by Eve Langlais
Even Crazier
Crazy Ella in Love : 2
Eve Langlais
Even Crazier Copyright © 2018, Eve Langlais
Cover Art © 2018 Dreams2media
Produced in Canada
Published by Eve Langlais
www.EveLanglais.com
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
This Book is a work of fiction and the characters, events and dialogue found within the story are of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, either living or deceased, is completely coincidental.
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No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including but not limited to digital copying, file sharing, audio recording, email and printing without permission in writing from the author.
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eBook ISBN: 978-1-77384 - 0567
Print ISBN: 978-1-77384 - 0574
Introduction
Ella is back, and she’s not too happy someone is threatening her happily ever after.
Being the vampire queen can be lonely, but consorting with a Djinn? Unheard of.
Yet, Felicia can’t help but wonder what would happen if she ignored the rules. Rules she helped make. She craves something more in her life.
Wonders if she can’t have love.
After all, Ella and Zane found happiness against all odds. But it helped they actually liked each other; whereas, Felicia just wants to throttle the man with the teasing smile.
Then kiss him.
However, now isn’t the time for distractions. The world is in grave danger. A spell is unraveling and about to unleash a deadly menace onto the world. And Ella might be the only one who can stop it.
Prologue
Felicia awoke in darkness, the candle long snuffed out. The creep of dawn had yet to lighten her window, and yet her eyes remained open, sleep having fled.
Something roused her.
A stir in the shadows halted her breath, and she clutched her blanket to her chest. “Who’s there?” Who dared invade her bedchamber at night? And how?
The bar across the door was a sturdy precaution her mother insisted on when Father and his soldiers returned loud and lusty from battle. There was no entrance to her room but the window, several stories above ground. Only a bird could manage to enter. Yet she didn’t think it was a mere animal in her room. She felt eyes watching.
Don’t be afraid. The words whispered across her skin. Relax.
“I will not relax,” she huffed. “Who are you? Show yourself.” She refused to show fear even if inside she trembled. Never show weakness. How often did she hear Father bark those very same words?
“You are an impertinent chit.” The harshness of the statement created a chill that pimpled her skin. From the shadows by her wardrobe emerged a figure. His raiments were rich, the fabric thick and woven of many colors. Garish and better suited for court with the king than invading a young lady’s bedroom at night.
“How dare you come in here? My father will kill you.” Because now that she’d reached marriageable age, she held much value.
“Your father will never know. Because you aren’t going to tell. You’re not going to say a word at all. Bare your neck to me.”
The words hit her, and she blinked. Wanted to laugh at his demand and then scream for her father’s guards. They’d eviscerate this stranger.
Yet…she found her lips sealed. She let go of the sheet she held for modesty, and it fell to her lap. She tilted her head and bared her throat. Only fluttered her lashes once when the fangs slid into her skin.
Good thing she’d bathed. She’d hate to think that the stranger in her room sucked on a dirty neck.
Shouldn’t I be screaming? There is someone drinking my blood.
And it felt good. The trepidation she’d felt vanished at the pleasure. A smile pulled at her lips, and she uttered a contented sigh. Maybe she’d cry for help later.
Instead, she fell asleep and thought the whole thing a dream until she saw the bruise on her neck the next day.
She covered it. Obviously, some kind of bug had gotten to her. The idea there was a stranger in her rooms…absurd.
That night she shook her sheets. Crushed sprigs of mint in every corner. Then, as a precaution, she double-checked her door was barred and ensured the window was shut as well.
‘Twas but a dream.
Wrong.
The vampire returned. He came for three nights in a row and feasted on her flesh. Whispered things he’d do to her. Vile stuff.
A precursor to events still to come. Because, after that first night, he didn’t just drink her blood. He made her act in a way that shamed her. Dirty ways her mother would have called a sin.
He should have picked someone else.
On the fourth night, Felicia had her father’s favorite hunting knife tucked under her pillow. The vampire—who wasn’t legend after all—appeared more surprised than angry when she shoved it into his heart and twisted.
His mouth opened and closed. Blood bubbled at his lips. She struggled beneath him as his body pinned hers, and he gave her a final deadly kiss, slick and coppery with blood, as his hands strangled her to death.
Oh dear.
Except she didn’t really die.
The next night, she woke on her funeral bed…hungry.
No survivors were found when the fire in the castle finally burned itself out.
One
Hunger proved a gnawing distraction as the lesson came to a close. The beating pulse distracted. All that lovely pumping blood. Felicia did wonder at the flavor.
Sweet or tart?
A pity she’d never know. Zane would kill her if she took a bite. He might still murder Felicia if she didn’t find a way to help the woman he’d taken as mate.
“Concentrate, Ella,” Felicia told a petite woman whose fragile features were framed by a blonde skein of hair that hung past her shoulders. It held natural highlights of platinum and shimmered as she shook her head in agitation.
“I am concentrating,” grumped Ella. She was about as angry looking as a baby squirrel.
“If you were actually paying attention and trying, then I wouldn’t have to tell you because we’d see a result. Focus your power.” Strange role for Felicia. Teacher for a power she’d never encountered before. An ánima veneficus, a sorceress who could manipulate ghosts.
Ella’s nose wrinkled, and her fists clenched—as cute as a kitten getting annoyed. “You know I can’t just turn it on at will.”
Or so Ella thought. Felicia knew better. She had quickly grasped upon their first meeting that the young woman was capable of powerful magic if she damned well tried. “You can access it, so stop pretending otherwise.”
“Only when I’m stressed.”
“Being able to act only in times of emotional distress is not good enough.”
“I’m fine with it.”
“You shouldn’t be!” Felicia snapped. “You should aspire to more than mediocrity.”
“I’m just fine being simple old me.” The worst part? Ella meant it.
“Ever think you’re supposed to do more than just hang around Zane’s house eating ice cream?”
“Nothing wrong with chillaxing.” Ella beamed. Since she’d escaped the asylum—where she’d spent most of her life after her parents had her committed for hearing voices—she’d spent a lot of time trying to absorb today’s culture and slang. Every time they met, Ella threw a new one at Felicia.
“You can’t be a lazy bum forever. What if you need to help someone? Like Zane.”
“Why would Zane need help?” Ella laughed. “He’s tough enough already.”
Indeed, Zane, an old friend and ally, could very well
take care of things on his own. He didn’t hesitate when it came to protecting what he was. But… “What if humans attack en masse during the day? You going to let him die because you’re being silly about using your skills?”
“No.”
“Then learn to use your gifts.” Felicia pointed to an ornate chair, her throne of several hundred pounds. “Lift it.”
Ella cast it a glance and didn’t mock it like Zane would. The damned man called it garish. Whereas Felicia rather thought the rose-gold sheathing gave it a certain cachet, as did the etchings of twining, thorny vines ending in roses where, if you looked carefully, you could see the screaming faces of the enemies she’d vanquished.
Good memories. A reminder of how hard she’d fought to get where she was. Top of the food chain. No one could touch her. No one dared disobey, except Ella.
The young woman pointed to the throne. “I can’t lift that. It is way too heavy.”
“Weight is immaterial.” Felicia waved dismissively, the manicure on her fingers perfect. French, of course, with rounded white tips. “The forces you command are beyond such things as weight or size.”
“Says you. You’re not the one doing the lifting.”
“And neither are you. The ghosts are the ones actually accomplishing the task.” While most of the time they couldn’t affect much in the real world, something about their proximity with Ella allowed them to move things. An awesome power. A good thing it hadn’t fallen into the wrong hands. She’d hate to kill the girl.
“My friends in the attic aren’t being too cooperative at the moment.”
“That is because you are too nice.” Felicia’s lip curled. Everything about Ella was nice, which made Zane’s capitulation all the more incredible. Once the most bloodthirsty of all the vampires in her court, Zane now smiled and did thoughtful things like bring his mate fresh bouquets of flowers and ice cream sundaes with extra cherries. The travesty! Didn’t he remember the first rule?
Don’t date your food.
But he’d not just dated it; he married it. It boggled the mind how this tiny woman, with the innocent airs, snared the most eligible vampire bachelor. How?
Seriously, Felicia wanted to know. A part of her envied the happiness they’d found.
Craved it even more than fresh blood.
How long had it been since she’d even given a man a second glance? It didn’t help the males she met found her intimidating. She could never hope to pull off an innocent act. Centuries of vice had jaded her.
“Nothing wrong with being nice,” Ella claimed.
“Except for the fact it makes no sense. Of all the people I know, you have one of the best reasons for hating everyone and wanting revenge.” Ella had been institutionalized at a young age for hearing voices. Felicia didn’t need to know particulars to understand the trauma this inflicted. Yet, Ella, with a sweet smile, never let anything get her down. She saw the positive in everything. The glass half full.
Blech. Felicia considered herself a realist, and the only person she trusted was herself. With good reason. Those most likely to betray were the ones closest to you. They only ever did it once. She dealt with perfidy immediately and harshly. This vampire queen hadn’t managed to maintain her reign by being nice.
Ella, however, just didn’t understand. She made excuses for bad behavior. “Hate solves nothing. Most times people are just confused. Once you explain things properly…” She smiled.
“I find explaining things with knives works best.” Many shallow slices, enough to hurt and bleed but keep the subject alive a long time. To ensure they learned their lesson.
“Violence isn’t the answer. Love is.”
Before Felicia could slap sense into Ella, the blonde canted her head, and her brow creased as if she listened to someone.
“Don’t you interrupt me, Brenda.” Ella shook a finger at a blank spot in front of her. “Just because you’re still angry at Harold for sleeping with Mary-Sue at your funeral is no reason to get aggressive. I was talking to my friend.”
What a concept. A vampire queen friends with a human sorceress. Even odder, it brought a not often felt warmth to Felicia’s breast. She fought it. “What have I said about using the f-word?”
But Ella ignored her, still intent on the blank spot in front of her. Apparently, Brenda had a reply because Ella crossed her arms and got a stubborn expression. Not the mulish kind, more a baby goat.
“Go ahead and try, Brenda.” Ella beckoned with her fingers. “You wanna take me? I dare you. But be warned, I might not know how to do many things, but I do know how to send a ghost away on a long trip.”
A recent skill Ella had learned when a few of the more aggressive spirits began harassing her to find their families. They wouldn’t take no for an answer and haunted Ella day and night. Which apparently cut into her time with Zane. The one thing Ella wasn’t nice about.
But disrupting her boudoir time with her lover wasn’t the only reason Ella snapped and sent the ghosts away. Ella drew the line at passing on instructions from the dead. According to her, the dead should never dictate to the living. Some kind of cardinal rule.
However, those ghosts refused to listen. They got loud and violent when they didn’t get their way. Zane later told Felicia that the poltergeists, in a tantrum, ripped books from the library shelves and began flying them in a maelstrom around Ella. When she still wouldn’t comply, they began tossing those books at Zane. That caused Ella to get angry enough to lash out. When things calmed, the three worst ghosts were gone. Never to be heard from since.
Things got much calmer around Ella after that as the remaining ghosts behaved.
But new ghosts were created daily, which meant those who’d not seen the lesson began the harassment anew. How long before Ella lost her temper again?
Soon, Felicia hoped. She’d like to see Miss Perfect act normal for once.
Ella continued her conversation with her invisible harasser. “You know what, Brenda? I think you should go on a trip. Make new friends. Guy friends. You are, after all, a widow now.”
The oddity of calling a ghost a widow struck Felicia. But then again, it did fit. Brenda didn’t have a husband at the moment. All bonds severed at death.
“Yes, you are single. Which means you can date.” Ella grinned, still at a blank spot in the air. “You could totally rock a bikini. I hear the Bermuda Triangle is particularly strong with those living the afterlife this time of year.”
Felicia cleared her throat. “If you’re done playing travel agent to a spirit, can we get on with the lesson?”
Uncanny eyes met hers, the depths of them swirling with a white/gray mist. “We’ll finish practice another time. I want to hear about the genies before I go home.”
In the midst of pouring a few fingers of infused brandy—the infusion being some of the proteins found in blood, vampire vitamins so to speak; it drastically cut down her need to feed—Felicia didn’t pause. She filled the amber liquid to the midway point in the crystal glass. She clutched it with two fingers and a thumb before idly turning. “Excuse me? What are you talking about?”
“The genies coming to visit you.”
“I haven’t the slightest idea of what you speak.”
Ella snorted. “You know you can’t lie to me. Some of my friends up here”—she tapped her temple—“told me that there are genies coming to visit you. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. That is so freaking cool.”
“First off, they are djinn, and you would do well to use that rather than the slang made popular by cartoons and film.”
“Whatever. When are they arriving?”
Felicia’s turn to cross her arms. “You want information, then you need to give me something first. Lift it.” She angled her head at the chair.
“Seriously? Blackmail?”
“Negotiation.”
“Fine.” Ella sighed. She pinched her features, and her frame went stiff. The throne lifted a half-inch, shifted over a few, and dropped. Ella opened her eyes a
nd smiled. “I did it. Now it’s my turn to get something. I want to meet one.”
Without hesitation. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because their visit is supposed to be a secret.” A matter of grave import the message said before it self-destructed. Intriguing and old-fashioned given it arrived by owl, tied to its leg in a small vial that tingled when she touched it. The tiny scrap of paper appeared as gibberish at first, but then words appeared. A note warning the djinn were coming. Giving her the option of saying no.
As if she’d refuse. She wanted to meet the reclusive race.
“I won’t tell anyone. Just invite me to dinner. Tell them I’m your assistant or cousin or something.”
“No.”
“You are such a spoilsport. Can you at least tell me their names, maybe hook me up with their Instagram and Twitter profiles so I can stalk them online?”
The reference to social media had her blinking. “Did Zane seriously think allowing you Internet access was a good idea?”
“Zane encourages my learning.”
“The only thing you’ll learn via social media and other online sources is flashy headlines based on little substance. It is a fake world.” Which she refused to join. Bad enough her cell phone made her accessible at all hours of the day. She missed when carrier birds or messengers on fast horses had to take days, sometimes weeks, to travel. It was a slower pace of life then.
“Some of it is fake, but if you know where to look, you can learn a lot. About regular stuff anyhow. Other things are a bit harder to figure out. Such as, does a genie dude live in a lamp or a bottle?”
“You cannot ask that.” Nor did Felicia plan to, even if she wondered herself. Legend had vampires sleeping in coffins. Which was false. She slept in a bed, with good drapes. At her age, direct sunlight wouldn’t kill on contact, but it would sizzle and leave her looking like a lobster dropped in boiling water.