by Cecy Robson
It doesn’t mean anything. Not to Uri. Whatever fondness he has is always fleeting. They’ll bore him soon enough and he’ll move on to the next few men who peak his interest, not caring about the broken hearts he leaves behind.
For now though, they’re with him, and whether he’ll ever admit it, he needs them. He’s trembling horribly, and close to seizing. Whatever spell was cast continues to burn its way through the tissue, causing him pain he otherwise would not openly show. Pain, hell, any display of vulnerability in the presence of other preternaturals will get you killed by the one waiting to take your spot.
My gaze skitters around the room and to the other vamps loitering nearby. Like Uri and Misha, they’ll always be young and beautiful, the turning process gifting them with immortality and eternal beauty for the simple price of your soul. None are masters. The few who were met their demise years ago, leaving Misha to command the entire west coast, a position he won’t abandon without a fight.
Gemini leans into me, his warm breath teasing my skin. “Don’t get involved,” he warns, his lips skimming along my ear as he whispers. “Not our pack, not our fight.”
I nod. Like me, he senses the vampires’ restlessness. Newly turned vamps or those new to a keep are like ravenous hyenas. They’ll attack those they perceive as weak, their primal and predatory instincts often overriding their common sense. Magic eating holes into his face or not, Uri is deadly.
And so is Misha who stands directly beside him.
Ire claims Misha’s stance like armor. It’s so severe, even his most trusted vampires are afraid to draw near. His long blond mane is pulled back in a silver clip. It’s his “battle hair”. He’s ready to destroy anyone who threatens his master.
Celia has often questioned Misha on whether the loyalty he demonstrates to Uri is extended back to him. Misha has never responded either way, not because he doesn’t know, but because I think he does.
“If Misha is ever going to take Uri out, this is his moment,” I murmur, knowing Gemini can hear me.
Misha’s head swivels in my direction, his narrowing eyes alerting me that he heard me loud and clear. Damn these vamps and their super senses. “I’m only saying what everyone else is thinking,” I reply in that same hushed tone.
“He won’t. Not now,” Gemini responds, well aware Misha can hear him and not giving a rat’s ass. “He’ll wait for the right time.”
My comment annoyed Misha, but all Gemini’s words do is trigger that wicked smile Misha is known for. I’m not sure why Misha smiles then. It could be good. It could be sucky. Either way I’m not returning it. I may be his merc for hire. That doesn’t mean I’ll jump aboard the Misha death train should it decide to run off the tracks.
Destiny who has been unnervingly quiet, and a little too smiley, adjusts her cowboy hat just right. The whacky feathers poised on top release a snowfall of black, white, and hot pink plumage. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” she asks.
I don’t have to guess she’s looking at Genevieve, the head witch. When I first met Genevieve, I mistook her for a vamp because she’s seriously that good looking. Her long dark hair is gathered in a bun that’s supposed to look like she pulled it up in a haste, yet somehow adds another air of elegance to her already spellbinding appearance.
The loose strands that escape Genevieve’s bejeweled hair pin fall along her sapphire eyes and porcelain skin, skimming her cheeks as she treats Uri’s wounds.
“Oh, but you’re pretty, too,” Destiny adds, giving me a playful nudge. “A real looker.”
“Ah, thanks, there, Des. You . . .” I give her the onceover, trying to think of something nice to say. “You have a nice smile.”
“Super thanks.” She cups her hand, pretending to whisper. “But betcha it’s not as nice as Genevieve’s.”
I’m sure nothing is, given her awe.
Genevieve scrutinizes Uri’s face, her yellow amulet streaming rays of bright sunlight as she fills Uri’s wounds with what resembles spackle. She mumbles a chant, her lips soft as she moves them, but her magic forceful, driving the curse that struck him out of his system.
As her light withdraws so does his trembling. All at once he slumps forward, his boyfriends barely catching him in time.
Misha doesn’t move, keeping his arms crossed and watching Uri closely as Genevieve withdraws.
I straighten. “Is now the right time?” I whisper to Gemini, noting that in spite of his stance, Misha is geared to attack.
Gemini doesn’t respond with words. He clasps my elbow and Emme’s leading us away.
I don’t think I manage to fully shift my weight when the first of several vampires attack. Misha snatches two up by the throat, his movements too quick to register.
With a simple squeeze, and a hiss that chills me down to my soul, he caves their larynxes inward. Ash drifts out in a haze, coating the air with murder just as something flies over my head.
Like a bowling ball being thrown against granite, a head strikes the opposite wall, cracking the skull and caving it inward.
Emme rams into me as she leaps away from a decapitated torso, flipping like a fish out of water toward us.
“What was that?” I say, watching the torso flop past us.
“A torso,” my beloved replies.
I let out what I hope is an easy breath. It’s not. Seriously, what the hell?
“I mean what happened?” I ask instead.
The torso explodes in a billow of ash. “Misha willed his leeches to die,” Gemini explains.
Emme and I exchange glances. “He can do that?” I ask.
“Being their master and given his power, yes,” he says, his dark expression split between disappointment and relief.
“And what about that?” I ask, pointing to whatever is crawling away from the corner. A werewolf munching on what looks like a chicken wing steps over it. He doesn’t care. It’s vamp bits.
“Arm,” Gemini answers. “She was torn into five pieces.”
“By Misha?” I ask, wondering how exactly he managed to pull that decapitated rabbit out of the hat.
“No,” Gemini says, his unease evident as he turns toward Destiny.
She keeps her smile. “It’s not nice to attack those who are weak. Don’t you think?”
I try to nod and fail. The best I can do is not put more distance between us.
The pull of Genevieve’s mojo has me turning toward her. She’s looking at the vamp standing in front of her. The vamp isn’t moving, only because Genevieve isn’t letting him. He falls apart. Literally, his petrified body parts splintering down the middle and crumbling as they strike the wood floor.
I don’t think this vamp went after Uri. He went after Genevieve believing she was distracted. His mistake. Genevieve doesn’t miss a thing.
“Thank you,” Uri mumbles, his speech slurred.
I think he’s talking to Misha, who he often refers to as “his son”, or maybe Destiny who could be some freak second cousin twice removed for all I know. But they only killed a few vampires. Genevieve healed him.
She quietly observed the violent exchange between the vampires, failing to respond until she was imperiled. As much as she willingly cured Uri and lifted the curse bestowed upon him, I don’t think Genevieve would have shed a tear had the opposing vampires succeeded in killing him.
She passes the wooden bowl filled with the goo she used to treat his wounds to one of her “sisters” and irritably wipes her hands with a towel another offers. Her coven responded to the threat upon their leader, they just weren’t as fast or ruthless as Genevieve. “Don’t thank me, Uri,” she answers him flatly. “Just do the right thing.”
She walks away in a huff, briefly acknowledging us with a tilt of her head. “Gemini, Sister Taran.”
“Hey, Vieve,” I answer, my tone grave given the carnage.
Gemini acts as if he doesn’t see her, his spine stiffening as Aric stalks forward with his arm around Celia. He’s wearing a black T-shirt and jeans. My sister is in a
navy maxi dress. I think she chose it for the dark color and how the dress falls loosely at her sides, camouflaging her pregnancy. She dresses like that a lot. I think it’s her way of shielding her child. But the way the soft material gathers around her belly, there’s no hiding the little one growing inside her.
Misha looks up as they pass, ignoring the vampires brushing the ash from his Armani suit. Celia shakes her head, letting him know she can’t talk right now and warning him to keep his distance from Aric.
Everyone is on edge.
Except for Destiny who beams at Celia’s approach.
“Hey,” she says when only mere feet remain between us. “I told Taran the great news.”
“And I told her she must be mistaken,” I sing.
Aric and Celia only tense further.
“No . . .” I say when they reach me.
“Taran,” Celia begins.
“No, way,” I insist, my attention lobbying between she and Gemini. Emme steps aside, giving us room, but also trying to keep the focus off her and her disheveled state. I get it. Everyone’s upset enough. But if Celia is trying to apologize, apology not accepted because what the hell? “I’m supposed to be protecting you,” I remind her.
“She’s not doing this,” Gemini says, his comment spilling over mine.
Aric tightens his jaw. “It can’t be helped. Not with everything that’s happening.”
“Destiny is not pack,” Gemini says. “Nor is she were.”
Destiny takes this moment to fluff her feathers. Well, why not?
“That doesn’t make her less valuable,” Aric says, his attention flickering to Celia.
I pace in circles, muttering a few curses before whipping back and ramming my hands on my hips. “You think she’ll protect Celia if we need her to?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Destiny asks, appearing confused. She motions to Celia’s. “Those babies are coming, it’s just a matter of time.” She smiles softly. “They have to, the world won’t survive without them.”
When it comes to a baby being born, everyone should be all a flutter, expecting only the good things babies bring: cuddles and kisses, intermixed with promises for the future. But this child is different, burdened with a destiny he doesn’t yet know.
The heavy task my sister’s child will bear quiets us all, surging our fear, but also feeding our hope. This baby is special, and so are his siblings, they have to be if evil itself doesn’t want them born.
The silence lasts only briefly. There’s too much to say and more to do. “We can’t count on the vampires,” Aric tells us.
“No shit,” Gemini snaps, his anger altering his generally calm disposition into something fierce.
“Watch it,” Aric warns. “I’m not happy about this either.”
“Then why allow it?” Gemini fires back. “If this was Celia, you wouldn’t have it.”
“Not wanting it and being able to stop it are two different things. Neither matter because bottom line, we don’t have a choice,” Aric counters, his light brown irises flashing with resentment. “From now on, all the wolves from the Squaw Valley Den Pack are assigned to Celia. Genevieve’s Coven and the Coven of Versailles will be protected and watched by the Chinese Imperials.”
“Who are the Imperials?” Emme asks.
She blushes, embarrassed about interrupting, but recognizing the severity of the situation.
“The Chinese Imperial Coven,” I answer, glimpsing at how Gemini’s focus doesn’t waver from Aric. “They’re masters of magic and practitioners of sacred and mystical martial arts.”
“Mystical martial arts?” she questions.
“Yes. Kind of like the Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon version of the broom humpers,” I explain.
A passing witch glares my way. “I’m sorry,” I offer. “But that’s the best way to describe them.”
“They’re recluse and secretive,” Aric elaborates. “For the most part, they keep their distance from other witch clans, presenting themselves only during times of unrest or when they feel they’re most needed.”
“They were the ones entrusted with securing Asia during the last war,” Gemini adds.
Emme tilts her head gingerly. “If they can secure an entire continent, why aren’t they watching Celia?” she asks carefully.
“Because physical prowess and magic aside, they’re not weres,” Aric replies.
In other words, he doesn’t fully trust them to watch our girl.
Gemini’s frown burrows deep. “Are the Imperials coming here? Or are we seeing both covens to China?”
Aric rubs the scruff of his five o’clock shadow. “The Imperials are en route and should arrive by morning to escort the covens to a secret location in Europe. We won’t know where they are, but both Ines, the Head Witch to the Coven of Versailles, and Genevieve have sworn a blood oath to return should we call them.” He makes a face. “The vampires are the only ones unwilling to lend us their full support. Uri and Ileana Vodianova have acquired protection of their own and are fleeing somewhere across globe. The remaining American masters, in addition to those in Canada, and Central and South America have already disappeared. Misha is the only one who agreed to stay and offered his help should we need him.”
No wonder Genevieve was so angry. Instead of forming a united front, the vamps have once more chosen to save their own billion dollar backsides.
Except for Misha, who will never abandon Celia . . .
Chapter Seven
“The only one unaccounted for is Destiny,” Aric says, turning in her direction. “Someone has to watch her, given her position and title. Tye offered, but as son to our president, he’s under guard as well.”
“I don’t want Taran assigned to anyone,” Gemini interrupts. “I want her watched by me.”
Celia leans closer to Aric. I mirror her motions, taking Gemini’s hand and keeping my body close. More times than not, she’s managed to soothe Aric’s wolf this way. And while I’m not normally so intimate in public, I think it’s time I start given the circumstances.
Aric’s voice is harsh and leaving absolutely no room for argument. “Based on Taran’s position as an Alliance member, her resourcefulness, and her skills, she was chosen to guard.” Gemini starts to argue. “It’s either Destiny or Misha. Those are our only choices seeing that he is the only vampire who has agreed to stay.”
So it’s between a freaky zebra striped wall or a hard place with fangs. Nice.
I don’t like this. But as bothered as I am, I’m counting on Misha to protect Celia at all costs. He owes her as much. I’m also counting on Destiny’s sense of loyalty. She tore into the vamp who attacked Uri for “not being nice”. If I protect her, I’ll earn her loyalty, increasing the chances for Celia’s survival and that of her babies.
That said, damn, this is a pussy assignment. No way in hell is anyone going to go after Destiny.
She loses a little more plumage from her cowboy hat when she jogs awkwardly in place. “Sorry,” she says. “New boots and I have to break them in. Otherwise, I’m going to look funny walking in them.”
“Yeah, we wouldn’t want that,” I agree.
Aric starts to speak, stopping suddenly when Destiny switches to jumping jacks. “The guy at the boot shop told me this helps, too,” she adds when we all gape.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. Yeah, no one’s going after this little dickens.
“This is the best I can do,” Aric tells Gemini.
Gemini digs his fingers through his hair and steps away. He’s not quite on board. But I am. I have to be.
Destiny does a little shimmy and some odd movement with her hand, similar to what I do when I have an itch on my back and can’t quite reach it. “Babe,” I say, edging toward him.
He meets my face when I embrace his waist. It’s the first time today that I’ve had the chance to hold him close. He realizes as much, dropping his arms to circle my back. “I don’t like this,” he says, his thumbs brushing over my hips.
“I
don’t either. But Destiny needs us, and we need her to help keep Celia safe.” I reach up to stroke the smooth hair of his goatee. “She’s not an easy target and she’s a friend.” He looks at me. “Okay, ally,” I clarify.
I peer around his large body to see what sort of boot-breaking-in-calisthenics she’s doing now. She stops in the middle of her toe-touches and offers me another enthusiastic wave.
My lips stretch into a smile and I wave back. This time, my smile isn’t forced. For all Destiny makes me nervous, and despite that I’ve often questioned her stability, she’s not mean. Another dismembered arm crawls away from its hiding spot under a nearby table. I crinkle my nose. Well, that is if you don’t piss her off.
“I can keep her safe, and me as well,” I assure Gemini, cringing as Misha’s vamps swarm the remaining body parts and tear into them like piranhas. “You know I can,” I offer, startling when I hear a wet crunch.
“It’s not that I don’t trust your strength, I just don’t trust what’s happening,” he tells me.
“I know,” I say, lifting up on my toes to kiss him. My lips meet his only briefly. He’s conceding for the moment, but he’s not happy about it.
He releases me slowly, turning back to our small group. Aric nods, but that’s all. I know he’s grateful for my help, yet out of respect for Gemini, he’d prefer not to involve me.
He kisses Celia’s cheek, whispering something I don’t quite catch. “Don’t worry, love,” she says. “Just do what you have to and I’ll see you tonight.”
She steps carefully away and toward Emme, except like always, Aric doesn’t appear to want to let her go.
“Emme,” she tells her when his hands finally pull away. “Why don’t we go back to Aric’s chambers? You can shower there and change out of these clothes.”
“I’d like that,” she says.
We grimace when she has to peel her sticky feet free from the floor. As she walks, her tiny flats make an odd squeaky noise. Christ, we didn’t clean her feet and she likely has vamp parts stuck between her toes. I’ll be sure to set her shoes on fire, too. What can I say, I’m a hell of a gal.
