Deceived: Bitter Harvest, Book One

by Ann Gimpel

  Ketha caught her breath, every nerve, every cell, alight with wanting the Vampire who’d run from her as if the dogs of Hell nipped at his heels. Why had she kissed him? What was wrong with her? She hadn’t meant to do anything of the kind, but her arms and lips and body had developed a will of their own.

  Maybe because it’s been years since I’ve made love.

  She smiled wryly, knowing that wasn’t it. Viktor might be her sworn enemy, but somehow turning hadn’t touched his soul. He was a new breed Vamp, but he didn’t hold their coldness, their lack of conscience. Despite his efforts to keep her out, she’d seen every thought, every nuance in his mind. Followed his inner struggle whether to trust her, and how much.

  He was a decent man, more man than Vamp, despite the passage of time. Could she turn him back?

  Why would I want to?

  The question rocked her to her moorings. If they were successful, and the barrier fell, would the magical working rooted ten years in the past play itself out and transform all the world’s Vamps into Shifters?

  Shit! If that happens, how will it alter Shifter magic? What about the old Vamps like Raphael? The ones who are pure evil. What kind of animals would they bond with?

  The implication of animals as wicked as their Vampire bondmates wreaking havoc was disturbing enough Ketha buried it deep. If what she suspected were true, the spell that broke the world and created the Cataclysm was the work of a small, secret group. She’d bet her last nickel—or peso—that most Vamps and Shifters had no idea why the world had turned upside down. If anyone else had figured it out, there wouldn’t still be a barrier keeping them sequestered from the rest of the world.

  Maybe.

  “What do you think?” she asked her wolf, not expecting a reply.

  “Both those Vampires are decent men,” the wolf replied.

  She sat up straighter. That had been her impression too.

  “We must trust someone,” the wolf went on. “I’m no longer strong enough to help you much.”

  She reached inward, heart aching for the animal who’d chosen her when her moon blood first began to flow. “How can I help?”

  “You can’t. All the bond animals will perish if nothing changes. Poisoned air. Bad water. Not enough food.” The wolf quieted, and she heard it panting.

  “Take your time, heart of mine.”

  “Nothing else to say. I love you. If there’s a battle to be fought, I will do everything I can to aid you.”

  Ketha blinked back tears and got to her feet. She trotted from one side of her cell to the other, glad to be free of the manacles. After she tripped over a pile of metal links twice, she kicked all the debris that had bound her beneath the stone bench that served as both chair and bed.

  She made her way to where water cascaded down a back wall and through a hole in the floor to somewhere far below she couldn’t see. Cupping her hands, she sluiced the icy liquid over her face and then drank her fill. It didn’t seem quite as contaminated as the water she scooped outside, but that made sense since this stream was cleansed as it traversed miles of underground earthen riverbed.

  Returning to the bench, she sat cross-legged on it. Surely, the Shifters involved in that Siberian meeting had been privy to hidden knowledge, or they’d never have agreed to parlay with Vampires—not if it signed their own magical death warrant and loosed a horde of evil on the world.

  Damn it! I’d give a whole lot to know more.

  Ketha longed for her library back in Wyoming. Or older, wiser Shifters to confer with. She’d become the leader of their small band here by dint of being strongest magically. Over time, they’d looked to her for answers, but she had no one to advise her. Before, it hadn’t mattered so much, but Ketha had a premonition she’d only get one chance to escape Ushuaia. Persuading the Vamps to cooperate would be a dicey proposition at best. If they agreed by some miracle she couldn’t quite see, and she muffed the spell, they’d all die, surrounded by menacing, gray-black skies and the red-tinged ocean.

  The sound of boots pounding over earth snapped her head up. Ketha wrapped her arms around herself and sent power zinging outward to see who approached. Breath whooshed out of her.

  Juan. It’s only Juan.

  She’d been frightened it was Raphael. She didn’t feel up to sparring with him. Not yet, anyway. She’d be on firmer ground once she’d taken a peek into the future and come up with better answers.

  “That was fast.” She got to her feet, waiting for him to unlock her cell door. There seemed to be some kind of touchpad next to the door, but it couldn’t be electronic unless it ran off a long-acting storage battery, which was possible.

  He opened the door and let himself inside, holding out her glass and a cloth sack. “We can move quickly when we want to. Finding your mirror was easy. It was right where you dropped it. Sorry the rations are so skimpy, but—”

  She held up a hand. “Don’t apologize. I’m grateful for anything.”

  Juan walked past her and put the items on the bench. When he turned to face her, his face was set in resolute lines. “Don’t fuck with Viktor,” he said without preamble. “He’s one of the good ones.”

  Ketha looked at him, wondering where that had come from. She didn’t bother denying her original idea to manipulate Viktor into freeing her, but there was no way the other Vamp could know that. Instead, she tried a different tactic.

  “You’re his friend.”

  “Vampires don’t have friends, but he and I were close when we were human. I worked with him, and men don’t come finer or more honorable than Viktor Gaelen.”

  “I sense his inner strength,” she said, picking her words carefully. “The best I can offer is I’ll be honest with him.”

  “If that’s the best, it’ll have to be good enough, but know this, Shifter”—Juan turned the undiluted force of his hazel gaze on her—“if you use him or hang him out to dry, I’ll make you sorry you were ever born. Viktor may have some of his humanity left, but I don’t.”

  “You’re wrong about that,” she called after his retreating back, but Juan didn’t even turn around.

  Ketha made her way to where her glass lay. No time like the present to return to what she’d been doing when she was captured. The more she had in the way of facts, the better the chance she could convince the Vamps to help.

  She hunkered in a corner, feet anchored on a patch of dirt and her back against dirt and stones. The more contact she had with the earth, the stronger her magic would be. Ketha blew on the glass to cloud its surface and gazed into it, chanting softly. She needed a vision of the future, perhaps more than one. It required more magic and a different incantation to look forward rather than back. Calling up the past was simple. A matter of recreating what had already occurred.

  The past was cast in stone, whereas the future glimmered with untapped possibility. No one knew exactly which future would come to pass until it happened. If she could tack down the options, though, she could exert some influence over them.

  Maybe.

  The glass cleared, images forming before her. Ushuaia lay tucked into the Tierra del Fuego range as if she viewed it from an aerial perch. Energy surged around the town, lending the sky its black-tinted aspect. Powerful magic coursed around the city, swirling in deadly jewel tones. Any hopes she’d had about the humans who’d fled early on surviving evaporated. The power held a hungry aspect. If she looked from a certain angle, it formed hundreds of mouths edged with razor-sharp teeth.

  Ketha let earth magic flow through her, welcoming its soothing calm. Along with the magic came a clear sense of her wolf, and its presence heartened her. At least so far, her vision lacked people. She altered her focus, narrowing it to pick up something other than the magical barrier. It was strong. So powerful its magic overshadowed everything else.

  Rags fluttering in the wind drew her attention to a group of Vamps marching along the remains of Ushuaia Harbor, Raphael in the lead. They made their way to the water’s edge and threw something into the
blood-red tide.

  Ketha bit back a scream and tamped down hard on her emotions. Strong reactions would bring her casting to a halt. The something that had been tossed into the ocean like so much garbage was a Shifter. Judging from the silver hair drifting in the water, it was probably Rowana.

  “I sure as hell don’t want this to happen,” Ketha muttered and withdrew her casting enough to alter which bit of the future showed itself to her.

  Things were unfolding faster, maybe because her magic was warming up, or because the future was anxious to show itself—in hopes someone could shape it into something better.

  The glass clouded before clearing again, offering her a new aspect. She altered the tone and timbre of her incantation. This time, when images formed, she saw a group that included all her Shifters and a dozen Vamps. Ketha counted twice to make certain Rowana was still among the living, and she breathed easier once she’d reassured herself. Raphael was there. So were Viktor and Juan and others she’d seen earlier today.

  “Your show, Shifter.” Raphael pointed a long-nailed index finger at the trance image of her.

  “Not exactly,” Ketha corrected him. “It’s all our shows. Not only mine.”

  The Vamp looked down his nose at her. “Get on with it before I change my mind.”

  Ketha smiled before withdrawing her energy enough to see what materialized next in her glass. At least one future held what she needed, but she couldn’t stop there. The more she knew, the better prepared she’d be to guide them toward the future she wanted. They had to do something. Remaining in Ushuaia, Ciudad de Huesos, was a death sentence for them all. Spreading the fingers of her right hand, she struck the mirror gently and instructed it to form a timeline. Once the wavery blue line stopped pulsing, she moved an angstrom closer to the present and tapped the glass.

  “Here,” she muttered. “Show me what’s right here.”

  Mist swirled in the glass, mingling blues and greens and violets. When it cleared, the same harbor view formed. This time it was all the Shifters—Ketha counted them again to be certain—and a group of Vamps, led as usual by Raphael. She reined in her antipathy for the Vampire. He was everything she hated about his race.

  Arrogant, cold, remote, callous.

  Worse, she couldn’t imagine him as a Shifter. He’d encourage his bond animal to destroy the world. What the fuck had those Shifters in Siberia been up to? Anything that would strengthen Vampires was madness.

  In her glass, Raphael halted abruptly and spun to face her. “I’ve thought about this, and it’s half-baked, ill-conceived. You’re as likely to blow the lot of us to Hell as you are to fix anything.”

  Ketha squared her spine. “What part about all of us dying didn’t sink in, Vampire?”

  He shrugged. “We can live on a lot less than you can.”

  “I don’t think so.” The Ketha in her glass spread her arms wide. “Look at yourselves. Whatever you’re feeding from has been drinking the water. It’s toxic. I sense your energies fading. You won’t die off tomorrow, but by this time next year, none of us will be here.”

  “Your opinion. Not mine. I’m done here.” Raphael snapped his fingers and took off at speeds only Vampires could manage, with his brood right behind him.

  “What now?” Aura met Ketha’s gaze.

  “I have no idea.”

  Ketha struck the glass again, resurrecting the timeline. Maybe one more slice of the future would give her something to work with. Imminent decay had dogged the Vamps in all her visions, so she moved slightly farther into the future, hoping for a point between the last image and the one where they’d been more agreeable. She needed grist for the mill, facts she could argue to move Raphael from no to yes.

  Mist formed a vortex, drawing her into it. Ketha immersed herself in the calming blues, greens, and lavenders, but the colors didn’t yield images.

  “Come on,” she urged. Had she blown through so much power she couldn’t support another summoning? Ketha didn’t think so. Magic thrummed hotly, filling her cells with nascent ability.

  A thread of black arrowed through her glass, followed by a phalanx of them until the mirror’s surface grew opaque.

  “That’s what Shifters do, I suppose.” A mocking voice intruded into her trance. “Practice worthless magic.”

  Ketha started and dropped the mirror, relieved it didn’t shatter on a stone. Power fled, leaving her empty and shaking. When it came to spells, abrupt closure never boded well for the user. She blinked hard to bring the world back into focus and pushed to her feet. As an afterthought, she nudged the glass into the corner she’d just vacated.

  Raphael’s energy settled over her in a choking miasma. She finally heard his heavy tread, and he came into view, striding toward her cell. He smelled of rot and dead things. Of blood. Of endings.

  “Didn’t lose any time settling in, I see.” His mouth parted in the falsest of smiles.

  “Should I have?” Ketha straightened her spine, still fuzzyheaded from all the magic that had coursed through her.

  Raphael turned his hands palms up. “I’d have liked it better if you’d been pacing or crying or clawing the walls. I’d also have preferred your manacles were still in place. I expected better from Viktor.”

  A snort blew past her lips, and she sobered up fast. “You like your victims hysterical, huh? Not to mention shackled. Means they’ll do whatever you want.”

  He was inside the cell so fast, she never saw him hit the touchpad or move the door. One moment he was outside the bars, the next he was right next to her, the smile nowhere in sight. “It’s not wise to bait me.”

  She angled her head to one side, standing her ground even though she wanted to cringe and back away. “You said something like that before. If you wanted to kill me, I’d already be on your day’s menu. You’re half-starved exactly like the rest of your Vampire horde. And I’m a rich source of food.”

  “I’m here,” the wolf breathed into her mind. “Clean water helped.”

  Ketha sent thanks winging inward and kept a watchful eye on the Vampire. If he’d heard her wolf, he didn’t give any indication.

  Raphael pushed past her and leaned against the wall catty-corner to the bench. He folded powerful arms over his broad chest and skewered her with his blue-gray gaze. “What did you mean about Vampires and Shifters working together to free ourselves?”

  Ketha cleared her mind of anything that might yield clues if he chose to delve into it. She was fairly certain Vamps could read thoughts, though it probably cost them. “Simple enough,” she retorted. “Vamps and Shifters casting a joint spell created the Cataclysm. Makes sense the same thing would reverse it.”

  He drew his brows into a disbelieving line. “Shifters and Vampires do not work together. On anything.”

  “Generally, I’d agree with you.” Ketha nodded, adopting what she hoped was an affable expression. “This was a secret group with a secret agenda, meeting in a remote Siberian location.”

  Raphael sent a condescending glance her way. “Whatever have you been smoking? Or did you Shifters manage to hang onto some liquor after all these years?”

  “Fine. Don’t believe me. I saw it in a vision.” Ketha moved her shoulders back, adopting an even straighter stance. “You walked in on me casting magic. I’m a seer. I can see both the past and the future, although the past is clearer because it’s already occurred.”

  “And the future?” Raphael quirked a dark brow.

  “I see different iterations.” Ketha capped it there. No point in explaining how she planned to manipulate those variations to achieve the result she wanted.

  “Excuse me if I’m having a hard time believing you.” He slouched against the wall, still eying her much like a large, lethal predator would have.

  “About what?”

  “Mostly about Shifters and Vampires working together. We never have, and we never will.”

  Ketha crossed her arms beneath her breasts, mirroring his posture, minus the slouch. “It surprised me to
o, but, as I said, my visions regarding the past have never been wrong, so this one isn’t, either.”

  “Maybe the magical shielding keeping us imprisoned here has affected your seer powers,” he suggested, emphasizing the word seer until it sounded dirty.

  She considered it and cursed her predisposition toward fairness. Better to tell him he was full of shit and be done with it. Damn the consequences. Instead, she muttered, “Possibly, but the magic felt pure to me when I cast it.” Ketha chewed on her lower lip. “The barrier has a perverse aspect. Its aberrant energy fills me whenever I’m outside and worsens the closer I get to it. I’d have noticed if it distorted my spell.”

  “I don’t sense that about the barrier at all.”

  “That’s because your power comes from evil.” Ketha kicked herself. No reason to antagonize him. “What I meant to say was—”

  He held up a hand. “You said exactly what you meant to, my dear. No matter how wicked you believe me to be, I appreciate honesty. And I recognize it when it rears its Goody Two-shoes head.”

  “Look.” Ketha tried a different tack. “Our magic is different.”

  “What you meant to say,” he cut in smoothly, “is Shifters wield magic, whereas Vampires deal in superhuman strength and speed. Because we’re at the top of the food chain, we don’t require your level of skill mucking around in arcane pursuits.”

  She chewed on her lip some more. No point in confirming his comment with an assent. Besides, the first part was right. “The reason you came to see me was to find out what I know about escape from our mutual predicament, right?”

  The corners of his mouth twitched into a grimace. “That, and I wanted to get a better feel for who you are.”

  She looked askance at him. “What’d you discover?”

  “You’re weak, like all your kind. Your spells are nothing but sleight of hand tricks.”

  “Malign me all you want. Will you take a chance on working with me and my Shifters so we can all escape this hellhole?”

  Raphael’s perfect features dissolved into uncontrolled laughter. When he’d stopped laughing, he asked, “What kind of fool do you take me for? I wasn’t born yesterday. Or the century before, for that fact. You expect me to put myself and my minions within spitting distance of one of your spells. How the hell do I know this isn’t some sort of trap, and you’ll harvest our magic to craft your own escape route, leaving us here to rot?”