The cancer was interesting. It should have killed her. All the articles said it was terminal. But clearly the girl had a new lease on life. Gabriel’s handiwork, Crimson assumed. He’d used dragon magic; there was no other explanation.
A town car pulled in front of the restaurant and the girl climbed out. She had to hand it to Gabriel; Raven was beautiful. A pang of jealousy ricocheted through her. Was this the reason she couldn’t win Gabriel’s affections? This little slip of a woman with her woe-is-me cancerous past? He must feel sorry for her, she thought. If Gabriel did have feelings for her, there were things that could be done, actions that would neutralize the girl before she became a problem.
Crimson needed Gabriel. The demons she spoke to at night told her his magic was the only way she could extend her longevity. A human witch was not meant to live forever, and Crimson was over three hundred years old. The first time she’d been meant to die was at age sixty-five from a case of consumption. With the help of a close friend, she’d tapped into demonic energy and developed a ritual to give herself temporary immortality. At that stage, the spell required only blood sacrifices of animals. As time went on though, she’d started to age. And although she repeated her ritual, the spell offered diminishing returns.
Just short of her two hundredth birthday, she’d sacrificed her first human. She’d been living in Storyville, making her living as a fortuneteller when an inebriated man hadn’t been happy with her vision of his future. His anger had turned to violence and then to lust. He’d tried to rape her before she’d reached the athame she always kept in her boot and thrust it into his gut. The injury hadn’t been enough to kill him, but it had weakened him sufficiently for her to force him back to her chamber. She’d performed the ritual, this time drawing on his human life.
That had renewed and revived her body far more effectively than any animal. She’d killed five men since then and absorbed the life force out of many a dying man’s heart. Each had provided several more years, but the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth told her she was running out of time. The ritual needed more. Something greater.
Gabriel was a dragon. Over the years, she’d heard it was forbidden for a witch to mate with a dragon, but it was ages before she questioned why. If her sources were correct, sex with him would infuse her with power, at least enough for another lifetime. The demons had promised her as much.
Of course, Gabriel didn’t need to know her reasons. No one did. As far as those around her were concerned, she spoke to spirits, the generations of voodoo ancestors who came before her. To them she was the descendant of Dr. Jean. She wasn’t, of course, although she had known him once. Truthfully, she was an orphaned child of two executed criminals, raised in a convent that might as well have been a prison. Voodoo had saved her life, as had the broader practice of magic that her voodoo roots had grown into. For all her early childhood hardships, Crimson was blessed with one curious talent: she could speak to demons, and with small sacrifices she could get them to do her bidding. They’d made her powerful, and in return she’d fed them generously.
As the town car pulled away, Crimson watched Raven slip inside the colorful cottage-like pub on Magazine Street. “Malphesidak, I need an illusion,” she whispered.
The demon seeped from the sewer like an oily snake, slithered around her ankle and ascended her body. It leached into her skin, filling her with its power. She smoothed her hands over her face and hair and shivered with the transformation. When she looked down at herself, she was a mousy and plump woman in her forties.
“Perfect,” she cooed. “Thank you, my darling.”
Crossing the street, she slipped into the front door of the bar. The Three Sisters was the type of place she would call eccentric. The walls were painted purple and cherry red with lime-green accents. There were wooden parrots hanging from the ceiling, tiki torches around the bar, and an overall ambience that would fit in at a Jimmy Buffett concert or a Tommy Bahama store. It was kitschy but homey, filled with people drinking and hugging. The smell of spilled beer, fryer grease, and candle wax hit her squarely in the face.
She navigated the crowd to the bar and ordered a beer. “What a lovely pub you have here,” she said to the young man popping the cap. “Is it always this crowded?”
“It’s the owner’s birthday. This is a family party.” The boy couldn’t be more than twenty with sandy-brown hair and freckles. She sensed he wasn’t related to the dark-haired group gathered in the opposite corner of the place.
“Oh, how nice,” she said, sipping her beer. “Are all three sisters here?”
“What? Uh… Oh… No.” The bartender laughed. “You mean the name of the place. No, it’s not named after living people. The Three Sisters refers to some ancient Greek story. I haven’t worked here long, but it has something to do with the family’s heritage.”
“You don’t say.” Crimson eyed the crowd, finding Raven smiling at an older woman who must be her mother. “What a strange theme for New Orleans.”
The bartender shrugged. “The Tanglewood family can trace its roots to ancient Greece, or so they tell us.” He laughed. “I guess they’ve been here since the late 1600s. There was a plantation in the family at one point, the Tanglewood plantation. That’s where the name comes from. It’s kind of a big deal in their family. If you’re born a Tanglewood, you stay a Tanglewood. Even the girls keep the name.”
She smiled as he moved on to fill another patron’s drink order. “How very interesting,” Crimson whispered. The demon had slithered and hissed inside her head when the bartender had mentioned the family name.
“Tanglewood,” she said to herself, testing the word on her tongue. The demon squirmed in response. It knew the name, but how? “Shh, my darling. Whatever it is, you can tell me. I won’t let the woman hurt you. I’ll feed her to you on the next full moon.”
“Excuse me?” The bartender was back. “Do you need another?”
Crimson placed the empty on the bar. “Oh no. Only one for me. Thank you.” She tossed a ten beside the empty. “Keep the change.”
She left the Three Sisters more curious than when she’d arrived. “Who are you, Ravenna Tanglewood?” she whispered under her breath. “More importantly, what are you?”
All the tiny hairs on Raven’s arms stood at attention. It was like she’d been hit with an icy breeze, and she rubbed her shoulders against the chill.
“Are you okay?” Avery asked. “It’s like eighty degrees in here and you’re shivering.”
“Got a chill,” she said.
Raven glanced over her shoulder, her gaze snagging on a woman leaving the bar. There was nothing unusual about her. If anything, her appearance was understated. Short. Maybe five foot. Mousy brown hair. Weight on the heavy side of average. Someone’s mom. Maybe someone’s grandma. There was no reason for Raven’s skin to go all creepy crawly on her. Only it did. Raven was goose-bumped and tingly. And the source was definitely that woman. Her intuition was doing a two-step with a sandwich sign that said run, run, run. Raven had never had such anxiety, and over a patron! She breathed a sigh of relief when the door closed behind the woman.
“Raven, seriously, what’s wrong with you?” Avery asked. Her sister looked worried.
Raven took a sip of her martini. “Nothing. Hungry. Tired. I’ll be okay.”
Avery glanced between her and the door. “It’s Blakemore, isn’t it? You succumbed to his siren-like charms, and now your heart and soul are being crushed by his rakish nature.”
Raven gave her a withering look. “He is not crushing me with his rakish nature. He’s not even rakish.”
“That’s what they all say. Admit it, you have a crush on him!”
With a laugh, Raven decided to throw her sister a bone. “Maybe.” It wasn’t a lie. Her thoughts dwelled on Gabriel in the most salacious ways. It was odd. She’d started yesterday locked inside a room and thinking he was a serial killer. She’d never been so happy to be wrong. Gabriel was mysterious and otherworldly, and she f
ound him incredibly sexy. He spoke to something that lived deep inside her. Not the bond itself; she understood he’d connected them by healing her, but that was an entirely different feeling. This was her need for adventure. Gabriel was a living, walking adventure. He was the breath of life wrapped up in broad shoulders and a tight ass.
“Why do you keep looking at the door? Did you invite him?” Avery asked.
Raven shrugged. “I had a feeling he might stop by tonight. It’s stupid.”
“Oh, well, he’s an idiot if he passes on you.” Avery wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed the side of her head.
The rapid ching-ching-ching of a spoon against the side of a glass called their attention to the front of the bar. Their mom was standing on a chair, looking over the heads of all her guests.
“I want to thank everyone for coming to this, my fiftieth birthday!” The crowd erupted in applause. “I never would have thought that my life would be filled with so much joy this year. My daughter is alive and well.” She raised her glass and everyone turned to look at Raven who smiled widely and raised her glass right back. “The Three Sisters is doing better than ever.” She nodded toward the bartender.
“Despite my husband divorcing me,” Avery added in a murmur beside her.
“And I am a lucky woman to be surrounded by friends who like me enough to drink my beer and eat my cake!”
The crowd cheered.
Avery and Raven laughed.
“Now, consider this a thank-you to each of you for coming tonight. Have another round. I’m going to open my gifts.” She jumped off the chair and headed for the stack on the table at the back of the room.
“She’s in rare form tonight,” Avery said. “Come on, she’s opening ours.”
Since Raven didn’t have two quarters to rub together yet, Avery had taken care of the gift buying for both of them. She tugged Raven through the crowd to their mother’s side to watch her rip into the present. Raven had been so distracted with Blakemore’s, she’d forgotten to ask what her sister had picked out. She grinned as the gift came into view. An embossed photo album. Avery had outdone herself once again.
Her mother squealed. “Oh girls, it’s perfect! And filled with pictures of Avery and Raven!” She held it up for the partygoers to see. “How thoughtful.”
Raven leaned in to get a better look. The deep cinnamon-colored leather was embossed with their last name, Tanglewood, and a circular symbol. Raven squinted but couldn’t quite make it out.
“What’s that symbol, Avery?” Raven asked.
“It’s the Tanglewood family crest, the Tanglewood tree. You’ve never seen it before?”
Raven shook her head.
“I guess Dad didn’t want it in the house. He was always so butthurt about us taking Mom’s last name. Whatever. He knew what he was getting into when he married her.”
Raven had always taken for granted their family’s tradition to keep the name Tanglewood generation after generation. But she hadn’t remembered the crest.
“Here, Mom. I’ll put it aside while you open up your other gifts.” Raven reached for the album.
“Good idea.” Her mother handed her the leather-bound book.
Now that it was in her hands, Raven had an unobstructed view of the Tanglewood tree. She gasped, her fingers trailing lightly over the crest. This was Kristina’s tree. Same twisty trunk and drooping branches. It was the sketch Kristina had drawn at the back of the catalog.
“Avery?” Raven’s voice was high and tight.
“Yeah?”
“This tree symbol, it’s common, right? You probably just picked it from Celtic stock art.”
Avery looked at her like she was losing it. “It’s our family crest. As in, drawn by our ancestors… Not Celtic by the way. It was from here, a special angel oak tree that grew on the plantation before, you know…”
She shook her head.
“The place burned down or something, including the tree. After that, the Tanglewoods were out of the plantation business and into innkeeping.” She gestured toward the bar.
“Why did I never know this?”
Avery shrugged. “I don’t know. You were sick for a long time. It’s a morbid story. Anyway, I had to upload a scanned version of it. There is nothing like this anywhere.”
“Of course not,” Raven murmured. Her head was spinning. The room felt hot, and she tugged at the collar of her shirt.
“Are you okay?” Avery asked.
She handed the album to her sister. “Um, I’m feeling weird again. I’m going to go to bed. Can you tell Mom?”
“Sure. Do you want me to come with you? Are you sick? I could call Dr. Freemont.”
“No, no. Seriously, I think I just ate something bad. I’ll be fine. Just need to lie down.”
Avery nodded, her expression heavy with concern. Raven gave her a reassuring hug before heading toward the stairs to their apartment. As if Kristina’s disappearance wasn’t worrisome enough, now Raven had to wonder why the woman had been sketching her family’s crest.
Chapter Ten
Paragon, 1698
Gabriel strolled down the hallowed aisle of Paragon’s Great Mountain Hall, elated to be witnessing history. Tonight his uncle, King Brynhoff, having ruled for two thousand years, would step down from the throne, ceremoniously passing the crown to Gabriel’s older brother, Marius.
Of course, as dragons, older was a matter of minutes, not years. The nine siblings had hatched within the same hour. Still, Gabriel was happy Marius was considered firstborn. He wouldn’t want to have the responsibility for Paragon that his brother was taking on. It was too much. Even with their mother Eleanor, her consort Killian, and Brynhoff helping him rule, Marius’s entire existence would revolve around protecting, defending, and becoming the final rule of law in Paragon. Talk about pressure.
Then again, Gabriel had trained as a warrior, both in the form of his dragon and his more common two-legged form. He and his brothers would be the ones leading Paragon’s troops in defense of the realm, if it ever came to that. Not that anyone would challenge them. No one had in thousands of years. Their realm was a paradise, loved by its citizens and neighbors alike.
Taking his place to the right of Marius, Gabriel watched his younger brother Tobias stride down the red carpet after him. By the firm set of his jaw, Gabriel could tell he was still worried about Rowan, who was less than enthused about the day’s events. Marius might be the oldest, but Tobias was the one they all trusted. Alexander was next. Through his spectacles, he seemed to be memorizing the historical banners lining the shiny black obsidian walls of the palace. No doubt he’d sketch the occasion in his artist’s journal the first chance he got. Nathaniel, Xavier, Sylas, and Colin followed in turn, the first with the grace of a dancer, the second with his hand on his sword, and the last two looking distracted, like they had better places to be.
And then there was Rowan, their only sister and the future of the race. The crowd collectively gasped at her beauty as she descended the aisle in a blood-red gown that made her look like a mountain goddess. Dragon women were rare. Rowan would have her choice of suitors and be their race’s best hope of producing heirs to the throne. Although Marius could take a consort, any children a future mate would bear would only become royalty if Rowan, as blooded queen, failed to produce young. That hadn’t happened in five thousand years. Rowan’s coronation was scheduled for after Marius’s. She was already suffering ridicule for not choosing a mate. It was a pressure Gabriel wouldn’t wish on anyone.
Once everyone was in place, the priestess began the ceremony, calling on the Goddess of the Mountain to bless Marius with the wisdom he’d need to rule Paragon. His uncle, Brynhoff, stood behind Marius, his hand on his sword. Eleanor, his queen mother, stood off to his side, hand in hand with her consort and their father, Killian.
Gabriel frowned. His uncle did not look happy this day. The older dragon’s mouth sagged, and he seemed to grow angrier with every word the priestess uttered. Gabriel
’s instincts urged him to draw his sword. He didn’t like the way his uncle was looking at his brother, the corners of his narrowed eyes wrinkled with tension. The expression on his face was something Gabriel had never seen there before, but he had on others. If he was reading it correctly, Brynhoff was… jealous.
But that couldn’t be. His mind wasn’t working right. His uncle had always wanted the best for all of them. Gabriel must have drunk too much tribiscal wine. He was seeing things. He relaxed his shoulder and dropped his hand from his sword hilt.
Brynhoff’s gaze darted to Gabriel. In that fraction of a second, a moment as fleeting and wispy as a spider’s web, Gabriel’s life changed forever. His uncle drew his sword like only an ancient dragon could. As fast as a flash of light, the weapon sang through the air and Marius’s head tumbled from his shoulders. His body turned to dust just as quickly, his diamond heart hitting the floor with a bone-chilling clank.
Gabriel’s sword was in his hand as Brynhoff turned a murderous gaze his way. His mother’s screams echoed through the hall, her ring, a bright yellow citrine, glowing like a small sun behind his uncle. She knew Gabriel didn’t stand a chance against Brynhoff. Gabriel was young, inexperienced. As Killian defended her, his mother raised her ring and uttered an incantation. Her magic plowed into him and his brethren. Gabriel’s body broke apart, and he was cast into shadow, cast from Paragon, cast into the human world.
“Nooo!” Gabriel howled, springing out of bed like an overcranked jack-in-the-box. His talons and wings extended before he was fully awake, and he shredded the corner of his red sheets. How was it that even after three hundred years in New Orleans, the nightmare and the memory could come back to him as fresh as if it had happened yesterday?
To this day, he did not know why his uncle had done what he’d done or what had ultimately happened to his mother and Killian, but he suspected his mother would have come for him and his siblings by now if she were still alive and free. They had arrived in the Old World with nothing but their rings and a quartz orb the size of a grapefruit. The orb carried a message; his mother had suspected the coup and prepared the spell to hide them in this new realm. She’d warned them not to return to Paragon and to spread out across the new land in case Brynhoff ever discovered where she’d hidden them. In his effort to maintain control, his mother’s message had said, Brynhoff would send hunters to slaughter them, the true heirs of Paragon. Staying together would make them an easy target.
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