“What are you doing here?” Vivienne’s icy tone broke her reverie.
“I was hoping to see Father, of course.” She twisted around to face her stepmother, trying to keep the scowl off her face.
“Well, he’s not here,” Vivienne snapped. “He is at the campaign office.”
Mariza swung her legs over the side of the sofa. “Touchy.”
“Don’t push me, Mariza.” Vivienne’s hands were curling by her side.
She eyed her stepmother. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Why was everyone so violent here? Must be a bi-product of their occupations. She was rather pleased she wasn’t in the family business.
“Why are you here? In my home? Where you’re not welcome.”
“Of course, I’m welcome,” Mariza scoffed. “I wouldn’t have been able cross the threshold otherwise.” Really, her stepmother had been a vampire for four hundred years. She should know by now vampires couldn’t enter a home, unless invited in.
“You can’t keep turning up here expecting to mooch off your father whenever one of your many husbands die in ‘mysterious circumstances,’” Vivienne gave finger quotes to the last two words, “and the family cuts you off when they find out it was you.”
Mariza swirled the blood around in the glass, “Yes, it’s getting more and more difficult to get away with murder nowadays.”
“So, get a job like the rest of us.”
“Me work?” Mariza sat up, appalled by the idea.
“Yes, it’s how the rest of us get by.”
Mariza scoffed. “Please, you use my father’s money as much as I do.”
“No, your father and I are equal partners in this marriage. I love your father, and he loves me.”
“You don’t deserve my father’s love, you human-turned whore.”
Vivienne scoffed. “If anyone is the whore around here, it’s you.”
Mariza’s eyes flashed, and she stood to face her stepmother with bared teeth.
Her stepmother smirked at her, knowing she’d gotten a rise out of her.
She raced over to her and lifted her hand to slap her stepmother’s cheek, but Vivienne grabbed her wrist.
Huh, her stepmother was stronger than the last time they’d met.
But she was first-generation Primus. She radiated strength and power over her stepmother.
Mariza leaped toward Vivienne, her fangs exposed, and her fingers bent like claws ready to tear flesh from bone.
Vivienne raised an eyebrow and shook her head before ducking, letting Mariza sail overhead. She crash-landed on the sofa, tipping it backward.
Her face flushed. Mariza stood back up, gritting her teeth and spun on her heel to face her stepmother once more.
“Really, Mariza, do we have to do this every time?” Vivienne sighed. “As you know, we’ve got a whole room downstairs dedicated to fighting. How about we have a real go around on the mats.”
“No, dear stepmother. We’ll finish what we started all those years ago, and the living room is the perfect setting.”
Vivienne rolled her eyes. “Always with the theatrics. Very well.” Vivienne’s blue eyes flashed. There was no fear in them as Mariza had hoped, only determination. A small trickle of fear trembled through Mariza. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as easy as it was four hundred years ago.
Mariza pushed this fear deep down inside. Who was she kidding? She had nothing to fear, except maybe to incur her father’s wrath when he found out she’d killed his wife.
Mariza leaped again. Vivienne pushed her open palm out, sending Mariza flying backward. Okay so leaping toward her stepmother was out of the question. She stalked toward her swinging her fist. Vivienne blocked it, knocking her arm away.
Mariza stepped back. She didn’t care much for fighting, but she could do this. It was instinctual—the need to survive.
Mariza brought her fist back and aimed for Vivienne’s face. Vivienne dodged to the side. Her stepmother was being more irritating than usual. She was always on the defensive, never directly attacking back. Why? Surely, she wanted this as much as her. And this little dance they were doing was getting her nowhere. She wanted her stepmother to feel pain.
It was because of her stepmother she had turned to a type of lifestyle she detested in the first place. It was because of her stepmother she now had a creation running around hating her and dating her sister.
Mariza began to see red now.
A fierce growl erupted from deep within her throat.
Her stepmother was going to pay.
Mariza closed the gap and gripped her stepmother’s throat, flinging her to the side. Vivienne sailed through the air, landing on the armchair, toppling it as she landed. She picked herself up, cracking the bones in her neck. Her blue eyes looked murderous. She took her shiny beige heels off her feet and flung them to the side.
Mariza smiled. Now it was getting serious.
Fists curled, the two women stomped toward each other, growling. Mariza swung her right hand, but Vivienne dodged the blow, shifting to the side. Mariza wasn’t prepared for that, and she stumbled forward. The rip of material rang in the air as Vivienne lifted her knee and slammed it into Mariza’s stomach, gripping her back. A groan escaped her lips. The pain which blasted through her lasted only a second before her stepmother brought a fist down on her face. Shock stilled Mariza more than the pain.
Fuck her stepmother could fight. How could she not know this?
And she was fighting dirty.
Mariza chuckled to herself before flinging Vivienne off and straightened back up. Vivienne struck again, her ripped skirt allowing her to once again kick Mariza in the stomach. Mariza grabbed her stepmother’s foot when it made contact and twisted. The sound of bones cracking gave Mariza a wave of satisfaction. Vivienne howled in pain. Mariza threw her stepmother backward.
Vivienne righted herself, standing tenderly on her broken ankle, her chest heaving.
Mariza wasn’t giving up, and it seemed neither was her stepmother.
The two women screamed at each other as they ran across the room, launching themselves at each other, both grasping the other by the neck. But Vivienne had a sneaky move up her sleeve. She hopped up and wrapped her legs around Mariza’s waist, then snapped Mariza’s neck.
“Fuck.” Mariza howled, trying to straighten her neck and pry Vivienne’s fingers away. But her stepmother tightened her grip, blocking her airways. Fucking bitch. Mariza took a page out of her book and twisted her fingers around her stepmother’s neck and turned.
Her stepmother’s fingers and legs loosened their grip around her neck as she fell to the floor. Mariza slumped back as well. She straightened her neck, already feeling the bone and sinew reattaching. But she shouldn’t have stayed there waiting to heal.
Vivienne had revived and was on her now, digging her nails into her skin.
Mariza hissed.
Then her stepmother did something she never expected. She tore strips of skin and flesh off her. Mariza’s eyes widened. She kicked her stepmother’s stomach causing her to grunt and let go.
Mariza stumbled back looking down at her arm, blood gushing from her wound.
Vivienne scrambled across the already blood-stained rug. She picked up her stiletto and threw it at Mariza’s head. The spiked metal heel scraped her forehead from the force of the throw.
Mariza had had enough.
Mustering all her Primus strength, she drew her hand back and smacked her fist into her stepmother’s face, forcing her head back and snapping her neck again, knocking her unconscious.
Mariza slumped to the ground, looking around, dazed. She touched the seeping wound on her forehead. It was beginning to heal. There was blood everywhere, and her designer dress was torn. She gingerly lifted herself off the floor.
Vivienne was laying still, but because Mariza hadn’t staked her, she’d be awake again soon. Mariza would be long gone before then.
She stepped over her stepmother’s still body and began ascending the stairs. Her luggage w
as in her car, and she wasn’t going out of the house looking like this. What if there were another potential hanging around?
Mariza decided to raid her little sister’s closet.
She followed the delicious scent of Morgana until she found the right room. She crinkled her nose as she entered. The stale smell of Gareth still lingered. Taking in the room, she was instantly nauseated. Framed pictures of their little family were on the dresser. Front and center was a picture of Morgana—what did they call them these days—selfies? Also, there was a photo of Morgana and Gareth, obviously taken during an intimate moment. Mariza curled her top lip in disgust. Tacky.
She moved on from the pictures, opening the wardrobe doors. Gross, she thought, scanning the clothes hanging inside. “Little sis, you have no sense of fashion at all.”
Rifling through the hangers, she caught a whiff of something. She stilled. She knew this smell. Something instinctual to all Primus—hawthorn. Surely not?
But she had heard her little creation had killed Randalf recently. Following her nose, she searched the back of the closet, trying to find the stakes, turning up nothing.
She knew they were here in the room.
She dressed quickly, pulling the closest clothes off the hangers, then continued searching the rest of the room. She pulled open each drawer with trepidation—nothing but underwear and a dildo or two. Mariza smirked at the sight of the sex toys. She had never been satisfied with Gareth’s performance in the bedroom, either. She often had to work unusually hard to get what she wanted from him.
Vivienne’s groans as she began regaining consciousness drifted up the stairs.
Crap. She had to get out of here. If Morgana had hawthorn, Vivienne would have it as well.
Mariza rushed down the stairs and out the front door. She’d have to come back for the hawthorn later.
Chapter Seven
Morgana and Oscar entered the campaign office and found a fuming Phyllis.
“Where’s your boyfriend?” she growled at Morgana, her green eyes flashing with hatred. “He was supposed to come in early.”
“Good morning, Phyllis.” Oscar stepped up beside Morgana and placed a hand on his daughter’s shoulder, but his tone had a warning edge to it. “Gareth had somewhere to be. I wasn’t aware he was scheduled to come in today.”
Morgana kept her face impassive, so she wouldn’t give away her father’s lie.
Phyllis’ face softened. She patted her blonde curly bob. She’d chosen to wear a mauve business suit today. “Yes, he did have an important appointment he couldn’t reschedule, so I told him to come in earlier to make up his hours.”
“Well, then, I’m sure my daughter’s boyfriend,” Oscar sounded the last word out, like it was a foreign word on his tongue, “will be along shortly.”
“I’m here,” Gareth muttered, stomping past them without giving either of them a glance.
“Good.” Phyllis turned on her heel, following him. She began giving him instructions on the work she wanted him to do.
Morgana watched Gareth, anger simmering under her skin. She tilted her head. Why was she feeling angry? Was the anger coming from Gareth? She was starting to suspect what might be causing it, but she couldn’t be sure unless she talked to him. Unfortunately, based on the cold shoulder he was giving her, it wouldn’t be anytime soon.
Gareth looked up from his desk, crossing his arms. Their eyes met. “What?” he mouthed while Phyllis rattled on.
Morgana shook her head making her way to her desk. Now was not the time to discuss what she was thinking.
The campaign door opened, causing Oscar, Gareth, and Morgana to glance in toward the front.
Mariza had waltzed in.
Her sister flounced into the office wearing tight purple jeans with a black leather corset underneath a denim jacket. Morgana groaned inward. Mariza had been raiding her closet, mixing her spy outfit with her everyday wear. A feeling of panic rose like bile in her throat. If Mariza had been in her wardrobe, she may have found what was hidden in the floorboards.
“What brings you here, sis?” Her false, bright tone oblivious to anyone in earshot.
“I’ve come to see Daddy, of course.” She smiled brightly.
Oscar walked over to Mariza, pulling her into his arms. “Mariza, my dear, how lovely to see you again.”
“It’s good to see you, too, Daddy.” She flashed him another smile.
Morgana rolled her eyes. Since when did Mariza start using Daddy? But Oscar was eating it up. He always had a weak spot for his children—even the evil ones.
“I hope you’re well?” Oscar asked Mariza.
“Very well, thank you.”
“Little sis, how good it is to see you,” Mariza greeted her with false brightness.
“Can’t say it’s the same for me,” Morgana muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. She could feel Gareth’s eyes watching them.
“Pity,” Mariza pouted.
Morgana rolled her eyes again.
They all turned to Phyllis, who was shuffling over to them. Phyllis eyed Mariza up and down.
“Are you here to intern for Mr. Van Wilden’s campaign?” she asked Mariza.
“Oh, no, I’m here to visit Daddy.” She turned to Oscar, smiling.
Phyllis gasped, her eyes widening, “Oscar has another daughter?”
“Yeah.” Mariza shrugged, turning her attention to Oscar’s campaign manager. “There’s a few of us Van Wildens gettin' around.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Phyllis asked Oscar, the color draining from her face.
“What’s it to you?” snapped Mariza.
Oscar cleared his throat. “Mariza,” he warned. “I apologize, Phyllis.” His palms were held up facing her. “I should explain.”
But Phyllis interrupted him. “I’m his campaign manager, that’s what. It would have been nice to know the ‘family-man,’ Oscar Van Wilden, had illegitimate children running around. This could seriously undermine his campaign,” Phyllis hissed, her face now becoming the same color as her suit.
Oscar narrowed his eyes. “My children are not illegitimate. I was married once before Vivienne.”
At the same time, Mariza stood with her hands on her hips, towering over Phyllis. “Excuse me! Who are you calling illegitimate? My parents were very happily married before my mother passed away.”
Phyllis blinked at Oscar’s tone but was too angry to stop her tirade now. “How, Oscar? How can you have been married twice with two grown daughters but only be in your forties?”
Oscar looked down at Phyllis. “Four children, to be exact, and I was very young.”
“Well, I never.” Phyllis threw Oscar an incredulous look and turned on her heel, stomping off as best as she could muttering under her breath. “One child I could have dealt with but three more? Maybe seducing Oscar may not be such a good move after all.”
They all burst into laughter—even Gareth joined in. Morgana, Mariza, and Gareth all stopped once they realized who they were laughing with.
“Well, Daddy, I’ll see you later?”
“Yes, of course. Are you staying in town?”
“Well, I was hoping to stay with you.” She batted her lashes.
Oscar cleared his throat, pulling on his shirt collar. “Unfortunately, my dear, you know it wouldn’t be a good idea with your stepmother and all.”
Mariza’s eyes darkened. “Yes, I’ve already seen her.”
Oscar nodded. “How about if you stay at the local hotel, The Majestic? Put my credit card down against the reservation.” He opened his brown leather wallet, passing it over to her.
“Of course, Daddy.” Mariza brightened.
Morgana’s top lip curled up. Of course, he would foot the bill for Mariza.
Phyllis stomped back toward them, “Oscar, a word?”
Oscar nodded. He kissed Mariza on the cheek. “It’s good to see you again, Mariza.”
She nodded.
“Shall we catch up later?”
“
Of course, Daddy.” Mariza flashed him a smile.
“Good.” There was a sadness in Oscar’s eyes. He hid it well, but Morgana saw it flicker. He smiled at them all, then turned to Gareth and said, “Can you do me a favor? Run over to the house for me. I seem to have forgotten the lunch Vivienne prepared for me.” His eyes conveyed a different meaning.
Gareth nodded. “Certainly, sir.” He walked out of the office, throwing both sisters an angry glance as he passed them.
Phyllis frowned at Oscar, but he smiled, making her face soften. She giggled like a schoolgirl.
“Good.” He held his arm out toward his office. “After you, Phyllis.”
Mariza sneered at Phyllis’ back, pulling on her jacket.
“Stop pulling on my jacket,” Morgana snapped. “You’ll stretch it.”
Mariza turned back to Morgana. “It’s too tight around my shoulders, anyway.”
“Well, wear your own damn clothes then!”
“Why are you so angry with me? We’re supposed to be blood. Speaking of blood…” Mariza licked her lips, eyeing Morgana’s neck.
Morgana leaned forward. “I’ll snap your neck before you ever get near me,” she whispered fiercely.
“Please, you know I’m not some weak human-turned vampire like Gareth.” Mariza leaned forward, keeping her voice equally as low.
Morgana’s eyes flashed, and she grit her teeth.
“You know, sis, you should be grateful for what I did to him.” Mariza sat on top of her desk and trailed her finger over a file folder.
“What’s that… leave him to die alone?”
“No, turning him. You should be thanking me for your vampire boyfriend and you finally getting laid.”
The blood rushed to Morgana’s face, heating her cheeks. This time it was her own anger boiling her blood.
“Ah, so he was your first?” Mariza was misreading Morgana’s blushed cheeks. She tilted her head. “So that’s why you have those dildos in your drawers.”
Morgana ignored her sister’s jab. “If you ever go near Gareth,” Morgana spoke through clenched teeth, fists balled at her sides under the desk.
“Oh, please, there was a reason I left him for dead in the first place. I don’t want him.”
The Van Wilden Chronicles Box Set Books 1-3 Page 25
