Mystic Realms: A Limited Edition Collection

by Nicole Morgan

  "Alright, alight." I threw up my hands as if coming to a new conclusion. "Maybe it's time for all of us to come clean. Don't you agree Ivan?" I signaled him to follow my cue.

  He gave a grudging nod.

  Axel and Nico eyed me warily.

  "Antjie asked for our help with her investigation." At their surprised expressions, I hurried on. "I probably should have mentioned that sooner, but she made us promised not to get anyone else involved. However, it's pretty clear that horse has already fled the barn—"

  "What do you know?" Nico interrupted tersely.

  Looked like he believed my story. Good. "We think Antjie uncovered something on Grace's deceased boyfriend. It led her to believe he's the one who tipped over the first domino — not her — starting the chain reaction of explosions and disappearances."

  Nico swirled his shot glass. "There's one problem with that theory. Grace is the only one connected to all the murders and kidnappings. Plus her father's been working undercover for years. God only knows what he might have gotten himself and his daughter mixed up in."

  "True, but she was the second domino to fall. The boyfriend was the first."

  Axel threw back his whiskey and slammed down his glass. "Can't argue with the timeline. Assuming you're right, what exactly did the boyfriend do to piss off the Russian mafia?"

  Nico rested his hands on the bar and leaned in from the opposite side. "It's his family's business. Think he fell out of favor?"

  Ivan steepled his fingers. "We're working on a theory." He shot a questioning glance at me.

  Sometimes the best option was telling the truth. I pretended to draw a heavy breath. "Based on our digging, we have reason to believe the boyfriend wanted out of the family business. That he had plans to go clean after he met Grace."

  "Except nobody gets to walk away from the mob," Ivan finished for me.

  Nico pursed his lips thoughtfully. "They do have a reputation, don't they?"

  I nodded. "Unfortunately. So in the spirit of full disclosure, we're not simply trying to get in touch with Antjie. We also came to warn you."

  "About . . ." Axel prodded. "Ah." I could tell when the truth dawned on him. "We're the next dominoes. Me, Nico . . ."

  "Ski and our parents, too," Axel added bleakly.

  "Bingo." Ivan made a shooting motion with his thumb and fingers.

  "Only if they think you know something." My words fell short of sounding reassuring even to my own ears.

  "Which we don't," Nico lamented bitterly. "Not near enough to die for."

  A silence ensued, during which we all drained our glasses. I flipped mine over. I was done drinking for the night. I needed a clear head to figure out our next move. "When was the last time you heard from your sister?"

  "About a day and a half ago." Axel pulled out his cell phone and scrolled through his text messages. "Here. She sent it right before her plane took off. Said she planned to check out a lead at UT when she arrived."

  I held up a finger. "That's where Grace planned to attend college. It's also where her last surviving relative works part-time. In the Admissions Office, I believe."

  Ivan and I exchanged a glance. "Meaning she decided to pay Grace's Aunt Jillian a visit," he declared.

  Axel's brows shot up. "Do you two always finish each other's sentences?"

  I shrugged. "You've heard the old saying about great minds. . ."

  Ivan and I agree to meet Antjie's brothers the next morning at a small pizzeria just outside the UT campus grounds to discuss the best way to approach Grace's aunt without alerting Anatoly to our presence. Nico was in favor of coming up with an official sounding reason for contacting her at home — cable repair or the like — so we could claim her undivided attention. Ivan and I argued it was too risky. Anatoly would have her place staked out, keeping an eye on everyone coming and going.

  Our debate was cut short, when Axel received a text in the wee hours of the morning. It was a ransom demand for $10,000.

  "It's a trap," I declared. "The amount they're asking for is insignificant. Trust me. Their only goal is to draw you out." I eyed Axel pointedly. "You and Nico. The next dominoes."

  His features were stretched tight with worry and exhaustion. "Assuming that's true, what do you suggest we do?"

  "Don't go," Ivan said bluntly.

  Nico's face flushed an apple-bobbing red. "You can't expect us to sit back and pretend our sister is already dead!"

  Most unfortunately, there was a good chance Antjie was indeed already dead, but I didn't want to squash her brother's thin sliver of hope. "Where do they want you to drop off the ransom money?" I asked in my best vampire soothing voice. I made sure he was looking at me when I spoke to him, so I could compel him to give me the complete details.

  It worked. Nico unclenched his fists. "James Avenue parking garage, top level, midnight."

  Ivan and I exchanged another glance. "We'll make the drop off," I offered.

  "Why you?" Axel asked curiously.

  "For one thing, Anatoly doesn't know about our involvement, which means we're not in the line of dominoes. Yet." That was far from true, but Axel didn't need to know that.

  "I'm not so sure I want to be cut out of the action." Nico's chin took on a stubborn set. "It's our sister's life on the line here. What happens when the kidnappers figure out her family isn't going to show?"

  I raised a finger. "In case we failed to mention it, this isn't our first undercover assignment."

  Axel scrubbed a hand over his unshaven face. "They've got a point, Nic. Much as I hate to be the one to hang back."

  Ivan turned to me. "Did you see his eye twitch?" It was his way of pointing out Axel was lying. The brothers had no intention of letting us handle the ransom drop.

  "Saw it," I confirmed.

  "Who cares if my brother's eye twitched?" Nico exploded in exasperation. "Can we get back on topic here?"

  "Nothing we'd like more." Ivan swooped in front of Axel, and I moved just as quickly to position myself in front of Nico. We compelled the two brothers to remain in the pizzeria together while we met with the kidnappers. We would report back to them with whatever we discovered concerning Antjie's whereabouts.

  Faster than can be detected by the human eye, Ivan and I returned to our previous positions at the bar.

  "So we're agreed?" I asked to verify the compulsions had worked.

  "Yup," Nico responded cheerfully. "You'll handle the drop, while we order a pizza." A frown passed over his features. "I'm not all that hungry, though."

  "Regardless, you're staying here," Ivan reminded firmly. "We're not handing you over that easily to the group who wants you dead."

  We waited until eleven o'clock to get moving. It allowed us to keep an eye on Antjie's brothers as long as possible while ensuring we had the full cover of darkness on our side when we exited the restaurant. We kept to the shadows and sprinted our way to the parking garage. When we arrived, we circled the structure to check for guards, cameras, and booby traps. Finding none, we took running leaps from opposite sides of the garage to propel ourselves three stories up to the top level.

  I picked up Antjie's scent before I saw her. She was locked in the trunk of a small compact silver vehicle. I sensed no other movement and no other creatures nearby, human or vampire, but I detected the faint countdown tick of a time bomb. The car was wired to explode, most likely at midnight when her brothers were supposed to arrive.

  "That was their plan," I grumbled. "Kill three birds with one stone."

  Ivan circled the car speculatively. "This isn't going to be easy."

  "Since when have we ever expected easy?" I tossed a grin in his direction. "You called flying the plane, so I call rescuing the girl. Back me up, in case I need it." I had no doubt it was going to need it, since there was a bomb involved.

  "Hold on there, cowboy—"

  "Quick snatch and grab," I assured. "Nothing to it." If we moved fast enough. . .

  Ivan's final protest was lost in the shrill creak of te
aring metal as I ripped open the locked trunk. The bomb detonated the same fraction of a second I reached for Antjie. She was unconscious with her arms bound behind her, one twisted at an odd angle. Despite my inhuman speed in grabbing her and whirling her away from the exploding vehicle, random jags of flying metal caught her broken arm below the left elbow as well as the left side of her face. Ivan leaped up to capture her severed arm as it rode the explosive plum of debris. I leaped after him over the side of the parking garage with the unconscious Antjie in my arms.

  Flecks of burning metal sliced and singed my shoulders and arms, making the back of my shirt flap with holes and tears like a cape on the way down. When our feet touched pavement, Ivan held up her forearm and a section of her lower jaw. Scrapes and blisters marred the left side of his face, but already the skin was regenerating and smoothing itself out.

  "To the airport!" I cried. Antjie could bleed out if we didn't act quickly. There was no time to meet with her brothers. We'd text or call them as soon as we could to fill them in on what had happened, but saving their sister was our top priority. Our only priority right now.

  Ivan and I ran like a blur all the way to the hangar where our jet awaited.

  We packed Antjie's arm and jaw on ice at the wet bar and lowered one of the passenger recliners to a flat position. We strapped her to our makeshift stretcher and tied a tourniquet above her elbow. We worked hastily to pack her face tightly in gauze like a mummy. Then we took turns donating blood to keep her alive as we prepared for takeoff.

  I glanced around the cabin after we stabilized our patient. It was a bloody disaster. Olga was going to have a fit when she saw what we'd done to her gift.

  Ivan climbed into the cockpit, while I remained at Antjie's side. He revved the engine and flicked at the controls. The plane gave a gentle lurch as he shifted into reverse, but a loud pounding on the door made him jam on the brakes. Both our heads swiveled in the direction of the sound.

  Ivan tilted up his nose and sniffed. "Smells like Axel and Nico." He threw a harried glance over his shoulder at me. I had an IV inserted in my arm, siphoning blood into Antjie's arm. "What do you want me to do?"

  "Let them in," I growled, grudgingly impressed with the fact they'd tracked us down. "They'll have to come with us, though. We're fighting time here."

  Ivan yanked open the door for them and stuck a thumb in my direction. "Get in," he ordered. "And no gun slinging or I swear I'll pitch you off this plane at cruising altitude."

  Axel ignored the threat and lunged into the cabin to kneel at his sister's side. "My, God! What happened to her?" Despite Ivan's warning, his and Nico's glowers indicated they were angry enough to kill.

  "She was strapped to a car bomb intended for the three of you," I informed them grimly.

  "Well, why isn't she at the hospital?" Axel exploded.

  "We're evacuating her to one." I nodded at the I.V. connecting my arm to hers. "I'm a doctor."

  "I thought you were a journalist!" He had to raise his voice to be heard over the engine's throttle as Ivan accelerated down the runway.

  I didn't have time to quibble over details. I was too busy monitoring his sister's vital signs — without the aid of most of the medical equipment I was accustomed to working with. According to my prognosis, she was hanging on but barely.

  Nico gripped the back of the recliner by the door with white knuckles during takeoff then moved across the cabin to crouch next to his brother. He touched Antjie's good arm. "Is she going to make it?" His voice shook with apprehension.

  "Yes!" I announced fiercely. I would to do whatever it took to make sure she lived. She was one of the last people who'd seen Grace alive. That made her the most important person on earth to me.

  We negotiated with air traffic control to take the shortest, fastest route to the island. Despite our efforts, it felt like the longest flight of my life.

  Ivan called ahead to Olga, and she met us on the landing strip with a transport van. Within a handful of minutes, we had Antjie inside the surgical center and on an operating table. Poor girl looked like a shattered doll. Up to this point, it had been all about keeping her alive. Now, it was about putting all the pieces back together while continuing our battle to keep her alive.

  Axel and Nico more or less followed us around like silent ghosts with pale, haunted expressions. Unfortunately, we had no time to play host to them.

  Olga threw a pair of hospital gowns and masks at them. "Glove up if you plan to stick around." She didn't look too happy about their presence on the island. Though she wisely kept her silence as we prepared for surgery, I had no doubt she would put Ivan and me through the full inquisition later.

  She and Ivan assisted me in surgery, since we hadn't yet begun hiring our medical staff. It ranked next on our to-do list, but it wasn't a simple matter of posting job openings to the general public. The plan was to hire a staff primarily composed of vampires, a task that required a much higher level of delicacy and discretion.

  We worked tirelessly through the first round of surgery. Even with the help of our superhuman speed and agility, it was more than seven hours before we dared to take our first break. The surgery felt like volleying a dozen different tennis balls flying into my court at maximum speed off the rackets of the world's top players. Fortunately, I had fifty years of surgical experience, the best equipment on the market, two very trustworthy vampires at my side, and an unlimited supply of vampire blood.

  I reattached Antjie's arm first. It was far from a clean amputate, which added infinite layers of complication to the procedure. At times, it felt like we were piecing together the tiniest particles from a paper shredder. In my professional opinion, most surgeons in the world would have simply used the salvaged tissue to patch the stump and thereby prevent any further shortening of it. Fortunately for the unconscious young woman lying on the table before us, my skills were far superior to them and the healing agents in my blood were powerful. Not to mention she was my wife's best friend which pushed the needle on my motivation meter to the highest setting. My goal was to make her whole again — to restore the full use of her arm, no matter how many procedures it took. Later, I would add the finishing cosmetic touches so no one would ever be able to guess her arm had once been severed.

  Once the bone, sinew, and upper dermis of Antjie's arm were reattached and the blood flow restored to them, I moved on to the task of reattaching her lower jaw. It proved an even more delicate process. It took several procedures over several days to fully reconstruct her face. She would still require an uncertain number of shock treatments and therapy sessions to revive the damaged nerves. She would also require additional cosmetic procedures to make her look as good as new, but those things could wait until she awakened from her coma.

  Short of turning Antjie into a vampire — an option not currently under discussion — there was nothing more we could do but wait for her to wake up.

  For now, I had done all I could for her. I peeled off my gloves, knowing it was the best work of my career yet.

  Axel, who had doggedly remained in the operating room during every one of his sister's surgeries, came to stand next to me.

  "She's a fighter," he said hoarsely, scanning her limp, motionless frame with hopeful eyes.

  I nodded soberly at him, hoping with all my might her fragile human body was strong enough to fight the rest of its way to a full recovery.

  Grace

  Outskirts of Atlanta, Georgia

  “Welcome to Hillcrest, Gracie.” Bax nosed our rented SUV into the apartment complex he’d rented via long distance. We both eyed our surroundings critically. It was a small, gated community with a cluster of three story buildings on a long U-shaped street.

  It didn't look much different than the post housing we'd lived in over the years — a mix of siding and brick, beige and white paint, and narrow balconies that would hold about two wicker chairs and nothing else. According to the brochure I'd scanned on the drive here from the grief counseling center, the Hillcres
t Community housed a collection of one, two, and three bedroom apartments.

  "I still don't understand why we're not in Texas staying with Aunt Jillian," I groused for the thousandth time. It would have allowed me to attend UT in person instead of signing up for online classes this summer.

  "Yes, you do," Bax snapped. "You just don't like what you're hearing. You're a target right now. By lying low until the Romolov investigation dies down, you're keeping both you and your aunt safer."

  Hating that he was right, I continued to fume in the car while he entered the front office building to collect our keys and sign some final paperwork. I tugged at my seatbelt. It felt so tight it was making me sick to my stomach. Was this what it felt like to be pregnant and hormonal? All edgy and emotional and unreasonable? If that was the case, I could add yet another line item to the growing list of things I hated — myself.

  Bax returned in less than ten minutes.

  "I got us a three-bedroom place. You can have the spare room to set up your nursery." He handed me a copy of the apartment key without quite meeting my eyes and slid behind the steering wheel to drive us the rest of the way there. I stared in resentment at his side profile. We'd made very little eye contact since he found out I was carrying his grandchild.

  I gripped the warm metal key in silence. It was difficult to carry on a conversation with a man who was clearly mortified to find himself the father of a pregnant, unwed daughter. Bax was a proud, ambitious, and driven man. I'm pretty sure I no longer fit the image of the life he wanted for us.

  We'd never been close, so the new distance between us shouldn't have bothered me to such a drastic extent. But it did. It bothered me on principle, because as far as I could tell, not once had my father considered the notion there could be more to my story than an unplanned pregnancy.

  He was the one who'd taught me to be strong and independent, to think for myself, to use my best judgment then stand by my decisions. My entire life he'd demanded blind trust from me for his own actions and decisions, and I'd given it to him each and every time he'd dashed in and out of my life with little or no explanation about where he'd been or where he was going next. The fact that he couldn't give me even an ounce of the same trust and respect without jumping to the worst possible conclusions was infuriating.