BAD BOY ROMANCE: DIESEL: Contemporary Bad Boy Biker MC Romance (Box Set) (New Adult Sports Romance Short Stories Boxset) (35 page)

Angela’s lips turned down in a frown.  “Bad bitch indeed.” 

“So, what happened after that?”  Sinclair asked.  “How did humans get involved with the stone?”

“Greed.  The witch realized that some humans would do anything for that kind of transformation.  The fountain of youth type properties alone could bring a steep price.  She knew that humans would relinquish money, power, and possessions, whatever it would take.  She just needed to show them it could be done.  She worked another year or so, investigating the rich and powerful of her city to see who might be interested.  When she finally had a handful, she held a dinner party, with the promise of a demonstration.  The witch was supported by her family.  Her daughter and granddaughter were both in attendance.”  She drummed her fingers lightly on the desk.  “They agreed that the demonstration should be on a young person.  There couldn’t be any risk of the demonstration failing due to an unforeseen infirmity or such.”  She laughed bitterly.  “No one wanted to be the first
real
guinea pig anyway.  So, the witch’s great granddaughter was brought out.  She was already being brought up as a witch, her potential large and promising.  She was but thirteen years old.” 

“My God.”  Niall breathed. 

“The girl didn’t want the stone to be touched to her.  She feared it, and had suspected her great grandmother’s madness because of it for some time.  She was held down and stripped to nothing but her under garments.  The more the girl struggled the more excited the humans became.”  Her mouth twisted angrily.  “Especially the men.”  She took a deep breath before continuing.  “They placed the stone to her lower back.  The girl screamed from the burn, as her own family, the women she had trusted and who had raised her, began their litany of chanting.  Little did they know that the chanting was just a show of nonsense.  The stone really needs nothing of the sort. ” Angela’s eyes became distant.  “The girl could feel the changes almost immediately.  Her body went to war with itself and the audience applauded.” 

“What happened?”  James asked.  “Was she able to shift?  Was she like the undead?”

“In the end, after a near month of insanity, her body transformed.  She could see and hear like a wolf, but she never shifted.  She was tormented by horrible nightmares, and she had no real identity, feeling the presence of the paranormals who had helped create the stones power.”  She hesitated, the next part the hardest to tell. 

“She tried to jump from the steeple of a church to kill herself, but it only proved she was unable to be killed like a normal human.  But the one redeeming point was her skill as a witch.  She became more powerful than all the witches of her family; those alive and those already dead.  In the end she plotted her escape.  She became nothing more than a freak on a leash, so to speak, for her great grandmother.  She was used in demonstrations to persuade other powerful humans to try.  Of course all three women had the same ritual performed, as well as every human in attendance at that first evening.  In a fortnight the girl’s family had become the wealthiest in the city.” 

“So, what happened to the girl?  Did she go completely crazy?” 

“No, but she did vow her vengeance.  The main thing she wanted was to see the stone destroyed.  She had two brothers who had gone off to war.  When they returned home and discovered what had happened to her, they were furious.”  Angela looked at each of them steadily.  “They told her there was a place they could all go, a place where she would fit right in and could start a business and forget what had happened.  A place where an entire community of people of color had already been living free.  So, she boarded a boat with her unusual brothers and sailed down the Mississippi to a place called New Orleans.”   

Sinclair sucked in breath.  “You!  You’re the girl!” 

“You are a sharp one.  Marquis and Phillip essentially saved me.”  Angela gave her a pleased smile.

“Bullshit!”  James spat out and stood. 

“Bullshit!”  Gabriel echoed. 

James ignored him, his eyes still on Angela.  “What war?  The gulf war?  The Korean War?  What?  And why a boat?  Why didn’t you guys fly!  What’s this talk of people of color?  You talk like this was centuries ago!” 

“My brothers joined the War Between the States to ensure their continued freedom.  My great grandmother had been given her freedom papers at the age of sixteen by her father.”  Her lips tightened.  “Her
slave owner
father. Because of his…generosity…my grandmother and mother were also free by birth right.  Of course, it’s not common for real witches to marry, but it’s essential for more witches to be born.” 

James sat down slowly.  “What?”

Angela leaned back.  “Well my great grandmother, who was mulatto in case you missed that part, had my grandmother at the age of eighteen.  Her father was an indentured servant but she thought he had beautiful eyes.  Her daughter followed in close footsteps, and had my mother after a fling with a runaway slave.  It was a hard thing for her to watch him swing from a tree.  Anyway, my mother, well, she was a bit looser and careless in her affairs.  My brothers were born from a similar circumstance, but their father was a real African.  Why he was visiting New England at that time of America’s history no one will ever know, but he stayed long enough to see them born and to give my mother instructions for their proper African upbringing.”

“You’re not black though.”  Sinclair blurted out.  Her cheeks reddened. 

“I’m many things, Cherie.  My father was a married white man.  I had six half brothers and sisters, whom I never had the opportunity to meet.  As I’ve already explained, my great grandmother was also half white.”

James ran a hand over his face.  “That makes you…well it makes you…
old
!” 

Angela laughed delightedly.  “Marcus is the oldest vampire in the city and he’s two hundred and forty, yet you question me?”

“But you’re not…”

“I was touched by that stone.”

James’s eyes bulged, his hairy cheeks puffed outward.  “Show me!” 

Angela shrugged and stood.  She unzipped the back of her dress and allowed it to fall to the floor, pooling around her ankles in a silk puddle.

“Angela, this isn’t necessary.”  Niall said quietly, and lowered his eyes. 

“The hell it isn’t!”  James said and crossed his arms. 

Angela lifted her slip, revealing a thin waist line above much broader hips.  Sinclair looked at her wistfully.  Angela had the perfect hourglass figure.  It was the figure she had always dreamed about. 

James licked his lips thinking the same thing.  Angela turned her back to him and bent over.  There above her panties was what looked like a tattoo of a jewel, set in a black fancy setting.  It was faded, but it was a perfect replica. 

“At least we now know what it looks like for sure.”  Sinclair said. 

Angela lowered her slip, and bent to bring her dress back up to her shoulders.  She reached behind herself to zip the dress, her hands colliding with James’s.  She looked at him curiously over one shoulder.  He zipped the dress slowly, grazing the skin between her shoulder blades.  Angela’s lips parted in surprise at the touch.  Swirls of black smoke instantly appeared between Angela’s back and James’s chest, forcing him backwards.  He stumbled over his chair before righting himself. 

“What in the hell is that?”

“My brothers.”  Angela replied dryly as one brother shot forward and came nose to nose with James, his mouth open in a silent rage filled scream.

“Pleased to meet you.”  James said, his head pushing back from his shoulders. 

“Be still!”  Angela ordered.  “I can have whomever I want to zip up my dress!”  The wraiths immediately swirled behind her and took on a more substantial form, allowing Angela’s guests to glimpse them briefly as they were in life. 

Sinclair cocked her head to the side, feeling the consciousness threatening to leave her.  She blinked several times and drew in breath in a slow long line. 

They won’t harm you unless I order it, and I won’t do that…to you
. 

Sinclair raised her eyes to Angela’s. 
Alright
.

“How did they die?”  James asked bluntly.  “Are they twins really?”

“Yes, they are twins.  I wish I could say they died of old age, but that isn’t the case.  They enjoyed gambling.  Unfortunately they also enjoyed cheating.”

“So, they returned to you…after?”

“Not exactly.”  Angela smiled.  “I learned a lot from my great grandmother, even when she wasn’t aware she was teaching me.”

James nodded several times in rapid succession.  “Necromancy.”

Angela’s smile thinned.           

“So, what’s the plan?”  Niall asked, releasing Sinclair’s hand.  Gabriel had fallen asleep in her arms, and he took him from her, cradling him across his lap.  He didn’t anymore of this kind of talk in front of Sinclair.  He could sense her mind was already stretched to its limit.   

“A hunt.  We will hunt Joseph until we find him.”

Sinclair chewed on her bottom lip, a question in her mind that she felt spoken would insult Angela. 

“It’s fine to ask anything you like, Sinclair.” 

“I don’t understand why you didn’t take the stone when Joseph came here to sell it.  You said you once wanted to destroy it.” 

Angela smiled grimly.  “Yes, I did.  But the problem is that it can’t be destroyed.”

“Bullshit.”

Angela regarded James coolly.  “Is that your word of the day?”  She looked back to Sinclair.  “Have you ever read any Tolkien?”

“I have.”

“So, in the Lord of the Rings, Galadriel and Gandalf both talk about the power of the ring; what a temptation it is.  They are both of the same opinion as the Elf King Elrond that it should be destroyed, but they know someone else should do it.” 

Sinclair nodded. 

“To even touch the ring could risk complete obsession, and ultimately lead to great destruction.”

Sinclair nodded again. 

“This stone is the same way.”

“Why would Enrique Arrays want it?  He said he collects rare things.”  Niall’s brow was pulled low.

“He probably had heard of it, but had no real idea of what it could do.  I don’t know this man, but I know his type.  To own it is a powerful thing alone.”  Angela looked to Sinclair again.  “Joseph had no real desire to sell me that stone.  He was looking for a way to wheedle the mysteries out of someone concerning how to use it.”

James looked around the room with a scowl.  “Are we talking about a ring or a stone here?”

Enrique stared at Latasha from across the dingy room.  Joseph was talking loudly to someone named Claude in another room, and the conversation was getting out of hand.  Enrique stood and took seat beside Latasha on the worn couch, crossing one leg over the other, and running his arm over the back of the couch to angle his body towards hers.  She leaned back with a playful expression, her full mouth twitching approval at his advances. 

“Tell me how a beautiful woman like yourself is tangled up with a man like Joseph.”

“We’re in love?”  Her declaration came out as a question and she tittered a nervous laugh as Enrique laughed robustly. 

“Right.  Did Joseph tell you what he did to his last love?”  He asked and traced a line with one finger down her cheek.

Latasha’s eyes darkened.  “He didn’t love her.  He used her to get what he wanted.”

“Yes.”  He said softly, the line extending to her throat.  “Something which belongs to
me
.”

Her dark look became fearful.  “I don’t know nothing about that.”  She lied.

Enrique scraped a nail over her throat and smiled at the droplet of blood that sprang to the surface as she gasped.  “Wrong.”  He whispered, and lowered his head to lick the blood away. 

“You’re…undead.”  Her words were barely audible. 

“Not exactly.” 

Joseph entered the room in just enough time to see Enrique’s head move back from Latasha’s neck.  He narrowed his eyes a fraction before speaking. 

“I would appreciate it if you would wait to take her for yourself until I’m done with her.” 

“You’re such a romantic.”  Enrique laughed.  “I don’t know why women aren’t already falling at your feet.”

“They will be.”  Joseph replied darkly.  He looked at Latasha cruelly, hoping to see a hurt reaction.  He enjoyed the pain his callousness could cause.  Sinclair had been easily manipulated that way, but Latasha looked like she had just seen a ghost, and was too busy staring at Enrique to offer the desired reaction.  It was as if he were a god or perhaps the devil.  Joseph’s vote went to the latter.  He certainly felt like he was playing the devil’s advocate.

“Did you reach your friend?”

“Yes, but he’s being difficult.”

Enrique nodded, his fingertips finding Latasha’s shoulder.  “I doubt a human Voodoo dabbler will be much help anyway.”

“He’s a priest.”

Enrique forced his eyes large.  “Priest, you say?  My goodness why didn’t you tell me sooner?  That makes all the difference in the world.”

“He’s powerful.”  Latasha spoke quietly, keeping her eyes on her lap.