The Cursed (The Unearthly) (8 page)

Chapter 10

It took me
two hours to finally make it back to the inn. By that time Andre had returned to his trial, and every fiber of my tired, achy body missed his presence. It seemed stupid to stay away from him when we were both in the same city. Especially now that other vampires knew I was here.

I suppressed a shudder at the thought. Getting sucked into the coven’s archaic justice system was the last thing I wanted at the moment.

I muttered goodnight to Caleb in the hallway outside my room before stumbling inside. As soon as I closed the door behind me, I made a beeline for my bed. I collapsed onto it, clutching my pillow to me. I think I moaned a little.

“Oh I see how it is
—
the bed gets a moan, but you ignore your BBF.”

I shrieked at the voice and flipped onto my back, pillow clutched to my chest. At the sound, Oliver who stood in the middle of the room, screamed as well.

He clutched his heart, gasping. “Oh my God, Sabertooth, don’t
do
that to me,” he said. “You scream like a banshee.”

“I
—
I
don’t do that?” I stuttered. “How about you don’t do that!”
Oliver is in my room.
Oliver, who I’d left back on the Isle of Man.

The door to my room banged open and a shirtless Caleb rushed in. “Gabrielle, are you … ?” His voice died away when he saw Oliver.

Oliver turned and stared, awestruck, at Caleb’s muscles. “Oh my,” he murmured. “This image is
definitely
going into the spank bank.”

I groaned. So. Not. What. I. Needed. “Oliver, stop eye-raping the beejezus out of my partner.”

“But he’s so tasty-looking,” Oliver said.

“I’m the vampire. Not you.”

“Please tell me you’ve had a nibble,” Oliver said.

I saw Caleb’s hands twitch, and I’d bet my savings that he wanted to cover himself. Welcome to my world.

“Oliver, what are you doing here?” Caleb asked, stepping into the room.

Oliver gave him a look like it should be obvious. “Visiting Gabrielle. Duh.”

I rubbed my eyes. “I must be dreaming,” I said, sitting up. “There’s no way you’re really here.”

“Nope, you’re definitely not dreaming.”

“This is some horrible nightmare,” I insisted.

Oliver sashayed over to me and pinched my arm. Hard.

“Ow!” I yelped, swatting his hand away.

“See?” he said, “Not dreaming.” His eyes strayed back to Caleb, who now leaned against the wall, looking sleepy and amused. Oliver tilted his head. “Then again …” He took a step forward, a nefarious little smile on his face.

Caleb’s eyes widened and he held up his hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Don’t even think of trying anything, fairy.”

Oliver sighed. “Damn, this isn’t a dream.”

“Seriously Oliver, what are you doing here?” I asked. I’d been so close to sleep. So, so close.

He raised his hands in the air, baring himself like an offering. “Ta-dah,” he said. “I’m your Christmas present.”

This wasn’t happening. All that is holy, please tell me this wasn’t happening.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “How, exactly, did you get here?”

Oliver waved a hand dismissively. “Ley lines.”

Ley lines. Of course. He probably trampled right through our crime scene. Fairies.

Oliver’s eyes moved over my blood-spattered body, and then he whistled. “Geez Sabertooth, did you munch on someone?” He gasped as another thought came to him. “You dirty slut!” he squealed. “You lost your V-card, didn’t you? I did
not
peg you for the S and M type, but then again, you are
—
”

“She got stabbed, Oliver.” Caleb’s voice sounded tired and surprisingly defensive.

Oliver’s expression morphed into one of shock. “Oh …
dear
.” His surprise only lasted a moment, and then he moved into action.

He came over to my side of the bed. “You haven’t even been able to clean up yet, have you?” he clucked. “C’mon sweet thing, let’s get you a shower.” He picked up my hand and gave it a tug.

I moaned and resisted. At this point, I was willing to pass out in bloody clothes.

“You sound like a zombie. Actually, you kind of look like one too …” Oliver turned to Caleb. “Are you sure she just got stabbed?”

“Meanie,” I mumbled.

Caleb folded his arms, and his eyes flicked to me. “Want me to kick him out? Just give me the word, and I will.”

“Hey!” Oliver said.

Painfully I pushed myself upright. “No, that’s alright,” I said to Caleb, “though I do appreciate the thought.”

Oliver huffed, but he was wise enough not to say anything for once.

Pulling my shoes off, I stumbled over to the bathroom, ignoring the men in my room.

It didn’t last long. “Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” Caleb asked, leaning in the doorway.

I bent down and turned on the shower. “I’ll be fine.”

“What are we supposed to do with him?” he asked.

I rubbed my forehead. “I have no idea.”

The buzzing of
my phone’s alarm woke me. I wanted to cry. It was morning already? The alarm had to be wrong; I swear I’d just closed my eyes.

When I reached over and to turn it off, I felt a warm body brush against my back, and a hand squeezed my breast.

What. The. Hell?

I made a strangled noise, and the hand squeezed tighter.

“Oliver!” I yelped, my face turning all sorts of red. Not cool. This was so
not cool
.

“Huh?” I heard the rustle of fabric as his head lifted from the pillow. “Oh
—
ah, I’m … er, touching your boob
—
ew
.”

“Could you remove it, please?” I asked, my voice strained.

Why me?
I shook my fist at the ceiling.

“What are you doing?” he murmured, removing his hand and eyeing my fist. He shook his head and lay back down. “You’re such a big weirdo.” His body shifted, and I felt something press into my back.

I couldn’t help it, I shrieked. “Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod! Morning wood! And it touched me! Ohmygod.
You don’t even like women.
” I said this last part accusingly.

Oliver squealed as well. “Geez Sabertooth, stop screaming. It’s freaking me out.”

“It’s freaking you out? It’s freaking you out!” I was officially losing it. “Well I’ll tell you what’s freaking
me
out. My gay friend has a
—
”

Oliver rolled his eyes. “It’s not like I was getting turned on by you, harpy woman. Get over yourself.”

“You were copping a feel in your sleep!”

Oliver opened his mouth, then closed it and paused, a horrified expression gradually passing over his face. “I was.” He sucked in a breath and glared at his hand accusingly. “But I don’t like boobs …” he whispered to himself.

A knock on the door interrupted us. I scrambled out of the bed and opened it, eager to put as much distance between me and that incident as possible.

Caleb stood on the other side, already dressed for the day. Morning people. “Is everything okay?” he asked. He took me in then eyed the room beyond me. “I heard screaming.”

“That would be the banshee you’re referring to,” Oliver yelled from the bed.

I cleared my throat. “Everything’s fine. Just finished getting my morning’s friendly frisk from Oliver.” I yelled this last part over my shoulder.

“Want one?” Oliver called back to Caleb.

Caleb pressed his lips together in an attempt to keep from laughing. “Tempting, but I think I’ll pass.”

“Your loss,” Oliver replied, his voice muffled as he turned over.

“Still haven’t figured out what to do with him?” Caleb asked almost sympathetically.

“I can hear you!” Oliver shouted. A second later I heard him throw off the covers. He padded over to us, clad in only in royal purple boxers with yellow fleur de lises all over them. “And I have many uses.”

Caleb’s eyebrows shot up. “You two slept together like that?”

“I didn’t think I’d get groped!” I said.

“It was an accident,” Oliver said, exasperated. His eyes flicked to Caleb. “But it will probably happen again
—
maybe I should switch rooms,” he said, eyeing my partner.

“Or get your own, moocher,” I said.

Caleb pulled out his phone to check the time. “Grigori’s going to be here in twenty minutes, so …”
So you might want to get your asses moving.
He was too polite to say that, but his meaning was clear.

“Yeah, yeah.” I rubbed my face, now remembering why I had to get up at the buttcrack of dawn. I had to give my statement.
Again
.

Just one more awesome event to add to my sucktastic winter vacation.

Boo.

I slurped down
my third cup of coffee in one of the Politia’s conference rooms.

“So do you know what type of supernaturals either of them were?” Grigori asked. Another officer sat next to him, but Grigori was responsible for taking my official statement.

I rested my hands palms up on the table and stared at them. “No, I have no idea what they were.”

Frustration and embarrassment welled up in me. I was too young and too inexperienced to be an expert on this case. At least, that’s what I told myself to feel better. A small part of me wasn’t buying it. I really wanted to prove myself wrong, and I hadn’t been able to yet.

“But when you spoke into the mike last night,” Grigori continued, “you told us you thought one of those women might be a siren.”

I nodded, playing with my coffee’s plastic lid. “At the time I thought she was. She glamoured the crowd last night. I thought only sirens had that ability, so I assumed that’s what she was. But her skin didn’t light up when she used it. And she smelled funny, like ash and roses.” Not that I knew what I smelled like. Maybe I smelled like roasted flowers.

“Also,” I added, “she told me she wasn’t a siren.”

Grigori scribbled something down on a notepad he had with him before continuing.

“And the other women,” he said, “did she have any special traits or abilities?”

My hands fisted. “Like me, she was immune to glamour, and she moved faster than any supernatural being I know of.” I stared at my nails, my mind far away. “Both women referred to me as ‘consort,’ and she also called me some name …” I trailed off as I tried to remember it. “It started with a ‘P’.” I frowned at the memory. The women were clearly fans of the man in the suit.

It went like that for another hour as Grigori squeezed out every detail of the evening. As we were wrapping up, he asked me one final question. “Why do you think they wanted to talk to you?”

I thought of the first woman’s interest in me and her strange reverence. I shook my head. “I have no idea.”

While Oliver was
out shopping and playing tourist in Cluj, Caleb and I spent the afternoon piecing together what we knew. So far, we had two random murder locations, two elusive murder suspects, and only the most obscure motive.

“At least we know now why our victims showed no signs of resistance other than the wounds on their feet,” Caleb said.

I pushed down the bile at the thought. They’d been glamoured into compliance, into offering over their lives.

“Do you think that these victim’s could’ve given their blood willingly if they’d been asked to under glamour?” The question burned on its way out of my lips.

Caleb hesitated. “Maybe,” he finally said. He glanced down at his notes. “You said that one of the suspects mentioned she was following orders. If that’s true, who do you think is giving them?” Caleb asked, tapping a pen against the table.

“I don’t know,” I said. But I did
—
or at least I had an idea. The ritualistic manner in which each victim was killed, the way the siren wannabe bowed to me, the names I’d been referred to.

“You’re not saying the obvious,” Caleb stated. When I glanced at him he held my gaze. “Gabrielle, the devil has to be behind this.”

After a moment of silence, I gave him a sharp nod, conceding to his words. “I’ve sort of been in denial.”

“I can tell.” Caleb stared at me for a beat longer. He seemed to decide on something before he spoke again. “And I know you can tell that I’ve been distant for a while now.”

Oh boy, we were going to have this conversation.

“It’s just that you were with the devil for an evening, Gabrielle, and you’re a vampire. I’ve been conditioned to see those things as threats to the supernatural community.”

I shifted in my seat. “Can we just go back to talking
—
”

“Good and evil are real things in our world, and genetically, you’re predisposed for evil.”

“Gee, thanks Caleb.”

He shrugged, biting down on the edge of his pen. Then his open features darkened. “On the night of Samhain
—
the devil had you for God knows how long. I can’t imagine all you went through. How you must have suffered.”

An image of Leanne’s empty eyes surfaced. I pushed it away. “Caleb, I really don’t want to talk about this.” I hadn’t, not since I’d given my official statement. Only Andre and the officers recording my statement knew.

Caleb leaned forward and captured my hand in his own. “I need you to know why I’ve acted the way I have.”

I glanced down at the way his hand folded around mine. The gesture was relatively innocent, but his scent betrayed his feelings.

I nodded for him to go on, pretending that I couldn’t smell his desire.

“I worried that when you came back, you might’ve … changed. And I was worried that, as your partner, I’d have to report it to the Politia.”

I froze. “You would’ve done that?”

He hesitated. “Yes,” he finally confessed, “I would’ve.”

My chest hurt. Of course I understood, but it was painful to think that he’d give up that quickly on me.

“And how about now?” I asked. “You’ve kept your distance since that night, Caleb. Do you still worry that I might turn evil?”

Caleb shook his head. “I’m not worried about you
—
haven’t been for a long time. But I am worried
for
you. The Fates themselves don’t seem to have full control of your destiny, and the devil wants you
—
something I’ve never even heard of before.”

Neither had I. But now that I had met him, I knew he did covet material things, including a woman of flesh and blood.

Caleb squeezed my hand and looked away. “I am scared for you, Gabrielle because I don’t think the devil will stop coming after you.”

He wouldn’t. Not until he owned my soul.