by Kim Petersen
‘That’s enough!’
A woman’s voice cut through the room, interrupting the grip Regan held over Lenny. Still, he grinned down at the shorter man and whispered.
‘I think it would.’
He broke his stare and turned to see Arella marching toward him. Her long legs strutted in second skin black jeans and heeled boots, while her dark glossy hair bounced against her gray sweater. Her eyes flared as she rapidly closed the gap between them. Jacques tailed behind her as she stopped next to Regan, hand on hips.
‘What is wrong with you? Do you have mental problems? Because that was some pretty twisted shit you were just saying, and to be honest, I’m worried for you.’
Regan’s brows creased. There she is.
He ignored Jacques swooping in on Lenny behind him. A smile cracked over his face. ‘I’m flattered that you care so soon into our relationship. And I haven’t even had the chance to bed you yet.’
She scowled. ‘Nor will you. Seriously, I’m sure you’re insane. Last night you think you’re the terminator and tonight you show up here, rough up my friend and talk about exploding skulls! You need to leave.’
‘You sure about that?’ Regan smirked. His eyes intensified as he shifted his head to the side, his blond ponytail falling over his shoulder. ‘I didn’t rough up your friend. He was throwing punches at me. Why do you smell like a mango slice ice-cream?’
‘I don’t smell like ice-cream, and you can bet I’m sure. Now, didn’t you hear me? You need to leave!’ she snapped.
‘Yes, you do. You smell …’
‘It’s my mango butter hair serum! Isn’t it just divine?’ Jacques intercepted, coming up next to Arella.
Regan grinned and looked from Jacques to Arella.
‘Divine indeed, makes me want to take a bite.’
Arella rolled her eyes. ‘Screw the mango hair serum! Can you leave now?’
‘Not without the seed.’
‘I don’t have the seed.’
Jacques leaned toward her.
‘Arella, its mango butter hair serum,’ he rasped.
She glared back at Jacques whose eyes fell to his toes. He shrank back a little and gave her a sheepish glance while muttering under his breath. ‘Just saying.’ He made a graceful half-pirouette and shimmied back to Lenny who was listening from afar. ‘C’mon, Pookie. Let’s sit you down and try and forget about the bad people in our living room.’ He ushered Lenny to the sofa while turning his nose up at Arella.
She rolled her eyes, before swinging her gaze back to Regan.
Regan smiled at her. She looked as if she needed a smile, and besides, he could barely conceal his amusement. He wasn’t used to women being so head strong and cold in his company. He found it rather refreshing. And those lips … He could sense the passion behind those lips.
He tore his eyes from her and cleared his throat with a husky crackle.
Focus Regan.
He looked back at her, his eyes brooding with renewed resolve. ‘You know, I can make you tell me where it is.’
I would love to make her tell me.
Get a grip, Regan!
She shrugged. ‘You won’t get very far. I don’t know where it is. I don’t even know what it is.’ She frowned. ‘What do you mean you can make me tell you?’
He contemplated her for a moment. During the time he’d spent dealing with some of Sydney’s most deplorable characters, he’d encountered his fair share of con artists and tricksters. He knew the ring of truth when he heard it, and right now his instincts were telling him she spoke the truth. But if she didn’t have the seed, then who did? And how is it the serpent god directed Vincent and Zane to her? He thought about the angel painting and the signature scribed on the canvas matching her surname. He knew there was a connection. He just wasn’t sure what that connection was yet.
He broke his stare and strode toward the huge canvas on the far side of the room.
‘What are you doing?’ Arella snapped behind him.
He ignored her as his eyes fell to the bottom corner of the painting and read the text. A. Anderson. His gaze snapped back to her.
‘This is yours?’
‘Yeah, so?’
‘You paint angels like your mother?’
Arella’s face screwed up suspiciously. ‘How do you know what my mother paints?’
He turned back to the canvas and allowed his gaze to rest on the image. As his eyes followed the brush marks and layered contours of the painting, he began to feel the hairs on the back of his neck tingle. The unusual emotions that had bubbled to the surface of late flooded through him like a raging rapid. He held his breath as he felt her behind him.
‘What does my mother have to do with all this?’ she said, circling beside him now.
Regan kept his eyes ahead of him. ‘I don’t know,’ he said quietly. He looked back at her, running a hand over his thick hair. ‘When I was a kid, the people in my coven talked about angels and how they destroyed my father. I was raised to believe they were the enemy … and now, these paintings – your painting, your mom’s painting … it’s like I don’t know who I am anymore.’
‘Early life crisis perhaps?’
He sighed and looked back at the canvas.
‘Perhaps. Or perhaps something more.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I think I know where to start looking for answers about the seed,’ Regan said.
‘Where?’
Regan grimaced. ‘The coven. We need to go to the coven for answers.’
Arella stepped backward with a flourish of hands. ‘Whoa! What do you mean, we? I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m going to see my uncle for answers.’
‘Why your uncle?’
Her eyes darted away from him. ‘Because he knows things,’ she mumbled.
‘What things?’ Regan pressed.
‘He and a black witch kidnapped her when she was a kid!’ Jacques called from his position on the sofa.
They spun around to look at him. Jacques clutched Lenny’s hand beside him and grinned up at them.
‘Black witch?’ Regan frowned.
‘Jacques!’ Arella scowled, stamping a foot into the carpet to emphasize her displeasure.
Jacques eyes widened. ‘Well, it appears we can use all the help we can get, Arella.’
Her scowl deepened. ‘We don’t need his help. I’ve got this.’
Regan chuckled. ‘Just like you had it last night when your boyfriend was eaten alive and you were next on the menu? He will be coming for you again. Will you have it then?’
She turned to face him, her eyes blazing. ‘Last night I panicked. Now I’m ready for him. I – we – don’t need your help!’
Regan began twirling about the thick silver band he wore on his thumb. It was a coming-of-age gift his uncle had given him when he had arrived in Sydney as a teenager. Vincent had made quite the ceremony when he presented the ring after a celebratory dinner, making a speech that made Regan feel important. Regan remembered how proud he felt to have earned such a significant gift from the uncle he so admired. He wore the thick silver band with pride and he had never removed it since. Now, as he twisted the smooth metal, it felt as if it would blister his skin. When he raised his chin again, he felt raw and polished all at the same time. Conflict tore through his mind as her image swam before him. He could leave now. He could walk right out that door and tell Vincent it was a false lead. He could go on his semi-merry way and forget about Arella Anderson and the seed, get on with his gangster lifestyle. Yet, something kept him from doing just that. All he could think was he had to keep her safe from Zane Crais, and that thought baffled him. He opened his mouth to say something along the lines of a solid protest when the doorbell chimed.
Jacques almost jumped from the lounge. ‘Oh my god! Oh my god! It’s him! He’s come to feast upon my well-toned skin!’ He cupped his face with his hands. ‘Pookie, I love you!’ he declared.
Arella threw him a dirty look. ‘Shush!’
&nb
sp; The room fell silent as Regan went to the door and peered through the keyhole. His racing pulse alerted him to danger as he pressed an eye toward the door and saw a young woman standing on the other side. Her face was mostly concealed by a pair of huge sunglasses while her golden-brown hair sprang across her shoulders as she pressed the doorbell buzzer again.
Regan frowned as he moved closer to Arella, Jacques and Lenny. ‘Odd,’ he murmured.
‘What? Is it him?’ Arella whispered.
Regan’s expression grew severe. ‘I’m not sure. You know that photograph of the friend you showed me at the club?’
Arella nodded.
‘I think it might be her.’
Arella began to rush toward the door. ‘Keira? Are you sure?’
Regan reached for her arm. ‘Wait! It could be a trap.’
Arella snatched her arm from him.
‘You are insane! Keira isn’t involved with Zane Crais!’
She reached the door before he could stop her and without a beat, she flung the door open. A deep sob issued out of her when she saw the figure on the other side. Her hands flew to her mouth and tears sprung from her eyes.
‘Keira?’
Regan couldn’t help question the sudden appearance of a long-lost friend. There were no coincidences. Jacques and Lenny fussed and laughed like a group of mother hens. They cried as they ushered Keira into the apartment and crowded around her.
‘Oh, my goodness! Keira, you’re not dead or chained to a bed as a sex slave!’ Jacques cried as he enveloped her in a bear hug.
Regan kept a sharp eye on the group as he prowled around them to the front door. He stepped into the dim foyer stairwell, finding nothing among the shadowy flight of stairs. Closed doors and trees sweeping against the windows between the landings greeted him with an eerie stillness. He re-entered the apartment feeling the churn of unease swirling through him. They needed to leave; he could feel it. Danger was close.
The group were clustered on the sofa now. Arella sat next to Keira, stroking her hair with a look of concern. Regan began to pace back and forth in long strides in the vast space behind them, halting occasionally to glare at them. It didn’t take long for him to decipher the situation. The newly emerged so-called missing friend hadn’t said a peep so far. She sat among them as still as an airless night, her long glossy hair falling over an expensive black dress as dark sunglasses hugged the edge of her pale cheekbones.
Regan stopped his frantic pacing and hovered behind them.
‘What’s wrong with her?’
Arella glowered up at him.
‘I don’t know! She’s probably in shock,’ she snapped. She focused on Keira. ‘Are you okay, honey?’
Keira remained silent.
Regan scowled. ‘Well, something’s not right, I can feel it. We need to leave.’
Arella shook her head. ‘We can’t leave now!’ She turned her attention back to her friend. ‘Keira? Please, say something!’
Jacques gave Keira’s hand a pat and looked at Arella.
‘I think she’s frightened. Should we call the police?’
‘No police,’ Keira said firmly.
They all fell silent and watched her as she lowered her head and slowly removed her sunglasses. Her thick lashes almost skimmed her cheekbones while she studied the folded sunglasses in her lap.
‘Keira?’ Arella went to brush a lock of her friend’s hair that had fallen over her eyes.
Keira jerked back against Arella’s touch, flicked her hair over her shoulder and flashed Arella a piercing stare. She ran a crimson-polished nail along Arella’s cheekbone.
‘It’s been a while, Arella, my angel friend,’ she drawled. Her lips parted into a sneering smile, revealing the tips of glistening white pointed teeth.
Arella shuddered under Keira’s touch. She shrank back into the folds of the sofa, blinking at her friend in surprise. Her heart plummeted to her feet while her thoughts scattered. It took a moment to process Keira’s morphed appearance. She could barely comprehend it.
Arella began to tremble. Keira was no longer the friend she had once known. Instead, she now belonged to the dark – a hybrid creature, much like the one she had encountered the night before. She felt as if her chest would crack wide open.
The apartment fell silent, broken only by the sudden intake of air from Jacques. Arella fought to regain the maelstrom in her mind. Her jaw slackened as she stared wild-eyed at her friend.
‘What happened to you? Keira, your eyes …’ Arella whispered, trying her best to hold her friend’s hostile blue stare.
Keira threw her head back and laughed.
‘All the better to see you!’
Arella scowled.
‘Your teeth … why? How?’
Keira leveled her stare at Arella. Her eyes were like ice.
‘Shabu happened to me. I did tell you about Shabu, remember?’ She smiled and shifted her gaze to Regan. ‘I see you didn’t waste any time replacing Logan. I’m not surprised. I was even beginning to question your loyalty toward the end. You were always so preoccupied with the gallery and your ghastly angel paintings.’ She winked at Regan. ‘He’s rather sexy, and much manlier than Logan.’
Arella felt her emotions begin to simmer. Keira had come here loaded with deadly daggers. She had the same look in her eyes the night they had argued at the club. It was pure hatred, and Arella had no idea why her friend resented her so much. Her lips thinned as she fought to keep her breath even.
‘Why did you come here now? What do you want?’
Keira’s sculptured brows lifted. She smiled.
‘Ah … you’re not sleeping with him? Too bad. He looks like quite the passionate one. I have a sense for these traits, you know; especially with Shabu on my side,’ she laughed.
A stream of dread cascaded through Arella. No! This can’t be happening, not to Keira! A wedge blocked her throat. She could hardly breathe.
‘Keira, I’m sorry for what happened that night at the club. I was wrong to let you leave … I …’
‘Let me leave? As if you had a choice. I was so tired of living under your angelic shadow. You with powers you can’t control. Ha! What a waste! And quite pathetic really … now I’m back with powers of my own,’ she grinned, showing off the edges of her fangs. ‘I believe you’ve met my man, Zane? He’s been busy creating a little hybrid cavalry. You see, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way.’ She leaned closer to Arella. ‘My dear, where is the Serenity Seed?’
‘Zane Crais is your man? He murdered Logan and tried to kill me.’
Keira’s lips curled.
‘Where is the fucking seed?’ she growled.
Arella flinched. Her mind convulsed as Keira’s fangs hovered too close for comfort. Time seemed too slow, her lungs stiffened. Then she felt herself shifting against the sofa cushion as Regan suddenly swooped down between them. His long burly fingers hooked around Keira’s throat like an immovable clamp while he gripped his eyes into hers. Arella sprang from the sofa, horror rippling through her veins as she watched Keira desperately claw at his hand and choke under the pressure of his fingers. He pressed his face close to Keira’s until he locked onto her bulging eyes. Her body abruptly relaxed and her shoulders slumped with the fall of her hands, her forked tongue protruding through her fangs as her jaw fell slack.
Regan’s face contorted with rage.
‘Wrong move, bitch.’ He crushed his fingers deeper into her flesh, his eyes a swirling midnight; a streaking dark star.
Arella shrieked. Her pulse raced through her body like a freight train. She looked frantically to Jacques and Lenny. They had curled together on the other side of the sofa, eyes wide, trembling hands clamped over their lips as they watched the scene unfold before them. Her eyes darted back to Keira and Regan. He had loosened his grip on her throat, yet she was as still as death as her eyes twitched and locked into his. A thick line of blood dripped from her nose. Arella wasn’t sure what Regan was doing to Keira, but she knew if he didn�
�t stop, she was going to die on that sofa. She fought to rein in the panic and gather her thoughts enough to focus the light-ray. She closed her eyes, and deliberately evened her breath as she channeled the opaque dome of light until it radiated over her. Her lids flew open as she centered her eyes on Regan and sent a powerful thrust of light toward him.
The light-ray struck against his chin, glimmering against his bristly skin. He doubled back. His eyes tore from Keira, breaking the trance he held on her. She drooped back into the sofa, spluttering and clasping at her throat. Tears streaked her make-up and blood sank from her nose and pooled at her lips.
Regan recovered fast and sprung to his feet. He turned his eyes on Arella and his chin slanted to the side as Arella was met by a black night broken only by an occasional blazing flicker. His stare deepened like a penetrating laser. Arella could see his concentration strengthen as his vision smashed and rebounded into the light-dome that encased her. A deep roar ripped from his throat. He jerked back while concealing his eyes with an elbow, then sank to his knees on the floor before her.
Arella gazed down at him. That was quite the show.
‘So, that’s why they call you the Dark Star. The son of darkness. A dark soul with stars that soar through your eyes.’
He looked up at her, his face a puzzle of change. She noticed something shift in his eyes. A new shade she hadn’t seen before. Respect? Awe? She couldn’t be sure. He pulled himself to his feet, giving her a fleeting smile. Then it was gone, dissolved into a void as his features fell into the usual ambiguous mask he wore so well. He straightened his jacket and ran a hand over the top of his hair. A few unruly strands dropped around his eyes.
‘What makes you say that?’
She shrugged. How do I know that? How could she explain the innate knowledge lending itself to her? She was about to answer when the apartment door crashed opened with a boom. She whirled to see Zane Crais waltz into the living room as if he owned the place.