Gypsy Blood (Born to Romany Blood, Book 1)

by Lorrie Unites-Struiff

  “We only ones will know,” said Dragus.

  Anna rummaged through the office closet and retrieved a large cloth tote, set it on the desk next to the orb, then wrapped a heavy wool shawl about her shoulders.

  The set expression on Anna’s face chilled Rita. Uncle Dragus looked about to cry. They were determined. Both knew how to find the old house and were stubborn enough to follow on their own.

  Outside, Matt opened the back of his SUV, hoisted his black duffle bag over his shoulder, and they all crowded into the wheelchair-accessible van. Uncle Dragus drove.

  Rita worried for her family. She felt the icy-cold shooting straight into her bones from the amulet. Other than danger ahead, what more was the crystal trying to tell her?

  Chapter Twelve

  Dragus steered the van to the narrow road that wound up the hillside to the derelict mansions. A weathered gate lay on the ground, the no trespassing signs nailed to the wood barely legible. Dark clouds swept the sky, blocking the sunlight and coloring the distant hills a murky gray. The van rolled onto the cracked pavement. Weeds sprouted high between the fissures, rustling as they swept the undercarriage.

  The van crawled upward, swaying from side to side. Dragus hugged the wheels to the wild brush side of the road. The down lane offered broken cables that once protected drivers from riding too close to the drop-off. Rita crowded next to Matt on the rear bench and clutched his arm. Between the tips of scrub trees, she caught occasional glimpses of the railroad tracks and river far below. She tightened her grip and wriggled nervously on the seat.

  The mansions sat back from the road. Broken windows gaped at Rita, reminding her of Lucien’s stony, gray eyes. Porches sagged and shingles lay scattered over long, neglected yards.

  Anna reached across the back of the driver’s seat and tapped Dragus on the shoulder while cradling the tote on her lap. “Faster. The clouds are not a good sign. The sun will soon slide behind Cranston’s Peak to our west. It will grow dark earlier here.”

  “You want end up down in river? No. Better I go slow.”

  Matt sat hunched over, his fists clenching and unclenching.

  “Ma, are you sensing anything?” Rita asked.

  Anna pushed the button to slide the window open a few inches until her face caught the air. “There’s wind today, and I do smell rot.”

  Rita slid her hand down Matt’s arm and held onto his hand tight. His palm felt damp, or was it hers that was sweating? She wished it were the night before when she lay curled next to Matt.

  A jolt of their connection buzzed through her again. Rita turned and kissed him, his lips softening slightly under hers. She sensed his reined-in fear, his desperate need to finish this monster.

  They crested the hill and spotted a rusted, black van across the lot, near the edge of the slope, and under a giant maple tree. It sat partially hidden behind a thick, broken branch. Dragus rolled the transit van over the rough ground to wedge it in front of the other’s bumper to prevent Lucien from fleeing. The sun began to sink over the high, western peak, and dark clouds muted the rays of sunlight.

  Rita studied the crumbling monstrosity before them. The porch roof bowed. Two round holes in the wood siding on the upper level seemed to stare at her, sending shivers down her spine. The double front door hung askew, the veranda style porch warped and buckled.

  Anna clutched her bag and pushed the lift controls. The mechanism whooshed, opening the door, and then lowered the chair to the ground. Rita stepped out next, followed by Matt. He dropped his duffle on the dead grass and unzipped it.

  A train whistle echoed in the distance. Leaves spun and blew over the spongy earth.

  Anna tilted her head as if listening, sensing something. She looked to Matt. “Have trust in me. It is important that we all face Lucien together.”

  Tears shone in Dragus’ eyes. “Anna, please. Stay in van.”

  Anna reached for his hand. “You know destiny always wins, my brother, and we must do this together as a family.”

  Rita wanted to shove her mother and uncle back into the van and force them to go home, even if she had to carry them. But, her gut told her Anna spoke the truth. They had to face their monster from the past, and Matt would need them. Her throat clogged with fear. “I feel it too, Matt. We all have to go.”

  “Damn it to hell.” His expression grim, Matt dug into the duffle bag. He handed Dragus a HID Litebox. “I have two of these. You ladies will have to use the Maglites.”

  Examining the rectangle casing, Dragus studied the light. “This nice.”

  “Yeah,” Matt said. “It’s charged. Throws light as bright as a car headlight. Should last well over an hour. And here’s a couple of oak stakes, Dragus. Shove this spray-can in your pocket, too. It’s an industrial strength drain cleaner we’ve made into an aerosol. If you get close, go for his eyes.”

  Anna took the bottle of holy water Matt offered. “Contrary to belief, the water will only slow him.” She patted her bag. “But, I have some weapons with me.”

  Matt shed his leather jacket, the gold cross lay midway down his sweater.

  Rita checked her Glock.

  “You know that won’t work, try this baby instead.” Matt handed her a weapon that resembled a wide-barreled revolver. “Handles like a pistol, but it shoots one electrode attached to a lead. Works like a Taser. Once you hit him with the dart, he should lose control of his muscles. It takes a second to recharge, so keep the juice flowing to keep him incapacitated. You only get five pulls on the trigger before it’s out of power.”

  “Very nice. But what happened the first time you and your partner caught up with Lucien. Didn’t you use this?”

  “Yeah, my partner did. He missed.” Matt shot her a sharp look. “Make sure you don’t.”

  “I don’t know, Matt. Maybe you should keep it.”

  “No. Dragus and I will distract him. You’ll have the better opportunity.” Next, Matt handed her a sheathed dagger. She pulled it from the casing and found the weapon made of hard wood. Rita re-sheathed the dagger and strapped the scabbard onto her belt next to her cell phone. She jammed the gun into her waistband at her back. Then she pulled the amulet out in plain sight. It lay like a heavy chunk of ice on top of her sweatshirt.

  Matt chose a weapon that looked like a mini-crossbow, along with a bundle of bolts. He pulled out a machete and tucked the grip under his arm.

  A tugging on Rita’s sweatshirt pulled her close to Anna’s lips, her breath warm on Rita’s ear. “Never forget my deep love for you, Daughter.”

  The wrinkled brow, the tight lines around Anna’s mouth worried Rita. Her mother must feel guilty for dismissing the earlier claims about the crystal’s impotence. “I know, Ma.” Rita pressed a kiss to the back of Anna’s fingers.” It’s okay. Everything will work out. And I love you, too.”

  “It’s getting darker. I think we best hurry,” Anna said.

  Dragus and Matt half carried and helped Anna maneuver her chair across the lumpy earth the long distance to the porch. They lifted the wheelchair up the single step. The men heaved one of the broken double doors to the side. The heavy door screeched over the wood, tilted sideways, then crashed to the porch. A cloud of gritty dirt rose and filled Rita’s nostrils.

  Rita froze at the noise. Then, she unglued her boots from the porch, and flicked on the Maglite. She aimed the beam into the stygian hole before them. The light revealed a foyer as large as her living room. On the left were shelves, some broken, some whole. She moved her beam further down the wall. Two arched doorways swept by in the fringes of her light that led into the darkened side rooms. At the last arch, the back wall held exposed studs, the inner sheeting missing. Another arch appeared on the right and a grand staircase. Dust-webs stretched from corner to corner and hung from the banisters like black moss. On her immediate right, the solid wall held water-stained, curled wallpaper with a faded cabbage rose print. Metal spider arms dangled overhead, proof of a once huge chandelier lighting the grand entrance. Slivers of
glass from its shattered cones lay strewn over the floor.

  A bright light joined hers. Matt had crouched, set down his Litebox and blade on the floor to the right of the threshold, and readied his crossbow. Rita stepped in next to Matt.

  Anna guided her chair inside, her flashlight wedged on top of her tote, the glaring beam facing the blackened studs. Dragus set his Litebox on a shelf to the left to help encompass the foyer with the artificial brightness.

  “Grandfather Lucien, we know you are here. Come. Meet your family.”

  Rita started at the unexpected sound of Anna’s voice, her mother’s daring words. “Damn it! First the door, now you yelling.” Her glance took in all three of them. “I thought we were going to sneak up on him, take our shots.”

  “Ach. He knows we are here. Dusk is early, he can smell us.”

  Matt gave Anna a slight nod. Dragus’s eyes darted around the room while he tucked the stakes in his sash behind his back.

  A gust of wind blew through the foyer, raising goose bumps on Rita’s arms. She stiffened her knees to stop her legs from trembling and made an honest effort at keeping her light beam steady.

  A dark form separated from the shadowy side archway near the back wall and stepped into the light.

  “Welcome to my home, my Tzigan familia.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rita stepped back when Lucien appeared at the far end of the foyer. Her flashlight wavered. The lights Uncle and Matt had set on the floor and shelf threw a steady stream of white light into the room.

  Anna guided her chair forward. “Grandfather, your kind has no place among the living. Like our ancestors, we will not allow more killing to feed your hunger.”

  Lucien lifted his chin and laughed. He crossed his arms and leaned against a wood stud, his blazer rumpled and smudged with grime. “Such brave words for a cripple. And you think the four of you can stop me?” He shrugged, then sighed. “Oh, but I like this America. So many women selling their souls.” He glanced at Rita. A sardonic smirk twisted his bloodless lips. “And you, Pretty One, it is so nice of you to visit me again.”

  “Oh yeah? You might not think so when we get done with you.” Rita set her flashlight on the floor and pushed Anna’s chair out of the way, the glass crunching under the wheels. Dust and mildew filled the air, so heavy she could taste it in the back of her throat.

  Dragus and Matt stood a few feet inside the foyer, Dragus’s wide frame concealed Matt’s crossbow from Lucien. The vampire’s cold gaze passed by Dragus and settled on Matt. “Hello, old friend. I should have finished you the last time we met. I may not drink of family blood, but yours will fill me with strength.”

  “You murdering bastard,” Matt growled, bumped Dragus aside, and shot a readied bolt. Lucien swiveled his upper body. The shaft missed and thwacked like a bullet into the stud.

  Matt triggered another bolt. It embedded into the muscle of Lucien’s forearm. He grinned and yanked the arrow free.

  Rita gasped aloud.

  “You have much to learn, Pretty One,” said Lucien. “Are we ready children? As you Americans say, ‘let’s party.’”

  The crystal atop Rita’s sweatshirt sent icicles stabbing into her chest. Matt held his gold cross in front of his face and stepped forward. The vampire snarled deep in his throat.

  “Now,” Matt shouted. The two men rushed forward. Lucien met them in the center of the room. Matt grunted and clutching a bolt in his fist, stabbed the arrow deep into Lucien’s shoulder. The walking corpse didn’t flinch. Dragus, holding tight to one of the wooden stakes from his sash, had his arm raised ready to strike. Lucien lifted his knee, catching Dragus in his midsection. Dragus let out an “oomph,” and reeled backward.

  “Look out!” Rita yelled when Lucien crouched low and spun. Matt tried to turn, but Lucien slammed a fist into Matt’s back and sent him sprawling to the floor. “Fucking bastard,” Matt spit out.

  Rita’s sweaty palms held the stun pistol steady. She bent her knees to allow for angle and fired. The dart arced low and lodged in Lucien’s right thigh. He yelled and dropped to his knees. Pure rage shot from his eyes.

  “Shit!” Rita stared at Lucien. “This should drop you flat. What the hell gives?” Rita adjusted her grip and squeezed the trigger again.

  Lucien contorted with spasms and fell to the floor. He clenched his teeth, writhing and moaning.

  “Yes, yes,” Rita yelled, “it’s working. That’s more like it.” She chuckled, and held the gun steady, waiting.

  “Get him, now,” Anna called out.

  Matt and Dragus charged. Matt’s sword glinted in the light as he slashed down. Lucien rolled. Matt grunted as the blade missed and bit into the wood floor with a heavy thunk, leaving a gash where the vampire’s neck had been. Dragus huffed, lumbering after him, bent, and plunged the stake down into the vampire’s stomach.

  Lucien’s eyes widened. He kicked up with both legs and slammed Dragus into Matt. The two men tangled, stumbled backward to the open foyer door, yelling and struggling for balance before they hit the porch. Lucien let loose a menacing howl.

  Rita took two steps closer and pulled the trigger again. Lucien’s back curved upward into a rigid arc, but he grabbed the lead. “Lie still, you bastard.” The wire snapped. Rita looked at the pistol. Her heart dropped to her stomach. “This is a goddamn piece of shit.” She hurled the taser at Lucien’s head.

  The gun bounced and Lucien scrambled to his feet, the wood stake jutting from his stomach. He yanked the stake out with a wet, sucking sound. Rita gagged at the rancid smell from his wound. Growling low in his throat, Lucien snapped the stake in half. The crack rang through the room like a rifle shot.

  It took a second to comprehend the horror of what she was seeing. His rage curdled her guts. Sweat stuck to her like warm glue.

  Anna steered her chair closer to Lucien and splashed the holy water at him. She reversed quickly. He slapped at his jacket, then shrugged it off, his drab white shirt splotched with gray holes.

  “The hell with keeping secrets,” Rita muttered and stooped behind Anna’s chair. Her fingers fumbled at her belt for her cell phone. She dropped it, crawled on all fours to reach it. Hitting the speed dial to the station, she shouted their location and called for help. Lucien bellowed, shoved Anna and the chair aside and struck the phone. The casing shattered against the wall. Rita dropped flat, praying her message had gotten through.

  Matt lunged with the sword, striking sideways at the vampire’s neck. Lucien ducked and stiff-armed Matt in the chest. Matt’s teetering momentum carried him out onto the porch. The planks squealed under his falling weight.

  “Uncle, the spray,” Rita called out from the floor.

  Dragus pushed off the wall and aimed the spray. Lucien screamed and rubbed at his eyes. Dragus backed away.

  “Hurry!” Anna shouted.

  Jaw clenched tight, Rita leaped to her feet and ran at Lucien with her dagger. A sharp swat to her head threw her across the foyer, her motion halted when she stumbled up onto the staircase. She yelped and twisted before hitting a step to keep from sticking herself with the dagger. A jolt of fire shot from her tailbone to her head. Stunned, she stifled a sob and lay sideways on the stairway.

  Anna dug inside her bag. She brought out a green, square tin, opened the lid, and began chanting in the old, gypsy tongue.

  Lucien turned to Anna with a sneer on his face.

  Pouring granules into her cupped palm, she licked them from her palm, poured more, and blew them into the air. They powdered down to coat her hair, face, and shawl.

  Lucien deflected the bolt fired from the porch and took a step toward Anna. “That spell will not help you tonight, Granddaughter.”

  Dragus limped in front of Anna, grasping the remaining stake in one hand and the spray can in the other.

  “Please, leave them alone,” Rita begged. She tried to move, but fell back in pain.

  Lucien grabbed Dragus’s hand holding the stake and swung him into the wall. Dragus dropped t
he can, it rattled across the floor. Gritty soot rained from the ceiling.

  Matt eased forward, sword hilt now gripped in both hands, his chest heaving. Dragus, shaking off his daze, lagged a step behind.

  An inhuman roar filled the foyer. Rita flinched. Lucien stepped back and yanked on a stud. The beam screeched in protest as the nails ripped from their moorings. More falling grit clouded the air. He swung the board wide and swiped the two men, sending them careening toward the corner. Rita screamed. Dragus hit the doorframe and let out a loud yell. Matt bounced off the wall and fell to his hands and knees, panting for air. Dragus slid to the floor.

  Helpless, Rita took in Uncle’s face, mottled with pain, and the sound of Matt’s ragged breathing as he began running his hands over the floor.

  Had he lost his cross? Panic built inside her.

  Dragus wiggled into the corner, holding his stomach, moaning. Anna backed her chair closer to the shelves. She continued chanting, reached into her tote again, and held her crystal ball tight. Again, red smoke swirled inside the orb.

  Lucien bent, lifted Matt by the throat and pinned him against the solid wall. Lucien snarled and tilted his head. His lips spread and pulled back wide. His fangs grew long.

  Matt gurgled and gasped for air. His eyes glazed. His fists stopped pummeling at Lucien and fell loose to his sides.

  “MOVE,” a voice in Rita’s head shrieked. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she struggled to stand. She felt the shift of her spine when it cracked into place. Moving a little easier, she crept behind Lucien, stood, and plunged the wood dagger deep into his back. “Die, you perverted bastard!”

  Lucien dropped Matt. The vampire’s knees buckled.

  Rita pulled the dagger out to strike again, but Lucien’s arm swung back and swatted her to the floor. He twisted, wrapped his fingers in her long hair and tugged. “Thank you, My Pretty, for pulling it back out.”