Wicked Winters

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Wicked Winters Page 15

by Melanie Karsak et al.


  I took a deep breath, “You don’t intimidate me, Mr. Bertrand.” My God, he smelled good, and I was slightly turned on but he was also pissing me off.

  “Don’t I?” His voice was barely a whisper; he ran his fingers through my hair. He leaned in, his hand on my neck and lips to my ear. “I could make you scream. In pleasure or pain. Your choice, Mistress.”

  I ducked under his arm and kicked his legs out from under him. I jumped on top, my forearm in his throat holding him down. My knife pressed into his chest.

  “And Mr. Bertrand, I could kill you. Not the kind where you get little vacation in Hell and get to come back in two weeks.” I leaned down, a mere breath away, and stared into his eyes. My voiced clipped, “I could extinguish your soul. You would cease to exist. If you threaten me again, I will make it happen. Do you understand me?”

  He stared at me for a moment then smiled. “I understand you fully.” As he spoke, his hands went up my dress, on my thighs, and he gripped my ass, pulling me down onto him – hard.

  A shiver ran up my spine. I needed to get away from this devilish man. I pushed off him.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” I opened my office door, willing him to go through it. He remained on the ground, propped up on his elbow, looking under the table.

  “This table. How long have you had it?” he asked.

  I blinked, surprised at the change of topic, but relieved by it, too.

  “1736. I had it commissioned outside of Paris.” The table was my favorite piece of furniture I had brought over to the New World.

  He crouched under the table, examining it. The wood had been intricately carved with great attention to detail.

  The imp ran his hand up the leg of the table. “Did you know the man who made this?”

  I closed my eyes for a moment, I remembered quite well. “He was the half-brother of Louis Potier, the Duke of Gesvres, but I don’t remember his name. Do you know of his work?”

  “Yes, I would know it anywhere.” He looked up from under his lowered brow. “I made it. Let me show you.” He took my hand and pulled me to him. He pressed my palm to his chest and placed my other hand palm down on the table. Ferric and I were incredibly close. I shut my eyes and concentrated on his vibrations instead of the feel of his chest. The vibrations held his essence. All natural materials held on to pieces of the past through vibration and could tell a story. I hadn’t noticed before, but I hadn’t been so close to him, either.

  “And right here, that is my signature. Ferric Bertrand.”

  “Ferric,” I repeated. I’d come across so many names over the years, they started to all run together. “Do you remember the Duke?”

  “No. I remember nothing of my human life. But now I know I was alive in 1736 and lived in France.” He sounded genuinely pleased.

  “Do all Imps lose their human memories?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “No, just me.”

  And with that, Ferric Bertrand disappeared from my home.

  The red sun peeked over the ocean, breaking through to a new day. My heels dug deep into the sand, and I wiggled my toes. I sucked in the salty air; it had become my ritual every morning since moving here. The morning was a time for renewal of the spirit. I may have been stuck in this reality for an eternity, but I would make the best of it.

  Over the last seven hundred years, I had learned things were never black nor white. Humans were never all good and never all evil. All they could do was learn while they were here so they didn’t keep repeating the same mistakes in their next life.

  There was always a next life unless they stayed in Heaven, or if they worked for Hell. It was always a choice.

  Before now, I hadn’t thought of Imps and their former human lives. I only knew them as representatives of the interests of the lower realms.

  It was an eternity they chose, but now I couldn’t get Ferric’s previous life out of my head. He was the bastard brother of my former lover. It was ironic how things turned out.

  He didn’t even remember it, nor did he know why he chose to work for Hell. Ferric was good at it; running his own territory after only three hundred years was impressive. He had been promoted quickly.

  The Imp and that past life needed to leave my mind, so I concentrated on the waves rolling in and the birds cawing in the distance. I pulled my sweater tight. It was a brisk December morning, so the beach was empty but for a few hard-core surfers and tourists.

  I stood to leave. One surfer came out of the water, dressed in a full wet suit.

  “Hey Anya, leaving so soon?” Diego said. No matter how many times I saw him, his blue eyes always caught me off-guard. His dark hair and complexion made them pop.

  I smiled, “Yes, I have to get to the soup kitchen and get things ready for the day.”

  He stuck his board in the ground leaning against it. “I’m going to a party tomorrow, want to come?” Diego asked.

  I shook my head. “No, I already have plans, but thank you.” I’d wished I could say yes, but dating humans was a thing of the past. Diego’s laugh was captivating, and he was so much fun to be around. Part of me wished I could live a normal life, but I wasn’t normal. Besides, my heart couldn’t take any more of the people I cared about dying.

  Plus, one devilish Imp occupied my mind.

  Diego frowned. “Do you have a new boyfriend?”

  My eyes widened at the question. I hadn’t had a boyfriend in three hundred years. I laughed. “No.”

  “Good.” Diego took a slow breath. The tension flowed out of him as he exhaled and he winked. “Then, I still have a chance.”

  “Do you have counseling today?” I quickly changed the subject.

  He nodded and his face fell, disappointed. “Anya, you’re no fun.”

  “We have a professional relationship Diego.”

  He shrugged, “I guess I’ll see you later.” Diego ran off to the surf.

  The wind picked up and a chill ran up my spine. I turned to look behind me but no one was there. My gut told me I was being watched.

  The kitchen of the Philostorgy House was warm and smelled delicious. I shrugged off my jacket hanging it on the coat rack and grabbed my apron and hairnet. We fed fifty to a hundred homeless every night. We had a lot of work to do.

  “Neesy made macaroni salad today, and I threw ten chickens in the oven. Do you think that will be enough?” Abram asked, my one full-time kitchen employee. His red dreadlocks were piled high this morning. I made a mental note to buy some bigger hairnets in case the health department came to visit.

  “Yes, that’ll be good.” I always made sure there was enough for anyone who came to the soup kitchen, even if it meant using magic. “I will make some rolls and greens now. Will you let me know when Ainsley gets here?”

  “Yep. I will sit in on today’s session too, if it’s okay,” Abram said.

  My look spoken volumes, he tossed held up his hands and added, “No, I’m not off the wagon. I want the others to see it can be done.”

  “I think that’s a great idea,” Neesy said, coming out of the back. She was our mother hen, a little young for it but she’d led a hard life. Neesy was a volunteer; she helped in the mornings after she dropped her daughter off at school and before her job began at the bakery down the street. We had tried to help her sister, but we’d lost her. Neesy still came every day; she said it was her way of giving to those who needed it. Maybe her dedication could save someone else.

  “I do, too,” I smiled. Abram had come such a long way. When he came back from the Iraqi war, he was broken. His wife took the children and left. He became an addict and made his way to the streets, and that’s where I found him. He got help and had been with me ever since.

  The Philostorgy House wasn’t just a soup kitchen. We had free drug counseling for anyone who needed it. It wasn’t only about feeding their bellies, but feeding their souls, too, and getting them on the right track. Many of the homeless in the area came and helped with various projects, so they were helping themse
lves while reaching out to others too.

  “Ainsley is here, and it’s a packed room,” Abram announced. Eleven had crept up quickly on us. We grabbed some sandwich platters and headed into the gathering area. My eyes met Diego’s as soon as I came in.

  He dressed in a blue sweater and jeans. “Let me help you with those.” He jumped up and took the sandwiches from me.

  I squeezed his arm, “I’m glad you came.” I spoke the truth. I didn’t know if he was here because he wanted to see me, or if he genuinely wanted the help, but he was here, and that was a good start.

  Diego’s smile could stop a semi, it was so brilliant, and his thick eyelashes were gorgeous. Even though he was having issues with drugs, I knew deep down he was kind and loving. He would make some woman thrilled one day, but that woman would not be me.

  Today had been a long day, but wonderful. Abram sitting in with the group had been a good idea; he connected with some of them. I only hoped he’d gotten through to Diego; he had been struggling lately.

  Now, I was in front of my fireplace, with a pile of laundry. I grabbed the remote and turned on some Beethoven. It went perfectly with my Cabernet.

  The vibrations in my living room shifted. I braced myself in case it was Ferric again. After yesterday, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Instead, it was a tall, blond-haired, blue-eyed Angel.

  “I thought you’d be closing at the kitchen,” said my best friend and former guardian.

  I set my wine down and looked him up and down. “I have to pull a double on Christmas Eve, so I took tonight off. Why are you in a suit?” Andrew never dressed up; he was a jeans and t-shirt kind of Angel. No matter how often I begged.

  He held out his hand, “We’re going out to dinner tonight. You need to get out more, Anya. If you won’t go, I’ll take you.” Once Andrew got something in his mind, he didn’t take no for an answer.

  My brows furrowed ignoring his hand. “I get out every day, Andrew. I go to the beach, and I go to the kitchen but that doesn’t explain why you are dressed up.”

  He shook his head. “But you aren’t experiencing life outside of that. It’s great that you are helping people, but that isn’t all there is to life. You’re wasting it.”

  “I see people every day, in my office, Andrew.” I folded my sweater and threw it on the pile of clothes. “I don’t see what you’re getting at. If anyone understands being human, it’s me, not you.”

  “Anya, all I want is for you to be happy. You’re so serious all the time. You need to lighten up and enjoy what’s around you. When was the last time you did something for yourself? See, I’m right. Let’s go to dinner, OUT.”

  “Isn’t that technically doing something for you?” I rubbed my forehead. All I wanted to do was to turn on some TV and curl up on my couch. It had been a long day, but I’d known Andrew for over seven hundred years, and he would not let up until he got his way. I knew he was trying, especially since he had gone out of his way to look so nice.

  I tossed the last shirt on the pile of laundry. “Fine, but please, no Russian food.”

  His face lit up. “I already have reservations. Go get dressed, wear something nice.”

  I was tense on the ride to the restaurant, but Andrew was happy to be driving my jeep, something he didn’t get to do often. He didn’t even mind that it was old and that the heater had quit working. We headed into the Historical district, passing all the old buildings. I protested when we slowed down in front of a French restaurant with a full parking lot.

  “Andrew, can’t we go somewhere less crowded?” I whined. It wouldn’t have been a big deal if I’d been mentally prepared and it wasn’t such a long day.

  “Anya, this isn’t crowded. Now suck it up.” Andrew was right; I hadn’t gone out in so long, not with him or anyone else. He had reservations at the nicest restaurant in town. He was a spur-of-the-moment kind of guy so the fact he had reservations was impressive. The restaurant was the opposite of the soup kitchen. Maybe that was why I felt so far out of my element and even a little guilty.

  “You look nice.” Andrew offered me his arm as the maitrê d’ took us to our table. I shouldn’t have felt so uncomfortable. I had on a little black dress and some heels; I knew I looked acceptable. I was the daughter of one of the richest families in the world, and I knew how to act and dress, even though this wasn’t my world anymore.

  “You do, too. Look nice, I mean.” I bit my lip; I needed some wine. Andrew always looked great. He was an Angel after all, and incredible beauty came with the job. Tonight he wore his blond hair down; it hung past his chin. Paired with his suit, he looked like a GQ model. That made me even more tense because everyone was looking at us.

  “We can’t stay in and watch movies all the time.” Andrew looked over his menu.

  “Says who?” I complained, but I shot him a half-hearted smile. Andrew was trying. Deep down, I knew he was right, but I had become a creature of habit.

  The server came back with a bottle of wine, 1999 Château Lafite Rothschild, extremely expensive.

  “This is from Monsieur Bertrand.” Andrew and I looked up and saw Ferric a few tables away with several Elves. A faint charming smile tugged the corners of his mouth, and he looked away.

  “No. We don’t want it,” Andrew said with distaste. The server’s eyes went wide. Embarrassed, I laid my hand on Andrew’s arm.

  “We’ll take it, and please, tell him thank you,” I said to the server and turned back to Andrew. “It’s his payment, and Ferric didn’t offer a penance yesterday.” My mind went to what he had been willing to give me. I shifted uncomfortably thinking of it.

  Andrew nodded grudgingly but drank it, he loved good wine. At this point, I needed as much alcohol in my system as possible. I cut my eyes over to Ferric. He was in deep conversation, and the redhead to his left was practically in his lap. Something welled up inside of me. Jealousy?

  I pushed Ferric out of my mind and tried to enjoy my dinner with Andrew. It been a long time since I’d had such a good meal, I was usually too busy to cook and cooking for only myself wasn’t worth it. I usually grabbed lunch at the soup kitchen and sometimes Andrew brought tacos and pizza. He didn’t need to eat but like many other supernaturals, he did anyway.

  “See, Anya, this isn’t so bad. I’ve even seen you smile tonight.” Andrew pushed the tiramisu toward me and took a sip of his coffee.

  Andrew had been the only constant fixture during my life since the beginning. We met when I ate from the Tree of Eternal life and became an Alchemist. Before that, he was my Guardian Angel. Ever since, he had been two steps behind me. Andrew was never reassigned to another person, only to the areas in which I lived. Heaven wanted to keep an eye on me. Can’t say I blamed them.

  Andrew and I had forged a friendship, which was unheard of between an Alchemist and an Angel. We weren’t on the same side. Alchemists went against this reality; we had tapped into the Universe and made our own rules. It meant our souls were pulled out of reincarnation, and we would never make it to Heaven.

  How I felt about living forever depended on the day. If I let myself think too long, I felt broken, so I kept it buried. Most Alchemists loved it; we were the ruling class of humanity, or so they told themselves.

  “You’re right, I’m not ready to go home yet. How about we go to Bayfront Park?” We stood, and he grabbed my shawl for me.

  My car was only a few blocks away, and my feet ached from the heels. I pulled them off and carried them the rest of the way, walking barefoot on the sidewalk still warm from the day’s sun.

  “Anya,” Andrew blurted, and I brought my attention to the alley to the right. I felt it, too. The vibrations coming from there were low and chaotic.

  “Stay here,” Andrew said. My thoughts went to the empty alley and how far we were from the casual observer.

  “Not a chance. Vampires? They are new, aren’t they?” He nodded; I dropped my shoes and hiked up my dress above my knees. Where there were Vampires, there were victims. Damn it, Ferric had
been right.

  The alley streetlight was black. My bare feet crunched the glass beneath me where the light had been knocked out. I stopped and brushed off the glass and blood then crept forward. I was thankful for a higher pain tolerance, but it still hurt. A muffled sound came from the back of the alley. I broke into a run. Andrew transported and made it there before I did.

  He had one vampire by the neck and threw him off a girl. I grabbed her as she sank against the wall. She had lost a lot of blood and was unconscious. The second vampire lunged at Andrew while the vampire who had been feeding hissed and went straight for the girl again.

  My first impulse was to grab my knife, but I was in a dress and had forgotten it. I cursed under my breath and jumped in front of the girl. The Vampire’s teeth sank into my neck feeling like needles. My body became paralyzed as he drank. I shut my eyes, knowing that I wouldn’t die.

  I opened my eyes, hoping the Vampire would get his fill soon. I saw Andrew across the alleyway in all his Heavenly Glory, wings and all. The Vampire didn’t look away. It slightly burned my eyes, but the Vampire crumbled to his knees in pain.

  Andrew pulled out his sword, and in one swipe, the vampire was decapitated. A moment later, the vampire feeding on me was pulled off, and I fell back against the wall. Ferric stood over me; the vampire lay crumbled on the ground, his eyes glassed over, dead.

  “Anya,” Ferric crouched down and touched my neck. “We need to get you to a hospital.”

  I shook my head and stood. Although I was still wobbly, I picked up the girl. I would heal more quickly than she would. Ferric reached down and grabbed her from me.

  “Thank you, Mr. Bertrand, but since when do imps save humans?” I asked.

  His eyes rested on me. “Call me Ferric, and just say thank you. Anya, with your permission or not, I’m going after Vladimir. You know as well as I do that he is behind this.” He hoisted the girl up and was gone.

  Andrew had put his wings away. Unfortunately, vampires didn’t turn to ash like in the movies, and we couldn’t leave a decapitated person in the alleyway for the police to find. We had to get to work.

 

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