Mated By The Demon Collections: Paranormal Romance

by Riley Moreno

  Gloria made a speedy escape further down the room, stopping to shake hands with the mayor; a matriarch of the town, before pausing to savor the exquisite aromas pervading a lavishly furnished table. Satisfied that she was out of trouble, she set her glass down on the table and picked up a pea balanced on a toothpick from the table. She took a deep breath, as well as another passing glass, and then entered the distinguished crowd. Almost every wrist oozed something sparkly or glittering in the bright lights, and it was hard to imagine how she was exactly supposed to mingle with such a crowd.

  Pull yourself together Gloria she thought fiercely to herself; it’s either this or the workhouse for you. She kept her glass close to her cleavage; wanting to make herself smaller in a sense, intending to eavesdrop. She was going to catch up on the gossip that was bound to exist within such a crowd. There was no better friend than a friend in need and that was how she intended to play this game. A suspicion you say? Allow me to introduce myself. You don’t need the publicity? Did I mention the strict confidentiality we at Patton and Patton employ?

  It did not make for a pretty, nor honorable evening, but it beat standing around and doing nothing. She sipped from her glass, and pretended the appreciative stares aimed her way from men with ring-laden fingers were not meant for her; potential subjects perhaps- who knew? She peeled her ears, and stayed focused on her mission.

  Ten minutes later she had come up dry. Either she was off her game or there was nothing juicy simmering underneath this smooth façade. The latter was impossible, so Gloria decided to take a two minute breather before heading back into the mix. Yet twenty minutes later all she had were tit-bits painting a most colorful portrait of the host-it was not an organization after all. As of then

  I hear his mother is descended from a long line of Romanian counts and countesses- distinguished progeny….

  Nonsense! Word has it that he is a self-made man; clawed his way on up…

  The scent of the mint is still fresh on his billions…new money

  Oxford educated…

  No! Cambridge…but not on scholarship, God no! His father supported him with the wealth amassed during the tumultuous days leading up to when the curtain came crashing down-and afterwards…

  He and my older sister are engaged to be married…she tells me he is a spy!

  I never knew you had an older sister!

  Probably running from some crime, coming over here- all that wealth you know

  All these facts inspired in Gloria the mental image of an aging, possibly East European James Bond type; a Russian Sean Connery. Coupled to being improbable, it was information she could do very little with. She was beside the aroma riddled table once more, and out of the corner of her eyes she spotted the flush-faced stranger ambling her way. Putting down her glass she waltzed down a hall way she had spotted behind a curtain on the other side of the table, positioned a little towards the corners. She stepped onto the black and white diamond shaped tiles, her feet sounded hollow against the confines of the rather long space.

  Gloria observed the paintings on display as she made her way slowly deeper. They were modern pieces; nothing ancient. Around the middle the art displays changed to art sculptures, many of them mutant art. Gloria was not a fan of mutant art but she found herself absorbed in the sheer complexity of some of the work. One caught her interest in particular: a mold of mole pieces. There was a nose poking out where a leg should have been, and an eye to the left. She discovered several other pieces of repeating externalities poking up in all sorts of odd places- in the end she did not know what to make of it, nor the mind that conceived. She hugged her bare, round arms as waves of unease swept over her.

  “Ugly isn’t it?”

  Gloria snapped out of her daze, and turned to stare at the most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes upon. Her breath felt cold against her lips as she gasped, not at the sheer beauty of this particular male specimen, but at the whole monumental contrast between him and the mutant creations that surrounded them both. She had the feeling of being tossed into a pool of harsh cold water, the roughness of the sensations numbing to the mind.

  He rushed to her side, tenderly grabbing her elbows to prevent her fall as her knees buckled. Gloria quickly regained herself, her cheeks warm with embarrassment.

  “Thank you, sir.” She said quickly, taking a deep sigh and smoothing her blue one piece gown. “I must have been that last glass I had, but I am fine now.” She continued, the embarrassment following suit. She also marveled at the intensity of his eyes, their sheer coal-black nature, a perfect match for the jet-black of his hair. There was neither a hair on his head, nor strand of fiber on his dark suit that was out of place. The word vampire floated to mind.

  “Hmmh I did not hear you as you came…” she began.

  “Neither did I hear you.” He answered, “Sorry I gave you a scare though; it was never my intention.” His voice sounded like it came from somewhere unfamiliar. It was definitely foreign, but Gloria could not place its origin.

  “You did not scare me.” Gloria said defiantly, sticking out her chin in defiance. She ignored the hard beating of her heart within her chest, not sure whether it was inspired by fear, or the intense attraction she felt for this total stranger.

  “Ok that is good because it is time I made my entrance, and I need an escort.” He grabbed her hand, in a puzzling blend of tenderness and firmness, and led her gently along the checked floor.

  “Hey!” Gloria protested, or attempted to but her voice barely made it out of her mouth before they were bursting through the curtains to arrive before the table. She pulled her hand away from his grasp, albeit a little reluctantly, but stayed abreast of him, following him through the crowd to the far end of the room.

  Heads turned as the pair stepped onto a makeshift podium that had been unoccupied up until that point when they stepped on. Gloria, not used to being the center of attention, was a little hesitant

  “You look beautiful, by the way.” He whispered, as if sensing her nervousness. “Relax, it’s just a toast.”

  “Wait, I thought usually it was the host who did-“

  She stopped short as it hit her like a brick that this was their host for the evening.

  “Thank you dear friends,” he began, over the whisper of the crowd-so much for eastern Sean Connery, “I am so grateful for the turnout. They say love available is best shown when it receives from another. While still new among you, I am quite taken by the hospitality I have enjoyed during my short stay her. Please allow me to make toast,” the hall was silent, enthralled. “To friendship and new beginnings.”

  The foyer chorused it reply, and slowly came back to life. The podium was all of a sudden flooded with people who wanted to socialize and Gloria quickly found herself elbowed to the edges. To her surprise however, and much to his credit, the host quickly turned, pushed through the crowd and grabbed her by the hand in that same puzzling manner.

  “I hope I get to see you again Miss…”

  “Patton, Gloria Patton; private investigator for the rich and paranoid; here is my card; call me sometime if you need anything checked out.” She passed him a card from her mini-purse in one smooth movement which had even her surprised. For one thing, business was the last thing on her mind, and she was usually less sure of her movements in crowds; she was aware of the pounding feeling within her chest once more and her ears felt hot.

  “Wow a business woman! Viktor Belerin Konoplyanka; I will call you if I require any enquiries then.” He answered as he smoothly passed her card into his suit pocket. His eyes possessing a curious demeanor, never left her face, and for a heart wrenching second of pained hope, Gloria thought she could see the same fascination for herself as she had for him-just a second. After that the crowd swamped her out again and she quickly departed. She wanted to go home; her heart was no longer in the endeavor. Where was Gladys when you needed her?

  On cue, Gladys appeared alongside her, “Hey!” her eyes amused as she stared into her twins fac
e. “Wow, here I am working hard to sell us to this pampered crowd and you land yourself a hot date!”

  “Yeah you were really hard at work.”

  “I handed out all my cards-it’s a start! So you mind telling me your new boyfriend’s name? Let me guess-Vlad Dracula”

  “He’s not my boyfriend! I need a drink.” Gloria announced as she made a beeline towards a passing waiter with a tray.

  “Hey don’t bite my head off!” Gladys joked, taking a glass for herself. “He is something though- I never knew men came so…perfect.”

  “I know! We just met at one of the freakiest art displays in the world and next thing I knew, I was on stage with him.”

  Gladys’ eyes showed their skepticism “Hmmh hmmh; I think I’ll google him- give me a name.”

  “What no way! Viktor? I think with a ‘T’ the way he pronounced it.”

  “You are gonna have to give much more than that baby girl.” Gladys persisted. They were at a corner of the room now speaking in hushed tones by default. They did not really have to because there was nobody around.

  “Oh that’s all I remember. It was all so foreign. At least I know now that he really is from Russia or someplace like that. We don’t have to do this.”

  “Oh yes we do! There is just something about him-something off. I don’t know he seems to perfect. The best criminals always are.”

  “Hey, hey don’t get carried away! In fact I forbid you from doing anything.”

  “Nothing you can do to stop me dearie. Besides I know you are probably even more curious about him than I am. What with all the ladies, including grandmas, swooning at his gaze, and yet he remains still, very much a mystery, aloof from it all-except from you.”

  “What?! What are you talking about?!” Gloria’s head snapped at her sister’s direction. She had been determined to ignore Gladys’ comments but not anymore, “You think he likes me?!”

  “Wow, slow down! I think you he could like you. I mean he certainly looked at you like you were the only one in the room; mesmerizing; which is strange because normally it is I who gets such treatment. Yeah I should definitely check this out.”

  “Okay that’s it. I’m calling a cab” Gloria announced, downing the remaining bit of her drink before storming off towards the red carpet exit.

  Chapter 3

  Every day, by 5am, Viktor would roam the house, moving from room to room, or maybe silently practice martial arts in the newly installed dojo in the mansion, in the dark, or with his eyes closed; going through the motions, imagining he was fighting against himself. He would look at the art exhibits, and paintings on display, otherwise, as he sidled from one chamber to another or just stare at framed photos and paintings of his family-especially the large one that hung over the huge fireplace located deep within the mansion. He would place a cushion stool before the fireplace to sit and stare.

  He would stare especially at his mother, the Countess Valgloria, allocating a considerable amount of time to her; even in the lifeless landscapes of the still portrait, her gaze still seemed to smolder in all its depths. Her dark hair-jet black like his, seemed to shimmer over her shoulders, like shiny dark liquid. Every time he sat there, he could have sworn her eyes moved, and that the invisible smile behind her pale red lips peeking out at him just for the tiniest of moments. Her beauty had haunted many a man; noble and commoner alike, and yet she had eloped with a migrant worker whom she had run across on a rare night of indiscretion.

  Then after a while, Viktor would shift his eyes, albeit with reluctance from his mother’s face to other members, starting with his father; stern eyes and imperious moustache set in place like flint. The routine had not changed in the few months that he had been there in the United States, and had shown no signs of changing, which was the reason for the look of mild amusement across the face of Sergei, the butler, when he gently pushed the heavy brown mahogany doors to find Viktor asleep on the bed at 5am, instead of haunting the halls of the house as usual.

  He moved without a sound to the bed, to check and make sure that all seemed well. He nodded his grey narrow grey head in agreement before making his way out. He picked up a complimentary card from the bedside table; it was hardly legible in the deep twilight of the master bedroom.

  “Patton and Patton; private investigators.”

  A few hours later, it was light outside but you would not have known in the spacious dining room in which Viktor was breakfasting. There were no windows that led outside in the room located deep in the mansion, and thus no natural light. It was not dark however, and Viktor sat bare-bodied, in nothing but black track suit trousers, in the full glare of the fluorescent light bulbs that lay hidden up around the ceiling at different several different points.

  His cutlery made the only sound as he sliced into the classic Russian breakfast, which meant that instead of orange juice and white or brown bread, there was tea and rye bread-or black bread as called in the motherland. He sliced into some soft, Bavarian type sausage, and was lavish with his butter because he felt good. Not particularly appetizing but great for those who were used to.

  Sergei, who approached the table a short while later remarked about it, much to the amusement of Viktor. They both spoke English, but usually exchanged in Russian, as they did now:

  “Late mornings, and an extra dose of butter sir; we are most surely well this morning!”

  Viktor smiled, nodded and chewed on sausage at the same time “I think I’m in love Sergei.”

  It was a statement of fact, and Sergei who had been with his family for quite a while, and had watched him grow knew that was the truest Viktor could ever be; he took words very seriously and hardly minced them.

  “There were several people here the other day, lots of them beautiful-not the classic Russian beauty sir, but beautiful nonetheless.”

  Viktor pushed the plates away, smiling; he had nothing against Russian pride, but he did not buy into the belief that Russian women were the most beautiful.

  He stood up because Sergei would not sit down, “She is the most gorgeous being I have ever laid eyes on. There most fascinating thing is a certain radiance-an energy that seems to emanate from within-it’s either that or I have locked myself away for too long.”

  “Probably both, sir.” Sergei said in levity, “I shall be off to my duties then.”

  At a significantly less affluent end of the city, Gloria sat on a sofa in a dimly lit room, with her palms out open and stretched before, and the lingering scent of cat fur, and garlic pervading the atmosphere. Gladys stood to the side, and watched with amusement as Mrs. Murkowski perused Gloria’s left hand like an intriguing specimen from the wild.

  “Well there is nothing strange here; everything is as it should be!” Mrs. Murkowski announced at last.

  “Well surprise, surprise.” Gloria murmured, shrinking into deeper into her seat to avoid a grown cat that skipped upon and over the sofa. “See? I told you I was okay.” She said pointedly at Gladys.

  “Oh you’re not okay-I didn’t say that! First off, that cat jumping over you was it forgiving you for kicking it the other day; your business should be back online now.” Mrs. Murkowski quickly broke in shaking her head. She now sat on an easy chair placed in such a way as to have both women in view, “But beyond that, you are about to embark on a roller-coaster; really intense emotions involved, but if you successfully navigate, I can see you growing from the experience.”

  Gloria rolled her eyes as Gladys donned a smug look of satisfaction.

  “Everybody has problems Mrs. Murkowski.” Gloria moaned adamant about the whole implausibility of the concept of palm reading, second sight and anything mystical in general. “It’s called life!” she stood up at that point, “Thank you for the time Mrs. Murkowski, at least now you can get off my back, and unto some cases.” She said pointedly at Gladys.

  Gladys was giggling, but she pushed Gloria gently aside, “You lack imagination; Mrs. Murkowski did you see anything in there about a tall vampire-type guy who may
or may not have the hots for Gloria?” It was a serious question despite the smile on her face, but Mrs. Murkowski gave no indication of having heard, and seemed much more engaged with three identically colored cats that had bounded upon her lap. Reiterating the question brought no answer, so Gladys gave up.

  “You know I’m a believer, but that would be a much easier job if you actually showed up every now and then, or at least when you were expected to.” Gladys mumbled on their way out.

  It was not yet quite eight o’clock when they finally opened up shop for the day, and they had barely settled in before the phone started ringing. Gladys mouthed an ‘I told you so’ before picking up the phone. Not surprisingly, the client was from the posh get-together from a few days earlier and an appointment was quickly set up.

  An hour later, Gloria heard a nervous knock on the door, and tried to look busy as Gloria ushered a distinguished looking lady through her own office into hers. The swiveling chair did not squeak as she rose to extend her hand. Gloria did not recognize her from the party but it was clear she was almost on first name terms with Gladys.

  “Mrs. Cowling, Ludmilla Cowling.” Gladys introduced her while Gloria offered her a seat. Mrs. Cowling’s jaw was hard set, but her eyes were soft, almost sorrowful. Gloria could see that she had never been beautiful, but she was strong, with force of character. Her clothes were expensive, but not flashy, and coupled with her dark hair, lined grey after every few strands or so, you had a dignified portrait of a strong independent lady; perhaps it was this dignity denied that had brought her to the, in actual fact, not so dignified offices of Patton and Patton.