Impulse (Mageri Series: Book 3)

by Dannika Dark

  It was close to sunset and we needed to move because once it was dark, there was no way my mom was going to open up, even for Santa himself.

  “Let me do the talking,” I instructed. My finger pressed over the dirty yellow button and a bell clanged inside. I blew out a nervous breath when the locks turned and the smell of potpourri wafted through the screen door.

  “Yes?”

  I blinked and went into panic mode, not having seen my mother for over a year. “Hi! My name is Cassandra and this is my husband, Tom. We just bought a house in the neighborhood and we wanted to meet our neighbors.”

  Christian lightly stepped on my toe to stop my mouth from running a marathon. My mom looked weathered; she’d cut her hair and stopped dying it.

  “You keep a lovely yard ma’am,” Christian spoke up. “Do you have a gardener that you can recommend?” I skewered him with my eyes as he broke the cardinal rule of no talking until I got us inside the house. Christian normally had a slow and assured way of speaking, but he switched his accent to American with just a hint of Southern, picking up the tempo. Clever.

  My mom opened the door a little wider as she admired her yard. “I do all the gardening myself.”

  “You have the most beautiful yard on the block.” He tucked an arm around me. “When we were house hunting, it was your pruned crepe myrtles that caught my eye. Anyone who takes such good care of their home must be good people.”

  Mom beamed and flattery was getting him everywhere. Sunny mentioned that my mom had turned religious, so I thought of another way in.

  “We’re also looking for a church,” I began. “I don’t know if you… uh, are a practicing—”

  “What Cassie is trying to say is that you seem like a good Christian woman who could point us in the right direction. We’ve been so busy with the move that we haven’t had time to make new friends and find a pastor. I would be more than happy to come over and help you with some of those limbs in your tree that need cuttin’ down. You do a fine job on your lawn, but you don’t need to be doing all this manual labor. If you won’t hire anyone, then I insist on offering some time on the weekend; I have brand-new equipment in the garage just dying to be put to good use. Maybe you can help us out with a few problems; there’s a nasty mess of poison ivy near the garden hose that we can’t seem to pull up.” He scratched his arm as if he were afflicted.

  “You aren’t going to get rid of that easily. It roots deep,” my mom said as she swung the door wide and brushed her hands over her blue dress. “Come on in. Would you like a glass of tea or water?”

  Christian shot me a victorious wink, the arrogant bastard. “Tea would be great.”

  The ugly brown carpet was intact, but there were a few minor changes. Photographs were missing in the hallway and she had painted the kitchen yellow.

  “Now, you kids go into the living room and wait. I’ll bring out the tea.”

  “You have a lovely home,” I said.

  “That was rather cliché,” Christian whispered.

  I gravitated to the beige recliner when he tugged my hand, reminding me that we were supposed to be happily married. We sank into the blue sofa and I sat on my hands.

  “How long have you two been married?”

  Christian lifted a bird figurine from the end table and I smacked his hand to put it back. “Just married last month, ma’am. We were engaged for a year and this is our first time living together.”

  “I want a divorce,” I ground through my teeth.

  “You learn more about the person you’re with in the first year,” she said knowingly. My brows pushed together as I considered that remark—Mom had never remarried or lived with another man.

  She entered the room with a small tray and set it on the coffee table. I lifted the cold glass with etched daisies on the bottom and took a sip.

  “Is this your daughter?” Christian admired a small photo of a redhead on the end table. It was my tenth-grade class picture. I hated that picture because I had a zit on my nose and embarrassing high school hair. He turned around and gave me a confused look.

  “Mmm-hmm,” she replied.

  “She certainly didn’t get her Irish hair from you, Mrs.—I’m sorry, we didn’t even ask your name. How impolite!”

  “Abigail Merrick.”

  “How many children do you have?”

  “Just Zoë. She’s dead now.”

  My jaw almost hit the floor. I was her daughter, not some goldfish that she flushed down the toilet.

  “I’m so sorry; it must have been awful for you,” I said consolingly.

  Christian gave a short nod, removed his colored glasses, and stood up. “Abigail?” When she made eye contact, something switched off. “I’m going to ask you some questions and you’re going to give me the answers.”

  She nodded, folding her hands across her lap. Christian carefully sat on the edge of the coffee table.

  “What is your real name?”

  “Sandra Meyers.”

  “Years ago you had a baby.”

  “Yes.”

  “Who was her father?”

  “She has no father.”

  “What were you doing in Europe?”

  “I met a man. I had no family and when I couldn’t find work, he took me in. He wanted me to live with him in Germany. I thought it was exciting that he wanted to show me the world.”

  “How long were you in Europe?”

  “A year and a half.”

  “Did you stay with him?”

  “For a short spell. He wanted to have a baby but I didn’t want children.”

  My stomach knotted and the desire to run out of that house was making my palms sweat.

  “But he was not Zoë’s father, was he?”

  “I don’t know. She was made in a lab. Zoë was unnatural.”

  “What was the name of the man you lived with, and was there anything unusual about him?”

  “His name was Grady. He never touched me when we had sex. Sometimes he moved fast.”

  “A Mage,” Christian mumbled.

  Oh, how I wanted to roll up in a ball and die. “Can we not go into my mother’s sex life?” I chastised.

  “Tell me the details of how you became pregnant.”

  “Grady took me to a doctor in England, where we stayed the rest of the time. We lived together for less than a year and I wanted to go back home. It was too cold and he left me alone a lot. The doctor gave me injections and one day they took me to an office where I was locked in a small room with no windows. They put me under anesthesia several times and when I woke up, no one answered my questions. Grady stopped visiting.”

  Christian questioned my mom for over an hour, scrubbing the details as she revealed them. It was as if he were walking the trails of her memory and dusting a broom behind him to erase the footprints.

  “Anything you want to ask her?”

  The sofa squeaked when I stood up. “Ask her why she kept me.”

  “Why did you keep Zoë?”

  “I didn’t have anyone else. If Grady found me, I could give her to him and he might leave me alone.”

  “Did you even love me?” I shouted out in pain. She watched Christian with a vacant stare and I shoved his back to ask the question.

  “Did you love Zoë?” he asked in a low voice.

  She sat unresponsive for a moment. “I didn’t understand her. I didn’t want kids. It was a relief when she died, although I can’t remember why.

  “Wipe her memory, wipe it all!”

  I flew out of the house into the yard, walking briskly down the sidewalk.

  Halfway up the street, a black cat with multicolored eyes wove between my legs. I fell to my knees as Max slinked around my body and purred.

  “Is she feeding you, panther boy?”

  He meowed. How this cat knew me was unexplainable since I was a different person entirely. Did I smell the same?

  “It’s done,” Christian announced. Max hissed at him and flew across the street behind a fen
ce. “What’s up with your pussy?”

  “Guess it’s your charming personality,” I replied.

  “That photograph wasn’t you.”

  “I had a makeover; it came free with the Mage package.”

  “Justus was right. You do storm off like a child. Do not do that again; I’ve been instructed to keep watch over you.”

  I brushed the dust from my pants. “Justus has a complex about keeping me guarded like a fairy princess. No one knows we’re here and I’m keeping my light concealed, so back off.”

  “Done and done. Thank the heavenly angels you’re his problem and not mine. Let’s go change and see what this town has to offer for nightlife; I’m feeling an itch in my jockeys that needs a scratch.” He walked coolly toward the rental car.

  “There’s a cream for that,” I muttered.

  From across the street he shouted, “Always have to have the last word, don’t you?”

  Chapter 10

  “Give me a Vodka neat. And make it a double.”

  Christian leaned against the curve of the bar on his elbows, eyeing the dance floor like a dessert cart. “Most women order sweet, delicate drinks with fruit in them.”

  “Well, I’m not most women and I just want to get fucked up, so why don’t you go get your freak on over there in the erection section while I enjoy my drink in peace.”

  I wasn’t offended when he gave me the finger and stalked off.

  The bartender set the drink down and I knocked back a couple of hard swallows before ordering another. He lifted an eyebrow and poured me a glass of harbored resentment as I pondered the miseries of my childhood. I wasn’t just an abandoned child—my mother never even loved me. I was just something to barter with if Grady found her. Maybe she’d had a reason to be afraid, but it didn’t make the sting of rejection any less painful.

  On the dance floor, a brunette in a nonexistent skirt backed up against Christian while he gave everyone a visual of what his bedroom play looked like. He may not have liked the South, but he didn’t seem to have any complaints about the women in this town. That’s when I felt the flare of another Mage.

  “Watch my drink,” I said to the bartender.

  I walked the outer edge of the room and scoped the crowd.

  “You travel with interesting company. First a Chitah and now a Vampire.”

  I knew the voice and turned to the man leaning against the wall. His skin was bronze and his hair neatly combed back. He kept his short beard groomed but paid no attention to the unruly brows that nearly joined in the center. Marco De Gradi was an exotic-looking man, and I could see by his style and confidence why Justus would have emulated him.

  “This is a human bar, Marco. What brings you here?”

  He struck a match and lit up a hand-rolled cigarette. A bright glow illuminated his face and his eyes flashed up to mine—not at all surprised to see me.

  “It’s my bar, smoke if you wish.” His Italian accent melted off his tongue.

  "Did you know that I was close to freeing the girl you gave to Nero?”

  He blinked in surprise at my remark, waving a cloud of smoke from his face. I caught his attention because he’d mentioned her once before.

  I folded my arms and continued. “Do you think she’ll even want you after you gave her over to Nero, a sadistic monster?”

  Marco flicked his cigarette and held it away from his expensive suit. “Quit playing with me and speak your mind. Why did you return?”

  “I’m just here on vacation.”

  His fingers pinched a stray tobacco leaf from the tip of his tongue. “You’re staying in my hotel; tell me your business, little liar.”

  “Samil hired you to track down his potentials, but what doesn’t make sense is why you chose to hand over a woman that wasn’t on his list. Zoë Merrick.”

  I caught him off guard.

  Marco took a slow drag and sucked in a sharp breath. “I know who you are, Silver. Did you not think that I would eventually speak with Nero? You’re one of his collections… courtesy of Samil.”

  Panic flowed through me like a mudslide.

  “Don’t fret; I haven’t told him the good news that you’re paying me another visit. Samil never mentioned you,” he said with a lift in his voice. “Where did you come from?” His eyes shrank to horizontal slivers. Marco hadn’t made the connection that I was Zoë.

  “Who’s the dolt?” Christian interrupted.

  “Watch your tongue, Vampire.”

  Christian’s hand flew out so fast that Marco was in a chokehold before he could remove the cigarette from his mouth. His face took on a purplish hue and his eyes bulged.

  “I may not appear to be dangerous, but if you ever speak to me that way again I will tear off your head, and I have no qualms about doing it in front of an audience.” Christian squeezed harder.

  “Christian, leave us,” I said. “This is personal business.”

  I didn’t think he’d listen, but he released his grip, never taking his eyes from Justus’s Creator. “I’ve got my ear on you,” he said, tapping the side of his head as he walked off.

  “Tell me of Rena,” Marco said quietly, rubbing his neck.

  I folded my arms and tapped the toe of my shoe on the floor. “Nero took her and another girl before I could free them. Do you know where else he lives?”

  “He’s a private man and doesn’t put a return address on his Christmas cards,” he said sarcastically. “Why should I help you?”

  “I’m not going to bullshit you, Marco. I want Nero’s ass on a totem pole. If there’s any part of you that’s doing this for the right reason, then you’ll give us some information.”

  “You weren’t one of the names Samil gave me. Why would he have wasted his time with you?”

  “Because of you. I’m Zoë Merrick.”

  “Impossible!” he spat. Anger bled over his features and he used the palm of his hand to smooth back his hair.

  “Do you want to help Rena? Absolve yourself from the crimes you’ve committed and help us find the captives Nero is holding. Do you know what he’s doing to them? He kept them shackled like animals to a wall with a bucket for a toilet. His guards watched the property day and night. In fact, there’s one guard in particular who liked to pay nightly visits.”

  “Stop!” he bellowed with an outstretched arm. The hand-rolled cigarette fell to the floor and his shoe crushed it, leaving a dark smudge. “Go back to Cognito where you belong.”

  With a sharp turn, Marco vanished into the crowd. It was disappointing that I couldn’t convince him to work with us; I knew he might have information, and despite what Justus might think, it seemed worth a shot. I returned to the bar and finished my drink.

  ***

  Wavy green eyes and a misshapen face stared back at me from a pool of water. I lifted my head from a gleaming toilet bowl and winced at the sharp pain in my neck.

  “No one will ever kiss that face again if they knew where it’s been all night.”

  I leaned back and coughed, waiting for the head rush to subside. Christian sat against the bathroom door of my hotel room with his right knee bent and an arm draped over it.

  “Silk, you know. Ruined.” His fingers thumbed the bloody shirt he wore. “Justus was right, you—”

  “If you say that one more time I’m going to have it tattooed on your forehead,” I said in a raspy voice.

  “You really know how to give a man dinner and a show.”

  “Why is there blood on you?” I looked down. “Why the hell is there blood on me?” I reached for my neck. “Did you bite me?”

  “You aren’t my taste, but I thought we went over that. I was out back with the patio people.”

  I stared at him, blank-faced.

  “The smokers outside,” he continued in his thick Irish accent. “When I came back inside, you were gone. Thought you went to the toilet, so I waited by the door. Let me tell you that what goes on in the ladies room is no longer a fantasy. I thought you’d have puffy little pil
lows on sofa chairs where you lounged and buttered up your breasts with scented oils. My fantasies are ruined by the pungent smell of vomit and tramps spraying perfume on their fannies.”

  “Can you get to the point?”

  His legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle. “I did another scan of the bar. I have a way of tuning out sounds one at a time as a process of elimination. It’s a gift.”

  “Bravo.” I crawled to the sink and ran a washcloth under the chilly water.

  “Somewhere in the sea of voices I heard you call my name. You get a C-plus for effort in pronunciation, but I’m afraid your speech was off because that fecking cocktail you were with spiked your drink.”

  “What? The last thing I remember is talking to Marco. I think. Shit.” My eyes flashed up. “I left my drink at the bar. Are you suggesting that I drank out of the same glass? I never do that! Whenever I leave my drink I always—” I snapped my mouth shut, remembering how upset I was. Not just about Marco, but my mom. Yeah, I probably was stupid enough to sit back down and polish it off.

  “He got you all the way to the parking lot.”

  “Who?” My hands trembled a little bit.

  “The unassuming rapist who hangs out at the bar looking for easy prey. From the state of his face, I could see that you didn’t need much help. Poor bastard.” Christian smirked.

  “Then why are you wearing his blood?”

  He watched me with dull eyes and lifted a shoulder. “I never turn down a free drink.”

  Scratch that off the list of things I wanted to bring up with Justus about our trip.

  “Why didn’t Marco knock you out with his light when you were roughing him up?”

  “Justus shelters you too much. Doesn’t work on Vampires, lass. Think of me like a big sponge.” A crooked grin slanted up. “And the ladies like to loofah.”

  “If you’re stronger than us and our power has no effect on you, why should we bother with the sunglasses?”