Leticia clucks her tongue. “Who told you that? The Prendergast side of the family? It’s bullshit. All of it.”
“Why don’t you tell him the truth, Leticia?” Sophie’s voice is soft, throaty as if she can hardly wait for Prendergast’s illusion to be shattered.
“I know the truth,” he snaps. “Deveraux took advantage of an innocent young girl. He corrupted her. Turned her into a demon. Our family has lived in the shadow of the scandal for as long as I can remember.”
Leticia throws her head back and laughs. “Oh my god,” she says when she’s caught her breath. “You are delusional.” She turns to Sophie. “Where did you find this clown?”
Prendergast bristles, tripping over his words in his fervor to object. “It’s true. My grandmother wrote it all in a journal. We should have been heir to a mining fortune. Your fortune. But it was stolen and the family name disgraced. I’m here to get our money back. And to set the record straight. You should be grateful.”
Leticia’s face darkens with anger. I recognize vampire close to the surface and my defenses are immediately on alert.
She flashes bared teeth. “Your money? Would you like to know how I made your money?”
Prendergast nods, a nervous, jerky head bob that is more acquiescence to a command then willing assent.
Leticia moves to stand at the middle of the bar. “It was here. In this building. There was no family mining operation. My family disowned me. Took my son. I was run out of town, all right, but it was Boston, not Cloud City. All because I fell in love with a handsome man who promised me the world. He gave it to me, too.”
“Deveraux,” Prendergast says.
“Not Deveraux,” Leticia counters. “Another. And he brought me to Cloud City and we set up business. Want to know what kind of business, great-grandson? I ran a whorehouse. The best in the county. I sold whiskey and girls and business was good. I made more money than the miners who came stinking of dirt and sweat. They came to fuck pretty young things who smelled of lavender and rose blossoms and to drop their week’s wages into my willing hands. That’s how I made my fortune. My fortune. Deveraux had nothing to do with it.”
Prendergast isn’t ready to let go of a hundred-fifty years of family legend. “I don’t believe you. Why would everyone lie?”
Leticia laughs again, this time it’s cold, hard and completely without mirth. “Because they were ashamed of the way they treated me. Why do you think I turned to the only man in town who didn’t treat me like a soiled dove because I had a child and no husband?”
“But you were a widow,” he says.
“A grass widow,” she corrects. “Do you know what that means?”
He looks confused so she continues. “I was engaged to a man, a wealthy farmer on the outskirts of town. We intended to marry. He died before we could. But I was already pregnant. That just wasn’t done in those days. Neither his family nor mine accepted the child.”
“Your mother raised him,” Prendergast reminds her.
“After they kicked me out. And only because she hoped someday his father’s family would come around. Make him heir to his father’s land. They didn’t.”
“So you turned to a vampire?” He spits the word.
Leticia moves faster than human eyes can follow. She grabs his shirt and pulls his face close to hers, close to her vampire face. “A vampire worth a hundred of you, worm.”
Flashing teeth and yellow eyes burn with the desire to end this discussion once and for all, to end the life of this long-lost relative, to sever the ties that bound her to a human family who caused her so much pain a lifetime ago and still lies about her.
I read her intentions. She’s opened her mind to me. She’s issuing an invitation.
Inviting me to join in the kill.
Don’t, Leticia. He’s not worth it.
She pulls a whimpering Prendergast closer, nuzzling his neck. What difference does that make? He’s a meat puppet. A stupid one at that.
It’s Sophie who breaks the tension. “Don’t kill him yet, Leticia,” she says. “Tell him about Jonathan Deveraux.”
Leticia releases her grip on Prendergast and sends him crashing against the bar. He slithers down and lands on his ass with an undignified jolt. He’s so relieved to be free, he doesn’t protest.
Leticia turns her wrath on Sophie. “Listen, witch, Jonathan Deveraux is none of your business. You’ve had your fun. Impressed your friends with your little parlor trick. Now send me home or it will be the last spell you ever cast.”
“You’re wrong,” Sophie says calmly. “He is my business. In fact, would you like to speak with him?”
Leticia stares at her. “That’s not possible. He was killed. A year ago. Murdered by his wife. If I hadn’t heard that she disappeared soon after, I would have gone after her myself.”
“All true,” Sophie says. “By the way, you haven’t asked my name.”
“Why would I care what your name is?”
“You should care. I’m the one who helped Jonathan get rid of his wife—his widow. You might say Jonathan and I have been together ever since.”
Leticia shakes her head. “If he was alive, I’d know it. We had a special bond.”
“Because you were his sire?”
Prendergast groans from his place on the floor. “No.”
Leticia ignores him, eyes locked on Sophie. “You wouldn’t know that unless Jonathan told you. Where is he?”
Sophie touches the middle of her chest with a closed fist. “He’s here.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The room is suddenly colder as Leticia moves to stand in front of Sophie. “Explain yourself, witch.”
Sophie is not intimidated. “The name is Sophie,” she says, looking directly into Leticia’s eyes. “Sophie Deveraux.”
Leticia frowns. “You and Jonathan were married?”
“Not exactly.” Sophie closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, exhales slowly. “Come on out, Jonathan,” she says. “We have company.”
Silence. I don’t feel Jonathan’s presence and wonder if Sophie is having trouble bringing him back but then…
Company? Sophie, what do you mean? What did you do?
Jonathan’s voice is muted, his speech slurred as if he’d just awakened from a drug-induced sleep.
Leticia’s shoulders jump, startled eyes widening as she recognizes the voice. “Jonathan?”
There’s a moment when the very air in the room begins to vibrate with the intensity of her confusion. “Where are you?”
“I told you,” Sophie says, repeating her fist to chest gesture. “He’s in here. He’s a part of me.”
Leticia grabs her shoulders. “How did you do it? Can you get him back?”
Leticia? This time the thickness in Jonathan’s voice is more than being dragged to consciousness. How is this possible? How are you here?
“The witch brought me. She says her name is Sophie Deveraux. I don’t understand.”
I feel Jonathan’s mystification as he tries to puzzle out Sophie’s motivation for bringing Leticia to Leadville. It’s more than Prendergast, he’s sure of it. He reaches out to me.
What is she doing, Anna?
Before I can respond, Sophie does. “Don’t ask Anna,” she says, breaking into his cloaked thought. “Ask me.”
Jonathan is startled by the intrusion into what he assumed was a private exchange. It doesn’t take him more than a heartbeat to understand. How long--?
“Long enough. It’s not so hard once you understand which part of the mind to open and which part to close.”
Leticia’s impatience grows with her confusion. She’s fighting to control the vampire’s natural inclination to tear the information out of Sophie. I see her jaw tense, hear her teeth gnash.
“Sophie, you’d better tell Leticia what she wants to know,” I say, trying to ward off trouble. Leticia doesn’t know that harming Sophie will harm Jonathan.
Sophie turns to Leticia. “You and Jonathan want to know why I
brought you here? It’s simple really. I want to reunite lovers. I want you to take Jonathan with you when I send you back.”
My spidey sense starts to tingle with alarm. “Sophie, how do you expect to do that?”
Jonathan must be feeling the same panic. It’s not possible, he says. You know it’s not possible, Sophie.
Leticia holds up a hand to interrupt. “Let’s hear her out. I don’t know what’s going on, but if Sophie can bring you to me, Jonathan, I want her to do it. I’ve regretted the way we parted everyday since I left you. I was a fool to let you go. Let me make it up to you.”
She speaks the words with passion, looking into Sophie’s eyes as if seeing Jonathan reflected there.
Maybe she does.
A satisfied smile tips the corners of Sophie’s mouth as she says, “Okay. Let’s put Jonathan to sleep for awhile.” She grows still, closes her eyes, breathes in and out. After a moment she opens her eyes, releases a breath. “There. That’s better. Now let’s get to it, shall we?”
She crosses to the bar to retrieve her bag. I follow close.
“Sophie, what are you thinking? What kind of spell will separate you from Jonathan? And if you do manage to separate your essences, where will Jonathan’s go?”
She looks up at me. “Don’t worry, Anna. I have it all figured out. At first I thought I’d make Leticia and Jonathan one, like he is with me. But then I got a better idea.” Her eyes twinkle as she glances over at a still prone Prendergast and whispers in my ear. “How do you think Jonathan will like being an editor?”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Prendergast?” My voice croaks with disbelief. “You have to be kidding. Where will he go?”
“Oh, he’ll still be around. But he’s merely human so Jonathan will run the show. It will be the life Jonathan craves. Better than he deserves after the hell he put me through, but as long as he’s out of me, I don’t care.”
Prendergast is staring at us as if he realizes we’re talking about him but is too scared to find out why. I try to imagine Jonathan in that oily haired, New York urban chic metro-male persona and can’t. “Jonathan is never going to go for this.”
That brings a snarl from Sophie. “Did I say I was giving him a choice?”
“What about Prendergast? Don’t you think he should have a say?”
“Why? He’s going to get everything he wants, too. I imagine Jonathan will want to reclaim his estate as soon as he makes the adjustment.”
Leticia has been standing to the side, waiting for something—anything—to happen. Since Sophie and I haven’t moved in five minutes, and I’m shielding my thoughts, her patience comes to an end. She stomps over to us.
“Where’s Jonathan? I want to talk to him.”
“You’ll soon be able to talk to him all you want,” Sophie replies. “You’ll be able to talk, kiss, fuck. Pick up right where you left off a hundred years ago. Course some things will be different. He won’t look the same.”
The tease in her voice snaps Leticia’s ire. “What do you mean?”
Sophie’s eyes drift to Prendergast. “I’m afraid Jonathan’s physical body is gone. Now I know there’s a certain ick factor to fucking your great-grandson but you’re a vampire. I’m sure you’ve done worse.”
I can feel Leticia’s anger grow. I don’t know why Sophie is baiting her like this, but it’s not wise to push a vampire. It’s downright dangerous.
As if to prove the point, Leticia shoves Sophie against the bar. “Witch, you are trying my patience. I want Jonathan. If the only way that can happen is to place his essence in the mortal shell of that miserable excuse for a man, do it. But I warn you. It better be Jonathan in every other respect. If you damage him in any way, I will know. And you will pay.”
Leticia isn’t whispering. In fact, her voice thunders in the small bar. Prendergast catches every word. He leaps to his feet. “What the hell are you talking about?”
With two steps, Leticia is in his face. “It’s wonderful irony. You will become what you have searched for all those years.”
She leans close, one hand grasping Prendergast behind the neck, the other snaking down to cup his genitals in her palm. “I can already feel there will be some disappointments. Oh well, you know what they say. It’s not the size…”
Prendergast squeals as she squeezes. She laughs. “Just think of the perks, worm. Specifically, me.” She glances back to Sophie. “He doesn’t have a family, does he?”
“Not one he’s close to in spite of his story. A sister in Australia. A cousin in the Midwest. I checked. He does have a fiancé, though.”
“Good. A fiancé is easily disposed of.” She lets him go. “Well, witch, what are you waiting for? Let’s do it.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Prendergast’s face is crumbling, as if he can’t understand what he’s hearing and is too frightened to try to make sense of it. He shrinks back against the bar like a turtle pulling into a shell. Is he trying to make himself less vulnerable, less exposed? It only makes him look pathetic.
Sophie’s face, on the other hand, is determined, a granite mask of resolve and tenacity. She pulls more crystals from the bag, more candles, white this time. She chooses a bundle of herbs tied with a flax ribbon and sets them aside with the vial of clear liquid she withdrew earlier. She walks over to the pentagram. She sweeps away the black candles and crystals with the back of her hand. Then she leans down and draws a circle around the star. She sets out the new candles, arranges the crystals around the perimeter of the circle. She stands up and surveys her work.
“Good. I think we’re ready.”
She goes to her bag. This time she withdraws a piece of paper and turns to me.
“You’ll have to help.”
“Me?”
She hands me the paper. “Read this as soon as the crystals ignite.”
I look it over. “What is this? Latin? I can’t read Latin.”
Leticia stalks over, grabs the paper from my hand. “I can read it. I went to school in Boston when Latin was still taught. Unlike the modern educational system that has steadfastly stripped education of all that is important.” She reads the words to herself, then fixes Sophie with a warning glare. “This is a prayer for an exorcism. To rid a host of a demon. Jonathan is not a demon.”
“That’s what I said.” I can’t help repeating what I told Sophie earlier. Most of the world might think of vampires as demons, I refuse.
“Read it more carefully,” Sophie says calmly. “I replaced the word ‘demon’ with a more innocuous word. ‘Spirit’. And I changed the rite. Instead of banishing the spirit to the underworld, it will send the spirit into another human host. Prendergast’s body.”
Prendergast finally rouses himself. Color returns to his pale face. “You can’t do this. I won’t let you.” He hears what he’s saying, rubs a hand over his face, shaking his head. “Am I crazy? Is this a nightmare? I’m leaving. And if anyone of you tries to follow me, I swear I’ll—”
He gets no farther. At first I think Leticia has done something—or Sophie—to stop him. It isn’t until he clutches a hand to his chest and bends forward at the waist that I hear it. His heart thudding in his chest. Again I think Sophie is doing it.
I whirl on her. “Stop, Sophie. You’ll kill him.”
She turns wide eyes on me. “I’m not doing anything.” When she sees my dark frown, she raises a hand. “I swear. It’s not me.”
Leticia reaches him first, places a palm flat against his heaving chest. “I think he’s having a heart attack.”
“Then we need to call an ambulance.”
“No.” Sophie grabs my arm. “We’ll save him by working the spell. Leticia, bring him to the circle. Quickly.”
Leticia doesn’t hesitate. She sweeps a gasping Prendergast into her arms. “What do I do?”
“Put him the circle.”
Leticia sets Prendergast on his feet. His breathing is quick, shallow. He grabs at his left arm. “Please. I have a heart condition.
In my pocket. Nitroglycerine.”
Leticia casts a glance in Sophie’s direction. “Will it affect the spell?”
Sophie shakes her head. “I don’t think so. And we need him alive.”
Leticia searches his pockets, finally finding the small container in his jacket. She opens it and spills one of the white tablets into her hand.
Prendergast takes it and slips it under his tongue. Within a minute, his breathing has returned to normal, he straightens up. He looks around as if confused to find himself standing in the middle of a circle. “What’s going on?”
The pain must have been so intense, he wasn’t aware that Leticia had carried him from his place at the bar. He remembers everything else, though, the familiar look of panic settling over his features.
Leticia turns again to Sophie. “What now?”
“He needs to lay down in the circle. I will lie beside him. You read the ritual. Anna, you sprinkle the contents of this vial over me at the proper time.”
My head swims with questions. “How will I know the proper time? What’s in the vial? Will Prendergast feel anything?”
Sophie has stepped into the circle. “You’ll know the proper time, don’t worry. And it’s holy water in the vial. That should assuage some of your guilt. Nothing poisonous or harmful. Holy water. Prendergast may feel a tingling. But it will feel like renewal, not death. He will feel strong and healthy. That should be the last nitroglycerine tablet he ever needs.”
Too pat. What isn’t she telling me? Vampire whispers in my ear, magic always exacts a price.
“What about you, Sophie?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Worse case scenario, I’m eighty again. But I was healthy before, I should be healthy again.”
Leticia’s impatience sparks again. “Can we get on with it?”
“Prendergast, lie down.”
He tries to step out of the circle, but Leticia swings him up and has him prone on the floor before he can take a step. He struggles to get up. She places a hand on the middle of his chest. “Sophie, can I knock him out? I can cut off his breathing by pressing right here,” she demonstrates by placing a palm on his jugular.
Cloud City (anna strong chronicles ) Page 5