Doomed

by Jayde Scott

"I can feel it."

  "It's that easy to recognise the bond then?" She walked over to the stone ovens stretching from the floor almost to the ceiling and peered inside at the leaping flames mumbling, "Almost ready."

  Following her line of vision, I noticed large baking trays with cupcakes, cookies and what else not peering from between the flames. "When did you learn to do all of this? Last time I remember you didn't even know how to boil an egg."

  She smiled. "Honestly, most of the time I've no idea what I'm doing." She pointed at the large, leather bound book covering half of a counter. "I just toss all ingredients a bowl, pour the dough into a tray and slip it into the oven. After half an hour, I take it out and everything tastes marvellous. This is my new caramel covered hot bun with raisins. Try it." She tossed a large brown thing with white sprinkling my way. I took a tentative bite. It was surprisingly good, and then the slightest aroma of chilli tickled my taste buds.

  "Are there chocolate chips in here?" I asked.

  She nodded, amused. "With a soft chilli cranberry filling. Don't ask me how I did it."

  I took another bite, bobbing my head appreciatively, then put the muffin aside. "Are you happy?"

  For a brief second, I saw sadness in her eyes. "As happy as one can be."

  "Have you ever tried running?"

  "Once." She shook her head. "And never again, that's for sure."

  "What happened?"

  Patty moistened her lips, her gaze a million miles away. "I was fed up with this place so I packed a suitcase and walked out the door with Prince Rasputin in a kitty-cat carrier. When I entered town something strange happened."

  My eyes widened. "What?"

  "People glared and their voices throttled into deep, menacing growls, like they were possessed or something. A woman lurched at me with a butcher knife. Some guy tried to take down Prince Rasputin and me with a hammer. I was scared to death."

  Inching forward, I squeezed her hand sympathetically. "Patty, that's horrible."

  She nodded. "Yeah, you could say that. The entire town was after me!"

  "But you're immortal. How can a human kill you?" I asked.

  "Like you, I’m not eighteen yet. Without any powers, any mortal can behead me."

  That was one wicked curse. "How did you escape?"

  "I knew what I had to do. Come back here to my sanctuary, my prison. I jumped in my car when people piled on my hood and banged on my windows. It was like Night of the Living Dead up-close and personal. I barely escaped with my life." She swallowed. "If I or Prince Rasputin take one step out that door, any human outside becomes possessed and wants to kill us."

  I grabbed her hand, forcing her to look at me as I whispered, "I'll break this curse. I swear I'll find your destined love for you, but for that you'll have to give me your blessing."

  "I'll give you my blessing anyway, Cass. You know that. Just promise you'll stay a bit longer. I've had enough of talking to a cat all day."

  "Prince Rasputin's a demon."

  She smirked. "A cat's more talkative." One of the ovens beeped.

  Clearing her throat, she walked over and opened the door. The flames retreated, revealing a thin layer of grey ash and four perfectly round tiers in various sizes.

  "A wedding cake? I'm impressed."

  "People from all over the world have been ordering here for centuries. I'm working my butt off fourteen hours a day, seven days a week. And for what?" A dangerous glint shimmered in her eyes. "So the last spark of hope in me doesn't die like a burned out candle."

  "You should've told me. I could've helped," I said, softly.

  She shook her head. "No. This is my battle to fight. You'll get to fight yours soon enough."

  Not if I managed to avoid it. We returned with the tray, plates and hot chocolate to the living room. Patricia and Dallas engaged in small talk about the world outside as I tuned out with Dallas's fingers tracing circles in my palm. The cakes were even better than I anticipated. No wonder Patricia was so busy, which gave me an idea.

  I pulled out a scroll and started scribbling my terms because in our family, nothing's fixed unless it's written down, preferably with one's signature chiselled in stone.

  "So, I sort of stalked her, and the next day we moved in together." Dallas shot me a smile.

  "I would've been freaked out," Patricia said. "Actually, anyone else would've been. She must've seen something special in you."

  "You bet I did." I pushed the scroll and a pen toward her. "I know you agreed already, but I'd rather have it in writing if you don't mind."

  She started to read, bobbing her head as she moved from one point to the next. "A TV show? I'd rather not, Cass. I'm busy already without the extra advertising."

  I leaned back, regarding her coolly. "If you want to find him, you'd better get your picture out there."

  "Find who?" Dallas asked. Patricia put the scroll aside and took another bite of her muffin.

  I peered at her, amused. "Someone who'd better hurry come knocking on her door before she turns into a chocolate cupcake herself."

  "That's mean." Grinning, she dropped the muffing onto her plate. "I see your point. You'll have my written agreement by tomorrow."

  I'd rather have it tonight, but rushing anyone in my family would get me nowhere, so I shrugged. "Sure. Take your time." Obviously, I didn't mean that part.

  Outside, a full moon rose against the canvass of a starry night.

  We spent another hour chatting, then retreated to the privacy of our bedrooms with their flowery wallpapers and comfortable bedding. We didn't get to share a room, which was probably Dad's doing, but that didn't stop us from engaging in some serious smooching before we said goodnight. I went to bed lightheaded, my skin still tingling from Dallas's soft kisses.

  I'd barely managed to close my eyes and catch some snooze when the presence of a shadow woke me up again. Disoriented, I jumped up and headed for the kitchen in my sleepwear, barely able to resist the sudden urge of pushing some cupcakes into the preheated oven. I was never one to cook in the kitchen. Since I'd pick a microwave any day versus slaving away over a home cooked meal, I knew something was definitely wrong with this picture.

  Patricia was already there, moving around at a swift pace.

  Sleep-drunken, she barely peered at me as I sat at the kitchen table and rubbed my aching head. A moment later, footsteps thudded down the stairs, and Dallas appeared in the doorway with hooded eyes and his hair in disarray, murmuring, "I want to help roll out the dough."

  "Do you know what time it is?" I asked him.

  "Can't sleep. Just want to help. So how do we make the batter?"

  "This is barbaric," I muttered, fighting the urge to grab a bowl and help Dallas.

  "What's happening?" Dallas asked. "I want to cook. I need to cook...to bake...right now."

  Patricia stopped only long enough to wipe beads of sweat off her forehead, then resumed her work routine. "The curse is making us a slave to this kitchen and to baking." Her voice came so low I wasn't sure I heard right.

  "I'm nobody's slave." I grabbed a bag of flour and poured it into a giant, wooden mixing bowl while Dallas cracked two eggs. My words said I wasn't a slave, yet I was.

  "I'm so tired, I need fresh air." Groaning, Dallas moved to the backdoor and yanked it open. A strong gust of wind blew in. The fires sputter. A spiral, like a black veil, whirred around us, hissing in our ears.

  "What are you doing?" Patricia yelled. "Close it. Close it now!"

  I peered from her furious face to Dallas's dumbfounded expression, then back to her. The wind wafted through the kitchen, blowing out one of the fires.

  "Don’t let Prince Rasputin get out." Patricia screamed and made a dash for the door, tripping on a blob of dough on the floor. I hurried to catch her fall, but it was too late. With a thud, she landed on her tummy, her arm hanging out the doorway into the shimmery snow. A deep menacing growl echoed in the darkness behind me. I spun around and met Dallas's eerie black eyes.

  "Get
him away from me," Patricia screeched.

  Like a zombie, Dallas moved forward, reaching her in a few long strides. His face looked like a distorted mask of anger, no longer resembling the charming guy I fell in love with.

  "Get him away from me," Patricia screeched.

  Like a zombie, Dallas moved forward, reaching her in a few long strides. His face looked like a distorted mask of anger, no longer resembling the charming guy I fell in love with.

  "Cass!" Patricia screamed, sliding across the floor into the snow outside.

  Dallas let out another growl and lunged at her, grabbing her neck in a deadly grip.

  Do something. He's killing her, Pinky yelled in my ear.

  I didn't understand. Why would he do that? Yesterday, it seemed as though they got along like a house on fire, and today they were trying to kill each other. That didn't make any sense.

  It's the curse, Kinky said, coolly. Surely, you put two and two together by now.

  My brain kicked into motion. I had to come up with a plan, and pronto. I peered around, considering my options. Whacking him over the head with something was out of the question since I still needed my fiancé to marry me. The phone was in my room, so beaming him out of here wasn't an option either.

  "Babe, stop it," I yelled. If he could hear me, he didn't respond.

  Patricia struggled in his iron grip, pushing against his broad chest, as she gasped for air.

  Talking a possessed guy out of his killing ambitions is your plan?

  Kinky snorted.

  "Obviously not." I closed my eyes and focused on Dallas, calling on my inner powers that had been lying dormant ever since my birth.

  The air around me stirred. Excitement washed over me. My breath caught in my throat. For the first time ever, it was working, or so I hoped.

  Stop wasting time, Pinky cried. Do something, Cass.

  Patricia's ear-piercing scream ended in a gurgling sound. Was he strangling her? I pried an eye open, disturbing my concentration. He was strangling my aunt, and quite successfully. I watched in horror her eyes turning in their sockets. Enough of my affable nature already. It was time to act.

  With a shriek, I jumped on Dallas's back and covered his eyes.

  His breath came in short, angry heaps. He turned like a raging bull, trying to shake me off. Clenching my teeth, I held on for dear life. I didn't know how long I could keep my grip on him. Dallas was a big, strong guy. He might throw me off any minute. I'd rather he didn't because from this height it looked like it might be an uncomfortable fall.

  "Patty, get inside. Move it!" I shouted.

  She made another gurgling sound as she pushed up on her knees and shuffled across the floor toward a kitchen counter, hiding behind it as if that could ward off a raging maniac.

  A roar rippled through Dallas's chest. My arms turned to jelly, my whole body ached. I was going to take a tumble any second. And then he stopped struggling. I held my breath, unsure whether he was just bluffing.

  "Cass?" His voice was anxious, questioning.

  "Yes?"

  "What are you doing?"

  He was asking me what I was doing? "You don't know?"

  "I think he's all right now," Patricia whispered.

  "I figured that much." Sighing, I jumped off his back but my muscles remained tense just in case he decided to resume his killing.

  Patricia appeared from behind the counter and slapped his shoulder. "What the heck's wrong with you? You almost killed me."

  He frowned, confused. "What did I do? I just came down for breakfast."

  "Leave Dallas alone. He didn't mean it." I rolled my eyes and intertwined my fingers with his. "You should know better than to venture out that door."

  "I had to close the door so Prince Rasputin wouldn't run away.

  He wouldn't stand a chance outside these doors," Patricia hissed.

  "You'd do the same for that dangerous Hell hound you love so much."

  Dallas cocked a brow.

  "A pit bull," I explained. "And he's a sweetie."

  Patricia snorted. "To you. Everyone else hates him. There's no way you'd stand by and watch him die."

  "Good point." I loved that dog to death, red eyes and all. "The more reason to sign that scroll so we can get on with that campaign."

  She raised her chin defiantly, eyes glinting. "You did it on purpose."

  "What?" I laughed. "You think I persuaded my fiancé to kill you so you'd sign my plea. This is ridiculous. You're nuts. All that sugar must've messed with your brain cells."

  She regarded me in silence.

  "Cass, what's this about?" Dallas asked.

  "The curse says I can't leave the house," Patricia said, ignoring him. "I didn't, so your little performance must be part of your scheme to get my approval."

  She's not the brightest star, is she? Kinky said.

  Annoyed, I retrieved the scroll from the counter and waved it in Patricia's face. "Switch on your brain, mate. If you can't leave the house, neither can your body parts."

  She shook her head. "You're bluffing."

  I shrugged. "Let's try it on the first customer then. Hold your arm out of the window."

  For a moment, we stared at each other in silence.

  "Give me that scroll then," Patricia said, snatching it out of my hands. I could barely breathe as she stretched it on the counter and signed below my handwriting, then handed it back to me. "Promise me you'll do everything in your power to find him. I don’t want to stay here."

  Smiling, I nodded. "You have my word."

  She grinned back. "Can I have it in writing?"

  "What the heck was that all about?" Dallas whispered as he helped me pack our bags to leave again.

  "What?" Obviously, I knew what he was talking about, but I'd rather play dumb and stalk for time. Maybe I'd come with a good excuse in the meantime.

  "Patty said I tried to kill her."

  Laughing, I looked up at him. He towered a foot over me, a frown perched between his brows. I hated to see him upset, and yet knowing the truth would upset him even more. "It was a joke. I told you she's a bit strange. Come on, we need to hurry if we want to catch that train."

  He shook his head, unconvinced. "Why would anyone make such a sinister joke?"

  "Babe, there's something I didn't tell you." I pulled him on the bed next to me. Our gazes locked. "She's up here on her own because she has an antisocial personality disorder. She really doesn't like people much." I inched closer whispering, "I'm so sorry you had to see this."

  "But last night she seemed so social and friendly."

  "I know. The mood swings are part of her condition."

  "No wonder you couldn't tell me." Dallas pressed me against his chest. I snuggled my head into his shoulder and held up my lips to meet his kiss, my guilt instantly forgotten. Surely Patricia would understand the need for my little, white lie. I mean, how could I possibly be of any help to her tied to Hell like she was bound to this house?

  His lips pressed harder onto mine. A spark ran up and down my body, gathering somewhere in the pit of my stomach and wandering up to my heart. I savoured the delicious taste of mint and chocolate as he drew me deeper into our kiss.

  "You have no idea how hard this was for me," I whispered eventually against the warmth of his lips.

  "I can only imagine."

  You're milking it for all it's worth, huh? Kinky said. I like your style.

  Clearing my throat, I peeled my lips off Dallas and resumed my packing. "We're meeting Aunt Krista in France."

  "I hope she'll like me," Dallas said.

  No doubt about that. She'll have him for breakfast. Kinky laughed. Yep, he might be right about that.

  Chapter 20 – Man-eater

  A few hours later we arrived at Nice airport. Our designated driver was already waiting outside the arrivals hall, the silver BMW

  barely standing out from the crowd among the countless limousines, Ferraris and other luxury rides that wouldn't look out of place at a German a
uto show.

  He bowed deeply and grabbed the bag from Dallas's hand, a leer playing on his lips. There was something strange about him, maybe the way he paraded cockily as though chauffeuring clients for a living was way beneath him. I regarded him from the corner of my eye, only then noticing the two tiny horns peeking from under a mop of black hair. Of course Dad couldn't just arrange for a mortal driver to drive us the few miles to the harbour. He had to send out one of his chaos demons, and an arrogant one at that.

  If you pull a stunt on us, I'll send you straight back to Lavardos.

  Let's see whether you can take that heat. My mind focused on him, lest he ignore my threat and pretend it might be intended for someone else.

  Hearing my thoughts, he grinned, green eyes sparkling with mischief. I wondered whether I should drive, just in case he decided a bit of fun might be worth Dad's wrath and consequent punishment after all. Come to think of it, Dallas might find my decision to drive strange though, so I decided against it.

  "Do you have all you need?" Dallas asked.

  I nodded and jumped on the backseat, making room as he joined me. The demon started the engine and pulled out into the heavy traffic. After a few minutes, I relaxed against the cool leather and Dallas's stroking fingers on my arm.

  "Want to see the ocean, Princess?" the demon asked.

  I laughed and nudged Dallas. "He thinks I'm royalty. Isn't he funny?"

  "You look like a princess," Dallas said, pulling me against his chest protectively. He was jealous which was cute because it told me he loved me just as much as I loved him. The knowledge made visiting Aunt Krista almost bearable.

  Beaming, I peered out the window at the clear, blue sky and the scantily clad people. The car took a few turns and gained in speed as we drove up a highway. To our right I could already see sparkling water stretching in the distance. A few yachts sailed at a leisurely speed, the people sprawled on the decks enjoying the midday sun.

  Half an hour later, the car pulled onto the promenade, almost running over a lamppost. I got out quickly and motioned Dallas to follow.

  "It seems your aunt is already waiting," the driver said with a leer. I followed his line of vision to a blonde, busty woman wrapped in flowing chiffon that revealed a little too much, waving from a huge cruise.