife. I’ve never cheated on her.” He dropped to his knees on the floor. Christoff almost felt sorry for the man as he begged for absolution.
“I’ll pay you extra to forget this happened.” Fumbling into his pants’ pocket, he pulled out a wad of bills and counted out four thousand dollars. “Here.” He pushed the money at the not-so-distressed woman. “An extra thousand to forget this ever happened?”
She snatched the money from his hand and gl
ared down at him. “Four thousand? You think my silence can be bought with a measly one thousand dollars?”
“But –”
“Must I remind you, Tony. You had your sweaty palms on my boobs, squeezing them for all they’re worth.” She simulated her accusations using her own cupped hands for effect. “You had your pecker almost inside me. If I hadn’t pushed you, who knows how far you’d have gone.”
He dropped down, sitting on his heels. His hands covering his face as he sobbed.
“I know, I know. Something compelled me to do it. I couldn’t control myself. I wanted you so badly, I would have … oh, god. I’m so sorry.”
“I believe that you’re sorry.” She told him with a condescending pat to his head. “But I’m going to need lots of therapy to get over this. Lots of expensive therapy.”
“Take it all.” He emptied his pockets, spilling hundred dollar bills at her feet. “Just, please. Don’t tell anyone what happened. It would be the ruin of me.”
She leaned down, scooped the notes into her pocket and strolled to the door, calling over her shoulder as she left. “The evil presence has left the room. I will cast it completely from the house on my way out.”
Christoff shimmered after her as she made her way down the stairs and out of the house. For the first time that night, she had told the truth. Evil had indeed left the house, and, if he had anything to do with it, she wouldn’t be back.
Chapter Three
After a quick stop at the liquor store, Evangeline hurried back to her mobile home. The weight in her skirt pocket reminded her to hurry. Nothing good could come of wandering the streets alone at night, especially carrying thousands of dollars in cash. The occasional footstep behind her made her turn. No one. She reasoned that her imagination was playing tricks but rushed anyway. She’d worked hard for that money and no one was going to take that away. Not again.
Her hands shook as she turned the key and she almost dropped it. What’s wrong with you? Once inside, she locked the three deadlocks and plonked down on the bed. Safe. Well, as safe as one could be in a broken down, crap-heap of a campervan. She pulled the notes from her pocket, spreading them over the worn quilt. So many hundred-dollar bills. A squeal of delight escaped unbidden. She covered her mouth with her hand. The area she’d chosen to park the van may have been isolated, but you never knew who might be within earshot.
After stacking the notes in piles of ten, she began counting her stash. One, two, three, four, five. Five thousand dollars! She gave herself a mental pat on the back. Not bad for one night’s work. But, as usual, the exhilaration soon dissipated when she thought back to how she’d acquired the windfall. Poor Tony. He seemed like a nice guy. Most of her targets were nice people. Nice, rich, people. People who could easily manage with a few thousand less in their fat bank accounts. The familiar pang of guilt tied knots in her stomach, she doubled over and groaned, trying to convince herself that she was merely hungry. The pain passed. The guilt didn’t.
She grabbed the brown paper bag from the bed, grateful that she’d remembered to make a pit-stop on the way home. It’s just you and me again, Jim. The bottle declined to answer, but she didn’t mind. The sweet, dark liquid may not have been much of a conversationalist, but it was good company on a lonely, summer’s eve. Evangeline sighed. What would Mama think if she could see me, sitting alone, drinking from a bottle? Tears burned behind her eyes, but she blinked them away and reached for her cell phone.
“Hello, Mama?”
“Evangeline? Is that you, baby?”
“Yes, Mama. How are you? Are they treating you well?”
“I’m fine, honey. Just fine. Excuse me a minute…” Cough. “The staff here are very kind, but I miss you. When are you coming to visit me?”
“Soon.” She stared down at the piles of cash. “My boss just gave me a bonus. Soon I’ll have enough money for a deposit on a small house. We can be together again.”
“I’d like that.” Her mother said. “I’d like that very much, but—”
“I know what you’re going to say, and I don’t want to hear it.” Evangeline covered her mouth with her hand, swallowing the sob that threatened to betray her. Must stay strong for Mama. “You’re going to get well.”
After a long pause, her mother spoke.
“I know you’re very busy at work, but I’d really like to see you. There are things I need to say, things you should know. Important things.”
“Next week. I could be there by Friday. Would that be okay?” Will that be too late?
“Friday! Oh, darling. That would be wonderful. I can’t wait to see you.”
“Then, it’s a date. I gotta go now. Sweet dreams.”
“Sweet dreams, my darling. Mwah. I love you so much.”
“I love you, too.”
She depressed the “hang up” key and dissolved into tears. Hang on Mama. I’ll get the money, somehow. We’ll find a cure. The pile of money seemed to shrink before her eyes. Not enough. Not nearly enough for both a deposit on a home plus medical expenses. Together with the bag of money stashed in the wall safe, she had a grand total of seventy-eight thousand dollars.
Gotta think. She took another swig from the bottle before hiding the night’s takings with the rest of her money. Mama sounded dreadful. Worse than the last time they spoke. How much time did she have left? She stalked the tiny home, taking large gulps of alcohol from the bottle as she thought aloud.
“I need to pull off something big. Something worth hundreds of thousands. But how?”
The lights in the room began to flicker in quick succession.
“Damned generator!” Slamming the bourbon down onto the table, she opened the kitchen cabinet and snatched up three candles and a packet of matches. Before she had time to light them, the lights went out.
“Fuck.”
Black as pitch, the inside of the home seemed darker than outside. She opened the curtains a little to allow the moon to illuminate the room. No sooner had she done so, when she noticed it. Something on the table emitted its own light. On closer inspection, she gasped. Slap dang in the middle of the pile of trinkets, glowed one particularly unusual medallion. Hesitantly, she reached out and touched the object with the tip of her index finger, immediately regretting her decision.
“Ouch!”
She fumbled her way to the sink and held her finger to the cold water until the pain subsided, but the damage was already done. Damn. That’s going to blister. Intuition warned her to destroy the object or, at the very least, toss it far into the woods, but she fought the impulse. Whatever this was, it had power. Heaps of it. If she could somehow learn to harness this power…
“What the fuck?”
A face stared back at her through the window. A male face, as pale as snow with eyes as cold as a blizzard. The money! As she ran to the kitchen, her thoughts raced to the small wall safe. How much had he seen? She snatched up the largest knife she could find and turned back to the window. The gall of the man. He hadn’t moved, despite knowing he’d been noticed. What nerve.
“I have a knife and I’m prepared to use it,” she warned as the knife shook in her hand.
His expression remained unchanged, unaffected by her threat. Ice cold. She considered jumping into the driver’s seat and driving away, but as if he could read her mind, he shook his head. Bile rose in her throat. She swallowed it down, regretting the large quantity of alcohol she’d consumed. Think, Evangeline.
“Give me the medallion.” He ordered. A pane of glass the only thing between her and the intruder. She shook her head and used the knife blade to slide the medallion into her pocket. If this man wanted it so bad, it must be worth a fortune.
“Go fuck yourself.” She told him, embarrassed at how meek the words sounded aloud. She’d hoped to sound intimidating. She didn’t.
“Give me the medallion, and I’ll let you live.”
Let me live? Her heart beat a mile a minute and she found breathing difficult. She leaned against the kitchen table fo
r support as the strength left her legs. God, help me. He’s gonna kill me. She fixed her gaze on the man, afraid to look, afraid to look away. Nothing in his expression gave her any hope of convincing him to spare her. Despite his handsome features, the long straight nose, the cropped wheat-blond hair and ice-blue eyes, there was no doubt in her mind. This man was a stone-cold killer.
“Open the door.” He instructed, and her legs obeyed.
What? No! She forced herself to stop just as her hand touched the first lock. What the hell? How was he doing that?
“Open the door!” he repeated as she fought the compulsion to comply.
“I don’t know how you’re doing that, but stay the fuck out of my head, you asshole!”
She turned back to face the window. His expression had changed slightly. He seemed more focused, maybe a little annoyed.
“You will let me in.”
“No, I won’t.” At least I hope I won’t. The compulsion intensified as she stared into his hypnotic, pale eyes. Must fight it. Mustn’t look into his eyes.
She reached out, grabbing the edges of the curtains, and pulled them shut. It was a risk, she knew that, but what choice did she have? Somehow, he had found a way to use his eyes to control her mind. Another thought hit her. A realization that gave her hope of surviving the night. The supernatural abilities. The pale skin and hypnotic eyes. She’d heard stories of creatures with those characteristics but, until now, she’d never believed them. Vampire.
He can’t come in unless invited.
“Open the door!”
The sound of footsteps moved from the side to the front of the van, stopping outside the door.
She held her breath. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe he was playing a sick game. Maybe this was the end. The van shook as he pounded on the door. She covered her ears with her hands and curled into a tight ball on the floor.
“Go away!”
The pounding at the door stopped, but the pounding in her chest increased.
“This isn’t over,” he warned her. “I’ll be watching you.”
And Now You're Mine Page 2
