Blood of the Sorceress Page 6

  In the meantime, he intended to enjoy everything life had to offer.

  Sid brought him a steak knife, and he proceeded to divest himself of the cast. He made a mess of it, scattering white dust and fragments all over the carpeted floor, but Sid assured him he needn’t worry about it. When his arm was free, though dust-coated, he turned it, bent it, moved his wrist and elbow. “That’s better,” he said.

  Sid and Gus looked at him as if he’d just walked on water. But he pretended not to notice, put his seat back and closed his eyes.

  He didn’t wake until they landed, and as he leaned forward to look out the tiny window beside his seat he saw a barren wasteland.

  “Where are we?”

  “Arizona,” Gus said. “Don’t worry. It gets much more colorful where we’re going. You just relax, the journey’s almost over.”

  He’d certainly traveled far, Demetrius thought. Perhaps too far for the blonde woman to track him down again. He hoped so.

  Then why did something inside him ache at the thought? He didn’t even know her.

  Soon he was in the back of another limo, with Sid driving once again, and two hours after that, give or take, they were winding through fascinating scenery. Sid and Gus were oohing and ahhing and pointing as they passed towering rock formations of rust red, fronted by acres of desert. Demetrius thought the colors were interesting. Different, certainly, but hardly worthy of all the fuss they were making. They were just rocks, after all.

  They drove through Sedona, heading north, then turned onto a side road. To the left were more of those massive red rocks. To the right, a sprawling, gated mansion where he figured some celebrity must live.

  “Well? What do you think?” Gus asked.

  “What do I think about what?” Then he realized the limo was turning toward the closed wrought-iron gate, which opened to allow it to move slowly through. The gate, he noted at last, bore two entwined N’s.

  Beyond the tall gate lay paradise. There was no other word for it. Dead ahead, at the end of the wide paved drive, was a four-car garage with a rooftop patio protected by ornate rails, and with tall glittering fabric “sails” to provide shade. The house that rose above the garage was like a small red stone palace. It had a circular painted third story and even an observatory atop that. He noticed that the driveway continued past the garage, curving up a small hill and circling a huge fountain where a trio of topless mermaids poured water from their cupped hands into a pool. Beyond the fountain was the front door.

  “Ned Nelson told me confidentially that he’s gonna have to unload most of his houses anyway,” Gus said as the gate closed behind them.

  A beautiful Latina woman was working in a flower garden. As they passed, Demetrius stared out the tinted window into her dark brown eyes, which flashed blue, and for a split second she became a platinum-haired avenging angel.

  He jerked away from the window.

  “People won’t vote for a President who seems too wealthy,” Gus went on. “He can probably keep three, maybe four, but more than that would be pushing it.”

  “So the staff...?”

  “Are paid for the next twelve months,” Sid said. “So are the taxes.”

  Gus nodded an agreement. “Ned says by then our stock in his companies should be earning us enough to maintain the place on our own. He threw in the limo, a pimped-out Jeep Wrangler and Jag. A Jag, D-man. And an expense account for incidentals. Wait, I have it here somewhere.” Gus felt around, then finally pulled a small leather ledger from an inner pocket of his designer suit jacket and handed it over.

  Demetrius opened it and looked at the dollar amount noted at the top of the first page. Then he lifted his head and blinked. “Those must be some incidentals.”

  The limo circled the mermaid fountain and stopped at the front entrance, which was just as spectacular as the rest of the place. Sid got out, came around and opened the car door.

  Demetrius stepped out and into his new life. The life he deserved. The one he’d come here for. He savored that knowledge, then turned and walked up the broad flagstone steps, passing between two pillars into a domed entryway to a pair of massive hardwood doors with dragon-head knockers. “This is living,” he said softly.

  Gus sent him a knowing look, then returned his gaze to the entrance. “It was no mistake you gettin’ hit by that car, D-dog. No mistake at all. You see that naked blonde again, you oughtta be thankin’ her.”

  A throat cleared. They both turned. Sid was standing behind them in his crisp uniform and chauffeur’s cap, with some of his carrot curls peeking out from beneath the hat.

  “What is it, Sid?” Demetrius asked.

  A small smile tugged at the corners of the younger man’s lips. “I was told to remain at your service. I’ll just park the limo and make use of one of the rooms in the staff quarters behind the garage—with your permission, sirs.”

  Demetrius looked at Gus, who shrugged.

  “How many bedrooms does this house have, Sid?” Demetrius asked.

  “I believe there are twelve, sir.”

  “That has to stop. It bothers me. Call me Demetrius, all right? And he’s Gus.”

  “All right. Demetrius.” Sid looked as if he was battling a smile.

  “I know. It’s a mouthful. So, Sid, you say we have twelve bedrooms. And how many staff members live here?”

  “I’d have to find out.”

  “Still, I don’t see why you should take a room in the garage.”

  “It’s fine, really, sir—Demetrius, sir. The staff quarters are nice.”

  “Still—”

  “I’ve stayed there before. I really like it.”

  “All right, then, if that’s the way you want it.”

  “It is, sir.” He looked as if he was about to correct himself, then decided not to. “Will there be anything else?”

  Demetrius glanced at the front doors. “No, I guess not.” But for some reason he couldn’t seem to make himself open them.

  Sid looked at the two of them for a long moment, then nodded. “Maybe I should give you the grand tour of the place, show you everything you might need to know, introduce you to the staff.”

  Demetrius sighed in abject relief, only realizing what he was doing when it was too late to prevent it.

  “Yes,” he said. “That would be great, Sid. I am completely out of my element here anyway, and this...this is just a little bit overwhelming, even though...” He turned to look at the sprawling lawns, the gardens, the koi swimming in the fountain, his heart swelling a little in his chest. It was nice here. He would have everything he had ever wanted here. “Even though it was meant for me.”

  Sid couldn’t possibly have understood, but he nodded as if he did and, reaching past Demetrius, opened the massive doors.

  3

  After five weeks, Demetrius was finally beginning to feel at home in the mansion.

  He was lying on the chaise on the balcony outside his third-floor suite, basking in the Arizona sun. Below him, scantily clad models and actresses and various hangers-on frolicked in the pool, in the fountains, in the spa. So did Gus.

  So had he, at first. And for quite some time over the past five weeks. But now he was bored. And extremely restless.

  “Excuse me, Mr. D?”

  He didn’t blink. Didn’t turn. He’d come to rely on Sid, the limo-driver-slash-man-Friday, more and more. Sid explained things to him when he didn’t quite follow them and didn’t ask questions about why he didn’t quite follow them. He didn’t ask questions about anything. Not when Demetrius had sawed off the cast on the jet. Not when he’d managed to make a starlet he’d seen on a television show appear at his front door and, later, in his bed. And not when he’d left a pile of caviar cans with holes burned through their bottoms on the ground out back after target practice with his amazing double-edged blade. Nothing.

  “What is it, Sid?”

  Sid hesitated before answering, which made Demetrius curious enough to turn and look up at the young man. Sid ha
d a caring nature, Demetrius thought. Why anyone would care about him, he couldn’t have said, but it seemed that Sid did. Or maybe that was just considered part of his job.

  “Well?”

  “I’ll get to it in a minute. First, if my asking doesn’t piss you off too much, why so morose?”

  Demetrius averted his eyes.

  “You look like your puppy just died.”

  “I don’t have a puppy.”

  A burst of air escaped Sid’s lips. “It’s an expression. You take everything so literally.” He hurried to the opposite chair and sat down. “You might feel better if you talked about what’s bothering you.”

  By the Gods, Demetrius thought, he’d made a huge mistake in telling this one to relax and be himself and not behave so formally. Sid was acting like a confidant and best friend, even an advisor.

  Then again, what harm would it do to share his restlessness with the boy? “I feel as if I am...missing something.”

  “Ahh.” Sid nodded slowly, eyes falling closed. “The love of a good woman.”

  “Oh, hell no.” He’d borrowed that phrase from Gus. It was one of his favorites.

  “A good man? But you already told me you play for Team Straight.”

  Demetrius rolled his eyes, laid his head back and ignored Sid’s attempts to draw him into humor. “I’ll try to explain, though I’m not entirely sure myself what’s making me feel this way. But...take last night for example. Everyone was raving about those steaks that Gus grilled for us.”

  “They really were amazing, God protect my heart from my love of red meat.” Sid crossed himself, then looked at Demetrius again and tipped his head to one side. “You didn’t like them?”

  “I didn’t see what there was to like. They tasted just like everything else. No better, no worse. As far as I can see, the only real variations in food are the differences in texture. Some is mushy, some is chewy, some is crisp, some is crumbly. But it all tastes the same. Some is a little bit sweet, some a little salty, but that’s about it.” He looked at Sid, saw the absolute disbelief in his eyes, the way his mouth gaped open. “Isn’t it?”

  Sid snapped his jaw shut. “No, boss. It isn’t.”

  Demetrius sat up, put his feet down on either side of the chaise and rubbed his chin. “And what about the sex?”

  Sid coughed, reached for Demetrius’s glass and helped himself to a sip of soda liberally spiked with vodka. He made a face. “Gawd, that’s strong. How many of these have you had?”

  “Six. And I feel nothing. No different. I’ve seen the way others react to large quantities of alcohol, but not me. I have a feeling this is all connected. So tell me about the sex, Sid. And be honest. What does it...what does it feel like?”

  Sid set the glass down, his face going completely serious. “Haven’t you had sex, boss?”

  “Numerous times. I should have asked, what is it supposed to feel like?”

  “Amazing. Incredible. Like nothing else can feel, so there’s nothing to compare it to. It’s like...” Sid searched his mind for a comparison, then snapped his fingers when he got one. “It’s like an earthquake in your crotch. A really good earthquake. Isn’t it like that for you?”

  “No earthquake. More like a bump, like hitting a pot hole in the limo.”

  “Oh.”

  “I wanted a life of sheer pleasure,” Demetrius said, thinking aloud. “But I’m beginning to think there’s a price to be paid for the gifts I’ve already received. I think I might be incapable of experiencing the pleasure all around me. It’s as if the curse lives on.”

  “The curse?” Sid got up. “Come on, Mr. D. There’s no curse.”

  “I know perfectly well Gus told you about me. Where I come from.”

  Sid was silent for a long moment, which never happened. Then at last he admitted, “He told me where you said you come from.”

  “I was imprisoned in a dimension of darkness and sensory deprivation. By whom, or for what crime, I have no idea. I had no form, no shape, no physicality. Only consciousness, endless consciousness. And the knowledge that one day I would escape—”

  “With the help of three witches,” Sid whispered.

  Demetrius nodded.

  “Frankly, sir, I thought Gus was a little crazy. Harmless crazy, but still, completely nuts, you know?” Sid drew a circle around one ear with a forefinger. “If you believe it, too, though—well, that scares me.”

  Demetrius searched Sid’s face. “Why would my insanity be any more frightening than Gus’s?”

  “’Cause you’re not Gus.” Sid shrugged and averted his eyes.

  Demetrius heaved a deep sigh and got to his feet, noticing that Sid took a step closer to the French doors that led back inside the mansion. “What was it you came to tell me?”

  “Oh. Right. Well, there’s a man who keeps calling. A priest.”

  Demetrius felt a frisson of fury race up his spine, and the thought that accompanied it was, I detest priests. But he didn’t know why he should feel that way. “What does he want?”

  “He refuses to tell me. Says he can only talk to you, but that he has information you need.” Sid shrugged. “I figure he’s going to try to save your soul and change your sinful ways, or maybe he’s just looking for a hefty donation. But he’s been so persistent that I finally took his number and promised to pass it along. I sent it to your smartphone.”

  “Thank you, Sid.”

  Sid sighed, started to go back inside, then hesitated. “You probably shouldn’t mention all that Underworld stuff, or the three witches or the rest of it to anyone, okay, boss?”

  “Gus told me much the same thing when were in New York. Don’t worry, Sid. I’ll keep it to myself from now on.”

  “Okay. Good. Later, boss.”

  “Later, Sid.”

  He sat there for a long moment, thinking. He wondered why he hated priests, and why one was trying to contact him now. He wondered where the third witch had gone after she’d flashed into existence in that alley—for that was surely who she had to be. He hadn’t been able to shake her from his mind since. He saw her every time he closed his eyes and in the face of every woman he bedded. She haunted his dreams, dancing exotically in ribbons of sheer fabric on the desert sands. Seducing him with her eyes. What did she have in store for him? And what was she waiting for?

  And now there was a new player in this game of his earthbound existence. A priest. Demetrius wondered what information the priest had for him and realized there was only one way to find out. So he took out his smartphone, a device that frankly amazed him with its capabilities, pulled up the text message Sid had sent and then called the number.

  When a male voice answered, deep and raspy, another inexplicable shiver crept up his spine.

  “Hello. This is—”

  “I know who this is,” the priest said. “I’ve been waiting for your call.”

  Demetrius blinked down the odd sense of revulsion that rose in him. He didn’t know this man, so why should he feel so repelled?

  It was as irrational as his fear of the woman who’d appeared in the alley. The witch. He’d been struck with such terror at the sight of her that he’d run away, straight into the path of Ned Nelson’s car.

  Then again, he wouldn’t have all of this—this mansion, this lifestyle—if he hadn’t. He’d expected the third witch’s task would be to help him make his way in this world. And in a way, that was exactly what she had done. Maybe she was finished, then. Maybe he would never see her again.

  The thought twisted his heart into a painful knot that confused him even more.

  “Demetrius?” said the voice on the phone.

  “Who are you? How do you know about me?” he demanded.

  “I’m a priest, my son. You may call me Father Dom. I know your story. I know about your time in the Underworld. I know about the two witches who helped you escape. And I know about the third one, who will soon come for you yet again. She’ll offer you something, that witch. Something you must refuse or you will e
nd up back where you started.”

  Demetrius narrowed his eyes as suspicion blossomed and whispered a warning into his ear. Despite that, he couldn’t deny the relief that had preceded it. She’s coming back. Thank the Gods. “How do you know this?”

  “Let me come to you and I’ll explain it all, my son.”

  Demetrius thought about that and decided it would be all right. It wasn’t as if a mortal priest could do him any harm, after all. He had the dagger, and he was strong. Immortal. An ordinary man couldn’t hurt him. “Where are you?” he asked.

  “I’m standing at your front gate.”

  Demetrius couldn’t prevent his slight gasp, and he was sure the priest heard it. He rose from his chair, walked to the edge of the balcony and looked down the hill. A thin, frail-looking man with white hair stood just beyond the gate. He wore a black suit with a white collar. As he looked, the man waved, and Demetrius suppressed an involuntary shiver.

  Looking down at his phone, he sent a text message to Sid.

  Man at front gate. Bring him to me.

  * * *

  Spring was coming to Milbury, New York. There were only a few days left in April, and the snow was long gone. The rains came heavily and often, but left days in between their soaking visits for the sun to reign supreme. Daffodils and tulips surrounded Magdalena’s big old house at Havenwood, and the trees around Indy and Tomas’s cabin were covered in newborn leaves, still small and pale, but growing rapidly. Much like Ellie, now nearly three months old, with chubby cheeks and frequent smiles, and red curls just starting to twist to life all over her little head.

  Lilia had grown to love it there, among her family, though the entire time she had been fighting the constant pull of Demetrius. The part of his soul she held inside her wanted to return to him, wanted to reunite with the rest of the pieces and become whole again.

  So she’d been biding her time, trying to be completely present in the moments she was given. Loving her sisters and “their” mother, her brothers-in-law and Tomas’s sister, Rayne, who was a frequent visitor. Loving her baby niece. Those things distracted her a little from the dire challenge she would soon face. But always it waited in the back of her mind like a demon to torment her nights and add to the already huge heartache of missing her beloved. When must she leave her family? Would she ever see them again once she did? Would Demetrius let her win his trust again? What if she failed?