Sealed With a Curse (WG 1) (5 page)

My knuckles ached from pummeling the two wererats that rang our doorbell in the middle of the night, reeking of witch’s brew and begging for autographs.
And
I was coming off my sixth twelve-hour work shift in a row.

So when a master vampire showed up on my doorstep, let’s just say I didn’t welcome him with open arms.

“What do you want, Misha?”

Misha frowned, giving him a totally unfair sexy brood. “You’re not wearing my earrings.”

The earrings marked the beginning of the parade of
expensive gifts Misha had sent in an effort to apologize for vampire court. “Giving us jewelry and paying off our mortgage doesn’t change the fact you almost had us killed. You can’t buy us, Misha. We’re paying you back for the house.”

“The master sent flowers and candy, too,” one of his idiot bodyguards said from the walkway.

“Oh, yeah, ’cause nothing says, ‘I’m sorry I wanted to torture you,’ like chocolate truffles.” I narrowed my eyes at Misha. “Just tell me what you want.” The corner of Misha’s mouth curved slightly while the two goons behind him exchanged “I have dibs on her liver” glances.

“I came to see you.”

I stood in the doorway in the tank top I’d slept in and a pair of yoga pants that had been begging to go to the big laundry basket in the sky. My wild curls and I had fought. They’d won. I hadn’t showered, and I resembled something the wereraccoon was chewing on before he ran like the dickens. Yet Misha’s hungry gaze swept along my body, despite my hell-on-a-cracker appearance.

I leaned one arm along the doorway and rested my other on my hip, annoyed. “Why? Did you run out of virgins or something?”

Misha’s gray eyes flickered with stirring mischief. “If I had, should I expect to find one here?”

“Nope. We’re all out, too.”

“Hmm.” Although it sounded more like
yum.

Misha lived in Tahoe City, a ridiculously wealthy area packed with multigazillion-dollar properties. I doubted he’d driven the six short miles to our home in Dollar Point just to borrow a cup of virgin. A few moments passed, enough time for that cocky expression to slowly
dissolve and shadow with foreboding torment. “I need your help, Celia. I fear it is rather urgent.”

My human side warned me to run far and fast. Whatever scared Misha would surely scare me. My tigress held us in place. She thought we should hear out the reigning Prince of Darkness. I refused to invite him in, though. Inviting one vampire meant only he or she could enter. Inviting a
master
allowed him and everyone in his keep access to our home, so we agreed to meet at a nearby café. I reasoned that he wouldn’t have sent flowers and gifts just to kill me later. And while he didn’t make my insides flutter like that wolf I’d met, Misha wasn’t exactly hard on the eyes.

After making my waves as presentable as the laws of big hair would allow, I traded my pathetic ensemble for workout clothes. My plan was to go for a run after our chat. I was running more—a lot more—hoping for another glimpse of that sexy wolf.

I drove to the Kings Beach Cafe and slipped into the booth where Misha waited. Two waitresses rushed to our table. I thought they were going to fistfight to see who would wait on us—or should I say, wait on Misha. The waitress with the most robust figure won.

“Good afternoon. I’m Tiffany. Would you like to hear the specials?” That’s what she said. Judging by the way Tiffany’s breast casually brushed against Misha’s arm when she handed him a menu, she really meant, “I’m not wearing any panties.”

Misha gestured to me with a subtle wave of his hand. “Perhaps you should start with my lovely companion.”

Perhaps she shouldn’t have. Tiffany did a double take and huffed. In her preoccupation with Misha, she’d failed
to notice me. I smiled and gave her a pinky wave. “Just a chai tea latte, please.”

Misha kept his eyes on me. “The same for me as well.”

Tiffany returned in record time…and braless.

Hello. I’m still here, Tiff.

Misha smiled at my scowl. “Would you like anything else, my darling?”

“No.”

I’d meant to sound annoyed. I blamed Misha for taking away our anonymity. And yet, as Tiffany flounced away, I found it increasingly difficult to feel anything but curiosity. Misha sported yet another designer suit. This time he’d tied his long blond hair back from his shoulders. He may have dressed for the corporate world, but there was nothing nine-to-five about him. Misha was model perfect. And Misha knew it.

So then what was he doing with me? Hell, I didn’t even wear makeup.

He’d selected a corner booth where the sun peeked through the shades. I couldn’t help but smile. Bram Stoker had it all wrong. Sunlight had no effect on preternatural beings. Only sunshine created through magic could do them harm. Crucifixes didn’t work either: Many vampires were devout Catholics, although they usually snacked on the priest following confession. Vampires did, however, drink human blood. That much was true. Blood preserved their youth, enhanced their beauty, and kept their organs functioning. And while vamps took their fair share, it was less than humans donated to blood banks. Unbeknownst to humans, though, vampires ran most blood drives. Guess that explained all the shortages.

“So what do you want?” I finally asked.

Misha’s face turned grim as he quietly explained. “The morning following vampire court, I killed my second in command. He had been a member of my keep for the past hundred years.”

Suddenly, tea with Misha sounded like a very bad idea. My claws crept out, digging into the underside of the wooden table. “Why did you do that?” I asked, hoping he had a damn good reason.

“My family and I woke to the screams of my maid. It took us mere moments to reach her, yet we were too late. Andres had drained her completely.”

Oh, God.
“Bloodlust?”

He nodded.

“Misha, how is this possible?”

Misha shook his head. He reached for his tea, but changed his mind. “It shouldn’t be. I manage my family carefully. They feed well.”

If it wasn’t a lack of feeding, then it had to be magic. “Then some whack-job witch obviously cursed him.”

“I believe you mean cursed
them
.”

My eyes widened. His menacing tone told me he meant more than Andres and Taran’s hell date. “How many are we talking about, Misha?” He gave me a hard stare. “Misha! How many?”

“Twelve.”

Vamp court had been just a week ago. My mouth went dry. “Twelve vampires in seven days.” I blew out a shaky breath. “All yours?”

“Yes.”

“Have you discovered the witch who cast the curse?”

“No. I am not certain a curse was cast.”

I took a drink from my cup, trying not to think about an army of vampires stalking through the streets and
thick forests of Tahoe. Ski season was over, but summer was quickly approaching. That meant thousands of tourists shopping, golfing, swimming, rock climbing, camping, and hiking. Not to mention the year-round residents.

I paused, realizing what Misha said made no sense. “What do you mean, you don’t think a curse was cast? Isn’t that how the bloodlust pendulum swings?”

“The blood of my vampires is linked to mine. Had a curse been cast, I would have felt it here.”

Misha placed my palm over his heart. Hard muscle tensed beneath the smoothness of his silk shirt. His steady heart beat rhythmically.
Bump, bump. Bump, bump.
Mine was more of a
pitter, patter, thump, crash, thunk.

It had been a long time since I’d
touched
anyone. And touching Misha made me uncomfortable.

Misha must have felt my trepidation, because he released my hand before I could snatch it away. His head tilted with amused interest, but he spared me further humiliation by continuing. “Witch magic is playing a part, yes, but how remains obscure. I suspect a rival master is the key behind the attack against my family.”

“Why a master and not just a witch?”

Misha motioned to one of his goons, who handed him a large manila folder. “Celia, there is tremendous upheaval in the vampire world. Masters are seeking any excuse to challenge one another to the death.”

I leaned on my palm. “Okay…but why?”

“A master’s death at the hand of another master transfers all power to the victor.” He flashed a cheerless grin. “My kind seeks power and wealth obsessively, sometimes at any cost.”

I nodded. “You
are
a bunch of greedy bastards.”

Misha paused at my brutal honesty before chuckling.
“The victors in Europe, Asia, Africa, and Australia have emerged. Through a mutual agreement, they have decided to stay in their respective regions, unwilling to go to war. Yet the leaders of the Americas have yet to be determined.” He placed six photos in front of me and pointed to the first four. “Antoinette Malika, Zhahara Nadim, Sofia Rocio, and Roberto Suarez.”

The judges from court. I nibbled on my bottom lip, a sense of unease building deep within me. “All masters in the area?”

Misha nodded. “All the masters on the West Coast have settled near Tahoe. They are energized by the magic of the lake.”

I rubbed at my arms, knowing what he meant. Tahoe both enlivened and settled my beast. My eyes focused on each photo, only to widen at the picture of a fair-skinned vampire with crew-cut blond hair and dark brown eyes. “Petro. Petro…is a
master
?” I picked up the photo and examined it carefully. Petro remained vampire pretty, yes, but something about him seemed so nerdy. It was probably due to his awkwardness. And the damn bow tie didn’t help either. I placed the picture back on the table, shaking my head. “He didn’t feel strong to me.”

Misha stroked his chin. “You are correct. My brother is not as strong as he should be.”

That got my attention. “You’re
brothers
?” When Petro had said they were of the same family, I presumed he meant Misha had sired him.

“We share the same master.” Misha focused on his picture, hints of sadness and shame finding their way into his strong voice. “Petro is not like the others of our station. The only power he appears to possess is the ability to create the undead.” He flicked the edges irritably with
his fingers. “The grand master considered ending his existence decades ago, embarrassed by his…inelegance. Petro’s keen intelligence is the only thing that spared him.”

Feelings of not belonging poked irritably in my gut. I could relate. So could my sisters. But that didn’t mean I’d make Misha aware. “Which grand master?”

Misha pointed to the last picture. “Uri Heinrich. He
turned
me and Petro vampire.”

Uri smiled pleasantly in the photo. His short dark hair and well-trimmed beard made him appear dashing, despite the honest-to-God olive green opera cape he wore. Yet a sense of power danced around his photo. If a mere picture did this, his presence would likely knock me out of my sneakers. “Why would your own master try to kill you now? He could have easily stolen your power upon your creation.”

Misha leaned back, hurt reflecting from his ominous gray eyes. “It is possible I have lost the grand master’s favor.” His gaze traveled to each of the pictures, falling lastly upon Uri’s. “In the last century, I have gained the potency it took my rivals several centuries to achieve. The wealth I acquired for the grand master and his fondness for me may not spare me from his desire to attain a greater power.” He tapped the photo. “And yet if he chooses to strike, I do not believe it would be now. The grand master is patient. He would likely wait until the others and I finish ourselves off so that he may take the champion’s collective power.”

I went through the pictures again. “Can a vampire cast a bloodlust curse?”

Misha shook his head. “No vampire can work such magic. And as I mentioned, I would have felt it.”

My brain searched for a possible solution. Bren had educated us on the supernatural world based on his personal experiences as a werewolf. Prior to meeting Bren, Danny advised us by studying old magic chronicles. Still, there was so much we didn’t know. I played with the edges of my hair. “Can a vampire influence another preternatural?”

“Our control works only on humans. And magic from different mystical races cannot be combined. It clashes, with the dominant power ultimately extinguishing the other.” He drummed the table impatiently. “I sought an audience with the leader of the local witch clan, but she denied any involvement. Had she lied, I would have sensed it.”

I slowly sipped my tea. No matter how I sliced it, Misha was screwed. As a master, he was responsible for the actions of his family. He had no choice; he had to kill his infected vampires.

But he also needed to figure out the cause of the infestation.

I waited to see if he would say more. He didn’t. “Why are you telling me this?” I finally asked.

“The first stone has been cast. It is my belief it was done by Zhahara Nadim. She is my closest adversary in both power and business, and maintains the company of a former head witch. Zhahara despises the earth I stand on and has sworn to ruin me any way she can.”

I remembered how eager she seemed to dig her vindictive fangs into Misha. Yet, I couldn’t hide my grin. “Did you dump her or something?”

Misha didn’t answer, but his one-sided smile spoke volumes.

“You
did
, didn’t you?” I shuddered. I’d heard of Zhahara,
even before being graced with her wicked bitch presence in vamp court. She was considered the Doris Duke of Lake Tahoe—very rich, very elusive, very much someone you stayed away from. “I guess hell hath no fury like a preternatural female scorned.”

Misha chuckled. “Is this a warning, my dear?”

“Unless you plan to date me, too, no.”

Misha didn’t deny it.
Uh. Oh.

I cleared my throat. I wanted to date a master vampire as much as I wanted to get declawed. “You said you needed my help. What can I do?”

“You can help me invade her home and kill her.”

C
HAPTER 5

“Why do you regard me in such a manner?”

The “such a manner” Misha referred to included my jaw scraping the floor and my eyes bulging out of my skull. I blinked back at him. “Oh. I’m sorry. I just didn’t realize you were nuts.”