A Curse Unbroken (31 page)

I walked away at his nod, my head pounding from the stress. The vamps flanked my sides as I passed my sisters. I meant to say goodbye, but the fear claiming them made it hard for me to even meet their eyes. They thought they could hurt me and they were right. Unlike Aric, they didn’t have the ability to force Tura out. So they kept their distance, which hurt me more than I dared to admit.

Like Aric, my sisters had always believed me stronger, tougher, and smarter than I actually was. This was another one of those moments, and they were counting on me to pull through. I wanted to give them hope and assure them we’d triumph. Yet I couldn’t while I knew that which made me strong was leaving me.

I never knew exactly how to reach out to my tigress; I simply did. It was natural, like breathing. Yet although my lungs continued to work, I could feel her fading and I wasn’t sure how to keep her with me.

I frowned as we rounded the corner and a thought occurred to me. Although Tura had prevented my
change
when he’d forced Aric to attack me, I hadn’t felt my tigress pull away so severely until Shayna stabbed me…and sent me into that hellish nightmare. Was Tura somehow caging her within my dream?

You’re not alone,
the voices said again.

I shook my head. The brink of insanity wasn’t for wussies.

We passed a window of the demolished building as we hurried up the incline. It gave me a good view inside, although I wished I hadn’t looked. Bloody ash smeared the walls where some of Misha’s family had met Taran’s fire. Broken glass shone like diamonds against the bright noon sun as it streamed in through the chunks of missing roof. Some of the
weres
who were cleaning up stopped what they were doing just to glare. I averted my face, not really blaming them for hating me just then.

Misha’s driver started his Hummer limo at our approach. Another vampire opened the door, allowing Misha and me to climb in. We were followed by the three vampires shadowing us, and two more who seemed to appear from nowhere.

Edith sat beside me, eyeing up my blood-smeared neck, stomach, and leg. She licked her lips. “Can I have the leftovers?” she asked. “I never did get breakfast.”

“Take your fangs and shove them up your ass,” I snapped. “And if you so much as lick the air around me, I’ll throw you out the damn window.” In my weakened state, no way could I take on Edith. But she didn’t know that and waning strength or not, I wouldn’t put up with her asinine behavior.

“You’re so testy,” she claimed. “You know what your problem is?”

“Supernatural freaks of nature are trying to kill me, again?”

“No—well, I guess in all fairness that’s part of it—I think the big picture is you’re not having enough sex.”

“Edith. Please stop speaking.”

“I’m only trying to help….” Her voice faded at Misha’s subtle yet reprimanding glare. She flipped back her dark hair. “Forgive me, Celia. I spoke out of turn.”

“You always do, Edith,” I muttered. I leaned back into the seat and tried to settle. I was quiet the whole ride to Misha’s estate. He spared me from talking by making a few business calls to France and Russia, speaking perfectly in both languages. I concentrated on how easily his tongue slipped over the most complex-sounding phrases. It was better than worrying about what was to come. Liz entertained herself by filing her nails while Tim was on his phone setting up their “meals.”

“Make that two blondes for the master.” His attention cut my way. “And a brunette. The master is ravenous after making Aric Connor beg for his life.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. He smiled. Oh yeah, this was going to be fun.

When we reached the grand compound Misha led me to the guesthouse, while the others hurried inside in anticipation of their lunch. “You are welcome in the main house as always,” he told me.

I smiled at him. “I think I’m better off here.”

He considered his words. “I will have my family guard you at all times. As always, you have nothing to fear here.”

“With the exception of the last time when the Tribemaster attacked, ransacked the place, and made us all his bitches.”

He threw back his head, laughing. “Perhaps you are correct.” His humor faded into a small smile. “Although our lives have begun to take separate paths, I’m glad to have this time with you now.”

“Misha, you’re my friend. That won’t change so long as you respect my relationship with Aric.”

“I believe you ask too much of me,” he said quietly.

I struggled, trying to find the right words. Sometimes, I felt my attempt to be Misha’s friend was a tremendous disservice to him.

“You will find everything you need in your suite,” he continued. “Should you lack anything else or desire the superior lovemaking only a master vampire like myself can provide, please phone the house.”

And sometimes I wanted to smack him. “Er. Thanks.”

Misha was still laughing when he left.

I strolled around the 1,500-foot first floor trying to think of anything rather than the ass-kicking my life had taken. Bloodlust vampires and werewolf attacks had forced Misha to renovate and redecorate. The honey wood floors had been sanded and polished and the walls had been freshly painted gold with white trim to match the comfy white couch. Where a giant picture window used to overlook the garden, French doors now led out to a new brick patio. The accent wall opposite the flat-screen television was a deep rust color, while the throw pillows and blankets were in different shades of brown and gold. What gave me pause, however, were the pictures of Misha everywhere.

They weren’t your average catalog style poses, oh no, not my favorite vampire. The best way to describe these pictures was that they mimicked something out of
Rolling Stone
. Case in point: the black-and-white 10 x 12 of him standing naked while he strummed the guitar resting over his unmentionables. The jerk didn’t even play guitar, although I doubted anyone else would care about his lack of musical talent.

I tipped the frame so it faced down, only to roll my eyes at a profile shot of him on the mantel. And was this one ever a doozie. Misha stood shirtless in black leather pants and black boots, holding a giant bow and arrow aimed at a naked blonde. She knelt on a bar stool with her hands cupping her breasts and an apple in her mouth. I wasn’t qualified to interpret art, but by the way her eyes were closed and her head was thrown back, I had the strange feeling the apple and the arrow depicted more than Misha’s ability to shoot arrows. That one got flipped, too.

The third was another black and white, with Misha portrayed as “The Thinker.” It appeared to have been taken outside in the garden. He sat on a large stone surrounded by a multitude of flowers. From the flowers emerged hands…lots and lots of hands from women tempting and begging him to choose them. If I knew Misha, they had all gotten their wish.

They reminded me in a way of Shah’s makeshift limbs poking from the ground. I laughed when the hands in the pictures applauded, mimicking Shah’s in that field. I glanced around, realizing I had company. “Where are you?”

When I returned my attention to the photo, Shah lay beside it. I lifted him. “You like to have your fun, don’t you, kid?”

I carried him with me when I entered the bedroom suite to shower. Not only did I find my cellphone, but some clothing in my size. Misha was an overly sexed and usually inappropriate being, but he did have a heart and a way of being kind that was unmatched.

After showering I called Aric. He answered on the first ring. “Are you okay?”

I placed Shah on top of a throw pillow beside me. “Not really. This whole situation is so messed up.” I didn’t bother telling him how even bathing was becoming taxing. My arms felt weak just lifting them to shampoo my hair. It would have made him feel worse and more stressed about finding Tura.

“I promise you I’m going to make Tura pay for what he’s done.”

There was an underlying bite to his tone. “Did something happen when I left?” His silence answered for me. A horrible feeling swept through me. “Aric, are my sisters okay?”

“Tura made Emme and Shayna attack each other. The Elders and I fought to separate them, but he kept jumping back and forth between us as if playing a game.”

“Oh my God. Are they okay?”

“They’re fine, and safe, and that’s how they’ll be. I promise.”

I tried to erase the image of Shayna and Emme going after each other. They were so close. “How did you stop him?”

“He jumped into Bren while Koda was seeing to Shayna’s injuries. Tura tried to send him after Emme before she could finish healing, but Bren was able to fight his hold and keep from hurting her.”

Holy shit
.

Aric continued to speak, seemingly unaware of the significance of Bren’s response. Something was definitely different between Bren and Emme. “Genevieve is trying to throw something together to help them. But anything she can conjure will only give us a slight delay…and Taran is resisting any help from her.”

“Fabulous.” My head fell against the pillow. Shah appeared on my belly. I stroked him and tried to calm myself. “Doesn’t she understand Tura gained all his initial power by making hundreds, if not thousands, of blood sacrifices? He was deadly to begin with and now that he’s drawn from your strength, I have no clue how we’re going to stop him.” I let out a frustrated breath. “Taran has to let this thing with Genevieve go. At least for the time being.”

“But she won’t. Hell, as pissed as Taran is, I’m waiting for her to take a swing. She flat-out refused Genevieve’s help, called her an opportunistic twit, and told her she didn’t trust her or her coven.”

I slapped my hand against my forehead. “She called her a twit?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No, sweetness. She called her something close to it, but you’re my mate and I won’t use that word around you.”

I groaned, realizing what he meant. “How did Genevieve take that?”

Aric paused. “She told Taran she’s sorry she feels that way, and only means to help.”

Once more Genevieve took the high road thereby making Taran look like the psycho jealous ex. I couldn’t be sure if Genevieve was really that refined or that cunning. Either way, my loyalty remained with my sister. “Okay, vulgar name calling aside, I can’t really blame Taran for being angry. That said, for now, the witches are the only ones who can help us. I’ll talk to her. Hopefully, I can reason with her.”

“Yeah. Hopefully.” We spoke a little longer but neither of us were ever ones for small talk. “Try to rest,” he finally said. “You’ll need your strength to fight Tura when the time comes.”

“Okay,” I said quietly. I wouldn’t admit that I was scared to close my eyes and dream.

“Goodbye, sweetness,” he said.

“Goodbye, wolf. Call me tonight if you can.”

“I will, I promise.”

I disconnected and headed into the kitchen where Agnes sat cross-legged on the counter licking a lollipop. On the table was a tray full of homemade fried chicken, along with biscuits, mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, coleslaw, and a gravy boat filled to the rim with hot brown goodness. Misha’s chef knew a way to a girl’s heart.

“What’s the rock doing with you?” she asked, motioning to Shah.

“He just appeared,” I explained, feeling defensive.

“You didn’t call it—him.” She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

I tucked him into the pocket of my sweatpants. “No. And my favorite color is blue. Anything else you want to know?”

Agnes frowned when the bulge in my pocket vanished. Shah was gone again. “What does the rock want from you, Celia?”

I shook my head. “He doesn’t want anything. I think he’s lonely.”

Her frown deepened. “Just when I think you couldn’t be more of a freak you surprise me.”

“I aim to please, Agnes.” I edged around her and took my first bite of chicken. Her bitchiness had no effect on me. I was all about comfort food. She sat there, watching me as I reached for the bowl of potatoes to dip my chicken into. “Agnes, what’s your problem?”

“You don’t get something for nothing, Celia.” She motioned to my empty pocket. “Just remember that.”

I took a biscuit and popped it on my plate when Agnes left. Shah appeared on the table the minute she slammed the door behind her. I smiled. “Believe it or not, she’s the nicest of the good Catholics.”

—

Over the next several days, I spoke to Aric briefly, and my sisters even less. The nightmares brought on by Tura had begun to plague them, despite the damn protection necklaces the witches had fashioned. It was as if he’d take his turn pushing us to our breaking point, dangling us over the cliff of no return before releasing us and forcing us to cling to whatever remained of our sanity.

“I don’t know how long I can keep doing this,” I admitted to Aric. It was morning, and I’d spent yet another night awake.

“There has to be something we’re missing—or something obvious he’s blinding us from seeing.”

I wiped my eyes. I was so tired from lack of sleep they burned. “When you figure it out, be sure to tell me.”

“Celia…”

I hadn’t shared my nightmares or Tura’s mind screws. They were too disturbing to relive. But I couldn’t deny what was happening to me. “I think I’m losing it, wolf.”

Aric swore. He could hear the desperation in my voice, just like I could hear the worry in his. “You have to stay strong, sweetness. We’re working tirelessly to figure this mess out. From what Dan has gathered in his research, if Tura doesn’t have a host, he won’t be able to survive—no matter how much strength he’s leached from me. That alone should be enough to kill him.”

But for now, he had his choice of hosts, bouncing among the countless
weres
in Aric’s Pack when he wasn’t busy invading our dreams.
Bastard
.

“The witches have developed a spell that could stun Tura if he attempts to claim another body,” he added. “The problem is, given Tura’s power, the spell isn’t strong enough to bring him down, nor does it last long enough to corral him. Genevieve thinks she may have something more potent, but such magic takes time to perfect and solidify.”

“Time I don’t think my sisters and I have, Aric.”