21
Being a hybrid was not the worst fate one could suffer in the immortal world.
For example, having a tail in both forms – a rare defect in the transformation of some lycanthropes and manticores – was quite a nuisance.
It significantly hindered free movement among mortals and was an absolute anti-aphrodisiac, at least for most creatures.
Another unfortunate destiny was being born into one of those fanatical witch covens who worshipped obscure deities and believed that drinking bodily fluids from their companions was the highest form of reverence.
Of course, one could also be a mortal brat with a penchant for gambling and violence, the proud owner of an expunged criminal record, and cursed with an ambitious mother who, by the time one turned eighteen, had realised her offspring would never amount to anything.
Yet she would continue to inflate her child’s ego with money, unable to face the reality that she’d failed as a parent.
Mrs. Vrabcheva, now Mrs. Bogdanova, aka Stilettos, had a red leather purse adorned with the same shiny details as her shoes.
She pulled out a gold credit card and handed it to the manager with a dismissive gesture.
Then she signed the receipt as though she were a celebrity caught giving autographs during a break.
The party, a gift for her son’s twentieth birthday, was clearly wrapping up early for her.
Some might assume she was stepping out to give her grown-up son some space.
Those who knew her better would say she was rushing for a rendezvous with a younger lover.
Zacharia understood she was leaving – for good.
Tonight, the wheel of the Mercedes wasn’t in the inexperienced hands of some powdered companion, but firmly in hers.
However, this time, Stilettos was retreating.
The game had proven bigger than her. Mrs. Bogdanova was so seasoned that she’d almost convinced Zacharia in her indifference to the late Kaliope Gazis’ picture.
Yes, she probably didn’t suspect her husband’s mistress was a witch, but the severed head was a message everyone could comprehend.
Her escape tonight was well planned. Her suitcases had been packed and sent to the airport by a hired man who would wait to hand them over.
So much effort to ensure no one knew Stilettos intended to leap from her son’s party onto a flight to Barcelona.
There, a friend married to a wealthy eighty-year-old Spaniard – who swallowed Viagra like vitamins and was expected to kick the bucket any day – would be waiting for her.
But the ‘old bastard still clung to life’.
Mrs. Bogdanova might have been meticulous in her secretive departure, but she’d forgotten the cardinal rule – poorly treated servants spill household secrets with eagerness, especially to strange men offering generous gifts.
Zacharia tailed Stilettos to the airport. She parked her car within the lines – a careful driver, even when she was leaving the Mercedes behind for good.
When the engine died, and the doors unlocked, Zacharia slid into the passenger seat. “I admire women who respect the art of driving.”
“Hey… You again?!” Stilettos’ eyes darted from Zacharia to the empty parking lot.
He lifted an eyebrow. “I’m no longer a ‘fun rendezvous’?”
“You never were!” she snapped. “I’m in a hurry, darling. Get out, or I’ll scream.”
“No, you won’t. Because you don’t want to attract attention.”
“For heaven’s sake…”
“Now shut up and listen.”
She gripped the steering wheel, her leg twitching beneath it. Her body language suggested she didn’t perceive Zacharia as a threat, more as an annoyance hindering her escape from the real danger.
He spoke in a much more serious tone, “I sense you’re not the type for long explanations, so I’ll get straight to the point. I’m a hybrid – half lycanthrope, half vampire.”
“You’re also pretty insane, boy…”
“Boy?” Zacharia smiled. “Would you believe me if I told you I’m over five hundred years old?”
Stilettos glanced at the watch on her wrist. “No. And I have a flight to catch soon. Look, I still don’t understand what you want from me, and I don’t know how you got that photo of my ex-husband’s dead mistress—”
“So you believe me when I say it’s not Photoshopped.”
“—and frankly, I don’t care.” She bared her teeth. “I just want to board that damn plane and never hear about any of this again!”
“‘Any of this’? What exactly are you talking about?” Zacharia studied her with interest. “Could it be something… like this?”
He allowed the murky demon within him to reveal its shadowy contours, just enough for her to glimpse, to get an idea, but not enough to describe later. It was a violation of the Tribunal’s rules, a blatant attempt at psychological terror.
Stilettos held her breath, her dilated pupils fixed on him. Her posture betrayed fear, but surprise? Definitely not.
Back in his human form, Zacharia shrugged. “I’m not the finest specimen out there. There are far more refined examples – pure lycanthropes, pure vampires, necromancers, witches…”
“Shut up!” she screamed, eyes flashing. “I don’t want to know any more. I want nothing to do with your band of abominations that drove my husband insane!”
Zacharia placed a hand over his heart. “Abominations? That’s a bit harsh. Hybrids, maybe, but the pure species…”
Stilettos slammed her hand against the steering wheel.
“I told you, I don’t want to know! Those fantasies destroyed my husband.
That’s why he was… murdered,” she said through gritted teeth.
“For years, he talked about these ‘creatures’ – immortals no one knew about. He was obsessed with them, showing me drawings, trying to make me believe this nonsense. I begged him to see a psychiatrist, but he refused… Then he stopped with that nonsense. Stopped talking to me about them… stopped talking to me at all.”
Interesting. Kaliope Gazis hadn’t just been involved with a human; she’d revealed the existence of the immortal world to him. “So, I suppose he started talking about immortals after his mistress appeared?”
“No! That whore showed up after he went mad!” Stilettos hissed. “When I refused to listen to his fairy tales, he found a stupid mistress to dump them on.”
Zacharia frowned. “So you’re saying he started talking about immortals first, and Kaliope only appeared after that?”
“Oh, I can just imagine her batting her eyelashes, nodding at every bit of his nonsense while thinking, ‘What luck I’ve got, landing this lunatic with so much money!’”
“What happened next?” Zacharia asked.
“What happened?” She laughed bitterly. “His madness not only ruined our family, but it also affected his work. He even started talking about those damned creatures to his colleagues! He was going to disgrace our entire family…”
“And you decided to have him killed?”
She scoffed. “Me? No. With the way he was behaving, he was threatening others as well. All I had to do was tell someone where he met that stupid mistress.”
“Who did you tell?”
Stilettos’ face twisted with emotion. All those cosmetic procedures she’d undoubtedly undergone could no longer hide her true age. “Petrov.”
“Who’s Petrov?”
“A general.”
Zacharia rifled through his memories, but nothing came up. “General Petrov? Never heard of him.”
“Lucky you…” she whispered.
“So you’re running from this general?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she reached with trembling fingers for the mirror on her side and opened it to examine her makeup.
“Now you understand your husband wasn’t crazy, don’t you?” Zacharia asked.
Stilettos hissed, “If only he had agreed to see a psychiatrist instead of falling into her clutches…”
“Your husband wasn’t insane,” Zacharia interrupted, suddenly feeling compelled to defend that poor bastard’s memory. Then, deciding it was time to leave, he added, “Have a pleasant flight, Mrs. Bogdanova.” With that, he stepped out of the car.