Zauran (20 page)

“
Seithe, it's Darise.”

“
'Sup?” he drawls lazily.

“
Have you heard from Zaria?”

“
Jeez dude, I'm living on the other side of the planet and you phone me looking for your girlfriend?”

“
I have a bad feeling bro. A really fucking bad feeling.”

“
Actually, I saw her this morning. She and Phoebe met at Nikola Pašić Square for coffee.”

I scowl at the old vaulted ceiling of the lounge. “Wait. My girlfriend and your wife met for coffee,
here
?”

“
Yup.”

The black hole in my gut grows exponentially. The last time those two got together behind my back, the world changed.

“
She hid it from me. She was supposed to drop off a bunch of stock for the Pravus shop but she never showed, and she's not answering her phone,” I say to Seithe.

“
Dude, chill. She's not chained to you, sometimes girls just have to do whatever the hell it is they do.”

Sitting down, squeezing my knee with two fingers to watch the veins in my arm pop out, I speak to the floor, “I need you to find her phone. Tell me where she is.”

Seithe is silent for a moment too long, before saying, “Come clean. What the fuck have you done now?”

“
I may have been caught sucking Božena's sweet smile.”

“
When?” he demands, all business.

“
Last night. I forgot she was meant to drop the stuff off last night, the odds are Zaria saw me and I didn't see her.”

The bastard starts laughing at me.

“
Darise! It sucks being mortal doesn't it? It's like walking around with a permanent blindfold.”

“
No kidding,” I grumble.

It's true. I can no longer find her psychically, can't sense her nearness, can't smell her walk through a room, can't hear her thoughts, fucking nothing!

“
Okay, hang on, I'm walking to my office.”

“
Thanks bro,” I say, relaxing enough to slump into the comfort of the couch.

“
Right, so you want to know where her phone is because she's not answering? Correct?”

“
Yes,” I nod, shoving the fringe off my forehead and holding it down with my hand on my head.

I listen to his keyboard clicking and clacking, and then his low exhalation twists my gut into a hernia.

“
Are you sitting down?” he says.

“
Yup.”

Jesus, I'm so tense now I'm ready to pop my aorta.

“
Zaria is in Slanci.”

“
That's where Zauran lives,” I spit, sitting bolt upright, ready to go rip that fucker a new one.

“
Yeah, but Phoebe is with her. What the hell are those two up to?”

“
Meet me there,” I demand, snapping my phone shut and pocketing it.

I'm halfway to my bedroom to get a jacket and nine-mil when it starts vibrating in my pocket.

Hauling it back out, recognizing his ringtone, I answer, “What?”

“
Let's phone Phoebe first, you're jumping to conclusions Darise.”

“
Fine, phone her and call me back, I'm busy pulling on my ass kicking shoes.”

Snapping the phone shut with more force than is necessary, I yank on the black leather jacket with a hundred concealed compartments, moving swiftly to retrieve my Czechoslovakian made CZ.

Česká Zbrojovka knew how to make handguns, and as I'm a fucking mortal now I need hollow point back up.

Just as I shove it in the holster my phone rings again.

“
What?” I say on answer, sitting down and changing shoes with the phone cradled between ear and shoulder.

“
Phoebe's phone goes straight to the disconnected signal.”

Sweat begins clustering between my shoulder blades, “Do you believe me yet? Time's wasting Seithe, we need to get to Zauran Kasun's house asap!”

Laced up, disconnecting the call and pocketing my phone, I concentrate on manifesting at Zauran's property. It takes twenty times the effort it once did, but at least this ability wasn't lost to me.

In a heartbeat my ancient home dissolves and I'm standing between trees outside Zauran's garage.

A minute later Seithe appears in the driveway.

Stealth bro!

Diving out of my cover, I pssst him over, frantic someone will see him before we've cased the joint.

He saunters, uncaring.

Typical.

“
Call her phone again,” he orders as he reaches me.

Annoyed, I do as told, understanding the logic.

Last chance Zaria.

Waiting while it rings, Seithe leaves my side and advances on the garage, yanking the door up and staring into the gloomy interior.

“
Her car is here, and the phone is ringing just inside.”

Snapping my phone closed, replacing it with the CZ, I stick to the shadows, following Seithe deeper into the vacuous workshop.

Pausing two-thirds of the way in, I look at the blood, the bike, the oil. One helluva fight went down here.

Urgency punches my heart and I run for the door to the house, handing the gun to Seithe so I can call Zaria's phone again.

I follow the ringing all the way to a den.

Shit! She's not with her phone.

“
But it means she was here,” I say to Seithe as he enters behind me.

Picking up her phone, pocketing it, I yell, “Zauran!”

Nothing. Not even a bird chirping.

Fuck this.

Snatching the nine-mil back, I go bulleting out the room. I sweep through the house, top to bottom, noting her jeans in a serpentinite room and her fleece pullover in the motherfucker's bedroom.

I can't breathe I'm so pissed off.

He fucked her, I can feel it in my blood.

“
I'm going to destroy him,” I grunt, drawing in desperate pulls of air.

“
Get in line then because it looks like someone beat us to it.” Seithe grips my shoulder and swivels me to face him. “Darise, someone has my wife and I'm freaking the hell out.”

“
We need Jowendrhan. This is war, Seithe. Flat out nuclear!”

It's immediate, we both yell, “Jowendrhan!”

Nothing happens.

“
Fuck.” I'm in shock. This has never happened to us before.

Ever.

Seithe slams his arm around my shoulder and we're moving, manifesting through space, directly to Jowendrhan's apartment.

Two things hit me immediately; Božena's perfume, and more blood and gore than I've ever witnessed.

Pivoting, I take in the congealed pool, the blood spatter across white leather couches, and the bone and darkened blood stuck to the corner of the marble table.

Zeroing in on it, I inspect the clump of hair left behind.

“
Someone's got Jowendrhan,” I say, stating the obvious.

Seithe looks desperate, his hair changing to stark white, his eyes turning blue as he says, “They have Jo, Zauran, Phoebe and Zaria. What the hell is going on in Belgrade, Darise?” Fisting both his hands in my jacket I'm lifted off the ground, “What the fuck aren't you telling me?!”

*

Zaria
:

I can't believe we're kidnapped.

'For our own safety',
yeah right
.

I'm dreading dinner. This place is huge and way too lavish for my taste. It keeps me on the precarious and sharp edge of nervous.

In a home this luxurious I get jumpy. I'm afraid I'll accidentally knock over a Fabergé figurine, or a King Louis plate, or bump some fancy-smancy painting that I couldn't pay for in my entire lifetime.

It's too opulent with gildings, carvings, crystal light fittings, brushed copper pots, marble floors, burnished wood polished to a lacquered sheen, and carpets so padded you could sink to your knees in them.

It's just overwhelming, and I hate it. It's cold and impersonal; it's wealth used to disguise an empty, hollow, soulless home.

Give me scuffed wooden floors and raw stone, bare feet, and a lump of cheese, and I'm happy.

I was meant to be a peasant, it's hardwired into me.

Instead, I have to meet them in the dining room which is formal, when I'd much rather eat at a bleached table in the kitchen.

I miss Zauran.

Where are you? Are you okay? Please come back, be fine, let this all be a huge stupid misunderstanding.

Save me!

My pounding headache lances into my eyes with the increased tension of thinking about Zauran. I can't lose him when I've only just realized I've found him, inside me, in my heart. I've been in denial for months and I finally man-up just to lose him to some vigilante monster.

Which reminds me, I need to find a bathroom and use this thing in my pocket. I believe him, he has no reason to lie to me or manipulate me.

Phoebe loves me and I understand she's just being the logical voice of reason. We've both been trained by the vampyre to be suspicious.

Walking into the first guest bathroom on my way to the dining room, I close the enormous white door and turn around.

The room is dominated with a floor to ceiling mirror and platinum fixtures. The basin is one big mother-of-pearl shell, like a huge shell from back in the day when the earth still had giant seashells.

The bath is another one. It's an enormous clamshell, polished inside to reflect light in ribbons of silver and pearl. It's inviting, making me instantly crave a hot frothy bubble-bath.

Harnessing my focus, I pad to the toilet, staring at the amber resin seat and lid. Caught in the fossilized gum are specks of gold which gives the toilet a fairy dust sprinkle of magic.

This place is just insane.

Moving my hair to my back, I unzip my jeans and sit down, pulling out the pregnancy kit and yanking the wrapping off.

This is so damn ungraceful, you'd think they could think of a better way to do this.

Peeing on the white wick, I cap it and leave it on the marble vanity next to me, surveying glass cupboards housing thick cream towels marked with gold monogram, piled high inside the doors next to toilet paper rolls and French soaps big enough to kill someone.

It makes me grateful my mother couldn't afford soap that big and expensive when she washed my mouth out.

That would have been seriously traumatic.

Turning to the folded tip of the toilet paper, I stare at the imprint on each sheet. Fingering the heavy ply paper, it's thick and soft and unlike any loo paper I've ever seen. The imprint is romantic and renaissance looking. It's a heart with curlycues swirling off it.

What a shame to use this pretty paper to flush away.

Gritting my teeth I break some off, and then try and fold the edge the way it was before I used it.

The effort seems like a waste of time.

I suppose he wears cravats and a velvet smoking jacket too, when he's alone and vegging out at home.

Wow.

This is way outside of my comfort zone.

Finishing my business, I flush the loo and redress, picking up the stick and hoping it's been long enough.

Yep. There it is, in both windows, a perfect pink line to prove I am pregnant.

I agree with Phoebe though, it should take a lot longer to show up in any test, but then these men are supernatural so I think anything is possible.

I knew he wouldn't lie to me. I freaking knew it.

My knees go weak and I sit back down on the closed lid, staring at my pale image in the mirror.

Shit! I'm really pregnant.

*

Phoebe
:

This is like being on vacation at an elite resort. It's incredible!

We're all seated around a magnificent dark wood table that is so highly polished it makes the candles look like they're reflecting off a lake at midnight.

Ryan looks regal and strikes a handsome figure at the head of the table where he chats to Sveta and Zaria.

I'm next to Aisyx with Božena opposite me. For such a vast room it manages to feel quite cozy.

The buffet had everything any of us could want, and it's with heavily lidded eyes that I finish the fruity cabernet in my voluminous crystal glass.

Staring back down the table at our host, I find myself fascinated by these neuri men. They have an aura of invincibility.

Ryan is congenial and polite, and with that amazing voice of his I think I could listen to him for hours and hours and never tire of the inflections of his accent, or the way his tone vibrates as if he speaks through beams of light in seven different cords at once.