The Vengeance of the Vampire Bride (Vampire Bride #2)

The Vengeance of the Vampire Bride (Vampire Bride #2) Page 43

“Has the fortuneteller arrived?” Adem loomed over Sir Stephan, his dark eyes penetrating and cold.

“Yes, yes,” the sufficiently cowed man answered. “She arrived a short while ago. Maria is speaking with her in the parlor.” He hesitated before continuing, “I must say in my defense that I am only concerned.”

“Your concern is the work my husband has assigned you and nothing more. Let us not play games, Sir Stephan. We are not friends. You offer a service to my husband that can easily be assigned to another solicitor.” I let him feel the cold power of my wrath and he stepped away from me.

“Glynis! You’re here! Father said you would be visiting,” Laura called out. She hurried down the hall toward me, smiling with delight.

Turning my attention to her, I smiled an honestly happy smile and greeted her warmly. “I suppose it rather silly, but I suddenly wanted to have my fortune told.”

Laura giggled as she clutched my hands. “I have done it myself. It is all a bit mysterious, isn’t it? She’s blind, you see. She holds your hands and strokes them. It’s quite odd, but she did tell me many interesting predictions that I certainly hope will come true.”

“Oh, you must tell me what she said!” I forgot Sir Stephan and his disagreeable attitude as Laura hooked her arm about mine and we hurried down the hallway together.

“Well, she promised that I would find the life I am yearning for,” Laura said in hushed tones, her expression joyous.

“Oh, that is a lovely prediction!” I squeezed her arm and smiled at her affectionately.

Tonight she was clad in a pale peach concoction with tiny silk orange blossoms sewn about her collar and petticoats. Her dark hair was drawn back into a waterfall of tight curls and she wore a delicate gold necklace strung with pearls around her throat. The flush of her cheeks and the brightness of her eyes were a lovely testament to her happiness. Her mood was infectious and my fears dissipated as we neared the parlor.

“I am so very thrilled at the thought of being free of my parents constant nagging. I’m so tired of them pestering me constantly to settle on Dietrich. Father asked Percy quite directly if he was attempting to court me and Percy told him he was not. Father sent him away for wasting our time!” She bit her lip, fighting back the anger that would quash her good mood.

“It does not matter. You will see him when you visit me.” I kissed her cheek and she blushed prettily.

The door to the parlor opened and Maria stepped into the hallway. She looked more harried than usual, her dark hair not as neat as she normally kept it, and her dress slightly rumpled.

“Countess Dracula,” she exclaimed, her worried expression disappearing beneath the false veneer she so easily slipped over her features. Teeth flashing, eyes sparkling, she suddenly appeared to be the most radiant woman in Buda. “I am so honored that you called upon me to host this little night of mystery.”

“The fortuneteller is within the parlor I am told.” I tried not to sound miffed, but from Laura’s look of concern I realized I had failed.

“Yes, yes. The room is ready for a séance. We merely need to enter and begin.”

Sir Stephan advanced quietly into the conversation. “I do not feel comfortable with Laura being a part of this.”

“Father!”

“It is quite all right,” Maria began to protest.

“I am entering with Adem and no one else.” My voice cut through the raised voices around me and rendered them silent. “This is a personal matter.”

Laura pouted slightly, but her hand touched mine lightly. “I understand.”

“Of course, if that is what you desire,” Maria stammered, unsure of the situation. She lived in fear of me and Vlad, yet she was complicit in many of our dealings.

“Perhaps you should have summoned the fortuneteller to the palace,” Sir Stephan said, his tone dangerously defiant.

My glare silenced him.

Adem opened the parlor door and I left my hosts behind, slipping into the warm darkness within. The fortuneteller sat at a round table draped in black fabric with a single white candle flickering in the center. The woman before me was not what I had anticipated. I thought I would be facing a crone, but this woman was very young, perhaps a little older than I. Clad in traditional gypsy clothing and jewelry, she was an exotic creature with black hair and dusky skin. Her blind, white eyes were heavily lined with makeup and somehow they did not detract from her beauty. The room smelled of incense and herbs.

The door clicked closed behind me, and I stood in the gloom hoping with all my heart this mysterious woman could help me.

“I know what you are,” she said, speaking in a heavy accent. Holding up a hand decorated with many rings, she compelled me to stay where I stood.

A man emerged from the shadows to stand behind her. He was much older with more white hair than black and a thick mustache. Also dressed in traditional gypsy clothing, he rested one hand on her shoulder.

“I mean no harm,” I said in a tone I hoped sounded gentle and not too desperate.

Adem placed his hand on my shoulder, mirroring the gypsy man.

Her blind eyes stared in my direction, the sound of her deep breaths filling the room. The warm air felt abruptly heavier and more fragrant as she sat in total stillness. At last, she raised both hands, her fingers twisting into a strange salute.

“Sit down,” she said at last, lowering her arms.

The gypsy man took three steps back, but did not take his gaze from me.

With as much dignity as I could muster, I sat down and rested my hands upon my lap, my small purse tucked under my fingers. Adem remained behind me, ready to defend me at a second’s notice.

The fortuneteller lifted a heavy bag made of embroidered silk onto the table and rummaged through it. At last, she laid a black stone, pitch as night before her. Without a word, she returned the bag to the floor at her side. Extending her arms, she rested her hands upon the table, palms up.

“Give me your hands,” she ordered.

I obeyed. My white cold flesh looked strikingly pale against her dark warm skin. She did not flinch away from me, but stretched out her fingers beneath my hands. She did not say a word, did not blink, and did not speak for many minutes. Finally, she slid her hands around mine, raised my palms upwards, and rested her fingertips in the center of them.

“You are young, not old. You are powerful, but untamed. You are passionate, but not truly dangerous unless riled to anger. You are intelligent, but thoughtless. You are wise, yet foolish,” she said, the suddenness of her voice sluicing through the darkened room startling me. She enfolded my left hand in both of hers, kneading it like bread dough. Her own fingers were rough, but somehow soothing. “You are afraid of a dark creature of the night. One of your own kind. He haunts you and hunts you. Like a great bat against the moon, he watches you from afar.”

“I want protection from him,” I dared to whisper.

Pulling at my fingers lightly, she nodded. “The dragon. I see him now.” Her lips turned into a smile and the coins decorating her scarves tinkled as she bent toward my hands. “I see the thread between you. It’s red and black, full of fire and pain. It pulses with your blood and fear, feeding him.”

I did not understand her words, yet they felt true.

“Blood of his blood, power of his power, his flesh calls to you always because he made you.” The tip of one of her fingers slowly drew along my palm, as though tracing a line only her blind eyes could see. “Bound. You are bound.”

“Please, you must help me fight him. I wish to be free of him,” I said, my desperation weakening my tone.

Sitting in silence, the woman’s blind eyes appeared to stare into a world where she could witness the bond between me and Vlad and know my secrets.

“I cannot break the bond between you.” She withdrew her hands and took the ring from my finger as she did so. I was about to protest, when she held it up. “This I can curse. He gave it to you as a symbol of his dominion over you.”

“Yes, yes he did.”

“Why do you wear it still?”

“Because it has the power to help me live my own life as I see fit.” I had not realized that the ring could be anything more than a token, but now that it was gone from my finger, I understood my naiveté. I felt the absence of it keenly.

“I can curse it so that he cannot use it as a beacon to find you, or as gateway to your blood and power. The curse cannot break the bond, but it can hide you from him, do you understand?”

The dark red stone flickered in the candlelight. I nodded my head as I pondered how often Vlad had used the ring to find me and haunt me, sapping away tiny bits of my power and life.

Adem moved closer to the table, his hands resting on my shoulders. I took comfort in his touch and watched as the silk bag was drawn onto the table again. The gypsy woman drew out leather pouches, touching the raised symbols branded on to them. At last she selected three. Reaching into the bag, she pulled out a black bowl and a small jar filled with what appeared to be muddy water.

The gypsy man stepped forward to help her open the small bags and measure the herbs into the bowl. They spoke in their own language in soft voices. It appeared the older man was her father from the concerned looks he cast in my direction and the gentle way he guided her hands. The herbs and water were all mixed together in the bowl until it formed a watery paste. I flinched as she placed the ring into the murky mixture, pressing it down so it disappeared. Picking up the black stone, she held it in one hand, crossing it over the bowl as she chanted.