Cursed Kiss (Paranormal Romance) (10 page)

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Pablo's arms closed around Clare as she stumbled into the shadowy bedroom in Taldom. She inhaled a breath of Christian Dior aftershave and coughed. Pablo's aftershave was so incongruous with his old-fashioned outfit that she nearly laughed.

Pablo barely spared her a glance, his gaze fixed over her shoulder. "Where's Luka?"

Clare twisted to stare at the full-length mirror she'd passed through. Her intention had been to grab Pablo and go straight back if she could, but it had taken a few moments to gather her senses and she'd missed her opportunity. "Damn. The portal's closed. Now we'll have to stand here until we see somewhere on Earth."

Pablo stared at her, his face pale, lines of tension bracketing his mouth. "How long will that take?"

"Just over four hours the last time it happened to me." A horrible stench reached her as if there was something dead in the room. She glanced around, nose wrinkled. A huge four-poster bed dominated the space, its red velvet drapes hooked back to reveal white lacy sheets. Smaller pieces of elegant, dark wood furniture were placed around the room. She saw nothing to account for the smell.

"Clare, don't get distracted." Pablo grasped her hand, his gaze fixed on his reflection, and pulled her back to face the mirror.

"We'll get back. It's just a matter of time." She gave his fingers a reassuring squeeze, although she felt far from reassured by the surroundings. The smell still hung around and it bothered her.

Pablo met her gaze in the mirror, his anxious eyes rich velvety brown in the late afternoon sun. "We can't be too long. Luka needs my help to survive."

Comprehension dawned. Luka needed psychic energy and the only person he could touch without causing them harm was Pablo.

"How long can he last without you? Hours, days?"

"Days, but I don't want to leave him worrying."

He would be worrying. Clare imagined how she'd feel in his position. The poor man must be frantic, unable to do anything to get them back.

The sun fell and dusk poked its shadowy fingers into the room.

"What do we do if someone comes?" Pablo asked.

Clare had been wondering the same thing. She glanced over her shoulder. "Hide under the bed."

"That's the first place someone would look."

"But they won't be looking for us, will they?"

Their eyes met in the mirror and Pablo released a tight breath. "We'll be lucky. Nobody will come. In a moment we'll see somewhere in the mirror and pass through the portal."

She wished she shared his optimism. They stood in silence for a while, then something stirred in the glass. "Look." She raised a finger. She tensed, preparing to move, and squinted. The brown image wavered and distorted.

"Shall we go?" Pablo said.

"No. We can't risk passing through unless we're sure what's on the other side."

The image faded, leaving them staring at their own reflections again. Her shoulders sagged and she rubbed her forehead.

Nothing happened for what felt like hours. Clare let her gaze travel up and down Pablo's reflection. His skin glowed deep bronze, his hair glossy black. He was an attractive man, probably better looking than Luka, but he didn't have Luka's charisma. Although she had to admit that the tight leather leggings and the jerkin, loosely laced to reveal a glimpse of chest, were pretty hot.

His gaze snagged hers in the mirror and his lips kicked into a smile. He'd noticed her checking him out. Clare cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders, but he wasn't going to let her off that easily. He stroked his fingers over her hand and she pulled it away.

"Not the time or the place," she said.

"I disagree."

"Just watch the window."

He laughed.

She cast him a sideways glance. "I got the impression you were into Luka."

"My tastes are eclectic."

"Hmm, the pretty blonde waitress for example?"

He gave her a mischievous grin.

Clare rolled her eyes and concentrated on the mirror.

A faint tapping sounded, growing louder, until Clare realized it was footsteps.

"Someone's coming. Should we hide?" Pablo asked.

Clare hesitated, not wanting to move in case she missed an opportunity to go home, but equally worried about getting caught. She held her ground for a few more seconds, then dashed to the bed. She lifted the valance, preparing to slide underneath but the wretched bed was solid.

Her eyes widened and her gaze shot to Pablo. "On top," he whispered.

They scrambled up on the high bed, released the ties that held back the bed curtains, and yanked the drapes closed to hide themselves. Pablo ended up behind her and she found herself huddled between his legs.

Clare froze, pulse racing as she tracked the footfalls. A moment later the room door creaked open. Light, decisive steps, which sounded female, clicked across the stone floor.

Pablo hugged his arms around Clare, squeezing so tight she could hardly breathe. The room's owner moved around. Fabric rustled and the sounds of items being moved continued for a while. Clare clenched her fingers, the tension almost unbearable. At any moment she expected the bed curtains to be pulled aside and their hiding place exposed.

An unusual scuffling caught her attention and she cocked her head to listen. It reminded her of a brush being dragged across the floor, but the sound came in short scrapes, more like a scuttling noise. Could it be an animal? Clare wracked her brain to remember the horrible creatures Luka had described. This creature sounded small and fast and she couldn't think what it might be.

Pablo gave a muffled cough. Immediately the scuttling stopped. Whatever it was had heard him.

Every muscle in Clare's body tensed to the point of pain.

"What is it, my angel," a soft voice crooned. "Come tell Mommy." That voice sounded so familiar, it raised the hair on Clare's neck.

There was a quick burst of the scuttling sound, then the room filled with a shrill clicking that turned Clare's insides to ice water.

Clare's heart pounded in her ears as the woman's heels tapped out a path to the foot of the bed where the curtains met. Then the drapes were flung apart. The silhouette of a tall, slim woman with long hair was framed by the swaths of red velvet.

A gasp burst from Clare's lips at the sight of her grandmother. Shock left her light-headed and it took a moment to get her mouth around the frantic rush of questions in her head. "Monique…how…you're dead?"

Although the woman was obviously her grandmother, she looked younger. A stunning floor-length sapphire gown draped her slender form, bringing out the blue of her eyes. Her glossy dark hair flowed over her shoulders like ebony water. Nestled in her ample cleavage, clinging to a diamond pendant, was the biggest, hairiest spider Clare had ever seen.

Monique idly stroked a fingertip along one of the creature's legs. "Clare, darling, I've been expecting you."

Clare scrambled to make sense of what was happening. It was shocking to find her grandmother in Taldom when she had supposedly died in a house fire months ago. "Is this where people come when they die?"

Monique laughed. "Don't be stupid. Do I look dead?"

"Well, no."

"Come on, catch up, darling. You're not usually this slow." Monique glanced past Clare, and her delicate features puckered. "What's Pablo doing here? Where's Luka?"

Things started to drop into place in Clare's mind, although she was far from having the full picture. Somehow Monique had set this up—and she was expecting Luka. "What are you up to?"

"It's business, darling. Never mind, you can go back for Luka later." She bared her small white teeth in a smile that was almost feral. "Pablo can entertain us in the meantime. Can't you, Pablo, darling."

Chapter Seven

Clare followed her grandmother down some roughly hewn stone steps on the way to dinner. Her initial shock at finding her grandmother in Taldom had faded to be replaced by a dark sense of foreboding.

Her instincts screamed that Monique's business here involved Luka and not in a good way. Clare would never bring him back through the portal if that were the case.

The air in the large dining room was hazy with smoke from thick pillar candles. About thirty men and women with metal goblets in hand stood around talking. Dressed for dinner in fine clothes, they were adorned with gold and silver jewelry, rich silk embroidery, and pearly buttons.

This was like a scene from a historical film. The whole thing seemed unreal, as if she were dreaming.

Pablo touched her arm. "Don't leave me, Clare, please."

"Of course not." She slipped her arm through his and was surprised to feel him trembling.

As they moved into the crowded room, the soft hum of conversation dropped and faces turned towards them.

"These people look like us," she said in a soft aside to Pablo.

"They're the same race as Luka," he replied.

She hadn't thought of that. They obviously weren't all afflicted with the problem Luka had, the lack of psychic energy.

Monique motioned for a servant to seat her at the head of the table. She beckoned Clare with a sharp, red-nailed finger and pointed to the seat on her right. With courtly nods that reminded her of Luka, the crowd stepped aside, opening a way for them. Pablo walked at her side, but it was her doing the leading and supporting and him the following.

As Clare sat, Monique fixed her gaze on Pablo, running the tip of her tongue across her teeth. "Pablo, you'll sit on my left."

For a moment, Pablo clung to Clare's arm as if he couldn't bear to be parted from her. Then he straightened and walked behind Monique's chair to take his own.

He seemed wary—no, more than wary, frightened. Whatever the antipathy between Monique and Luka, Pablo had obviously been involved as well. As soon as they were alone, she would ask him about it.

While the other men and women took seats, Monique sat regally, chin raised, scanning the crowd intently like a predator selecting the weakest member of the herd. She cupped her diamond pendant in her palm and tapped it in the same rhythm as the horrible spider's clicks.

Although she wasn't hungry, Clare forced down some of the unidentifiable red meat and vegetables from the metal platter. She wasn't sure when she'd get her next meal. Pablo pushed his food around his plate but ate little.

Most of the conversation at the table took place in a strange guttural language, but when the guests addressed Monique, they spoke in strongly accented English. Were they all denizens of Taldom? Or were some of them from Earth?

Monique quizzed Clare on what was happening at Moray, and it occurred to Clare that as her grandmother was alive, then she still owned Moray. Why on earth would her grandmother leave her precious company in anyone else's hands?

"I don't understand what's going on. Why did you fake your death?" Because that was obviously what Monique had done.

"Straight to the point. I do like that about you, darling." Monique patted her lips with a napkin.

Clare narrowed her eyes, taking in Monique's fresh, young complexion. Her grandmother had always used Moray Faceglo to stave off the effects of aging and it had worked—but never this well. Anyone who didn't know them would assume Monique was her sister.

"How did you escape from the fire?"

"There was a portal in the house that burned down."

"You left, making it look as though you died?" Clare shook her head, trying to shake her thoughts into order. "Were you in trouble with the police or something?"

"Heavens, no! Nothing so dramatic." Monique placed her goblet back on the polished oak tabletop, picked up an exotic red flower, and twirled the stem between her fingers. "I simply wanted to pursue a business opportunity, the sort that comes along only once in a lifetime."

"Some kind of elixir of youth," Clare guessed. "That's why you look so young."

"Something like that." Monique ran her hand down the sleek length of her dark hair. "My latest discovery will change our world forever."

"You're coming back to take over, then?"