Catching Dragos (5 page)

the right to hit him.”

He jerked his arm free and punched the man-whore right in the kisser.

The blow snapped Fabian’s head back, knocking him into the pool. Splash! Water

cascaded over the old ladies, drenching them and ruining their spiffy makeup.

I quickly called 9-1-1 again.

The police dispatcher asked, “9-1-1, what is your emergency?”

“I want to report a fight.”

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“Are there any weapons involved?”

“Just his giant pecker,“ I answered.

Charlie waded into the pool after Fabian.

A hand to his bloody mouth, the wuss of a man-whore retreated to the far side of

the pool.

After a long pause, the dispatcher inquired, “I’m sorry, did you say his pecker?”

“I did. Fabian’s quite proud of it, but I think it’s gonna get damaged. Charlie’s not

real happy with where he’s been putting it.” I watched the paramedics jump in the

water and grab their captain before he could hit Fabian again.

Laughter in her voice, the dispatcher continued with her questions. “Do you need

the paramedics?”

“No, we already have some.” I disconnected.

The medics wrestled Charlie out of the pool.

Heather stripped her top off and proudly thrust her DD breasts out. “Fabian,

could you be a dear and put some sunscreen on my girls?”

“Anything for you, amore mio,” Fabian called, pulling himself from the pool.

Charlie struggled to break free. “You fucking pervert, I’m gonna kill you.”

I did a mental happy dance. My paparazzi contacts at
Celebrity News
would love

my recording of this little shindig. It would expose Fabian as the gigolo he truly was.

While he was busy clearing his name, I could find out where he had hidden Ethel

Rossi’s medallion.

Sirens sounded in the distance.

Time for the pièce de résistance. I chanted softly, “
Verisimiloria et potuero
.”

Right on cue, the bull snake slithered out the patio doors and wrapped itself

around Fabian’s left leg. He yelped, jumped back, and slammed into Charlie. The fight

was on.

The police rushed in.

CATCHING DRAGOS | 35

I loved it when a plan came together.

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GAIL KOGER

Chapter Six

Within the hour, my video of Fabian, the gigolo, went viral. The smirking female

reporter on the
Celebrity News
television show asked, “Does supermodel Fabian have

mommy issues? A little birdie tells me his pool has seen more action than Hugh

Hefner’s. But, while Hugh likes them young, Fabian prefers the more mature woman.

You’d think his poor penis would get tuckered out servicing all the retirement homes in

the area.”

The reporter winked at the camera. “Those little blue pills are certainly miracle

workers, ladies.”

Her co-anchors broke into laughter.

A tingle at the base of my skull warned me that my grandmother was in my head.

Her raspy voiced warned,
“He is Dragos.”

One of the drawbacks of being telepathic was my colorful family could pop in at

any time for a chat.
“Who are you talking about, Grams?”

“Fabian. He’s the clan’s head enforcer and a demon hunter.”

I laughed.
“No way. That oversexed doofus couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag.”

“A clever predator hides his true self and strikes without warning. Leave before he

discovers who you truly are,”
Grams urged.

Which would be bad. Very bad. If the Dragos clan found out about my unusual

talents
, they would either kill me or force me to marry one of their hunters. Adding my

genetics to their bloodline would give them super hunters. I couldn’t let that happen.

“Antonio is an hour out.”

What! She was sending in our clan’s enforcer?
“That’s not necessary. I’m more than

capable of kicking Fabian’s ass.”

CATCHING DRAGOS | 37

“Antonio will deal with Fabian. Not you.”

“But, Grams, I—”

“Enough! The decision has been made. Go to the circus and await Antonio,”
Grams spat,

every inch the matriarch of the Vizzini clan.

“Yes, ma’am.”
I hated lying to her, but I wasn’t leaving until I found that

medallion.

The psychic link broke. My grandmother wasn’t your typical Gypsy witch. Her

resemblance to Sophia Loren was truly amazing, but her beauty hid one hell of a mean

streak. Mess with her, and she would turn you into a toad.

The Royal Circus housed the Vizzini clan’s mobile hunters squad. If there was a

demon infestation, the circus came to town. While the townsfolk were being

entertained, our hunters exterminated the monsters. The FBI’s tactical unit had nothing

on us.

Antonio would love going mano a mano with Fabian. The stupid feud between

our clans had been going on for at least two hundred years. It was worse than the

Hatfields and the McCoys. Since I was a sneaky bitch, I could easily handle Fabian

without anyone getting hurt or killed.

The members of the Dragos clan were deadly fighters and notorious for taking

things that didn’t belong to them. If you crossed them, you ended up in an unmarked

grave. But even more impressive than their penchant for revenge was their skill at

hunting. Their record for killing monsters was unmatched. Even by the Vizzini clan

standards.

My existence was a well-kept secret. After my mother was killed by a demon, my

dad cut all ties with the Vizzini clan. He said I was going to have a
normal
life. Which I

did until my psychic powers and magic manifested. My poor dad found himself

dealing with an eight-year-old who could suddenly see dead people. I was seriously

freaked out, and Dad did the only thing he could. He called Grams. Under my

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grandmother’s tutelage, I learned to control my abilities, but Dad refused to let her

teach me the family business until I turned eighteen.

On my eighteenth birthday, Dan Harvey shot my father and changed my life

forever. To say my grandmother was unhappy with me rejecting my heritage and

becoming the Judge would be an understatement.

I still couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that Fabian was an enforcer. I guess

my first clue should have been his skill with a sword. If he found out I was the one who

took his car and outed him on national TV, there would be hell to pay.

My cell phone chimed. Hmmm. I was being summoned by Fabian. He must have

posted bail. Had he figured out who I was? If I was going to dance with a hunter, I

needed to be prepared. My mask was firmly attached. A little mouthwash, a big bite of

gooey chocolate cake, some of my special
toys
, and I was ready to rumble. I walked into

the penthouse living room and studied Fabian carefully.

He was sprawled on the couch in a deceptively relaxed pose. I admired the way

his black T-shirt and jeans clung to his muscular form. A sleepy expression on his face,

Fabian smiled seductively.

Did the idiot really think he could seduce me into spilling my guts? I smiled back

politely, exposing my chocolate-covered teeth. “You rang, sir?”

Fabian’s eyes narrowed, and he patted the couch beside him. “Please sit.”

This was going to be so much fun. I plopped down beside him and gave Fabian a

blast of my dragon’s breath.

He gagged, and his eyes began to water.

“Oh, you poor thing. You’re not feeling well.” I hopped up. “I have something

that will fix you right up.” Yep, it would put him to sleep for the next twelve hours.

The demon hunter grabbed my wrist. “Sit down.”

CATCHING DRAGOS | 39

Damn. The bastard was freaky strong. I couldn’t break free, and I wasn’t exactly

your average girl. I sat and exhaled a long breath. “Certainly, sir. Are we planning

another party?”

“
Mio Dio
. Enough!” Fabian pulled a traveler’s size bottle of mouthwash from his

pocket. “Drink it.”

“Are you saying I have bad breath?” I huffed in outrage.

Fabian choked. “Your breath is a lethal weapon.”

Yes, it was. “I find your attitude very offensive.”

“Drink it, or I’ll pour it down your throat.” The dangerous edge in Fabian’s voice

sent a chill skittering down my back.

I took the bottle from him. “Could I have my arm back?”

He released me. “Try to run and you’ll find yourself flat on your back and not in a

good way.”

“Gee. Aren’t I little young for you?”

“Drink,” Fabian commanded testily.

I opened the bottle, swished the mouthwash around, and spat it out in his glass of

fifty-year-old whiskey. “Happy now?” I fought back a grin as the muscles in Fabian’s

jaw knotted.

“
Happy
is not the word I would use.” Fabian opened the laptop sitting on the

coffee table. The video of his poolside escapades was playing. “How did
Celebrity News

get this?”

I shrugged. “The paparazzi are sneaky buggers, sir. I’ll get security to check for

hidden cameras.”

His mouth tightened. “That won’t be necessary.”

Keeping up with my persona of the ever-helpful butler, I insisted, “It’s no trouble

at all, sir. I’ll have security up here in five minutes to check for listening devices and

cameras.”

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“The penthouse has been scanned for bugs,” Fabian replied, still looking a little

green around the gills.

“By who?”

“Me.”

“No offense, but you should let the experts deal with this.” I pulled out my cell

phone.

Fabian took my phone away. “I am an expert.”

I patted his knee. “You’re a supermodel, honey, who likes old ladies and

stripping. Let’s not get a swelled head here. Let me call the experts.” I held my hand out

for the phone.

My psychic senses went on red alert when Fabian’s demeanor changed abruptly.

A fierce intelligence flared in his eyes. He seemed to get bigger, his features hardened,

and the womanizing doofus transformed into a predator.

Holy fucking shit! I had unleashed the hunter.

A steely note in his voice, Fabian demanded, “Who are you, and who do you work

for?”

“Oh, dear. I was afraid this might happen. That nasty fight today has rattled your

poor wee brain. The resort has a great doctor, and I’ll—”

Fabian grabbed my face mask. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

I let my voice tremble. “No, sir.”

“Take it off or I will.”

I gave a horrified little squeak. “You want me to disrobe? I’m reporting you to the

management.”

“Cut the act and take off that damned disguise,” Fabian growled.

“As you wish.” I triggered my tranquilizer ring and stabbed him in the thigh.

“Nighty-night.”

CATCHING DRAGOS | 41

With a roar of fury, Fabian grabbed my hand, yanked the ring off my finger, and

hurled it across the room.

I jabbed him with my other ring.

Fabian shoved me down on the couch and clamped his hand around my neck.

“Who are you?”

Dammit. Why wasn’t he unconscious? I tried to pry Fabian’s fingers off my throat.

“Millie.”

“Don’t fucking mess with me. I’ll—” Fabian’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he

toppled over.

I pushed him off me. “About time.”

Grams screeched in outrage,
“What have you done?”

Crap. She was monitoring me.
“I handled the hunter. Tell Antonio he’s not needed.”

“Is Fabian dead?”

“Ah. No. Killing humans is not my thing.”

“You little fool. He’s a Dragos. Kill him now,”
Grams snapped.

This was beyond crazy.
“Don’t you think you’re overreacting just a tad? He doesn’t

know who I am.”

“He has your scent.”

Now he was a supernatural bloodhound?
“I took precautions. He can’t track me.”

“I pray you’re right, but know this, Fabian will hunt you.”
There was a note of genuine

worry in Grams’s voice.

I gave her a mental hug.
“And he’ll never find me. Everything will be okay.”

“Only a fool underestimates a Dragos. Go to the circus. Now!”

“Yes, ma’am.”
Right after I finished searching the penthouse for Ethel Rossi’s

medallion.

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Chapter Seven

The air shimmered around Fabian’s hair dryer. Hmmm. Why would it need

magical protection? Now if I could just remember the stupid incantation to get rid of

the spell.

The base of my skull tingled. A second later, Grams advised,
“Autem de gradali.”

“Thanks, Grams.”
I should have known she’d hang around.

“Those stupid incantations might save your life one day,”
Grams snipped.

“Yes, ma’am.”
I hated it when Grams invaded my privacy. I know she did it

because she loved me and wanted to keep me safe, but I wasn’t eight years old

anymore. I placed my hand on the dryer. “
Autem de gradali
.”

With a loud
pop
, the spell vanished, revealing an elder wood hex box covered with

protective runes. I opened it and gasped. Tentacles of dark magic crawled over a

tarnished gold medallion with a scarily real-looking demon’s head. I quickly shut the

box. That explained Fabian’s interest in Ethel. The medallion could be used to open a

gateway to hell.

The doorbell rang. Please, God, don’t let it be more love-struck old ladies. I