Dark Magic (Dark Series - book 4)

by Christine Feehan

Breathe deeply,

  mon amour.

  We cannot afford to have the policeman suffer a heart attack in our presence. He is very susceptible to you. I can’t stand lying like this.

  There were tears in her voice, in her mind. She was clinging to Gregori’s mind as an anchor, and it made him feel the connection with her was real and solid. Perhaps even unbreakable.

  Peter deserved better. That is so,

  bйbй,

  but we cannot very well tell this man the truth. We would both be locked up as insane.

  Gregori leaned forward and stared directly into Johnson’s eyes.

  You will seek attention for your heart problem after we leave this place. For now you will cease to question Savannah and direct your queries solely to me.

  Johnson blinked, his eyes slightly glazed. Had he fallen asleep? He wasn’t feeling very well. He wiped perspiration from his forehead. Perhaps he would make a quick trip to the hospital and have those tests he had been putting off. Meanwhile, Savannah looked so distressed that he focused on Gregori. There was something about the man’s voice that enthralled him. He could listen to it forever. “No one seems to know of your marriage. We found no record of it,” he ventured.

  Gregori nodded. “Savannah’s career demanded she appear—how should I put this?—available. A single woman is much more of a draw than a married one. We have been husband and wife for nearly five years. The marriage took place in our country. Savannah’s mother is from the United States, but her father’s homeland is in the Carpathian Mountains. We were married there.”

  Johnson refrained from saying she looked far too young and innocent for a man as powerful as Gregori. It was nearly impossible to tell his age. “Mr. Sanders was fine with the marriage?”

  The silver eyes slashed like steel. “Of course he was.” Gregori could see that that question upset Savannah even more. He leaned close to the detective again.

  You will cease this line of inquiry.

  Johnson shook his head. “We’re getting off the subject here. Do you know of any enemies Mr. Sanders may have had?”

  Gregori took his time answering, looking very thoughtful. Eventually he shook his head. “I wish we could help you more, Detective, but everyone liked Peter. Well, with the exception of the reporters—he was very good at protecting Savannah’s privacy and thereby preserving the mystique of the show. I do not think you will find anyone who would speak ill of Peter.”

  “He handled the finances for the show, didn’t he?” Johnson asked shrewdly.

  “Yes, he did,” Gregori answered easily. “Peter was a full partner with Savannah. He earned it, too.”

  “Were there any problems with the books?” Johnson slid the question in, watching their faces.

  Savannah looked so pale and filled with sorrow, he felt as if he was tormenting her. No emotion showed on Gregori’s face, and Johnson knew nothing he said or did would change that. “I am independently wealthy, Detective, with more money than I can possibly use in a lifetime. Savannah did not even need the income from her show. If there was ever a discrepancy, and I certainly do not know of one, I am certain, as is Savannah, that it would be an honest one. Peter made good money from the shows and would have no need to doctor the books. I am sure you can easily check his bank accounts and our books. You are certainly welcome to do so. Peter Sanders was not a thief.”

  Savannah lifted her chin. “Peter would never have stolen anything. And if he’d ever needed money, all he would have to do is say so. We would have given it to him, and he knew it.”

  “It was just a thought. There’s no evidence pointing in that direction, but we do have to cover every possibility.” Johnson raked a hand through his hair. He hated upsetting the woman. “Sanders was in charge of your security arrangements?”

  “We had a man for that,” Gregori said smoothly. “Peter gave him his orders and kept him informed of the schedule so the man could do his job.”

  “Could Ms. Dubrinsky have been the target of some psycho fan?”

  Savannah made a muffled sound, tearing at Gregori’s heart. Beneath his massaging fingers, she was beginning to tremble. “There is always the possibility, Detective. She has at times received some very perverse fan mail. Peter and Roland, the security man, protected her from most of the unpleasantness. But if there had been any threatening mail on this tour, Peter would have informed me immediately.”

  Johnson had no doubt Gregori was the type of man to be involved in every aspect of his wife’s life. “Do you recall any strange incidents that stick in your mind?”

  Savannah shook her head.

  “What about any odd, unexpected noises that night?”

  Instantly Savannah remembered the vampire’s hideous laughter. Gregori intervened immediately. “My wife is very shaken up, Detective, and we still have to make the arrangements for Peter. Her crew is waiting for us also.”

  “So are the reporters.”

  Gregori’s silver eyes glittered a warning. “She will not be talking to reporters. This is difficult enough for her.”

  Johnson nodded. “We’ll try to sneak you out the back. But those folks have been camped out on our stairs ever since we ID’d the body.”

  Savannah winced visibly. “Piranhas,” Gregori observed.

  “They’re like vampires,” Johnson agreed. He didn’t see Savannah shudder. “Once they sink their teeth into a story, they never let go. One in particular, from out of town, has been driving us all crazy. We actually caught him trying to sneak into our files in an attempt to read our reports. He also tried to bribe someone in the coroner’s office for information.” The detective was aware he was giving out information he should not have been, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. It flowed out of him like water.

  Gregori lifted his head, dark hair spilling over his forehead. All at once he looked like a predator, dark and dangerous. Johnson’s heart took another hard thud, and for an instant he could have sworn he saw those silver eyes flame a fiery red. Gregori gave the impression of a beast with sheathed claws, waiting, stalking prey. Johnson shivered, then blinked. When he looked again, the man’s face was as impassive as ever, the eyes reflecting back his own image. There was a certain masculine beauty to that harsh, cruel face. Johnson shook his head to dispel the image of a stalking wolf from his mind.

  “Which reporter was that, Detective?”

  “I can’t really divulge that information,” Johnson said warily. There was something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but he wasn’t going to be responsible for some reporter winding up in the hospital. He had no doubt that anyone tangling with Gregori would come out on the short end of the stick.

  Gregori smiled at him, a flash of gleaming white teeth. The silver stare fixed on David Johnson’s tired eyes. That silver gaze was all at once hot, like molten mercury. Johnson felt himself falling forward, unable to look away. Gregori pushed into the man’s mind, past the thin barrier of protection, and searched the memories there. Satisfied he had what he needed, he removed the man’s memory of any conversation pertaining to the reporter and implanted the certain knowledge that Savannah and Gregori had cooperated fully and had nothing to do with the Peter Sanders’ death.

  Johnson blinked and found himself standing, shaking hands with Gregori and smiling sympathetically at Savannah. Gregori’s muscular frame dwarfed her slender one as her husband swept her protectively beneath his shoulder. She offered Johnson a wan smile. “I wish we’d had a chance to meet under different circumstances, Detective.”

  “David,” he corrected gently, doing his best not to stare.

  Gregori nudged Savannah out of the office. “Thank you for being so careful with Savannah’s feelings.”

  Johnson led the way through a maze of rooms to the back stairs. “If you think it will be necessary, I could have a couple of my men keep an eye on Ms. Dubrinsky for a few days.”

  “Thank you, Detective, but that will not be necessary,” Gregori declined softly, a hint of menace in his velvet
voice. His hand found the small of Savannah’s back. “I protect my own.”

  The staircase was narrow and dusty, the carpet worn through in several places. The couple moved down it together in perfect synchronization, like a pair of dancers. Gregori caught at her before she could push open the door. “Someone is outside.”

  Savannah glanced at the cruel edge to his mouth. “We don’t know who it is, Gregori,” she cautioned softly.

  “Scanning is easy enough,” Gregori answered. “That reporter is dangerous, Savannah. He is more than a simple nosy newspaperman.”

  “You read that detective’s mind, his memories, didn’t you?” Her fingers curled around his thick wrist, her enormous blue eyes fixed steadily on his face.

  Gregori didn’t flinch from the accusation. He didn’t pretend to look repentant. “Of course I did.”

  “Gregori,” she said softly, “you have that look about you.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “What look is that?”

  “Like you’re really hungry and you just discovered lunch.”

  He smiled in answer, but there was no warmth in his eyes. “Be very careful with this one, Savannah. He is not going to just let it go.”

  She shrugged carefully. “So let’s give him what he wants, and maybe he’ll leave us alone.” She was afraid she knew what Gregori had in mind. If the reporter couldn’t be controlled, if he became a threat to their race, Gregori would have no choice but to destroy him. She couldn’t bear the thought of any more needless bloodshed; she wanted a peaceful co-existence with the human race.

  “We will try it your way,” Gregori conceded, his stomach churning. Why did he give in to her nonsense? Her eyes, large and sad, defeated his good sense every time.

  Savannah pressed a fingertip to his lip, tracing the hard edge until it softened, and he took her finger into his mouth in a slow, erotic caress. He needed that connection with her always. She was so young, the ugliness of his life so far removed from her. How could she understand his need to ensure that such ugliness never touched her?

  She smiled, a small, secret smile he felt he would never understand. He knew the earth, the wind, the shifting water, fire, air, even space itself. He could command them all, but Savannah eluded him. Completely eluded him. Why did it matter so much that she understand? Wasn’t her safety the most important thing in his world?

  Savannah shivered at the unexpected heat burning through her body. Gregori had such power over her. When he released her finger from the hot, moist cavern of his mouth, she leaned into him, her hand sliding down his throat to rest on his chest. “I think you should be outlawed, Gregori. You’re lethal to women.” Her voice feathered over his skin like the touch of fingers.

  “Just one woman,” he answered, his silver eyes molten mercury. He took possession of her hand; he had to, before his body went up in flames. Bringing her knuckles to his mouth, he sighed as he pressed a kiss against the back of her hand, her fingers, her open palm. “Let us get this over with,

  ma petite,

  before I change my mind and turn this reporter to stone.”

  Her breath caught in her throat, her blue eyes enormous. “You can’t really do that, can you?” She was looking at him with a mixture of awe and fear, with maybe a hint of pride thrown in.

  Gregori’s face was completely impassive, the silver gaze reflective. “I can do anything. I thought that was a well-known fact among our people.”

  She searched his face, trying to determine whether or not he was teasing her. When she couldn’t be certain one way or the other, she turned and pushed open the door.

  Almost at once a man placed himself solidly in front of her, and a flash went off. Blinking at the sudden, excruciating pain of the brilliant light in her sensitive eyes, Savannah instinctively put up a hand to cover her face. Gregori turned her into his chest.

  You would insist on this. Don’t even say I told you so’!

  His soft laugher eased the sting in her eyes, but his face was hard and dangerous as he faced the reporter and his cameraman. “Get out of our way,” he warned softly.

  The reporter’s expression was wary. He stepped back, breath exploding out of his lungs. “Wade Carter, freelance reporter. I’ve been following Ms. Dubrinsky for some time. I’d like an interview.”

  “You will have to go through her press secretary.” Gregori kept moving, his arm protectively around Savannah’s shoulders.

  The reporter had to give way; he dared not challenge the other man. Gregori looked like a predator. A dark, brooding, killing machine. Menacing. He was showing his true nature to the reporter without hesitation. Carter swore to himself, but his excitement showed on his face. “There’s a rumor going around that you’re her husband. Is that true?”

  “I see no reason to deny it.” Gregori kept walking, his arm, thick with roped muscles, curling around Savannah’s head, successfully hiding her from the other man’s scrutiny. He glanced at the cameraman, who was positioning himself for another picture. “One is all you are going to get. Do it again, and I will remove the camera from you. Forcibly. And I will not return it. Do you understand?”

  The man instantly lowered the camera, his face going white. Gregori’s voice was low and soft, even gentle, but it held such menace, the veteran of many fracases opted for the better part of valor. “Yes, sir,” he muttered, refusing to look at Carter.

  “So you don’t deny your marriage. Is it true both of you come from the Carpathian Mountains?” Carter sounded eager.

  “It is a big region,” Gregori said vaguely and signaled their driver to open the door to the limousine.

  Carter pushed forward. “Did Peter Sanders know the secrets behind your magic, Savannah?” There was accusation in his voice, belligerence. “No other member of your crew does. Which could make Sanders’s death rather convenient, if you have something to hide.”

  In spite of Gregori’s restraining arm, Savannah lifted her head to face the reporter. Her blue eyes smoldered dangerously. “How dare you? Peter Sanders was my friend.”

  Carter stepped even closer. “You have many secrets, don’t you, Savannah, that have nothing to do with your magic show?”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Gregori’s silver eyes flashed.

  His mind is protected somehow. I could push past his barrier, but it is complicated, and he would know, and so would whoever has helped him achieve this. This one is very dangerous to you,

  mon amour.

  Do not cross swords with him. Let us leave this place. I will pay a visit to Wade Carter at a later date. He doesn’t scare me. He should. He is one of the human butchers, and he has targeted you. That damn mist you dissolve into. Julian was always uncomfortable with that.

  “I think you know very well what I mean. Peter Sanders found out just how some of your illusions were performed, and you killed him.”

  Savannah shook her head. “I feel sorry for you, Mr. Carter. It must be a horrible way to make a living, accusing people of crimes for a sensational story. You can’t have too many friends.” She ducked into the limousine and the safety of its shadowy interior.

  “You haven’t seen the last of me,” Carter snarled, leaning down to try to catch a last glimpse of her.

  Gregori stepped close, his imposing frame exuding power. He smiled at the reporter, a flash of gleaming white teeth. The silver eyes reflected clearly, vividly, in great detail, Carter’s own image. But it was an image of death, of a torn and bloody body falling like a rag doll to the ground. Gregori held the man in his deadly gaze. “Nor have you seen the last of me, Mr. Carter,” he said softly, a black-velvet menace.

  Wade Carter was suddenly weak with fear. He crossed himself, his right hand finding the silver cross at his neck. Low, taunting laughter echoed in his head. He couldn’t seem to get it out, not even when the tall, elegant man slid gracefully into the seat beside Savannah. Carter shook his head repeatedly, trying to dislodge the laughter, the threat, from his mind.

  He glared
after the fading limo, then clapped both hands against his ears. He had no proof that Savannah Dubrinsky was a vampire, just a gut feeling. The things she did on stage were impossible. No other magician had accomplished the tricks she had perfected. She was so young; how could she have learned to do what no one else in her field could do? He had followed her entire tour, trying unsuccessfully to bribe those working for her. No one admitted to knowing a thing.

  Every time he had tried to break in to see her props, to study what she did, something had gone wrong. It was eerie. He didn’t believe in coincidence. He might have struck out a time or two, but not on every painstaking attempt. He was a professional; his people were professionals. No road crew or security people were that good. Something smelled, and he meant to get to the bottom of it. Maybe the cops believed the current story, but Peter Sanders’s death frankly stunk. All the truck drivers and loaders had the exact same story. No two witnesses ever told precisely the same pat story. Details always differed. And it couldn’t be a conspiracy; those questioned didn’t all know one another. So it had to be something else. Like memories planted in people’s minds—something vampires could do.

  Savannah suddenly had a husband no one had known about. And he wasn’t just any man, someone who could have been overlooked. Savannah’s husband was dark, dangerous. A killer. Wade Carter was certain he was a vampire. Positive. He sat down on the steps, his heart beating like thunder. He had actually met the real thing. And the real thing scared the hell out of him. He would have to wire the others to come. What a break, and he was the one to find them. Or him. He didn’t honestly know if Savannah Dubrinsky was a vampire, but his research said it was a possibility. He was going to be famous. Very, very famous. And rich. Very, very rich.

  “He knows about us,” Gregori said softly. “That reporter is no reporter. He is one of them.”

  “Who are

  they?

  ” Savannah pushed at her hair, suddenly weary and close to tears.

  Peter. It was all her fault. She never should have allowed him close to her, never put him in danger. She had been so naive.