The Queen of Disks (Villainess Book 5)

by Alana Melos

  “That is not what I taught,” he said, his talons scraping his burned wrist absently. “But I was not there to feed them.”

  Vampire blood had a potent effect, making the imbiber desire the vampire. I’d felt it before and it had knocked me for a loop, especially since it had played off of my already-present feelings for Nosferatu.

  “That might be it, you know,” I observed. “It wore off of me, and while I want you…” I looked him over, feeling faint desire stir at the thought of having him again. “I don’t need you. It’s not necessary to me… it’s controllable. Like it should be. Without you feeding her all the time... maybe she figures she doesn’t need you anymore either.”

  The vampire grunted, his handsome mutilated face falling into a deeper scowl. “It is the way it should be,” he said. “I granted them life, forever.” He gestured past our fire to indicate the group as a whole, “Helped them to set free their true selves. It is due. Their fealty is mine.”

  I arched a brow. “And blind loyalty? Do you deserve that?”

  He seemed shocked at the question, or confused. “Of course.”

  I shook my head. “Real leaders don’t need a crutch like that.”

  “What would you have me do? Wait for my children to betray me? They will,” he said, his words a dark promise. “They always will.”

  “Maybe you should trust them instead,” I said. The irony of saying that was not lost on me. I didn’t used to trust anyone. Since I’d started my criminal career, people had risked their lives for me. I couldn’t just cut and run after that. I shifted my feet as the memory of the mind control earlier welled, showing I didn’t have the moral high ground here.

  Perhaps sensing my doubt and confusion on the matter, he snorted a laugh. “Trust is not something that would be granted to me,” he replied. He knew the others heard, but didn’t care. They were all under the thrall of his blood and wouldn’t dream of leaving him. Their love, manufactured though it was, was strong.

  “Maybe you should give them a chance and find out,” I persisted. “People will surprise you.”

  He arched his burnt stub of a brow. “In all of my years, people have yet to surprise me.”

  “I did,” I said, stating the fact.

  “The idea of you surprised me,” he said. “I had not thought to seek a telepath for turning before. But you? You are as predictable as they come.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I said, my words dry. He sniffed once with great disdain as if to say ‘See? I was right’. I squinted my eyes as I looked at him. “It’s a lot easier to talk with you than the other Nosferatu. Your experiences have changed you so much.”

  “I haven’t changed,” he scoffed.

  “The other one would rather his head be ripped off than work for anyone but himself,” I pointed out. “You made the decision to work with the Nazis.”

  “Only to pave the way to take over this world,” he countered. “They would have been destroyed… eventually. I merely have to hasten my plot.”

  I raised both my eyebrows and shook my head. ‘The whole world? Why would you want it?”

  He looked at me, his eyes steady and piercing. “Why wouldn’t you?”

  “My Nosferatu… he doesn’t….” I said, frowning deeply.

  “Oh? He doesn’t?” he asked, a slight smile playing upon his features.

  “He’s done nothing at all to further that goal, if it is one,” I protested. “He’s got no soldiers. He’s flat out rejected the vampires and wolves, though they would have been eager to help him. He’s got no territory, weapons, money.”

  “Doesn’t he,” the vampire said, looking amused.

  “No, how would you know anyway?” I said, ending the question with an angry huff.

  “I know myself,” replied. “I remember well the day the Nazis came, the day Richter came to offer his deal. I debated with myself, and I chose to worm my way inside an organization which had the potential to set up what I wanted, to lay the infrastructure and cower the populace. It rankled that I would have to play being subservient, but here I am. Still alive and free, with a legion of creatures who will fight to the death for me.” He gestured to the hut, “With allies, old and new, powerful ones.” He touched his coat where he’d put the message I’d delivered, “And offers arriving this very day.”

  My frown continued as he spoke and I contemplated his words. He had a point, but they were still so different. I couldn’t imagine Prime’s Nosferatu being so bent on domination, or taking time to lay the plans for it. Being as he possessed a street smart punk thug instead of a businessman or general or congressman or a person who would get him power… well, that didn’t speak to foresight in his plans. Yet, the more I thought about it, the more I wondered who he’d been before he possessed Michael, and the circumstances surrounding his former host’s death. If he were to remain an ally, I needed to know his motivations.

  “You might have a point,” I conceded. “It’s certainly given me something to think about.”

  “You would make such a good vampire,” he said, leaning in close so that his dead, cold breath tickled my skin. “It’s a pity about the soul thing.” He sniffed and shrugged, leaning back once more, “You must be a clone then.”

  I blinked and looked at him. “Uh, yeah. How’d you know?”

  “Magic and science should not mix,” he replied. “It is not meant to be. What Richter has done, has been doing… had I known of it, I would have torn his spine out.”

  “You said Richter was the one who came to you, back in the whenever… thirties, I’d guess,” I said.

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  “Huh, then my Nosferatu must have killed Prime’s version of Richter,” I observed. “Good riddance.”

  “Had I only done the same,” Nazferatu lamented. “And joined the Reich anyway. I would be in a good position then.”

  I raised a brow at him. “I thought you were in a good position now.”

  “Better position,” he amended. “I am also disconcerted you keep calling Prime’s version of myself ‘mine’.”

  My cheeks flushed. I knew they did, and I hated it, but I couldn’t stop automatic body responses. “I know him better,” I said. “I met him first. We’ve worked together a lot.”

  The vampire didn’t reply save to give me a knowing look. I rolled my eyes and was about to correct his mistaken idea, but he cocked his head, then stood.

  “The witch wants us,” he said. “She is ready. I will collect Adira.”

  “She talks to you telepathically?” I asked as I stood up and brushed my trench off.

  “We have an understanding, she and I,” he said. “The cursed ones always do.”

  Before I could ask about that, he vanished into darkness. I turned to the house, marched up the unsteady path, then entered the bizarre hut. It smelled worse the second time around, even though I’d braced myself for the horrific scent. Whatever she cooked definitely would not agree with me.

  A few moments later and Nazferatu and Adira entered, just as I was making myself comfortable at the table. Baba Yaga stood by the cauldron, mixing a vile concoction as she chittered to herself. When the door closed behind Adira, only then did she look up.

  “Ah, good, you are here,” the witch said. “I have two things for you.”

  The two vampires made their way to the central kitchen area and stood. Adira leaned her fists on the wooden surface, her body stiff.

  “You sure you don’t want to stay?” I asked her, hissing the question under my breath as the witch gathered whatever she was giving us.

  Adira shook her head, her long hair flying free without her scarf. Before she could reply, Baba Yaga turned around with a scroll in one thin bony hand and a parcel wrapped in cloth in the other.

  “Instructions,” she said, raising the scroll, then placing it in my hand. “Ingredients.” She put the parcel in my other hand.

  “What am I supposed to do with this? I don’t know magic,” I said, my voice harsher than it needed to be.r />
  The old Russian witch didn’t hesitate and smacked me upside the head like someone’s Italian grandma. “Idiot,” she said, drawing the word out which made it sound weird. “When you get back to Italy, their stregoni cast it.”

  I bristled, and thought about drawing my sword, but Adira barked a laugh. I gave her a look, and she gave me an apologetic shrug. She didn’t look sorry at all. “Well, awesome,” I grumbled instead as I dropped the parcel on the table and rubbed my head where she’d struck me. “Another boat ride.”

  “No,” Baba Yaga said. “I will send you back. In one piece, even.” The old witch cackled at her poor joke. When the laughter faded, she gave a happy sigh. “Tell them it is a gift. Tell them to come and see Baba Yaga, and we will talk and drink and have a fine meal, and I will give them what they are looking for… and they will give me something in return.”

  I tucked the paper in my pocket. “Getting really tired of being the messenger,” I snapped, but it wasn’t her fault. She’d been extremely generous helping me, and I could stand to be respectful. “Thank you,” I said, the words only semi-forced out.

  The witch cackled again, waving her thin fingers at me. The long fingernails clacked together. “I was young and impulsive once too, pozhiratel',” she said, a sly smile upon her thin lips. “You age. You grow. You either become wise or you die.”

  “I don’t plan on dying,” I replied, hefting the package in one hand. It wasn’t too heavy, but there was definitely more than one thing inside.

  “Then you must become wise,” she finished, her words succinct. “Come gather. I will send you back.”

  I hated magic, but a person had to admit that from time to time it was useful. I moved over to where Adira stood as she straightened, her eyes on the witch. For a second, I had the urge to say goodbye to Nazferatu. We might have been lovers, but it wasn’t built on soft compassion. Hard and brutal, I think he would have been disappointed had I said fare-you-wells, just like I would have been had he done the same.

  Instead, he said, “Tell them I accept, and that I will be along presently to fill in the details.”

  “Send a letter, just like everyone else,” I replied.

  “I am,” he said, his voice coolly amused.

  That was all. When Baba Yaga muttered some words I didn’t understand, I turned my attention to her. Her hands glowed silver… no, it was darker than silver, yet had that metallic sheen to it. Iron. Like her teeth. Thinking about her teeth made my stomach queasy again. Damn, I’d be glad to get out of this shit-smelling hovel.

  A portal much like I’d seen Richter use opened in front of us. I walked through with a nod to the witch. I emerged on the balcony where we’d had breakfast days ago, in Venice. The smell of the water hit like a ton of cleansing, refreshing bricks, and I gulped down the air, trying to clear that god fucking awful smell out of my nostrils. Adira must have paused, as she appeared about a half a minute later, her mouth turned down sourly. Maybe they’d had last words. Who knew?

  The lights were on in the dining room, so I pushed the gauzy curtains aside and walked in. Alistair dropped his fork on his plate, his hands glowing that ghastly sickly green of his. I held up the package. “I come in peace?”

  Rebekah sat across from him and bounded up. With a frown, I noted she still hand that mechanical right hand, which I thought would have been hacked off by now. Though she smiled her pixie-like smile, I saw her eyes were rimmed with red, like she’d been crying pretty recently.

  “We’ve been waiting for you!” she said, her voice high-pitched in her excitement. “Can we go home now?”

  “Sure,” I said, tossing the package on the long table. Kiandra sat at the end of it, her smile just as broad as Rebekah’s. I moved closer to the table as I dug into my jacket, Adira right on my heels.

  “It is good to see you!” Kiandra said, her voice bright and cheerful. “Dealing with witches is no good, pfah!” She mock spat on the ground, conveniently ignoring the fact she was a witch. “But I knew you’d be back safe!”

  That always cheery attitude was going to rub me wrong eventually, but thankfully I wouldn’t have to deal with her much longer. I already had one of those kinds of people around me. Two would be too much.

  I pulled out the scroll--mages and their fucking scrolls--and unfurled it, looking at the writing. None of it made a lick of sense to me, but I had the impression it was some kind of old timey speech, not Latin. Nor Russian either. That was interesting. I handed it over to Alistair, who was closest to me.

  “One of you guys is going to have to--Hey!” My words were cut off with an exclamation as Adira snatched the scroll out of my hand. “What the fuck?”

  Her face curled up into a sneer. “You are so stupid,” she said as she backed up a few steps. Her hands glowed while we looked on. The crimson spilled light everywhere, coloring the surroundings like blood. It took a second for me to recover and reach out for her telepathically. As soon as I saw that light, I knew I’d find her mind blocked. It was.

  A portal opened up, and I lunged with my teke, intent on stabbing her in the heart. She backed up a step as Rebekah poofed into action, shadowstepping to disappear and reappear right next to Adira. I’d never been able to read Rebekah’s intent since she was psychically null to me, and thus… her reappearance ruined my shot. I stabbed her in the arm with the telekinetic knife instead, causing blood to spurt and her to yelp. A half a second later, I had another shot… but the portal closed, turning the lights back to normal with only a handful of drops on the floor from the bloody gash I’d given Rebekah to show that anything had happened here.

  “Fuck!” I screamed, my fists balled up. I stamped my foot on the floor. “I fucking hate magic!”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “I don’t see how it’s possible,” Alistair said, a few minutes later. “How can that be Richter? It’s impossible for a sorcerer to remove his own soul. He wouldn’t be able to do magic.”

  “I don’t know how it is,” I said as I gritted my teeth. “But he did it. It has to be him. I recognized that color. His aura, right?”

  “Yes, and I did too, but….”

  I slammed my hand down on the table. “But nothing! He did it! It’s him! Accept it, and move on. Figure it the fuck out later.” I ran my hand through my wild blond locks. It wasn’t just us going home that he cockblocked. Oh, no. We’d just inadvertently handed the Reich the means to start their conquering again, likely starting with Prime.

  “There’s no sense fighting,” Rebekah ventured. Kiandra had her healing hands on the wound in Rebekah’s arm, closing up the flesh. “Caprice is right. Let us figure out what to do next, where he went. We have to stop them.” Her bottom lip quivered, and I knew it wasn’t from the pain from the wound. She was upset, really upset to show that much emotion through her perfect doll’s mask. She’d perfected that mask during her time in the Reich, and there wasn’t much which could break it.

  The urge to break shit up came and went without me indulging it. The anger fueled me. It simmered right below the surface, just waiting for a vent for the lava to explode. “Can’t be Nuremberg,” I said, exhaling as I spoke. “But he’ll go to a place of magic, I bet. That fucker.” My eyebrow twitched. I was going to fix his little red wagon but good the next time I saw him.

  “It depends on what the spell did exactly,” Alistair mused. He was more confused than upset. I knew him well enough to know he was working the problem of Adira’s apparent possession in his mind. “If it lifted it in a limited area or worldwide. If the latter, he’ll need power. If the former, he’ll need space and quiet to figure out how to expand it.” His dark eyes looked to me, “If you knew what it said, that would help immensely.”

  Sitting down hard on one of their fancy chairs, I shook my head. “I didn’t recognize the language. Languages aren’t really my thing. But it wasn’t German, and I don’t think it was Russian either.” Looking around, I scowled, “Get me some paper and a pen, and I’ll write it out what I remember.”
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  A few seconds later, I had both and bent to work. Kiandra finished with Rebekah’s arm and patted it. “Good as new!”

  “Thanks!” Rebekah said with a tremulous smile. She brushed the dress she wore with her left hand. “I think this got, uh, ruined though. I’m sorry. It was really pretty!”

  “This? This is nothing!” Kiandra said. “We have many more! We’ll give them to you, it’ll be a gift!”

  The two of them were going to make my head explode. I narrowed my focus on the paper, sifting through my very recent memory to make sure it was all picture perfect. While they talked and I wrote, Alistair reached forward and grabbed the parcel. He opened it and sifted through the contents, his expression thoughtful.

  “There may be a list of ingredients there, but I think it’ll be incomplete,” he said. “That may work in our favor, give us some time.” The sorcerer paused as he rubbed his jaw. “Many of these are rare, or at least they were rare on Pax and Prime. I can only imagine they’d be just as rare here. Some mages would have these things stockpiled, but not all.”

  “Great,” I muttered. When he shot me a sharp look, I gave him one right back. “So he casts it in a week instead of tomorrow.”

  “Time is of the essence,” he said. “I doubt we can stop it now that he’s seen the spell. Even if it were in a language he didn’t know, it won’t take long for him to decipher it.” He tapped a bag of what I assumed was herbs. “These things may be the only thing slowing him down.”

  “Oh, we can stop it,” I said as I stopped writing to look at the paper. It looked right. Mostly. “We’re going to fucking kill him.”