I Want You to Want Me (27 page)

Orabella’s eyes welled with tears, but she didn’t say anything. Even as he turned away from her and crossed over to Erika, she remained leaning against the wall, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Even attacked, deranged and denied, she still managed to look beautiful,
Erika thought vaguely.

Slowly Orabella slid down to the floor, her knees pulled up, her forehead resting on them, like a broken, lost child.

“Are you okay?” Vittorio asked Erika. His tone was soft, regretful, his dark eyes filled with concern and maybe trepidation.

She managed a nod, even though she was still scared witless and aghast at all that had happened here tonight. But she needed to trust someone, and no matter what she’d seen and heard here, Vittorio—and Ren—were still her best bets.

Vittorio touched her shoulder, just a brief brush of his fingers against the cotton of her shirt, and she wasn’t sure if the caress was meant to comfort her or himself.

He leaned across her to undo the cord binding the other wrist. As he worked, he murmured to her in the same calming voice he’d used when she’d had her nightmares. But this went beyond mere nightmares. This was real.

“It will be okay. I swear. I love you. I’m sorry.”

His words were all things she wanted to hear, but at the moment she couldn’t process them. She couldn’t comprehend what had just happened.

She let her eyes drift shut, trying to gather herself, to calm herself enough to walk back into the world, now knowing things she didn’t want to ever know.

Yet, she did know Vittorio and Ren. She knew they were good and decent, and she loved the man leaning over her. She did.

She opened her eyes to reassure herself this was the same Vittorio she’d spent hours with, talking and laughing and making love. The man who knew all her favorites, right down to her favorite vegetable, zucchini, and her favorite animal, the aardvark, just because she liked the word.

She looked up at him, his lovely long hair, his too-serious eyes, the sensual shape of his lips.

She started to reassure him that she was okay, when she saw a movement over his shoulder. Then suddenly he was jerked away from her, bodily flung across the room. Erika screamed, watching him fly through the air like a discarded rag.

Orabella stood there, glaring down at him where he landed in a heap close to Ren. She no longer looked like a shattered child, but rather a furious goddess hell-bent on destruction.

“Vittorio,” Erika called to him. He struggled to sit upright, but didn’t attempt to stand. Instead he swiped the tangle of hair from his face and regarded his mother with dead-looking eyes.

“You have to stop this now,” he told Orabella.

Orabella laughed, the sound cruel and sharp. “You have to understand that you can’t stop me from having what I want. Neither you nor your lowly brother are strong enough to stop me.”

“Then you are going to have to kill me,” Vittorio said evenly, “because I will never do what you want.”

“If that’s what you want, then I guess as your mother I will have to try and give you what you want.”

She didn’t move, but clearly she was doing something that was affecting Vittorio. In the same way Ren had seemed to simply fall unconscious, Vittorio began to droop, his arms falling heavily to his sides, his head bobbing, then falling to his chin.

Fear overtook Erika. Orabella was going to kill them all. She tugged at the binding Vittorio had been working on and her wrist slid free. She sat up, reaching for the knots around her ankles.

“Don’t tell me you are going to give me trouble now,” Orabella said from beside her. “Can’t you see I already have had a rough day?”

Erika didn’t pause, slowly looking at her. “Please.”

“Please. Please,” Orabella mocked. “No amount of your pathetic begging will save you. And if I hadn’t promised you to Aosoth, I’d take great pride in killing you myself.”

“But you did promise,” Aosoth said, reminding Erika for the first time in some time that the creature still waited, boredom clear in her pale yellow eyes.

“I did,” Orabella agreed, but she didn’t move.

“And I want her now,” Aosoth said, her voice losing some of its cultured refinement and growing guttural. “I grow tired of this drama. I want my sacrifice, and then I want to go back to hell. The place doesn’t run itself.”

Orabella didn’t seem to be listening to the demon—at least, given the hell talk, Erika assumed it was a demon.

Suddenly a ripple of confusion coursed over Erika. She blinked slowly, trying to get her bearings. Then another wave hit and another, until she was feeling muddled and weak and unable to focus on anything.

“You cannot have her. You brought me here and I demand payment.”

Erika could tell it was the demon talking, but it seemed very far away, like she was drifting away under the effects of anesthesia.

“I will have her,” the voice repeated, and though it was distant, Erika could hear the fury in its voice.

Erika stopped trying to fight the heavy, lulling sensation and closed her eyes. This didn’t feel bad. Maybe this was as bad as death was going to get.

Then she forced her eyes open. What was she thinking? She couldn’t just give up. She didn’t want to die.

She lolled her head to the side and squinted at Orabella, her form a blur of blond hair and the pale material of her dress. A hazy ghost. A deadly ghost.

Erika’s limbs felt like she was underwater, as she used the only thing she had to fend off Orbella—the ancient cell phone in her hand. She tried to aim and threw it, her attempt more like a lob than a well-aimed pitch.

Orabella’s laughter reached her ears.

Then Erika heard her mutter, “Pathetic.” And Erika had to agree. She let her eyes drift shut for just a moment, but knew she couldn’t give in to this warm, weighted feeling. This was death, no matter how nice it felt.

Erika lifted her eyelids as much as she could, trying to center on Orabella, who was nothing but a fuzzy blur like a person seen through a frosty window. Then behind her a dark form appeared. And then there was a scuffle, although Erika couldn’t see who was fighting.

This is too difficult,
she thought, and her eyes closed again. Maybe she could give in just a little. Just a little death.

Vittorio half shoved, half fell into his mother. Not the most agile move, but his unexpected assault did send her flying. Her head cracked against the edge of the table and she crumpled to the floor.

He caught his balance and stood over his mother’s prone body. She didn’t move and he used the little time he knew he had to check Erika. She was breathing, thank God, but the pulse at the base of her throat was weak, erratic. He could still be too late.

Vittorio sensed rather than saw a movement from beside him. He spun, poised to fight. To attack again if necessary. But it wasn’t his mother that he saw coming toward him. It was the demon. Aosoth.

Then he noticed that the demon, who’d been contained in the circle of a pentagram, stepped outside the boundary, the spiked heels of her boots clacking on the wooden floor. He studied the circle, realizing Erika’s phone had slid across the floor, disturbing the iron filings, leaving a break in the circle. Allowing the demon to escape.

Vittorio positioned himself between the demon and Erika, shielding as much of her as he could.

“You can’t have her,” he stated.

The demon stopped, surveying him from narrowed, yellow eyes. “It’s brave to deny a demon.”

“You can’t have her,” Vittorio repeated.

Aosoth smiled then, a wide curl of her lips that almost made her look human. Almost.

“I don’t want her,” the demon said, and for a moment, Vittorio thought he’d imagined the response.

“What?”

“I don’t want her,” Aosoth repeated slowly. “I want her.” A long, claw-tipped finger pointed toward Orabella, just as she came to, struggling to sit up, disoriented.

“I will take that one in place of your mortal.”

“Why?”

Aosoth smiled, again taking on a human air. “Call me a hopeless romantic. Or call me a demon smart enough to take the one who will do my bidding best.”

Vittorio glanced at his mother.

“Give her to the lizard,” Ren said groggily from his place on the floor. “She deserves to be in hell.”

Vittorio couldn’t deny that. His mother had killed so many. She’d rejected one son and tried to dominate the other. She’d done everything with only her own needs and desires in mind. And she’d never stop.

Not unless she was finally taken where she belonged.

Vittorio nodded, a small bob of his head.

The demon moved forward, easily lifting Orabella by the neck.

“You are mine,” Aosoth growled.

Orabella finally seemed to be aware of what was happening. She threw Vittorio a wild-eyed look. “
No!
Vittorio, don’t let this happen. Don’t let this happen.”

Vittorio didn’t move, or even breathe. This was the right thing to do. The only way to stop her. And she had to pay for her deeds.

“Please,” Orabella begged, her voice breathy, scared.

Aosoth glanced at Vittorio, just for the briefest second, then the room was filled with blue flashes of light and deafening thunder.

Vittorio leaned over Erika to shield her as plaster shook down from the ceiling. Just when Vittorio decided he had to carry Erika out of the shaking room, that it wasn’t safe, the noise and lightning stopped.

The room was almost harshly silent. He immediately lifted his head, which had rested on Erika’s stomach. Her pulse still fluttered in her throat, but it seemed even weaker than before.

Ren appeared at his side, leaning heavily on the edge of the table.

“That bitch nearly drained me,” he muttered. Then he eyed Erika.

“Is she breathing?”

Vittorio nodded. “Just barely.” She was alive, but for how long? Had Orabella taken too much?

“She’s not doing well,” Ren said, pressing his fingers to her wrist. “You’ve got to give her some of your energy.”

“What if she’s too close to the edge? What if I change her over?”

“What if she dies,” Ren stated.

Vittorio stared down at Erika’s pale, almost translucent skin. The faint, delicate veins in her eyelids. The whiteness of her lips. She would die. That knowledge pierced him, like a knife slicing deep into his chest and twisting.

Without thinking any further, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to her, her lips slack and cold against his. He made a frightened noise deep in his throat, then he let his energy enter her, filling her.

God, please let me be doing the right thing.
The thing Erika would want. The thing that she could forgive.

Erika woke. What a weird dream. Definitely the worst of the nightmares she’d had thus far. Well, maybe not the worst because Vittorio and Ren had made an appearance in this one. And Isabel had made an appearance too. Craziness. Definitely not the worst, but definitely the oddest. And very vivid. And Vittorio had been some sort of monster—a vampire or something.

She started as someone knocked on her door.

“Come in,” she called, expecting it to be Vittorio. She would have to tell him what she’d dreamed. He’d get a kick out of that image. An angst-filled vampire. And that Isabel had been his evil mother.

But instead of Vittorio, it was Maggie. She poked her head in the doorway, looking almost sheepish.

“Hey there. How are you feeling?”

Erika smiled, giving her a confused shrug. “Fine. How should I feel?”

“Fine,” Maggie agreed. “I just wanted to check.”

That didn’t add up. “Why? What happened?”

Maggie didn’t answer, looking decidedly uncomfortable as if she had no idea what to say.

“What’s happened?” Erika asked again.

Maggie hesitated, more confused emotions reaching Erika. “Do you remember last night?”

Erika shook her head. “Not really.” Then her eyes widened. “All I recall is some crazy dream where Vittorio—and Ren’s—mother was the woman I’ve been sculpting. And she was evil. And there was a lizard creature.”

Maggie smiled but didn’t seem to share her amusement.

“I guess I was so tired from all the work I’ve been putting into my show that I just zonked out.”

Then Erika paused. She didn’t remember being at the gallery, putting the last touches on her pieces. Oh God…

“My show was last night, wasn’t it?”

Maggie hesitated, then nodded.

Erika put a hand to her head. “I don’t remember it.”

“No,” Maggie said, shifting from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable.

Erika groaned. “Did I just get sloshed on too much free champagne at the show? What happened?”

Maggie gave a smile that was a little sad. “You know, I think you should talk to Vittorio about all this. He’s just gone out for a few moments, but he’ll be back soon. I just wanted to be sure you are okay.”

Erika nodded, even though she had no idea what was going on and she wanted answers now. But she didn’t think Maggie was going to give them to her.

“I’ll be out here if you need anything,” Maggie said, and Erika nodded. She heard the door latch as Maggie left her alone.

What had happened last night?
She fell back against the pillows, trying to decipher what events she could recall. She’d been at the gallery. Then—Isabel called, she suddenly remembered. She’d gone there and Isabel had invited her into her huge, beautiful house and then…

She sighed. Then the weird dream.

Another knock sounded at the door, this one light, as if the person on the other side was unsure.

“Come in.”

This time Vittorio poked his head in the door. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Erika replied, waiting for him to come in.

“Are you feeling all right?”

Erika nodded, feeling a little exasperated that no one would just tell her what had happened last night. “Why shouldn’t I feel all right? Tell me what happened last night.”

Vittorio didn’t know how to tell her the truth. She didn’t seem to realize last night hadn’t been just a dream. She did know she missed her show, but according to Maggie, she had written off the whole confrontation with his mother and the demon as a strange nightmare. Like her other ones.