Sealed with a Curse
Page 6

“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.”
CHAPTER 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.”
Misha leaned toward me. “Celia, if Zhahara is behind this, it is now within my rights to destroy her.” His body seethed with rage. “I will not submit to anyone.”
My entire body straightened. Inside me my tigress came to her feet, ready to emerge. The scent of my tension must have reached Misha. He closed his eyes and took a breath. “Forgive me. My anger has nothing to do with you.” He focused hard on the photos. “I am certain Zhahara threatens my family. Yet I do not have enough vampires left to fight her. You and your family have no ties to the supernatural world. You’re the only ones I can trust. Help me destroy Zhahara, Celia. Help me end the bloodlust.”
I leaned away from him and crossed my arms. “What makes you think we could be of any help?”
He paused. His gaze bore into mine with uncomfortable intensity. “Celia, I can feel the power dripping down your body.”
I suddenly felt na**d again and had to cross my arms over my br**sts before speaking. “Why should we help you? You’re nothing to us and you almost got us executed.”