It was the sixth thing she’d broken since Kinsey left. And the smallest. If Julian didn’t run, he’d be next.
Not surprising he fled like the coward he was, out the glass doors and into the darkness beyond. The sound of his car engine roaring to life made her smile, though without amusement. Running off to Gideon Orter, more than likely. He’d been stabbing her in the back for months, since she arrived in Silver City, playing both sides.
Let him. He was useful to her for now. But the bitterness of her defeat with Kinsey affected Simone far worse than the truth he was as much a traitor as the rest of them.
Fucking Nightshade League and their arrogance and their rules. They’d never seen the potential of crossbreeds like her. Simone spun, perfect bob swinging with her as she upended the carafe of scotch into her mouth, a trail of it trickling down her chin, past her shining red lips.
She was stronger than all of them. The crystal decanter crashed to the wooden surface, cracking in half. They’d regret rejecting her for not being full blooded. And Kinsey… she’d had high hopes for Margot’s granddaughter.
But she was one of them, wasn’t she, a Nightshade, in the end? Despite her position, Simone gave her every chance. They’d discarded Kinsey, treated her like garbage. Simone knew her real potential, deserved her loyalty far more than the League ever would. Forget the fact she’d attempted to lure Kinsey with falsehood and the addiction of the artifacts. Simone’s scowl pulled her lips tight as she paced to the solarium and stared out into the dark, fury impotent. She’d offered her more than that foolish girl could ever imagine.
She’d never dealt well with rejection. It felt like a fist to her heart.
No matter. Simone tossed her head, wiped at the scotch on her face, running down between her breasts. Licked it clean from her finger before drawing the symbol of the Nightshades on the glass with the remains of the liquid. If she couldn’t have Kinsey willingly, she’d have her by other means. And fuck Gideon Orter. Fuck them all.
Already feeling better, Simone sauntered back into the house, calling for Clarence.
***
INT. – THE MELTON HOTEL – NIGHT
Victoria Hunter examined her perfect makeup in the elevator mirror, turning her head left and right to ensure she was in perfect balance. The last doctor she used seemed to know what he was doing, but she’d had to go back for extra injections thanks to his carelessness.
Fucking assholes, all of them. Didn’t they understand perfection was important?
She exhaled in irritation as the elevator doors swished open and she was forced to push past the young couple who sauntered on, with no regard for her right of way. She sent a pulse of illness toward the young woman, smiling cruelly to herself as the girl’s proclamation of suddenly feeling unwell preceded the closing of the doors.
He’d have quite the mess to clean up in about five seconds. Four. Three.
Victoria laughed and moved on, the beautiful, happy couple’s misery already forgotten.
This visit to Silver City was such a waste of her time. She’d been deep in the process of procuring husband number ten when Margot called. Or was that eleven? Victoria had such trouble keeping track. She gently prodded her right cheekbone as she tapped on the penthouse door at the end of the hall. Hmmm. A little mushy. She might need a new round of injections when she got home to Boston.
The door swung inward, the tall, revolting and insufferable form of Benedict filling the space. Victoria scowled at him, swatted his hovering form with one hand on her way by as he stepped aside to let her in. Vulture. She sniffed, chin lifting, despising him for the gold and diamond ring on his finger, while hers was merely silver and rubies. How she hated his status was greater than hers, all from a mistake of birth.
She was ten times the vampir.
Margot sat at the desk, writing, and her gray head lowered over her work. Really, she needed to take better care of herself. Victoria observed the Nightshade critically while she waited with growing impatience for the old bat to notice she’d arrived. She’d have to color that terrible hair, gray was the worst, absolutely brutal. And those lines and wrinkles! Victoria’s greatest fear was aging. She woke from nightmares, at times, terrible dreams she’d never confess to anyone, where she’d dreamed she’d aged fifty years overnight. Then she'd run to her dressing room, to strip naked and examine her body for even a glimmer of age. Her vampir magic did its job, augmented by medicine. But it took more and more power these days to hold back time.
How she hated time. And her flawless daughter who dared be more beautiful than she was.
“You were supposed to tell Rachel about her history.” Margot’s voice sounded as powerful as ever and, as the older woman looked up and met Victoria’s eyes, the vampir shivered inwardly, all criticisms and bitterness fading in the face of superior power. Even she had to bow to the strength of the Nightshade.
“I tried.” A lie, naturally. Rachel was weak, couldn’t handle knowing what she was. Victoria had known it from the moment the babe was born. “She refused to listen.”
Margot’s flat glare made her nervous, shift her feet, hands clenching around her clutch.
“We’ve been protecting the girls for so long,” the Nightshade said, “we’ve forgotten how important it is they someday understand their worth. And their place among us.”
Victoria lifted her chin, refusing to look at Benedict who circled, staring at her with those silent eyes, that judging expression. Aside from the obvious reason, she’d hated being what she was her whole life and knew Rachel would, too. While no one would accuse Victoria of being the best mother in the world, she’d protected her daughter from the politics of it all willingly.
“The child is falling to pieces.” Not her fault, surely. Victoria had done everything she was told. Raised an obedient daughter in ignorance, just as the Nightshades ordered. And hated every minute of it. Still did her duty though, didn’t she, as rubbish as it all was? “Just as I said she would. She’s simply not strong enough—”
Margot surged to her feet, the pressure of her power slamming down onto Victoria, driving her to her knees. She cried out, afraid at last, tears smearing her mascara as she held her shaking hands over her head, meager protection from Margot’s wrath.
“I should have taken Rachel away from you the moment she was born.” Victoria’s body shuddered from the pressure of Margot’s disapproval. “You’ve ruined her. On purpose. You evil, cruel and terrible woman.” The Nightshade sagged, her power retreating. “My fault,” she whispered while Victoria sniffed. It was Margot’s fault. Victoria would have been more than happy to hand the brat over and live her own life.
Of course, it would be dangerous to say so. Or to tell the Nightshade compassion was for the weak. Her gaze flickered sideways, caught Benedict watching her. Rage woke, flashed in her eyes. He didn’t respond, which made her all the angrier.
That gave her the strength she needed to rise to her feet, to pat at the tears she knew ruined her makeup. To face down Margot with the coldness she’d become so good at showing the world.
“I wanted Rachel out of all of this,” she said. “If the Nightshade League wants her so badly, they can be the ones to hold her hand.” There. She said it. Cleared her conscience and her involvement. Washed herself of the burden of her daughter.
Margot’s disgust did little to make her feel guilty. Victoria had done her part. She spun without another word, went to the door, knees shaking at her audacity. But Margot let her go, Benedict, too. When Victoria found herself in the hall outside, the door closed behind her, she laughed, breathless and excited.
She’d done it, gotten away with it. And she no longer had the burden of Rachel to hold her back. Less than a minute later she was in the elevator, scowling at her reflection as she hastily repaired her makeup and headed down to her own room.
Time to pack and go home. She had a wealthy, fresh husband to snare.
***
INT. – RAY’S APARTMENT – NIGHT
Cici stood in the darkness, looking down at Ray’s sleeping face. Beloved face, so sweet and open in her rest. Cici’s chest tightened, choking off her air while her body trembled softly in the faint moonlight reaching through the tall window next to the bed.
Her phone buzzed in her hand. She’d been expecting this text, dreading it. Hating and longing for it all at once. Even as her heart shattered, rebuilt, died all over again, pain and pleasure mixed inside her. The newly wakened power she possessed groaned its sorrow as she looked down at the glowing screen, thumb swiping across the glass, revealing the message.
Is she ours? Simone’s crisp question might as well have been spoken in her smooth, rich voice. Just reading the words made Cici shiver, bite her lower lip, clutch at one full breast with her free hand while her soul shuddered.
Three simple letters, YES. She punched send and set her phone aside before covering her face with both hands and sobbing silently into the darkness while her lover slept on, oblivious.
###
Next time on The Nightshade Cases…
A Blues singer is in trouble when the men who come to listen to her perform start dying. But, are they the real targets, or is the woman with the voice of gold the one who should watch her back?
Look for Episode #8: Death Song, coming soon!
Death Song
Zoology101
Teacher’s Pet
Panic Room
Bad Shoot
Sicko
Federali
Witness
The Hit
Mimic
The Maze
Haunted
Splish Splash
Divided We Stand
Don’t miss a single episode of Season One! Sign up for new release emails at www.bit.ly/pattilarsenemail.
***
About the Author
Everything you need to know about me is in this one statement: I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was a little girl, and now I’m doing it. How cool is that, being able to follow your dream and make it reality? I’ve tried everything from university to college, graduating the second with a journalism diploma (I sucked at telling real stories), was in an all-girl improv troupe for five glorious years (if you’ve never tried it, I highly recommend making things up as you go along as often as possible). I’ve even been in a Celtic girl band (some of our stuff is on YouTube!) and was an independent film maker. My life has been one creative thing after another—all leading me here, to writing books for a living.
Now with multiple series in happy publication, I live on beautiful and magical Prince Edward Island (I know you’ve heard of Anne of Green Gables) with my very patient husband and six massive cats.
I love-love-love hearing from you! You can reach me (and I promise I’ll message back) at [email protected]. And if you’re eager for your next dose of Patti Larsen books (usually about one release a month) come join my mailing list! All the best up and coming, giveaways, contests and, of course, my observations on the world (aren’t you just dying to know what I think about everything?) all in one place: www.bit.ly/pattilarsenemail.
And check out all of my books now available (as well as the fun forums where you can connect with other readers) at www.purelyparanormalpress.com.
Last—but not least!—I hope you enjoyed what you read! Your happiness is my happiness. And I’d love to hear just what you thought. A review where you found this book would mean the world to me—reviews feed writers more than you will ever know. So, loved it (or not so much), your honest review would make my day. Thank you!
Booty Call (Episode Seven: The NIghtshade Cases) Page 8