Chapter 35
35
Samantha
Ramone was probably correct in his assessment of his status as a wealthy man; I knew how this world generally worked. “You can only kill so many people before whatever protection you have isn’t quite enough,” I said pointedly. “Try to control yourself.” This wasn’t a conversation I’d ever imagined myself having.
“If it makes you feel better, I’ll only kill those who deserve it from now on.”
Tilting my head, I eyed him. He smirked.
He continued to lead me away from where we’d been with the senator, and we ended up near his friends. “Samantha, this is Ilya, Alexander, and Ivan.” Ramone introduced the men who formed a half circle around us.
Ilya was the man with a scar down the side of his face, and I remembered spotting Alexander at the cancer fundraiser. I’d never seen Ivan before, that I remembered. He was slightly shorter than the others, but no less attractive with his fine clothing and thick hair. He had what looked like three-day-old stubble covering his jaw and appeared less tense than his companions.
Ramone and Ilya seemed to have an energy about them that anticipated a crisis or some type of danger. They both kept scanning the room with their eyes as if searching for something. I ran my thumb over Ramone’s knuckles, trying to soothe him, and was answered with a light squeeze before he let go and put his hands in his pockets.
“Where is Stefan?” He questioned Ilya.
Ilya lit a cigarette and took a long drag. “Somewhere. He didn’t leave.” Ash fell on his shoe, and he glanced down at it and tapped it off. “Something’s wrong. You can feel it, right?”
“Yes,” Ramone said, tensing further.
“What’s going on?” I asked, looking at the two men before turning my gaze to Ramone.
“Ivan, did you ever drink the blood wine?”
Ivan glanced at Ramone. “I don’t think I ever had that privilege.” Ramone nodded.
Ilya took a long drag of his cigarette and tossed it into a glass of water on the table beside us. “It might be only the two of us affected, Ramone. Stefan hasn’t had the same severity of symptoms and Matthew hasn’t complained to me. Alexander seems okay, for the most part.” He turned to who I guessed was Alexander. “Did you ever drink any? I can’t remember if you did.” No one answered him.
As if the mention of his name had conjured him, I spotted Matthew in the distance, walking through the entrance to the hall. He veered to the right and scanned us with a cursory glance.
“Would someone fill me in please?” I had no idea if it was any of my business, but the conversation was bizarre enough I wanted more information.
Ramone took a deep breath before answering. “I’ve told you bits and pieces but there was a curse placed on a beverage some of us enjoyed that changed things for several of us.”
“A curse?”
Ilya spoke up, “Thanks to your piece of shit demon boyfriend.” Ramone gave him a cruel smile while Ivan watched with interest.
“He’s not a demon,” I objected, giving Ilya a dirty look.
Ivan snickered and said, “Have fun with this one. I’ll see you guys later, try not to make a scene.” Alexander followed him, leaving the three of us.
The man left, leaving me puzzled. “Why would you make a scene? What symptoms?”
“Sweetheart, I’ve told you before what I am. Remember the decay where I took you? Part of the curse, we believe.” He ran a hand up my arm and I leaned into him.
“Just do us all a favor and believe what he tells you. The curse is working in your favor. I’ve never seen him act like this before, with any woman.”
I glanced at Ilya. For a moment he’d looked heartbroken, before his countenance returned to the angry and smug expression he appeared to favor. “Okay,” I replied, unsure of what to say.
“The wine he mentioned gave us some human traits and emotions we did not possess before, not in the capacity we do now,” Ramone explained. “We believe it has to do with my and Ilya’s ex, Kiara.”
“Both of your ex?”
“Yes,” Ramone said.
Ilya’s eyes briefly glowed red, in the same manner that Ramone’s glowed green occasionally. “That’s debatable,” he said.
Ramone pursed his lips and ignored Ilya’s snide remark.
“We should go,” Ilya said, placing his hands on his hips and turning in a circle. I didn’t miss the dual shoulder holsters under his unbuttoned jacket and gave Ramone a quick look.
The air seemed to shift inside the hall, but I couldn’t ascertain whether it was the sight of the guns or if something else was responsible for my sudden unease. I received my answer when Ilya and Ramone glanced at each other quickly.
“We’re leaving,” Ramone said.
Ilya went in one direction, and we headed in the other. Turning my head, I tried to see where he went but Ramone was walking so quickly, I was tripping over my feet.
We passed my parents, my mother smiling prettily at me as we passed her and my father. I didn’t return the gesture.
Expecting us to have headed for the exit, I was surprised to find we were in another large but sparsely furnished room. My heels sounded across the marble flooring until Ramone stopped. He let go of my hand and scanned the room, pulling his phone from the inside of his suit jacket. “Stay right next to me,” he warned.
He held his phone up to his ear, said “thank you” to somebody, and put his phone away.
“Who was that? What is going on?”
Ramone’s chest rose and fell. “I’m not positive but I believe my father is up to something.”
“Your dad? Why?” I spun around looking at our surroundings; there was no one in the room and it had an almost sterile quality. “You’ve never mentioned your parents.”
“I don’t have a mother. I don’t know who she was, could be anyone. My father is a deceptively dangerous man and I have as little to do with him as possible.” Concern was etched on his face.
I teased, trying to break the tension, “The devil has parents?” Anxiety was building inside me, and I wanted it to stop, I wanted to go home.
Ramone’s mouth slid to the side. “I do. My father has certain expectations for me that I have failed to live up to recently.”
“And what’s that?” I knew all too well the weight of failing to live up to expectations.
“For one, I didn’t kill my ex, and secondly—I didn’t choose a woman he would approve of. Instead, I chose you.”
Stunned, I replied, “I don’t want to interfere with your family.”
“Sweetheart, you’re not. And do you really think I’d give you up, let you go?” Ramone slowly stalked toward me. “That’s not going to happen.”
It was getting harder to think. The air held an ominous quality, reminding me of the threat Ramone had said was aimed at me, making me a target. Supposedly I’d come from a long line of witches. Matthew and Ammar had sought me out for this reason—Ammar because of my visions and Matthew due to my lineage, supposedly. I didn’t have enough knowledge to fully understand what was going on. It made sense I’d run a shop like the one I owned, in light of the revelations. I just didn’t expect this outcome, to have all these strange things happen to me or to feel as connected to this man as I did.
The fact was, I barely knew Ramone, not really. I didn’t even know his birthday or his favorite color. But at the same time, I felt like I knew him. The strange and compelling connection between us had me feeling as if I’d always known him even though I had no explanation for why that’d be possible.
“What’s your favorite color?” I asked, suddenly.
Ramone whipped his head around, brows furrowed. “What? Black.”
“Why am I not surprised. Your favorite food?”
“You.” He huffed, as if I should’ve known the answer. “Why are you asking these asinine questions?”
Yes, the timing was off, but they seemed essential. I wasn’t sure I’d get another chance to ask. “They’re important; I barely know you.” He scoffed at my words.
The lights dimmed in the room before the air appeared to take on an orange tint in the corners of my peripheral vision. Every time I moved my head to double-check what I thought I saw, it disappeared.
“I don’t think we can leave,” Ramone said solemnly, walking back over to me. “You do know me,” he said, trying to reassure me after several seconds passed.
He grabbed my arm, hanging on to me as if I’d escape. “The things I do know, they aren’t exactly favorable,” I remarked.
“Yet you keep coming back for more. May I remind you I’ve never hurt you?”
It was my turn to scoff. “Remember that time you imprisoned me for a year?”
“I look forward to hearing about that for eternity.” Ramone looked resigned.
Continuing with my line of questioning, I asked, “What was your childhood like?”
If I’d thought to take a photo of the incredulous look on his face I would’ve. “Childhood? Have you met my father? I think you’re about to.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
He was pacing short steps in front of me now, glancing at me before turning his attention back to our surroundings. I was distracting him with questions while he had a lot on his mind, I could tell. “I don’t remember much of being a child, of my early years, it was so long ago. I’m not positive I ever was one.”
Finally, I caught the orange mist in a corner. Staring at it, I dared it to vanish, thinking my eyes were playing tricks on me. “That’s an odd thing to say. How old are you?”
“Several hundred years. Leave the inquisition for when we get home.”
“Home?”
Ramone leveled a stern gaze at me. “Samantha, I’m trying?—”
“Hello darlings, did I interrupt your first fight?”
Whirling around, I was faced with a man with bright blond hair and blindingly blue eyes. Ramone yanked me to the side, out of the reach of the individual who’d appeared out of nowhere.
“Tick tock, tick tock,” the man sang in a high-pitched voice, swinging a gold pocket watch back and forth. He shoved it back inside his vest and a walking cane seemed to materialize in his other hand. My eyes couldn’t process what I was seeing, unable to determine if he’d moved too fast, I was unobservant, or if he was a magician. All three options were highly possible at this point.
“Samantha,” the man said, lifting his cane toward me. “You’re as fresh as a newborn baby.” I glanced at Ramone before returning my gaze to the person several feet in front of me.
“Father. What are you doing?” Ramone said. I could feel the fear and anger in his voice.
“This is interesting.” His father stepped closer to me and took a deep breath. I gasped when I felt an intrusion, as if something sharp had entered my head and heard Ramone hiss.
“You’re not very magical,” the man sneered. “Completely, utterly, devoid of any meaning or advantage. You should be ashamed of yourself.” He spit on my shoe. Not only was he disgusting, but he almost appeared younger than the man who’d called him “father” and I wasn’t certain what to think of the discrepancy.
“Julian...” Ramone warned, a calm coming over him as he slid a knife from his sleeve.
Watching the two men square off, I watched the orange fog slowly grow in the far corner of the room. It was interesting to me that my companion referred to his parent by their first name although seeing how Julian treated others, I understood. I’d never been called such names before—or spit on, for that matter. The wet glob sat on my shoe, immoveable, and there was nothing nearby with which to clean it.
Julian looked down his nose at me. “Perhaps birthing hips? But alas, you fail to possess the capability to birth demon seed, don’t you? Your breasts are, shall we say... lacking as well. C cup. Pathetic.”
Horrified, my mouth dropped open. “What? Ramone?” Was he really going to let this man speak to me this way? I pulled my arm away from Ramone as Julian started laughing, his amusement resounding maniacally through the room.
My boyfriend appeared almost as shocked as I felt, as if this was a new level of grotesque behavior from his father. “Do not speak to her this way. Do not speak to her at all,” he growled.
I spun on my heel, intent on leaving the room and getting away from Julian; Ramone could just find me later.
After only one step, I walked into an invisible wall. I shook Ramone’s hand from me and threw my hands up. I was faced with the same type of barrier I’d dealt with in my nightmares, a prison undetectable to the naked eye. Turning back around, I asked, “What are you doing?”
Julian snickered. “You’re a distraction. Am I repeating myself? No, I don’t think I am.” He clapped his hands together, a grin spreading across his face. Whoever this man really was, he had some serious issues.
Peering around the room, I hoped to see Ramone's friends somewhere, coming to our aid and was left disappointed. Of all the people he’d killed, it surprised me his supposed father remained alive. He didn’t seem to be the type he’d let suffer to live.
Ramone stalked toward the man, the air appearing to shimmer around him. “I expect you to apologize to her. Now.”
“Hee hee.” Julian giggled, making me cringe. “No apology forthcoming. However, you should apologize to me.”
He raised his knife. “For what?” He stopped directly in front of his father.
Julian smiled and bit his thumb, squeezing his eyes while bringing his shoulders up to his ears. “For giving you a great puzzle game which you failed. I would’ve been so proud of you, but you ruined everything. Consider yourself dethroned.” Julian raised a hand in the air dismissively and rolled his eyes.
“You gave me a game? What were the rules? You know no more sources of magic exist. You created a game with no viable pieces or choices for your own perverse pleasure.”
His father tapped a shoe on the ground as I felt something behind me. “You drank the wine, dumbass,” his father intoned, losing his chaotic manner of speaking.
A slimy feeling crawled up my spine as I watched the scene before me. My heart began thudding in my chest, and the urge to turn around weighed down on me as I felt something approaching.
“You cursed the wine? Why in the hell would you do that?” he boomed.
His outburst caused me to back up a step as I watched him attempt to stab his father in the neck. Horrified, I saw Ramone being lifted into the air without his father touching him and at the same time, something grabbed me.
When I twisted around, I was faced with the same beings I’d run into on the side of the road, only this time I had a better view. They were nearly translucent, their skin thin and papery with an odd sheen, their eyes nearly as yellow as their greasy strands of hair. Letting out a scream, I shrugged my shoulder, hoping to remove the oily-looking hand but it grabbed me. Boney fingers curled around my upper arm before another being glided across the floor and took my other arm in its cold grasp.
My ankle twisted when I resisted being tugged forward and the action dropped me to my knees. The creatures wouldn’t relent and began to drag me across the floor, my legs kicking as I tried to right myself. In no hurry, they casually pulled me along the cold marble floor, giving me a front row seat to the spectacle of Ramone fighting whatever hold his father had over him.