The cab skidded to a halt directly in front of her, a trail of burning rubber following closely behind.
Too panicked to play the “is this really safe?” card, Helena jumped in, frantically glancing over her shoulder at the strange man through the back window.
“Oh, boy. What a tasty man-treat!” said the female driver who’d noticed Helena watching the man. “He gonna chase us? ‘Cause, I love a good game of cat and mouse! Raarrr.”
Helena’s mind took a second to register the driver’s bizarre question. “Sorry. What?’
The redhead didn’t turn around, but through the rear view mirror, Helena noticed the woman had thick black eyeliner chalked around her turquoise eyes.
“Nada enchilada. Where to? Wait! Let me guess!” The driver bounced excitedly in her seat and clapped. “I love guessing games! Ummm…You’re running from a man who’s so dang hot, he scorches the lace trim from your panties. And, you think you can get over him if you run, but you’re like a stray dog that’s found a giant cow patty! You won’t be happy until you’ve had a good roll.” She cackled. “Did I nail it? Did I? Did I? Huh? Huh?”
Helena sneered. Great. Just what I need. “Amsterdam and West Ninetieth, please.”
The driver nodded. “Sure, baby cakes.”
As soon as they were ten blocks away, Helena released her breath. The man had made no attempt to follow her.
The cab abruptly hooked right.
“Hey. Where are you going?” Helena didn’t have time for this.
The driver shrugged. “Amsterdam and West Hundred and Seventh. Just like you said!”
Ugh! “No. I said Ninetieth.”
“Tisk, tisk.” The woman shook her head. “Everyone knows that place is a rip-off.”
“Dammit! Just pull over.” She’d walk the rest of the way.
The driver huffed. “You’re a stubborn little thaang, aren’t you? Look it, I guarantee this other guy will give you top dollar. If he doesn’t, then I’ll take his soul and the ride is free.”
Helena smothered her sparks of frustration. “Fine.” Wait. Did she just say she’d “take his soul?” What a whack-job.
The driver nodded. “Here we are!” she sang out.
“I’ll be right back.” Helena slid from the vinyl seat.
“You won’t regret it! And don’t settle for anything under four-hundred!” the driver screamed out the window as Helena reached for the front door.
Helena glanced back, but the driver quickly turned away, preventing Helena from getting good look.
Whatever. All that really mattered was being free. Now she’d have to figure out how to stay that way.
***
Cimil watched Helena disappear into the pawnshop. “Ha! Did I tell you this was gonna be drama-tastic, or what?” she said toward the roof of the car. “Just wait ‘til you see what I have coming next! That vampire’s gonna be so jealous, his head’s going to spin like a Beyblade.”
Cimil howled with laughter then whipped out her phone and began texting: vampy bride just went into pawnshop, corner of Amsterdam & 107th.
She knew Andrus would just assume one of his men had sent the text from the blocked number. They’d been watching Helena’s every move for weeks via satellite. (The gods personally had the system installed for the Demilords; it was a much more efficient way to keep tabs on people…or naughty vamps.) That said, Cimil wasn’t leaving anything to chance. Not today. This particular meeting was critical.
The door of the cab suddenly flew open. A tall man in a gray suit hopped in. “University Medical Center, please.”
Cimil turned her body to get a good look through the Plexiglas. “Oh, hey there, naughty boy. Isn’t this convenient. I was about to come for you! Aaah fate…What would I do without her?”
The man shot Cimil a confused look.
“Hold on, honey. It’s going to be a bumpy ride! Hope you like Twister and molten lava. Cuz, that’s how we roll where you’re going.”
“I don’t have time for this crap,” the man mumbled and tugged on the now inoperable door handle.
Cimil cackled loudly then cranked up the radio. “Oooh! Lucky day. Neil Diamond.”
The cab screeched away from the curb.
Chapter 8
The full-bellied man wearing a beige grease-stained sweater stared impatiently at Helena across the glass counter. The grainy picture of a foreign soccer game flickered on the large screen TV behind him.
“What do you mean, ‘fake?’ That can’t be right.” Her blood pressure hit the floor. She’d only been free from the penthouse twenty minutes and already hit a snag in her plan?
No. She could figure this out. She was smart, resourceful, and pissed as hell about how Niccolo had treated her. In short, she wasn’t even close to giving up. She was getting her life back!
The merchant handed her the large solitaire engagement ring. “Listen, lady,” he said with a thick, indistinguishable accent. “I do ’dis my whole life. Is fake. No worth five dollar.” He picked at his molar with his pinky finger to remove whatever horrible fishy thing he’d been eating when she entered the pawnshop.
Lord, love a duck! She only had eighty bucks on her and zilch in her bank account. After graduation, she’d been planning to start working right away, to begin saving again and paying her student loans. But then, well, Niccolo happened.
As much as she’d protested, Niccolo insisted she wasn’t to worry about such trivial human things any more. She hadn’t even known he’d paid off her student loans until last week when she’d received the closing statements forwarded in the mail. She’d made a mental note to talk to him about finances as soon as possible, including her plans to go back to work.
But if Niccolo was wealthy, why would he give her a fake engagement ring? It made absolutely no sense…unless…he wanted to keep her resources limited? Maybe he’d feared she’d leave and, if he knew about her student loans, he probably knew how much money she had in the bank. He wanted to keep her from getting far.
Damned sneaky vampire! If it was the last thing she did, once she found a way to “divorce” him, she’d pay him back every cent he’d spent on her. She didn’t want to owe him anything.
Helena noticed an odd pang in her stomach when she thought about life without Niccolo. It felt…uneasy, somehow. She still craved him, his addictive scent, the endless depths of his dark eyes. But dammit! He is so closed off and controlling. And so, so strong and sexy. She stopped herself. And arrogant! And controlling! And don’t forget…he said he doesn’t “do” love. He will never ever love you.
Helena swallowed the dry lump in her throat and then eyed the intricate filigree gold ring on her right middle finger. It had been her great-grandmother’s and was the only thing of value she owned. She slipped it off and placed it on the counter. “How much?”
The man wiped his greasy palm on his sweater and popped the jeweler’s loop to his eye. “Two hundred.”
“What?” Helena’s mom once had the ring appraised; it was an antique worth a thousand. Darn it! She needed to make it to Chicago where she could stay with Ann until she figured things out. “Five, or I go down the street.”
The man blinked. “Four. That’s my final.”
Helena’s mind toggled. Hadn’t the crazy cabby said something about four-hundred? Weird.
“I’ll take it.” Helena only hoped she’d be able to buy the ring back somehow. Her mother would be devastated to know Helena had sold it.
A few minutes later, Helena emerged from the pawnshop and there, standing across the street, was the same man she’d just seen outside Niccolo’s building minutes earlier.
She froze.
His lips twitched with a predatory smile.
How had he found her? Who the hell was he?
Once again, he slid his dark sunglasses down his nose and drilled into her with his fierce golden eyes.
Helena’s body stiffened. “Darn it,” she spoke under her breath. Where had the crazy redhead cabby gone? Helena hadn’
t even paid her.
With no time to lose, she raised her arm and flagged down a new yellow chariot.
Again, the stranger made no movement towards her as she loaded herself in a cab.
***
Andrus smiled to himself as he watched the bus, bound for Chicago, pull into the rest stop as it entered Ohio. He’d been leisurely following in his black Hummer the last six hours, ensuring none of the Executioner’s guards had followed the female out of the city.
They had not. But that didn’t mean they weren’t coming. Like him, they had their ways of finding people.
Andrus parked across the lot from the silver bus and waited for the passengers to unload. He immediately spotted Helena peering out the dusty window, looking side to side. She rose from her seat and came down the steps of the bus. This was it.
He quickly left his vehicle and stalked towards her, summoning shadows to camouflage himself until he was on her heels.
“I think you lost this,” he said and then held out his hand. She pivoted and gasped. He quickly grabbed her arm to keep her from fleeing. “It is your ring, yes?”
Helena looked at the ring then up at his face. Was she frightened or confused? No…relieved. Wait. No…angry?
“I’m not going to hurt you, you have my word,” he said in a low voice. His eyes suddenly felt dry. He blinked several times.
“That might actually mean something if you were someone I trusted or knew,” she replied.
“Andrus Gray. I am a scientist—the paranormal kind.” Lie. “I just want to speak with you.” Another lie. His eyes felt drier. Why did that always happen?
Helena jerked her arm away. “Speak to me about what?”
“Your fiancé.”
Helena frowned. “He’s not my fiancé, and why the hell should I trust you—you’ve been following me.”
Andrus nodded. “He’s your boyfriend then?”
Helena didn’t respond and turned to get away.
Andrus had to say something fast to gain her trust. “Okay. His kind”—Andrus rubbed the stubble on his chin—“does not…appreciate the work my organization does. If we are spotted, it often ends poorly. This is why I’ve been following you, waiting until it’s safe to talk.” All true.
“Not my problem.” Helena looked at his closed hand to his side. “I can’t afford to pay you back, and I don’t take charity. So, your little plan was a waste of time.”
Andrus’ lips curled into smug smile. He liked this beautiful woman’s feistiness. Lucky vampire. “I propose an equitable exchange: a few hours of your time for the ring.”
She paused, considering his offer, then narrowed her eyes and shook her head.
She didn’t trust him.
Smart woman.
“I can’t do that,” she said. “The bus leaves in twenty minutes.” She turned toward the convenience store. Andrus moved quickly, blocking her way.
Helena slammed into Andrus’ chest. “What—what are you? Another effing vampire?”
I’m something far worse. “No. Like I said, I’m a scientist—or, more accurately put, a student of the paranormal.” Lie. Blink. “I’ve learned many of their tricks over the years and can teach you. You’ll need my help if you really want to run from him.”
He watched intently as her radiant blue eyes locked on his face. She was still afraid.
Time to close the deal. If she resisted, he’d have to take her and risk witnesses or police being called. That would leave an easier trail for the vampires to follow.
“Look. I know you’re afraid, but I’m your only chance. Vampires never let anything get between them and their mates. He’ll go after the people you love if he has to. He won’t rest until he gets you—”
“He says we’re married,” Helena interrupted, her eyes filled with anger. “That it happened when he took a drop of my blood. Do you know how I can break the bond?”
“I do not,” he answered. “But I can teach you how to evade him. I can even keep him from sifting you away if he gets close.”
“What’s sifting?”
He’s never sifted in front of her? Idiot, Andrus thought. He’s probably worried about using his vampire talents in front of her because of that idiotic Pact. Well, he could give a rat’s ass about the Pact. Besides, what could the gods do to him that hadn’t been done already?
“It’s how vampires travel. They can move from one place to another using their minds. Although, they cannot travel far—it burns up too much energy.”
“Crap. Then there’s no way for me to outrun him?” Helena’s face showed her desperation.
Andrus suddenly found himself feeling sympathetic toward the poor woman. Like him, she felt trapped.
Stay focused. “We rarely do this, but we have an archive. It’s the only one of its kind—centuries of texts and artifacts. Perhaps we can find an answer for you there.”
Was that a flicker of hope in her eyes? Today was turning out much better than he’d planned.
“Where?” she asked coldly.
“North of San Francisco.” The Demilords’ archives were in fact there, but the records were mostly profiles of vampires on their watch list or documents they’d confiscated. Fact was, Demilords didn’t care much about history, just killing vampires. Preferably Obscuros. Now, if a “good” vamp or two—or three or four—got in the way…oh well. No loss.
Three hundred years ago, the vampire queen’s army began failing at containing the Obscuros as the Pact dictated. It was then that the Demilords were created, and it was then that Andrus’ hell began.
“Okay.” Helena nodded. “I guess I don’t have a choice. But if you lay a hand on me, I’ll make sure Niccolo finds out.”
Oh, I hope he does.
***
“She what?!” Niccolo screamed at the top of his lungs into the phone from his lavish 180-degree Strip View Suite at the Four Seasons in Vegas. “How could you let her leave? You had two orders: keep her safe and don’t let her leave! How hard is it for five vampires to keep an eye on one tiny human woman?”
What if something happened to her? He would never forgive himself. He hadn’t even had the chance to apologize for their fight or to make it up to her. This was horrific! He was horrific. He’d made her feel so badly that she’d fled him.
He wanted to wretch. Thank goodness she couldn’t get far; she had no money or anything much of value. Yes, thanks to you, you evil bastard.
“I’m sorry, Niccolo,” Viktor explained with a hint of humor in his voice, “but your human is”—he paused—“sly. A very fitting mate for you. Speaking of, how are the wedding plans coming along? Are you going with the Gone with Wind or the Star Trek theme?”
Niccolo cringed. He was, as Viktor would say, “busted.” Attempting to make amends, the fiercest vampire in the world thought to surprise Helena with an extravagant theme wedding in Vegas. A suggestion from Sentin who insisted she’d enjoy the “hip scene.”
“Do you find this humorous? Do you?” He paused and took a breath. “Truth be told, my primary objective here is to conduct a little clean up.”
Niccolo suddenly felt sick again as the fresh memories assaulted him. The carnage left behind by the Obscuros was horrific. They’d attacked a large group of humans at a quinceañera—a fifteenth birthday party for a young woman—and slaughtered children, expectant mothers, the elderly...they spared no one.
“My apologies, Niccolo. I was only trying to lighten the mood. Has the team been able to bring Las Vegas back under control?”
Niccolo and the local team who were permanently stationed in Vegas—it needed constant monitoring—had mowed the vile Obscuros down, but he didn’t feel like reliving those memories. He knew Viktor would understand if he diverted the conversation.
“Control, no. This place—I simply do not understand it. The humans here wear giant cocktail glasses around their necks and insert exorbitant amounts of money into little machines that light up. I still cannot understand, however, why they call them ‘slut machi
nes.’ Is because they steal your money?”
“I believe the correct name is ‘slot machine.’ They’re kind of fun…” As Viktor spoke, Niccolo’s mind involuntarily shifted back to the topic of Obscuros. According to his calculations, he’d personally executed two hundred rogue vampires in recent weeks; over a thousand had been killed by his soldiers, yet the list only grew longer each day. Niccolo needed to make a bigger dent. He’d heard all about the Demilords who’d supposedly been put in place to control the outbreak during his absence, but where were they? From what he could see, no one had been keeping the Obscuros in check. Suspicious, to say the least.
“It matters little what the machines are called,” Niccolo interjected. “This place is loathsome. But if a wedding here will please Helena, then I shall do this for her. Please tell me one of your men is tracking her.”
A long silence, then, “Not exactly. She slipped away too quickly. We couldn’t pick up her scent—it is pretty sunny today.”
“Inferno! I am in no mood to blindly sift all over the goddamned—”
“Don’t go ballistic,” Viktor added, “I gotcha covered—GPS tracking. I had it added to her phone—she busted into your office and took it back. I’ve been watching her movements via Internet. You can use the live satellite map to find a safe place to sift nearby—away from any structures—then, boom. You’re there.”
Thank the gods for her thievery and for this “GPS.”
“Where is she now?” Niccolo asked.
“Heading west toward the Windy City. I’ll send the link to your phone and get you hourly updates.”
“Buon. Grazie.”
Niccolo hung up and rubbed his hands over his face. He had to get her back quickly and make amends. He had only six days left until their three-month anniversary. She had to be turned willingly or the prophecy would not be fulfilled, and Niccolo’s one chance of leaving the queen would be lost.