Deadly Desires (19 page)

“I know, but…” He paced. “I have to see her.” He walked inside and the woman was whispering words into the air. A weird fragrance filled the room and Samael coughed against the scent. Candles burned on the bedside table, even though the lights were still on.

The High Priestess looked up. Her expression was unreadable while she stared at him silently. Aching clutched his heart and he lowered himself into the chair. “How bad is it? Will she be okay?”

“Tell your man to get my tea.”

Samael’s mouth opened at being caught off guard. He walked to the door and opened it to see Dominic kneeling on the sidewalk, staring off into the sky. Was he praying? The aura around him was thick. Instead of bothering him, Samael walked over and grabbed her glass from the car. Cold air hit him as he walked back inside and shut the door.

Wrinkled hands took the tea and a good minute went by while she drank it in. “I was wrong. My instincts aren’t as good as they used to be. I thought miscarriage, but I must have just picked up the complications. Your baby lives. He thrives, actually. The bleeding was nothing more than him attaching himself better to the lining of her uterus.”

“Her what?” Samael couldn’t understand anything that she was saying. All he knew was that his son was alive and doing more than well. He couldn’t focus on the rest due to his excitement.

“Nevermind.” She laughed and reached into her bag. As she pulled back the washcloth, Samael flinched. The gash across her forehead looked deep and it stretched a good two inches above her eyebrow. “My guess is that she fainted and hit her head. It could have been because she saw the blood or maybe her body had just had enough. Fainting is common at the beginning of pregnancy.”

She took a long drink. “So that brings us to the question I’m dying to know. What brings you all the way to Jamestown, California? The license plate said Texas. You’re a long way from home, collector.”

Although this was Marcella’s conversation, Samael knew he couldn’t delay what needed to be said. Marcella was obviously in no condition to talk to the High Priestess, unconscious. “We came here to talk to you, actually.”

“Is that so?” Her eyes studied him. “And what do you wish to speak to me about?” Dominic walked in and she tilted her head. “Three collectors. Two, somewhat good.” She turned to Samael. “And one who’s seeing the error of his ways. You fight being good. I’m not sure why.”

Samael wasn’t sure what compelled him, but he motioned for Dominic to take his chair. He kneeled before the High Priestess. “I am the Devil’s son. My name is Samael. Marcella, my queen…my former wife, has been brought back and wishes for me to be good. It’s hard.”

“And you love her, so you’ve done this,” she said, gesturing to the tattoos. Her head looked over to Marcella and her mouth parted. “Marcella. Samael.” The movement of her eyes went back and forth while she went over her thoughts. “She wouldn’t happen to be
the
Marcianna, would she?”

“The one and only,” Samael whispered.

The shakiness of the woman’s hands came to rest on Marcella’s face. “She’s had quite the past life. Is it true she stood up to evil, itself, in her last minutes? The stories all vary. Especially in our religion.”

“Yes.” Samael thought back to that painful day. “My father accused her of treason. At that point, Marcella didn’t care what he thought. He accused her of betraying her vows to me, and dealing souls to angels behind his back. The power she held then was strong, but not nearly enough. My father killed her, even though she tried to shield herself.”

“And pregnant then, too, if I remember the story correctly.”

Samael nodded. “Back then, there was only one collector besides herself. She’d made her serving boy into her other half. It was his baby she held.”

“With your permission?”

“I gave her the option to have lovers. I guess I never realized the consequence of my actions. But she told me the moment she knew, and I embraced the situation. By that time, I was already madly in love with her. I would have done anything she’d wanted.”

“Such a romantic, yet heartbreaking, story. And now, here you all are again. Are we going to have to go through the sequel of your story? Will there be another fight, or does your father approve of her being alive again?”

Samael lowered his head and felt the energy of the High Priestess as her hand touched him. So many emotions took over. “Between me and Leena, the daughter my father killed, we brought her back. My father doesn’t know. That’s why we’re here. Marcella needs support. Followers. I know your religion differs from ours, but you have to believe in souls. And being paranormal, your soul will not go to heaven or hell. Not on its own. But Marcella, she can help.”

The woman stood. “I don’t believe that, collector. I know her mission, and I know what she does. The stories must be true, but I feel there’s so much more to these lives that you all don’t understand. Our souls are mysterious things, and for Wiccans, we know our God or Goddess will take care of us.” Samael watched her walk to the door. “I will remember this conversation and relay it to my people, but I cannot help you. Go home, collector, and take care of your woman. She needs to try her best to stay off her feet until after the first trimester. Although your son thrives, her body is weak.” She opened the door. “If you were smart, you’d make her your wife. Again.”

Samael stood and watched as the door shut behind her. He rushed forward and threw open the barrier that separated them. The witch was gone.

* * * *

Ambrose watched Jason, Donavon, and Zepar take turns battling each other with the large swords. Sweat was dripping from their bodies, and Jason arched his back to miss the swing that was level with his neck. He countered, swinging hard at Zepar’s chest. Sparks flew at the connection of the thick metal blades. Still, they went at each other, and Ambrose had grown bored watching them.

A twisting in his stomach had Ambrose standing. Something wasn’t right with their queen. Even hundreds of miles away, he could feel it.

The crowd that filled the bailey was large. The wolves loved watching the bloodshed that the swords caused at times. There were even a handful of vampires mixed in with some of their new friends. They’d sure come a long way since the two groups had been brought together. At the beginning, it was like walking around on eggshells. There’d been a fight or two, but nothing too serious. If it hadn’t been for their love for Marcella, there surely would have been deaths left and right.

Ambrose walked inside and headed through the large expanse of the great hall. It was virtually empty, which was surprising. There was usually at least one clique hanging out, watching TV or playing pool. The room had every sort of entertainment anyone could imagine.

The stairs came before him, and even though he knew he could disappear into the room, he hadn’t quite gotten used to the new power. Being a vampire, he hadn’t been able to do materialization. Not of himself or other things. It just didn’t seem natural to do it if he didn’t need to.

Footsteps pounded behind him and Ambrose looked to see Donavon running up behind him. “Wait up, bro. I’ve had enough. We’ve been going at this for hours.”

“I take it Zepar is staying again?” Ambrose asked as they began to mount the steps.

“I guess so. What do you think of him?” Donavon threw him a look and Ambrose laughed. He seemed to be the new psychic of the house. Everyone kept asked him questions, wanting to know what he saw or thought about things.

They reached the second level and continued up. “Zepar is okay. From what I get so far, there’s nothing to worry about. I think we can trust him.”

“I hope so,” Donavon groaned. “I have to say, my first impression was to bite his head off. Don’t have that feeling anymore though. It sure did make things confusing at first, that’s for sure.”

The short blond hair on Donavon’s head was covered in sweat. He ran his fingers through it, making strands stick out in odd angels. Ambrose couldn’t stop looking at him. He paused and faced the shifter. “Something’s off with you, and I’m not talking about anything concerning Zepar. What’s on your mind?”

Blue-gold eyes looked away and he started walking again. Ambrose followed until they reached Marcella’s and their room. Donavon tore off his shirt and threw it on the floor. “I want her home. I’ve had a sickening feeling all day, and I’m tired of worrying. We’re meant to protect her, and a lot of good we’re doing, sitting here waiting on her. I’ve tried to be understanding, but it’s hard.”

“I know what you mean. She has to do this though, Donavon.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t you think I know this? Dom and Samael got to go, though.”

Ambrose narrowed his eyes. “Dom is your leader. He’s also a collector. You’re not. What do you think would happen if Marcella needed you to change into whatever they were around to blend in, and you couldn’t? It’s too risky. And did you forget that you were on your own mission when they left?”

“You’re telling me everything I already went over in my own head. I’m just saying that it’s hard to get over the fear when I feel like something is wrong with her.”

“Well at least we can agree on that,” Ambrose said. “Something has been bugging me, and when I try to call any of their phones it goes to voice mail. I can’t stand it. I’ve even tried the mental thing and it’s not working.”

Donavon threw himself down on the end of the bed. “I’m half tempted to load up right now and drive to California, myself.”

A laugh came from Ambrose’s mouth. He couldn’t help it. Donavon had so much passion for things that meant something to him. Especially Marcella. He’d been such a handful when he’d first come to them. There were multiple times he and Dom had physically gotten into a fight. After he realized that the former demon had power over his position, it calmed him down. Donavon had to find his place, and he had, as his brother’s right-hand man.

As if by thought, Ambrose’s phone rang. He looked down and felt a stir of fear. “It’s Dom.” Donavon sat up. He hit the button and put it to his ear. “What’s going on?”

Static filled the line, and his voice broke through. “Hey, Ambrose. Things didn’t go as planned. Marcella had an accident.” More static took over.

“What kind of accident?”

“What!” Donavon flew off the bed and grabbed the phone. “Dom. Bro, what the fuck is going on?” He pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it. Ambrose raised one of his eyebrows at the shifter. He could have told him the connection was bad.

Dominic’s voice came back through, louder and Donavon pulled it back to his ear. “Okay, now what happened?” He paused. “She fainted? Uh huh.” The shifter began to pace. “Did the woman say how long it would take? Right. Yeah.” Donavon handed over the phone and Ambrose took it.

“Dom.”

“Hey, Ambrose. I was just telling my brother after he no doubt took the phone away from you that Marcella fainted and hit her head pretty hard. We met with the High Priestess because Marcella started bleeding, too. She says it’s nothing to worry about, but Marcella is confined to bed rest until after her third month. Samael is trying to figure out what to do. She still hasn’t woken up from her fall.”

It was hard to swallow as Ambrose took in the news. “Is the High Priestess going to help us?”

“No.” Dom took a ragged breath. “She said she’ll tell our story to her people, but she’s not willing to help. Samael doesn’t know whether to abandon the cause or try to convince her more. Marcella will probably want to talk to her, too.”

It made sense. “If you leave without Marcella talking to her, herself, she’s not going to like it. You know how she is, Dom. You have to tell Samael to give her a chance.”

“I’ll relay your message. Anyway, I just wanted to keep you updated. I figured if anyone knew something was wrong, it would be you.”

Ambrose smiled. “Well, Donavon felt it, too. But I’m glad you thought of us. Keep in touch.”

“Will do.”

He ended the call and Ambrose turned to Donavon. “I don’t think they’ll be there for much longer. Marcella will be on bed rest for the next few months, and Samael’s going to want it to be here. That kind of ruins her plans, but Marcella’s and the baby’s health come first.”

“Absolutely.” Donavon looked up as Jason and Zepar came in the room. A small cut was across Jason’s cheek and Zepar’s shirt was torn at the top of his arm. They were laughing until they caught the look on both of Ambrose’s and Donavon’s faces.

The door quietly closed behind them and Jason’s eyes became worried. “Did Dom call?”

Negative energy burst through the room from Donavon. Ambrose could tell the shifter was angry at how Jason only seemed to worry about Marcella once he caught their upset expressions. He didn’t know how he knew these things, but Ambrose had come to accept the impressions.

“He called,” Donavon snapped.

“And?” Jason’s eyes widened at his annoyance.

Ambrose walked between them. They’d all done so well about not fighting. He wasn’t going to let them go downhill from here. “Marcella had an accident. She’s still unconscious from fainting, but the High Priestess says she’ll be fine. They should be coming home soon. Her advice was bed rest until after the dangers of the first trimester pass.”

“I knew something was off.” Jason tossed his sword into the air and it disappeared. “They didn’t say when she was coming home?”