by Meg Anne
Visions Of Death
The Gypsy’s Curse, book 1
Meg Anne
Jessica Wayne
You don’t find love, it finds you. It’s got a little bit to do with destiny, fate and what’s written in the stars.
-Anais Nin
Visions Of Death
Gypsy’s Curse, book 1
by Meg Anne & Jessica Wayne
Copyright © 2018. All rights reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-951738-96-9
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, businesses and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, or actual events is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Edited by Jessa Russo of Russo Editing
Proofread by Dominique Laura
Cover Design by AV Fantasy Book Cover Art & Design
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
From the authors
Meg’s Acknowledgments
Jessica’s Acknowledgments
About Meg Anne
Also By Meg Anne
About Jessica Wayne
Also By Jessica Wayne
Chapter 1
Skye
Skye was only seven years old the first time she killed someone.
Now, twenty years later, as she stood on the balcony of one of Chicago’s most prestigious art galleries, looking up at a sky full of brilliant white stars, each gory detail of that night was etched in the recesses of her mind, like a sinister snapshot she could never forget. And why would she forget?
It had been her mother’s life that was lost.
A life snuffed out because she didn’t know how to control the curse she’d inherited the day she was born. Skye made a mistake, one she wished she could say she’d never repeated, and the woman who’d given birth to her paid the ultimate price. When she’d predicted her mother’s death, she’d assumed it was nothing more than a nightmare. After all, what seven-year-old had that kind of power?
She hadn’t warned her mother, and just like in Skye’s premonition, Marie Giovanni had been killed during a mugging outside of the corner grocery store in broad daylight.
Skye closed her eyes and tilted her head to the sky, trying to bring the stars closer while pushing the ghosts of her past farther away. Thinking on it now would do no good; if there was anything she’d learned over the course of her lifetime, it was that you couldn’t change the past.
No matter how hard you tried.
The stars burned brightly enough to be seen even in the middle of the city, illuminating the dark night with their brilliant light. Skye shivered, the fine hairs on her arms standing at full attention. It’s just the chill in the air. As Skye wrapped her shawl more tightly around her body, she couldn’t ignore the growing feeling of unease.
“It’s cold out here,” a man said behind her, his deep voice ripping her from her thoughts. Skye spun around, her hand pressed against her chest as her heart thundered wildly. “What the f—”
The stranger spoke over her, his hands lifting as he took a hurried step back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
She looked up and down the stranger’s hard body, and couldn’t help but appreciate the way he filled out his dark suit. His jaw was strong but clean-shaven, and bright blue eyes shone out from beneath thick lashes.
“It’s alright.” She offered him a smile. “It’s no more than I deserve for getting so wrapped up in my own thoughts. A girl in Chicago should always know better than to lose track of her surroundings.” She turned back to look out at the skyline, thinking the conversation was over.
“It sure is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” he asked, joining her.
Skye’s muscles stiffened at the unwanted company. “It is,” she agreed, her voice curt. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy the new view, but the reason she’d come out here in the first place was to get away from other people for a while.
He placed his hands on the railing. “What are you doing out here? Trying to get away from the ‘art’ in there?” He raised his hands in air quotes.
Skye smiled. “Not your cup of tea?”
He snorted, his lips quirking in a smile. “Not at all.”
Curious, she turned her head up to look at him. “Then why come?”
“My sister is a big art fanatic. She loves the artist who did all this tonight, and since her divorce, I’m her plus one.”
“That’s sweet of you.” Skye eyed him with new interest. Kind and sexy? Now there was a potent combination. She turned to face him fully, suddenly more willing to spend some time with the intriguing stranger.
“She’s my sister.” He shrugged, as if everyone had that kind of familial loyalty.
Skye bit back a snort; she sure as shit did not. At least, not since her grandmother’s death.
“Hey, where’d you go?” he asked.
Skye gave him a bland smile. “Dark thoughts.”
“I can see that. Want to talk about it?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Spill my deepest secrets to a complete stranger? No thanks, I’ll pass.”
He chuckled. “Sometimes talking with a stranger is easier than chatting with a friend. Less history to get in the way of the words.”
Skye couldn’t disagree, although she was no more inclined to share her thoughts with him, no matter how charming he was.
“Is this the part where I’m allowed to ask your name? Or are you going to take off one of those stilts and try to stab me with it?”
Skye couldn’t contain her snort of laughter. “I’m sorry, my what?”
He gestured toward her six-inch heels. “Your skyscrapers.”
She glanced down at her feet, twisting one leg to provide a better view of her buttery black leather Steve Madden stilettos. Metal studs covered the back of each heel. Shoes were her one indulgence—the higher the better. At five-foot-two, Skye approved of anything to help bring her up past other people’s chins.
“I don’t know how the hell you walk in those things.”
Skye smiled coyly, narrowing her gaze. “Oh, very well, actually.” She turned slowly and began walking back toward the door of the gallery, exagger
ating the roll of her hips for his benefit. She paused at the door to glance back at him over her shoulder. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
Heat blazed in his eyes. “Yes, ma’am, I sure do.”
Skye’s mouth dropped open. After that performance, he called her ma’am? “Ma’am? Jesus,” Skye sputtered, spinning around to face him.
She could see by the tight line of his mouth that he was trying not to laugh at her. “Where I come from, ma’am is considered polite.”
Skye stalked back to him. “Yeah, if I was sixty. No twenty-seven-year-old woman wants to be called ma’am.”
She caught a hint of a dimple as he replied, “Fair enough. So, what should I call you, then?”
Skye hesitated. She’d dropped her guard, breaking one of her many rules. Strict rules.
Always keep it casual.
No last names.
No phone numbers.
No complications.
She couldn’t afford complications. People had a habit of getting hurt around her and emotional involvement only made things worse.
He searched her gaze with fierce blue eyes, then he held out a hand. “I’m Lucas. Lucas MacConnell.”
It felt like a challenge, the way his eyes bore into hers while his hand remained steadily outstretched between them. One thing Skye couldn’t resist was a challenge.
“Skylar,” she said finally, lifting her hand to place it in his much larger one. “But I go by Skye,” she quickly added.
“Skye,” he repeated, enunciating the word slowly so that she couldn’t help but watch the way his lips rolled around her name. Damn, he’s sexy. Skye blinked at the unwanted thought. Trouble. This man was certainly trouble. That meant it was time to go.
“Well, I should probably get back in there,” she said, forcing her focus from his mouth.
That dimple flashed again. He was totally on to her.
“I’d rather you stayed out here a while longer.”
For the first time in a long time, Skye wanted that too. But years of instinct were hard to ignore, so she stepped back anyway. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“Guess I’ll see you in there.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Not if I can help it.
A gust of wind sent her shawl slipping from her shoulders. Lucas’ hand was out in an instant, catching the soft material before it could fly away completely.
“Close one,” he murmured, stepping in to wrap it back around her shoulders. As he did, he let his fingers brush against the exposed skin of her arm. The gentle caress had Skye shivering for a whole new reason.
Her mouth went dry as he caught her eyes with his once more. She opened it to say something but stopped as the familiar tingle of a vision worked its way up her neck.
Skye thought she heard the word “Fuck,” but her eyes had already rolled back in her head and then there was only darkness.
Skye looked around, but she didn’t recognize the inside of the quaint diner. The color had drained from the world, letting her know this wasn’t reality—yet. Tables were situated in neat rows along the walls, and she continued searching for any clue as to where she was.
Lizzie’s Place was written in elegant scroll above the menu, and Skye watched as a young woman donning an apron stepped into the room. Her hair was pulled up into a tight bun, and she smiled as she went to work pulling baked goods from the glass cases on the counter.
The bell above the door rang and Skye turned to see who the new arrival was. A man stepped into the diner, and she struggled to make out his face. For the first time since she’d begun having visions, the details were blurry. Why couldn’t she see his face?
The woman greeted him with a warm smile. “I’m sorry, but we’re closed. We’ll open again at five tomorrow morning.”
The man didn’t speak. He stepped past Skye, and the chill that passed through her shook her to the core. It was as if the man knew she was there somehow, as if he sensed her and his subconscious was reaching out to hers with cool gripping fingers. That’s another first.
“I’m not here for the food,” he said calmly, stepping around the counter.
The woman reached for a knife and clutched it to her back. “Sir, you need to leave, now, or I’ll call the police.”
The man laughed. “I have nothing to fear from them. They are only men, and I am so much more than that.” He lashed out with his hand and knocked the woman to the ground.
“Stop!” Skye screamed, knowing they wouldn’t hear her. But they did, or at least he did. The man stopped his attack, leaving the woman trembling on the ground. He turned to Skye, his head cocked to the side, and the way he studied her made her feel as if she were an ant and he was holding the magnifying glass.
While she still couldn’t see his face, the intensity of his scrutiny made her stomach roll.
“Please don’t,” the woman begged, pulling his attention back to her.
“You know, I’ve been searching for you a long time.” He sneered as he raised his hand.
Skye closed her eyes and whimpered as the man slammed his hand down on the woman’s chest. The vision faded away, leaving Skye with a mixture of total helplessness and bone-chilling fear.
“Hey, you alright?”
She opened her eyes to find Lucas watching her with more than a little worry.
“I sent someone to call 9-1-1.”
“I’m fine. That happens occasionally.” She pushed past him and struggled to her feet. She wobbled, her six-inch heels feeling more precarious than they had only moments before. Skye’s hand shot out as she fought to keep her balance, her fingers colliding with a solid wall of muscle.
“Easy,” Lucas murmured, reaching out to help steady her, but Skye flinched away.
It would have been so easy to let herself curl into him and the promise of comfort in his eyes. As it was, she already knew he would be haunting her dreams, and she couldn’t afford wasting time thinking about him. Especially not now, when she knew that woman was going to die, and Lucas MacConnell was somehow associated with her. He wouldn’t have triggered her vision otherwise.
His eyes narrowed, not missing the way she dodged his touch. “You think passing out occasionally is normal?”
“Yup.” She moved farther away from him, her body already angled toward the doors. “Thank you, Lucas. It was nice to meet you.”
“Yeah, you too,” he responded softly, his brows low over his eyes.
Skye stepped back into the gallery and grabbed a flute of champagne off the nearest tray. After downing it in one drink, she replaced the glass and grabbed another. They didn’t make alcohol strong enough to wash away her visions, but she could still try.
“Skye, darling! I’ve been searching everywhere for you.” Maxwell Jaques breezed over to where she stood and wrapped his thick arm around her shoulders. “Where did you run off to?”
“I needed some air.”
“Well, after tonight, you can take all the air you want.” He leaned in, bringing his mouth to her ear. “My dear, you have sold every single painting.”
“Every painting?” she asked, her eyes widening with shock. She’d posted over three dozen new works for this event.
“Oh, yes, and you have a decent sized wait list for first dibs at your next lot.”
Her horror momentarily forgotten, Skye smiled and gave Maxwell a hug. He’d been her agent for the last two years, and he had helped her go from street corner artist to downtown gallery status nearly overnight.
“Thanks for everything, Maxwell.”
“Thank you, darling! My paycheck for this event is going to buy me some new shoes.”
“Same here.”
Maxwell stopped just before the stage and pushed her toward the steps. “They want a speech, honey, so give ‘em one.”
Skye made her way up onto the stage and did her best to push the lingering fear away. It would do her no good to dwell on her vision while art collectors still roamed the gallery.
“Hello, everyone, I am Skye Giovanni, the art
ist whose paintings you’ve been looking at for the last few hours.” She looked out over the impressive crowd, when her gaze caught a pair of bright blue eyes. Lucas was gaping at her with wide eyes as he shook his head in disbelief. She ignored the gentle tug in her belly and refocused on the crowd so she didn’t lose herself in his stare. “I cannot begin to tell you how incredibly amazed I am at the turnout tonight and the support from each and every one of you. Thank you all for coming. I hope to see you again soon.”
As the crowd cheered, raising their glasses to the star of tonight’s event, Skye smiled and left the stage, shaking hands with a few familiar faces on her way to the exit. Not looking back, Skye all but ran out of the building to her car. She couldn’t bump into Lucas again, not after what she’d seen. Who knew what role he was going to have in that mysterious woman’s death? His touch wouldn’t have triggered the vision if he wasn’t connected in some way.
Stay in your lane, Giovanni. Once she’d Seen a death, there was no changing the outcome; if she was lucky, she’d only succeed in delaying it for a while. Since she couldn’t do anything to prevent the inevitable, why bother intervening? Even so, something about this one had her reeling. The need to do something—anything—to help the victim was overwhelming, and Skye couldn’t help but wonder who the woman was, and if she’d be able to find her before she was killed.
