Not everyone looked convinced after my statement. Even Hamilton appeared doubtful. “How did you come to that conclusion?” he asked.
“Before she was executed, Carmen screamed at someone in the crowd. When I looked in that direction, Kristina Cha was the person in direct line of sight.”
“Yes,” said the head priest. “I noticed that, too.”
“Kristina helped Morgan impregnate Carmen with a ghost. Carmen knew Kristina was aware of the entity inside her. She begged Cha to tell the crowd so she wouldn’t be executed with the Apollo Ring.
“Standing next to Kristina was Natasha—and Natasha also saw who Carmen yelled at. Later, at Bar Sinister, I saw Natasha and Kristina together. My guess is that Natasha asked Kristina about the incident. When Kristina’s answer didn’t sound right, Natasha may have been suspicious. Kristina must have invited Natasha to her place, and Morgan used a ghost to burn Natasha to dust. Since the Russian girl was here in LA alone, and shared a physical resemblance with Cha, she was the perfect victim.”
Throughout this explanation, I kept an eye on Natasha/Kristina. Although she looked around and took her hands off her hips to cross her arms over her chest, she didn’t move from where she stood.
“Kristina impersonated her?” Marcus asked.
“Yes. Kristina knew Natasha was here alone, and that there was no one who expected to spend time with her. As Natasha, she could remain at a distance from everyone without bringing any suspicion on herself for doing so. She was the perfect inside agent for Morgan.
Due to her physical resemblance to Natasha, Kristina merely had to assume a disguise. When Hamilton and I searched Kristina’s house, we found pink hair coloring and bright red lipstick in the bathroom.”
“That’s right,” Hamilton said.
Everyone stared at Natasha and her pink coif.
“The final bit of evidence is the ring,” I said.
“The Apollo Ring?” the head priest asked.
“No. A ring with a trident inside three circles. Morgan gave it to Kristina.”
“We didn’t find a ring at the Cha murder scene,” Hamilton commented.
“That’s because Kristina couldn’t bear to leave it behind.”
“How do you know Kristina had such a ring?” Marcus asked.
“Because I saw it on her hand at Bar Sinister the night Aliena was implanted with a ghost.”
Natasha glared in my direction. “You can’t prove anything you’ve said.”
“Of course I can. I know Aliena was poisoned at Bar Sinister two nights ago,” I continued. “How was that accomplished? If Morgan wasn’t carrying the Ghost inside herself, then where was it? Only an immortal body can withstand the strain of inhabitation over a long period. That meant an accomplice who was a vampire.”
“Kristina?” Rachella asked.
“Yes. She’s wearing the Atlantean ring right now.”
Kristina kept her arms crossed over her chest so the ring was hidden behind her forearm. I knew I had now presented enough evidence to make the vampires act against her.
“I know if you look closely, you will be able to perceive the real girl under the makeup.”
As four vampires began to move toward her, Natasha/Kristina slid backward. In a flash, the other vampires had her by the arms. They dragged her to Marcus. He peered at her closely.
“He’s right,” he said. He rubbed the bright red lipstick off, put his hands over her hair.
“It is Kristina,” Rachella said.
“And there’s the ring,” I said, pointing.
Kristina tried furiously to break away from the men holding her.
“Why?” Marcus asked her.
She remained silent.
“Well?” Marcus directed this question at the assemblage, finishing with his gaze on the head priest.
A slight cough came from within the red hood. “If Mr. Montero will oblige us,” the monk whispered.
“A pleasure,” I said. I pulled out the gold case and slipped the ring on my finger, hissing at the burn and cursing with the pain. Everyone waited until the ring cooled.
Kristina’s lips peeled back from half-morphed fangs, her bulging gaze shifting from my face to the gleaming gold on my hand.
“You can’t do this!” She again struggled against her captors. “Please! Oh please, please don’t do this, please,” she said in a different voice. She gave the crowd a ghastly, trembling smile. “I’m one of you. I’m sorry I made a mistake but can’t you punish me another way?” When no one answered, she gave a cry of desperate terror. “No! NO! YOU CAN’T! OH PLEASE GOD DON’T LET THEM DO THIS, PLEASE YOU DON’T HAVE TO DO THIS!”
Stone faces surveyed the Chinese beauty as she struggled for control.
“Just let me go back to Atlantis,” she begged. “You can banish me!”
“Didn’t you know?” I said, relishing the revelation. “When the machine was destroyed, the interdimensional highway closed. It will be centuries before it’s opened again.”
“No,” she whispered.
“Put her in,” the head priest said.
“NO!” Kristina screamed. “Mr. Montero—Sebastian, please. Aliena will be all right now. You don’t need to kill me.”
“You and Morgan didn’t care about Aliena or my love for her. Your plan was to let her die, consumed in fire by a Ghost of Atlantis.”
“Please, oh God, please! You can be merciful!” She continued babbling in terror as the men forced her into the burned-out case.
“It’s not up to him,” Marcus told her. “You’ve killed our people. You betrayed us.”
The four vampires sealed Kristina inside the killing cabinet. The golden hoops, shimmering with heat, began to rise.
“NO!” Kristina shook her head wildly, spraying blood tears. “PLEASE DON’T KILL ME THIS WAY! SEBASTIAN! YOU CAN BE MERCIF—” Her eyes jerked down as the last hoop rose above her chin. Her piteous scream of despair made several people jump.
The hiss of white-hot metal against soft flesh silenced Kristina. As before, many of the watchers made small sounds of pity as the agony bulged Kristina’s eyes and the bottom half of her long dyed-pink hair dropped to the ground.
Not me. I stood before the casket, remembering Aliena’s terror and my fear of losing her, remembering the hideous prospect of spending the rest of my existence without her. I remembered the look of triumph on Cha’s face at Bar Sinister when she knew Aliena had been implanted with a Ghost of Atlantis. I ran a fingertip over the scar on my brow before touching the blue-white stone to my lips. The low thrum of the Apollo Ring’s terrible power vibrated the walls of 49.
I ignored the flare of pain that spread through my frame. Turned sideways to the cabinet, I held my arm out like a duelist ready to fire, and pointed the humming diamond at Kristina, aiming for the heart-shaped opening. The crowd moved behind me.
“Oculus Autem Apollon.”
Chapter 70
Sunday, February 15, 2:12 a.m.
After thanking me for my service as an acolyte, the head priest took the Apollo Ring and left with it and the killing cabinet. Of the eight men who protected the ring, he was the only one remaining—and according to Darius, was in terrible pain from his many decades of contact with the radioactive bauble.
With Kristina’s execution behind us, Marcus nodded at the crowd and everyone broke into small groups. Hamilton came to my side.
“That Kristina killing was bad,” he said.
“She deserved it.”
“Yes, I know.”
A group of three men walked up to us.
“We just wanted to let you know we’ll stay hidden,” one of them said to Hamilton.
We waited. When it was obvious Hamilton didn’t understand, the man added, “From your sight, sir. You’ll never see us.”
“Right,” Hamilton said, still confused. “Well, I never did before, did I?”
“No.” He gave us a polite nod and he and his friends left the building.
“What’s this
‘sir’ shit?” Hamilton asked.
“You’re a vampire celebrity in Los Angeles.”
“What did he mean by staying out of sight?”
“I think those three are your bodyguards now,” I told him. “Marcus told me earlier he wanted you looked after.”
“That’s what he meant? Are you kidding me?”
“No. No matter where you go, you’re untouchable.”
“Hm. You have anything to do with that?”
“Me?”
“That’s what I thought.”
The man was a detective.
Many of the vampires had left by now. Rachella said goodnight after giving Hamilton a kiss on the cheek. He watched her walk to the exit
“Disappointed?” I asked.
“Hell yes. I was hoping . . .”
“She likes you a great deal. Just give it time.”
“She told you that?”
“She did.”
A cluster of five women walked past, staring at Hamilton. He stared back.
“If I saw those girls in a club, I’d never know,” he said as the girls wagged fingers at him. “Hey, Sebastian, do they—” He broke off, lowered his voice. “Is sex with a vampire the same as with a woman?”
“In all the important ways, yes.” I chose not to tell him a vampire’s hearing was so sensitive, whispering would not stop the five girls from listening to his every word. I decided to make it worth their while. “I suppose you’d like to take on all five of them at the same time?” I whispered.
He gazed at the females as every caveman before him had done. “Look at those mamacitas,” he said, awe in his voice. “Christ, Sebastian, wouldn’t you want to at least try?”
Two of the girls wore San Diego Chargers cheerleader outfits. No, not wore, I saw. Both uniforms were painted on. Only the tall white boots were real.
“You wouldn’t feel in danger?” I asked. “Taking five vampires to bed?” The girls had stopped, pretending to straighten their clothes.
Hamilton had ceased blinking. “Man, there are things worth danger to life and limb.” One of the girls bent as lithely as a ballerina to re-tie her spiked granny boots. The movement pulled the hem of her gray miniskirt to the level of her hips, exposing her bright pink thong. “And that’s one of them, right there,” he said in a voice laced with Neanderthal.
“One?” said the girl in the gray skirt as she straightened up. “You said all five of us.” The two cheerleaders frowned at him, hands on hips.
Hamilton jumped as if goosed. “I said…?”
The pack—I mean group—of women sashayed over, surrounded Hamilton.
“You said you wanted all five of us, and that you wouldn’t feel in danger,” pouted the girl in gray. She looked down and tugged her skirt into place. Hamilton watched her do it. Then she linked her arm in his, and pressed near. “Now you don’t want all of us?”
“Well,” Hamilton stammered, as the two cheerleaders pressed in from the other side, “I never said that. Didn’t you know? It’s against my religion to make love to less than five women at a time.”
I didn’t say anything to that.
A redhead standing behind him pressed her nose to the back of his neck. “Oooo, you smell so delicious.”
The others made groaning sounds. All of them put a hand on the detective. The closest cheerleader pushed her naked breasts into his arm. Hamilton’s gaze fixed on them momentarily.
“Take us home,” said the girl in the gray skirt, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “You’ll need a couple of hours to take care of us all.”
“More than a couple,” he told her. “Um, I didn’t drive here.”
“No driving, silly,” said the bosomy cheerleader. “You can ride me. All the way to your place.”
“He’s riding me,” said the girl in the gray skirt.
They began leading Hamilton toward the door, arguing over which of them would serve as his taxi.
Watching them go, I made a mental note to stop by the detective’s apartment in the morning to inspect the debris.
Chapter 71
Sunday, February 15, 2:34 a.m.
I bid Marcus good evening.
“Good luck with Aliena,” he said. “You will let me know?”
“I will.”
I drove home, wondering if Aliena had woken up while I was gone, and whether she remembered me as her fiancé. I piloted the Italia through heavy traffic without being aware of the other vehicles.
Upon arriving home, I headed immediately to the guest bedroom.
She still slept.
I undressed, pulled back the covers and slid in next to her. Feeling truly weary, I put my arm across her stomach and drifted. As I relaxed, a strange vision played out in my surfeited mind.
Sparkling blue water filled the horizon, familiar as home should be, for I was in Tarragona, sitting astride Perseus, watching the sun settle into the Caribbean. Karina and I held hands. Andromeda, her mount, pawed the shallow surf.
Slowly, my calm drifted away, leaving in its place an uneasy embarrassment at what Karina might say about my love for Aliena.
She turned to me. She looked as she had during the early years of our marriage, when all the children were old enough to ride and her youthful good looks had blossomed into elegant beauty. I expected her expression to be wounded at my betrayal. But she was smiling the soft smile I recognized, bringing with it fierce memories of my first family, echoing with the sweet pang of love, joy, and loss.
“You look as handsome as ever,” she said.
I squeezed her hand. “Kari, you’re still the most beautiful woman I have ever known.”
“Now, dear, it’s bad form to lie to your wife after she’s gone,” she admonished, still smiling. “Aliena is a lovely girl.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“No. Don’t be sorry, darling.” She ran her finger along my scarred eyebrow. “You have been alone for such a long time. I never wanted you to be lonely, my love. You gave me all of you while I lived, loved and protected me, and gave me the most wonderful family a mother could wish for.” She raised my hand to her lips.
Tears stung my eyes, a hot ache of sweet nostalgia possessing me. Karina’s serenity had strengthened my first family home, made it a peaceful haven for our children. And for us. Until now, I hadn’t thought about how happy I had been, how certain I had been—for the first time in my life—that I was where the universe wanted me to be. “Darling, darling Karina, how I have missed you.”
“And I you.” Two small round teardrops rolled down her cheeks.
Suddenly, she appeared small and distant, as if viewed through the wrong end of a telescope. In spite of the distance, our arms spanned the space, our hands clasped. When she spoke, her voice sounded as if she were still next to me.
“Be happy, dear Sebastian.”
“I love you, Kari,” I said to her wavering image. “Vous êtes mon rêve d’amour fait reel.”
***
I floated back, felt my awareness return to Aliena’s bed. My heart rate jumped as I watched her face. Had her nose twitched?
I reached across, cupped her shoulder, and pulled, turning her onto her side. Our noses were only inches away, our heads on the same pillow.
I was about to blink when those lustrous brown eyes flipped open.
A long moment passed between us.
“Mmmmm.” She scooted over, pressed against me. “I could become used to this, darling,” she said. “You are so wonderfully warm. Maybe we should sleep together forever.”
“Oh, yes,” I said.
She hooked an arm around my neck and pulled me closer. Her body tensed momentarily, her muscles clutching me painfully close. “What is this? My goodness, I feel as if I haven’t seen you in a month.”
“My darling, it seems that long to me, too,” I said.
She sat up. “Something’s not right. I feel as if…” She pushed the blankets off her body as she had the first time she had awakened, when she had been terrifie
d the priests were still after her.
I waited.
She looked confused. “I sense it’s close to dawn.”
“It is.”
“Why am I only waking up now?”
“You have been sick. Don’t you remember?”
“No.”
“What’s the last thing you do remember?”
“We were dancing at Bar Sinister. You had just proposed to me and . . .” Her gaze strayed to the scar through my right eyebrow. She touched it. “What is this?”
“It’s nothing.”
“But it’s not healing.”
“It will,” I said.
My smile did not clear the troubled expression from her face. “You’re not going to tell me what happened to your eyebrow?”
“It was burned by an interdimensional creature.”
Her eyes defocused for a moment. “Interdimensional?”
“Yes,” I said, wondering if the word would jog her memory of events, unsure that doing so would be a good thing. “Very powerful.” Anticipating her next question, I added, “I traveled to the other dimension to discover how a vampire was killed. This thing attacked me, but I was able to get out of there.”
“Were you injured anywhere else?”
“Fortunately not.”
Her finger traced my eyebrow, igniting a shiver that traveled to my toes. My relief that she remembered us was so profound, I could not prevent a tear rolling down my cheek.
“Sebastian? What is it?”
“I’m just happy, darling.” I hoped the tears would stop after one. However, when I blinked, several rolled down my cheeks. I kissed her hand and kissed the ring on her finger.
She stared, her gaze turned inward, then she said, “Something happened. Something awful. Something I can’t remember.”
I couldn’t lie to her. “Yes, sweetheart. What happened was pretty awful. We believe your memory of it will come back in time.”
“We?”
“Marcus and the others.”
She studied my face. “What happened to me? Are you going to tell me?”
“Let me tell it slowly.” Another tear slipped down my face.
“Am I still in danger?” she asked.
Ghosts of Atlantis (Immortal Montero Book 3) Page 35
