Blood Curse

by Crystal-Rain Love

  Aria shook her head again, trying to clear the confusion settling there. Seta and Christian looked at her intently, their full belief in this story evident in the hopeful gleam in their eyes. Could it be true? It all sounded so cultish to her, so surreal. “Why would I be chosen? It doesn't make any sense."

  "Those who are predestined to mate have special abilities which are to be passed down to their children, certain traits which will make the children powerful warriors."

  "I have no special traits or abilities. I'm just a normal human woman."

  "A born witch is created every other generation."

  Aria frowned, wondering what that meant. “Okay, so if Rialto has a child the kid will be a witch. What's that got to do with me?"

  "Rialto actually took some of my abilities when I turned him, so he can not pass on any magic to his child. You, however, definitely will give birth to a witch."

  Aria shook her head. “But that would mean my mother was a witch."

  "How do you think she knew when the two of you needed to leave that dreadful little town? You'd barely driven a few miles before your house was raided."

  "How do you know that?"

  "I'm a witch, as was she. We have a tendency to see certain things."

  "No,” Aria said, shaking her head against the memories starting to surface. All the dreams her mother had which turned out to be true, her warning not to get involved romantically with anyone in Pickahoe, the way she'd come to her in a dream to warn her about Rialto. The way she'd looked at her so sadly and hugged her so tightly and often during the last few weeks of her life . . .

  "My mother knew she was going to die, didn't she? Why didn't she do something to prevent it? It doesn't make any sense!"

  "A lot of things seem to not make sense, Aria. It doesn't mean they don't. If your mother did see her death coming and didn't take precautions, there was a reason, just as there was a reason she didn't let you know she was a witch. Maybe you weren't supposed to know. “ Seta again grabbed her hands. “There were several times I heard the story of the predestined mates and thought it was all rubbish, but the moment I saw you, I knew who you were. Rialto needs you."

  Aria glanced over to Rialto. He lay so still, so lifeless. She couldn't explain why she felt such a deep connection with him, or why she'd dreamed of him before they first met. Maybe there was something to this story that Seta and Christian obviously believed in, but she couldn't stop the fear slithering through her, the fear of “what-if.” What if she turned out like Antonia? Would she kill innocents? Would Rialto have to kill her?

  Was the risk worth it?

  "What happened to Rialto after that night? What did he do after he killed Antonia?"

  Seta's gaze fell to the floor as she released her hold on Aria's hands. Christian suggested Seta sit on the couch as he rose from it to pace. He stopped before the chaise and looked down at Rialto's resting body.

  "He was deeply distraught after the incident. He took care of the mother and child first, giving the woman some of his blood so she could heal through the next day, and making sure they were left with someone who could care for them. Then he went to the cliffs."

  Aria felt the sensation of being pulled away again, but fought against it, keeping her eyes open and fixed on Christian. She had a feeling she didn't want to see what Rialto had done.

  "He lowered himself to the ground, stretched out and waited for daylight."

  "Daylight would kill him,” Aria said, horrified.

  "Yes, but first it would make him suffer. The direct rays of the sun are cruel to our kind. They rip away at our flesh, slowly peeling away layer upon layer until there is no longer any barrier of protection. But first it heats our blood, bringing it to a scalding boil, cooking our internal organs. The pain is excruciating as we fry beneath the rays, waiting for our skin to peel away so the boiling hot juices inside can seep out, evaporating under the intense heat."

  "Enough, Christian!” Seta was shaking where she sat, streams of tears running down her cheeks. “She gets the point."

  Christian nodded solemnly. “Aria, he allowed that torture to happen to him. He would have allowed it to kill him, if Seta hadn't arrived and carried him out of danger."

  "And you expect me to put him through that again?” Aria rose from her seat, punishing the floorboards beneath her feet as she paced the room, fuming with anger that Rialto would do such a thing to himself. “You're both crazy if you think I will allow it! Fate or not, I won't put that kind of guilt over his head."

  "Aria, it won't be that way,” Seta cried. “It is destiny. Antonia was not meant to be one of us. You are!"

  "How do you know that? How can you be one hundred percent sure I'm one of these chosen few? Have you ever thought that this story you speak of is just that? A story? Something old vampires tell little ones to get them to sleep?"

  "Don't be ridiculous, Aria!"

  "Ridiculous? I'm the one being ridiculous while you two are spouting off old stories about predestined vampires who can have babies? Why me? Why in the world would I be chosen to give Rialto a child when everyone I've ever loved has suffered because of me? Believe me, Seta, I'm the last person who should be involved with your son. You said it yourself; my blood is poisoning him."

  "But, Aria . . ."

  "Enough!” She raised her hand for silence. “I don't want to be a vampire. I've had more than my share of guilt already, and I don't need anymore. And after seeing images of my childhood, Seta, how in hell do you expect me to agree to bring a child into this world who would have an even harder time trying to be accepted? I'm sorry, but I'm not the woman you think I am. I'm not the mother of Rialto's future child."

  "Then you must be the angel of death,” Seta said through clenched teeth, “because that is exactly what you will bring to him if he doesn't change you over."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Twelve

  "Seta."

  Seta bristled at Christian's warning tone while she watched Aria leave the room in tears. It took every bit of restraint she possessed to keep from running after her. Instead, she turned her heated glare toward Christian's angelic face. So calm and peaceful looking, he made the blood flowing through her veins burn like molten lava. “What am I supposed to do, Christian? My son is dying."

  "Maybe not."

  "Of course he is. You know the story."

  "I know a few versions of the Blood Revelation, as do most of our kind. The story has been passed down for centuries, and it has changed several times, depending on the age and origin of the vampire telling it."

  "There are some consistencies."

  "Yes, there are, but my point is we don't know the whole truth to the story. Maybe Rialto is supposed to fall ill and Aria is supposed to refuse him."

  "Why would that be?"

  "I don't know.” Christian ran a hand through his short, dark hair and joined her on the couch. “But fate is fate. Everything happens for a reason. You were meant to go over the cliff that night. Rialto was meant to be left on that same cliff . . ."

  "Do you really believe that?"

  "Think about it. Ridding the world of evil is what we do. You changed Rialto over and he was able to rid the world of Roberto Garibaldi, an act that made the lives of several people much better."

  "And everything that happened back then has led us to this night."

  "Exactly, and everything happening right now is for a reason. I believe in your instincts, Seta. I believe those two are meant to be together. I felt the passion between them myself the first time I met Aria."

  "But Rialto said he'll never change her over, and she says she doesn't want to be changed."

  "Does she have to be changed?"

  "Yes. For the prophecy to be fulfilled she has to be immortal."

  "Can you turn her?"

  "Believe me, if only it were that simple. The Dream Teller told me long ago that Rialto would eventually find his true love and that I absolutely could not turn her. Rialto still bla
mes himself for what happened to Antonia. He needs to turn Aria, to see that he didn't taint her, that there was already something dark inside her.” She looked at her son, once more feeling the rage which engulfed her each time she thought of the woman he'd been forced to kill. Why hadn't she predicted what was to happen? Why hadn't she been able to stop it? “I'm scared that once again I'm not going to be able to stop him from doing something to hurt himself. I can't make him turn her."

  "Their feelings right now may change. Circumstances may change."

  The fine hairs along the back of Seta's neck stood on end. “I didn't like your tone just then, Christian. Your last statement sounded a little ominous."

  "Things are happening, Seta. Things have been happening for centuries. You're a witch. Don't tell me you don't feel it."

  "If you're referring to the panic and sense of impending doom, yes, I feel it."

  Christian's eyebrows furrowed. “Doom? I'm not sure I would call it that. It's more like a pull. I started feeling it the last morning I woke as a mortal. It's steadily grown stronger since. It's kind of like being on a train and not knowing the destination."

  "Yes.” Seta shook her head before resting it on the back of the couch, tired of this conversation and tired of trying to figure out whatever it was that Christian was trying to say. The only train she felt was the one that had gone off course and was speeding toward a major catastrophe. Something was wrong. Rialto was sick and that never happened to their kind. Eron was missing, and there was someone or some thing out there preying on innocent women and making it look as if vampires were to blame.

  And she couldn't shake the feeling that it was all tied together.

  Where was Eron? She would feel so much better if he were near. And he would be near if he could feel the fear racing through her veins. Eron would never leave her alone when she was in this much turmoil unless . . . something had happened to him. Again she tried to think of a way that could even be possible, but her head ached with the effort. Eron was extremely old and extremely powerful. He could fight off anyone.

  "What are you thinking about over there?"

  She looked at Christian, caught the concern in his eyes, although he was trying to appear nonchalant. “I can't feel Eron."

  A spark of something flared in his eyes, but he quickly closed them and erased whatever emotion had momentarily escaped him. “He's dead?"

  "No. He's not dead. I don't feel that, but I don't feel anything else either. I've called to him, but he hasn't responded. It's been like this for months now, and for some reason I've started getting images of him."

  "What kind of images?"

  "I saw him when I read the body we found in Leakin Park, and I've seen him in these flashes I've been getting, warning flashes of danger."

  "So Eron is somehow tied up with this situation?"

  "Yes, but I don't know how. He can't be the killer."

  "Of course not, but he can't be a victim, surely. Who would have the power to overtake him?"

  "I don't know. It would have to be someone very powerful themselves or extremely smart."

  "It would take a maniacal genius, Seta. Eron's no fool."

  No, Eron was no fool but someone had managed to fool him nonetheless. Seta glanced at her son, felt her pulse quicken. “There's more, Christian."

  "Hmm?"

  "The scent of vampire we found on the body; it was Eron's scent."

  "What?” Christian's eyes darkened as he leaned in. “How is that possible?"

  "I don't know. It was so faint that Rialto didn't notice. At least, I don't think he did. The scent was diluted somehow."

  "Eron couldn't have killed those women."

  "I believe we've already established that."

  "Then how? I mean, if his scent was there, he had to have had some access to them."

  "Or maybe the killer just had access to him."

  Christian let out a slow breath. “You really think he's been captured? Eron, the most powerful vampire we've ever known?"

  "It seems crazy, I know, but . . ."

  "You believe it anyway."

  "Yes.” Seta gulped, her gaze once more zeroing in on her son. “And if there's someone out there powerful enough to capture Eron, how are we supposed to stop him from killing more women, stop him from fulfilling my vision and killing Aria?"

  Wake up . . . wake up . . .

  Rialto squeezed his eyes shut so hard his head ached, willing himself to come out of this slumber, but it was no use. He could still hear her laughter. The maniacal sound of it seemed to echo off the mountains, intensifying his torture. He could smell the blood on the ground as it seeped out of whatever fragments of flesh were left on the bodies. There were so many dead. The heat of the bonfire warmed his skin, but the warmth didn't reach his heart. It felt like a block of solid ice in his chest, ready to shatter at the slightest touch.

  "Why do you do this to yourself, Rialto?"

  He stiffened as the old witch approached him from behind, always seeming to know exactly where to go, even though her eyes were useless. “What do you want?"

  "I want you to stop this,” she rasped in her old, tired voice, stopping beside him. His eyes still closed, he couldn't see her mouth, but knew it was pulled into a frown.

  "Then help me to wake up, Dream Teller. Are you what's keeping me here?"

  "No, I didn't bring you here, and I can't get you out of here with magic, either. This is your doing, Rialto, and yours alone."

  He opened his eyes, carefully avoiding the scene before him as he turned to stare the old witch in the face, not quite sure if looking her in the eye mattered. “Let me out of here."

  "I can't release you from your own torment, child, not when you're trapped in your own nightmare. Anyway, you denied my help back when it actually would have done you some good."

  "Don't remind me."

  The last thing he needed right now was the memory of the mistake he'd made over a century and a half ago. She'd come to him in a dream, advising him not to reveal himself to anyone, but the very next night he'd done just that. He'd revealed his true self to Antonia, ignoring her obvious horror at his revelation, and forced her into his world, a world she clearly hadn't been meant for. “Why didn't you just tell me not to change her over?"

  "Would you have listened?"

  No. There was no need to answer aloud; she already knew the truth. She knew everything, even more than his mother who was a powerful witch herself. “Why are you here now?"

  "You need to end this torture. Stop wallowing in blame and guilt, Rialto, before you drown. You will be useless to her then."

  "Useless to whom?"

  "The one you were actually meant to be with."

  He looked at her, noticing the wrinkles at the corners of her mouth turning upward as she faded. Alone again, he felt the chill night air more clearly as he realized what he needed to do to fade out of this dream world. He needed to look his nightmare in the eye, literally, and say goodbye. He squeezed his eyes shut and expelled a deep, calming breath, gathering his defenses. He didn't want to look into Antonia's blue eyes, didn't want to see them electrified by her murderous passion. It had been bad enough the first time.

  Still, he wanted out of this hellish place.

  "Antonia, it's time for me to let your memory go,” he said as he turned in the direction of her dancing footsteps and opened his eyes, horrified when they clashed with emerald green instead of electric blue. “No! Aria?"

  She stood before the bonfire, the same bloodstained dress Antonia had worn swirling around her body, the pale whiteness contrasting sharply with her light mocha skin. It was dark again, meaning she had been changed. He had changed her. “No, this can't be! You're supposed to be Antonia!"

  Her grin was slow to spread, bringing out the menacing leer in her eyes. “I am Antonia. You did the same thing to me that you did to her. You took away my innocent soul and cursed me with evil."

  "No!” Rialto shook his head feverishly. “I haven't changed y
ou over. I only tasted you. I backed off before it went too far."

  "You backed off on that night,” she said slyly, her grin spreading into a full smile. Rialto's stomach churned when he saw the caked blood between her teeth—the blood of innocents. “You see, Rialto, this isn't a memory dream. This is a premonition."

  She threw her head back and laughed before she stalked over to the baby carriage where the innocent child cried, not knowing it was being hunted.

  "Aria, no!"

  Rialto jerked straight up into a sitting position, cold sweat chilling his skin. Where was he? A brief glance around the wood paneled room, furnished with a sofa, chair, small kitchen area, and the chaise he was on provided the answer. He was in Christian's underground living quarters. How did he get here?

  The last thing he remembered was walking alongside Seta. He'd been hungry and tired, his strength quickly leaving him and unable to hold down any blood, not even Seta's. He must have passed out.

  "Great. Mommy carries her baby to safety again,” he muttered to himself as he realized Seta must have carried him to Christian's. What had Aria thought about that?

  Aria.

  The beads of sweat rolling down the center of his back felt like ice shavings as he recalled the nightmare he'd just escaped. It had seemed so real, the evil burning in her eyes, the heartless way she'd stalked toward the baby carriage. He'd caused that. He had turned her into a brutal, soulless monster just like he'd done to Antonia. But he hadn't. He hadn't done anything. Yet.

  Rialto muttered a foul oath as he rose from the chaise, a wave of dizziness nearly toppling him back down. His internal clock told him it was around eleven in the morning, much too early for him to be up and about, but the dream had knocked him for a loop. The last thing he could think about was sleep, not until he saw for himself that Aria was safe.

  The dream was a wake-up call. He needed to protect her not only from her mother's killer, but from himself. He had promised to help find the killer and he would, but he needed to treat her like any other client, even though he wasn't being paid for his services.