Mellizo Wolves (7 page)

“I
brought it up here last night.”

“Why?”

“I
promised myself we’d christen every room in the mansion with our love,” he
said, getting a glint in his eyes that she knew so well.

She shook
her head and laughed. “Not the nursery.”

“Definitely
the nursery. Best we do it now before you start your big decorating project.
Wouldn’t want to mess things up once you get the room the way you want it.”

He drew
her close and trailed warm kisses down her neck while he massaged her back, her
derriere. She felt a twinge between her legs. “All right.” She tried to relax
and not appear too eager as he lowered her to the air mattress. But when he
touched her with his long, warm fingers, she caught fire and tried to match him
touch for touch.

“Easy,”
he whispered into her ear. “Let’s keep it slow and rhythmic. I want to make the
kind of tender love to you that a man makes to a woman when he cherishes her to
the depths of his soul. And it has to be the appropriate lovemaking to christen
our precious unborn little girls' nursery.”

Angela
felt a rush of tears. No wonder she loved him. And slow was good. Oh, so
earth-shakingly good, she decided, as the sensations built like a crescendo and
then exploded into a sky full of fiery shooting stars.

They lay
together for a long time whispering and sharing dreams in their afterglow.
After a while, as the glow faded, she lifted herself on her elbow and she told
him of her less romantic plans. “I want you to hire someone to install a door
from our room into here. And I’ve been reading about some cool security gadgets
for children’s rooms. With the new equipment, no matter where I am in the
house, I can flip on a monitor remote with video and view the whole room and
hear even the slightest sounds.”

“We use a
similar system at my office. I’ll get my security team to set it up for you.”

“I have
lots of ideas you can help me with. And I’ll need your help painting and
papering.”

“No
painting while pregnant. I’ll hire someone to do that, too. You just tell me
what you want and I’ll see to it,” he said.

“Terrific.
That’s really sweet of you.” More strangers in the house, she thought,
shuddering.

 
* * * *

Weeks
later, when the projects were finished, she beamed. The painters had done an
excellent job. The security was installed and she, her mom, and Damon had
magically turned the room into a pink wonderland of twin baby furniture, soft,
cuddly toys, and musical mobiles. She only had a few more things to buy.

The next
day, coming down the escalator in a department store, she felt someone’s
chilling gaze on her. She turned and saw Dudley right behind her, sneering. He
thrust out an arm, feigning a push gesture. She tightened her grip on the
banister and screamed at the top of her lungs.

Just as
she hoped, everyone looked her way and Dudley disappeared.

When she
returned home, she was afraid to tell Damon—afraid he’d follow through on his
threat and kill the man. And then she’d lose her husband and her little girls’
daddy to jail.

The only
one she told was Kat, and it seems Kat told her boyfriend, Deeto, who shared
the information with his motorcycle buddies. Angela heard from Louise the
bookkeeper that when Dudley left work the next night, a gang of men made
hamburger out of his face. It was dark and he couldn’t identify his attackers,
but he told the police and anyone else who’d listen that he strongly suspected
the assault was led by Damon Lamont. While Dudley deserved the beating, Angela
worried he’d get revenge on her husband, who knew nothing of the attack. And
since Dudley was basically a coward, she expected the payback to be sneaky.

After
several days of fearing for Damon’s safety, she told him of the assault and
warned him of Dudley’s belief that he was behind it. She left out the part
about the escalator incident to keep Damon from going after the toad himself.

* * * *

As the
time grew closer to give birth, it seemed her worries continued to pile up.
But, somehow, with Damon’s constant assurances that everything would be fine,
she forced aside her fears.

When she
finally gave birth to her beautiful twin girls, she decided to give them strong
warrior names, Victoria, the victorious, and Valerie, the valiant. Victoria,
only minutes older, had wisps of shiny onyx hair, and Valerie had fuzz the
color of lemons. Otherwise the girls were identical. Their beauty took her
breath away. Both had heart-shaped faces, but somehow, Victoria seemed
stronger, more dominant, and her cry more demanding. Tears welled in Angela’s
eyes, and love and hope mushroomed in her heart.
Heavenly Father, let my
babies be as perfect as they look, and swath them in your protective love.

It had
taken a week for Angela to regain her strength after the grueling double birth.
It was a good thing she’d quit her job. Caring for the girls took up most of
her time and energy. In spite of her happiness, Madam Nola was constantly on
her mind. Angela sighed. Every time she thought about contacting the
unpredictable psychic, she remembered the mighty little medium had asked them
to wait until the first full moon after the twins’ third birthday to call.
Until then, she could only watch over her daughters and remain alert to even
the slightest indication of any transformation or behaviors that might reveal
they were afflicted with the curse. She frowned. It was sheer agony to wait.
She wanted things settled about her girls…wanted to know they were perfectly
normal.

Finally,
it was the first full moon after their third birthday and, with trembling
hands, she dialed.

The phone
rang a dozen times before the little psychic came on the line.

“Lovely
to hear from you, Angela,” she said in a perky voice. “How is the family?”

Angela
counted to ten. “That’s what we need you to tell us,” she said, unable to
conceal her impatience. Then, without any preliminaries, she blurted out,
“Please, we’d like your first available appointment.”

“Of
course, my dear, would two tomorrow afternoon work for you?”

Her heart
pounded. “Yes, yes, any time. We’ll be there.”

“Good. Be
sure to bring your girls.”

Angela
froze. “Is that necessary?”

“Absolutely.”

Angela
wanted to protest, but if this was the only way to learn her twins’ fate, she’d
have to bite the bullet and bring them along.

Later,
when she told Damon about it, he immediately called the spiritualist.
Apparently, Madam Nola convinced him the need was crucial and promised to
protect them from scary images.

When Angela and Damon went to bed, she couldn’t sleep. She was
both frightened and excited. Damon, as always, offered to massage her back to
relax her. His gaze darkened, but rather than danger, she saw only passion. His
golden and glinting velvety-brown eyes, although no longer feral, still dazzled
and devastated her. “Turn over,” he said in a commanding tone.

Wolf or
man, he was an alpha through and through. And his masculine confidence was his
most attractive and persuasive quality. She forced herself to breathe. “Only
because I want to,” she said in a low purr. But she was at his disposal. The
heat of his touch had already turned her body into a malleable handful of clay
to stroke and mold to his pleasure. And, happily, to her striving, shuddering
climax
.

* * * *

When
Damon pulled up to the curb outside Madam Nola’s house, Angela looked over her
shoulder into the backseat and said, “Thanks again for coming, Mom. Hopefully,
between the three of us, if necessary, we can block and divert the girls’
attention. Remember, if anything at all negative appears on the crystal, grab
their hands and hustle them back to the car.”

“I don’t
feel good about this,” Mom said, her eyes wary. “Let’s not take them in until
you make sure Madam Nola has a plan in place to protect my grandbabies from
scary images. When you signal that she does, I’ll bring them in.” Mom held up a
Little Red Riding Hood picture book. “We’ll be aptly entertained.”

Angela
frowned. “A wolf story—good grief, Mom.”

“No
worry. I’m making up my own version.”

Damon laughed. “I’d like to hear that account myself.”

Mom chuckled low in her throat. “I’ll bet you would.”

“Mom, you’re incorrigible,” Angela said as she and Damon
left the car. They paused and threw kisses to the twins, then headed up the flagstone
walkway.

Angela took a few steps and looked back.

Damon grabbed her hand. “It’s going to be okay.”

Angela nodded and tried to get over her uneasiness by
admiring the lush green landscaping and quaint architecture. “I wonder if our
little darlings will notice that Madam Nola’s home resembles a gingerbread
house.”

Damon snorted. “Maybe we should teach them early on that
looks can be deceiving.”

She blew out a gust of breath. “With comments like that,
you’re not helping me to chill out.” The fact that the front door stood ajar
didn’t help either. It was eerily quiet inside. Then she heard the lonely
flutter of wings. Her neck prickled. “Hello, anyone there?” She glanced at her
watch. “We’re right on time.” Her heart pounded. She called out again—more
silence.

“Are you sure she said two?” Damon asked.

“Positive.”

He rang the bell twice. Nothing. “Wait here,” he said.
“I’ll check around back.”

Damon had barely disappeared from sight when suddenly Madam
Nola appeared, barefoot, with her silver robe ripped at the shoulder. Without
her spiked heels, she was barely as tall as a third grader. Her crowns of
platinum-blonde curls were frazzled. The ruby and emerald crystals woven into
each kinky strand of hair hung by a thread. The wisps that usually coiled
around her ears looked damp and limp.

“What happened?” Angela asked.

“Someone broke in and slaughtered my Cockatoo, Ka,” Madam
Nola said around a pitiful sob. She was trembling like a Chihuahua pup. She
pressed her lips tightly together as if fighting to hold back more tears. Her
Egyptian made-up eyes were badly smudged and trails of black ran down her
flushed cheeks. After a moment, she wiped away the dampness with the hem of her
gown, leaving two black streaks. She lifted her chin. “When I came out of the
shower, the attacker jumped me, too. But, with Ba’s help, I fought him off.”

Damon rounded the house. “The slider glass is shattered and
it’s off its track,” he said. “And—” He froze, his eyes wide. “My God, what
happened?”

Angela glanced toward the Camry and held up her hand in a
stop gesture and mouthed, “Stay put.” Her mom nodded that she understood.

Madam Nola repeated her story to Damon then stepped aside
and invited them in.

The room was a chaos of feathers and blood. An acrid,
metallic odor hung in the room.

“I called the police,” Madam Nola said, her voice
high-pitched as though on the verge of hysteria.

Damon nodded, frowning.

Angela glanced at the sole
Cockatoo on its perch. Its scowling beady eyes, hooked beak, and sharp-looking
claws looked ready to attack at their first suspicious move. The
empty
perch
beside it swayed slightly as though the slaughtered parrot’s ghost still
remained, clinging to the last vestige of existence. A new rush of tears
moistened her eyes. To distract herself from her breaking heart, she studied
the room. The small, round table with a black lace tablecloth had only a velvet
cover thrown down on it like a discarded napkin.
Oh, God. Where is the
crystal ball?

Chapter Four

Angela scanned the rest of the room and sighed in relief
when she spied the crystal ball up against the drapes where it must have rolled
during the melee. She glanced at Damon and Madam Nola. Neither of them seemed
to have noticed it. She bent and lifted it up in both hands and gently placed
it in the center of the table.

Suddenly, a scene of the wild, hilly acreage behind the
mansion filled the flashing orb. A fiery hand reached into the soupy mud. When
it withdrew, its flaming fist was covered in ash. It hovered a moment then shot
deep into the earth, taking the ash with it.

Then the orb went totally black.

Madam Nola gasped. “That’s never happened before.”

“What?” Damon asked.

“The crystal ball has never come alive without my prompting
it.”

“What’s the significance?”

Before Madam Nola could answer, a male voice shouted,
“Police!”

Madam Nola called in a trembly voice, “Come in.”

Officer Haywood swaggered into the room followed by his
partner, Officer Montoya. Haywood stopped and glared at Damon. “You again,” he
said. “What do you know about all this?”