She cried out in pain. ”Fuck you.” Her head went woozy and the room shifted.
Wheezing for breath. Matt managed a kick behind Lucien’s knees. The vampire stumbled and let go of her hair. Taking advantage, Rita rolled her body across the debris littered floor until she reached the studded wall. Glass piled against the beam bit into her scalp above her ear. She yelped, pushed to sit up, and pressed a hand to her wound. Sweat mixed with blood dripped down her cheek.
Lucien walked to the entry door. He stopped short and picked up a long glass shard. He turned toward Rita and drew his arm back over his head. He smiled. Her breath caught.
“NO!” Matt’s shout erupted the same instant he crouched and threw his body sideways in front of Rita to fend off the thrown shard. He landed on his side with a thump and lay motionless.
Rita choked on a sob.
A low keening came from Anna. She hugged the ball to her chest.
Warm blood dribbled down Rita’s cheek and stained her sweatshirt. The ribbed collar felt clammy against her skin. The amulet grew lead-heavy, the chain pulling on the back of her neck. She glanced down, the blood dripping onto the amulet had turned the crystal from clear to a deep purple. It had never changed colors before. A shadow blocked the light. She looked up and cursed her ancestors who had let this monster live.
Lucien loomed above her, his eyes wide and focused on her chest. Purple rays shot out of the amulet like a prism, the varying shades bounced over Lucien’s face. He hissed. His fangs receded. He threw an arm over his eyes and slowly, he eased away from her.
What the fuck?
The vampire turned and maneuvered around Anna, then grabbed her under her arms. He lifted her out of the chair and used her body as a shield to block the rays. Anna uttered a cry. Lucien shook her like a rag doll. The crystal ball rolled to the floor.
Fear for Anna lent new strength to Rita’s voice. “Leave her alone.”
“Daughter,” Anna gasped. “Ball….”
“Let her go, you fucking corpse!” Rita yelled so loud, her chest burned.
“Get the ball,” Anna whimpered.
Lucien turned and flung Anna over his shoulder like an old cape, her long hair streaming down past his hips. “I will teach you a lesson, Pretty One, and take our Anna. The man will die. Soon, I will hunt each of my descendants and break their bones like dry twigs.” He ran out into the settling darkness.
Rita swiped at the blood on her face, then felt the amulet. The purple rays had ceased. She didn’t have time to think about it, and looked around at the destruction. Dragus lay in the corner, holding his stomach, crying. She staggered to her feet, bent and felt for a pulse in Matt’s neck. Still beating. The shard had struck him deep. Her fingers circled one of the Maglites. She scooped up the crystal ball. Ignoring the throbbing pain in her head and hip, she followed Lucien and Anna into the night.
Chapter Fourteen
Rita limped across the porch, the beam from her flashlight piercing the gloom. She cradled the crystal ball in the crook of her arm. The cold breeze dried her sweat, and the blood stiffened on her face. She took a few tentative steps into the yard. Anna screamed. Rita swung the light beam at the sound. Lucien carried Anna toward his van, her arms down his back beating at him furiously. Rita ignored the cramping in her legs and ran in an uneven gait, her focus centered on Anna.
“Bring the ball,” Anna yelled.
Lucien tossed Anna onto the front seat, shoved her roughly aside, and scrambled in after her.
As Rita drew nearer, she made out Anna framed in the windshield caught in the flashlight beam. The motor roared to life, breaking the silence of the night. The headlights lit the transit van parked in front of it. Anna raked at Lucien’s face with her nails, then grabbed at the steering wheel. The van rolled inches backward and stopped.
“Ma!”
The van rolled again and stopped.
Rita moved as fast as she could over the uneven ground with the crystal ball pressed against her stomach to keep from dropping it. Her calves burned. She panted for breath.
The motor sputtered, coughed and died. The back wheels rested on the edge of the slope. The passenger door opened. The interior light switched on.
An owl screeched, a flutter of heavy wings swooped by Rita’s head, distracting her for a moment.
She swung her light back on Anna. Rita drew closer to the front wheel. Her mother put a hand to her mouth and threw a kiss. With the door open, Rita heard her weak voice. “Thro…bal…now.” Anna slid down the seat and out of sight.
Rita dropped the light. She hesitated for a second before clutching the orb to her chest like a basketball, and then heaving it at the windshield.
The crystal shattered.
Smoke shot out from the broken orb and encased the van in a wash of neon, red light. Lucien howled and shielded his eyes from the bursting release of the familia’s mystical, fiery power. The van rocked, tilted. The front bumper lifted upward, the van crackled as if surrounded with electricity. The back wheels slid over the edge.
The van disappeared.
“Jesus, what did I do?” Rita hobbled to the edge. She let loose a scream that tore through her vocal chords. She watched horrified as the headlights on the van bounced, arched, and crashed down the steep incline. The sound of rending metal pierced her ears.
Dragus shuffled up beside her. He clutched her arm, his breath short, hard puffs. He pointed his flashlight down the slope. “Sister?”
A ball of flame brightened the sky, followed by a deafening blast. Brakes from a diesel train shrieked from the tracks far below.
Rita folded and sank to her knees. She couldn’t look into Uncle’s eyes. “I…I threw the crystal ball. Her door was opened, but the flashing red smoke blinded me.” She buried her face in her hands, her chest ached.
In the back of her mind, she thought she heard sirens wailing, but they sounded far away. Uncle Dragus pulled her to her feet and shook her. “Police come soon. My sister gone.”
“No! She got out. Her arms are strong.”
“Your mama gone,” Dragus repeated. “Matt not good. You go care for him.”
“We have to look for Ma.”
Uncle rubbed his stomach and winced. “I look. Police come and help. You hurt. Best now you see to Matt.” Uncle Dragus pushed her back toward the house, then shuffled along the edge of the hillside, his flashlight bobbing up and down.
Rita entered the foyer. Matt lay on the floor, his eyes closed, face pale. Blood saturated his sweater. She knelt next to him. He still had a pulse, his face felt cold to her palm. “Stay with me, honey. Help’s on the way.” Not daring to touch the glass shard for fear of doing more harm, she took off her sweatshirt and covered him. The sirens blared closer. Rita gently smacked Matt’s face. His eyes fluttered. She kissed his forehead, stroked his cheek.
He moaned and whispered so softly, she barely made out the words, “Hide weapons”
Rita left his side and quickly gathered the scattered array of their arsenal littering the floor. She took her flashlight, ran into a side room and found a broken back window. Rita threw them out of the window and into the night. She hurried back to Matt.
Red and blue lights flickered into the foyer from the front door. “Here, hurry,” she beckoned from the entry. An ambulance had followed the units into the driveway.
Bobby raced into the foyer, Gus and two other uniforms on his heels. Bobby looked at her, then Matt. “Holy hell, what happened? What are you two doing here?”
Rita’s wound had reopened, and she wiped at the blood running down her cheek. “We thought we spotted The Ripper. He was trapped…trapped in the van. Ma went over the hill…with him.” Rita choked, her tongue numb. “Her door was open. Uncle’s searching for her. Ripper’s dead. Van exploded”
“Damn. Your family’s here, too? What….? Bobby scanned the destruction. “How’d it go down, Gypsy?”
“Later, Bobby. Please.”
“Okay.” He nodded to the others. “Gus, B
oots, Rob, take some lights. Go help her uncle. Hurry!”
Two EMT’s rushed to her. Rita waved them away and pointed to Matt. “Help him.”
The female EMT slid an IV needle into Matt’s vein while speaking in sharp tones into her headset. A young, freckle-faced guy packed gauze around Matt’s wound.
The room spun. Rita swayed.
“Whoa there.” Bobby wrapped one arm around her waist. “He pushed her hair away from the gash above her ear. You need to sit. You know better than to mess around with a head injury like that. Let’s get you into the car until the medics can look at you.”
She looked at Matt and tried to pull away. “Can’t.”
“Come on, Gypsy Girl, you’re gonna crash. The guys will find her.” Bobby half carried her and tucked her into the front seat of the squad car. The trunk popped and he returned to wrap a wool blanket around her shoulders. Bobby crouched down by the open door.
Fresh tears welled in her eyes. A heavy blackness tore at her heart. She felt as if her whole world had changed, and she sat on the outside looking in.
Bobby sighed, stared at the ground, plucked a few blades of grass. He glanced up, a hard glint in his eyes. “Gypsy, we’ll find her.”
Rita wiped her eyes. Another car swerved into the driveway kicking up dirt and stones, the Medical Examiner’s van on its tail. Della raced to her side, Sully and Hank hot behind her. “You look like shit, girlfriend.”
Rita opened her mouth to speak, but Bobby shook his head and stood. “The Ripper’s dead. The Fed took a bad hit, the medics are with him now. A team’s searching the hillside for her mom.”
“How the hell did this all happen?” Sully asked.
“He took Ma hostage,” Rita said.
“All of you, leave her alone.” Della shoved Sully. “Can’t you see she’s hurting? We’ll get to the down-low later.”
A police helicopter thumped, coming nearer, its searchlight brightening the treetops. Hank put his hand on the car roof and leaned in. “Station got a report of a vehicle smashing on the tracks.” Hank pounded the car roof. Rita jumped. The vibration shook the seat. “Shit! Your mother was in that van? ”
“No! No! She got out.” Rita didn’t mention the crystal ball or the red smoke that she prayed had protected her mother.
Della punched Hank’s arm. “Nice going with the mouth, Hank. Get some gear. Make yourselves useful. Go! Get! Find her mother.” Della hurried to the other side of the car and climbed into the front seat. She shoved the sleeves of her orange raid jacket up, and tugged the blanket tighter around Rita. Della studied the gash on Rita’s head. “Looks nasty.” She took Rita’s hand. “Cry, girl. Let it out.”
The helicopter’s rotor wash smothered Rita’s sobs. The freckle-faced EMT came out to the car and sidled in near Rita, his voice just slightly louder than the commotion around them. “The guy lost a lot of blood, there’s internal bleeding. Won’t know how bad until they get him into surgery. We’re packing him into the bus now. We have to move out. They’ll remove the glass at the hospital.” He tilted her chin up and examined her wound with a penlight. “You better come with us. You’ll need x-rays.”
“No,” Rita moaned. “I’m not leaving.”
“A doctor should look at that. Dispatch is sending another bus, but better safe than sorry.”
“I’ll get her there. You guys go ahead,” Della said.
“Your call.” He ran to the waiting ambulance. Siren wailing, the vehicle eased out to the road.
Rita gripped the wool blanket, her concentration on the constant movement on the hillside, the noise, the stabbing, bright lights. A blur of images passed before her eyes that meshed into a kaleidoscope of rapidly moving patterns. Della clutched Rita’s shoulder.
Uncle Dragus walked toward them, his steps slow. His flannel jacket hung loose on his bowed shoulders. He snuffled and swiped at his nose with his sleeve. He took Rita’s hand in his big paw. “They bring her up. Find by tree. She…she dead.”
“What?” Rita’s heart jumped into her throat. “No! She can’t be!” She broke loose from Della, elbowed past Dragus, and ran to the hillside.
Sully knelt, straightening Anna’s skirt around her ankles as her body lay on the blanket. He stepped away when Rita fell to her knees near her mother.
An ache ripped from deep inside Rita’s chest and escaped in a loud gut-wrenching cry. She touched her mother’s wrist, no pulse. Anna bore no visible scratches or burns. Her clothes were as clean as if she had just put them on. A small smile tilted Anna’s mouth. Rita clasped one hand on the crystal, the other on her mother’s cold cheek, and gazed into the open eyes. She jolted. In one eye, Rita’s visage looked back, reflecting both fear and horror. In the other was Anna’s face with the smile Rita knew so well, the smile filled with love for her daughter.
Rita sobbed, rocking back and forth, whispering, “Ma, the red power should have protected you. Why? Why?” Hugging herself, she tried to stop the pain shredding her insides. Someone patted her shoulder. Snatches of hushed voices conversed behind her. “Thrown from vehicle. Sure…override autopsy…cause obvious.” Rita tilted sideways, her surroundings blurred.
Hands clamped her arms. Della’s voice buzzed low in her ear. “I’m so sorry. Come on now, sweetie, we have to leave. We can’t do any more for her here.” Della asked Dragus for the keys to the transit van. Rita felt herself lifted and led away. Uncle Dragus said something from an echo chamber about needing to talk.
Then the stars blinked out.
Chapter Fifteen
Rita lay on the crisp, white sheet of the hospital bed, eyes closed, and listened to Uncle talking to the Chief. Della’s hand held hers. She recognized the smell of her friend’s favorite rose-scented lotion.
“Ja, We all get in our big van and go to plant place in Braddock for flowers. Matt say he help us carry big pots. We see old black van go onto bad road. Rita thinks maybe killer.”
“But, what I can’t figure out is why Rita and Matt didn’t leave you and Anna at the greenhouse and follow alone in the transit,” the Chief whispered.
“I tell you. If killer in old van, we stay back, call for police. But killer smart, he wait behind tree with rifle. He make us all go into old house. Dirt and glass on floor, big wall missing.”
“Then what happened?”
“Matt brave man. He try to take gun away, but man pick up glass, stab Matt and punch Rita. Rita fall down and cut her head. Man get gun back. He take my sister. I big man, move too slow. I try to stop him, but he hit me hard in stomach with rifle. I fall on floor. Rita call for help. We run out door and see them in van. They fall down over hill and explode. It happen fast.”
“Rita and Matt will fill in the rest of the story later. I called Matt’s director with a brief report last night. Director Witherson sends his condolences. Thank you, Dragus. I’m very sorry about Anna.”
The chair squeaked as Dragus shifted his weight. His sigh was shaky. “Ja, me too.”
Footsteps clacked on the tile. The whoosh of the curtain pulling back in place told Rita the Chief had left.
“You can open your eyes now,” said Della.
“Can’t fool you,” Rita mumbled around the cottony dryness of her tongue.
Della handed her an orange, plastic tumbler with water and a straw. “Drink slow. And before you ask, Uncle’s already talked to Matt. His operation went well. With lots of rest, he’ll be as good as new. You got twelve stitches, a slight concussion, a lovely mass of purple bruises, and a hunk of hair missing. But, amen, no brain damage. At least no more than usual.”
The light hurt Rita’s eyes. She sipped the water. “Del, would you mind if I have a few words with Uncle, alone?”
“Course not.” Della set the tumbler back on the tray. “I’ll go check on Matt again. By the way, thought you’d want to know, the Fairmont police found the other woman’s body in their city park last night.” She snapped her fingers. “And, oh, of all things, a crew from Homeland Security cordoned off the crash
site on the tracks. Won’t let us near it. They’re thinking a terrorist attack. Go figure.” She shrugged, grabbed the curtain.
“They’ll send us a report if they find themselves in agreement with our department about what happened. The Chief is pissed. Anyway, thank God it’s over. Be back in a bit. I’ll bring juice.”
“Thanks for being here for me, and for everything.”
“Get outta here, girl. Am I your best friend, or what?” Della winked and disappeared around the curtain.
Dragus pulled his chair close to Rita and reached for her hand. The dark circles under his eyes emphasized his pallid face and the long night he had spent waiting in the hospital. “Matt weak, but he tell me to stay close to truth. I think of flower place. He say to tell about fake rifle, too. They never find it.”
“I helped kill her.” Rita’s voice broke. “I shouldn’t have thrown the crystal ball.”
“No.” Dragus held a finger in front of his lips. “Not dishonor mother by taking blame. I tell you all now. Sister know she die soon.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Sister know?” Sister sounded strange, then Rita remembered their Romany taboo of speaking the dead person’s name aloud for the year it would take the soul to reach Heaven.
Dragus rubbed at his stomach and glanced over his shoulder. They were alone in the emergency bay. “Hush, little one. Listen. When sister start dreaming of wet blanket around her and bad smells, she tell me death stand next to her.”
Rita struggled with her uncle’s words. She remembered the weird dreams her mother had mentioned, had intended to pry further, but this case had occupied her mind. She clutched the blanket in her fists. “Why didn’t you tell me right away? We could have done something.”
“No. No. She make me speak solemn promise. Even you or my sister not stop death when it come, Rita. Could she stop our mama’s or poppa’s death? Your da’s?
Rita bunched the blanket tighter and glared at him. “And did she say how or when she was going to die? What would kill her? How long she may have had to live yet?”
Gypsy Blood (Born to Romany Blood, Book 1) Page 8
