Getting What You Want (26 page)

He waved for them to follow, which all four did.

“Oh, Vittorio,” Maggie said, pausing by the full-size sculpture Erika had done of him. “This is wonderful.”

The piece was amazing, no thanks to him. Erika had captured something in him, yet again, that he hadn’t even realized was there. But his attention was quickly pulled away from the piece as Ren murmured, “Holy shit.”

Frowning, he followed his brother’s gaze.

“I believe this is the model who contacted her this afternoon,” the gallery owner said.

“Holy shit,” Ren repeated.

And that didn’t even begin to do the moment justice. They were all staring at the sculpture, Ren and Vittorio aghast, while Maggie and Jo just looked, trying to understand the two brothers’ reactions.

“Do you know this woman?” Jo finally asked.

Ren nodded, then laughed, the sound more shocked than amused. Vittorio wasn’t amused at all. He was scared, deep-to-the-marrow-of-his-bones scared.

“Yeah, we know her,” Ren finally answered. “She’s our mother.”

E
rika watched Orabella as she circled and circled the table, now holding a sheet of tattered notebook paper, reading something from it that sounded like gibberish.

Erika had also noticed that there was something like an altar to the left of her. The small table was covered with a black tablecloth, and two black candles burned in heavy silver candlesticks. A chalice was centered between the two candles along with some bottles of what appeared to be herbs and oils. In front of all of that was a large, very menacing-looking dagger. The edge glinted in the candlelight, sharp and deadly.

“What are you doing?” she demanded of Orabella, getting the distinct feeling that when the chanting portion of this ritual ended, bad, bad things were going to happen.

Orabella ignored her, still mumbling her incantation or whatever it was.

“Vittorio will come for me,” Erika said, knowing her voice sounded high and panicked.

That did cause Orabella to pause, losing her train of thought, but only for a fraction of a second, then she continued on, her voice louder than before.

“He will come, and he’s going to be very angry with you.”

More chanting was Orabella’s only reply.

“Do you really think all of this will get him to be with you?”

More chanting, then when Orabella had circled around the table to stand behind her head, the chanting in that awful singsong tone stopped.

Erika tried to tilt her head back far enough to see her, but the bindings were too tight and she couldn’t angle herself enough to see anything. And the silence was even worse than the weird words half spoken, half sung.

Her breath came in short, harsh puffs, and she tried to calm herself. Hyperventilating and passing out were not going to help this situation in the least.

She needed to slow Orabella down. Down from what, she wasn’t sure, but she knew something bad was going to happen. Clearly no good could come of being strapped to a table by a madwoman who also had a sharp knife.

Orabella then appeared to her left, at the altar. Where said knife waited.

Erika swallowed, trying to calm herself. “There have got to be better ways to try and reach him,” she said. “I just don’t think this is going to have the effect you want from him.”

Orabella remained with her back toward her. She had the dog-eared notebook paper set up against one of the candlesticks and she worked with the herbs and oils, mixing them. She didn’t appear to hear a word Erika was saying.

But Erika had to keep trying. “Orabella, don’t you think just talking to him would work better? How is he going to forgive you for this?”

As she babbled on, saying anything she could think of to reason with this crazy woman, she kept trying to move her wrists, hoping to loosen the cords.

“You are making a big mistake.”

“Do you think so?” Orabella said, turning toward Erika, the chalice and the dagger in her hands as she approached the table. “Why?” she asked, her tone more bored than curious.

Erika glanced at the dagger—it glistened dangerously in the candlelight. Erika swallowed. “Vittorio is the type who hates violence.”

Orabella paused. “Yes, I suppose that’s true.”

“It is,” Erika said, moving her gaze away from the frightening knife to Orabella’s face, trying to read her expression.

The blonde seemed to be considering the idea. She slowly twirled the stem of the silver chalice between her fingers.

“What is he going to think? How is this going to make him want to be with you?”

Orabella continued to twist the chalice, lost in her thoughts.

Erika tugged at the restraints. “Please, Orabella, don’t do this. Vittorio won’t understand. He won’t be able to forgive this.”

Orabella’s eyes flicked back up to her. “Now that’s where you are wrong. I’m going to give him something that will finally make him understand how much I love him. He will forgive me.”

Erika shook her head, preparing to tell her that he wouldn’t. That he’d been very angry. But those words never made it to her lips. Only a scream reached them as Orabella, with a speed so lightning-fast Erika could barely register the movement, was at the table. Orabella placed the chalice on the table beside her, and captured Erika’s hand.

Erika struggled, but her captor easily turned her hand palm up, and with that same blinding swiftness, sliced her.

Erika cried out again, this time the sound laced with pain.

“There, there,” Orabella clucked. “This is nearly done.”

She positioned Erika’s bleeding palm over the chalice, and they both watched, one with horrified shock, the other with smug satisfaction as the blood dripped into the cup.

After how long Erika didn’t know, Orabella released her. “That should do.”

She didn’t look at Erika as she strolled back to her makeshift altar and began to add herbs and oils to Erika’s blood.

Now Erika squirmed on the table, yanking violently at the cords which cut into her skin, oblivious to the pain. She was too terrified, too desperate. She had to escape.

She began to scream, shouting out for help.

“Do be quiet,” Orabella hissed over her shoulder. “Not a soul can hear you.”

Erika didn’t stop.

Orabella turned back to her work, then after several moments, turned back to Erika, the chalice cupped between her two hands. She began to chant again.

“Please, Orabella, please don’t do this.” Tears rolled out of the corners of Erika’s eyes.

Orabella didn’t look at her. She began to circle the table again, lost in her chanting.

“Please,” Erika begged. She knew she sounded pathetic, her voice cracking with her fear. “Please.”

The chant continued, then finally Orabella stopped at the end of the table. She stared at Erika for what seemed like minutes, though it was likely only seconds.

“There’s no point begging,” Orabella said with an almost apologetic look on her face. “It is done.”

She raised the chalice, shouted out two more words, then the room was filled with deafening noise, like lightning striking right there in the room. Blinding flashes, huge booms that shook the walls and caused Erika to scream. And even above all that fury, she could still hear Orabella laughing. A triumphant laugh.

“It is done!”

“What’s going on?” Maggie asked, her gaze going back and forth between the two brothers.

“It’s our mother,” Ren answered, because Vittorio couldn’t. He was too filled with sickening dread.

“What about her?” Jo frowned, her gaze moving to each of them, trying to understand. “What does she have to do with Erika?”

“Vittorio thinks our mother may have—”

“We have to find her.” Vittorio cut him off, his unwillingness to hear Ren say the words forcing him out of his stunned state. He couldn’t hear, couldn’t believe she wasn’t okay. But they had to find her—quickly.

“How are we supposed to do that?” Ren asked. “We don’t have any idea where she could be.”

Panic rose in Vittorio’s chest. “We have to do something.”

Before Ren could respond, the door to the gallery opened. They all turned to see who entered. Vittorio prayed it was Erika, but instead it was a tall man, looking a little disheveled and rumpled. Clearly out of place for a catered art show.

The man glanced around, then his eyes centered on Vittorio. He didn’t hesitate, but walked straight toward him.

“Your mother has her.”

Vittorio stared at the man. Then he quickly sensed this wasn’t a man. Preternatural vibes radiated off this being like heat waves off hot tarmac.

“Where?” Vittorio had many more questions, but this was the one of most importance at the moment.

“A house in the Garden District—that’s all I know.”

That was all Vittorio needed to hear. Erika had told him about the house where she’d been going to sculpt this Isabel Andrews. How lovely it was.

Vittorio started toward the door, when Ren caught his arm.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I know where she is,” Vittorio said.

“I’m coming with you,” Ren said, releasing his elbow and falling into step beside him.

“Shouldn’t we all go?” Maggie asked.

“No,” Ren said instantly. “We will be fine. We’ve had to deal with this woman for years.”

Vittorio agreed, but he didn’t say anything. He just doubled his steps. She had to be okay.

Maksim didn’t speculate too closely on why he’d come to find Vittorio. The deed certainly wasn’t one that would normally come naturally to him. Altruism and demon were two words rarely used in the same sentence.

Perhaps the two weeks stuck in a bed with nothing and no one to do had caused him to snap. Or at the very least forced him to think.

And he’d want someone to come to him if they knew anything about Ellina. And he supposed Orabella’s sons truly hating her was enough punishment for the crazy bitch.

“How do you know where Erika is?”

Maksim turned his attention away from the doorway to look down at a petite, curvy, strawberry blonde. Maggie, he realized from being in Erika’s mind.

“I know their mother.”

“Do you know Ren and Vittorio?” The woman was clearly confused about where he came into all this.

“Not really.”

Maggie frowned, studying him. She knew he was preternatural, and she was suspicious. Smart woman. But in this case, he was really only trying to help.

“Is she okay?”

For the first time, Maksim noted the woman just behind Maggie. Jo, he recognized, again from Erika’s memories.

Although her memories hadn’t done this mortal justice. She was lovely. And she narrowed dark brown eyes at him, clearly trying to decide if he could be trusted.

Not most of the time. “I hope she’s okay,” he answered, and realized it was the truth. All this concern and sympathy—weird.

“So how do you know her?” Jo stepped forward to stand next to her friend. This mortal obviously couldn’t sense he was something other than human, but she still found him suspect. Smart woman, too.

“I’ve met her a couple times. And I used to see Vittorio and Ren’s mother.”

Jo raised an eyebrow and he imagined that she thought he was a tad too young for the mother of children as old as Ren and Vittorio. Little did she know.

She studied him with those coffee-brown eyes, trying to read him. Which he found strangely unnerving—and a little arousing too. Clearly fallout of being trapped in a bed for days. Alone.

He turned away from the two rather intense women, only to be greeted by two life-size sculptures of Vittorio and Orabella.

He blinked at the image. Then glanced back at the women.

“Wow, that’s a nice addition to a bizarre few weeks.”

Vittorio moved rapidly through the streets, trying to cling to the shadows so no mortals would see how fast he was moving, if they could see him at all. Ren followed.

He reached the address Erika had mentioned.

“Is this it?”

Vittorio double-checked the number, then took in the grounds. It fit her description perfectly. And he could sense Erika nearby, could sense her fear. Still, fear was better than other options. If he could feel her fear, then she was alive.

“Yes, this is it.”

He pushed open the gate, and hurried up the front walk. As was to be expected, the front door was locked. He didn’t even hesitate, but faded to shadow, slipping under the door.

Once inside, he rematerialized and looked around. The place was dark, no lights on. Ren materialized beside him.

They both listened. The house was quiet. But Vittorio could feel Erika there. Somewhere.

“I don’t hear anyone,” Ren said, “but I think Mother is here.”

Vittorio nodded.

They took a few steps farther into the room, when a loud crash like a thunderclap sounded from above them. The ceiling vibrated and the chandelier overhead swayed, the crystals jangling.

Neither brother spoke as they swiftly moved through to the sweeping staircase in the center of the main level. Once up the stairs, it didn’t take them long to locate the room where Erika had to be. Light and her energy, riddled with terror, seeped around the door frame.

Vittorio glanced at Ren before reaching for the doorknob. His brother shook his head and gestured for him to simply break it down. Vittorio only debated that idea for a second, then decided maybe a surprise entrance would be the best bet. Maybe the commotion would throw off their mother, making it harder for her to escape. And shifting and rematerializing would waste needed energy.

He looked at Ren again, then held up his fingers to count to three. When his third finger came up, he rammed his shoulder into the oak door. The wood splintered, and both brothers raced inside.

But instead of creating the surprise they intended, they were the ones stunned by the scene before them.

E
rika lay lashed to a rectangular dining table in the center of the room, her eyes wild and disoriented. She didn’t even appear to know Vittorio was there.

Orabella was positioned at the end of the table, a wide, pleased smile curling her lips, not appearing the least bit surprised by the arrival of her sons. She was with a tall woman—at least Vittorio assumed it was a woman from the breasts evident under the encasement of leather that made up her clothing. Other than breasts and a semblance of clothing, the creature looked only vaguely humanoid, with reptilian eyes and skin, and her lower half was that of a goat.

“Just in time, my pet,” Orabella said cheerfully to Vittorio. Her smile slipped slightly when she noticed Ren. But she didn’t let the appearance of her disliked son dampen her joy. She walked over to Vittorio.

Raising a hand, she tried to stroke his cheek, but he jerked away.

“My love, don’t be that way. We haven’t seen each other for so long. Does our reunion have to be like this?”

Vittorio’s eyes widened. “How else would you expect it to go? You abducted the woman I love and have her tied to a table.”

“And I don’t even know what’s up with the reptile chick,” Ren commented, eyeing the creature warily.

“Shut up,” Orabella hissed. Then she moved away from Vittorio and toward the creature. But she stopped several feet from the lizard chick, as Ren had aptly dubbed her. Then Vittorio noticed a pentagram created from iron filings—the creature was a demon.

“I’m not impressed either,” the creature said, her voice surprisingly beautiful and elegant, given her appearance.

“Aosoth, this is my son. The one I want you to be with,” Orabella said by way of introduction.

“Mmm, not my usual type, but quite lovely nonetheless.” The demon licked her lips. Her tongue was forked.

Vittorio stared, appalled and confused. “Mother, you are mad. This is your plan? To matchmake me to a demon?”

Orabella laughed as if he’d just said the most delightful thing. “Oh, hardly, dear.” Then she touched a finger to her lips. “Well, you will have to—well, you know, be with her—to have the ritual work.”

Vittorio made a face. “What?”

“Yes, Mother, what ritual? What fabulous idea have you come up with now?” Ren asked mockingly.

Orabella turned her attention to her other son, sneering at him. “You have no part in this. Just leave.”

Ren moved a little closer to her. “No way, Mumsie. I want in on this scheme. What’s the plan? Do tell.”

Vittorio glanced over at Erika. Her skin was pale, tinged gray. She watched the scene, but from the distant look in her eyes, it was clear she wasn’t taking it in. She was in shock. Which at the moment might not be a bad thing. He wanted to move toward her, but didn’t dare. Mother had clearly snapped.

“So the plan?” Ren prodded. “I want to know. And if it’s good, I want in.”

Orabella laughed humorlessly. “Not hardly.”

Ren moved closer, getting between Vittorio and his mother.

“It’s the least you can do, having ruined my ability to write original music.”

Orabella laughed again, although this time the sound was smug and gleeful. “That was brilliance, I have to admit.”

“You are such a petty, pathetic woman,” Ren stated.

Vittorio stared at his brother. What was he doing? They needed to be focused on Erika. The two of them could take Orabella and then go to Erika. But Ren was too busy arguing to be of any help.

“I can just as easily have Aosoth take you as a sacrifice too,” Orabella gritted out, her full attention on her hated son.

“As long as I get someone for this irksome interruption,” Aosoth muttered as she apathetically inspected her long, clawlike nails. Then she glanced at Ren.

“You will, my exalted one,” Orabella assured the creature.

While Orabella’s attention was turned to the demon, Ren gave Vittorio a quick sidelong glance, then looked toward Erika.

Ah, that was what Ren was doing. Creating a diversion. Sometimes his older brother surprised him.

Carefully, Vittorio took a step toward the table, not wanting to draw any attention to himself.

“So what do you get for giving Erika to—what was it…Asshole?”

The demon growled low in her throat. “Aosoth! Oh, yes, I’d like to take this puny vampire back to hell with me.”

“Sorry, Aosoth-baby, I’m already spoken for,” Ren said sweetly.

Vittorio continued to move closer and closer to Erika. Ren was remarkably good at keeping the attention of both their mother and the demon. And soon, without anyone but Ren realizing, he’d reached Erika.

He touched her arm, and she flinched. Her eyes were unfocused, like they had been during her night terrors.

“It’s okay, darling,” he whispered, his lips barely moving. He hoped since they were bonded she could hear him, take comfort from him. But he couldn’t tell. The shock was too much for her.

He carefully reached for the cord around the wrist closest to him, working the tight knot, noting the red welts and bits of blood from where she’d struggled.

Erika, I will keep you safe. You have to trust me.

Erika heard Vittorio’s voice in her head. His voice was smooth, soothing. Even though her mind had shut down, he still reached her, through the panic and horror that clouded her mind and numbed her.

She felt his hands at her wrist, working the restraints free.

Trust me.

Erika wanted to, but she couldn’t comprehend what she’d just seen. Flashes of light, blue and blinding. Noise like being trapped in a thundercloud. And then the appearance of that…thing. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t.

She forced herself to focus on the gentle touch at her wrist. At the voice in her head.

I will take care of you. I’ll protect you.

She compelled her eyes to blink. Then blink again until slowly the cloud of terror lifted enough for her to see outside of herself.

Slowly she turned her head. Vittorio was there. At least she thought it was him. She wasn’t sure what was real at the moment.

“I’m really here,” Vittorio whispered, although she was fairly certain she hadn’t spoken.

She felt the cord around her right wrist loosen and drop away. Then Vittorio’s fingers were gently rubbing her wrist. She vaguely registered the sting of her tender skin.

For a moment, Vittorio moved out of her line of sight, and she panicked, making a frightened noise low in her throat.

“Shh.” His fingers returned to her, working on the other wrist. She tried to calm herself, to gather her stunned wits.

Beyond Vittorio’s calming words and touch, she recognized Ren’s voice. And Orabella’s. They snipped at each other, Ren’s tone mocking and derisive, Orabella’s sharp and angry.

Then she heard a smooth, cultured voice, the one that had to belong that…that creature.

“I believe my trussed chicken is being set free.”

Orabella and Ren did react immediately. Then all hell seemed to break loose. Vittorio’s hands were gone. Ren shouted and Orabella made a noise like an enraged banshee.

Erika, even though she felt oddly disembodied, braced her free arm against the table, struggling to roll so she could see what was happening.

A scuffle had ensued with the two brothers trying to subdue the slighter, petite Orabella. The small woman was giving them a run for their money.

“Mother,” Vittorio growled as the woman came at him with clawed hands. “Stop this now.”

Hearing Vittorio’s reference to this woman was like icy water dumped over her head. Mother? Isa—Orabella was Vittorio’s mother? Nausea rose up in her throat, gagging her.

“I’m doing all this for you,” Orabella cried. “Can’t you see that? I’ve found a way to give you back the sun.”

Vittorio shook his head, clearly not following.

“I can,” Orabella said, looking at him hopefully. “I can give you back the sun. I can make you what you were before your undeath.”

Erika blinked. Undeath? She knew what she’d seen here wasn’t normal, wasn’t even possible, at least in the world where she’d come from. But she’d never believed that Vittorio was somehow a part of this. She’d never thought Vittorio was not—human?

“Mother, you can’t ever make me like I was,” Vittorio said, glaring at the little woman in front of him.

“I can,” she said, sounding almost pleading. “I can. And then you can stay with me. Like we once were.”

“You can’t make it like it was. That was gone the moment you selfishly made me like you. That was gone when you forced me to take energy from women until they were nearly dead. When you forced me to take energy from you.”

“Which is really sick,” Ren added.

Orabella whipped around to glare at her other son. “You know nothing of this.”

Erika watched as Ren seemed to be pinned to the wall by an invisible force. Color drained from his face.

“You’d do well to remember I am your mother. And I’m your creator. You can never be stronger than me.”

Ren actually began to slide down the wall, his eyes rolling back, his limbs falling limp, unable to hold him.

“You’re going to kill him,” Vittorio shouted and Orabella’s attention turned back to him.

“Perhaps I should kill him. The liar has poisoned your mind against me. Filling you with all this nonsense about what I did for you when you were newly changed. Your brother doesn’t love you. He’s jealous of you. You were my favorite, he knew that. He was an accident. You were my love.”

“Ren is the only reason I’ve managed to go on. He actually taught me how to survive. How to survive without hurting others,” Vittorio said, his voice low.

“See, more of his lies,” Orabella shot back. She turned back to Ren, hatred clear in her expression. Ren had crumpled to the floor.

“Is that what happened to my father?” Vittorio suddenly asked, an almost stunned quality to his tone. “Did you kill him too, for not agreeing with your ideas of parenting? For making it clear how selfish and manipulative you were?”

Orabella’s eyes returned to Vittorio. “I did what I had to do to keep you with me. I love you, darling. You and I are the same person. Two halves of a whole.”

Vittorio made a noise of disgust. “We are nothing alike. Just tell me, Mother, what about the women? What happened to them?”

Erika listened to the exchange, only half comprehending what they said. Her eyes kept returning to Ren, praying he was just faking. That he wasn’t hurt. He needed to help Vittorio. Help her.

She heard a movement down by her feet. Her eyes darted in that direction. The lizard-looking creature stood there watching the scene along with Erika. Her yellow eyes met Erika’s and the creature smirked. Erika suppressed a frightened whimper.

God, she had to escape, and while she didn’t understand what Vittorio and Ren were, they were her only hope. She did understand that Orabella and the lizard-thing were deadly.

Her look returned to Ren, who still lay motionless on the floor. She glanced back to Vittorio.

“What about the other women?” he demanded again.

Orabella hesitated, her hand going out as if she wanted to touch him, but she didn’t.

“I had to do it, Vittorio. They weren’t good enough for you. They weren’t worthy.”

“So you killed them.”

At Vittorio’s flatly stated words, more fear chilled her.
Killed? This had happened before?
And from the sound, it was several women. She closed her eyes briefly, trying to gain some calm.

“I had to,” Orabella said as she held out her hands in a beseeching way. “Just like with
her.
” She turned slightly to gesture to Erika. “I have to do it. For your own good.”

She stepped forward and touched Vittorio’s cheek. “I’m the only woman who can truly be worthy of you. Who can love you as you should be loved.”

She rose up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to Vittorio’s. Erika stared in silent horror. Everything about this was unnatural and horrific. It was like every nightmare, every horror movie, every V. C. Andrews novel rolled into one.

Erika stopped watching the disturbing scene in front of her and tried to work on the cord holding her other wrist. Vittorio had managed to unknot some of the tight bonds, but from this angle and without being able to see what she was doing, she couldn’t get the knots undone.

She whimpered in frustration. She couldn’t just lie there listening to this, watching the bizarre drama taking place before her, and wait to be killed.

She crammed her free hand into her jeans pocket, hoping, praying for something that she might use to saw at the knot. The only thing in her pocket was her ancient cell phone.

She wrestled with it, her hand getting caught in her pocket because of the awkward angle. Finally she pulled it out, nearly dropping it over the edge of the table. Fumbling to wedge her thumb under the cover, she flipped it open and peered at the screen. No backlight, no graphics, nothing. The damned thing was dead.

She made a whimpering noise, then her attention was drawn away from the dead cell, back to Vittorio.

Orabella no longer touched him. Instead he’d switched positions and had her pinned to the wall, his hand at her throat. From the bulging eyes and gaped mouth, Erika could see Vittorio was using powerful strength on the woman—the whatever she was.

“When are you going to realize I hate you for what you’ve done. Taking away my father, killing people I cared about, making me believe I was only able to survive through you.”

Orabella made a choking sound and dug her fingers into the hand clamped to her throat. “I—I did it—all—for you.”

Vittorio laughed, the sound a harsh, humorless bark. “No, you did it all for yourself.”

She continued pulling at his fingers. “I love you.”

Vittorio shook his head. “No, you love yourself. Only yourself. And you aren’t even worth my contempt.”

He released her, his shoulders slumping as if he just couldn’t take anymore. “Leave me alone. If you don’t, I will find some way to kill you. I will.”

She collapsed back against the wall, her hand to her throat, rubbing the place where he’d strangled her. “You can’t mean that.”

“I do. I never want to see you again. And I want you to stay away from Erika, or I will find some way to stop you for good. Even if it takes a stake through your goddamned heart.”